#i am just filled with giddy joy

[winter-kh-sideblog]

I have seen a hilarious large number of people claim that sokai is “rushed” and “made unnecessarily romance focused” and “thrown in our faces too much” while SIMULTANEOUSLY complaining that sokai never kisses or does anything explicitly romantic and is shoved to the side constantly and never gets development. And this is hilarious to me. Like. Guys come on. Pick a side. OR commit fully. Stop hating my ship inaccurately and Admit that it is pretty iconic and hilarious that they manage to be too obnoxiously romantic and unnecessarily plot relevant while also having a glaring lack of canon romance and no plot relevence. Like. I know i cant make people like my characters and my ships but can you at least start admitting how funny your complaints about them are. I love you kingdom hearts relationships you’re so everything all the time. <3

[chuluoyi]

𝐃𝐀𝐖𝐍'𝐒 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓 𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓

- zayne x reader

as dawn breaks, a new chapter begins. now husband and wife in the truest sense, both of you embark on the path of happiness together. yet, bittersweet loose ends remain still. will they eventually stay in the past for good, or cast a permanent shadow over your lives?

genre/warnings: 18+ suggestive content—minors do not interact!—fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, pregnancy & sex, mentions of complications related to pregnancy, brief description of childbirth (c-section), hunter!reader (not l&ds mc -> l&ds mc is zayne's late ex-girlfriend here)

note: part 2 to nocturne of twilight. my god, i honestly didn't expect it'd turn out into another 8k fic but here we go :')

Lately, Zayne has come to realize just how much joy you bring to home when you’re happy.

Your smile and giggles simply light up the place.

And moreover, you get happy at the simplest of things—head pats, his snowmen... Even when he responds with jabs just to get a rise out of you, there's always a part of his heart that softens.

Today began just like one of those joyful days. He dropped you off at the Hunter Association base before heading to the hospital, and later, he planned to pick you up and perhaps stop for macarons on the way home—

Or so he thought, until...

"Hello, Dr. Zayne! Sorry for startling you. Can you come to my office? Your wife just collapsed and she is brought here."

. . .

Zayne raced to Dr. Munson's office on the third floor, panic gradually overtook his every step. His mind whirled with all the possible reasons you might end up at—

Ob-gyn office. Wait, what?

The realization struck him just as he flung open the door to his colleague’s office.

"Ah, the man of the hour has arrived!" Dr. Munson greeted him with an ear-to-ear grin.

Zayne gave a quick nod but bypassed him to head straight to the bed where you were.

You looked pale and sluggish, your eyes squeezed shut. He immediately took your hand in his, interlacing your fingers, and you opened your eyes in surprise to see him there.

"Zayne..." you murmured, giving his hand a gentle squeeze and offering a faint smile.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, his voice filled with concern as he gently touched your cool cheek.

"A bit dizzy..."

Seeing you so meek made something inside him lurch. Just this morning, you had been full of life, pouting and playfully teasing him, and now you looked so exhausted.

"Well, maybe you already know this, Dr. Zayne, but still, congratulations!" Dr. Munson clapped his hands merrily. "Your wife is pregnant!"

Pregnant. Zayne stood frozen for a moment. In truth, while the very thought flitted in his mind from the moment he walked in, it didn't make it less surprising all the same. "I see..."

Then he turned to look at you, and to his surprise, you looked away, a shy smile played at your lips, as if you were trying to make yourself as small as possible.

A child. You were with child. His child.

"How far along?"

"Almost ten weeks, give or take. Well, aren't you the one who knows the most?"

"Is she alright? Anything I need to watch out for?"

"Ooh! How sweet!" Dr. Munson laughed crisply. "The cool-headed Dr. Zayne is worrying about his wife! The nurses are going to have a field day when they know this~"

Zayne shot him a look, but didn’t miss a beat as he retorted, "Of course I am."

You looked up at him silently, your heart fluttering at his earnest response. Zayne had always been resilient, but now he seemed more dashing than usual as he fired questions after questions at Dr. Munson about you and the baby.

Baby... both of you were going to become parents. It still felt surreal, but with Zayne’s warm grip on your hand, it began to feel real. You were almost giddy.

But then, it struck you— the baby was around ten weeks.

Then it meant the day of the conception was that night.

. . .

“Here, hold onto me.”

Zayne opened the door to his car and supported you as you carefully stepped out. You were still unsteady on your feet, so he returned you back home to rest rather than heading back to the Hunter Association’s base.

“Have you been feeling unwell these past few days?” he wrapped an arm around your shoulder as you made your way inside. “Usually, the symptoms have been noticeable for a while.”

“Hmmm,” you pursed your lips, feigning coyness. “I... don’t think so?”

Zayne quirked an eyebrow, sending you a withering stare as he realized your ruse. “So you have.”

“Hehe...” you flashed him a sheepish grin, causing him to shake his head in exasperation and pinch your cheek. “Ow!” you squeaked, quickly bringing your hand to your face.

Zayne stifled a smile, then gently guided you to the sofa. He crouched down in front of you, meeting your gaze as he took both of your hands in his.

"You need to tell me these things from now on, alright?" he said, and his steadfast gaze made butterflies flutter in your stomach.

"We..." you started, steeling yourself, "are going to have a baby," you gulped, feeling heat spreading to your cheeks.

He was unfazed. "Mm, we are."

You shifted uneasily, avoiding his gaze. "Are you... happy?"

Your voice wavered at the end, and your hand felt clammy. Suddenly, your stomach too twisted with nausea. Who would've thought that you would conceive a baby from a night that he called a mistake?

However, Zayne tilted his head, seemingly taken aback. "I am."

"Huh?"

"I am happy," he repeated, blinking back at you. "Are you?"

You gaped, caught off guard by his candid response—but then again, when had your husband ever been anything but straightforward?

"But you don’t seem happy!" you accused, pursing your lips. "You’ve been frowning the whole way home."

He shot you a flat look, his expression unchanged. "This is just my face."

You continued to pout, and Zayne sighed. His frown softened as he gently cupped your face, making you look up at him.

"You silly girl, what husband won't be thrilled when they hear that his wife is expecting?" he caressed your face, before poking it. "I'm just worried about you, you still look pale."

"You..." your eyes found his uneasily, at a loss of words. "But this baby is…" Your gaze dropped, anxiety swelling. "From… the night of—"

Your response stunned him, and you didn't dare to look him in the eye. It was still something that gnawed at you inside, because what if—

What if he thought this baby is a mistake?

In that moment, understanding dawned on him. His ashen eyes widened in surprise. You braced yourself for his reaction, but then—

His hand rested on your head, patting you gently. "You carrying our baby..." he faltered, gazed fixed on your averted eyes and then lips. His voice came almost in a whisper:

"This... is the best thing that has happened to me."

Thump! Your heart soared, warmth flooding through you in that very instant as you met his gaze. On the contrary, Zayne felt a crushing weight seeing the tears shining in your eyes. How deeply had he hurt you before that you’d doubt his feelings?

"I promised you that I’ll treasure you better," he said, pulling strands of your hair behind your ears. "This time, let me prove it to you."

Somehow you felt like crying at the sheer sincerity in his words. "You... like the baby?"

A gentle smile touched his lips as he took your hand and pressed a kiss to it. "I do. Truly."

"I... am so happy too," you finally choked up, the first tear slipping down your cheek. You quickly brushed it away, feeling a bit silly for tearing up. "I... have always wanted us to be a family..."

Zayne pulled you into his arms, letting out an exasperated but fond sigh. "A certain someone really does like to cry... And now with a baby on the way, am I going to lose my mind worrying about both of you?"

"Hmph," you wrinkled your nose. "A certain dad-to-be better work on his skills to express himself better, then."

"I'm going to focus my energy on more important things, such as thinking of all ways I should do to keep you from getting into trouble."

"...? I don't get into trouble!"

"You stumble even on empty air, I've seen it myself."

Two years ago, you had envisioned your happily ever after with him, and then you weren't sure if you would get it at all. And now, as you walked towards a new beginning together, you were wholly certain.

At least, that was what you thought.

The days following the reveal of your pregnancy were filled with bliss.

Only that, sometimes... you ask for tall order—

"Zayne... I want that plushie..."

"We have tried it three times already. That machine is rigged."

"B-but! Look, that couple won some!"

Some weeks later, the two of you were at an arcade, and your eyes were literally shining as soon as you saw the Happy Snowman plushie in the claw machine.

And ever since, you had been tugging at his sleeve and dragging him to catch it for you... only to no avail so far.

Zayne pinched the bridge of his nose. "With the way you’re acting, no one would believe you’re about to become a mom."

"Isn't that the whole point?" you fired back, puckering your lips, before mustering your best puppy eyes and bringing your hands together. "Please? Baby wants it so much."

He knew you were using the baby card just to get your way, but you looked so adorable doing it that it often worked—evident from how he lined up once more for the long queue at the claw machine.

"This is the last time," he decided, giving you a flat stare when you two reached your turn. "If we lose, we're buying the one in the souvenir shop."

"Teehee~" you giggled in delight. You'd get your plushie either way. Zayne was always listening to you even with his grumbles, and it made you inwardly kick your feet in joy.

Despite being cross, Zayne was better at this than you. He almost snagged some plushies several times, and this time, he skillfully maneuvered the claw, pressing the button with precision—

“Oh!” Your eyes sparkled as the claw secured your prized Happy Snowman. “Zayne! Just a little more!”

"Yeah, yeah..."

Just like that, the claw released the snowman into the hole. As soon Zayne handed it to you, you practically squealed. "Ahh! Finally I got you!"

You were so full of childlike excitement, even though you were just months away from bringing a child into the world yourself. Zayne watched you silently, and despite himself, a soft smile tugged at his lips.

"Do you want more?" he asked. "We still have three chances left."

"Yes!" You beamed at him. "I want the penguin and crow!"

Apparently, he was weak to your wishes. He then took the machine again, and maybe luck blessed him this time because soon enough, he got you two of them right after the chances ran out.

“Hehe! We’re bringing them home!” You patted each plushie with delight, your giggles drawing the attention of nearby kids.

"Mom, look! That uncle gets many plushies!"

Zayne felt his eyes twitch. Uncle...?

You tried and utterly failed to hold back your laugh.

And you heard another couple bickering nearby as they threw glances at you and your husband—

"I want that crow plushie..." the woman lamented, despondently eyeing the claw machine and the three plushies Zayne had managed to win for you.

Her boyfriend, a scary-looking tall man with red eyes and rider garbs, turned to her with a snort. "Why would you even need that ugly crow for? We have crow at home."

"...Mephisto doesn't count! You're just saying that because your luck and skill are trash!"

"Tch. I can open a whole arcade just so you can tear those plushies into shreds, sweetie... just so you know, there’s a price when dealing with a devil, hmm?"

Opening an arcade only to satisfy his girlfriend's wants? You thought in a passing. Crazy.

. . .

And then your emotions are practically a whirlwind of roller coaster...

“You’re mean!” you sniffled, pointing a righteous finger at your husband and the kitty cards on the table. “You always reduce my kitties whenever you get the chance!”

Zayne exhaled, trying to explain himself. “I just make do with the cards I’m dealt with.”

“But you’re trying to take out my cats all the time!”

“That’s the gameplay. If I let you win, you’d say I’m underestimating you.”

“So, are you saying I’m bad at this?” You looked at the cards with heartbreak etched on your face, your lips quivering. ��Am I?”

Uh-oh, he knew what it was. You were a stone throw away from bursting into tears and one wrong word could set you off altogether.

“No, you’re not bad...” he began, carefully choosing his words. “The kitties... they’re just not cooperating with you, that’s all.”

“So, they’re cooperating with you,” you pouted, cross. “Is that what you’re trying to say?!”

Sigh... this is going to take a while...

But ultimately... you’re also incredibly precious.

“I’m going to make an amigurumi for our baby,” you announced, smiling brightly as you settled between his legs with a crochet kit and a snowman pattern in hand. “I just know they’ll like it.”

“You know how to crochet?” Zayne asked, resting his chin on your shoulder and slipping an arm around your waist, gently touching your growing bump.

“Hmph!” You tilted your chin up with a smirk, turning to face him. “Of course, I can!”

“Oh…?”

“It’s a little side hobby,” you explained with a giggle. “I can’t resist having and making cute things~”

Zayne thought he’d laugh, but instead, it was a wave of bittersweetness that washed over him. Because apparently, even after being married to you for two years, there were some things about you he didn’t know.

He was fond of you. He knew you liked a fair amount of sweets, what your favorite food and color were, and that you couldn't sleep without turning off the lights. But then he realized...

"Does it have to be a snowman?" he asked, his eyes fixed on how skillfully you handled the hooks.

"Mm-hmm! It does."

"Why do you like it so much anyway?"

"Ah..." Your movements paused slightly, and you suddenly looked down, a hint of sheepishness in your expression. "Well..."

This way, you looked adorable somehow. Zayne squeezed you gently. "Hmm?"

"You might not remember it... but the first time we met..." you felt heat creeping up to your face but pressed on nonetheless. "I asked you to demonstrate your Evol and you showed me by creating a snowman out of thin air."

Right at that moment, Zayne could've sworn that his heart skipped a beat. That meeting... how many years ago was it? Five? Six?

He could barely remember it until you mentioned it, and yet you held that memory dear.

"Maybe it sounds stupid to you," you puffed out your cheeks. "But I think you’re similar to a snowman. You look cold on the outside, but you bring happiness to so many people. You save lives…"

The way you described him so highly made him flutter inside. Suddenly he felt soft. Soft for you. You were utterly precious, genuine and all this time, he hadn't even truly realized it.

"And to me, you..." you gulped, suddenly self-conscious. "You are... warm, just like the sun..."

The sincerity in your words touched him so deeply that it left him speechless. You had loved him and it was evident in all your actions.

Now the question is, has he done the same for you?

You brightened his life just by being yourself. Most of the time cheery, sometimes snarky, and often times decidedly spoiled... all those sides of you—

He adores them all. And he knows he'll treasure you until the end of time. And now, he's going to show you that.

Before he realized it, he had planted a kiss on the nape of your neck, and you sucked in a breath as you dropped the crochet hooks. "Zayne...?"

And then his lips pressed harder, trailing kisses along your neck, while his hands slipped inside your pajama top, caressing your skin ever so gently. The unexpected touch made you unwittingly moan.

"Can you... finish crocheting another day?" he breathed in your ear, cupping your breasts tenderly, and you almost jolted. "I'll be gentle, I promise."

It felt as if your face had caught fire, your whole body flushing with sudden excitement. Your heart raced wildly at his husky voice, and the very thought that your husband desired you was deeply thrilling.

"But you..." your voice hitched, trying not focus on his fingers. "...are never gentle."

Zayne blinked at you in surprise. "Am... I? That's not true."

"Should I jog your memory?" You pursed your lips. "One time, you threw me on the bed—"

"Well—"

"And that time you had me on all fours—"

"That's—"

"And the night we conceived this baby too—"

"Right. Alright." Zayne’s cheeks flushed with warmth as he released his grip on your mounds. "You might have a point, but this time, I assure you…"

He turned you to face him, and before you could even react, he leaned in close, his breath tickling your collarbone as he whispered:

"I will take good care of you tonight."

He made good on his promise.

This time, his hands moved with a gentleness that took your breath away. Zayne started with peppering your skin in soft, lingering kisses—starting at your jaw, then trailing down your neck, collarbone, and chest.

And when his lips finally reached the slightly visible but firm swell of your belly, he paused, pressing a kiss there that seemed to hold all the love he had for your baby.

The sight pulled at your heartstrings. The very fact that Zayne cherished this little life growing inside you filled you with a happiness so profound, it nearly overwhelmed you.

And soon...

"Ahh... aah!" you writhed, arching your back, your lower body laid bare as his tongue lapped eagerly at your folds. It was, by far, the most erotic thing your husband had done to you— he usually didn’t spend this much time for your pleasure.

But as always, he was not much of a talker during sex. Only dangerous gleam in his eyes as he glanced up from between your trembling thighs that let you know he had no plans of stopping anytime soon.

"Ngh!" You gasped when the tight ball of nerves inside you finally burst, mewling helplessly as you yanked on his hair, and he ate you out even more greedily in response. You had always known it, but moments like this made it undeniable—

Zayne turns completely into a different man while bedding you. Who would have guessed that the stoic, straight-laced head of cardiac surgery could be reduced to a man consumed by lust at the sight of his wife's body?

. . .

He had always liked having you on top. This time, Zayne made sure to prepare you exceptionally well before easing himself inside you, yet, just like every other time, you still felt impossibly tight around him.

“Ah, ah... I-I’m—!” you whimpered tearfully, your walls clenching around his girth, face overtaken by sheer pleasure. “’s full...”

It didn't take him long to bust, really. With a beautiful wife sitting on top of him, eliciting sounds like that... how could he resist?

But maybe he pushed you too hard. Lust won against all his senses as he relentlessly slammed his hips against yours, and he distinctly felt the moment you stifled a scream and came hard around him.

"Are you... alright?" Zayne asked in a groan as he reached his orgasm, his release flooding inside your womb in a rush as you clung into him tightly, shuddering and spasming.

You nodded and collapsed against him, savoring the feeling of how filled up you were. In return, he cradled you close as he slowly pulled out of you. "I-I... am..."

You curled into him, and he pressed a tender kiss on your head. In that moment, you truly felt that there were only two of you in this vast world.

Gently, he lifted you—one arm supporting your legs, the other around your back—and carried you to the bathroom to clean you up.

. . .

“Drink.” Zayne held the cool glass of water to your lips, and you obediently took a sip, your gaze lingering on the gap in his bathrobe where his chest peeked out.

He was so, so considerate. He carefully handled you as he washed your body and wrapped you in the bathrobe earlier, soothing you each time you let out a whine.

It was the most comforting aftercare you had experienced. After making sure you weren’t parched, he tucked you under the comforters, joining you soon after and pulling you close.

“Are you comfortable now?” he asked quietly, straightening your hair.

“Mm-hmm.” You snuggled closer with a smile, tracing a finger along his chest.

Somehow the way he cared for you now made you remember how your relationship was back then. He didn’t dote on you this much, he was good to you but you knew deep in your hearts that he wasn’t really there. But now…

He is yours. In every sense.

“You’re tickling me,” Zayne tutted gruffly, catching your hand and pressing it to his chest.

“So? What will you do?” you teased with a playful grin. “Will you eat me up again?”

“…” His narrowed eyes made you giggle, and you pressed yourself even closer, relishing the afterglow.

You had promised yourself not to bring it up again, but feeling vulnerable in this moment, you couldn’t help but whisper:

“You… have changed,” you muttered under your breath. “Thank you… for thinking of me.”

You couldn’t see his expression, but his arms tightened around you suddenly. Warmth spread through you, feeling as though he were shielding you from the world itself.

Weeks passed by, and soon enough, you reached the middle of your second trimester.

“We’re going to find out the gender today!” you excitedly noted in the passenger’s seat. Zayne glanced at you with a smile, silently looking forward to it too.

He was relieved that your first trimester had passed smoothly, with only a few bouts of sickness. Now, before he knew it, you were already halfway through the journey.

“If it’s a girl, I hope she won’t be a troublemaker like her mom,” he slyly retorted.

You shot him a glare. “And if it’s a boy, I’ll make sure he doesn’t spend all his time studying and turn into a robot like you.”

The journey to fatherhood still didn’t feel entirely real to him with your chirpy self, but as your belly swelled and rounded with each passing week, he began to realize that the day was quickly approaching.

It made him feel warm, and he wished he could show it to you better just how much happiness you brought to him now.

You rummaged through your bag and exclaimed, "Oh, I forgot the appointment card!"

Zayne sighed, turning the steering wheel with a small shake of his head. "See? The little mom can be so scatterbrained at times."

You slouched in your seat, crestfallen. "Sorry..."

"It’s alright," he gave your hand a gentle squeeze as he noticed your expression drop. "I’ll get it. Where did you leave it?"

"In the first drawer of my vanity desk, I think…"

After arriving back at home, Zayne headed straight to your shared bedroom and searched through your drawers. The first drawer only had your perfumes, so he moved on to the second drawer, which apparently only had more makeup supplies.

And so, he pulled the third drawer, and there were a stack of envelopes there. Curious, he pulled one out, thinking it was the card he was looking for—

—but then, suddenly, he was in a state of shock. Never would have he expected to find what he had on his hand then.

For a moment, everything around him seemed to blur, his entire world reduced to those three stark words on the page. His mind struggled to process what he was seeing, a heavy weight settling in his stomach as the realization hit him.

Petition of Divorce — and your signature... was there.

Something seemed a bit off about Zayne, you noticed later that day.

You were really looking forward to finding out the baby's gender, and you thought he was too. He stood by your side all the while, holding your hand as the ultrasound probe pressed against your skin and you waited with bated breath for Dr. Munson to announce—

“Well, it’s a girl!” he declared with a wide grin. “Whoa, Dr. Zayne is going to be a girl dad, huh?”

“Oh my…” Your eyes sparkled with joy at the news. You were fine with either, but you knew Zayne had secretly been hoping for a girl, and you turned to him with pure elation. However...

“That’s… good.” His response was brief, and although he was smiling, something felt off. You had been observing him for too long not to notice—you knew when your husband was distracted.

What is he thinking? Despite yourself, you began to worry.

“Zayne?” you asked later, holding his arm as you both exited Dr. Munson’s office. “Are you thinking about work?”

He turned to you almost immediately. “No.”

“Then why are you frowning?” you asked innocently, trying to lighten the mood by touching his face. He swiftly caught your hand.

“This is a public place,” he said in a strained voice, causing you to stiffen at his tone. “I’ll take you home first.”

Something was not right. Now you were convinced and it started to bother you.

“Actually… I need to go to the Hunter Association's base first to finish my deskwork,” you said.

His brows furrowed even deeper. “Can’t you just submit your leave?”

“Ah... I’m on half-day leave today. I need to wrap up as much as I can before I go on maternity leave later.”

“Next time,” he snapped, his gray eyes locked on you, “Whenever you have appointments, take a full-day leave. You’re in no condition to be working, especially as you get further along.”

"Zayne, are you... upset with me?" you fired the question then, because it seemed like he really did, and suddenly you felt a bit sick at the very thought.

He was certainly not expecting you to ask that, and for a moment, Zayne froze, before he exhaled and his frown softened a bit.

“…no,” he finally said, his tone gentler. “I just don’t want you to push yourself too hard.”

But ever since that day, you knew something had happened to him that he suddenly he became a little distant towards you.

. . .

Zayne hadn’t meant to snap at you. If anything, knowing you were carrying a baby girl filled him with unbridled happiness.

But still, there was still a part of him that wanted to demand answers from you—that part of him that was deeply hurt by what he discovered.

In hindsight, maybe he shouldn’t take it too hard. No matter how much he reflected on it, he knew he hadn’t been the husband you deserved. He knew his faults and understood how much he had hurt you. From the very beginning, you deserved someone who would see only you and no one else—and he hadn't been that person before.

Even with that understanding, he was left with an unresolved hollowness. You had doubted him enough that you were ready to file for a divorce once. It didn't mean that the same thing wouldn't happen in the future.

Does he have it in him to make you happy? He had promised you he would. While he wasn't the most affectionate, he tried his best, and he intended to keep trying.

But now, after learning this, he found that not only you, but even he too was able to doubt himself.

"Zayne...?"

You peeked your head inside his study one night, several weeks later, a hand resting on your bump. You really didn't want to bother him when he just arrived, but you figured you had to tell him.

For the past week, you’d been throwing up, and it didn’t feel right. He had been at a symposium in another city since the start of the week, and you tried to wait it out. But today, you almost blacked out, and now you were genuinely afraid.

"Y/N?" he turned to you just as he laid his briefcase and the moment he saw you, he frowned at how pale you looked.

Zayne immediately stalked towards you and pulled you closer, feeling your neck to check your body temperature. His eyes widened in realization. "You have a fever."

"I-I... feel lightheaded today," you sputtered, clutching his arm. "And... I’ve been vomiting too..."

"I'll get you checked in at Akso," he decided, grabbing the car keys and led you out of the room by the shoulder. "Why didn't you tell me in your calls?"

Very lame excuse, but you tried to defend yourself nonetheless. "It wasn't this severe before—"

"You should have told me." His response was curt, but his fury was evident. You almost shrank at his tone, but Zayne didn't reprimand you further as he helped you into the passenger seat.

The drive was tense and uncomfortable, making you feel even worse. The silence only amplified your anxiety, and it didn't help that you had noticed how distant he was lately.

"I'm sorry—" you blurted but then suddenly, you sucked in a breath, wincing and fisting your dress when you felt the start of a cramp just below your ribs. "Ahh..."

Zayne’s panic surged at your pained gasp. He gripped your hand reassuringly, all trace of anger vanishing instantly. "We’ll arrive soon. I promise you’ll be alright."

At that moment, despite all fears you had—for your baby, of his sudden shift of behavior—you held back your sob and squeezed his hand in return.

. . .

You would be staying at the hospital until all the test results came in.

Zayne sat on the chair beside you, gaze fixed on you as you lay connected to an IV drip in the private room. Though he tried to mask it, he was still shaken. He knew better than anyone that fever and cramps at more than 20 weeks often signaled something was wrong with either the mother or the baby.

The thought of ailments beyond his control affecting either of you made his chest tighten. He loosened his tie and let out a sigh, trying to ease the constriction. "How do you feel now?"

You looked at him, managing a smile as you replied, "I’m fine now."

Seeing you bedridden like this was something he hadn’t realized he dreaded until that moment, and yet, there you were, smiling. You... smiled.

He couldn’t understand why the sight he usually adored suddenly stirred this swirling anger in him.

Your answer seemed to hit a nerve in him as his expression darkened, and anxiety struck you again, twisting something in your gut. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you before..."

His lack of response only deepened your unease. "Before today, I didn’t feel faint at all, so I think it’s just something I ate."

He still didn't deign you with any answer. Zayne’s apparent disregard for your words frustrated you, bringing you close to tears. "Say something..." you urged, feeling the tears burn behind your eyes. "I know you're upset, but now I'm scared too."

You really wanted him to comfort you. You knew the Zayne from several weeks ago would do just that, but now you had a feeling that the man before you now wasn't that same man any longer.

"We’ll see when the results are ready," he said then, facing you with a stoic, matter-of-fact tone, as if he were delivering a diagnosis to a patient rather than speaking to his wife. "Don’t fret too much. Have some rest."

Is that... all he has to say to you? A part of your heart withered at his detached response, the tears frozen in your eyes. What happened to him?

You were about to confront him for an answer when his phone suddenly vibrated in his pocket. He pulled it out and answered.

"Hello? Yes, it's Zayne. Who is this?" he questioned flatly, eyes narrowed into a dissatisfied frown, before suddenly his expression lit up with understanding when the person on the other line introduced themselves.

You could hear the faint sound of a man's voice from his phone. And when Zayne addressed him, a sudden chill spread throughout your body.

"Caleb? It's... been a while."

You felt cold. Caleb. You never really knew him but you had certainly seen him. Once at a funeral, and once at your wedding. He too is Zayne's childhood friend, and more than that, he is the brother of—

Why? Why did all emotional suffering you had to go through, somehow or another, always come down to a dead woman who was once your husband's lover?

When he ended this call, you didn't even pretend to be considerate anymore. "What does he want from you?"

Zayne looked taken aback by your sudden hostility but answered calmly, "He’s in Linkon now and asked if we could meet."

"Must you really see him?"

"What are you getting at?"

"I don’t like it," you spat, venom clear in your voice, turning to him. "I don’t like it at all when you have to be involved with people related to her!"

Finally, you said it. You had never made it clear before, but this time, you felt like you were entitled enough to. You were having his daughter, and if he was still entangled in an illusion of his past girlfriend with you, then—

Zayne responded to your outburst with a suppressed sigh, visibly keeping his frustration in check. "He is an old friend, Y/N. You're too emotional right now that you jump into conclusions and stress yourself out."

He was right, your emotions were spiraling, but right now you were too heartbroken to care for it.

"Do you know what I fear the most?" you asked, tears shining in your eyes. At last, you voiced the dark, unspoken curse that had haunted you since the very beginning of it all:

"I’m afraid that one day, you’ll wake up and realize that either me or our baby is a mistake."

Zayne barely got any rest that night.

In the end, faced with your tears, he didn't respond because he didn't want to prolong the argument. More strain for you could put both you and the baby at risk.

Later, he told himself. No matter how much he berated himself for not noticing the signs of your illness sooner, or wanted show you that you and his unborn child meant everything to him now— later. He wouldn't risk you, and it would be better if you talk later with cooler heads.

