#not even a full day. but today's felt like a hundred years long......

[veshialles]

nvm i understand fuck all actually

[obssessivethorn]

Yuu Makes Constant References No One Else Gets

Since I started playing Twst Wonderland, I can’t help but imagine Yuu starting out by constantly making references to pop culture and memes from their world only to realize midway through that no one else around them will understand it 

Just imagine: 

In the early stages of the game, Yuu starts to gradually feel more comfortable around their friends, mainly Ace, Deuce, and Grim

At first, they slowly start to feel at home again 

They’d begin loosening up and speaking more like how they would in their home world 

In this case, that means more references and obscure humor 

Especially if we’re basing Yuu’s home world on our current day world

There are so many intricate inside jokes on the internet that wouldn’t make an ounce of sense to anyone who has never been exposed to that kind of environment like we have 

So, when Yuu first made an obscure reference in a conversation with the Single Braincell Gang™, they fall back into their closed off space

Because they’re not from here 

They have a whole other world to get back to 

If they can even get back to it 

And while Ace and Deuce may not be the brightest, the two had gotten to know Yuu enough to know that something was off with them. They just couldn’t place what

After the first few slip ups, Yuu had started talking less and less

They started letting Grim speak for the both of them more often, only speaking when others addressed them or when it was about a topic concerning Twisted Wonderland

From an outside point of view, nothing seemed to have changed. They still hung out with the other first years, laughed and teased their friends, and regularly asked or answered questions in class

But those closer to the Ramshackle prefect could sense the hesitation whenever they were about to say something 

“You should have seen Crewel’s face when Deucey asked that question!” Ace recounted the event between fits of laughter.  Yuu sat with the other first years at their (unspokenly claimed) lunch table, happily chuckling at their boys’ antics. They held Grim in their lap, being used as his personal high-chair like usual, subconsciously running one of their hands through the monster’s soft fur and munching on their own sandwich with the other.  “I wouldn’t have asked such a stupid question if I wasn’t so tired from you keeping me up all night with your complaining about that test we have today!” Deuce retorted, grumpily taking another bite of his egg noodles. Though he looked away from his friends, the flustered blush on his cheeks was still easily seen by the group.  The prefect let out another giggle, “I swear, Crewel looked exactly like that one meme with the lady surrounded by all those different equations-!”  “Huh? Is that a new one I haven’t seen?” Epel asked, his head cocked to the side in question. Had it been any other situation, Yuu might have found it cute. But their embarrassment was too strong for any thought like that to surface.  “Ah-! Nevermind, sorry. It’s an old meme from my home world.” They let out an awkward laugh before looking down and stuffing another bite of their sandwich into their mouth. Their face felt hot and they wished for nothing more than the floor to open up and swallow them, never to be seen in Twisted Wonderland again.  “Y-yeah, and then Crewel assigned Juice like, a hundred more pages of homework to make sure he understood the topic!” Quickly, Ace diverted the others’ attention back to him, no doubt after sending a look of pity to the prefect.  “Hundre-! It was only ten!” Deuce exclaimed, mouth full of pasta.  Yuu could only mentally thank Ace for saving them from the piteous stares from the others. It was no secret that home was a sore subject for the prefect. Any time they spoke about it, their eyes would glaze over with nostalgic longing. Ace and Deuce would often ask them about traditions or cultures back in their world, both out of interest and because the two knew Yuu loved telling them about it. 

Other times, however, aren’t grim reminders of how Crowley isn’t actually looking for a way home

Instead, they have these little moments with themself where they make references to things from their home world as an inside joke

Even if they don’t understand, Yuu’s friends still notice the tiny smirks or held laughs on occasion

But they’d never say anything about it, because it’s obvious how the small joke grounds Yuu and comforts them with the familiarity 

“C’mon! We’re all in this together!” Yuu hastily spouted, trying to stop Ace from running away from his cleaning duties, again. Before Ace could even respond, the prefect immediately let out a bout of laughter and grabbed the boy’s arm, yanking him down the hall while humming a song he’d never heard before between occasional giggles.

Yuu starts recording Grim who is knocked out on their bed. Light snores come from the fluffball. Yuu is heard sniffling behind the camera. “Oh meow meow get up,” they croak. Their hand comes up to lightly shake Grim, stirring him awake and now very confused. “Oh shit meow meow, I thought you was dead-,” Yuu giggles out, further confusing a very dazed Grim

“C’mon, Yuu, the question’s not that bad!” Epel said in between laughs.  “Yeah, Yuu! It’s just three more of these!” Ace could barely get the words out as he slowly collapsed in silent laughter. He slid further down in the library chair he occupied, hand clasping his chest in an effort to breathe yet still remain quiet.  “No, I’ve had it! I am disgusted!” Yuu continued to furiously pack their materials. “I am revolted!” They fumble in closing their notebook and quickly give up, letting the papers crumple up as they shove it into their bag. “I dedicate my entire life to our lord and savior Jesus Christ, and this is the thanks I get?”  The rest of the first years watch as Yuu slings their bag over their shoulder and promptly makes their way out of the library. Ace practically gasps for air. Epel finds himself in a giggle fit, unable to stop. Deuce is a mixture of confusion, amusement, and horror while he very obviously is still processing what just happened. Sebek can only look surprised, unsure of how to proceed. And finally, Jack is just as surprised but is holding back his own chuckles that threaten to spill. 

“Ace, you idiot! There’s a ‘b’ in ‘subtle’.” Deuce scolded. “What?! Where’s the ‘b’?”  “There’s a bee?” Yuu’s quivering voice quietly broke the tension. “Yuu!”

“Whoa, Yuu, I honestly didn’t know you could do that!” Yuu looked at him with a deadpan expression bordering on offended. ”Do you think I fuck around?”  (definitely more obscure but if you understand this i love you) ((Hint: Brennen Lee Mulligan in a Game Changer episode))

Any g-note plays and Yuu’s eyes widen in recognition

“Floyd, Jamil, Ace. You guys gotta get your head in the game.” 

Whether you wish to view it as romantic or platonic, the fact in undeniable that the cast is weak to hearing and seeing Yuu ramble on about things back from their world, specifically the first years or Heartslabyul boys

I personally really like the headcannon that only really the Heartslabyul boys, and maybe the rest of the first years, are in on Yuu being from a different world. It makes certain moments hurt just a bit more with the idea of little to no one knowing that Yuu is meant to inevitably leave. But i digress

Yuu could just be reminded of their favorite dish back home or a song they were obsessed with when they were younger, but the way they talk about it is mesmerizing to the boys. Their eyes light up with an aching mixture of nostalgia, longing, and joy. Recounting old stories or stupid trends they participated in never fails to crack just the slightest bit of a smile on their lips. 

For some odd reason, the way they describe their home world feels like taking a sip of a warm drink on a cold winter day. Comforting in all the right ways. Warming you from the inside despite the harsh environment surrounding. 

Not only does Yuu make it all sound like a fantasy at times, which is technically true given it’s a different world/dimension, but they somehow give the boy a strange glimmer of hope too. Like they too will have a chance to visit and experience the same joys. Only, there’s no chance of that happening. Right? 