Little did he know, that "later" would never come.

Numerous missed phone calls from the nurses station after he stepped out of the operating room sealed your fate. And when Greyson burst into his office, out of breath and panic-stricken, it was like being doused in scalding water.

"Dr. Zayne! Miss Y/N! Sh-she has just been rushed to ER for severe bleeding!"

Just like that, his world crashed and shattered beyond return.

. . .

"Dr. Zayne, I'm not sure how I should break this news to you... As a medical professional, you already know how serious this condition is..."

Everything was his greatest nightmare realized. Dr. Munson’s diagnosis struck him with a searing force, paralyzing him on the spot.

"Your wife has preeclampsia."

The nurses said you had been screaming and bleeding heavily. He too had seen it himself—the blood splattered across the pristine floor when he arrived, just moments after you were rushed to the emergency room—and the sight made a chill run through his spine in horror.

"She just experienced a partial placental abruption because of it. This causes bleeding in the mother, and also increases the risk of premature labor."

Dr. Munson’s explanation was crystal clear, yet it sent Zayne into a daze. It felt as if his chest had been ripped open, leaving him hollow as he stared numbly at your figure, peacefully asleep after the emergency treatment you had been put through.

Zayne clasped your hand in his, feeling the invincible knife lodged in his heart twist painfully.

You aren't supposed to be this cold. He gently griped your hand, his face contorted with agony. How terrified must you have been? How much did it hurt? Despite trying to push the memories away, seeing you like this brought back the nightmare from three years ago.

Only that this time, it was you. And not just you, but his unborn child as well. Both of you... there was a chance that both of you wouldn't survive.

The sheer thought made him stagger, because no, if it was the devil’s way to punish him, then it was beyond cruel. He had failed you once already, and he knew what happiness was by being with you, and to lose all of that in one blow—

"Zayne! Can you make me one more snowman?" you pleaded, your eyes sparkling as you pointed to the little gap between snowmen already perched on the window. "Just one more! It’ll make the line perfect!"

"I’m afraid that one day, you’ll wake up and realize that either me or our baby is a mistake."

It was so, so painful. His chest constricted at the contrasting memories and it took everything he had not to give in to his spiraling fears.

With everything I have, I love you. None of it mattered anymore. The divorce papers, whether he could make you happy— what was important was that It was unthinkable to lose you now. He would trade his life if it meant sparing you, because the pain of losing you would destroy him.

You had always loved that little thing he made on a whim. He opened your palm and shaped the ice through his manipulation, placing the palm-sized snowman in your grasp, hoping it would protect you throughout the night.

You remembered the excruciating pain, the primal dread of losing your baby, and the horrifying sight of crimson streaming endlessly between your legs, also how you screamed for anyone for help.

When you regained consciousness, the scent of fresh linen and alcohol was the first thing that greeted you. Dawn had already arrived, but the sky outside remained dark.

Your right palm felt cold, and that’s when you realized you were holding something. At the same time, you noticed the weight in your other hand—

Zayne. Your husband slept on the edge of your bed in such an uncomfortable position while holding your hand, his brows taut into a frown, only with a coat to cover himself.

He is here. You quietly watched him, and despite everything, you realized once again how much you loved him—even more that he was here for you.

Snowman… you stared at the little toy in your other hand, and overwhelming warmth washed over you at the thought of him creating it for you just before he slept.

The baby… what did you go through? Is she fine? You really couldn’t shake the feeling that something grave had happened to you.

You had to know. You pulled your left hand out of his grasp and caressed his face. He has to shave soon, you noted, feeling the stubble that had started to grow there. Still, you couldn't help but marvel at how handsome he was.

Your gentle touch soon caused his eyes to flutter open, and Zayne jerked awake, instinctively catching your hand. "You're awake..." he rasped, his voice rough with exhaustion.

He looked at you as if he was in disbelief, and immediately rose and squeezed your hand. You looked up to him, feebly asking, "What... happened to me?"

His face fell right that moment but you pressed on, "Tell me. I have to know..."

Zayne's reluctance was obvious, but the plea in your voice made him waver. Finally, he sighed and sat down on the edge of your bed.

"The test results have come back," he began, his voice adopting the clinical tone you recognized from when he spoke to his patients. "Your blood pressure is abnormally high, and there was protein found in your urine sample... These are signs of a condition called preeclampsia."

Shock marred your features in that moment, because you had heard what it was and what it meant for your baby.

"The only cure for preeclampsia is delivery. And at the same time the placenta has detached from the wall of your womb. This way, our baby—"

You had watched Zayne deliver devastating diagnoses to his patients before, and he was always steadfast. But this time, even his voice wavered.

His gray eyes seemed to glisten under the light as they held your gaze. "She's being deprived of oxygen and nutrients because the placenta can no longer supply them. You may also experience heavier bleeding, more cramps, and fetal distress. The best course of action now is to deliver the baby as soon as possible."

It felt like receiving death sentence. No matter how you looked at it, the conclusion was the same. "B-but..." you stammered, your whole body trembling, shaken by the enormity of it all. "S-she's just... barely twenty-six weeks..."

The way devastation bled in your voice pierced him. Without a word, Zayne pulled you into his arms, letting out a long, drawn-out breath as he held you close.

"I'm here," he assured, trying to console you. "You don't have to be scared. We'll monitor you closely until it's possible for you to give birth to the baby in around thirty weeks. I'll make sure of that."

The first of your sobs began. "...i-is it me?" you clutched at his coat mournfully. "Did I… p-put the baby into distress somehow— that it causes the placenta to fall away?"

"No," he firmly shushed you. "It's a condition that can flare up anytime. Don't blame yourself for it."

Still, how could you not? More than yourself, you feared for your unborn child. You sobbed harder, and Zayne held you even as his coat had started to dampen from your tears.

Your predicament broke his heart too, but at the same time, he found the perfect moment to finally show you the entirety of his heart.

"You told me you were afraid I'd come to see both of you as a mistake," he murmured, gently running his hand through your hair in an attempt to soothe you. "But how can our daughter be a mistake when—" his voice caught, choking on the words, "—when I've loved her so much already?"

The strain in his voice made you look up, and you were taken aback by the intensity of his gray eyes that bored into you.

“Both of you... are so precious to me.” Zayne locked his eyes with yours, sincerely meaning everything he said as he cradled the side of your face. “The thought that anything might happen to either of you... is unbearable.”

He pressed his forehead against yours, his voice hoarse, “What if… you continue to bleed and it leads to seizures? What if— you and the baby won’t make it? These are so unbearable for me.”

His words went straight into you, and for a moment, your tears receded as they sank in.

"I can’t give you my past." His voice tinged with melancholy, the expression on his face was torn. "But I promise you, at least in this lifetime..."

He gazed at you with the unwavering look you had fallen in love with, the same gaze you once admired from afar, long ago.

And then, his next declaration took your breath away and made your heart soar like never before. A wave of love surged within you, almost overwhelming you—

"Right this moment and my future—it's for you. For both of you, always."

From that moment on, you knew you would trust him completely. From that moment on, you finally let go of your doubts, knowing that you had nothing to fear with him by your side.

Zayne was by your side whenever he was able to.

You were on bedrest at the hospital ever since, but he always stayed the night here to accompany you, barely going back to home for a change of clothes.

"You’re really making a snowman..." he remarked, observing your fingers and the crochet hooks he’d brought from home so you could keep yourself entertained. "I think you need to add a bit more fluff there..."

Your face brightened with a grin as you cut the yarn. "Don’t worry, I’ll make it extra round."

The weeks in the hospital dragged on, but they also gave you more time to work on your amigurumi. When you finished putting the final touches on it, you proudly presented it to Zayne—the snowman with a blue shawl and black hat, two little round eyes, and a beaming line of smile. "Ta-da! Look, it’s even cuter than the ones you made!"

A happy you was always the sight he loved to see above all. "Yeah..."

"Do you think she'll love it?" you suddenly asked, poking the snowman doll you just made, feeling warm at the thought that your cherished baby will soon play with it too.

You looked so endearing that Zayne felt an overwhelming urge to pull you closer. “She will,” he chuckled, giving you a reassuring pat on the head. “Didn’t you say before she will?”

And soon, you reached the thirtieth-week mark. The time had come to finally deliver your baby.

. . .

"I can't feel anything..." Your voice came out as a soft whine while you lay on the operating table, your lower body numb and obscured by the surgical curtain shielding you from view.

Zayne, standing beside you in a mask and headcap, grasped your hand, his fingers intertwined with yours. "If you could feel it, you’d be screaming."

The C-section was the only way to ensure both you and your daughter would survive. It felt surreal to know they were basically cutting you open, yet you were unable to feel anything.

"Will... she come out healthy?" you asked your husband hesitantly, worried about your soon-to-be born baby. "I'm worried..."

Zayne glanced at you and gave your hand a light squeeze. "Don’t worry too much. You should be more concerned about yourself. Think of all the food you want to have when you get home, and I’ll get it for you."

You shot him a glare. "You make me sound like a foodie."

"You are a foodie."

Despite the ongoing surgery, Zayne’s lighthearted jabs were his way of easing your anxiety. Even though they irked you, you appreciated his attempts to lift your spirits.

And soon—

You heard a feeble cry, though quickly drowned out by the cheers of the surgical team beyond the curtain. You gasped and turned to Zayne, who was fixated on the tiny baby in Dr. Munson's hands.

He didn't even blink. It was almost as if he was spellbound by the sight. Nothing mattered because his daughter was here. Really here.

"Zayne…" your voice then broke the spell. He turned to you, who weakly smiled at him with tears in your eyes.

For the first time in your life, you saw tears of happiness glistening in his eyes as he stared at you— the woman who had just given him a daughter to love and dote on.

He immediately leaned in to press a kiss on your forehead. Your heart felt so full, even though he wasn’t able to fully express it in words. In that moment, you could feel his profound love for you and the new life you would embark on together.

"She is so small..."

You pressed yourself as close as you could to the see-through glass of the neonatal unit, straining to get a glimpse of your baby daughter. Though you weren't well enough to walk three days after the surgery, you insisted on Zayne wheeling you over in a wheelchair just so you could have a peek.

"She’ll grow big soon," Zayne said, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder when he noticed your sadness. "She’ll stay there for a few more weeks, and then we can bring her home."

However, your expression twisted into a worried frown as you watched the gentle rise and fall of your baby’s tiny chest inside the incubator. Even when he had reassured you that it was by all means just an unfortunate condition, you couldn't help feeling that it was your fault somehow that she ended up there.

She had his tufts of black hair, but you weren’t able to get close enough to remember her face clearly. The fact that you hadn’t held her in your arms yet made your heart ache.

"Mommy is sorry that she can't carry you to full-term..." you croaked out, lips wobbling, a hand tracing the glass separating you from your new baby, and Zayne inhaled sharply at the sight.

It hadn’t been easy, but you had made it through. Both of you had. And to him, that was more than enough. So, you needed to hear it too.

He crouched down in front of you, catching your attention instantly. You tilted your head as his hands rested gently on your shoulders.

“Thank you for delivering our daughter safely,” he said with the softest of smiles, ever so genuine just as you were in all times of the two of you together.

Your eyes widened a bit at his sudden gratitude, and when he took both of your hands together in his, gazed at you with such earnestness in his clear ash-grey eyes, and traced his thumbs over your knuckles, your heart skipped a beat.

“And most of all, thank you... for being safe too.”

Those words brought immense warmth to you, and the prettiest of smile lit up your face then at the way he looked at you as if you were his most prized treasure. Just like that, once again, he cast all your fears and doubts aside.

And deep down, you knew that with him by your side, everything was going to be alright.

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[anoddrock]

Reminder: romantic love is not inherently greater than platonic love.

I always see it phrased the other way around, saying platonic love isn’t less valuable. That irks me a bit.

Believe me, both are amazing. But I Definitely feel platonic love more strongly than romantic love. If the romantic love isn’t an addon to preexisting platonic love, then personally I just don’t get it.

Because I am deeply in love with some of my friends. I forget it sometimes, and then I hang out with them and it’s just. Joy. Giddy. I’m me again. But it’s truly platonic! It’s not ‘Just Platonic’ - that’s undermining!! I legitimately feel this love to my core! It’s in my heart and soul and bones! But it just…isn’t romantic. To me, it’s much bigger, because romance is bonus content, not a standalone.

Romance fills out spaces that you didn’t know were there. It’s like having dessert. It’s connecting dots you might not have otherwise connected, but that aren’t essential to the story. It’s deciding to paint your nails this week instead of just trimming them.

I want to spend my life with the people I love, but romantic attraction isn’t its own book in my library of feelings. Romantic attraction is taking a well-worn copy of one of your favorite books, and filling it with annotations and sticky notes, double underlines and exclamation points. But the book itself isn’t romantic attraction, it’s the friendship that you have, familiar and well worn and deeply, deeply loved.

I couldn’t annotate a book I didn’t have. But I have a vast library around me full of books, and maybe I’ve tried annotating one or two, but as of right now, there’s only one book that’s felt right to have properly annotated.

But even if I’ve only annotated this one book, that doesn’t mean I’ll stop reading the others. No, I couldn’t ever stop reading. Sometimes there are new books that I end up not keeping, but there will always be a shelf of books that I could reread endlessly. The fact that I don’t annotate them doesn’t mean I don’t love them, and that they haven’t impacted me to my core. It just means I didn’t annotate them.

[lets-get-kraken-boys]

For the yandere class 1a I would not last a bit. Like I would just start bawling my eyes out. How do you think the class would react?

(I love your writing please take care of yourself)

Oh no because SAME. I am the biggest crybaby. I feel you, boo.

However, considering the class, there's lots of ways they'd react!

Also, I wrote an imagine for Class 3-A's Big Three because I'm extra like that and HO MAH GOD, they really stole the show on this one. I AM SO SORRY I DIDN'T FOLLOW YOUR ORIGINAL IDEA! But I still hope you all like it~

(˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧

Characters Featured → Izuku (Deku), Shoto, Bakugo, The Big Three {Mirio, Tamaki, and Nejire}, and some of the members of Class 1-A

Length -> 3.1K Words

(Plz forgive me. I splurged and gave all my love to the three main boys. I left the other class members in the dust. I just have a lot of creativity coming out for them right now! If there is a specific character you'd like, please send me another request!)

:･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･.:

Deku is THE crybaby of the My Hero Academia universe, so I feel like you two would just cry a puddle together. In all honesty, while it hurts to see you filled with sorrow, he's thrilled that you feel close enough to them that you'd show enough vulnerability to cry! Even if your tears aren't about whether or not you trust the class or feel it is "safe" to cry, it doesn't matter to him. He'll cradle your head into the crook of his neck, rub your back, and hush your sobs with soft sighs. Deku loves having you close, he views it as a "bonding experience", so feel free to cry all you want! He's not leaving your side any time soon, so the two of you can cry together for as long as you'd like!

This is going to sound a little strange, but this vibe fits my image of SPECIFICALLY Yandere Izuku (or, at least, in my image of him)! You know Gyutaro from Demon Slayer? And you know how he acts when he is comforting Daki? That is kind of how I am envisioning him coddling you. Slightly teasing, but it comes mostly from a place of love and concern. The sadness in his voice (whether it is faked to amp up his teasing or not, in Gyutaro's case) adds to the image I have of Deku crying alongside you. Izuku is totally one of those people who is like, "Don't cry, because if you cry, then I'LL cry *proceeds to cry*."

"Aww, no, it's okay!" Izuku sits down next to you as you are crumpled on the ground, exhausted and upset. He loops his strong arms around your shoulders and holds on tight. He feels tears well up in his own eyes, but he can't seem to shake the giddy joy bubbling in his stomach from being close to his one and only. He sniffles, but a wide smile stretches up his cheeks, "It's alright, dear. Let it out. I'll sit with you as long as you need~!"

:･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･.:

Shoto has always been stoic because of the harsh environment he grew up in where any emotion shown is an exploitative weakness (thanks, Endeavor), so he's going to freeze up when he sees tears bubbling down your cheeks. Even as a Yandere, emotions are hard for him to wrap his head around. He can barely understand the soul-crushing feelings he has for you! So, even though you are his everything in this world, he will be rather reserved on the comforting aspect of things. Shoto is thankful in these moments that he has the rest of his class, specifically those who are more in-tune with emotional responses like Izuku, Uraraka, and Mina, to rely on.

Though, he will try to help in his own Shoto-way! Would another inconceivably expensive gift help dry your crocodile tears? Don't worry, it's his dad's card that's paying for it all! What would you like? A couple new games for your video game console so you can play together? The finest, richest, and sweetest chocolates in all of Japan? How about an all expense paid trip on the family yacht for the weekend with the whole class included? Anything you want is yours, all you have to do is name it! Though, these gifts do not come freely—he will tax you AT LEAST a two hour cuddle session in your room per each gift. IDK, seems pretty fair to me!

"Here," Shoto clears his throat, a pristine, mint green box with a perfectly constructed golden bow resting on the lid sits in his outstretched hand. You rub your eye with the heel of your palm, sniffling to clear your nose as your eyes bounce back-and-forth between Shoto's unnerving, stoic expression and the small box. On the outside, his face shows indifference, but on the inside, his poor heart is doing a dozen cartwheels after running a ten mile race. The look you're giving him (mind you, is simply a look of pure confusion) is just too cute! Don't you know what you do to him?!?!

"It's your favorite sweets. For you. Don't worry about the money, it isn't a concern." Shoto looks away, a soft dusting of blush coating his cheeks. You almost want to accept it just to get him out of your personal bubble, but you think back on the pile of all his previous expensive gifts that are stacked high in the corner of your dorm, and decide to try to deny it. Before you can utter a shaky rejection, he snatches your wrist and begins dragging you off in the direction of your dorm room, no doubt getting you ready for your practically daily cuddle session.

:･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･.:

Bakugo is a tricky one because it depends on the situation he catches you crying in. On one hand, he doesn't like to see you sad. There's some primal anger (it's different from his typical Bakugo-rage) that gets spun up to 100% in him whenever he sees you racked with sobs and curling in on yourself. The statements sprinting laps in his mind revolve solely around "tell me who hurt you so I know who to murder". Don't think he'll go soft on you because you're the extra who has his heart doing flips. Even if you are hesitant to reveal who mistreated you in fear of their, or your own, safety, Bakugo won't let up. He will poke, prod, threaten, and glare the answer right out of you. Once he has a name, you'd better get out of this rabid dog's way, because he will mow down any obstacle in his path on his way to the enemy. If you enjoyed the company of the person who made your sensitive self sad, you're going to have to find a lovely bouquet for their funeral.

HOWEVER! If HE was the one who made you cry...he is going to tease you about it. FRIENDS, LET ME EXPLAIN let me cook! Since becoming infatuated with you, he has learned to lighten up the bullying nature of his words. He isn't perfect, but he has certainly gotten better with his communication, BUT ONLY FOR YOU r.i.p to Deku's sanity bc he tried for YEARS to get this Pomeranian to change with no success, and you stroll along and make Bakugo clean up his act in SECONDS. That being said, he is, and will probs forever be, a sadist at heart—and he flourishes off of that devilish, delicious satisfaction over being the one responsible for making you have so much of an emotional response to his words that you actually CRY.

You'd be standing there, face tilted towards the ground. You’re attempting to shield the tears leaking down your pudgy cheeks from his judgmental view, but he’d know. It’s like a sixth sense he has—being able to just know when someone is showing their weaknesses to him. Being a brat is in his nature, and he’s the type of person who if you give him an inch, he’ll take the mile. Bakugo would feel an unconscious teasing sneer creep up onto his face at this pleasant view in front of him.

"Haaa???," he'd shove his hands into his pants pockets, lean down to catch your eye sight with his, forcing you to witness the glee he feels at your expense, "You're crying? Already? Ha! What a weakling. It's a wonder you made it this far without us to carry you through your mistakes. You should just give up on the whole independence thing, stop making a fool of yourself." He then confidently struts over to your side, nudging you forward with a gentle shove of his shoulder against yours as a warning to start walking back to the classroom. Katsuki watches with a side eye as even bigger tears gloop down your face, but only now he says nothing. He wishes you could understand where his mean words were coming from.

Trust me, Bakugo does say all of these things with twisted love in hopes that you'll stop being so determined to get away from him them. Bakugo's abrasive and brash, but he's no idiot. He sees how badly you want to get away from them, but he just can't find it inside himself to do the heroic thing and let you go. If this is how you react to the teasing of someone who loves you, then how can you survive in the real world against not-so-caring strangers?! The conclusion he comes to is that you can't. Don’t worry—he doesn’t mind becoming the one to take care of you, even if he is forced to be the big, bad wolf in your eyes.

:･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･.:

YOU DIDN'T ASK FOR THIS, BUT I WANTED TO WRITE ABOUT THE OTHER BIG THREE TOO BECAUSE I LOVE THEM AND I HAVE A SPARK OF CREATIVITY FOR THIS SCENARIO. PLEASE ACCEPT THIS AS MY SUBMISSION FOR CLASS 1-A AND PARDON MY LAZINESS FOR NOT WRITING THE REST OF THE STUDENTS IN THIS IMAGINE!

Our beloved Class 3-A Big Three also happen to have their eyes on you! Trust me when I say if you thought your classmates were overbearing, you're going to face a whole different overprotective beast with these three.

Mirio and Nejire basically share the same brain cell when they are together, so they just pass it on to whoever needs it most in the moment. However, when it comes to a mopey you, it is all hands on deck. They split the brain cell so they can effectively help you! They are all questions all the time, so you will be bombarded with them yelling all of these sentences in a matter of a few seconds:

"Oh no! Oh, my baby! What's wrong, sweetheart gumdrop darling???" - Nejire

"Who do I have to teach a lesson to? Don't give me that, sunshine! You're too nice for your own good! It is our job as heroes to enforce good citizenship, after all." - Mirio

"What can I get you? A warm tea? A blanket? You want a hug? I can do that easy! Hehe!" - Nejire

"Wait, I wanted to hug them first!" - Mirio

"Give it a rest, Mirio! They need comfort right now, not a fight!" - Nejire

Yeah, they're just two kids bickering over their favorite toy. They genuinely want to help you! Honest! It's just hard to not fight over you when you are simply the cutest thing they've ever seen. Nejire is also going to squeal from the cuteness you're exuding. She thinks your puffy, sad eyes and cheeks warm from an embarrassed flush is the most adorable look on you, so she isn't going to be that upset with you being down.

Tamaki is similar to Todoroki in the sense that he has no idea how to comfort emotional people, but instead of finding the courage to say or do something to help you, he is going to be HIGHLY on edge. He'll inch close when you first run up to the three of them in the hall to see what is wrong, as he is concerned why you are crying so much, but if you spare him even ONE glance, he will scamper away and face the wall in apprehension. Idiot! How could he look at you so brazenly?! Is he shameless?!?! He is such a terrible lover friend. Oh, you must hate him now for seeing you in such a vulnerable state. No! He doesn't want that! He...he l-l-loves you! He doesn't want you to go away! Oh no, what if yOU NEVER SPEAK TO HIM AGAIN OH GOD—he basically flies off the handle with worry. He's staring at the wall, shaking, afraid to do anything that may upset his flower any further.

Mirio actually has to be the one to come over and check on the poor shaking leaf of a boy for Tamaki to find the courage to say anything to you. Granted, Tamaki doesn't actually tell you the words he wishes to share with you himself.

Nejire is in the process of chatting your ears off to kingdom come and swinging you around in a tight hug when Mirio jogs back from his brief chat with the statue-esque Amajiki. Mirio shines a gorgeous smile at you as he relays Tamaki's message, "Hi, again, love! Tamaki wants to tell you that he is upset that you are crying, and to please use his handkerchief to clean your face! He insists." Mirio pries off Nejire's vice grip from you, and gently places the neat handkerchief in your palm. It is simple, white cotton with an intricate lace design stitched on the edges. You do notice that there is a dainty lilac flower embroidered with thin string on each of the four corners of the cloth.

You quietly thank Mirio, and send another thank you over Mirio's shoulder to the still shaking Tamaki. Tamaki does acknowledge your thanks with a violently tremoring thumbs up. You wipe the long tear streaks off your face, blow your nose, and take a couple of deep breaths to calm your fragile heart.

"So, what's going on, lovebug? Why all the tears?" Nejire has finally chilled out enough to ask serious questions instead of just fawning over your cuteness.

"It...it's—I don't—ugh...I-I'm s-sorry...," you're hiccupping for air, tripping all over your sentence as you feel the hot tears of embarrassment come back. You grit your teeth as another shuddering sob comes out. You can't believe you're crumbling like this in front of your superiors. Your upper classmates. You should know better than this! You're not a baby anymore! They are practically your teachers! How stupid you must look wailing and moaning like a newborn. You turn to run away, but two pairs of callused, powerful hands grab your shoulders and arms.

"No, baby, it's okay! You don't have to be sorry. Please tell us what's going on." Nejire pulls you close to her again, cupping your head into her shoulder and rubbing your back as encouragement.

"You're okay, (Y/N), no one is going to hurt you. Not while we're here. What's up?" Mirio stood beside you as a comforting hulk of a man that made you feel warm and safe. The fluttery feeling of seeing you with glassy eyes and running to him for safety like he was your hero and true love began wearing off, and the new feeling of wanting to bring immense harm to whoever had the nerve to mess with his sunshine took over. This situation wasn't just you tripping over your own two feet in the hallway in front of your teachers or something simple like that. This must be serious. He needs you to tell him what happened now before he does something irresponsible and with little thought behind his actions.

Even Tamaki perked up to hear what you were going to say. Again, he truly does want to help! He's trying to be brave for you. He didn't peel entirely away from the wall, but he did tilt his head to the side to better hear your tale.

Inhaling a few more deep breaths, you opened up, "It's...my class. They just—they won't leave me alone! Mina and Hagakure always want to play games with me, hug me, poke me, ANYTHING! They never give me space! Momo and Iida won't stop asking me if I want a private study session even though my grades are beyond fine. They even tried to force their way into my room last night to "check up" on me after I didn't want to have dinner with all of them!"

You continued after gently blowing your nose again into Tamaki's handkerchief, "I feel like I'm being watched all the time, even when I'm not around any of them! Last night, I woke up at like 3 AM and I SWEAR I saw Tokoyami's Dark Shadow in the corner of my room just...watching me. I tried asking him about it today, but he kept brushing me off. But he didn't deny any of what I said! I'm...scared. Not to mention Sero, Denki, and Kirishima won't stop messing with me! They keep tugging on my vest, breaking off buttons on my shirt, pulling at my bottoms, touching my hair—I keep asking them to back off, but they just won't stop." You hiccupped through your tears again, but it looked like you had more to say, so the three of them stayed quiet.

You started again, now with a much quieter voice, "But the worst is those three. Midoriya, Todoroki, and Bakugo. I'm always bothered by at least one of them all the time. Izuku hangs all over me and it's like he doesn't listen to a thing I say! I ask him to leave me alone, he says I don't know what I want and continues to push me. Todoroki won't stop giving me things I don't need or want that I can't repay back. Shoto says I only need to pay him back in "quality time"—which is basically him holding me prisoner in my own bed every other night. And Bakugo...I swear, I don't know if he sees me as an enemy or a doll to be tossed around. He's always talking down to me, insulting my fighting style or pointing out if I'm distracted. He goes out of his way to make fun of my appearance or if I say the wrong thing. He's...actually the reason I came looking for you three. I just don't know what to do anymore."

It was safe to say the three of them were livid to hear about all the torture you were being unwillingly dragged through. Mirio and Tamaki most of all. Mirio was infuriated to hear how Izuku had been treating you. Him, who Mirio had full trust in and respect—both of those qualities had tanked in a matter of a few minutes of hearing your recollection. Tamaki couldn't believe how Kirishima was behaving when he'd sworn to be the "manliest man to ever step foot in the Hero Alliance". Nejire was more upset to hear how her girls were having so much fun playing with little cute you without inviting her, but she was beyond fuming when she discovered how the disgusting boys were getting close to you. She felt like her words could melt metal with how fiery they felt building up in her throat.

"Hmm, how awful," Mirio had a terrifyingly dark look in his eye, one that made a shiver scamper up your spine. You'd never seen him so upset. All your tears dried as you heard him utter to his two friends that were now standing at his sides, "I think it's time we paid another educational visit to our promising young heroes, hmm~?"