[feeder86]

The 1%

It had been such a thrill, finding that the scouts had picked him; those same experts who had signed up the likes of Harley Hawkinson and Carl Williams. Did they really see the same potential in Nicko as they had done in those superstar football players? It all felt so surreal as he got off the plane to Oklahoma and entered the training facility. 

Nicko knew it wouldn’t be easy to prove himself. He looked around the large sports hall, filled with over one hundred large, athletic college guys, all hoping for the same dream of a professional sports contract: to play the game that they loved and get paid handsomely for it.

“As you all know, the modern game of football is dominated by guys who are more muscular than we have ever seen before,” an older guy explained to them from the staging area during this first welcome meeting. “In the last three years, we have seen the average weight of a professional football player increase by 30lbs. And that number looks set to continue to increase.”

Looking around at the other guys, Nicko couldn’t help but understand why he was saying this. Sure, the guys around him were full of talent. How else would they have got here otherwise? But put them on a field with the professionals out there these days, and they would get trampled down in seconds. They all knew it. None of them had the muscle and the bulk that was needed to survive in a big league game.

“Our training scheme and medical support can give you that last hope of achieving your dreams,” the man on stage went on; selling the scheme which each of them had already signed up for. They all knew this was their only real shot at success. These days, no professional football player got anywhere without the experimental drugs offered in places like this; not that anyone would ever admit it outside of these walls. “So, my advice to you is, train hard and work with us… Now I’m going to hand you over to someone you will all be very familiar with. We’re so proud of him and delighted that he has given up his time to be with us today. Boys, please may I introduce you to… the one and only… Carl Williams!” he beamed, as the large room of excited college athletes roared into life.

An enormous, hulking mass of man began strutting from the door and onto the stage. He lifted his arm up, accepting all the applause and smiling from ear to ear. Every muscle on his body was pumped and full. Even his forearms looked incredibly developed. Nicko could hardly believe his eyes! His biggest celebrity crush, right here in the same room with him! Carl was known for playing rough and dirty on the field and, in Nicko’s wildest fantasies, he was much the same in the bedroom. Not to mention the fact that, in terms of celebrity bulges, Carl was off the charts. Every gay site he visited had picked up on the fact Carl was packing something absolutely enormous between those giant thighs. 

The man didn’t speak to them for long, but soon had everyone up on their feet, chanting his name. He stuck around too, and was there that evening as they sat down to their first meal together.

“They say he has some sort of sixth sense about which guys will go on to do well here,” Nicko’s new friend, Steve, whispered to him; both of them looking with jealousy at the six young guys who had been invited to sit on Carl’s table.

Nicko shook his head sceptically. “Nah, they’re just the loud ones who know how to sell themselves,” he scoffed, having met a couple of them and deciding that they were not the type of guys he would want to hang around with here; so pumped full of arrogance and self-importance. “We’ve just got to train hard, that’s all.”

Steve exhaled and raised his eyebrows. “I wish that was true,” he mumbled. “But we both know the only thing that sets this training academy apart from the rest is the drugs they use. You can train as hard as you like, but if the drugs disagree with you, that’s the end of the line. Career over.”

Nicko rubbed the spot where he’d had his first injection earlier that day; straight into the muscle at the top of his right butt cheek. ‘Please work!’ he thought silently. There was nothing more he wanted in life than to be up on that top table with Carl Williams.

During the first three weeks, some guys started to stand out remarkably well. Shoulders began to widen, whilst larger glutes and thighs made the training sessions more intense and physical than ever before. Nicko could see the changes in his roommate, Steve, each time he came out of the shower: his biceps bulging and his pecs pumped.

As for Nicko, he had seen only minor changes in his muscle mass, and he was yet to make any impression on the trainers. But as certain guys began to bulk faster, hit harder and dominate on the field, it became more and more of a challenge to stand out, or even stay on your feet.

Egos were beginning to run riot at the camp. Those guys who had quickly responded to the treatments began to strut about with more confidence and ownership of the place than any of them had expected. The larger guys hung out with each other more, sitting together at meal times and excluding those they obviously found inferior.

“Don’t worry,” Steve whispered to him as it was obvious that everything was getting to Nicko. “You’ll respond more to the drugs soon. You’ve just got to focus on the training. That’s the important part.”

Nicko nodded, knowing that Steve didn’t believe a word of what he was saying. In two weeks, they were making their first eliminations, and Steve knew he was heading straight home.

During the assessment, Steve very quickly got a sense of how badly it was going. He was weighed, prodded and poked to within an inch of his life; seeing the same grim faces on the medical professionals all around him. In the end, he was simply sent to a small room and told to wait there for someone to come and speak to him. The afternoon training session was to begin in thirty minutes, but no-one was in a rush to ensure he would make it. The reason for that was obvious: he wasn’t coming back. 

It was no shock to Nicko that he was in this position. The last week in particular had been especially hard. He’d been thrown around by the larger guys in training, beginning to understand how the nerds must have felt back in high school. At twenty-one years old, Nicko was in a place that was little better than a kindergarten playground.

Without warning, and making Nicko jump with surprise, the door suddenly opened and an enormous muscular man entered. It took a couple of seconds for Nicko to focus and recognise the person who was now filling the tiny room they were in, but when he did, he shot to his feet and held his arm out, desperate to shake the guy’s hand. “Carl Williams!” he blasted. “I can’t believe you’re here.”

Carl looked across at him with a smirk; his eyes travelling up and down Nicko’s body as he reached out his hand for him to shake. “So you’re Nicko, huh?” he asked, as if trying to hold back a laugh.

Nicko nodded, hardly believing that this meeting was even happening. Carl was even more insanely huge and attractive up close like this.

“Sit down, Nicko,” Carl ordered, grabbing a chair himself. “I need to break something to you.”

“I’m being kicked out, aren’t I?” Nicko shot back, not wanting to draw this out and ruin his one-on-one time with his biggest celebrity crush.

“Oh, of course you are,” Carl chuckled, seeming surprised that Nicko had only just figured it out. “But one of the boys told me you had a bit of a crush on me, so I thought I would come in here to soften the blow.”

Carl gazed at Nicko with a sly grin on his face. He knew that he had embarrassed him and he was enjoying the period of time when Nicko was squirming and desperately thinking of how to respond.

“Um, so… how come I’m going home?” he asked, trying to fill the cringing silence.

“Because you’ve not responded to the drugs the same as everyone else,” Carl shot back, looking at him as though he was stupid for not being able to see that for himself. 

“But there are a few guys who aren’t packing on muscle all that fast either,” Nicko protested.

“Oh, you’re right about that,” Carl nodded. “But you’ve not gained any muscle mass at all,” he stated harshly. “In fact, you’re part of the less than 1% who actually lose muscle mass on this treatment.”

“That’s not true,” Nicko protested. “I have gained weight since I’ve been here.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Carl laughed. “You’ve only gained fat since you started.” He pointed at the slight paunch that always popped out whenever Nicko was on a bulking diet. “All the guys can see that. I hear they’ve been giving you a rough time this week? The medical team spotted a nice collection of bruises on your body this morning.”

“Not too bad,” Nicko lied, not wanting to look pathetic in front of his idol.