:･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･.:

You know, I do this every time. I start writing, I don't stop writing, and when I'm done, it's hardly an imagine anymore. This is practically a whole bloody fic at this point! And I get so mad at myself for doing it too because this took me all day to write LMAOOOO. BUT! I hope you all like it! I adore The Big Three, so I hope to write for them again. They are cool hehe :3

With Love,

Kraken 🐙

[bestiesenpai]

sukuna bridgerton au pt2

Writing this immediately after posting the first one because this brings me so much joy. The dress I had in mind for the wedding was the one worn by Princess Charlotte in 1816 so if you’d like a visual please refer to that

part one — part three -- part four

Link to the ring i mention here

You managed to push the appointment with the modiste to a further date, reminding your mother that Sukuna hadn’t even proposed yet.

“Oh but he will!” She countered, giddy as could be. “At the coming ball he will.”

“Did he tell you himself?” Crossing your arms in resignation, it felt like you were the mother and she the child with you trying to quell her excitement over something that hasn’t yet happened.

“He did! Asked your father for permission to propose the day after your first meeting!” That made your jaw drop and any further words you had to say were quelled, the fire inside you dampened for a moment.

On the night of this fateful ball, it was forced upon you to wear Sukuna’s family color, Prussian blue. To have gloves or a purse of the color would have been fine with you but a whole dress was too obvious and put you at risk of embarrassment should he decide not to propose after all. But with your parents too blindsided by this burgeoning royal connection there was no hope of talking them out of it.

“(Y/N)!” Walking into the party, you immediately sought out your friends. A few of them had actually been proposed to already and you marveled at their rings decorated with beauties such as emeralds and rubies.

“You’ll get yours soon enough!” They teased, making butterflies erupt inside you despite your best efforts. A fit of giggles took over you as you thought about what the ring might look like.

“We shall see, girls!” Wiggling your bodies, you made your way to the refreshments table, eager to fill your stomachs before descending upon the dance floor. A few men filled your dance card as you ate and you danced with them gleefully. This felt like your last night of freedom before Sukuna caught you within his grasp.

The party was just about in full swing when the Queen and Sukuna made their entrance, causing everyone to pause for a moment to greet them properly. You were just in the throws of a spirited dance with an older male acquaintance when it all stopped. Out of breath and with a ditzy smile on your face, you curtseyed just as every other woman did, barely paying any attention to Sukuna’s long look in your direction. Once the music started up again, instead of coming to him like he assumed you would, you returned to dancing.

“Jealous?” The Queen quipped with a teasing smirk on her face.

“No. Never.” Quickly fixing his gaze to what was ahead of him, Sukuna shook his head. “Come, let's find our seats.” He ignored the chuckle behind him as he led the way and he staunchly ignored the sick feeling in the pit of his stomach - that was something he would rather die over than confront.

After finally finishing every dance with the men on your card, you were able to slink away and find respite. You were admittedly a little tipsy from the Italian ratafia, the cherries in it slightly addicting and adding to the flavor of the pastries you were becoming so fond of.

“Miss (Y/N), His Highness wishes to see you.” A footman interrupted your period of indulgence and motioned to the perch at the head of the room where Sukuna was standing and waiting.

“Please inform His Highness that I am preoccupied at the moment and shall see him when I’m ready.” Giving the footman a curt smile, you snagged another pastry and drink and walked off into another area of the party where some games were being played.

“What is my wife thinking, denying me an audience?” Not even five minutes later Sukuna had appeared behind you and you could feel his annoyance.

“Wife? Who is that?” Looking down at your empty ring finger, you chuckled to yourself. “It seems I am unfamiliar with her, Your Highness.” You laughed again, this time made louder at someone's display in charades. Sukuna laughed as well so as not to arouse suspicion of any ill will.

“Miss (Y/N), I wish for you to accompany me to the main hall.” He said, coming to properly stand next to you.

“I decline that offer, Your Highness.” You didn’t even turn to look at him, instead keeping your eyes on the game and shouting when another person guessed the right answer.

“I- you cannot be serious.” Pinching the bridge of his nose, Sukuna sighed shortly. “Please, you know what has to happen right now.”

“It can wait until this game is over.” You pushed back, finally sparing him a glance. “After all, a gentleman listens to a lady when she says no, does he not?” Your question stopped all further argument from Sukuna and he relented, allowing you to finish your refreshments and watch the game.

“There, it is over now.” Huffing, Sukuna let his hand hover near the crook of your elbow. “Now will you please follow me?”

“That wasn’t so hard now, was it?” Giving him a big cheeky grin you walked off ahead and once in the main hall, you stood where he wanted you to, just a few feet in front of the Queen. Clearing his throat, Sukuna motioned for the orchestra to stop playing as he drew everyone's attention to the two of you.

“Thank you for your attention everyone.” He started off, giving the room a once over. “I will not keep you long as I know we are all eager to enjoy the night, but I ask that you bear witness to what I am about to do.”

Taking a deep breath, as if on cue a footman stepped forward and handed him a small velvet box. Sukunas eyes were staring straight at you as he bent down to one knee, making everyone in the room hold their breath.

“Miss (Y/N),” he started, making sure he was loud enough for the room to hear, “even though we have only known each other a short time, I feel the chemistry between us. I do not want to waste time and have you possibly stolen from me by another…” You could tell he was faking being nervous by the way he paused and looked around the room. Always one for a show, he is.

“Will you please marry me?” As the words left his lips you heard your mother gasp and out of the corner of your eye you could see her clutch your fathers sleeve. It felt like time stood still as you looked at Sukuna, then the Queen, then the crowd before you. The scale had tipped in your favor, the power was in your hands; you could say no.

“Yes.” The crowd erupted into applause, launching Sukuna to stand and grab your hand.

“I knew you’d say yes.” He teased, slipping the very large ring onto your finger. It was a gorgeous sapphire, the same Prussian blue as his house colors, with a twisted pavé of sparkling diamonds around it and going down the band. “That's a 7 carat sapphire.” Sukuna boasted, turning your hand so it shined in the light.

“Beautiful indeed.” Seeing the ring and feeling the weight on your finger made what was happening all real and coupled with Sukuna holding your hand so gingerly, it made your heart flutter.

Turning to the Queen, you both bowed to her, earning a nod of the head in return. Turning to the crowd, it was only moments before your friends and family crowded around to congratulate you and see the ring. So many were in awe of the size and their jealousy was hardly contained, some looking down to their own rings in disappointment.

It took a while for the party to return to normal but you eventually found yourself being surrounded by your friends again at a table in the other room, sipping on far too many cocktails in the name of celebration.

“To (Y/N)!” They all cried, equally if not more intoxicated than you were. “May Her Highness not forget about us when she resides in the palace!”

“Please!” You laughed at the new title. “As if I could ever forget my dearest friends!” At that, you raised your glasses and polished them off, trying and failing to gently place them on the table.

You all stayed until the end of the party, stumbling out of your seats and finding your respective chaperones once it was time to leave. Unable to find your mother or father, you wandered around the garden and admired the topiary.

“Aren’t you cold out here?” A familiar voice sounded and you didn’t need to turn to see who it was.

“Not at all, Your Highness. I rather enjoy the evening breeze.” In truth you were but the alcohol was dulling your senses.

“Do not call me that anymore, we’re engaged. Call me by my given name.”

“I will do no such thing.” Turning to him, you shook your head a little too hard. “That should be reserved for people in love and we are not in love.” He groaned in annoyance and followed behind you as you walked in the garden. Sukuna felt the urge to demand you call him by his name, force you to bend to his will but he couldn’t find it in him. So instead he walked quietly and said nothing.

“I do like the ring.” You broke the silence, turning to face him once you decided you’d seen enough.

“You do? It's a family heirloom. Belonged to a grandpa's cousin's aunt or something like that.”

“Hm.” You didn’t laugh at his attempt at a joke even if it did amuse you slightly. Swaying on your feet, you held your hand up at eye level, the gold of the ring contrasting with the black velvet gloves you were wearing.

“It’s quite late and everyone is leaving. We should do the same.” The two of you were close enough to the house that no one would be scandalized by your being unchaperoned but Sukuna knew that if you were in your right mind you would be worried.

“Find my mother then.” Your eyes were still fixed on the ring. Sukuna scoffed at you and brought his hand to yours, attempting to grab onto it. “Do not!” You drew back, clutching your hand to your chest.

“Miss, please.” Sukuna was trying to be a gentleman and ensure your safety though truth be told he wasn’t sure why it mattered so much to him. He could have easily just walked off and gotten a footman to keep watch on you as he gathered your parents.

“I thought you wanted to use given names.” Tilting your head to the side, you looked at him curiously.

“I- be quiet.” A light flush rested over his cheeks and that irritated Sukuna. “Just come inside with me at the very least.” He was feeling the cold and he knew it was worse for you in your dress especially since your shawl had been discarded somewhere.

You stared back at him wordlessly as if seeing him for the first time. Squinting your eyes, you took in his attire, his Prussian blue tailcoat with metallic gold thread embroidered throughout and his crisp white waistcoat peeking out from underneath. The cravat he had on was tied intricately like when you had first met him and the ribbon to his pocket watch was also blue, dangling with an ornate cross and the seal of the kingdom. Gone were the boots he had worn previously, opting instead to adopt the shoes other men wore. His hair had been styled, trimmed and slicked back to showcase more of his face.

“Handsome.” You mumbled, taking a step toward Sukuna.

“What?” Your response surprised him but he didn’t move as you came forward and lifted a hand to graze his cheek.

“This is the first time I’m truly looking at you, Your Highness.”

“H-had you not seen me before?” He cursed himself for the stutter in his words but when the back of your hand brushed his cheek it made his tongue heavy. This softness from you was unexpected and he didn’t know how to handle it.

“I suppose not, hm?” It was like you were entranced by him, mesmerized by his beauty. Sukuna couldn’t tell if you were even really looking at him since your eyes had a faraway look to them. Raising his hand, he cupped yours as it dropped to run along his jaw and he could smell the faint perfume you had sprayed on your gloves. Something delicate and subtle, floral perhaps, just like a lady to use.

“Shall we…” Sukuna was going to ask to take you inside once more but you surprised him again by taking another step forward and resting your hand at the base of his throat. Your thumb ran along his Adam's apple, causing him to swallow quite loudly.

“Yes, let's.” You answered his unspoken question, dropping your hand from him entirely and sidestepping him to go inside. Sukuna remained glued to his spot however, his heart beating so hard he worried he was going to die.

“What is going on with me?” He wondered aloud, flexing his hands in front of him and begging his body to settle. Sure he had women flirt with him before but nothing as tender as this and he was positive you had no idea you were even flirting in the first place. You just…saw him, just observed how he looked and made no effort to do anything about it, hardly even complimented him excessively like he was used to.

By the time Sukuna made it back inside you had left with your parents and he was alone, the Queen having left already as well. Riding back to the palace by himself, Sukuna retraced where your hand had been on his face and sighed, recounting the velvet of your glove and the faintness of your perfume. It unsettled him that as he lay down to sleep he still thought of you and even in his dreams you appeared.

The next few weeks were a blur of wedding preparations. The Queen decided you’d be married at the end of the month, putting a time crunch on everything. You now went to a royal tailor instead of your usual modiste, there were what felt like a dozen ladies maids helping making decisions for you and you hardly had time to sleep.

So much happened in that month that you hardly even saw Sukuna at all. The only times you were together were to tour one of the Queens villas where the wedding was to be hosted and when there was a portrait painted of the two of you together to commemorate the wedding and to serve as a gift from the Queen. And both times you were chaperoned and you were too tired to truly make conversation.

The morning of your wedding came much too fast and you were up at dawn being bathed, fed a light meal and taken to the villa to be dressed in the most expensive outfit you would most likely ever wear. There were more layers being put on than you were used to and your corset was tied just a bit tighter.

“(Y/N).” Your parents stood at the doorway as your wedding dress was settled onto you. Looking at them through a mirror, you could only smile at the way they were getting teary; you’d been instructed not to move by the head maid and she was very serious in her request. You were spritzed with perfume and white gloves were slid onto your hands at the same time you were donned with jewelry. The weight of such pieces, on loan from the royal family for such an occasion, made you nervous beyond compare.

“Final touch, Miss.” Looking back at yourself, you watched as a tiara was taken from a velvet box and put atop your head, secured by pins before a beautiful lacy veil was put on top to complete the look.

“Oh, my daughter.” Your mother couldn’t contain herself and turned away, dabbing at her lashline with her handkerchief. Collecting herself quickly, she stepped into the room and let her hand ghost over the veil. “You are…magnificent.” She whispered, finally grasping your hand tightly.

“Thank you.” You couldn’t look away from yourself, everything was done so precisely. Your dress had more jewels and pearls than you’d seen in your life and you were afraid to touch it or even breathe too much in it; it felt as if you were a living work of art, one that must not be disturbed in any manner for any thing.

“Here Miss, to calm your nerves.” The head maid handed you a dainty glass cup filled with a dark liquid and the scent made your nose burn slightly.

“W-what is this?”

“Spiced brandy.”

“But I’m not nervous!”

“Oh trust me Miss, you will be.” She motioned for you to drink and you looked back down at the cup. It was small enough that you could drink it quickly and be done with it, so you steeled yourself and shot it back, almost retching before the maid slapped a hand over your mouth and got you to swallow it.

“O-oh my god.” You coughed, almost dropping the cup. “That was awful.”

“You’ll thank me later, promise.” She said, patting you on the back and then fixing your makeup. The alcohol worked quickly, making your body warm and a bit looser.

“They’re ready, ma’am.” Another maid announced from the doorway, signaling it was time to get going.

“Right this way.” Led out of the dressing room and down the hallway, the further you went the louder the chatter from all the guests became and the piano playing as background music was nearly drowned out by the buzz of excitement. Coming upon the grand hall, a maid rushed out of one of the doors and for a brief moment you saw just how many people - how many royal people - had attended.

“Thank you for that drink.” You swiftly turned to the head maid who nodded knowingly at you.

“Miss (Y/N) is ready.” She spoke to a footman instead who knocked on the large wooden doors in front of you three times, and through them you heard another gather the attention of the crowd.

As the doors opened, your mother and eldest brother went first and your hand gripped the arm your father had hooked into yours. Your whole life has led up to this moment, this exact time. This was what everyone wanted from you and you were providing as you should, but you couldn’t stop shaking.

“Father.” You turned to him before you stepped into the light from the doorway. “I-I’m nervous, what if I mess up?”

“My love.” He spoke kindly to you, softer than he ever had before. “You could fail a thousand times in a thousand ways and you would still be perfect.” Brushing over your veil, he took a deep breath himself. “Besides, you are not the only one that’s nervous.”

You chuckled breathlessly as he said that and then it was time to walk forward into the light of the venue, into what was fast becoming your new life. Swallowing thickly, you followed him as your father led you to stand in the doorway.

Walking down the aisle was something you’d spoken about, hell even practiced with your siblings and friends as a joke throughout the years, but doing the actual deed was much different. Your eyes roamed over all the guests standing at attention and drinking you in. There was no way to miss all their eyes on you and the way they followed as you walked down. No one said a word, no one dared even breathe too loud as you moved closer and closer to Sukuna.

Sukuna, who was dressed in the most formal attire you’d ever seen him in: a full dress royal military uniform complete with silky white gloves, an Order of the Garter sash, gold aiguillettes and a few medals you didn’t know the meaning of. His military hat was being held by a groomsman behind him and you dared to briefly look down and see his shoes were shined to perfection and he had a full dress sword with a golden tassel hanging from it.

The walk was over before you knew it and soon your father was unwinding his arm from yours to shake Sukunas hand. Giving you a brief kiss on the cheek, you heard him sniffle before he turned away and took his seat with your family.

Standing for a moment, Sukuna looked awestruck as he stared at you. His eyes were a tad wider than they usually were and for a second you thought you saw his eyes get glassy. Holding out his hand, Sukuna helped you up the three small steps onto the altar before letting go and standing at attention before the archbishop.

He wanted desperately to say something to you before the vows started, wanted to say how stunning you were and how happy he was to see you walk down the aisle. But none of that came to him; you had quite truly taken his breath away. So instead, he hyper-focused on the archbishop's words and made sure he said the right things at the right times.

After the last ‘I do’, Sukuna turned to you and lifted your veil almost too slowly, too carefully, as if he was afraid that with any wrong move you would shatter into thousands of pieces. Once he had lifted the veil and folded it away, he stared at you for what felt like ages before he forced air into his chest and leaned forward.

To your relief the kiss didn’t last too long, you weren’t sure how much longer you could take being stared at like this. Both of yours’ lips trembled upon touching and while he did put a little force behind it, Sukuna still made sure to be gentle.

“Shall we?” He whispered once he pulled away, offering his hand and motioning back down the aisle. You couldn’t find the words, so you just nodded your head and allowed him to lead you down. The sound of the guests cheering surprised you and you looked around at all who attended. There were royals from different countries that were here in their traditional dress, all of whom you’d only read about and never thought you’d ever see. All of your friends were there and half the ton, something that brought you great comfort. There was still a sense of familiarity in all of this.

Once the two of you had left the room, it was a mad dash with the servants to fix your makeup and get the two of you into the next room to start receiving guests. Going to the reception hall, you smiled at the inclusion of your favorite flowers and colors along with Sukunas Prussian blue.

Sitting down on an ornate chaise lounge, you thanked the servants that fluffed out your dress and settled your veil over the rest of the seat, letting the full length of it be on display. You weren’t sitting side by side with Sukuna, moreover he sat straight on whereas you were at a slight angle facing him with your dress brushing his knee every so often.

“You look…” He finally spoke, fixing his hat and gloves nervously.

“Yes?” You urged, trying to meet his eyes. It was unlike him to be coy like this.

“Absolutely breathtaking.” The words were a whisper on his lips and he glanced at you as he said them, eager to look back down at his gloved fingers.

“You’re serious?”

“Of course I am. You’re my wife.” Clearing his throat, Sukuna grabbed your hand and held it on his thigh. “Let them in!” He called to the footman and the doors were opened, with the first people ushered in being the Queen, followed by your family. Following Sukuna’s lead, you did not stand when she entered which had you twitching anxiously.

“To the happy new couple.” She said, giving a small clap. “I hope you enjoy the honeymoon I’ll provide to you.”

“Th-thank you, Your Majesty!” Your mouth dropped in shock, you forgot about the honeymoon. And with a honeymoon came consummating the marriage and you could feel your face begin to burn at the idea.

“(Y/N)!” All your siblings cried, rushing in once the Queen had made her exit. The younger ones leapt onto you while a sister right behind you in age ran her fingers over your veil. There was so much they were saying, how beautiful you looked and how ready they were for cake and it had you tearing up.

“Why are you crying?” Your mother asked, immediately grabbing a handkerchief to stem your tears.

“I-I’m going to miss you all, so so much!” Releasing Sukuna’s hand, you allowed your mother to clutch both of them.

“Listen to me, (Y/N)! You’ll see us again! It’s not as if you’re going on some great journey for five years, it’s just to the neighboring kingdom! Why, we can even come visit you if you’d like!” With your mother comforting you like a child, it was up to Sukuna to entertain your siblings and he was not prepared for the ordeal.

“Be careful with that sword!” Somehow two younger brothers managed to begin to unsheathe his sword with the intention of playing with it.

“Your Highness, since you’re our new brother can I ask you something?”

“Yes?”

“Why is your hair pink?”

“Everyone, please!” The look of exasperation quickly growing on Sukuna’s face pulled you out of your misery and a light laugh came out. “Let him rest, we have other guests to greet.”

“Yes, say goodbye to your sister and let us go out to the garden.”

“Bye!” Nearly smothered in a thousand hugs, they all eventually left. Before the next guests were brought in, a maid touched up your makeup at your mothers request.

“You’ll see them again, I promise.” Sukuna said, fixing his coat and a medal that had gone askew. “After our honeymoon we can bring them to the country estate.” Looking at Sukuna’s face you could tell he meant it and that made you smile.

“Thank you.”

As guest after guest came through, your knowledge of politics was put to the test. There was the Emperor Satoru Gojo who you knew Sukuna had a sometimes-not-so-friendly rivalry with. Archduke Nanami Kento whose people were renowned for their knowledge of cooking. King Getou Suguru hailed from a mountainous region with a high monkey population. All of them were kind to you, wishing you well and offering to host you in their country should you ever want to visit.

“Stay still.” Sukuna said abruptly as the next guests came in. The mood immediately shifted upon their entrance and you felt the air leave the room as a group of three filed in. They were clearly aristocrats or royalty Sukuna knew with the way he jumped up out of his seat.

“Your Highness!” There was one in the front who was clearly the leader, his yellow blonde hair contrasted with its dark tips. He had a few black metal piercings on each ear and the way he spoke made you bristle. “What a beautiful wedding!” Walking further into the room, the man locked eyes with you. “And an even more gorgeous wife.”

“Do not speak to her.” Sukuna stepped into his line of sight, effectively cutting you off. Looking at the rest of the group, there was a horrendously scarred woman staring at the floor and a man with inky black hair and a scar at the edge of his mouth. “What business do you have here?”

“Relax, we’re just here to pay our respects!” The blonde man began to waltz around the room with his arms open. “Why, a wedding truly has a way of bringing people together, does it not?” Returning to his previous position in the room, the man motioned to you. “Now, will you introduce us or do we have to do it ourselves?”

“You will not speak to her, you will not look at her.” Sukuna was irate, you could see it in the way his body had puffed up and his hand hovered near the hilt of his sword.

“Nonsense!” The man dared to take a step further and Sukuna gripped his sword, causing the woman to go into motion and move the cape she’d been wearing to the side, revealing a jagged looking blade tucked against her. You heard a few maids stifle terrified noises and you moved without thinking.

“M-my name is (Y/N)!” You shot up out of your seat, making everyone turn to you. The look in Sukuna’s eyes as he turned was white hot and scalding, forcing you to look away. “Her Highness, Crown Princess Ryomen (Y/N).” It was hard to say the entirety of your new title without stuttering but somehow you managed.

“What a beautiful name for a beautiful woman!” Sidestepping Sukuna, the blonde man held out his hand for you and you followed suit, playing whatever game he wanted and resting your hand in his, letting him kiss the back of it. “I am Tsar Zenin, Naoya Zenin.”

Your brow furrowed as you thought back to your schooling. There had been no mention of a Naoya Zenin anywhere in your books or in the newspapers and bulletins your father read. The Zenin family name was vague to you at best; but there was no time to dwell on it further as Naoya flicked his head and the man with the scarred lip came forward and pulled out a wooden box.

“Your Highness, allow me to give you a gift!” The top of the wooden box was removed with flair and inside was a thick suede headband, adorned with large circular diamonds forming a floral pattern with a few other colored gems dotting the empty spaces. There was also a pair of matching earrings that looked much too big for your ears.

“What do you think?” Naoya asked quietly.

“It’s- they’re very beautiful, thank you.” His expression was making you uncomfortable and you glanced at Sukuna. He had gone completely still as he watched the scene unfold before him.

“I hope to see you wearing them when you visit my country. Many women wear this style and I think it would suit you.”

“She will do no such thing.” Sukunas voice broke the buzzing tension in the air, ripping Naoya away from you and scoffing at the gift he gave. “I would never have my wife go anywhere near a country where a prince kills his whole family just to be in power.”

You gasped, nearly stumbling back at the news. Naoya’s eyes flicked to you and his smile faltered; he didn’t want you to know that part about him and moreover if you did come to know, he wanted to be the one to tell you and control the narrative you heard.

“Princess, don-”

“Do not speak to her!” Sukuna grabbed Naoya roughly by the collar and they locked eyes. Naoyas lackeys stood poised and ready should a fight break out but Naoya seemed perfectly content with the situation.

“I see the groom has had enough of us. We shall take our leave.” Raising his hands in surrender, Naoya slowly backed away with a cocky grin on his face. Turning to you, he put a hand on his chest and bowed. “Princess, I hope we meet again soon. I wish to bask in your beauty even longer next time.” With no other words, Naoya and his group left the way they came, making sure to leave the wooden box on a credenza by the door.

As soon as they left, Sukuna was in front of you, inspecting you with his eyes. His body was still painfully tense and you could see the way his teeth ground together every so often.

“Are you mad at me?” You were afraid he would start yelling at you at any moment, reprimand you for speaking to Naoya and not letting him handle the situation. Sukuna didn’t react to your question, instead picking up the hand that Naoya touched and wiping it off on his jacket.

“How are you?” He asked instead.

“I’m fine. I apologize for-”

“No. Stop.” Shaking his head, Sukuna bit back a sigh. “I am not mad at you. I am mad at myself for not expecting that a potential enemy to the kingdom would use this day as an opportunity to try and do something. I…I’m mad that I failed to protect you.” Sukuna shook his head again and looked down at the medals on his jacket. “I’m a godforsaken general afterall.”

After taking a moment to collect yourselves, you received the rest of your guests in quick succession. Seeing your friends helped push your shaken nerves away and so was seeing the rest of the ton. With the reception over, you moved into the main hall to continue the festivities.

“Excuse me.” Once inside, Sukuna made a beeline for a table occupied by a few of the royalty you had met with. They were sharing a few bottles of champagne and Sukuna popped one open and wasted no time drinking almost half of it.

As the wedding went on you were able to forget about Naoya and the seriousness of the situation. You danced with friends and family and even some members of the ton that had been jealous or disapproving of you getting to marry the prince. Everyone was in high spirits and it made you happy to be able to bring everyone together.

With the evening coming to a close, you realized you and Sukuna had hardly seen each other. You saw him dance with a few people, even the Queen, but for the most part he was drinking with his friends and playing yard games. Whenever you caught his eye he would wave, each time getting drunker and drunker.

“Your Highness, I know you’re to start your honeymoon right away as Prince Sukuna requested but he’s in no shape to travel tonight.” A footman gave you the information with a sorry look on his face and you understood why; Sukuna had drank so much he had to retreat from the party early to throw up. Emperor Gojo and King Getou were in no better shape passed out on the lawn and Archduke Nanami was nursing his last drink with a bright flush on his cheeks.

“I understand. Please, see to it that he cleans up and rests for tonight and I will see our guests off.” You pitied the valet’s that would have to wrestle Sukuna into a bathtub. Turning back to the party, it wouldn’t be so bad to finish it alone as a few guests had already taken their leave.

“A shame about your new husband, my dear.” The Queen came to stand at your side, making your back immediately straighten.

“Yes, it is.”

“He told me what happened. With the Tsar.” She spoke quietly, bringing her fan to the front of her face. “Tell me, what do you think of the whole matter?”

“I…” Truth be told, you tried not to think about it. “I do not think we should rush into responding to this…intrusion. I feel as though Naoya is just playing, he wanted to test the Prince's patience; see how far he could go.”

“I agree. The Zenin family has had a bloody climb to power but I know they wouldn’t be stupid enough to rush into any conflict just yet. Their country is on shaky ground as it is, Naoya must secure his right to the throne before he looks elsewhere.” The Queen's words were reassuring and enough to give you peace of mind. She always knew what to say, so confident in her words and actions; you hoped to emulate her one day when Sukuna took the throne.

“My diamond, let’s give your guests a proper farewell. Your honeymoon awaits you.” Putting her fan away, the Queen gently grabbed your hand and squeezed.

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

[sykokilljoyy]

If reqs are still open, could you do w2s harry x golden retriever!Reader? Like she’s just always happy and overjoyed? I’m curious to see their dynamic

WROETOSHAW X GOLDEN RETRIEVER!READER HEADCANONS

a/n: i am in love with whoever sent this anon. i love people w golden retriever energy they're my favs so this is my fav y/n concept ever ever. also quickly learnt i have no idea how to spell retriever it's so hard for no reason. love u all!! more writing coming soon x

firstly, this man is cuddly. i don't care who you ask, he's a real life teddy bear and i'm not accepting any arguments

so when it comes to you, and your very apparent love language of touch, this sweet man cannot stop his arms from opening to you.