Carl simply laughed as if he knew differently. “Sure, sure,” he nodded patronisingly. “Those guys are just learning; being on a football team is like being part of a pack of wolves. So when you see a little piggy on the field with you, you’ve got to go for them.”

Nicko’s eyes bulged at Carl’s rudeness. But the professional athlete simply smiled at him, as if daring him to call him out on his comments. Then, when Nicko kept quiet, the big man nodded in approval.

“I like you,” Carl grinned wickedly. “You’ve got the right attitude and you don’t live too far from where I play, do you?” he asked, having clearly studied Nicko’s notes before coming in. “I’d love to grab a few beers with you sometime in the coming months.”

Nicko nodded his head frantically.

“Good,” Carl smiled, reaching his large hand out to stroke Nicko’s thigh. “Play your cards right and I might even let you suck me off,” he teased, before standing and heading straight out of the room.

Despite the daring, unbelievably hot fantasy Carl had dangled in front of Nicko’s nose: home still beckoned. He had lost. The dream of sporting success and insane riches was now over.

With a mediocre college degree, Nicko settled into an equally mediocre office job, close to home so that he could move back in with his parents. He’d suffered from a great sense of failure after the training scheme had gone so badly. No one wanted to be the first one sent home; he hadn’t even had a chance to say even a quick goodbye to his friends. He’d got himself into quite the slump, finding that no matter what he did, he simply couldn’t shake off the little arching paunch he had developed in Oklahoma. In fact, despite all his careful eating and gym work, it actually seemed to be increasing in size more than anything. 

The same could be said for the rest of his body, with Nicko’s underwear pinching uncomfortably as his tight glutes began to pack on some extra, softening mass. Was he really developing love handles at this age, even after all this exercise? It just didn’t seem physically possible. His date, the weekend before, had even called him out on his extra pounds. Perhaps he had even been right to do so; his profile pictures really were a little out of date these days. It meant that when he got the call from someone on Carl Williams’ staff, trying to set up a date for their beers, Nicko went immediately into panic mode. There was nothing in his closet that was suitable for drinks with a football superstar; at least, nothing that fitted!

“Well, well, well…” Carl smirked as Nicko entered the very private VIP room at the back of the noisy, exclusive club in the city. The enormous 335lb football player looked sexier than ever, all dressed up as he was for a night out. “Let me get a look at you,” he demanded, ruthlessly kicking away the table in front of him with his feet and making space for Nicko.

Having travelled for an hour to get here and arguing with the security outside for twenty minutes that he was a guest of Carl’s, Nicko wanted nothing more than to just sit and have a drink. However, when Carl clicked his fingers and pointed again to where he was being summoned, Nicko only did as he was told.

Immediately, Carl reached forwards, slapping one hand on Nicko’s larger butt and the other on the furthest extent that his paunch was now sticking out. He smiled, bouncing both lightly and seeming to appreciate the new width across the middle of Nicko’s body. “Look at you!” he growled with disgust. “You wouldn't last two minutes on the football field now. My boys would rip you to pieces!”

“I’m trying this new diet…” Nicko began explaining, not knowing what else to say.

Carl winced and shook his head impatiently. “Shh! I don’t want to hear about shit like that.” He leaned right back, then tapped his outstretched thigh, silently telling Nicko to sit on it.

Again, Nicko did as he was old, unable to comprehend that he was getting so close to his football idol. He heard Carl growl in appreciation as Nicko’s torso slipped so easily into his reach. Then, without a word, he began unbuttoning Nicko’s shirt from the very top.

“Wait!” Nicko jumped. “Don’t people come in here?”

“Yes,” Carl replied, unperturbed as he reached the fourth button down.

“What if someone comes in and sees me like this?”

“Then they will see…” Carl smiled, finally reaching the end of the buttons and now splaying the shirt material to the sides, “...THIS!”

Nicko tensed as his fleshy torso was revealed to the one person he had been carefully dressing to conceal it from.

“Fuck!” Carl blasted. “Even the tits are coming in!” he laughed loudly, reaching up and bouncing one of Nicko’s nipples.

Nicko got up, feeling embarrassed. He felt Carl’s strong hand clasp the back of his pants and pull him back over his knee so that Nicko actually fell into the space on the couch beside the football superstar. From there, the enormous man seemed to envelope him, his arm over his body and his face so deliciously close.

“Don’t be shy,” Carl whispered teasingly. “This happens to all the boys at the training camp eventually. Well…” he grinned, raising his arm to show off his incredible bicep, “...almost all.”

“Weight gain?” Nicko asked, feeling his stomach rolling over his belt as he sat, half on his back, with the enormous athlete looming over him.

Carl nodded. “A fat belly, jiggly tits, a giant, doughy butt… you know how it goes,” he laughed; his lips devastatingly near. “But the one percent, well, that boy is always very special.”

Niko nodded, remembering Carl referring to the muscle stimulant medication having an opposite outcome for one percent of the people who used it. Which, in Nicko’s group, had been him. “I’m special?” he asked, aroused by all this attention he was getting.

“Very much so,” Carl grinned, rubbing Nicko’s cheek with an outstretched finger. “The one percent packs on fat faster than anyone else. In less than a year, he can go from a chiselled athlete to a full grown superchub!”

“That can’t be true,” Nicko replied. “They’d never allow something like that.”

“And yet…” Carl laughed, grabbing the roll of fat hanging over Nicko’s belt: his point made. “You really have no concept of how much money there is to be made in football, do you? How vital things like this are for the economy? Fatties like you are just… collateral damage… a necessary evil on the way to creating superstars like me.”

“How do I stop this?” Niko asked, watching the athlete getting up and unbuckling his pants.

“Sucking on this should help,” Carl lied, pulling his monstrously large erection out and slapping it into the palm of his hand. It was even bigger than Nicko had ever imagined, gazing at pictures and videos of the guy’s bulge over the years

Overcome with lust, Nicko slipped his mouth over as much of it as he could, just as he was directed. Everything that had happened since entering this room had been like a dream. Whatever weird things were happening in his life right now, here he was, pleasuring a football champion!

“Oh, yeah! That’s good!” Carl moaned. “Yes! Work that tongue, One Percent! Take as much of me in as you can!”

In those moments, Nicko did not care what was happening to him. He was the luckiest guy in the world, feeling ecstatic as he brought the enormous man to a full climax, simply by using his mouth.

Clearly impressed, a sweaty Carl buckled his belt back up and sat himself down again. “Keep that up and you’ll go far with me,” he sighed in appreciation.

As Carl fixed his clothing, Nicko tried to do the same, beginning to refasten his shirt buttons. However, Carl was still having none of it; placing his large hand very decidedly over Nicko’s and saying ‘no’ in a very strict manner; as if training a puppy.

“Have you ever thought about moving to the city?” Carl asked next.

Nicko shook his head. “I couldn’t afford it. Plus, I don’t know anyone here.”

“Good. That means you wouldn’t go wandering,” Carl shot back bluntly. “I can get you somewhere by next weekend. You can live there, and then you’re close by for me to pop in whenever I want. I keep a few guys that way.”

“Why would you do that for me?” Nicko asked, confused by what he felt were a rush of mixed messages.

“At a game, the front row seats are always the best,” Carl simply replied, leaning across once more and flicking the fat roll that fell over Nicko’s belt. “And this is a show I have no intention of missing…”

It was a couple of months later. Nicko stood at the large picture window of his apartment, still unable to comprehend the amazing view he had over the cityscape. Fully furnished and decorated by professional interior designers, Nicko was living a life he could have only ever imagined in his very wildest of dreams. He was even paid a salary each month and had new bank accounts set up entirely by Carl’s people. And all it took was the signing of several non-disclosure agreements from the athlete’s numerous lawyers.

“It’s time to put that pizza down, Fat Boy!” Carl called out, striding in unannounced, as usual.

Nicko chuckled. He hadn’t been eating any pizza, although you would never have guessed that from looking at him. Upon Carl’s insistence, he wore only his underwear around the apartment, catching glimpses of his increasingly lardy reflection in the many, many mirrors that Carl had insisted was part of the interior design.

“Jeez! Look at you!” Carl laughed, undressing himself at the door, as he always did, and watching as his secret project came waddling into view. He pulled his erection out and stipped even his boxers, standing there as the perfect masculine specimen. “Your tits just won’t quit growing, will they?” he laughed. “And look at this fat butt!” he marvelled, dropping Nicko’s underwear and slapping the oversized glutes which had been filling up at a faster rate since Carl had been sending over take-out most nights. Nicko could tell from the way that Carl was handling them, exactly how the big man wanted to fuck him that evening.

The big mirror in the hallway was always Carl’s favourite spot. He could bend Nicko over the sturdy little desk and watch their reflections as he powerfully bombarded his boy’s chubby’s rear with blow after blow.

“You played well last night,” Nicko offered afterwards as a naked Carl lounged on his sofa for a rest afterwards..

“Yeah, yeah,” Carl sighed, rolling his eyes. He had people blowing smoke up his ass all day long. This wasn’t what he kept Nicko for.

“I felt so proud, I decided to finish all those doughnuts you sent me,” he explained, hoping to please his lover.

“Good,” Carl nodded. “It’s about time you stopped resisting the ways I’m trying to help you fatten faster.” He beckoned Nicko closer, just as the chubby boy had hoped. “So, tell me, how did it make you feel, eating all that for me?”

Still fully loaded and, as yet, unsatisfied, Nicko gasped in excitement as he felt Carl’s hand moving onto his thigh, ready to pleasure him if only he said the right things. “It felt incredible,” he replied, exaggerating. “It made me want to eat even more food and please you so much more,” he continued, feeling his erection having a gentle stroke; so subtle and yet so precise.

“Go on,” Carl demanded, not letting Nicko stop. “Tell me more.”

Nicko gasped, always climaxing pathetically quickly whenever Carl was the one touching him. “It made me so excited to get heavier for you…” he offered.

“Oh, no. That’s not the right word now, is it?” Carl sighed with disappointment. “You’re not just getting heavier, are you? Tell me what’s really happening, One Percent.”

Nicko gave another gasp of arousal, his jaw slackening as the pleasure built. “I’m getting fatter for you,” he replied diligently.

“What else?” Carl demanded again, having found a small crack in Nicko’s defences and prizing it open in any way that he could.

“I’m getting lazier. I don’t exercise. And I eat like a pig,” Nicko whispered, just as he had been trained.

“You are a pig,” Carl shot back at him, spiking Nicko’s arousal even more. The shock he felt over the word was now gone, given how many times Carl had whispered it into his ear whenever he came. Now the word had become a key for unlocking Nicko’s arousal. 

Nicko nodded, gazing submissively into the big man’s eyes. His breathing was heavy and his entire body twitched as the orgasm built.

“Piggy, Piggy, Piggy!” Carl sang teasingly, forcing Nicko’s hardess to erupt explosively yet again.

“My goodness! What on earth have you been eating?” asked Nicko’s mother a few weeks later as he called home for a quick visit.

Nicko could feel his face flushing. “It’s nothing,” he mumbled, trying to conceal his stout gut that had quickly formed and dominated his torso. It was all his family wanted to talk about, demanding explanations from Nicko about exactly what he was doing to gain so much weight so quickly. Didn’t he have any regard for his health? His appearance? His ability to find someone nice to settle down with? Just what was this city life doing to him? 

“She’s only thinking of you, Son,” Nicko’s dad offered later that afternoon, as the pair retreated into the TV room to watch the football. 

“I know, I know,” Nicko huffed, trying to concentrate on the game to see how Carl was playing. Then he winced as Carl went in for a big tackle, destroying the opposition.

“Ouch!” Nicko’s dad hooted. “He’s a nasty piece of work, that Carl Williams! Look at him getting up like nothing’s happened. That poor guy will be out for weeks after that tackle.”

“So?,” Nicko replied defensively. “It wasn’t an illegal tackle. He’s not broken any rules.”

“No, just another guy’s shoulder by the looks of things. Third one this season by my count.”

They both watched the screen as Carl strutted about on the pitch, waiting for the medical team to finish up so that play could resume. Nicko knew the football player well enough to know when he was trying to suppress a proud smile.

“A man that big has no place on the football field,” Nicko’s dad continued. “Look at him! His arms are bigger than my thighs! The game has gone ridiculous!”

But Nicko definitely was watching, feeling blood pumping into his groin. He rubbed his fat tummy, just as Carl would have, suddenly knowing that he wanted to gorge himself stupid on fast food on the way home.

“I weighed myself this morning,” Nicko explained, lying on his front, naked on the bed after a particularly boisterous session with Carl. “Three hundred and forty one pounds,” he smiled, rolling a little and grabbing a wedge of belly fat.

“You have to start eating more then, won’t you?” Carl replied, unimpressed. “You’re only just a little heavier than me.”

Nicko laughed. Whilst the fact was true, his and Carl’s bodies were complete polar opposites in terms of composition.

“I mean it,” Carl stated seriously. “Three fifty by next weekend. Make it happen.”

“Am I the fattest of the guys you keep?” Nicko asked, knowing how Carl supported lots of secret lovers all over the city.

“Not even close!” Carl laughed.

“Do you think I could be, one day?”

Carl looked at him seriously, studying his face in a way that he did not usually. Then his answer, when it came, was actually a lot more considered than anything else that usually came out his mouth. “Why? Do you want to be?”

The feeling of having Carl’s attention was a drug that Nicko could never wean himself off. “For you,” he smiled, “I’d do anything.”

With Nicko’s new enthusiasm and commitment, he felt himself rising up the ranks in Carl’s mind. The athlete came over a lot more and took a very active interest in ensuring that Nicko continued to grow as he’d promised he would. One such perk was having free seats to any of Carl’s games; often getting himself on camera as he gorged on corn dogs in the stands.  

“Steve?” Nicko asked as he recognised the man standing by the rest rooms after the game. “How’re you doing, buddy? I can’t believe I’m bumping into you!”

The young man Nicko had met and made friends with in the training camp failed to recognise him until Nicko introduced himself once more. His jaw dropped and he spluttered and mumbled his way through the conversation, clearly not quite believing that they had once been roommates a little over one year ago.