2am, 6am, 11pm, no matter when, and no matter the reason, he can't deny how persuasive your giddy grin can be, and the puppy dog eyes, of course

you're his biggest supporter by a mile

he makes some toast?? round of applause for this man

you're so proud of him no matter what

and you make it so obvious, which he appreciates beyond words

you both come as a package

wherever he goes, you go – happily, with a smile on your face

to summarise the dynamic, it's a lot of heart eyes

the first time you both went public with the relationship, on a Sidemen Sunday of all places, the comments consisted of basically a lot of;

'oh my god the way they look at him is so cute'

'i can't get over the way they look at him'

'Y/N IS ADORABLE I CAN'T'

harry is a big gift giver

sometimes it's hard for him to convey his emotions with words, he can struggle with affection from time to time

but when things get hard and he can't tell you how much he loves you, you'll come home to a beautiful necklace, or tickets to a concert from favourite artist, or a romantic getaway somewhere expensive

you hop excitedly into his room to thank him

he's sitting at his desk, nervous, hoping his gift is telling you what he can't

him seeing your bright, loving smile and the buzz in your eyes makes his whole body relax and he finally finds the words

“i love you so much, y/n”

you jump to him, face buried in his neck, and he can't deny that the feeling of your embrace makes his heart sore out of his chest

one morning, after a long day the day before

you’re laying in his bed, barely conscious, your eyes still misty from sleep

immediately, you feel harry’s arms pull gently at your waist, bringing you towards him

his lips are on your cheek, hands touching your skin softly

he can feel your smile without even opening his eyes

“you know you reach for me in your sleep” he whispers, his voice is still haunted by sleep

“because i love you, and you’re always warm”

“you’re like a golden retriever, you know”

he feels you smile wider

the only downside of this dynamic, is when arguments arise

conflict is always natural in a relationship, and you do understand that

but you wear your heart on your sleeve, and your admiration for your boyfriend is so strong that when it gets rough, and maybe communication gets skewed, you find it incredibly hard

if he needs space, you find it difficult to keep your mind from him

you give him whatever he needs to get his head straight, and he does the same, but it rattles you a little, not being with him when you need to the most

but when he calls you one night, with his tone warm as honey, asking how you are, that he's missed you and he's ready to talk things through, your heart fills with happiness and relief

overall, it's the sweetest dynamic, and harry adores it

you're a bundle of joy with a heart of gold, and the love you have for this man, you're never secretive about it

he wouldn't ever change it for the world <3

[targaryenmarvel]

Fallin' All In You (Part 5) - Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Summary: You’ve known Wanda Maximoff since you were children. She was the shy and exceptionally beautiful twin sister of your best friend, Pietro. For the most part, you two never interacted, but that changes when against your better judgment, you begin to develop feelings for the girl. 

Warnings: Only cursing for now

Note: It took me a while to finish this chapter, but here we are. This story was originally going to end in the last chapter, but I decided to extend it and add two more as I felt there was more to tell. If there are any requests, I can continue with the drabbles while I work on my next story. Anyways, enjoy!

Word count: 3,073

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

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After your exhilarating day, you rested in bed, grinning at the ceiling like a love-sick fool. The day's events weighed heavy on your mind, the memories making you giddy with excitement and happiness.

You thought of the softness of Wanda's lips and her agile tongue against your own, fighting for dominance. She had ultimately won, rendering you into a whimpering mess in her arms. You had skipped a few steps, but neither of you was complaining. The date would come soon.

Although you shared sweet and tender moments, a question lay heavily over your heads. What were you going to do about Pietro? You had been prepared to confess your feelings for his sister to him earlier. Yet now you weren't so sure on how to proceed. Too entrapped in Wanda's kisses and embrace, you had forgotten to breach the subject. A problem for later, you thought as Wanda sent you a message.

Wanda: Can't wait for our date ❤︎

It wasn't until days later your dread came to a peak. You sat on Pietro's bed with the boy at your side. The both of you clicked away at your controllers, guiding the movement of the figures on the television screen. You were playing the latest FIFA game. Pietro masterfully passed the ball around while you lagged, distracted by your thoughts. 

Guilt racked through your body, forbearing your relationship with Wanda from your friend finally taking a toll. You were ready to proclaim your feelings, but Wanda seemed reluctant. You recalled your conversation with the girl from the day before.

You found yourself freshening up after another game. Your teammates were long gone, and you always seemed to be the last to leave. You were pulling on a clean shirt when you felt a presence behind you. 

"Almost done, Nat," you half-mindedly say, thinking it's Natasha there to scold you for lingering too long.

"Hey," a much sweeter voice called, causing you to turn hastily.

"Hey," you repeated, grinning at the girl.

"Your team was great."

You playfully scoffed, clutching your chest. "Wow, what about me? No compliment for me? Is this about my gigantic ego?"

Wanda chuckled, slowly walking closer like a predator to its prey. "I will admit I'm mildly impressed by the fact you've scored until now."

"Do I get a reward?" you ask as she's inches away from your face.

Wanda rested her hands on your chest, nose brushing against your own. "I don't know. What do you want?"

You couldn't resist any longer as you closed the distance, eagerly taking her lips in your own. Gentle hands pulled you closer by your shoulder as you rested your own on her waist. The kiss was slow, filled with pent-up mutual desire.

You were ready to deepen the kiss when Wanda's phone buzzed, startling you, and you broke away.

"Sorry," Wanda said, checking her phone. "It's Pietro wondering where I am. I should head back. You coming?" 

"Yeah," you answered, grabbing your bag as a frown adorned your features. Guilt had replaced the joy from moments ago. Wanda, of course, noticed your change in mood. 

"What's wrong?" You took your hand comfortingly.

"Nothing." She tilted her head, nonbelieving, and you felt your stomach flip. You sighed, resigned, "It's just Pietro. What are we going tell him?" 

Wanda froze like a deer caught in headlights, startled by your question. Although she, too, had thought of how to proceed with her brother, her thoughts on the subject were much different. 

While Wanda stood there tongue-tied, you took her reaction as doubt, prompting you to ask, "Do we tell him?"

"No!" she said too quickly, and you felt her comforting touch turn into scolding fire. You released her hand, and Wanda realized her mistake. "Y/N, no. It's not like that. I promise I want to tell him I do, but you two are best friends, and I would hate to mess up your relationship. I'm just asking for time."

"Time?"

"Yes, to ensure that what we have is real and will work."

You wanted to tell her you had never been more sure about anything. That you would face the world if she were by your side. Your lips kept sealed, locking away your declarations, scared by the feelings of devotion.

"What's wrong with you today? Pietro's voice pulled you back to Earth as he continued to attack your team without mercy. "You're distracted."

"It's nothing," you answered, flashing back to your conversation with Wanda. You understood her logic for waiting; you did. However, it didn't stop you from hating the idea of keeping Pietro oblivious. You felt like a traitor, a fake friend, for keeping your relationship a secret from him.

"Is it a girl?" he asked out of the blue, and you jolted in his direction, nearly dropping your controller.

You paled. "Wha—why would you think that?" 

"A guess." He shrugged with a grin. "By the look of it, I hit the jackpot. You're having girl troubles, huh? Tell me about her."

"It's complicated." He rolled his eyes and huffed at the lack of information. She wants to keep it a secret for now."

"Are you okay with that?" You nodded slowly with uncertainty. "That's not reassuring," Pietro commented.

You dropped flat on the bed, staring at the ceiling and contemplating your next word. "I think she's scared of what could happen if things ended badly. I get it and am willing to wait." 

"Alright then, I won't pry. Just know I'm here for you if you want to tell me about her," Pietro said knowingly but then smiled wickedly. "Hey, as long as it's not my sister, you do you. You paled, mortified by his words, and Pietro burst out laughing. "We'd be like divorced parents having to share custody of you. Spending one week with her and one with me. Not to mention, she'd probably turn you into a nerd like her."

At the sound of his words, the heavy sensation settling on your chest lessened until it nearly disappeared. It was all a joke, you thought, relieved.

Pietro threw down his controller on the bed. "I'm tired of kicking your ass. Let's do something else."

"What do you have in mind?" you asked, following him out of his room and casting a spare glance at Wanda's vacant room—the girl on an outing with her friends.

Pietro responded with a smirk, causing a surge of concern to well up within you. You knew you were in for a crazy night.

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You won't lie; planning a date was probably the most complicated task you have ever done. Your lack of romantic experience left you spiraling for ideas. After much research, you decided to take Wanda to the fair in a neighboring town. Food, games, prizes, a kiss at the top of the Ferris wheel. The perfect plan.

Putting your plan into action was even easier by Pietro's absence from the Maximoff residence. The boy had left for Crystal's for the day.

As you parked in front of the residence, the younger Maximoff crossed the front door and entered your vision. The sight hit you like a punch in the gut, leaving you breathless and tongue-tied. You approached the girl, wonderstruck by her godly figure, intensified by the encompassing sunlight.

"You look beautiful," you whispered reverently, pulling her waist towards you and disregarding any onlookers.

Wanda flushed at your compliment, hiding her scarlet face in your neck and denying you the warming sight. The only indication of her embarrassment is a muffled "Shut up."

You chuckled, drawing away. "Are you ready?" She nodded, and you pulled her to your car, ready to commence the 40-minute journey.

The two of you stood still, hands tied, taking in the various stalls. Farther up ahead lay the mechanical rides, though you wanted to leave those for later as Wanda pulled you toward a shooting game. Knowing full well that most games were rigged, you followed Wanda like a puppy to the different game stalls. You won a few minor prizes on some games, while Wanda's were usually better. The girl teased you, gloating at her skill in the games, and you playfully rolled your eyes.

You rebounded playing skee ball, a game you loved at the arcade. You started by positioning yourself into a balanced stance, one foot in front of the other and slightly bending your knees. You pulled your arm back and swung from the shoulder, aiming for the 40-point pocket. You watched the ball roll with anticipation, cursing when it flew the mark falling into the 10-point slot. 

Wanda attentively watched as you repositioned yourself for the next throw, heart fluttering at how you cutely scrunched your eyebrows wholly concentrated. 

You tested your throw, trying to get a feel for the ball, and then repeated your actions with adjustments to the toss. This time, the ball landed precisely on the mark. By the end of your nine throws, you had garnered 370 points. You smirked at an impressed Wanda before turning to choose your prize: a stuffed teddy bear you needed to carry with both arms.

"Oh, how cute. I wonder if you'll sleep cuddled with it," Wanda teased lightheartedly. You hummed, getting closer to her, heart beating frantically at her cuteness.

 "Actually, it's a gift for you," you said, offering the bear to her. Wanda stood there at a loss for words, glancing between you and the teddy bear. She mindlessly accepted the bear, gasping for words. Just like she hadn't been gifted flowers, neither had she been given such a gift. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach, enchanted by your thoughtful gestures.

"I-I thank you!" she responded, hugging the bear to her chest.

"I hope you think of me when you cuddle it at night," you half-joked, internally wishing she did. Wanda turned red, and it only intensified when you gripped her chin, placing a chaste kiss on her lips.

You did give her time to react as you eagerly pulled her to the bumper cars. The air echoed with screams of delight as you chased after each other. It's a game of tag of a sort, except with small, electrically powered cars. By the end of your little game, Wanda again rubbed her victory in your face. She was completely unaware that you had intentionally allowed her to win, finding joy in how her eyes would crinkle with happiness every time she emerged victorious.

After riding the carousel and indulging in a few other thrilling rides, the two of you made your way to the food court, famished after all the exhilaration. You both settled down at a weathered wooden picnic table, the sun filtering through the leaves of the trees overhead. Between you lay two cheeseburgers with fries and your respective drinks, a Coke and a pink lemonade. You gazed longingly at Wanda's refreshing pink lemonade, wishing you had ordered one. 

Of course, Wanda noticed your stare and pushed her drink towards you, offering without saying a word. You hesitated, unsure whether to drink from the straw or remove the lid. 

Wanda rolled her eyes, tentatively poking your lips with the straw. "Oh, come on. Don't act like you haven't had your tongue shoved down my throat."

You flushed at her bluntness, which became more frequent the longer you hung out together. You saw less and less of that shy girl who would stumble with her words or flee in your presence. The developing intimacy revealed a new Wanda that made you fall deeper.

You squirmed under her burning gaze but drank. It wasn't intentional the sensual way you wrapped your lips around the straw, keeping eye contact with her. You swear it wasn't, yet you could feel the air change around you, filling with tension as Wanda's attention shifted to your lips. 

You leaned back, bringing the drink away from your lips with a soft pop. As you did, you ran your tongue over your lips, removing the lemonade remnants and intentionally provoking Wanda.

Wanda's stomach turned, heat creeping out through her body, warming her fingers and toes as desire overtook her body.

The world seemed to stop, and reality faded into the background. All that mattered was the girl in front. As her gaze shifted back and forth between your lips and eyes, you found yourself doing the same, caught in a moment of shared anticipation.

The screams of a young boy, trashing around in his mother's hold, cut through the stare down before you could lean over. You looked around, embarrassed, wanting to see if anyone had noticed, and were relieved to see that no one paid you any mind. If they had, you helplessly hoped they thought you were in an intense staring competition.

Feeling safe from prying eyes, you finally reveled in the embarrassment, cringing at the thought of kissing the girl while leaning over the wooden table. Wanda fidgeted with her hands, suddenly very interested in the chipped wooden table. As you looked back at her, you could tell she was thinking the same thing. But then she met your eyes, mortification evident in her viridescent eyes.

The palpable awkwardness of the situation slowly dissipated, replaced by a shared moment of pure hilarity, as the corner of your mouth twitched, causing both of you to burst into uncontrollable laughter. Wanda took a fry, hitting you in the middle of your forehead. 

You gasped, falsely offended, as you rubbed your forehead. "Oh, it's on Maximoff," you declared, hurling your fry toward her. Wanda ungracefully swayed to the side, narrowly avoiding the thrown object as it lodged in her hair.

She delicately picked at the piece of food, eyes wide and mouth slightly open in surprise. Wanda then tilted her head to the side in a way that made your stomach flutter and said, "Bring it, L/N."

On ensued a food fight that earned you a few dirty looks from bypassers. It only stopped when Wanda took a handful of fries, breaking the unspoken rule of only throwing one fry at a time. You raised your arms and yelled, "Truce!" You slowly lowered one hand, and Wanda jerked her arm in response, observing you. Yet you only took the white napkin and flung it side to side. "I surender."

Wanda brought her hand down, placed the food back on her plate, and turned her lips upward in victory. The remainder of the meal was filled with cheerful and easygoing conversation.

After, you both settled on strolling through the farm zoo, wanting to give your stomachs a break from rides. You'd rather avoid hurling your meal, a hard lesson learned after riding zero gravity minutes after stuffing yourself with elephant ears. It wasn't fun.

Hand in hand, you and Wanda trekked to the various pens containing goats, sheep, pigs, bunnies, chickens, and more. You watched as Wanda adorably fawned over the bunnies, clinging to your arm and pointing at a black and white one.

As the sun set, you made your final rounds to some stalls and rides, even riding the mechanical bull at Wanda's insistence. Let's just say it ended with Wanda hunched in laughter and some blackmail material stored on her phone.

You saved the Ferris wheel for last, knowing night would only make it that more romantic. It seemed your luck couldn't get better, as the Ferris wheel stopped just as you reached its peak, towering over everything and everyone. The scene was nothing short of perfection. The full moon hung low in the sky, casting its gentle glow over the tranquil forest in the distance—a mesmerizing and enchanting picture.

"It's so beautiful," Wanda chimed.

"Yeah," you agreed, looking at her. As the silvery moonlight cascaded over her delicate features, it accentuated her innate, captivating beauty, adding a touch of ethereal allure to her presence.

You didn't feel ashamed when Wanda turned and caught you staring. The tension from earlier returned with a brutal force, knocking the air out of your lungs. The two of you leaned in, air crackling with anticipation. Your lips met in a slow, passionate kiss as warmth rushed through your bodies.

As the kiss intensified, you gently traced your tongue over Wanda's parted lips, silently requesting permission to deepen the kiss. It wasn't until your lungs ached for air that you stopped, gasping to catch your breath as you rested your forehead against hers.

"Thank you for making today wonderful," Wanda whispered, still breathless.

You gently stroked her cheek with your thumb. "I'm glad you enjoyed it."

The anticipation and nerves leading up to the date had been overwhelming. But now, as the day unfolded smoothly, you can't help but marvel at how everything had fallen into place. All your nerves seemed absurd after you kissed the girl at the top of the Ferris wheel. "Honestly, I was spiraling over today. I had no idea how to woo you or plan a date," you confessed.

"How to woo me?" Wanda chuckled. "Well, you've done a wonderful job of wooing me, so don't worry. I've never had such a great date." 

Given that her previous date had been with that jerk, Jarvis, there was no doubt in your mind about it. Yet you still questioned, "Not with Jarvis?"

Wanda flashed a smile and rolled her eyes. "No, definitely not with Jarvis." she replied."

"Good," you whispered, your fingers gently tugging at her neck to draw her closer to you. As your lips met, the kiss was tender and brief, filled with warmth and affection.

After the kiss ended, Wanda leaned in and rested her head gently on your shoulder. Gazing out at the scenery, a look of contentment washed over her face.

As the two of you dismounted from the ride, you instinctively reached for each other's hands and couldn't help but giggle with joy. It felt like the rest of the world faded away at that moment, leaving just the two of you in your bubble of happiness. For a second, at least, because in the next, it was ripped away like candy from a child.

"Wanda? Y/N?" The moment's tranquility was abruptly shattered by the unexpected call of a voice, jolting you out of your reverie and forcing you back into reality.

Dread filled your body, and next to you, Wanda tensed, crushing your hand. Yet you didn't pull away, too stunned by the sight before you. There, as shell-shocked as you stood, Pietro and Crystal.

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Taglist: @alexawynters

[trying-harder-then-u]

Someone Unexpected

"Fort Stonepeak was a small town in the middle of the Appalachian Mountains. With a population of only a few thousand, most people made their livelihoods by serving the farmers that worked just outside the city boundary or as members of the lively tourism industry that flourished in the region due to its fresh air, majestic mountain peaks, and clear blue rivers. Maybe that's why I came here? I did need some space after my breakup, but it hasn't worked. All I've done is sit in this hotel under this dim light on a creaky bed and feel sad for myself. Jesus, I need to do something. Maybe I will go to the bar tonight, and then I can at least drink my problems away. So after a shower, I looked in the mirror, put a shirt on, and got going.

Walking into the bar, spots flashed before my eyes as the bright lights flashed. I hadn't been expecting them; it gave the bar much more of a rave atmosphere than I had expected, but when in Rome, trudging to the bar, I had to practically scream over the music just to get a whiskey. Looking around, I saw couples dancing. Great! I thought, Now I get to mope with a headache, but just as I thought that, a clink noise sounded next to me. Looking over, a gay, twunkish-looking farm boy sat next to me. "I hope you don't mind me sitting here; there are not many seats around." His chuckle filled me with a giddy feeling as he laughed. "No worries, I'm not waiting for anyone," I replied, putting my hand out for a handshake. He had a much firmer grip than I thought.

The next few days, I went to hang out with John and began to learn more about him—about his family, friends, and, most importantly, his sexuality. It was another night of meeting at the same bar when John finally dropped the bomb. "I know you are gay; I am too, so I was wondering if you wanted to..." John trailed off. I was shocked as all hell. I had had my fair share of exchanges with other guys, and sure, a lot of them wanted me badly, but none had ever been this blunt. "Sure," I said, winking, "I can give you a good time," and before I knew it, we were heading over to my small hotel.

Leading John back to my apartment, I was full of joy. There was a strut in my step as I led him, and I had to slow down to stop myself from rushing too quickly. Once we got to my room, I held the door open for him and followed him in. The door shut with a bang, and I saw his shoulders tightening. Before he turned to me, "We're going to the bedroom now," he told me. I was shocked. Just a minute ago, he had been following me and gleefully talking about the starry sky and how he couldn't wait to do the deed with me. Now here, he was acting like he was in charge. I was going to talk to him about that, but then I felt the will to fight him on it leave my body as he stared at me, and like a defeated puppy, I followed him to my own bedroom, where he got me to sit down. Looking at me, I could feel his eyes undressing me before he finally seemed to be focused on my face. "I know you want me, but I want to hear it from you," he said. Still in shock at the situation, I stayed quiet, but soon waves of pleasure began to radiate through me. I looked to see where they were coming from, and his hand was massaging my crotch. "What do you want?" he asked me, and as I moaned, I only managed to whisper "you." Smiling at me, John pulled off my shirt and pants and pulled me into a kiss. I could feel his tongue invade my mouth, and I knew this was my last chance to assert that I was in charge here, so I fought back, but it was futile as he continued to slowly pressure my pouch, and finally I submitted, and his tongue began to explore my mouth. This is when I felt the first change begin. I felt inside my pants that my boxers were changing, the fabric changing to be less coarse, perhaps nylon, and shrinking down until my goods were held in a pair of briefs. looking down at them. John grinned; he said, "You look good on me," and I could feel my cheeks go hot as I blushed.

He proceeded to push me down and start kissing what felt like every inch of my body. As he did, my muscles began to shrink and my broad shoulders narrowed, but I still had a muscular frame, just a swimmer build rather than the body I had worked for at the gym, and before long, John was pulling down my pants and staring at my 9-inch. I looked at him with begging eyes as he began to suck me off, wave after wave of pleasure as I neared closer and closer, and right before I came, he moved back to kissing me and finished off my transformation as he gave me a hand job. Ribbons of cum flew out, leaving me with a reduced size. Putting his fingers covered in my own product into my mouth, my neurons fired. My brain was rewired; I was a bottom through and through, and John was certainly my boyfriend, and every night we would make love. That was how it was.

a few months later, and I've finally moved in with him. Of course, I do all the cooking and cleaning at home while he works the farm. Every night, I get to enjoy his hot, sweaty body. I think I hear him coming now. I don't think I've ever been so happy as when I see him after a long day.

[chamomiletealeaf]

Based on a True Event

So a few months ago my family went to Busch Gardens and I wanted to see the penguins before they closed so my family and I went back in but our tickets wouldn't scan. We got the tickets from my dad since he was working there. The people were super rude and wouldn't let my mom in and told her to go all the way to the back of the line and it took us forever to get in.

But imagine this with Simon, and he makes it all better.

Disclaimer: I'm not trying to hate on customer service workers. I am a customer service worker myself, this is just my experience with the Busch Gardens people lol.

Warnings: none :) just a bunch of fluffiness and Simon being in love with you.

You convinced Simon to take you to an amusement park you've been dying to go to. When he finally said yes you were ecstatic and couldn't wait to have fun with him in one of your favorite places.

"Si come on! Hurry before the line fills up!" You pull him along, wanting so badly to get into the park.

"Alright alright I'm coming." Simon grumbles, but he can't help but smile at your giddiness.

"They have penguins here! Can we go there first? Please? I want to see them so bad they're so cute!" You beamed up at him in the line to get into the park.

"Of course love whatever you want." He says with a smile.

You two were next in line to have your tickets scanned by the workers who looked like they'd rather be anywhere but there.

Not wanting to upset them further, you quietly held your phone out to scan the ticket.

Beep

The scanner makes a chiming noise and a big red "X" comes up on the reader.

"Ticket's no good." The worker says emotionless, not even looking up at you.

"What?" You ask panicking, looking at Simon for help.

"Here try mine." Simon says, stepping in front of you to scan his ticket.

Beep

The scanner dings again, but this time it was a happier tone and a green checkmark shows up.

"You're good, have a great day sir. You miss are gonna have to go to the back of the line and try again or leave. NEXT!" The worker says, and you raise your eyebrows in shock.

"Wait so he can go in but I can't? Can't you try again? Please we've been waiting all day to be here." You plead with the worker, sadness filling your eyes at the thought of not being able to see the cute little penguins you've been dying to see swim and waddle around.

"Sorry miss, you can try buying another ticket for another day or you can leave. You're holding up the line." The worker says, scanning other people's tickets and not looking at you.

Your eyes start to fill with tears of frustration and sadness knowing that Simon was going on deployment soon and you don't know when else you would be able to do this with him again. You look up at Simon looking devastated and he can't take it.

That's when he steps in.

The worker senses his presence and looks up at him. Simon crosses his arms and looks down at him, intimidating the guy so much that he actually makes eye contact with you two for the first time.

"Listen mate, the missus here has been waiting ages to get in here, and I'm never one to leave my woman unsatisfied. So you're either gonna let her in with me, or I'm gonna have to find a way to get her in myself." Simon stares down at the smaller man, who is now showing a fearful expression instead of a bored and uninterested one upon seeing Simon's scars and tattoos let alone his towering size.

And without another word the worker opens the turnstile and rushes you two through.

"Have a nice day you two!" He says, as if he wasn't shitting his pants right now at Simon's threat.

"Yeah that's what I thought." Simon grumbles under his breath.

You jump with joy and kiss Simon's cheek.

"Yay! Thank you honey!" You chime. "Let's see the penguins!" You say, practically pulling Simon's arm off rushing him along.

"Ok sweetheart I'm coming." He laughs.

"That was really hot." You say, leaning into his arm.

"What was?" He asks with a smirk, wanting to hear you say it.

"Sticking up for me. You're hot when you're all big and scary." You say with a giggle.

"Well of course, like I said, I'm never one to leave my missus unsatisfied. In any way." He whispers into your ear with a smirk while he squeezes your waist and you blush at his innuendo.

Then you spot the penguins and you squeal with excitement.

"Simon look! the babies!"

You run up to the tank to admire the little penguins. They were African penguins. Small and cute.

"Oh Simon, look at their little waddles! How cute are they!" You coo at the penguins watching as they waddle and swim around in their tank.

"Funny little blokes aren't they." Simon says, but he's not looking at the penguins.

Simon is watching you.

Simon stands next to you and admires your joy and how much you glow when you're happy like this. It's something he lives for. It's why he risks his life out on the battlefield every deployment. So you can have a fulfilling life. Everything Simon does is for you, and he can sleep better at night knowing that even though he's murdered, even though he's done heinous things, you will always be the one good thing that keeps him from falling into the darkness.

As Simon gets lost in his thoughts and love for you, a penguin waddles it's way up to you behind the glass.

"Simon! baby get a picture! Look at this little sweetie!" You say, and he snaps out of his thoughts to pull his phone out to snap a picture of you and the penguin.

The penguin flaps his wings playfully and you lean down to it's level and turn your head, making a kissy face pretending to give the penguin a kiss on the head.

Simon takes the picture and immediately makes it his lock screen and home screen.

You walk up to him to see the photo and smile.

"It's perfect! He's the cutest, sweetest little baby isn't he?" You ask and Simon just nods and smiles, thinking that you're actually sweetest thing.

Then, a penguin waddles out with a feather pattern that looks like it's wearing an eye mask. The penguin was white with black splotches of feathers on his body, but it's head was black, with a white mask around the eyes.

You notice it, and you gasp.

"Simon! It's you!" You excitedly exclaim and tap his arm getting him to look.

"It's a Ghost penguin!" You say, and he laughs out loud at that.

"Oh baby c'mon you gotta take a picture with it. Please? For me? It'll be so cute!" You plead, and how can Simon resist your glittering eyes and the crinkle in your nose from your smile.

"Ok ok. Just one picture though." And he walks up to the tank to pose with the penguin and you snap a picture, immediately sending it to Johnny and making it your lockscreen and homescreen as well.

Simon comes back to your side and you show him the picture, which earns another laugh out of him.

"Thank you honey." You tell Simon.

"For what?" He asks.

"For doing this for me. For being the best boyfriend in the world. For showing me what real love is like." You say with a smile, and Simon looks down at you.

Simon isn't one for PDA, but there was something about you in this moment that he couldn't resist kissing you right there in front of the penguins and all those around the exhibit.

"You're welcome my love." Simon whispers and smiles against your forehead after breaking the kiss.

You two spent the rest of the day walking around the park, forcing Simon to go on rides with you, and occasionally passing the penguins again where Simon buys you a little stuffed penguin that you named "Ghost", after the penguin that looked like Simon with his mask in the exhibit.

And that night, you two fell asleep in each other's arms with little penguin Ghost between you, exhausted from the long day of walking and fun, knowing that tomorrow you would both awaken in the morning seeing the one thing you both live to see:

And that's each other.

[honeytama]

Take Me There

Nick Folio x Fem!Reader

A/N: Have been in such a Folio mood lately and could not stop thinking about this scenario. Enjoy!

Summary: Your boyfriend, Nick, is riding to Florida with his friends while you’re stuck at home. While you’re missing your sexy biker, maybe bringing up a fantasy to him while he’s alone will cheer you up?

Content and Warnings: Established relationship, smut 18+, switch Folio, masturbation, JOI (jerk off instructions)/phone sex, the helmet stays on…

Word Count: 3k

Tag List (for all works): @thisbicc

“Baby, call me whenever you need me,” Nick wraps an arm around your waist and presses a quick kiss to your cheek before stepping toward the door with his helmet in hand. “I promise I’ll answer wherever I am.”

“I will. I love you,” you say sweetly as he steps out of your shared place.

“I love you!” He yells, his voice muffling as he pulls the front door closed behind him.

It’s early, the sun not having come up yet, and you stand alone in your house with sleepy eyes and pajamas. Nick’s gone and you’re already missing him.

Heading back to bed, you splay out on both his and your sides soaking in the warmth he’s left behind and stuffing your nose in his pillow. The scent of his leftover hair product and shampoo makes you melt away.

Nick would be gone for a few days on a motorcycle trip with a couple of guys from his motorcycle club riding down to Florida. You’re used to him being away, but this time it feels different. You wanted so badly to ask him if you could tag along and make it a vacation for the two of you, however you knew how much he missed having his freedom. He’s constantly talking about the trips he wants to take with his buddies and as his girlfriend, you don’t have the heart to ever take him away from those; especially when he gets so giddy and talks so dreamily. 

Also, Nick’s promise to pick up the phone isn’t a new one, you’re constantly texting him and talking to him while he’s on tour or at festivals. You really can’t bear to go one day without hearing his voice.

—

Your phone buzzes while you relax on the couch that afternoon with a book. Pulling it from the cushion, you eagerly anticipate a message from him. Your face lights up at his name on your screen.

Folio ��: We’re at a gas station. Over halfway there, can’t wait to send you pics from the beach tomorrow.

Now knowing he’ll have some time to talk, you press the call button. He answers almost immediately.

“Hey, baby! I just filled up… Just waiting for the guys,” you can hear his toothy smile through the call. “How’s your day so far? Missing me?”

Nick has a system in his helmet that allows him to answer your call without taking it off. No one can hear the sounds coming from it, whether it’s music or voice calls from his friends on the road. However, if he’s too loud, the helmet can’t muffle his voice enough allowing everyone around him to hear what he’s saying. 

“It’s going well. I’m just reading on the couch waiting for the day you come home,” you giggle. “But, don’t worry about me, Nick, have fun, okay?”

“Okay, okay,” he sighs. “You’re on my mind, still. I hope you know that.”

“I do. I’m thinking about you, too,” your empty hand finds itself on your lower stomach. Lazy, yet sensual circles are traced on your skin over the thin material of your top. Nick is probably thinking innocently, but you can’t help but imagine how he looks in his riding gear. Flannel, leather vest, boots… “By the way, how are the leather pants I got you working out?”

He looks down at his legs as he sits on his bike, reminded of when you shared with him your intrigue over sports biker’s leather. You got him a pair of leather sports pants with knee pads telling him it was for his safety, but secretly, he knew it was because you wanted to see what he would like in them. 

He smirks before answering, “I like how they look, but my junk is being destroyed. I think it’s because it’s my first time wearing them. I’m gonna go into the gas station to change into jeans after you hang up.” He chuckles. 

You cross your legs, squeezing your thighs together for purchase. Why did he have to bring his junk to mind? Now, you’re really thinking about him.

“Well, maybe before you change,” you say slowly. “You could readjust yourself? Maybe it’ll help?”

Little do you know, he’s half-hard beneath the fabric of his pants just from the sweet sound of your voice, his cock straining against his zipper eager to be released.

Nick takes a peak over his shoulder, to the left and right, before grabbing his groin and massaging the velvety black leather hoping the movement will be enough to readjust his cock to the side of his thigh. 

“Fuck,” he hisses in your ear. “Baby, I can’t believe you have me touching myself in public.”

You hold the phone away from your face, giggling into your hand. Teasingly talking into your phone again, “Do you feel better, Folio?”

“Still hurts,” he groans into his microphone. “I bet you’re just imagining my hand wrapping around myself, huh?” He laughs softly.

“Mhm,” you hum in his ear. “Go change into your jeans, baby,” you coo. “Can’t have the new pants wrecking you before you get back to me.” 

You hear Nick say something under his breath, “Oh, my God.”

“You can try breaking the pants in more on your ride back,” you suggest.

“Are you teasing me because I left you behind, Y/N?” Nick asks curiously, you can hear a sly smile creeping behind his question.

“Nuh-uh,” you giggle. “Just having fun with you. I’ll call you later tonight when you’re finally at your hotel.”

“I’ll be expecting it,” he huffs, already exhausted with your little game. “I love you.”

“Love you, too,” you hang up and stuff your phone back into the cushion to return your book.

Nick will do whatever you ask him to in the bedroom. Anything you want, you get; whether it’s to have his hands around your throat and to spank you until you scream or to let you ride him until he’s a puddle of a man, whimpering with each grind of your hips.

He makes you feel like the only girl in the world, and you plan to show him just how special he is too.

—

Nick has settled into his hotel room alone. The plush, king-sized bed calls to him as he’s dressed down to deep gray cotton shorts, crew socks, and a Bad Omens merch tee. 

You’re also in bed having eaten dinner and winding down for the night in your pajamas. Propped up against your pillows, you text him eagerly, hoping he’s in the mood to play some more of your game.

You: Hey, baby. Did you make it safe? Are you settled in?

Folio ♡: Yeah, I’m in bed. Gonna go to sleep soon and then to the beach in the morning

Folio ♡: Still thinking about the little stunt you pulled earlier today

The message makes you squirm on your sheets. You want to indulge yourself and stuff your hand into your bottoms, but tonight is about him. 

You: Can you do something for me?

Folio ♡: Anything

You return his message with a sly smile.

You: Put your helmet on

Folio ♡: Y/N

You: Please!

You: And take your shirt off if you’re wearing one

You wait a few minutes before he texts back.

Folio ♡: 1 Attachment

He sends a photo of himself under the soft, yellow light of his bedside lamp leaning against the quilted headboard of his hotel bed. His matte black helmet adorns his head and even with the reflection of his phone and pristine hotel room in the tinted visor, you can see his dark eyes staring you down. 

You giddily bite your finger at the sight of cheeks slightly squished inside and neck tattoo peeking through the bottom. 

Folio ♡: For my little freak

You press the call button and he answers through his helmet after a couple of seconds.

“Nick?” You coo through your phone mic.

In bed, he tilts his head, leaning into your voice as if you’re there singing his name in his ear. He ignores how the speakers of his helmet warp your voice just a bit. It’s just you.

“Y/N,” he replies breathily. “What are you up to?”

“I’m just in bed—,” you start.

“No, baby, what are you up to? Why am I wearing my helmet?” His tone urges you to confess assuming your plans are nefarious.

Wiggling your feet on the soft sheets, you smile against the phone pressed to your cheek. “Oh, I just think you look so good in it,” you spit out quickly. “No other reason… By the way, are you comfortable?” 

“I knew it!” His voice comes through your ear excitedly. “I knew you had a thing for my riding gear... And, yes, I’m comfortable?” His tone changes back to inquisitorial.

“Good.” Time to begin, you think. “I should have told you sooner, but yeah, I like the idea of you in your riding gear. I have a fantasy I want to tell you about.”

“I already assumed after you begged me to wear the leather pants for this trip and me in my gear on my last trip is your lock screen…,” he crosses his arms over his chest, listening to you intently. “Go ahead and tell me. What’s going on in the freaky little head of yours?”

“So you know what it does to me, then, huh?” You sigh softly. “Imagine it with me,” you coo. “We’re on the road together. Just you and me on your back as we ride through the middle of nowhere. I have my arms wrapped around your waist and maybe I get bored because we’ve been riding for so long, so my hands start inching lower, down your stomach, towards your groin—,”

“You’re gonna make us crash,” he interrupts you, chuckling through your speaker. 

You roll your eyes. “Patience, baby, it’s called a fantasy for a reason,” you smile and continue. “Your cock hardens as I fondle you over your jeans as we’re going 80mph alone down a country road. Your hands caress my thighs at your side and your bulge presses against your leather seat, but it just isn’t enough to get you off. You can’t keep riding with me safely while you’re turned on and distracted, right?”

“No, I can’t,” Nick sighs dreamily before clearing his throat. “How do you come up with things like this?” His voice is soft now as he submits to your fantasy.

“I like daydreaming about things I want you to do to me. Are you getting hard, baby?” You ask, tilting your head teasingly as if he can see you.

“Yeah,” Nick doesn’t even realize that his breathing has got heavy; his heart rate speeding up at the crude thoughts you're inserting into his mind.

“Tell me how hard you are,” you push him. Your empty hand soothingly brushes over the tops of your thighs anticipating his response.

“Hard as a rock,” he groans. “Keep going, baby.” Nick curls his toes anxiously wanting to pull his shorts past his hips, but he suspects you’ll be the one to let know when he’s allowed to.

“Good. You pull over to the side of the road and ask me to get on my knees in the dirt—,” 

“What are you wearing while on our ride?” Nick's hands roam over his chest and lower stomach searching for something to do before he can fuck his fist.

“Whatever you want me to wear, baby,” you coo. A relishing grin grows on your face as he feeds his own imagination. You fidget with the hem of your pajamas happily.

His breath catches as if he’s thinking through his favorite pieces of your wardrobe. He hums satisfyingly before answering, “You’re wearing some of those see-through tights and a little, black leather skirt.”

“Mhm,” you agree with his addition to your story. “I’m on my knees unzipping your jeans. I’m pulling them and the band of your underwear down just enough for me to hold your hard cock in my hand,” you pause. “Do you want to touch yourself?”

“Please,” he begs into your ear. “Tell me what to do.”

“Glide your hands down your stomach until you reach your waistband. I want you to feel how soft you are to me,” you instruct. “Then, pull your shorts down your thighs, okay? Don’t put a hand on yourself just yet.”

Nick follows your instructions to a tee. Guiding his fingers over his bare, tattooed stomach, he brushes his palm lightly over the hardened print in his shorts before pulling them down his toned thighs. 

“Lift your helmet and spit into your hand, baby,” you tell him and he follows suit.

Pulling up the bottom of his helmet, you hear him spit into his palm before placing it back on. 

“Imagine me taking you into my mouth,” you say in a low tone. “Slowly, wrap your fingers around your tip.”

Nick brings his forefinger and thumb over his tip gently pushing the two down slowly over his cock while imagining your soft, plush lips taking him in. He sighs in contentment at his first real touch of himself all day since you taunted him at the gas station that afternoon. 

“Do you want me to take you all into my mouth? I’ll let you fuck it,” you talk sweetly into your phone. 

Your words seem to flip a switch in his demeanor. “If I had you on your knees, baby, then there’s no way we’re getting home without me grabbing the back of your head and thrusting my hips into your face,” he’s hissing into your ear rabidly now.

“Do it, Animal,” you taunt him.

“You little—,” he scoffs at your use of his club nickname. Nick eagerly wraps his hand around his shaft, coating himself in his fluids imagining it’s the deep wetness of your mouth around him. 

“I wish I could see how much pre-cum you’ve leaked. Love the way it beads out of you, baby. It tastes so sweet too. My favorite part about being on my knees for you,” you sing into his helmet.

Nick rolls his thumb over himself gathering the clear, dripping liquid from his tip, and mixes it with his saliva. His eyes roll back into his skull as he strokes himself quickly.

“Are you gagging on my cock, Y/N?” He asks, still stuck in the fantasy you’ve described for him. “Need your spit dripping down your chin for me. Need to see your pretty eyes filled with tears.”

“Yes,” you melt to his words and clench your thighs together. He wouldn’t mind if you brought your hand down your pajama bottoms, too, right? You set the call to speaker and place it next to you before beginning to rub satiating circles over your clothed clit imagining him pleasuring himself alone. “Keep going.”

He grunts through the speakerphone. “So close, gonna cum in your mouth,” he announces. “Swallow it.”

You hum slyly at his words, “Don’t you want to cum in my pussy?”

“Fuck, yes,” he moans while slowing his hand, edging himself off his orgasm.

“You pull my lips off of your cock and ask me to stand. You're such a sweetie for rubbing the dirt off my knees,” you giggle.

“You’re welcome,” he chokes out with a laugh. “Then what?”

“Then, you’re not so sweet. You push my hips first into the seat of your bike, folding me over it until my pussy is right at the height you like,” you describe.

“Gonna rip your tights open around your cunt and pull your skirt up over your hips,” he asserts, continuing the fantasy for you. “I’ve always wanted to fuck you over the side of my bike.”

“You’re doing so good, Nick,” you praise. “Now, slide in and fuck me.” 

His gruff moans come through your phone disgustingly as he thrusts his hips into his curled fist. You’re glad you and him don’t live in an apartment or else your neighbors would hear the filthy things spewing from his lips. 

“Take my cock. Take it all.”

“Feels so good. Love you wrapped around me.”

“Your pussy was made for me.”

“Do you want to cum, Animal?” You ask him sultrily.

“Yes, fuck, yes, please,” he whines. “Gonna coat your insides.”

“Cum for me, then,” you instruct.

“Oh, shit,” he moans loudly and bucks his hips into his slick fist as he comes undone. Ropes of his cum coat his stomach until he's spent and the rest spills over the thumb wrapped around his tip. Your name continuously falls off his lips in different tones: dreamily and roughly.

As he comes down, he shakily breathes through your speaker and his breaths gradually turn into soft laughter in disbelief at the experience you’ve put him through. “That was amazing. Did you get off, too?” He asks hopefully. 

“Thank you for entertaining me,” you smile while picking the phone back up to your ear. “I was touching myself a bit,” you admit to him. “But, I’m going to use my toys once you nod off to sleep.”

“Now, that’s payback for me leaving you behind,” he scoffs with a laugh. “You have no idea the things I’m gonna do to you when I get back.”

“Can’t wait for it,” you say slyly as your fingers brush over the wet spot you’ve made through the material of your pajamas. 

“I’m never leaving you at home again.”

[theidiotwhowritesthings]

TAKE CARE OF YOU [4]

Sugar Daddy!Joel Miller x Female!Reader

Overall Warnings: slow burn, angst/comfort, power imbalance, age gap, possessive tendencies, eventual smut, #daddyissues, independent reader learns to let go and relax, emotionally constipated Joel Miller learns to be vulnerable; (more specific warnings to be added to individual chapters if necessary)

Chapter Word Count: 2,515

Summary: You spent your entire adult life supporting yourself and barely getting by. It’s why a life of ease offered to you by a mysterious stranger sounded so foreign and unbelievable. Joel Miller, dressed in flannels that had seen better days, didn’t look like the kind who could promise you the world on a plate, but he seemed desperate to help out. All he asks is that you let him take care of you. That wouldn’t be so hard. Would it?

[a/n: a little on the shorter side for my usual stuff, but I needed to end this one here for future chapter pacing reasons lol. thanks for everyone who has shown sugar daddy joel love😘]

04: THAT'S MORE LIKE IT, SUGAR

"despite knowing they won't be here for long they still choose to live their brightest lives." -sunflowers

On Wednesday morning, you woke up late. At first, you had jumped up in a panic, seeing the clock read nearly 11 AM, but it dawned on you that you had traded today’s shift to work on Thursday instead. You slumped back into bed and closed your eyes. You had stayed up late last night talking to Joel just as you had Sunday and Monday night. It was becoming a habit you were more than happy to continue. A small smile drifted to your face at the thought that you’d get to actually see him tonight rather than just talk to him through a phone. 

With that excitement came a ball of anxiety. You’d get to see Joel tonight which meant he’d get to see you. It was the main reason why you had traded shifts to get today off because you needed all the time possible to get ready. Was that excessive? Absolutely. Were you overthinking it? Probably. Was that going to stop you? Nope.

You rolled over in bed and blindly felt around your nightstand until you grasped your phone. There were a few missed texts, but the first one came from Joel. ‘Enjoy your morning off, sugar. Check your front door when you wake up.’ Your eyebrows furrowed curiously. Front door? You rolled out of bed, saving the texts from Nima and Henry for later and padded out of your bedroom. For the first time in a long time, you felt giddy with excitement and the joy bubbling up into your chest only grew more immense when you opened your door. Resting on top of your welcome mat was a gorgeous glass vase filled to the brim with the most vibrant flowers you had ever seen. 

“Holy shit.” You gasped and carefully picked the vase up to bring it inside. You set it down on your kitchen counter to admire. The bouquet was a collection of bright sunflowers, beautiful red roses, and speckled throughout with some baby breath. There was a card hanging from the vase that you snatched up to read. You read it aloud, “Can’t wait to see you tonight, sunshine.”

As soon as the nickname, playing off the glowing sunflowers, left your lips it was followed by an actual squeal as you bounced in place. Your hands drifted up to rest on your warm cheeks as you gazed at the lovely flowers in admiration. Holy shit. Holy shit. In all your years of life, nobody had ever gifted you with something so adorably romantic. Your ex had picked you up a bouquet a time or two in the past but they usually came after a big fight. Never just as a gift for the sake of giving a gift.

“Oh my God.” You breathed and leaned in to smell the flowers, still beaming, “Oh my God.”

You needed to thank him. You grabbed your phone to snap a picture of it, but an idea occurred and you flipped your phone’s camera to face you. You hugged the vase toward your chest so half your face was hidden in the mess of flowers. It felt a little weird to send him a selfie, you weren’t quite that bold yet, but this seemed like a happy medium. You retook it three times before you were happy with it and then sent the text to Joel.

‘Thank you! I love my flowers!!’

You shifted the vase in a position where you’d be able to see it from nearly every angle in your small apartment then drifted back to your bedroom to get ready for the day. The text from Henry was just asking where a few supplies were, and the text from Nima was one asking what you planned to wear tonight. A very good question. You had a few cute dresses, but you weren’t sure they were ‘sugar baby entertaining her sugar daddy’ level of cute. In fact, thinking back to Rosalind, they most definitely were not.

While in the middle of texting Nima that you needed some kind of help, a reply from Joel came through and as if a switch flipped in your brain that same silly, stupid smile filled your features once more. ‘Glad they got there in one piece.’ Followed by, ‘Cute picture. The flowers are in the way of a real pretty sight though, sugar’.

The sound that left your mouth was hardly human. This charming motherfucker. Joel tried to say you were going to be the death of him? You were one smooth move away from spontaneously combusting. A thought occurred to you. How was this man single? Joel was without a doubt one of the most handsome men you have ever met. He was kind and caring. He was funny and smart. Obviously had a good business sense looking at his company and was still grounded and humble despite all that success. Add to all of that his charm and that intoxicating voice and accent? It was baffling that this man hadn’t swept some other lucky woman off her feet. In fact, the more you thought about it the more confusing it became. If he wanted any kind of company all he’d have to do was shoot a stranger a smile and they’d fall to his feet without a doubt, but he specifically went the ‘sugar daddy’ path. 

The two of you hadn’t discussed romantic histories at all. You didn’t ask because you didn’t want to cross a line and if he offered you his history you’d feel obliged to offer him yours. The bubble of playful, flirty banter and long casual conversations did not need to be popped by reality. 

‘Hey, I know you said you wanted it to be a surprise, but can I get a hint about tonight? For dress code purposes?’

‘Call Riley when you’re ready. He’ll take you to a store where you can get something.’

‘I was going to check my closet first.’

You were in the process of sending a follow up text about your closet when the phone went dark as Joel began to call. A chuckle left your lips and answered in a nonchalant, casual voice. “Oh, hey there.”

“Sugar, you’re killin’ me.”

“What ever do you mean, Joel?” You questioned innocently.

“You’re gonna get dressed then call Riley so he can drive you to the boutique.” Joel replied in a firm voice. “The girls at the front desk spoke highly of the place.” You were going to quickly get addicted to giving Joel a hard time if it meant you got to hear him boss you around so sternly. “And I better get a notification through my bank that you used the card.”

Your eyes widened, “Wait, you get notifications when I use it?”

“Yeah, and you ain’t using it hardly enough.”

“I bought lunch with it yesterday!” You argued. “And coffee the day before.”

Joel chuckled, exasperated, “Those are necessities.” You had to resist the urge to laugh that Joel considered coffee a necessity of life rather than a comfort. “The point of the card is to splurge.”

“Right.” You mumbled and twisted in place where you stood. “That’s not a strong suit of mine.”

 “I know, darlin’.” Joel replied. “Where better to start than to get somethin’ that’ll make you feel pretty tonight.” 

It was endearing that Joel made the clarification that he wanted you to buy an item that would make you feel more confident about yourself. As if you were already pretty, but just needed something to remind you of that fact. Jesus, again, how was he still single? You hummed, “Okay. I’ll see what I can do about putting a dent in your bank account this afternoon.”

“You say it jokingly, but that’s exactly what I want.”

“Keep this attitude up and you’re gonna turn me into a spoiled brat.”

“That’s the goal, sugar.” Joel’s deep voice rumbled with amusement and you sucked in a sharp breath at the sound. 

You cleared your throat. “You, uh, you’re going to regret saying that when I bankrupt you.”

“Oh, I’d love to see you try.”

Joel had a voice like warm honey. The southern drawl and deep, hoarse quality of it was soothing to your soul. The sound of a different voice could be heard in the background and Joel grumbled in annoyance before wishing you a farewell. You continued to smile to yourself before shaking your head and beginning to get ready. You shot Riley a text saying you’d be ready to go in fifteen minutes or so. An idea popped into your head and you hesitated only a second before texting Joel.

‘Pick a color for my dress tonight.’

‘Blue, sugar. Let’s go with blue.’

Riley dropped you off outside a boutique was somehow adorable and elegant all at the same time. Two words that you typically didn’t string together, and yet here you were. The entire street was lined with the LA style stores and boutiques that you would never look twice at. As you stood outside of the one Joel had sent you to, you couldn’t help but wince. Oh God, what if you were about to have yourself a pretty woman moment where the employees send you packing.

You glanced down at your simple outfit of a blouse and jeans then wince again. You dressed in something simple since you were going to be changing in and out of different clothes, but now you were wondering if you should’ve scourged up the fanciest outfit in your closet. With a steadying breath, you pushed into the shop and braced for impact.

Piano music drifted through the shop, and the floor was covered in glass and marble stands. Oh, boy. This was the kind of place where a single article of clothing would end up costing more than your rent. The urge to spin around and leave rose up, but before you could bail a woman with a broad smile drifted toward you. She was gorgeous. Her dark skin not showing a singular flaw and her thick hair surrounding her head like a cloud of perfect curls. She looked like she stepped right out of a fashion magazine.

“Welcome!” She greeted. Your eyes widened when your name left her lips. “My name is Kiera. Mr. Miller called us earlier and told us to expect you. Would you like to come with me to the private stage?”

“Private…stage?” You repeated.

Kiera nodded and motioned for you to follow her. She led you to the back room where there was a singular changing room along with an actual stage surrounded by a panel of mirrors. A couch also sat in the middle of the room where someone could sit and wait. It was too bad Nima was at work right now. She’d be the perfect person for this kind of thing.

“So, tell me about some styles or colors you like and I can bring you items to choose from.”

Nervously, you began to ramble about the kind of dresses you typically wore and styles you loved. As Kiera began to walk away you called out. “Oh, and can they all be in shades of blue? Please?”

For the next hour, you worked with Kiera to find a dress that would work. It had actually been a lot of fun. Kiera had a kind and calming energy that settled any nerves you had about shopping in such a high end boutique and she truly had an eye for fashion. The woman knew what she was doing. She had helped you settle on a navy cocktail dress made of a satin material that accentuated the shape of your body. You had never felt as empowered as you did right now in this dress. 

“What size shoe do you wear?” Kiera asked as you stepped back out of the changing room in your normal clothes. Dress held carefully in your arms. 

“Shoes?”

“Of course.” Kiera chuckled. “I have the perfect pair for this ensemble.” You gave her the answer and she began to walk away, calling over her shoulder. “I’ll bring you a collection of jewelry to choose from as well!”

Shoes and jewelry? This was one of those shops where none of the items seemed to have a price tag. Never a good sign. Adding accessories to that could only steepen an already steep cost. Granted, Joel did say he wanted you to hurt his bank account. It just still felt…wrong. Hanging out with Joel was no problem, you enjoyed this deal you had with him, but the accepting money part was hard for you to grasp. You loved the idea of it, but when game time came around you froze up.

“I brought a few options in gold and silver that would go well.” Kiera came back with a cushioned board where multiple necklaces, bracelets, and earrings rested. She also brought the pair of shoes she had been telling you about.

“Thanks.” You chewed on your lower lip while pursuing. You pointed to a pair of earrings. “Um, how much are these?” 

Kiera chuckled. “Sorry. Mr. Miller was adamant that I not tell you the price of anything.”

“Of course, he did.” You muttered.

It didn’t take long to pick a few pieces you liked⏤ forcing yourself to ignore the nagging of wondering about prices. Kiera led you to the front and you chatted with her about the new puppy that she had just adopted and was crazy about. As she began to ring up the items, you stared at the keypad where numbers began to appear. The number behind the dollar sign hit 5,893 and you felt your jaw drop to the floor. Holy shit. That was literally two months rent for you. 

Kiera held her hand out and you slowly pulled out the credit card Joel had gifted you. She picked it out from between your fingers with a wide smile and you offered a sheepish smile in return. 

“You said this is for your date tonight, right?” Kiera asked. You took back the credit card and signed the receipt she slid over to you.

She was packing your items into a few bags. “Uh,” You nodded, “Yes. It is.”

Calling tonight a date was easier than calling it a meeting with your sugar daddy. Was there an official name for these kinds of things? Were they called dates? God, you were overthinking this again. Kiera handed the bags over with a chuckle. “Well, I hope you and Mr. Miller have a wonderful time. Please come back anytime!”

“Thank you for everything, Kiera.” You replied. 

She called out for you to come back soon, and you stepped back out into the hot LA air. The phone in your back pocket buzzed. You pulled it out, needing to call Riley anyways, but saw on the screen that Joel had texted you. He sent you a screenshot of the notification his bank had sent him with the purchase you just made. The message under that read, ‘Now, that’s more like it, sugar.’

taglist:

@weddingfairy @bfences @fairntonorth @jasminedragon @biwitchy @huffle-punk @shelbyteller @anoverwhelmingdin @aheadfullofsteverogers @stagerightlauren @basicoccult @rinnfey @boofy1998 @farintonorth @thepascalofus @amatis-gray @casa-boiardi @northernbluess @jettia @sapphicsoie @spidey-3 @camiali25 @hrtsforpascal @gingersince97 @sentients17 @bigboiseason123 @lunxramour @ktheunready @heyheyheygaypay @keepingupwiththeskywalkers @adoringanakin @come-hell-or-eldren-fire @cherriebat

[previous][next]

✨J.M. Masterlist✨

[salty-croissants]

Reader who performs in musicals x Bullfrog, Rayman and Ramon (all separate) please? Thank you! Have a good day/evening/night!

Thank you for the request ! 

This one was really neat and fun to write :D

Hope this turned out okay !

Details : use of gender neutral reader ;

established relationships ; 

no warnings needed 

Bullfrog 💚

When you first told him that you were a musical performer , Bullfrog was absolutely amazed by it … no matter what role you actually play , for him it’s like you’re the most talented person in the whole world . 

< Oh my dear , c'est incroyable ! I can’t wait to get to see you perform one day ! >

< Aw , thanks love , but are you sure that wouldn’t be dangerous for you ? You know , with your job and many people around someone could recognize you and … I wouldn’t want you to get hurt because of me … > 

< I’m going to be careful don’t you worry , I’ll do anything I can to be there : it’s not just any musical if you’re in it mon amour ~ > 

Yeah , Bullfrog really meant what he said : 

you can often spot him hidden somewhere in the room when you’re on stage , staring at you with those loving eyes that never fail to make you blush …

He’s just so cute , and the fact that he would go to such lengths just to be there to support you makes you all giddy inside … as well as a bit worried for his safety , but you try your best not to think about it too much .

When the performance is done and you get to go backstage to your private room to take a moment to breathe and relax , you already know that you only need to count to three before you hear a knock on the door and find a very enthusiastic Bullfrog on the other side …

< Thank you for coming , sweetheart ! So … what did you think ? > 

< I think you did wonderfully , y/n : I couldn’t keep my eyes off of you during your song , c'était si beau ! >

< Really ? I was honestly afraid I didn’t hit some of the high notes right … god , you wouldn’t believe how anxious that made me the second the song ended , and plus - >

Bullfrog can’t help but smile as he listens to you talk , holding your hand while walking back home …

You’re just so passionate , it’s something that makes you even more beautiful in his eyes if that’s even possible . 

Your songs often get stuck in his head , so it’s not rare to hear Bullfrog humming them to himself while showering you with affection when you’re together , but sometimes also during missions :

it helps him to remain calm , reminding himself that he has you by his side and that he has to stay alive to get back to you …

Bullfrog’s life really wouldn’t be the same without you in it . 

Rayman 🧡

One of Rayman’s favorite things to do is just sit and listen to you preparing for your current musical’s role , closing his eyes and focusing on your beautiful voice …

You’re always happy to have him there , especially since if you get easily self conscious about something his help will definitely help .