“How did the training camp work out for you in the end?” Nicko asked. “I didn’t even get to say goodbye to anyone.”

“Yeah, we got used to that,” Steve nodded. “We’d see guys at breakfast and then… gone. Kicked out. I got down to the final thirty or so. But it got so toxic in the end,” he grumbled, reeling off the names of the guys both he and Nicko had despised: the ones who were now making names for themselves in the professional game. “In the end, I was quite happy to leave.”

Nicko looked down to Steve’s body, noticing a stout little stomach under his pumped pecs. 

Steve noticed him looking and he sucked in hids stomach slightly, clearly feeling a little awkward. “I’ve been trying to keep up the training,” he rambled on, clearly used to making excuses for his appearance. “It’s just hard to balance now I’m working full time as well.”

“It’s much easier when you give into it,” Nicko smiled knowingly. 

“Yeah, well…” Steve smiled awkwardly. “I’m not quite ready for that.”

Nicko wondered whether he should tell his old friend that the weight gain wasn’t going to stop; that just like him, Steve was heading on a path to enormous obesity as a result of their time in the training camp. However, he resisted, giving his old friend the goodbye hug he had never been allowed at the camp, and watching the guy’s meaty, round glutes and stubborn love handles as he walked back to his girlfriend who was now out of the restrooms. If only she knew the body her boyfriend would soon inhabit: another victim of his own lust for sporting success.

It was only now that Nicko realised just how involved Carl had been from the beginning, having invested millions in the training camp they had attended, and reaping fifty times as much in return. It was what he loved most in the entire world; never missing a single event day they held, and personally seeing to it that more and more naive college boys were signed up each year.

“You’re such a good pig these days,” Carl grinned, watching Nicko nibbling on the specially made giant doughnuts that fitted perfectly around Carl’s thick erection. “Just seeing you without your clothes on now… you’re so disgustingly obese, and yet… look at you eat!”

Nicko nibbled and licked the remaining bits up quickly and sat up so that Carl could touch and jiggle his enormous body, laughing as the waves of pure fat travelled in such interesting ways through his entire body. 

“How about we get you somewhere nicer to live than this dump?” he asked, scorning as he looked around the plush, luxury apartment. “Somewhere a lot more superchub friendly.”

Nicko nodded, happy to live wherever Carl thought was best. As he had grown, the wage that was deposited into his account each month had been increasing more and more. Carl had always been great at incentives. In a couple more months, he would even be able to buy his own place, should he so wish.

“I’m looking for somewhere very exclusive for my original piggy to live in,” Carl explained, bouncing up and pushing Nicko onto his back on the bed. “I’d like it to be somewhere for you both to live together,” he smiled, picking up another cream filled doughnut and pushing it into Nicko’s submissive mouth.

Chewing quickly and swallowing as much as he could, Nicko nodded with interest. “This is the guy you first went on the training course with? Your fattest boy so far?”

“You wait until you see him!” Carl grinned excitedly. “Mountains and mountains of pure blubber!” he chuckled, stuffing yet another doughnut into Nicko’s mouth and watching as the greedy boy swallowed it down for him “But he’s not always obedient, like you. He still tries to push against my rules on occasion,” he sneered in irritation. “The pig’s almost one hundred pounds heavier than you are,” Carl explained, having never actually given Nicko any insight into the differences between him and the other fatties he kept. “Yet, he still thinks he can defy me at times.”

Nicko looked up at the gorgeous, hulking monster above him. “Don’t worry. I’ll sort him out for you,” he stated with certainty.

Carl threw his head back and laughed. “My disgusting fatty is setting himself a mission, is he?” he mocked. “Well, you do that then, One Percent,” he nodded approvingly. “Turn him into a good piggy, just like you.”

Nicko smiled, delighted to be trusted with such a task. He rolled over, feeling Carl’s large hand smacking an entire palmful of lubricant into his crack. Then he pulled his heavy, fat-filled glutes wide apart to demonstrate that he was ready to be fucked again. Nicko didn’t know exactly when he had stopped caring about anything else in his life; devoting himself entirely to Carl’s wants and needs. He knew that the guy was wicked and manipulative; throwing his money around and flaunting his good looks to get whatever he wanted. He knew as well that the guy could get bored of him and drop him in a flash. But whilst he was here, basking in the limelight, he would enjoy every second of it. 

He would be the very best piggy.  

[kunikuyu]

Until he gets tired.

Heian Era! Ryomen Sukuna x Male! Reader

Warnings: 🕊️ DEAD DOVE, DO NOT EAT. Dom! sukuna, sub! reader. reader is simply crazy. Size kink, cut play, mention of the term 'sex slave', dub-con, sex even when passed out, bulge in the belly, begging, abusive relationship, words written intentionally wrong, sukuna has two dicks, fainting, monster romance (for obvious reasons). DNI MINORS.

Summary: Being Sukuna's partner is something completely insane. Aside from the fact that Sukuna is incapable of loving anyone, he seems to take a twisted pleasure in hurting his partners. Every night, [Name] knows that the next day, he will wake up completely destroyed.

The climate was pleasant. Not too cold, not too hot, a gentle breeze blew through the walls and windows of Sukuna's temple. But what made everything scary and strange were the screams that came from inside.

Today was a special day. [Name] and Sukuna, the king of curses, had completed a hundred years together, as partners. Normally no one would celebrate this, since... Who would want to stand next to Sukuna? No one would be crazy enough to do that.

But, [Name] is.

"Uhm~ 'Kuna..."

The ancient sorcerer purrs. [Name] was sitting in the lap of the curse, skin completely exposed for anyone to see, but protected so no one can touch. And of course no one would touch, who would even dare to come close to the one who is so 'well taken care of' by Ryomen Sukuna. His chest was already completely red and full of small cuts, which were leaking almost invisible drops of blood. He didn't even know how he managed to stay awake anymore, it seemed simply impossible not to pass out there. Not because of the small and insignificant loss of blood, but rather for the pain in his lower parts.

[Name] couldn't move, couldn't even dare breathe wrong, if he didn't want to get slapped in the face. It seemed like an impossible task, and it really was, since Sukuna's dick wasn't just anything, or just an organ. It was big, ridiculously big, it seemed like a joke to imagine that it could fit on someone. So much so that only the cockhead managed to enter the sorcerer's body.

But Sukuna didn't care at all, of course not. He smiled when he saw his flushed face, expressing pain and clearly distorted pleasure. And instead of helping, he only makes the situation worse, squeezing hard around [Name]'s entire length so that he's unable to cum. This felt more like a punishment than a reward for staying by his side for so long.

"Such a dirty little whore... Are you that used to it? Don't you even scream in desperation for me to get out of you? I don't know if I find this interesting or pathetic." He says, with his typical arrogant and self-centered tone.

Deciding that he would take things more seriously, the King of Curses pulls [Name]'s hands close enough to him, so that the younger man is completely lying on top of Sukuna, being the perfect target for the all-out aggression the older man has in mind. He liked seeing his partner like this, but he much preferred seeing him screaming and crying because he couldn't handle his dick.

[Name] lets out a howl of pain as his severed chest is thrown hard against Sukuna's chest. It was like a thousand needles going into his skin because of the small cuts located in the area, but he still managed to find pleasure in the pain.

"Sukuna...! That hurts...!"

"I know."

Suddenly, agonizing screams of pain can be heard from far away. The screams were definitely from [Name], who was now being fucked mercilessly. He drooled against the other man's shoulder while still going through the trouble of jerking off his other cock. It was always so painful, the older man's balls aggressively slapped his ass, while his dick reached the deepest layer of his body, crushing his prostate with ease.

"Stop, please!~ Sho painf- ah!"

He doesn't even have time to complain before another of Sukuna's tricks is revealed. The two bodies completely glued together served so that the mouth on the monster-man's stomach could willingly take in [Name]'s red and swollen cock. He doesn't even know what to feel. It hurts, but he's about to cum!

And...

...To faint...

This lasts all night, and several times, [Name] even faints. It didn't end until Sukuna got tired, and he could never easily get tired of his beloved sex slave. When [Name] wakes up in the morning, a small pool of blood was formed on his bed, and next to the bed, a calm and silent Sukuna was cleaning his own body, which was dirty with fluids from both of them. When looking at his body, the sorcerer realizes that his chest was no longer the only thing that was bleeding, but his entire body. His belly was even full, certainly from Sukuna's loads of cum, which were clearly not few. He can barely stay awake for long before passing out again from exhaustion and blood loss.

[desi2go]

Lifting your bump

pairing: Felix x pregnant!reader

warnings: fluff

author's note: I'm half way done with the greek mythology fic! I'm hoping that I can finish it within the next week ;-)

Being pregnant was something that you wanted to be since you were young. You didn't know why but these little human beings just do something to you. Their big glossy eyes, the rosy cheeks and the bright smile always made you smitten.

And it was one of your biggest dreams to be pregnant one day. To experience motherhood on your own, watching the child you and your love created together growing up.

You knew that pregnancy wasn't easy. The morning sickness, back pain, swollen feet and so much more. But that didn't matter.

That's why you were thrilled when you discovered that you were pregnant from your boyfriend, Felix, of two years. It wasn't planned at all.

At first you couldn't even remember how on earth you could be pregnant. Since dating Felix and after a long conversation with him, you had decided that you would take the pill. You knew that it wasn't one hundred percent safe and Felix most of the time used a condom. But visiting him at the practice room turned out steamy and spicy.

And days after, you had noticed that you forgot to take the pill in the morning and you didn't use a condom.

Sure, you didn't think that you will be pregnant so early.

You wished Felix was there so that you could have told him right now.

But he was on tour and wouldn't come home for another month.

However, you didn't want to wait so long to tell him the news. You were dying to tell him. You called him the same evening, deciding to drop the news immediately. Luckily, you two already talked about having children and you both agreed that when the time was right you would try. Well, you weren't trying but it felt right to you and you knew that Lix would be over the moon.

And you were right. At first he was shocked, his mouth open in disbelief but after a few seconds, the biggest smile appeared on his face.

He jumped through his hotel room, squealed and hugged Seungmin tightly as he just wanted to check on him because of his screaming.

When he came home from tour, there was already a small bump. He cried when he saw you again and hugged you tightly, caressing over your stomach.

The months flew by and your bump grew bigger and bigger. It turned out that you weren't not carrying a baby but two. Felix told you that you glowed and you looked great pregnant. And you really loved it. Even though they decided that they wanted to be kick boxer and stomped against your rips.

Your breasts hurt, feet swollen and you couldn't even brush your teeth without the need to vomit. That was the side that you wouldn't miss.

And oh lord, your little beans weighed a ton. Back pains were terrible but you still insisted to cook for Felix so that he had a meal when he came home from the company.

You hummed along the soft melody of your favourite song, boiling some noodles. You groaned when one of the babies kicked, running your hand over your swollen belly.

The front door opens, signalling that your love was home from work. Immediately, he was behind you. Kissing your shoulder and hugged you from behind.

"Hello my love. Why are you cooking? The doctor said you should rest" he whispered into your ear, nibbling on the skin on your neck.

"I am resting. See? I'm not really moving around. So technically I'm resting" you answered and stirred the sauce.

His hands circled your waist just below your belly. He felt the kick.

"Little beans are really active today." You said.

"You promised me to be kind to your mother, sweet peas" he scolded lightly. He wrapped his arms tighter around you.

"What are you doing, love?"

He chuckled and kissed your neck. "Just relax"

Then, he lifted your bump slowly. Most of the weight was taken off of you and it was like you could finally take full breaths again. Exhausted, you sigh and slumped against him. Finally, your back pain began to vanish even it was just slightly.

He saw that on social media and Chan told him today that his wife absolutely loved it when she was pregnant.

"Oh my god, Lix. That feels great. Please stay like that" you groan and sunk further into him. He found it so adorable and he'll do everything for you whenever he can.

In that position he could even feel the babies kicking.

And he loved to see you comfortable, especially when he knew how painful this was for you and he'll definitely do it in the future more often till his little beans were born.

[fandomwritingbit]

Sweet girl pt.6

Dbf William Afton x (fem) virgin reader

Synop: Your parents are throwing a neighbourhood party, you're looking forward to it. It's too bad you're going to miss all of it.

Warnings: smut, oral, taking of virginity, public sex, coercion, corruption and manipulation. William is pretty evil ngl.

Imma just link to the masterlist, this series is getting well too long lol.

A/n: I've never written cherry-popping before I hope this is okay. This is so far from my experience it's hard to believe it'd be the same even lmao. Also my writer's block has been so fucking bad recently, I need all the slack you're willing to give.

It sounded great when your parents first put it to you: a barbeque a few weekends from now, the whole neighbourhood invited to enjoy some good food and sunshine. The perfect excuse to flaunt a gorgeous lavender dress you bought months ago, it caught your eye on a sales rack, a perfect flowy fabric that clung to all the right places. Your size, a match made in heaven. You can’t help but shiver with the thought of how William will react to it, handsy is the word that springs to mind, not that you are against that. 

~

The day of, you step into that dress, the fabric soft and almost soothing around your body. It’s hot today and you’re glad for the lightness of the material, though you think that maybe the heat on your face is from anticipation. He’s all you think about, the danger of him asking you to touch him with your dad barely 10 feet away, the beautiful feeling of his fingers inside you tearing an orgasm out of you like nothing you've had before, the nights you’ve spent calling him and getting off. You’re addicted to all of it and it has your fingers dipping into your panties at any given opportunity.

You pad downstairs about ten minutes before people are set to arrive, finding your mum and dad hurrying around. “Oh you look lovely, sweetie.” Your dad says in passing, carrying an overly big bowl of salad towards your dining table. It was full of all kinds of buffet bits, but enough space left for guests to contribute things, as tends to be customary. Right now the amount of food seems over the top, but you know that once things get going your house will be full of everyone with a tie to the community.

… 

And you were correct, your house is swarming. People in the living room, the dining room, outside, all chatting and greeting neighbours that ‘they really should see more often’. You’re herded around groups of people by your mum and dad, introductions and re-introductions said to what felt like hundreds, but was likely only twenty or so. You are as polite as you can, smiling through small talk about your education and how much you’ve changed since last year, but your heart’s not in it, your eyes are constantly flicking around for William. It should be easy to spot him, he's a tall enough fella, but your searching keeps turning up empty.