< Man … this sucks , it’s been days and I still can’t get that part right … the performance is ruined , how am I going to - > 

< Hey , hey … slow down y/n , take a deep breath …

There’s plenty of time before the performance , you just gotta keep trying and most importantly not push yourself too hard . > 

< *sigh* … yeah , you’re right … thanks Ray , sorry about that . >

< You don’t need to apologize honey … here , how about we take a break ? 

You’ve been working on it for hours now , I think you’ve earned it . > 

Even tough the Directors are constantly monitoring him , you can bet that Rayman will do everything he can to be there the day of the performance , and whenever you see him cheering for you among the crowd it always fills you with joy … 

He’s just so sweet , you can’t help but love him even more in those occasions ://) 

Rayman actually has lots of recordings of you singing , that way he can listen to them whenever you’re away and he misses you … 

Oh , and you can be sure that he will gush about you to literally everyone , because they all need to know just how wonderful and talented you are . 

< Ahh , you should’ve seen it … 

The way their eyes were shining while singing on that stage was simply magical !

Isn’t my y/n just amazing ? > 

< Mhm … 

Mister Rayman , can I leave now ? It’s been one whole hour … I’m just a janitor , remember ? > 

Since he does have quite a nice singing voice himself , you and Rayman definitely love to sing duets together , sometimes even dancing in the middle of the living room while the sun sets outside the lounge …

It’s a beautiful , precious moment for the both of you , ones that you will carry in your hearts forever .

Ramon 🖤

Okay , so now that he murdered the Directors and officially became wanted by Eden , Ramon knows that it’s not safe for him to show himself in public anymore … 

However , since you still need to perform in your musicals he can’t help but feel very torn about the whole situation , especially since he’s way more protective of you after all that’s happened . 

< I’m telling you sweetie , I’m going to be just fine ! It’s only a few hours … > 

< But I have to … I need to make sure nobody hurts you . > 

< Ram , I won’t have you risking your life to watch over me . We’ve talked about this . > 

< I can’t lose you , y/n … > 

< You won’t … I promise . 

I’ll be back before you even notice . > 

Remember those recordings of your performances he made when he was still regarded as the Voice of Eden ? 

Well , Ramon definitely listens to them a lot more now to try and keep his head distracted from thinking about what dangers could take you away from him when you’re gone .

It’s not a rare occurrence for you to arrive home and find Ramon asleep with one of the recordings playing in the background , and it’s during those moments that you fully realize that you really are the only thing keeping him together .

Whenever he happens to have a nightmare ( let me tell you , it happens often … this poor man is just so scarred by what he saw and what he did ) , Ramon is really going to appreciate it if you decide to sing him to sleep :

he just holds you tight , all the tension in his body finally leaving him thanks to your voice and your gentle touch caressing his hair …

< Mmm … y/n … > 

< I’m here , darling … I’m right here … >

< I love you so much , y/n … > 

< I love you too Ramon … there , just close your eyes , you should really try to sleep some more . > 

< Mmkay … > 

Sometimes when you’re having a bit of a rough day , Ramon is going surprise you by suddenly hold your hands and start slow dancing with you , singing your favorite duet … 

It’s one of the only moments in which all of his troubles seem so , so far away , leaving just you and him in the comfort of your home , being happy in a place were no one can hurt either of you … not Eden , nor anybody else . 

[yaut-jaknowit]

Switching Roles

Pairings: Vic'tao (Male Yautja) x AFAB!Reader

Warnings: Smut, oral sex (m), praise kink, rope bondage, rope play, dom reader, use of cock ring.

Word Count: 3535

Summary: After last time, you wanted to give ropes another try with at least one of your Yautjas. Vic'tao is the victim this time. This is one of the few times he lets you dominate him, you had to take the chance and run with it.

Author Note: I decided to switch the roles. Ah, I'm so funny. Anyhow, hope you enjoy getting a Yautja to beg and whimper.

P.S. Also, those interested in 'The Monarch'. I am working on it, I promise. I'm just trying to figure the best route to go!

Ao3

Masterlist

After last time, you’ve learn what to do and not to when it came to ropes and Yautjas. Those last ones you’ve used were ripped as if they were cotton, left to be shreds on the floor. Vic’tao disregarded them so easily and had you pinned the moment his patience snapped.

A lesson had been learned.

Countless hours of research and testing, you finally believed you had gotten your hands on a rope they couldn’t destroy while it held comfort. Those two points were what mattered when it came to tying your lovely hunters and doing whatever you wanted with them. Comfort and durability.

The rope was soft and glided across your skin without causing any pain or burns. Perfect. If it didn’t hurt your fragile skin, you knew it wouldn’t them either. Yet, when it came to keeping either of them tied up without fraying or snapping. That was a whole different situation. That was something you couldn’t test on yourself. Instead, you had decided to have Uihoy try his damn hardest, nails, claws, and all to break it.

It held up without wear or tear. You were giddy when leaving his workspace. A newfound joy blazed your heart with life. Now, it was ready to be used on Vic’tao and Uihoy when the time came.

That opportunity came. Sooner rather than later.

Vic’tao was reluctant to allow you to tie him once more with rope. Last time you had, he simply tore them apart and had his way with you. Well, until Uie had interrupted him. The damn elder didn’t let him come that night or touch you to possibly relieve his frustrations.

When the fabric slide across his scales though, Vic immediately noticed the difference. This wasn’t the same one as before. As he knelt before you, barely shorter than your standing form, he eyed you with suspicion. You noticed and patted the top of his head like a pet. “It’s going to be okay, love. You remember your signals?” you asked and stopped what you’re doing. He was your main focus right now.

This sort of deal was different compared to what he’s used to. Always the dominate one. He took command over you and Uihoy. He wasn’t always a nice dom though. That’s way you had to keep a watchful eye and ear out for him. You had to read his body language encase he didn’t want to continue. Despite being a deadly creature, you knew they had soft hearts that you loved to care for.

The Yautja nodded his head, tresses swaying with the movement. “Good boy. Remember, if you don’t like something, tell me. I will never be mad at you, alright?” you stated firmly and pulled the strand of rope in hand. His body rocked forward at the movement. Vic nodded again. This time, you shook your head at him. “Words, baby, words. I need to hear you.”

If his species could visbly blush, the skin around his mandibles would be flushed neon green. Vic felt vulnerable in this position. At the same time, he knew he trusted you fully and swallowed the lump in his throat. “Yes, I will tell you. Promise.” You purred at his statement with a glowing smirk. He felt his cock push at his closed sheath, growing with the blood rushing.

A gentle kiss was place between his brows. Vic chirped. Then, you returned to your mission of binding him to your will. He looked so gorgeous like this. It filled you with a power that you loved to taste and feel flowing through your veins. Just like last time. Yet, he wasn’t going to escape this time. Not again. Not on your watch.

You pull a familiar box to your side and dug through it. With a raised thigh, you were able to keep the contents hidden from sight. Vic’tao was strict about not using a blind fold on him. His sight was something he needed, and you respected that.

The corners of your mouth was pulled high as you glanced at the giant out of the side of your eye. Said alien tilted his head and clicked at with questions. “You’ll see soon enough,” you responded and carefully moved closer to him. The items in hand were held behind your back. “Now, I need you to be really good for me. Think you can do that?” It was all teasing him, testing him due to the last time something similar happened. Uihoy made him learn you were in control. You were seeing if that still sticks, if he remembers who’s the boss.

Vic’tao groaned from deep in his chest and bowed his head. His skin was set ablaze, fire running along the scales that covered him. Yet, you didn’t move or touch him. You needed him to answer. A ability he didn’t know if he had that moment.

From the depths of his brain, he mauled over his thoughts before whining. He lifted his head to look at you with raised brows. Like a puppy dog begging for a piece of bacon. You cooed and cupped one of his lower mandibles. “I know sweet boy. But I need you to say that you’ll be good, okay?” you said, voice honeyed and soft in the air. He keened and strained his bindings.

They didn’t fray or make a sound. You smirked widely.

He released a huff of warm air, body relaxing. “I’ll be good,” he grumbled, eyes drifting back to the floor. You couldn’t help the echo of a giggle in the room.

Then, your hands touched him where he needed you the most. The softness of your palms and delicacy of your fingertips had him purring up a needy storm. Until he felt something wet and cool touch his tip. Immediately his eyes he didn’t know were closed shot up to find a silicone ring he’s seen before. You roll it down the length of his cock, over the pulsing knot at his base, to sit snug around the hilt. His body was trembling with buzzing energy. An energy that needed to be used before he burst from these blasted ropes and take you. He purred thicker at the thought and watched you.

“Pauk me,” he groaned and jerked his hips up into your hands. You released your hold on him and stared down at the cock ring nestled perfectly. The vibrator was a nice touch but not one you were going to use on him this time. No, a heavier, high powered one was better than that one.

You twisted your torso and reached back into your box of goodies. A soft pink vibrator was pulled out into the light of day. Vic’tao paused, eyes zeroing in on the newly shown device. Countless times, he’s seen it in action on you.

Never on him.

There was a curious gnat that buzzed in the back of his mind. It poked and prodded with a need to know. A remainder of his youngblood self. He’s felt the one attached to that blasted ring before. Tortured and edged to the brink. And that one was small. It had made little noise, produced little energy in the air. This one. He’s heard before. Thrice the power than the other one.

Trickles of uneasy dribbled into his veins as he eyed the toy. You set it down next to you and rested your hands on his lower mandibles. With a soft tug, you were able to lift his head up to meet his gorgeous striking eyes once more. “Do you want me to touch you some more?” you tease and let a hand slide down to his naked throat. You feel him swallow thickly, Adam’s apple bobbing against your palm.

His spilt tongue darted out to taste the tense air. Almost, his eyes rolled into his head as he scented your arousal. The sight something you read and lightly tapped him. He chuffed at the distraction and strained at the ropes once more. They didn’t give once. He growled and tried to shuffle closer to you.

The peaceful hold on his throat turned threatening. Your nails bit into his flesh, dull but held a promise that had his blood singing. Instinctively, his body froze at the silent command. It was you who was in charge. You made that clear. “Stay,” you ordered and squeezed to further set in stone what the situation was.

Despite his dominate personality, his cock jumped, slapping against his abdomen. The neon green head already leaking with sticky precum. You eyed him, gaze drawn down towards the movement. A gracious lift of your lips had his blood evaporating from his form.

If he believed he had died and gone to Cetanu’s hunting ground before… When he saw you lean down, mouth opening, he truly knew his soul had left him completely. But it wasn’t until your lips surrounded the tip that he knew his fate was sealed.

Your thickly muscled tongue found his slit easily and forged a path with that muscle. His heart stuttered in his chest, barely able to work in these conditions. Vic’tao’s hands clenched into his fists, desperate to saw through the rope. He needed you so badly that you didn’t know. He’s never felt this way before. Not in this way.

A keen broke the quiet of the air. The Yautja above you squirmed once more in his bonds but they held steady, not making a sound of complaint. You continued to lave at the head of his cock with just your tongue sliding between the valley of his slit at the tip. He kept twitching, harshly with a lust you were soon to fulfill.

That’s when you decided to let the palm on his cheek drop down to his balls. Soft fingertips brushed against his tight sac. Unlike your own species, they weren’t fully hung low. The skin was taut but thick, not exposing the most important part of him out to the world. Yet, it was still sensitive.

It sent spikes of pleasure racing up his spine. His whole body shivered and trembled worse than a leaf. You felt them throb and pull up into his pelvis. Vic’tao’s cock pulsing heavily with need just resting in your mouth. There was no other place you wanted to be. Him, on the other hand, wanted to be buried to the hilt inside of you, seed filling your womb and knot sealing all of him inside of you. The perfect place to be.

Compared to other times, he felt ready to come so soon. Yet, something he learned from last session like this, the silicone ring around his base prevented him from coming easily. His cock jumped, slipping from your mouth to slapping with a wet noise against his stomach again. You straightened your back to watch him twitch with his hips thrusting for any kind of friction. The cock ring was working heavily in your favor. You felt pride enter your bloodstream to have already so close with little time.

“Aww, sweet thing. I didn’t know you were so sensitive,” you said with a honeyed tone. Your fingers brush against the underside of his pulsating shaft. Right when they were about to grace his tip, you pulled away and placed a kiss on an upper mandible. The male choked and tried to break his bonds once more.

He was desperate for your touch and you took it away when you were about to touch him where he needed you most. “It’s alright, love. I’m going to take care of you. Be patient though. Can you do that for me?” you taunted and shuffled away from him. Vic’tao attempted to follow you like the lost puppy he is. “Stay.”

Just with one word, he stopped in his tracks. His whole demeanor has changed. His eyes were blown wide, slightly giving him a pathetic look you were eating up. You tapped the area between his mandibles with a finger. “Good boy.”

One of the most woeful whines pierced the quiet air. You raised a brow at him with a question within your eyes. From the edges of your vision, Vic’tao’s long, neon green cock twitched. More precum leaking from the tip and rolling down the length of him. Before it could go to waste, you used a finger to swipe it up and lick it off of your fingers.

Vic’tao felt something shatter inside of him. All thoughts of staying a hint of preserved was lost to the sea that consumed his mind. With all of strength, he pulled and fought against his bonds. Fully.

They did not break. They did not creak. They did not give.

It shocked him out of that state. His gaze snapped up to your smirking features. A glint of pride and courage shined at him. He growled and tried to escape once more. Claws and muscles used against the simple fabric holding him in place. Nothing happened. He was truly stuck. Presented to your will. The realization sunk into his bones, settling far deeper than he wanted.

What he wanted was you. And you were being a damn tease! He could almost cry those salty tears like you at this.

Once more, you scooted close to him and rested a palm on his chest. ”Aww, poor baby. do you want me to take care of it for you?” The other hand came to squeeze at those beautiful thighs of his. Despite whatever dignity was left in his lustful body, he rapidly nodded his head. He swore he heard you purr with delight.

“Alrighty, I’ll let you come. You best be good and listen to when I say to.” Vic’tao chirped and dipped his head again. The words were really going in one ear and out the other. All he knew was the ring was being removed. Then he could come at least on you. Maybe you’ll let him push into you. Any hole. He wasn’t going to complain where.

You petted his thigh before carefully using two hands to slide the ring off of him. It was difficult without hurting him or having to cut the band. His knot had grown to its full size, a sign that told you he so desperately close. With some luck and lube, you were finally able to remove it and place it next to the box.

More precum dribbled down in thicker spurts. A couple of finger swipes prevented those from touching the bedroom’s ground. Vic’tao growled and snarled each time you did so but didn’t come. And you praised him for that.

Now, as you sat back to admire this sweet thing desperate for touch – for your touch, you mauled over what to do next. He deserved his release. Where though? There were so many different options and routes to go.

A part of you wanted to loosen the ropes that tied his hands together behind his back. Then he could bend you over at your command and fuck you with his knot and hard cock. That feels like you were giving control back over to him. You didn’t want that. He was yours to do what you pleased to do with.

Instead, you rested your upper forearms on his thick thighs. Vic’tao’s cock now presented in front of you, gorgeous and leaking. It jumped again, bouncing off of his abdomen once more. “Don’t come until I tell you, okay sweet thing?” you ordered him with hooded eyes.

He swallowed the thick lump in his throat and dipped his head. The smirk on your features wasn’t going away anytime soon. By god, you could eat him up when he’s like this. So handsome, strong, fearless, and sounds like heaven. “Good boy.” You snatched the middle of his cock before he could move away from you. He pulsed like his strong, steady heart in your grasp. “Yeah, you like that.” It was the perfect amount of talking he liked. Just enough to keep him from drifting off to lavish in the pleasure that you gave him.

With your tongue, you pressed it flat against the underside and licked up. Just from that, you could see how much a struggled to stop from coming. Guilt rose up inside of you. You couldn’t let him suffer for much longer like this. It almost broke your heart. He’s been good long enough. He’s been your good Yautja for you. All for you.

“You’ve been so good, Vic’tao. So very good. I want you to come down my throat. Can you do that, love?” The question and words almost completely flew over his head due to what you first said. It had distracted him. But once more, he nodded needily and jerked his hips up at you.

You wrapped your lips softly around the tip and suckled while your tongue played with his underside. With a hand firmly around him, he couldn’t move or accidentally twitch. Not this time. He wasn’t escaping you again. He was yours to consume now.

A choked roar sounded from the back of his throat. He cried out, hands clawing at the ropes without much thought. Vic’tao needed something to hold onto. He needed something to ground himself with. But he couldn’t, he couldn’t.

His hips rocked harshly forward. The hand around him prevented anything bad from happening. That didn’t stop you from taking him as deep as possible the moment before he came undone. He filled your throat completely. With both his cock and thick cum. You swallowed the best you could around, further stroking him and prolonging his orgasm.

The palm around his base felt the ball of flesh that made up his knot harden. A huge gush of cum spurted from his tip, immediately going down your throat. You forced him further into you and felt the familiar bulge form in your throat. A sight he loves to see. Unfortunately, this position didn’t offer that to him.

Vibrations from a groan raced up his length. He gasped, muscles bulging with all of he’s worth. This orgasm kept going and going and going. You were milking him dry with just your mouth and hand alone. Then, you looked up at him through your lashes.

He felt himself snap again. But there was nothing he could do besides sit and endure your torture. Until these ropes were removed.

Your lips were pushed against his knot, unable to take anymore. An even suction was kept on him and pulled as much cum from as possible. Your eyes stayed locked with his, unable to look away. You felt him twitch deep in your throat.

That’s when you finally felt the burn of your lungs calling for oxygen. All good things must come to an end. You pull off of him with a loud ‘pop!’ and gasp for needed air. Pants filled the tense atmosphere, both from Vic’tao and yourself. Yet, your eyes never left him as you straightened your back and wiped the dribble off from your chin. When you shifted on your knees, they brushed against the forgotten vibrator. Well, there’s always next time.

Both of your hands cupped at his cheeks as you smiled softly. You licked at your lips before speaking. “You did so well for me. How do you feel? The ropes aren’t hurting you, are they?” It was your turn to care for him. He was yours to care for in the aftermath.

Vic’tao grunted to clear his throat. “Off,” is all he rasps. Concern filled your veins to the brim, overflowing into your body. In matter of seconds, you were racing to pull at the ropes that kept him tied up. Quickly, they were loosened until they fell off of him.

He pounced.

His heavily, lean body shoved you back and hovered over you. Some of his weight resting on you and kept you between a rock and a hard place with nowhere else to go. His face buried into the crook of your neck, tongue lavishing against the sweat building up there. A groan rumbled through his chest.

Now that he was free, he humped his hips against your mound, unable to slip in. A pathetic whine escaped him. “Please.” It had hit you. He’s still in his sub mindset, despite the ropes now removed from his body. A grin grew on your face. All worries before were wiped away. But it fell away as you put a honeyed expression on.

“It’s okay. I’m right here,” you spoke calmly and ran your hand over one of his upper mandibles. You reached between your two bodies and grasped at him. Vic’tao hissed, eyes clenched shut. With that hold on him, you guided him to where he needed to be. At the feel of you, he thrusted forward, almost entering you. But the slick and cum that coated had him slipping away.

Vic’tao growled with sexual frustration that ended with a whine. “I know, love. It’ll be okay. You can use me.” At your words, he left himself finally enter you with a breathy moan. “Yeah that’s it,” you groaned with him, eyes rolling into the back of your head.

And the rest was history. Sticky, wet, exhausted history.

[gamblersdoll]

brolys concept of love is .. skewed.

he only knows his father, cheelai, and leemo. but he does think he loved his father before he perished at the hands of frieza, but he does still love him.

even if he finally comes to terms that paragus didnt properly raise him as a son, he loved him. thats all he had when he was banished to vampa.

but with you? its… frustrating, it feels foreign.

he knows he likes giving you things that look pretty, or just cute. hes given you rocks, because he thinks that they have their own beauty within them. how did he come up with this? well, he inspected it at first, it was just some brown rock that was rough and dry on the outside. but, he breaks it, seeing the new shiny and crystalized structure inside.

and he gives that to you.

he also doesnt like vegeta or beerus around you. it makes his chest tight, like a sense of protection should be around you. but, you always assure him that youre okay, like he wants you to be.

and dont get me started on the fact he wanders when he looks for you. yall ever seen a corso or doggo argentino just wander? and its a whiny thing? thats him. he checks each room and when he doesnt find you, he gets nervous.

because what if you had left? where did you go? it takes a toll on him, because you were really all he trusted. cheelai and leemo were there, sure. but you were just… different from them. he panics, almost losing himself and having to have goku or vegeta calm him and guide him to you is a concurrent thing.

he also needs your comfort at night.

the first nightmare of you was you leaving, never leaving a trace.. or your death. it freaks him out, because he remembers paragus’ death, and he blamed himself when he was told. it took months for you to finally tell him that it wasnt his fault, it couldnt have been.

and hes up like a light, doing the deep breathing exercises that you taught him and clutching ba’s ear.

his feet pad against the floor, eyes filled with grogginess and find your sleeping frame in your own bed. he lightly taps you, you moaning and turning to him. “hello.”

“what is it, baby?” you say, a smaller voice yet stronger southern accent comforting him. “had a nightmare?”

he nods, a pout in his face and he’s trying his best to not tear up.

“c’mere..” you say, scooting to the side of your bed and watching him crawl into it. it was slightly amusing, a big saiyan crawling into a small bed. “you wanna talk about it?”

“no, i dont.” he says, facing you and watching your frame. “am i allowed to.. touch you?” he asks cautiously, big hand on your shoulder.

you looked beautiful, even in the darkness of the day.

you nod, getting closer to him and radiating your heat to him. and he feels safer, like he knows youre not going anywhere and that he wont have to grieve you, either.

he knew that he was in love with you when you watched him finally go super saiyan, and you cheered in joy. he feels himself get giddy, his chest tighter, and he wants to cry from feeling joy.

he just couldnt tell you yet.

[hanafubukki]

Ever have those moments when you just daydream and go, “I am so in love with you?”

I mean it’s not surprising and I’ve been knowing but just…thinking about these domestic moments with Lilia today…

And it’s like, “wow, I am very stupidly in love with you”

And it’s the disbelief and the giddiness that just fills you, you know? At the realization? Well, re-realization I guess you can say?? The joy??

I have no idea where I’m going with this. It’s just one of those days where you just think about stuff like this and it hits you all over again 🥹💞🙏

[po11yannaswife]

𝑊𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝐿𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑁.𝐼 ๋࣭⭑𝜗𝜚

𖹭 𝑃𝑜𝑙𝑙𝑦 𝐺𝑟𝑎𝑦 𝑥𝐹𝑒𝑚!𝑅𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟 𝑙𝑒𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑠𝑒𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑠 𖹭 ;

𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑡 𝐼𝐼 ; 𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑡 𝐼 𝑜𝑓 𝑐𝑖𝑟𝑐𝑎 1923-1924

𝑊𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠: 𝑠𝑒𝑚𝑖-𝑎𝑏𝑢𝑠𝑖𝑣𝑒 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑠, 𝑔𝑜𝑟𝑒, 𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑛𝑎𝑙𝑖𝑧𝑒𝑑 ℎ𝑜𝑚𝑜𝑝ℎ𝑜𝑏𝑖𝑎, 𝑛𝑒𝑎𝑟-𝑑𝑒𝑎𝑡ℎ 𝑒𝑥𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑛𝑐𝑒𝑠, 𝑑𝑒𝑎𝑡ℎ, ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑣𝑦 𝑑𝑒𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑠𝑖𝑜𝑛 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑃𝑇𝑆𝐷.

𝐅𝐞𝐛𝐫𝐮𝐚𝐫𝐲 𝟏𝟏𝐭𝐡, 𝟏𝟗𝟐𝟒

How I’ve been busy these days.

Grace and Thomas are getting married in two weeks, and I have been expected to help plan it, help with the customs of her dress, make sure Charlie is taken care of if Thomas and Grace have chosen to go out and plan themselves. Or fuck. In return I’m being taught Romani and have a nicer paycheque.

I’m too nice to reject helping the two, even if I don’t fancy Grace. She has a notorious past of being a snitch to the Shelby family, a liar. Somehow, she made her way into Thomas’s heart, and now they have a child together and she is to be joining their family. It’s not my family, so I don’t think I have the right to say much..do I? I don’t have a clue anymore.

When I say I don’t fancy Grace, I mean I don’t trust her. I dislike her. The only reason I am helping, is because she makes Thomas happy. She gave him a child. She gave him the ability to feel true love, to feel the beauty of romance once more and unleash a more affectionate side of him. For that, I do appreciate her for. Usually, if someone did what she did to Tommy, they’d be six feet under, only remains of their bones to be found and the blood would be on Shelby's hands. But, odd enough, he did the complete opposite.

I’m not one to judge being in a very odd love situation, though. I’d be a hypocrite. I have been, for the past four bloody years, desperately in love with Polly. Everything she does ignites this peculiar sense of happiness and fluttering feeling inside of me. Every time she speaks to me, god forbid praises me for my work, my feet kick on their own and an uncontrollable smile happens. I feel like a giddy school girl who has a crush on their superior. It’s awful.

I don’t know if she has noticed. If she has, I’d be surprised she hasn’t shot me yet and gets it over with. Who would want a younger girl hopelessly in love with them? The same bloody sex as them? I couldn’t imagine the stress, the disgust. I feel as if I’d kill myself first if Polly were to make it known she was disgusted or repelled by me, though. And luckily, I don’t think she is.

Ada on the other hand, most definitely has and that brings a sense of fear to me once more. She talks, and it’s not like I told her!  She said she knew by the look in my eye whenever I see Polly, how they dilate immensely, how my cheeks go slightly red..I don’t know. She just blatantly asked when Polly left the room and I couldn’t deny it..I tried.

What scares me is that Polly is much more aware and she knows everything. Does she know about my infatuation with her? God, does she know of this journal? Four years of pure mind vents of my love for her? I think I’d burn this, then go hang myself before I bloody burn in the flames of hell.

With Love.

"Excuse me, Miss Y/l/n?" Francis interjected, capturing your attention as you turned your head. "Do you happen to know where Grace would like this?" She gestured towards the enormous painting of a horse, particularly Tommy's favourite.

You gazed at the painting for a moment, closing your journal in the process. Feeling a bit uncertain, you rose from your seat and surveyed the walls of Tommy's office. As the other maids' murmurs filled the air, you pointed hesitantly at a blank space between two bookshelves and suggested, "I believe this spot should work well, I think."

Oh, yes, the part no one could forget. Partially designing their new countryside mansion! Extremely exciting and absolutely not stressful at all! Why would such a joy ever be stressful?...get the sarcasm yet?

Watching as they went over to that wall and began to place it, looking over at you for your reference. “Here? Or higher?”

"An inch higher... no, a bit lower," you directed, unintentionally losing sight of the strain the maids were enduring. Their discomfort went unnoticed as they struggled to raise the artwork above their heads. One of them held a nail and a hammer, wincing quietly. "Higher," you insisted, the collective groans of the maids unintentionally disregarded.

"Higher- Oh, fuck!" Fortunately, your close proximity allowed you to just manage to catch the priceless painting before disaster struck. "The centre will do! Just in the middle!" You made your decision right then, feeling how heavy the painting was.

With urgency, the maid on the stool grabbed the nail and swiftly drove it into the wall. The frame's edge pressed into your shoulder, a pang of guilt striking you for not fully acknowledging the two women who awaited your decision. "Gently lift the painting upward, that's perfect." The maid on the stool commanded softly.

As a bunch, you guided the artwork, skillfully hooking the wire onto the sturdy nail. The two maids released their grip as you carefully pressed the painting against the wall, ensuring it hung straight. You slid your hands together swiftly afterwards, taking a deep breath. 

“I apologise to the two of you for not choosing quicker.” You spoke to the two women who stood behind you, massaging their own hands as mumbles came from the both of them. “That is one bloody hefty painting, innit Francis?”

“I would’ve made sure to warn you if I would have known you were to help hang it,” She admitted as the third maid climbed down the stool, getting out of your view. “Thank you.”

“Why is that fucking thing so heavy?” You breathlessly rhetorically asked, rubbing your shoulder. “I mean, I get it’s a painting, but fucking Christ.”

Francis chuckled, “Mr. Shelby has exquisite taste, and I presume his taste means we have to almost kill ourselves decorating with it.” You agreed with a hum, turning back to the woman. “You should go home, it’s getting late.”

“Can’t do that with how much they expect of me,” You sighed, “There’s work to do, and if I don’t do it, it’ll stress me out that I have to do it.”

There was silence between the both of you until Francis spoke, her statement making your heart just slightly drop.

“You’re turning into Mr. Shelby.”

𝐅𝐞𝐛𝐫𝐮𝐚𝐫𝐲 𝟏𝟒𝐭𝐡, 𝟏𝟗𝟐𝟒

It is Valentine’s day and I cannot say I am happy today for any reason.

Francis has a day off, which means I am taking care of Charlie. Ada is too far in London, and Polly is taking care of the betting shop. Now, I don’t understand why another maid cannot just take care of him. But, what can I do? I’m not gonna let the boy be alone. I make this sound like I take care of him everyday, which isn’t the case, but I’m here quite often. Somehow, I’m starting to miss Small Heath…fuck, am I homesick? 

It’s not like I have any romance with anyone, any partner. I’m not missing out on a fancy outing with my significant other or a good fuck. I never even had a fuck but, still. I’ve always heard in the magazines and books I read it feels good and magical almost. How intimate it is and it’s the best when miracles of life come from it. In real life on the other hand? I've heard quite a different perspective, especially from housewives in places like Birmingham and France. They describe it as becoming monotonous after a few repetitions. According to their accounts, the husband's experience is often centred around his own satisfaction, with little consideration for the wife's pleasure. This seems incredibly..unfair to me. What's even more perplexing is that these same wives end up getting pregnant repeatedly without seemingly experiencing any pleasure from the act. I get so confused. Why does the man receive all the satisfaction while the woman is left with the responsibility of taking care of his children, especially when he might be engaging with prostitutes under the guise of work? I've encountered numerous such men at the betting shop, and I've managed to restrain my reactions in their presence, despite my feelings about it.

Thing is, I don’t want a man to fuck me. Cocks have never gained my attraction, they scare me. And men with their entitlement and nasty personas, just wanting a weak housewife for her to take care of him..it repulses me. I’ve never felt any sort of sexual attraction really, until I think of Polly. It’s this funny feeling, I’m not dumb to not know I’m turned on. I just don’t know how to..take care of it. I think I’m sexually frustrated. Romantically, everything. I’m frustrated with my love life because the person I love is a bloody woman..whom I haven’t seen in a week and I am beginning to go mental. I need to hear her voice again and a single embrace. I love spending time with Charlie and in this beautiful home, but I love her more. 

On the other more serious side, Thomas has let me know that we’ve begun business in Russia. They need weapons, imports, things like that. Britain has gotten him, well, us involved with this to be civil Russian war..it’s hard to understand. Thomas supplies them with weapons since Britain cannot show their support for the capitalists. I’m not good at political topics, but I have some base. I have the burden of being one of the only people knowing this as well, thanks to Tommy. Then, we are dealing with Italians once more, the Changrettas. I pray that they won’t start a war or anything of violent matters.

Oh, not to mention, Arthur has this really religious woman that he plans on marrying, Linda. I don’t like her. She’s real odd. But I suppose love is love, even with some weird eerie Catholic lady.

With Love.

𝐅𝐞𝐛𝐫𝐮𝐚𝐫𝐲 𝟐𝟕𝐭𝐡, 𝟏𝟗𝟐𝟒

The day of Tommy’s and Grace’s wedding and I cannot deny that I am nervous. It is six in the morning as I write this in the car, one of the blinders giving me the ride to Warwickshire. That’s a silly name, even when writing it I giggle to myself. It sounds like a candle.

I will be helping the maids prepare for the celebrations after the ceremony, handling Grace’s hair which I don’t mind, and before even attempting to run to the ceremony, make sure Charlie is in good hands with Francis. I feel like a permanent, more trusted maid for the two lovebirds. I don’t know if I hate it, but all I know is my stress is at an all time high. I hope to see the wedding ceremony, but if I don’t, it’s okay I guess.

There isn’t much else to say here. The day hasn’t even started, I’m not even at the manor or, as properly named, the Arrow House. I hope all goes well and the future newlyweds can enjoy their day without any mishaps. This is the Peaky Blinders we’re speaking of here so, that probably won’t happen.

With Love.

“Mr. Shelby hasn’t mentioned you’re a writer, Miss Y/l/n.” The driver stated his observation in almost a flirtatious tone. “You an author?”

You laughed, shutting the book and putting it into your bag that was full with the dress and accessories for later in the day. “No, no. I journal as a way to speak freely of my experiences without the stress of someone saying anything. It’s nothing, really.”

“Without the stress of someone saying anything?” He cocked a brow, repeating your statement in a more questioning way. “Why, you’ve been bad? What do you do, pretty girl?”

This felt weird, and not in a good way. He knew what you did for a living, everyone knew that associated with the peaky blinders, so why was he seemingly trying to get something out of you? That or..horrible flirting. His question still stood, so you answered it as subtly as you could. “No. Just have been doing my job.” 

The way he was silent for the rest of the ride made you assume that your stern tone made him equally uncomfortable. Once you were in front of the house, you opened the door, searched through your pocket and took out three quid. “I haven’t been informed on what your pay is, so this is an appreciation. But, listen to me closely,” You leaned in, getting the man slightly scared just from the tone in your voice as it lowered a few octaves.

“Don’t ever question what we do, especially to us. You know what we do. Understood?” You questioned, narrowing your eyes at him.

He quickly nodded, “Yes ma’am.” 

Rolling your eyes, you grabbed a hold of your bag and left the car, shutting the door behind you. You took a key out of your pocket and welcomed yourself in, gently closing the door. The quietness that filled the home made you weary of your footsteps, ready to take your stilettos off so the clicking wouldn’t disturb anyone.

Voices upstairs could be heard once you were in the dining room, by now it was around seven. A sigh escaped your lips as you placed your bag down. Driven by your lingering sense of paranoia, you retrieved a needle and thread to mend the already-buttoned opening. It was a seemingly small action, but your cautious nature prevailed. In your view, there was no such thing as being overly cautious.

A sudden exclamation from Francis, calling out "Oh, Miss Y/l/n!" startled you, causing the needle to prick your finger. However, you had become somewhat used to this sensation by now. Bringing your finger to your lips, you sucked on it for a moment before resuming your task, focusing on stitching diligently.

"Good morning, Francis," you said in a subdued tone as she approached, her curiosity evident. Anticipating her unspoken query, you explained, "I can't bring myself to leave this with just a button. I'm sewing it shut, so later on, I can easily cut it open with a blade."

Francis raised an eyebrow and suggested, "You are aware that you have your own personal room, yes?"

Confused by the statement, you halted your stitching. You inquired, "I wasn't informed about any personal room…?"

Responding wordlessly, Francis gestured for you to follow her, picking up your bag as she did so. Your eyes widened at the realisation, and you swiftly stood up, hurrying to keep pace with her. “Francis, please be careful, that has my dress and necklace-!” You seethed as the bag swung a little too much, hitting the railing. 

She continued her way up the stairs, wandering you both down the never ending hallways of the house. Your eyes automatically gazed on their family portraits and various other paintings in awe as you stepped up the stairs, wishing to be so rich you could get a portrait of yourself one day.

"Tonight, all members of the Shelby family will be assigned rooms, but Mr. Shelby specifically requested a permanent arrangement for yours," she informed you. With a touch of irony, she opened a door directly opposite Charlie's room and carefully placed your bag on the loveseat within.

At this point, there was no concealing your awe. The room was a marvel to behold. Lavish golden sconces, intricate stained glass, and a captivating view of the grand entrance through the windows. it was a space that could very well overlook your entire residence in Small Heath. Correction, it most certainly did. "Miss Burgess also insisted that this room be yours, as it's in proximity to Charlie's room. Furthermore, their own bedroom is only a few doors down the hall. The lavatory can be found further along the corridor, and you'll find cloths in the linen closet."

“Fuck..” You breathed out, studying the exquisite bedroom. “Thank you.”

Francis nodded, “Shall I come in when Miss Burgess needs you?” She stopped herself, pinching her nose. “You’ll be helping us..nevermind. Apologies.”

“No worries. I’ll be down in a few. Where are we starting, by the way?” 

“The main entertainment room. We begin the dining later on before the ceremony. We’ll start earlier for your sake of getting to the ceremony.” You smiled at the consideration, relieved that you may possibly be able to.

“Right, thank you Francis.” She bowed her head before leaving the bedroom to yourself, shutting the wooden door behind her.

You went over to your bag that was sitting on the loveseat, taking the blade from your garter and slicing the unfinished stitching. You took out your dress, smiling at it briefly before laying it down on the bed. You took your journal out and put it at the desk area, trusting no one would touch it. Everything was out of the bag from the dress to your heels, putting it snugly under the bed.

After a few minutes, you checked on Charlie before going back downstairs, finding all the maids right where they were expected to be. They all looked at you as if you were their leader, and you looked at the underdecored room and the fancy decorations in stacks near a corner.

You smacked your lips, debating whether or not to run out and leave to get out of it. Instead, you clapped your hands, “Right, Ethel, begin with the bowls for the alcohol, everyone else, begin melting the candles to the candelabrums! Please!” Everyone nodded and went to their destinations of their jobs, leaving you to start giving the men jobs. “John, William, Henry, begin to set up the dancing area where the musicians will be playing. Thank you.”

They all nodded, walking away. You stood there, savouring the relaxation you had for those few seconds before getting to work with the other ladies, already awaiting for Grace to call you up just to get away from chaos.

And as quick as it was, three hours had passed and Francis had called for you, letting you leave the other women and go find her. Once you did, she smiled politely. “Miss Burgess will see you now.”

“Thank you, Francis. Once again.” You stepped up the stairs, heading straight for the main bedroom that Grace and Tommy shared. You stopped just as you were about to knock, taking a deep breath in case there was any tension or confessions waiting to happen. As you had said before, you disliked her, didn’t hate her. You also had made the promise to Thomas that this would be a civil, peaceful day. Everyone did. No fights were to happen, and no talk of past mistakes and actions.

Finally, you knocked lightly on the door, greeted by a soft “Come in.” You turned the doorknob and let yourself in, smiling at Grace who was at her vanity. “Good morning, Y/n.”

“Morning Grace.” You replied kindly, stepping more into the room. “How are you?”

Grace laughed with a pure smile on her face, “Excited. How are you? I’ve heard you got here quite early.”

You hummed, studying her hair you had set last night. You had to wash the hair with some of the most expensive and most nicest products one could reach, wait for it to dampen up so it wouldn’t get too frizzy, take setting lotion, gently run it through the hair evenly, then use an amount of bobby pins no one could count to make these curls, and use silk to cover it for the night. Next day, now you have to take it out, and use your fingers to tame the curls before having them set, then put this wonderfully and elegant jewel encrusted aliceband over and make sure before the ceremony, her veil is fit.

You began to remove bobby pins, “I’m alright, thank you..just a little nervous.” You admitted to the woman, yawning in the process. “I’m gonna try my absolute best to make your hair as flawless as possible.”

“I trust you, Y/n, I would’ve chosen one of the maids or someone from London if I didn’t.” Grace spoke softly, filing her nails as she studied you with a concerned look . “Have you brought an outfit? I don’t mean to offend, but-”

“Don’t worry Grace, I have a more appropriate outfit for the occasion in my bedroom, which,” You plopped another pin into the dish, “You have no idea how much I am grateful for. I appreciate the kindness you and Tommy have given me to give me such a room.”

Grace chuckled, looking at you through the mirror. “You’ve helped us much with our baby boy and getting settled here. You earned that room, Y/n.” You smiled in response, staying silent as you focused on her hair and getting it finished so she could move on with other responsibilities.

There were a few minutes of complete silence between the two of you, avoiding Grace’s occasional gaze was a little tough, feeling a little awkward before she sucked in a breath. You looked at her with your eyebrows raised, worried something was wrong. 

“You do think Thomas loves me, yes?”

The question made you freeze, wondering why she’d ask you such a peculiar thing. Everyone has doubts and thoughts on their big day, but what you were confused on was why she was asking specifically you this question. Taking one of the very last pins out, you grabbed the comb that was beside her and finally peered up at her.

After a second of mustering up your thoughts, your thumb ran along the edges of the comb. “Grace, may I give you an honest answer?” She nodded, slight fear visible in her blue eyes. You began to lightly comb through the curls, no longer looking at her. “If anyone else did the things you did to Tommy and Ada, they would be dead. They would be brutally murdered by our men.” You stated gently, turning her head to the side. “But, you, Grace, because you had stolen his heart, because you bloody had him fall in love with you, he didn’t. He didn’t dare to hurt you. And that, my love, that is true love. You betrayed him and yet he still came back, and that shows me how much he does truly love you and forgive you for your selfish mistakes.”

Grace stared at you as you explained your words, not offended, just surprised. “I’m happy for you both, but you wanted the honest truth.”

“I did.” Grace responded quickly, folding her hands in her lap. “And I appreciate it. I appreciate you for treating me well and supporting our decision.”

“Appreciate me?” You quipped, puzzled. “For supporting your decision to get married to Tommy?”

“We both know how Polly feels about this.” She narrowed her eyes at you, her voice more stern. “So yes, I do appreciate you.”

“I think Polly is valid for the way she feels, you know how she is, Grace.” You said truthfully, sighing in the process. “No means to offend, but she doesn’t trust you one bit. Nor has she forgotten. The ones you think have forgotten haven’t, they’re just pretending to do so to either to make Tommy happy, or for their own benefit. I do believe people can change, Grace, believe me when I say this. I believe you have indeed changed, but we will still never forget.”

Grace didn’t say one word, just gazing at you with such..guilt? You didn’t know. “How about we focus on the nice things today, eh? You have a bright baby boy, you’re getting married, you’re filthy rich, have a huge manor, and have a very attractive husband to be. You’re lucky, Grace. Wish I was like you.”

“...You’re in love with-?”

“Oh, god no!” You shouted, shaking your head. “I’d rather hang myself.”

Grace furrowed her brows, “I’m marrying him.” Her voice was stern, as if she was now frustrated with your impulsive choice of words.

Awkwardly peering back up at her, you laughed, “Not- not in a bad way! No! I feel like that with all men! I mean I could never be attracted to one.” Realising what you had just said, you wanted to take the comb in your hand and stab it into your eyes. You wanted to jump out the window and let fate do the job. You wanted to die. Grace looked even more confused now, only one of her eyebrows raised. “Where’s the alice band, love?”

Her lips curved into a genuine smile, and the remark slipped from her memory as she accessed a drawer. From within, she retrieved a velvet box, presenting it to you as though it were a precious gem. “Tommy got it specially made for me. My mother wore one on her wedding day with her veil, so I must continue the tradition. Tommy and I are gonna try for a girl next, so she can carry it on.” She rambled enthusiastically, clapping her hands twice as a sign of her excitement. You smiled in return, gently taking the top off and admiring the band for a second. It was quite actually glimmering. You took it out as carefully as possible and targeted the loops, placing it on top of her head slowly before adjusting it. 

Taking one of the bobby pins, you put it through a loop at one of the ends and placed it through, then ensuring it’d stay by attaching it to her hair. You repeated the action for the other side, your hand lightly laying on her neck. “There we are, Grace.”

She grinned brightly, admiring herself in the mirror as she looked at it from all angles. “It’s gorgeous.” She spoke, turning to you after admiring herself for those few moments as you just stood there, relieved it was okay. She stood up, taking a deep breath before taking both of your hands. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” You returned a small smile, yawning once again. “Sorry.”

“You look absolutely dreadful.” You squeezed your eyes shut at the comment, facepalming yourself as Grace tried to save herself. It was really nice hearing that after all you had done. “I didn’t mean that in a bad way, Y/n. I meant it in a concerned manner.”

“It’s what happens when you don’t get any sleep.” You groaned, glancing in the mirror and trying to tame your hair slightly. 

“Here,” Grace opened her drawer, her other hand around your wrist. She pulled out a few bejewelled clips, putting her attention back on you. The glimmering Sapphire made your eyes dilate as she took a brush and brushed through your hair for a few minutes, pulling it back and delicately placing the clips in so it stayed. She placed the other two halfway to your roots, securing the clips. “It’s not as much effort as you put into my hair, but I think you look beautiful.”

You smiled, nodding in agreement. “I do. Even the little things count, eh?”

Grace chuckled, “You can keep them.”

“Oh, nonsense-”

“Please. Keep them, they’re my gift for your efforts.” Grace stopped you as you looked at her with wide eyes. “Sapphire looks wonderful with your eyes. And it is your birthstone, yes?”

The consideration and kindness made you bipolar with how you felt about Grace. It was strange. On one side, you had already explained to her that you literally disliked her, and so did most of the family. The gesture was unexpected, to say the least. On the other hand, she most likely wanted to heal the wounds she made with kindness, like right then. Nonetheless, after you thought, you gave her a small smile, murmuring an appreciation.

“If I’m holding you from tasks, you may go. I apologise for keeping you so long.” Grace offered, pushing the drawer shut and walking over to where her dress was. You looked at the clock and silently gasped, a fucking hour had passed.

“Yes, I actually must. I have to get ready myself.” You said in a panicked tone, glancing up at her one last time. “Is there anything else you need, Grace?”

“For you to get bloody ready.”

And so you did.

After her words left her lips, you swiftly made your way to your bedroom, the door meeting a resounding slam as it closed behind you. The champagne coloured satin dress laid before you, accompanied by the strap pumps recently gifted by Tommy during his New York trip with Grace, and, of course, the opal earrings from France. Except for moments of dirty tasks, the ring your mother gave you adorned your finger without failure.

Your first task involved delicately fastening your stockings to the garters, the fabric ascending to your lower thigh with a clip to your garter. Then, quickly removing your previous attire due to the frigid temperature, you hastened to slip the lightweight dress over your head, your arms seamlessly finding their places within the designated sleeves. A glance at the mirror prompted a meticulous adjustment, as you meticulously smoothed out any creases or imperfections. A content smile graced your lips as the dress obediently hugged your curves and elegantly emphasised your waist..and your cleavage just slightly.

A muffled thud against your door drew your eyebrows together in puzzlement; Francis or Grace typically announced their arrival without delay. With cautious steps, you approached the door, a soft gasp escaping as you found Charlie outside, his expression marred by a frown. "Oh, baby," you cooed, your arms embracing the…husky child as you lifted him up with a quiet grunt. You closed the door behind you, setting Charlie comfortably in a cocoon of pillows. “What were you doing out there silly?” You rhetorically asked, booping his nose which elicited a cute laugh from him. You grinned before stepping away, continuing to get ready. You closed the necklace around your neck that was simply pearls, put your earrings in with a little bit of trouble to get them through, and that was practically it. You had painted your nails the night before and your light makeup was already on.

“Charlie, honey,” You sat on the bed next to him, getting your pumps on. “I’m gonna be gone for a while, so you’re gonna go to Francis, okay?” The frown had returned as you pet his hair back lovingly, adjusting the last strap to your shoe. “Mummy will say goodbye before she leaves too.”

You stood back up and put your wrap over your shoulders, putting a coat clip in the middle so it stayed put. You then picked Charlie back up carefully, bringing him back to his bedroom where Grace was heading.              

“Y/n? Please let Francis know General Curran is welcomed inside once he arrives.” You nodded, running down the stairs just to attempt to get to the church on time, checking on the maids one last time before heading outside after letting Francis know of Grace’s message.

Panic settled in when you lost track of even planning how’d you get there, afraid of ruining your dress and looking like an idiot. You felt fucked in this situation, minutes of standing outside and debating whether to just miss it or not.

“You alright, pretty girl?” You recognised the voice immediately.

Turning to the man who had driven you earlier, he had a cheesy grin on his face as he leaned against his car. You rolled your eyes, heading right towards it. “Thank you.” You muttered as he opened the car door for you, shutting it behind. He got into his seat, immediately beginning to drive. 

“Mr. Shelby sent me for you.”

“Tommy?”

“Arthur.” He corrected. You laughed to yourself as you searched your clutch for everything you needed, shutting it once you confirmed you did.

The drive wasn’t far at all, which was the tiniest bit shocking. Once at the church, you paid him another five quid before exiting the vehicle, yelling an appreciation as you rushed yet quietly tip-toed inside.   

Arthur’s eyes lit up as you entered the church, smirking like he had just won a bet. You returned the smile before awkwardly getting on the side that obviously wasn’t full of calvary men, everyone there greeting you as you tried to get somewhere comfortable and not full of crying children.

“Y/n,” Polly called, clearly in a mood. “Here.”

With a sense of tension, you offered apologies under your breath to everyone in your acquaintance, then manoeuvred yourself to slip in behind Linda. Polly reached out, her hand enveloping your forearm as she drew you closer to her. A faint flush coloured your cheeks at her touch, and you stole a quick glance up at her.

She subjected you to a thorough gaze, her eyes meticulously taking in every inch of your being in what seemed like admiration. "You're quite the vision," she remarked, her tone suggestive of approval.

Caught off guard by her comment, your eyes widened, a hint of worry creeping in. "Oh, well, yes. Is that alright?" you stammered, concern lacing your words.

Polly cocked a brow at your question, “You worry too much, sweet girl. You look lovely.” Her hand went to your upper back, rubbing it before taking it back to herself. You couldn’t help but frown when her touch left you, feeling cold once again.

“It’s nice to meet you again, Miss Y/l/n.” Linda spoke ever so quietly, making you slowly turn towards her with a faux smile.

“No need for formalities. I’m not that old, Linda.” Polly quietly chuckled from behind you, that making you swiftly turn around again. “What? I’m not!” You shouted in a hush manner. “I’m not even 24!-”

“Hush, you silly girl. I know. I was suggesting it to someone else.” Her words were jumbled up at the end of the sentence, making sure Linda couldn’t hear it. Your cheeks flushed a bright red, feeling humiliated at this point. You cleared your throat and raised your hands to your cheeks, waiting for yourself to cool down.

A boy came around with what you had assumed was the chorus, handing it to everyone with a cheerful smile. Once he got to you, Polly, and Linda, Linda took one graciously and right when you were about to, Polly’s hand quickly snatched your wrist without even sparing a look at you, her tight grip taking you by surprise.

“Some of us know the words.” Polly firmly stated, looking down at the boy as if he was a peasant. You gave him an apologetic smile, submitting to Polly silently by not taking the paper. He walked away quickly, leaving you to finally release the breath you were holding in. Before you could even say a word, music had started playing, and Grace had arrived.

Seconds later, Grace with General Curran were walking down the aisle, everyone at this point silent except the chorus. Her veil was over her face, the purple satin dress dragging behind her elegantly. Your hands were clasped and a small smile graced your features, unaware of the fact that Polly was gazing down at you with adoration still, not a care in the world for Grace.

Vows were exchanged quickly and the knot was tied with a final kiss, one side of the room erupting with clapping and booming cheers, whilst the opposite was quiet and ever so elegantly clapping their hands. Polly slowly clapped, watching them turn back to you with not the most enthusiastic looks ever, but satisfied as Thomas raised his fist in the air like he had victory.

“Part one is done.” You said, adjusting your ring. “Now it’s the actual wedding.”

First part of the actual wedding was the annual Shelby and Burgess family photograph to be taken. Now, this was a tough part, you didn’t feel appropriately included in the picture since you weren’t a Shelby, awkwardly hugging yourself for warmth as you stood back, judgingly watching the four girls fight over a bloody bouquet.

“Oi! Y/n! The fuck are you doin’?” Arthur shouted, obviously confused which had made you even more confused.

“I’m not a Shelby. Not family, Arthur. Take the picture.” You shouted back through the wind, wincing at the chill that was sent up your spine.

“Oi, are you fuckin’ joking? Get up here!” John called out, waving his hand.

“John, I-”

Thomas cleared his throat, “Y/n, get the fuck in the picture before I have Arthur drag you up here.” He stated as if he was tired from the day already. You widen your eyes before huffing, stepping up the stairs and going to the Shelby side. “With the wives.”

Polly watched as you squished yourself beside her, Linda and Esme behind you both. You huffed once again, putting your hair behind your ears before the picture was taken. Arthur then stood beside you now, leaving you squished between Arthur and Polly. You couldn’t deny it was nice, they were both warm. He put his arm around your shoulder, “Alright! Take the photograph!” He shouted, an automatic smile tugging at your lips. The light flashed instantly, though, another type of chill was sent up your spine at this point. One even Polly could feel. 

You all stepped off as Grace began to enter the carriage, and your eyes met Tommy’s. He stared at you for only a couple seconds, cocking his head to the right before getting into the carriage with her. You looked, and you didn’t know who you were looking at, you just knew it wasn’t good.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

“What the fuck do you mean the bloody Russians are here, Tommy?!” You paced in front of his desk, your voice almost a cry. 

“Refugee.” He corrected, his voice gruff. “Apparently.”

“Like I give a fuck! This is your bloody wedding day! What- what will you tell Grace? Hm? What will you tell her if-”

He sighed, pinching his nose. “I’ll tell her the truth. I just need you to keep an eye on things, because this is my fucking wedding day, and I have to spend time with my wife.” Your eyes rolled at his words, frustrated you now had this responsibility. “Don’t go around telling fucking Polly, or Arthur, or John about this until needed. You understand?” he pointed his finger at you, narrowing his eyes.

Your arms folded across your chest, squinting your eyes at him. “So what am I supposed to say when it’s obvious I’m so panicked?”

“That you’re fucking afraid you’ll never get married, something along those stupid fuckin’ lines. Point is, it is my bloody job.” He rose from his seat, pacing around the desk, and leaned slightly over you as his finger made contact with your chest with each emphasized word.“Stay fucking quiet, yeah? Nothing will happen.”

Scoffing, you retorted. “That’s what you always say. You always say nothing will happen. You always promise that nothing will go wrong. You always-” Before you could finish your sentence, his hand gripped the back of your jaw firmly, swiftly tilting your head up toward him, a gesture reminiscent of a whore getting forced to give a blowjob. No, it wasn't an appealing situation.

His face inched closer to yours, huffing. “Nothing. Will. Fucking. Happen.” The words emerged from his mouth with a coarse and irritated tone. He released your jaw moments later and then exited the room in a rush, leaving you feeling frustrated, nearly on the brink of tears, and seething with anger. Your fingertips soothed the irritated skin where he had gripped you, and you took deep breaths, determined not to ruin your makeup.

After taking minutes to yourself, you walked out of the office and into the bustling rooms full of music and dancing and alcohol, hoping to god you didn’t look bad. You pushed through crowds, feeling overwhelmed from everything going on and having to keep a lookout for god knows what.

All the men were being called downstairs, so the crowds were getting smaller, to your luck. You rushed to where alcohol was being served and gave yourself a generous amount, chugging all of it in one go. You gave smiles to everyone who passed, the only concerns in your mind was keep your dress clean and to make sure nothing happened. No fights, no bets, no cocaine, no prostitution. Now you realised, you were literally fucking security. Just glamourised.

At least you looked absolutely gorgeous.

“Y/n!” Ada chirped, her arms coming to your side and squeezing you tightly. “God, I haven’t seen you in awhile! You look lovely! A little skinnier, quite actually.”

The laugh that elicited from your lips was light and genuine, your arms going to wrap around her as well. “Tell me about it,  I’ve missed you. Tommy practically holds me hostage here.” You joked, laying a kiss on her cheek after she backed away.

“I pity you. He’s my own brother and I couldn’t even do that. Pity and admire you.” Her eyes went to the sapphire clips in your hair, her eyebrows slowly raising in curiosity. “Now I know you’d never spoil yourself like this.”

You looked around you before drawing closer to Ada, murmuring. “Grace gave them to me.” The smile that came onto her face was almost mischievous, your eyes filling with slight fear. “Do not dare to even mention this to Polly. I’ll get the most passive aggressive talk of my life.”

“So you’re fond of Grace?”

“I talked to her. She knows I dislike her, but I gave her my reasoning to why I’m not like Polly. Tommy is happy, and if she makes him happy, I’m not gonna be a cunt. Polly is valid, of course, for her feelings.”

“Aw, someone wants to make Polly happy.” Ada grinned as you side eyed her, getting a bit flustered. “I’ll make sure she has no eye on any man tonight.”

“Shut up, Ada.” You muttered, crossing your arms over your chest. “I gotta let it pass.”

“It’s been like this for four years. Now I may not be the most clever, but I do not think that is an option anymore.” Ada sighed, peering at you with a little pity. “How much do you love her, Y/n?”

The question made your head jerk at her, shaking your head from left to right. “I refuse to answer this here, Ada. I don’t want anyone knowing. I didn’t even want you to know cause I’m afraid.” 

Ada frowned, her hand coming to your hair. “Why would you be afraid of me? I’m literally Ada fucking Thorne.” She said as if the statement was obvious and would change everything. You rolled your eyes and smacked your lips, getting another serving of alcohol.