Your glancing around the room is interrupted by a squeaky, “Oh my god, y/n?” You turn to where the voice is coming from, instantly recognising the girl of your age who was squeezing past your dad to get to you. “I haven’t seen you since… school.” She pulls a face at the word ‘school’ which you commiserate with, you can’t place this girl's name but the mention of school makes you frown. Your manners are important to you but it doesn’t take a genius to realise that if you haven't seen someone in years, there’s most likely a reason why.

“Yeah… It’s been a long time.” You agree, giving her a bright smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. In the middle of this awkward interaction you clap eyes on him and your heart jumps in your chest in such a ridiculous way you pray it doesn’t show on your face. He’s talking to a bloke you know from three or four houses down, a small smile on his face that has an air of amusement like he’s laughing internally at the gentleman’s expense. 

You are almost physically pulling away from this conversation but the lass doesn’t stop talking, oblivious to your lack of interest as she tells you all about her cosmetology school and her apprenticeship. You just don’t have the rudeness in you to walk away so you grit your teeth and ride out the conversation, eagerly watching William out of the corner of your eye.

It takes so long trying to get her to leave that by the time she’s got out her phone and is part way through finding you on instagram, William is slinking out of the room. The moment she’s done, you brush her off with a polite see you later, leaving the room in the path your bad influence had used. You’re experiencing some kind of withdrawal from not having his attention, it’s pathetic but it’s true, and achingly obvious in how you walk your house searching for him… again. 

You find him in your living room and you edge through a group of chatting neighbours to get through to him and as you get near still unnoticed you find your mum standing beside him, looking up at him and talking through a wide grin. “It feels like a long time since I’ve seen you properly, William.” It takes you no effort to lock onto your mother’s words, they make you frown instantly. 

“Yeah I’ve been busy with work.” He shakes his head, “I’ll have to come and see you and Chris soon.” And your lovely daughter, he mentally adds, though some of the intention must show on his face because the woman in front of him puts her hand on his arm. His eyes widen. 

“Anytime.” She says, doubling down on it, “I mean it, any-time. I like having you around.” Something about the tone of that turns your frown into a scowl. It’s flirtation, and you burn with anger. Jealousy, yes, you can’t help it, it’s instant, but for god’s sake your dad is right fucking there. You don’t consider how you could be overreacting, the indignation is too strong, so you leave the room in a huff, feeling like a fucking idiot for spending your whole day looking for a bloke who clearly wasn’t looking for you. It stings and in a flurry you remind yourself that all the things you’ve done with him are only your first times, not his. 

You’re out of the house before you know it, keeping your head down as you go far to the bottom of your garden where a hedge gives you respite from turning heads. You’re not crying, but you’re not a mile away from it either. Maybe it’s that withdrawal again, but you stand in the corner feeling let down, lonely and stupid. Anger at your mum outweighs anger at William, but the latter is still strong. 

You stand there for a while, getting a better grip on your emotions, you need enough of a hold to walk back inside and either brave more of the party or hide away in your room. This is when people need a smoke, you think to yourself, wondering if a fag could actually help relax someone in this state.

Calming yourself down takes a good few minutes but once you get there, you decide that yeah, you need some quiet for a bit, then some thought about why you went off the handle so quickly, why you’re so enamoured by William. But to do that you’re going to have to escape this whole party, preferably without being noticed because if someone asks you how you are right now, you don’t know how you’re going to react. 

So you slip out your hiding place, peeking around the hedge to see the silent picture of people through your back windows. Here we go. You cross the garden pretty quickly and soon get your hands on the door handle into the house, you step inside managing to smile at the few heads that turn your way. But that smile soon drops away when he appears. Your heart jumps at the sudden confrontation, so long of trying to catch him but now you don’t want him anywhere near you. 

“So that’s where you’ve been hiding.” William’s voice drips with honey and you try to ignore the warmth already settling in your core, but you know it’s a battle you won’t win.

You turn from his invasive gaze, hands a little shaky as you try to close the sliding door behind you. “Hey, where are you going, hm?” His eyes narrow at the blatant way you’re ignoring him, he can’t hold a serious expression though so a confused smirk rests on his face, how sweet you look with that pet lip. He puts his hand on your arm, halting the process of closing the door easily, no force necessary, the touch is enough. “Come with me outside, sweetheart, come on.” 

You look up at him frowning, partially from previous anger, partially from fear that someone else will see, how he can dare to be so obvious is beyond you. There’s no room to reason with him, not when he’s already opening the door again, already guiding you through it, that grip still present on your arm. It’s not a firm hold, it’s barely there but, the skin to skin contact has you enthralled. 

He takes you all the way back to the hidden spot you left just minutes ago, only this time it doesn’t feel like such a safe space. Once out of view he lowers his head down to look you in your face, not liking when you turn away and so catching your chin with his thumb. “Are you alright, sweet thing? What’s wrong?”

His sickly sweet tone is enough to spark a flash of anger as bright as it is sudden. “Why don’t you ask my mum?” You snap, your voice much more petulant than it is clever, the patheticness of it has your cheeks hot but you double down. William just grins, confusion leaving his brow furrowed. This is new, he thinks, you’ve never taken that tone with him before, it’s fun, shiny-new and exciting. 

You continue, provoked by him not understanding what you mean, “...You seemed to be enjoying her company anyway...” You speak dejectedly, your jealousy running riot with you. You want to pull away from him, the lack of genuineness in his expression inflames you, he thinks it’s all a game and you can’t believe you’ve only just cottoned on. 

William hums in acknowledgement before dropping his hand from you, you’re glad that he’s taking you that bit more seriously but it’s downright shameful how you miss the contact already. 

It takes a lot in him not to laugh, the unfounded envy practically has your eyes glowing. This is good though, such passion all from feeling cast aside, you so desperately want him to want you and that is just perfect. For him. He faces your glare dead on, being very careful not to patronise you too much. “What exactly are you jealous of?”

You open your mouth to protest, hating yourself for being so easy to read. You know your bitterness is written on every inch of you, your closed stance, your harsh jaw, the immature tone of your voice, but you just can’t fucking help it. There’s no point denying it, so you don’t bother. “There…” you stumble, having to abandon your daggers to continue, “You didn’t have to flirt with my mum right in front of my face like that… and my dad’s.” 

He nods, sighing before answering you through a slick grin, “I think maybe your mam was teasing me, a little.” That grin simply blossoms, thorough amusement peeking out of hiding, “But you more than anyone should know that flirting with me isn’t half as boring as that was.” 

You don’t have time to fight the way you flush, it’s not fair, are you really this easy to win over? He’s doing the William equivalent of batting his eyelashes at you and you’re falling for it, you must want to deep down. But you still don’t trust him as far as you could throw him, which is needless to say, not far. 