“Just, don’t say a word to Pol. Please, Ada.” Ada compiled by using her two fingers to mimic zipping her lips up, taking a sip of her drink afterwards. You huffed before looking around, furrowing your eyebrows at the sight of Polly being obviously disturbed. 

She made eye contact with you, speeding over to you with fake smiles to everyone else. Ada watched the scene as she did, Polly’s hand immediately placed on your shoulder as she leaned in close to your ear. "Știți de cei care nu sunt pe listă?"

Your breath hitched, discovering something inside of you when she spoke Romani. You didn’t know what it was, well, you did. The way her warm breath fanned your neck and her gravelly accent made you a mess, stammering for such a simple reply.

“N-no.” You denied knowing, trying your absolute best to lie. Ada watched the scene with a snarky grin as she stared in amusement. 

Polly hummed, pulling away from you and squeezing your shoulder. “We’ll see about that.”

A couple of hours passed, and you found yourselves gathered in the dining room, a medley of conversations filling the air. Sitting beside Ada, you listened as she delved into politics with an evident passion, a reassuring sight. However, across the table, the expressions were a mix of disinterest and utter interest at Ada's discourse. You nodded along mindlessly before realising your drink was now empty, “Excuse me for a moment.” You smiled at everyone, glaring at the refugee who sat across from you. No, it was not an invitation for him to follow you, yet he did subtly. You took your glass and made your way to the next room, beginning to pour some whiskey into it.

“I have yet to introduce myself,” The voice made you freeze, cursing to yourself as you turned around. “I-”

“I know who you are, Mr. Kaledin. Very well so.” You cut him off, glaring at him from below. “What do you want from me? I’m not in the mood for flirtatious traps.” 

He was caught off guard, a quiet chuckle left his lips before returning his gaze to you, “You know, where I come from, ladies have manners. Russia. They introduce themselves elegantly.” He reminded you of where he was from, talking to you like you were some sort of moron.

You couldn’t help but laugh, your head jerking to glance at him, “Oh, you’d like to talk of manners, eh? Hm?” You taunted, your glare now as sharp and threatening as a knife. His lips pursed as you began to speak. “Well, if we’re on that topic, I don’t think it’s very mannerly, or appropriate, or fucking smart to crash Thomas’s wedding day, to talk about business. Where I come from, people don’t ruin weddings to talk about fucking business, because it’s fucking human decency. But I guess you Russians lack that bloody simple decency, yes?” Your voice was extremely condescending towards the end. “Elegance currently isn’t my main concern. My main concern is you horrendous bastards ruining Tommy’s special day. Especially you, Mr. Kaledin.”

He studied you as you filled your cup with even more whiskey, licking his lips, “Where are you from?”

“France. Bagnères de Luchon.” You turned around, your back facing him. You observed him through the mirror, smiling to yourself. “You know, there's a certain saying we have in France, Anton. Comme on fait son lit, on se couche…I think you may relate to it later tonight.”

A chuckle elicited from his throat, “And what must that mean?” 

An amused, tiny smile tugged at your lips, swirling the amber liquid in your glass as you turned around to face him. “Comme on fait son lit, on se couche, means, figuratively speaking, you will take the responsibility for your actions, and deal with the consequences. As one makes one's bed, one lies down.” Emphasising each word with your fingers, you could hear how he slightly gulped, a quiet giggle escaping your lips, a faux look of innocence taking over your eyes.

 He stared at you, processing the explanation. You studied him for a bit longer before beginning to step away, laying your hand on his shoulder and whispering ever so softly,, “And you, my friend, have made your bed. And I assure you, Mr. Kaledin, you will be lying in it by the end of this glorious night.”

As you finally stepped away with a now, frustrated yet victorious  demeanour, Ada and Polly were peering at you as you entered the dining room, Kaledin bashfully following from behind. Your dress flowed elegantly behind you as you sat down, Polly leaning back in her chair to watch you and Ada already staring at you. Polly’s glare was cut off by Kaledin trying with her now, which you had tuned out.

“What did you say to the poor man? He was ten times paler than he was before.” Now, Ada had no clue what was happening, nor did you want her to know. You turned to look at her, attempting to muster up some sort of convincing excuse.

“He attempted to flirt with me and I shut it down with..class..and I guess he has never had a woman stand up to him before…yeah.” 

Ada squinted her eyes towards you, her lips in a thin line as she processed the explanation. You gulped down your whiskey, praying to every god that she’d just believe it. Ada hummed, shrugging her shoulders. “So he is making his rounds to Polly?”

You rolled your eyes, groaning. “Don’t even. I can’t handle more stress than I already have. I don’t need to strangle myself with the thought of her dating a man and me having to see it.” 

“Four.” Lizzie whispered as she passed by swiftly, leaving you utterly confused, your mouth open to ask her what she meant, yet she was too quick.. You glanced at Ada for an explanation.

She stammered, not wanting to stress you out more. “Um..four..men are giving Polly the..eye.” She offered her full glass of whiskey to you, pouring some in your glass as you obviously did indeed get more stressed. Your fists clenched and tears burned at your eyes, wanting to just pass out at this point and fall asleep for a week straight in your alluring new bedroom. “It doesn’t mean she’ll fuck them. It’s Polly we’re talking about.”

“How does she notice them but for four years she doesn’t notice me at all? Am I invisible, Ada? Is that what it is? Does she not like me?” Your voice cracked, almost inaudible so Polly wouldn’t hear, no one for that matter. Ada shook her head from left to right.

“She adores you. Stop worrying so much. You’re going to start getting grey hairs.”

“Oh, god no!” You almost shouted, Ada laughing at your reaction as your hands flew to your scalp. “I’m too young!”

Finally, Grace and Tommy strode in, Arthur following from behind. You sighed in relief, muttering to Ada, “Grace let me know they’re trying for a girl..but I didn’t think during their fucking wedding.” Ada put her hand over her mouth, the whole table seeing the two of you like the giggly schoolgirls who were gossiping.

“Thank you all for coming, sorry we are late.” Thomas spoke with a cigarette hanging from his mouth, Grace sat next to him as he stood. “Now, I wanted to give my toast to my..lovely wife..” ….And this is where you took your chance to close your eyes and just have a tiny bit of relaxation, the tiniest bit. It was just the speech to Grace, nothing to miss-

“To the Bride!” 

Jerking up, you immediately grabbed your glass and stood up, muttering the same words. Tommy stared at you as he noticed you were technically sleeping throughout the short speech, rolling his eyes. You sat back down, adjusting your posture and making sure to not fall into another short slumber.

Tommy cleared his throat, looking nervous. “According to..tradition..my best man will say a few words.” And with that sentence, you immediately knew why Tommy was nervous. You were absolutely awake now, waiting to see this. 

“Go on, here he goes! Go on, Arthur!” John cheered, clapping his hands. Arthur gave a shy wave of his hands, and you were already smiling at what was already happening.

“I’d like to..erm..I’m not one for speeches-”

“Sing then!”

“I will later, John.” He murmured, and his stance was as if he was asking his mother for something from the shops and he was excited yet nervous for her response. You took out a cigarette and lit it, blocking the smoke from Ada’s face with your hand. “But, er, I do, er, I do have some words written down here..on this piece of paper. This doesn’t include everything I want to say-”

“Arthur just, just read what we wrote down, eh?” You had to bite down on your lip as you took a sip of your whiskey, making eye contact with Thomas who looked incredibly annoyed. “Come on now.”

“I will, Tom, I will. But uh…first…a few words from..from the heart.” Thomas dropped his head in defeat, Grace comforting him by rubbing his shoulder.

“Oh my god.” You whispered to yourself, Ada pinching your shoulder in response.

Arthur cleared his throat, “Um..this man here, my brother Tommy, help me survive through some of the worst times-” Thomas coughed loudly and you couldn’t contain yourself much longer, covering your mouth.

“It’s a wedding, Arthur, tell a joke.” Michael flatly said, clearly bored.

John agreed, “Yeah, tell a joke!” 

Arthur continued on nonetheless, “What I’m trying to say is that..my brother and the love of a good woman pulled me through that,” He glanced at Linda as she smiled happily at her important mention, making you roll your eyes. “Now, Tommy also, er, has the love of a good woman. Her name is Grace..like the grace of the good lord..and even though, the circumstances of the union was tragic-”

Your laugh released itself, immediately covering your mouth back up as you sunk in your chair, not even caring at everyone looking at you. This was probably the most you had laughed in awhile, Ada giggling a bit with you as well. Tommy took over the..speech..”Let’s raise a toast, eh? To- to love, peace, to marriage.”

“Fan-fantastic job Arthur, you did..it was poetic.” You complimented, trying to reassure the obvious humiliated man. You looked to your right to see Polly leaning back in her chair, glaring at you. That made you giggle even more, mouthing a fake apology.

Arthur walked away, Linda and Thomas following him. Now you could really laugh, literal tears coming to your eyes. “Jesus, Y/n!”

“I’m sorry! That- oh my god! He brought up the union Ada, the union! In a wedding speech! A bloody toast! The union wasn’t tragic, that speech was!” Ada practically spat out her drink, covering her mouth as well now too. 

“Stop. Stop. Oh my god.” Ada choked, taking a deep breath. You giggled one last time, saying a prayer under your breath so you wouldn’t go to hell for bloody…you didn’t even know.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

“I thought I did good.”

“Oh, you-” You didn’t want to lie to the man, sighing. “Arthur, you know Tommy isn’t all sentimental like that. It would’ve been fantastic if it were for Ada or Curly. And, Art, I love you so fucking much, but why did you bring up the union? What- what reason?”

He grumbled, “Linda said confronting our souls with the tragedies in our past set us for eternal peace with ourselves..thought that’d help Tommy.” He looked down shamefully, and you were trying again not to giggle. “I thought speaking from the heart would bring- bring some peace to this night, hmm?”

Taking a deep breath, you sadly smiled at him, nodding. “I know. I know. Linda is uh, really..influential, hm?”

“Yes. But it’s for the better.” He stared at the his hands and you laid your hand on his cheek, turning his gaze to you.

���You had good intentions, Art. I’m proud of you for trying.”

“Thank you.” He shyly appreciated it, smiling. “Now, you go have fun. I’ll be outside.”

“I’ll try.”

With one last smile, you walked out of the hallway and into the bustling party, looking for anyone you clearly knew. You picked up another glass of alcohol, saying a prayer to your liver before taking a sip of it.

After a few minutes of looking, you felt your heart slightly drop at the sight of, as you assumed, one of the men that was eyeing her up, and Polly talking. Jealousy consumed you quicker than ever, feeling rage to yourself. To the stupid man. Tears brimmed at your eyes at how bad the envious feeling was, and you couldn’t help but stare in absolute despair, watching her be so happy with someone else. You wanted to almost die at that moment, your brain going at lightning speed to the worst conclusions that he would replace you instantly or any hope you had left would vanish.

“Can I talk to you?” A gruff voice alerted you, “Privately.”

A sigh left your lips when you heard Thomas. “If you don’t wound me, yes.” You replied back snarky, taking a small sip of your champagne. He murmured an agreement, turning your head to look at him and nodding your head. 

Thomas led you into a secluded hallway, leaning against the wall opposite of you and pulling out two cigarettes. He handed you one, putting his lighter in between the two of you so you could light each of your own. He sucked in a breath before speaking, the smoke fading into the air. “Mr. Kaledin is a red.”

You furrowed your eyebrows, your eyes squinting in utter confusion. “I thought we were paying the Whites?”

“Exactly. Anton, is most likely not Anton. Mr. Kaledin, who was supposed to be given the money, has most likely been killed by the Soviet government, and now their spy is pretending to be him for the cash.” He said frustratingly, leaning his head against the wall. “He told me that Duchess Tatiana Petronova will be bringing us the ten thousand U.S dollars, in crisp cash. Supposed to be from Mr. Churchill.”

“Tatiana?” You questioned. “..The niece of Duke Leon Petrovich Romanov?”

“Bingo.” He replied flatly, unenthusiastically snapping his fingers. “Including him, and his wife, Izabella.”

“Oh, how gracious.” You took a drag of your cigarette, “Did they have to leave Russia because of Stalin?”

“Yes.” He said, almost proud of you which was odd. “They’re here..to gain power. The Bolshevik’s, the Reds, have much more. They need weapons. And the new power trip the Bolshevik government has is the Red Terror.” Thomas emphasised the name with his eyes widening, his tone a little louder. “So, the Whites needed to evacuate immediately, which is why the Royals have made their way into safe haven London. Away from any communists who threaten them and their safety.” 

“So the Aristocrats need weapons to fight the reds,” You glanced at Tommy, “And Mr. Churchill is helping..us? Fight the Reds?” He hummed, studying you. “And Mr. Kaledin is part of the communist Bolsheviks?” He hummed again. “So basically, death for him. Tatiana gives us the money forwarded from Churchill. And now we are involved with the aftermath of the Russian Revolution.”

“Atta girl.” He gave you a fake smile. “With the cash we receive tonight, as I’ve told you-”

“You’re purchasing the wharves at the Boston wharfs for more business.”

He nodded, “If this all goes smoothly. I’ve told Grace, she didn’t react too badly.”

“Ah, I’m so happy for you.” You sarcastically stated, folding your arms across your chest. “Tommy, is there anything else or can I go enjoy myself a while longer?”

A long pause happened between the both of you before he nodded, “Yes. Just make sure no trouble happens, yeah?”

“Mhm.” You began to walk away, smoking the last of your cigarette. “All my luck, Tommy.”

Now, finally walking away, you sighed in relief. Not too much relief, since you knew murder and fights were going on currently and this was supposed to be a peaceful day, but some. 

You sat down on a nearby loveseat, the fire behind you sending a delightful chill up your spine as a sense of warmth took over your body. You stared at the ground, not in too much of a mood to go socialise with others, nor did you want to stand up again and walk for no reason with how sore you already were. Your free hand smoothed over your satin dress, the other holding the burnt out cigarette. You felt lost on what to do in that moment, drained over Polly and what was going on around you.

Familiar footsteps had raised your awareness as they became louder and louder the close they got. Still, you didn’t look up from the floor until you recognised the two heels that came into your vision, feeling the space next to you dip as they sat down. You gulped, feeling their tense aura immediately.

“You’ve barely spoken to me, you know.”

Polly was trying to get her mind off the whole situation and put it on another one. You. She watched your nervous demeanour as you looked up with wide eyes, as if you were clueless to what she was speaking of.

“Pardon?”

“This whole day, you’ve barely said a word to me. I’ve caught you staring, but you haven’t spoken to me.” Now your cheeks turned slightly red, heart dropping at her words. 

You cleared your throat, fiddling with your fingers. “I really didn’t think you’d even notice me with all these men.” You mumbled extremely quietly, to the point where even Polly could barely hear you. She did, studying you, her eyebrow raising at your disappointed tone and frown, and the way you couldn’t even look her way. 

Polly took a drag of her cigarette, leaning back and using her arm as a support. “Are you..jealous?”

Now, your heart really dropped. You looked at her quickly, stammering for an answer that wasn’t the truth. “Um, no. N-not at all. I just..uh..didn’t want to distract you from all the..handsome men..that were eyeing you.” When you said handsome, you felt a pang in your heart while saying it. You literally winced. 

“You’re jealous.”

“Polly. Why would I be jealous?”

“That’s my exact wonder.” she retorted, her tone carrying a hint of allurement. “‘Why would sweet, precious Y/n be jealous that I’m being eyed up?’ has been my wonder this whole evening. I can see it in your pretty eyes, sweetheart. I’m not blind.” She watched as your face get redder and redder, a satisfied smirk tugging at her scarlet lips. Her hand laid on your knee as she leaned in, “No one can lie to me, sweet girl.”

“Stop it, Polly.” You murmured, looking to the other side now, trying to cool down your fluster. “I’m not- I wasn’t- I was never jealous.”

Polly hummed, “Look me in the eye and say it.”

“Why are you so intrigued with me being jealous, Pol?” You asked mindlessly, hearing her click her tongue made you cross your legs automatically, realising what you had just said.

Polly smiled, “So the sweet girl is jealous?”

“Don’t you have like..a bunch of men to go and talk to?” You grumbled, embarrassed. Polly laughed, using her hand to make you look at her by placing it on your cheek, turning your head slightly forcefully.

“The only person I want to talk to is you.” Her smile had faltered, replaced by a solemn expression that caught your immediate attention. Gazing at Polly through weary eyes, your lips involuntarily parted as you let out a quiet sigh. You were lost at what to say, knowing nothing of what you felt was right or appropriate. You didn’t know if Polly was just trying to get it out of you with the flirtatious act, or play with your feelings. You didn’t know anything really when it came to her, all logic and standards flying out the window while in her beloved presence. She could see the hesitation and almost dread as you thought.

“I really don’t see why, Polly.” you managed, the words stumbling from your lips.

She paused, a frown gracing her features. 

Quietly observing you, she finally murmured, "What must I do to help you see why, Y/n?"

The mental anguish nearly prompted a whimper, the answer eluding you in its complexity. Succumbing to defeat, you gazed at her with vulnerable eyes.

Abruptly, a man appeared before you both, clearing his throat and offering a smile. Meeting his gaze, you reciprocate the gesture, while Polly's demeanour remains fixed in an unamused glare.

"It appears the two of you are unaccompanied... Would either of you care for a dance? Perhaps at the same time?" His wink was accompanied by an unsettling grin that made you cringe. You recognised the implication extended beyond mere dancing. "I must say, I am quite the cha-”

“We’re not interested.” Polly cut him off with an annoyed tone. “Please be kind enough to step away, as we were having a conversation.” Polly didn’t sound too kind, her glare even scaring you a bit. It was the exact one she gave the boy in the church, almost degrading. 

He scoffed, “I think the pretty one over here can answer the question for herself. Don’t you wanna dance with a man like me? You don’t need any woman sayin’ no for you, you know that.” 

A sense of fear hazed your eyes, stuttering for an answer. “It’s a no for me, I’m-”

“Now you’re just saying that for her. Come on, just one dance, princess.” He didn’t stop his offerings, so forceful that it made you want to run away. Your eyes hazed with fear as you looked over at Polly desperately for help, for which she complied. She laid her hand on your knee, clearing her throat with a devilish smile.

“Listen to me,” She began, “If you don’t leave in a matter of three seconds, I will be sure to have you cut. The Shelby men are busy enough, but I’m sure they wouldn’t mind dealing with another man whore.”

The man gulped, his eyes wide. He didn’t say another word, backing away immediately and losing himself into the crowds. A melodious chuckle danced in Polly's breath, “And there he goes.”

“Thank you.” You murmured in a relieved breath. “I’m sorry for needing your help.”

“Don’t be.” Polly lit another cigarette for herself. “We women stick together. I’ll never let you get taken advantage of, Y/n. I swear.”

You smiled sadly, cocking your head to the side. “You never swear.” 

Polly glanced up at you, smoke leaving her scarlet lips. “I do now.”

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

“Oh, it’s so clear. She loves you.”

“Shut up, Ada. It can’t be. Don’t bloody enable me.” 

Hours later, you were in your bedroom again but now in comfortable clothing. You sat on your bed and Ada sat across from you, and Charlie was sleeping peacefully next to you, snug and clung to your waist.

The talk of Polly and you had come up again somehow and you had brought up the last conversation you had with Polly, and now you were here. In bed as Ada enabled the delusion of Polly ever possibly being in love with you. 

“Y/n, I have known my aunt Polly my whole life, and by what you’re telling me, she most definitely loves you.” She shoved a chocolate in her mouth, “You have to tell me what queer sex is like.”

“Oh, Jesus Christ, Ada!” You burned up and put your face in your hands, hearing Ada giggle. “Ada she- my god, I haven’t even thought about us being together, let alone fucking.” You looked back up at her, “She probably isn’t even attracted to me.”

Ada chewed the chocolate fully, “You’re absolutely gorgeous. You know what’s surprised me all these years?”

“Hm?”

“How Tommy hasn’t begged or tried to fuck you. I mean, look at you! He goes for a betrayer but not the one who saved his bloody life?!” Ada being fascinated with your sex life was one of the many firsts. And now she was talking of her brother in this, which had fascinated you even more. “Speaking of, have you even had sex?”

“How many drinks did you have again?” You countered, taking a chocolate and biting into it. She tilted her head, making you roll your eyes and sigh heavily. “No..it’s pathetic, I know.”

Ada shrugged, “It’s okay, Polly has lots of experience. She won’t mind being your first.” The casual statement made you groan, shaking your head from side to side.

“Ada, she-”

“Listen to me.” Ada’s voice turned firm, causing you to immediately fall silent. “I know my aunt better than bloody you, and I know that look in her eyes when she looks at you. I saw you two on that loveseat tonight, and the way she looks at you. It’s so full of…love, and adoration. I’ve never seen her more intrigued with someone except you. And, Polly isn’t blind. If I can see how flustered you get when she’s here, she most definitely can too.”

Your gaze lowered to the blankets, and you began to utter a response. "But what about all those other men?"

"They pale in comparison to you, Y/n. You're a bloody Peaky Blinder. No man can hold a candle to you." A radiant smile graced your lips as she spoke, instilling a renewed sense of self-assurance within you. She paused, her hand finding yours, offering a reassuring squeeze while flashing a supportive smile. "You'll find your way through this." She glanced sideways. "And if I'm proven right, I expect five quid."

"You Shelby lot, always so bloody confident."

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

“Right..this..might be slightly uncomfortable.” 

The next morning found you wide awake and alert, as you received the call to discreetly transfer the previous night's earnings to the secure vault in the betting shop. Little did you realise how early it was, which left you drained and fatigued. You found yourself leaning against your dresser, on the brink of exhaustion, while Polly carefully dressed you with wads of cash, stuffing it in every crevice and secure place. You wished you were being stuffed some other w-

"You know, four years back, I could never have imagined standing here, getting dressed with three thousand United States dollars," Polly mused with a chuckle, slipping yet another bundle of cash into the belt cinched around your waist. "From nurse to gangster..a remarkable character development, eh?"

Polly hummed, her tone reflecting her amusement. "It's a drastic change. Yet, I'm truly glad to have you here with us. It's hard to picture it any other way." Handing you three stacks of bills, she added, "Now, be a good girl for me and put those into your garters." She paused, a mischievous glint in her eyes as she looked up at you after a beat, her fingers teasingly tracing up your leg. "Unless, of course, you'd prefer me to take care of that?"

The way your breath hitched and your eyes grew wider made Polly’s smirk grow, an ache between your thighs forming at the bold offer or..flirt. This had to be more than flirting. Her eyes stared into yours as you stammered for an answer, making it clear you had never really been flirted with.

“I’m, I- I can do it myself, t-thank you.” You took the cash from her and hiked your dress all the way up to your upper thigh, putting the cash in and dropping the fabric down. Polly chuckled before continuing to put the cash on you, watching as you finally began to compose yourself. 

Polly finally finished, the cash she was carrying already under her light blue trench coat. You both chatted some more before separating, you going to Arthur and Polly going to Tommy.

“Morning, darling.” You greeted, getting into the car.

"Morning," Arthur grumbled, his eyes following as you somewhat awkwardly manoeuvred yourself into the car, the money sticking to you and making the entry a bit more challenging than usual. His foul mood was palpable, casting a shadow that was hard to ignore.

Once he began driving, conversation flowed from your lips. "So, how did things go last night, Arthur?"

For a minute or two, he kept his silence, his gaze locked onto the road ahead. You patiently awaited his response, your gaze fixed on him. With a deep inhale, he finally spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. "He's dead."

"I figured as much," you responded thoughtfully. "But how are you, Art? That's what I really want to know."

Again, Arthur fell into a contemplative pause, his emotions seeming to wrestle within him. Your heart ached at the sight of his obvious grief. He sighed heavily, words escaping his lips laden with vulnerability. "I... I don't feel right," he mumbled, his voice cracking. "He..he kept pleading 'for the love of God' in his final seconds, and I... I feel like I've lost the love of... God." He continued, his voice trembling, "If Linda found out, she'd probably hate me."

“Hold on," you interjected, raising a finger. "He said 'For the love of God'?"

"Twice," Arthur winced, his grip on the steering wheel betraying the emotional torment he was grappling with. "All for the sake of business..."

You didn't intend to exacerbate the situation, but Arthur's incredulous expression prompted you to speak. His gaze shifted to you as he sensed your unease. With a tense posture, you sat upright, your eyes darting around, and your hand hovering near your mouth. "What's the bloody matter?" he asked, concerned.

"It's nothing," you assured him.

"Golden, I swear to fuck, if you don’t bloody tell me-," he pressed, his gaze on the road.

"Just promise you won't get angry," you asserted, your attention remaining fixed on the road ahead. He agreed with a nod and extended his hand for a reassuring shake. You obliged, your reluctance to meet his eyes evident. You stuttered, "Um... the Bolsheviks, the Reds... they don't... believe in God." A few seconds of silence hung in the air. "And I'm not sure if Mr. Kaledin would maintain that act in his final moments."

Arthur's breathing grew heavy, and you found yourself instinctively drawing closer to the car door. "You can't get angry, Arthur! You shook on it!”

He cleared his throat, “Thank you for telling me.”

The calm appreciation wasn’t normal. You stared at him, still hugging the car door. “Golden, I really hope you fuckin’ know I’d never hurt ya’, right?”

“Um.” You said, “Yeah..yeah.” 

“None of us Shelby men would ever dare to hit ya’, and if one of them did, they’d have to deal with me.” He tapped your knee awkwardly. “And if they ain’t a Shelby, they’re dead.”

You laughed, touching the sides of your neck to see if bruises formed. They indeed did, making you wince when you even lightly touched them.

An hour later and you were back in Small Heath in front of the betting shop. You got yourself out of the car and made your way into the shop, greeting various men and shaking various hands as you tried to rush to the back as fast as you could. There, you met Polly and Thomas, and they both looked at you.

“Hi,” You softly greeted, untying your coat as you stepped into the vault. You silently started taking money out from your belt, stacking them along with the other wads of cash. “I think this was the most expensive outfit I’ve ever worn.”

“Yup.” Thomas said with a cigarette in his mouth, “I have to go to London. If you need a ride back to Warwickshire, let Arthur know.” Thomas left the vault with a nod, leaving you and Polly alone.

“I gotta tell you something when you get back. Or Arthur will let you know.” You shouted when he was on his way out, continuing putting the cash away with a shrug. He mumbled something you could barely understand in response.

“And that is?” Polly questioned, fixing her gloves.

“Nothing for you to worry of.” You quipped back, humming to yourself as you put the cash away safely.

Polly scoffed, glaring at you. You could practically feel the glare burning through you. “I have the fucking senior position in this company. I have kept this fucking business and gang alive. I’m the one who has been here much, much longer than you, sweetheart.” She stated in a gravelly voice condescendingly. You ignored her gaze, knowing superiority wasn’t your goal here. “Look at me.”

You sighed and looked at her, she smiled, leaning in while not breaking eye contact. “No one gets to refuse to tell me something. Not even you.” She whispered, “So, if I were you, darling, I’d tell me what you’re up to before I get it out of you myself.”

“It’s nothing serious, Pol-”

“I’ll give you three seconds before I do something you won’t enjoy.”

Oh.

You remained frozen, like a startled deer, when faced with the threat, choosing not to challenge her. "It seems, from the info I have gathered,  Arthur might have killed a Russian refugee instead of a Bolshevik, as we initially believed," you conceded.

Polly stared at you for a moment with a satisfied smile, clicking her tongue as she looked you up and down. “How’d you find that out?”

“Arthur spoke to me," you explained, your accent subtly surfacing. "He mentioned Anton uttering 'For the Love of God' in his final moments… Bolsheviks reject the concept of God and dismiss all religions as rubbish. They subject priests and religious followers to torture, aiming to crush any hope of salvation from the revolution. It's truly harrowing," you sighed, "but that's the Bolshevik modus operandi. Frankly, I don't believe the man from last night adhered to their ideology."

Polly processed your words as you spoke effortlessly while continuing to count the money. She drew in a breath and complimented, "You're quite clever,  you know?"

You chuckled softly, "Just fulfilling my role, Pol. Some of it's common knowledge too." You met her gaze and added, "But I appreciate your kind words."

"Understood," she murmured as you stored the final stack of cash, observing as you clapped your hands and fastened your trench coat. "Where will you be heading after this?"

"Probably back home... why do you ask?"

"No particular reason," Polly replied with a hint of amusement, playfully beginning to close the vault. You hurried out of the room, rolling your eyes at her antics before making your exit through the betting shop's door.