“Come on, why would I even consider your mother when I have her sweet girl looking at me so moody right now, huh?” You roll your eyes at that, moving to turn away and think for yourself but he stops you, his hands on you holding you still and muting the dull noise around you. “At least tell me what I can do to make it better. How can I earn your forgiveness?” He speaks with a certain glee, prideful of his art form, like you’re some puzzle he’s solved before. And with his face close to yours he adds mockingly, “Or have I got it already?” 

You want to touch him, shut him up, but you’re a mere corner away from the whole neighbourhood. “You’re slimy.” You speak honestly, well maybe you’re sugar-coating it even, “And I’m not stupid.” Your conviction is there, but the physical support isn’t, you’re looking up at him like a doe, breathing quicker than normal, your chest rising and falling fast in your new dress. 

He laughs, “True. But watch it, you’ll hurt my feelings.” He has something else to say, some other mocking teasing syrup, you don’t let him, throwing yourself towards him. Your lips press against his in a sudden desperate way, like you’ve something to prove. Your lack of finesse could be mistaken for hunger but he knows you better than that, he dominates the kiss without much effort, easily pulling you along with his rhythm. He likes you like this, smart, able to see through him, it turns him on. Because what’s better than spoiling a naive young woman? Spoiling one who knows it’s happening and can’t help herself either way. 

William breaks the kiss, hands eagerly taking in your shape, “Let me make you forgive me, right here.” As he talks his touch slides low, over your arse and making your back curve against him. “I’m dying to pull this cute dress up.” You need it, just whining some form of approval, wordless at that predator’s glint in his gaze. He slides his hand between your legs and you’re keen, shivering at the spark of pleasure and eagerly angling your hips for more. 

He pauses his touch for a moment, breath staggering as he thinks about what he’s going to do, you hardly notice for your own need. When you do look at him, you see him shaking his head, snickering at something unbeknownst to you. 

He moves then, debasing himself by dropping to his knees on the grass, hands grabbing your skirt fabric up above your waist band, gathering it there in one to rive your panties down with the other. The cool air invades you, unwarned exposure making you moan. “William-”

“Shush.” He chastises bluntly, as if his thumb wasn’t now resting against your clit and giving it a perfect gentle pressure. He knows what you’re going to say, “You don’t want anyone to see, huh? Well, bite your tongue. I don’t have to worry about mine.” The words are wicked with innuendo and you have to stifle everything in you except a sharp intake of breath when he shows you exactly what he’s doing with his tongue. 

It’s dirty, shame-ridden and debauched, but you’re at the mercy of his mouth devouring your cunt. Parting your seam to toy with the slick plea of your hole. You can hardly stand still, body shaking with fretful want, it’s too much and not nearly enough, you have to battle to keep quiet against the vindictive way your core is tightening. 

His tongue drags through your slit and he sniggers against you before cruelly sucking your bundle of nerves. You’re grabbing him, pulling him closer, trying to push him away, as you tingle with need for your end. He’s relentless, playing your instrument just right and you have no faculty to ask for respite. Your coil clenches tight and snaps, and you come undone right there in your garden, waves of bliss so bright your legs shake and you need his arms to hold you up. There are tears in your eyes and you don’t know if they’re because of your climax or the emotional whiplash you’ve just endured. You don’t have it in you to care.  

He pulls away from you and you watch over-blissed as he wipes your slick from his face on the back of his hand, letting your skirt fall to its rightful position. “Now that’s the perfect thing, I’ve missed.” He stands, his eyes dark with arousal. “You’re a good girl on the phone but fuck there’s nothing like it in person.” 

You beam with pride, his praise so much nicer when you’re pliant and glistening from pleasure. How bad an idea that was isn’t lost on you, but it was worth it, even if now you have to pull your knickers up to hide the evidence. As you do, you see how filthy he is, mud coating his knees and you laugh. 

Struggling to explain yourself through the shocked giggles you manage to state, “Your trousers are ruined.” 

He looks down and sees why you’re so lost in laughter, he had weighed up his options though and tasting your sweet pussy was more than worth the dirt. William attempts to brush some away but it’s never going to happen, and so with a sigh he sniggers, “Am I old enough to have people believe I fell?” 

You burst out laughing at that, unable to regain yourself for a while, he deserves that, you think. After some time you are lucid enough to say, “Maybe say tripped instead of fell.” Your cheeks are shiny with both the fit of giggles and the aftermath of your activity, you look so delectable he hardly minds the state of his clothes. 

“Why don’t,” William begins, still smirking, and you give him as much of your attention as you can, “you show me your room? I’d like to see it in person.” He’s testing to see how much forgiveness he’s won, you know that, but the prospect of what’s to come is motivation enough to give him it. 

“Okay.” You agree, the idea of it has your chest tight but your core knows better, “Should I be scared?” You’re joking, mostly, your room is a different beast, much more personal. Somehow more bare than what you’ve just done. 

“Very.”

~

Walking through your house felt dangerous, like it’s written on your forehead that you’re doing something wrong. People are eating now though, too self-absorbed to notice the rabbit leading the fox to its burrow, which is for the best, all things considered. 

He follows you obediently, mind half-focused on your retreating form, the other half pondering just what he’s going to do about this raging erection he’s afflicted with. You looked so sweet taking him in your mouth, so eager to please, malleable. But your perfect unbroken cunt would be just delightful to rut against. As much as he wants to, he won’t- can’t deflower you just yet, not with all these people around to hear the squeaking of bedsprings, hell, the squeaking of you. The idea makes his cock throb and he’s already palming himself before you reach the landing. 

“This one.” You say, opening the door for him, your voice sounds much smaller than it did two minutes ago. You are scared, all jokes aside. 

He moves past you inside, you’re the one to shut the door, sealing the two of you inside your bedroom. How out of place he looks, this huge hulking figure in your untainted room, the walls pastel, the sheets light and the curtain frilled. 

“I could have told you your room looks like this.” His grin is wolfish, the imposition feels very metaphorical and he revels in it. He’s absent-mindedly touching things, a bottle of perfume on your drawers, then a teddy on your bed, you like how they look in his hands, delicate, breakable. 

You find yourself speaking before the words are clear in your mind, “William…” He turns to you, still holding the fucking bear, visible overjoyed to be in your private space, piece by piece you’ve let him in here, first through a camera now this, it’s all very correct. 

“Hm?”

You’re flummoxed for words, arms folded across your chest in some vain effort to keep yourself together, “I want to t-touch you. On th-the bed.” The request takes a part of your soul with it, it’s unveiled and glaringly obvious, but there’s no other way to say it, that is what you want. Well, some of it. 

Chuckling, he throws the teddy aside, “That is the best thing anyone has ever asked me.” He means it, he could touch the peak now with just how pretty you’re talking to him. 

He moves slightly and you interrupt him, the rest of your want raising its whiny head. “You’ll have to take t-that off.” You’re pointing at his trousers and he laughs, remembering the muck decorating his legs, but the laughter dies quickly and he fixes you with a quizzical look, eyes narrowed as he again reads you like a book. 

“Because of the mud, or another reason?” He teases and you bite your lip, your answer wearing you, more than the other way around. Much like the way smugness is wearing him. “I know you like to see, you’re quite fascinated, aren’t you?” He grabs himself as he speaks, crude, garish and vulgar, and it prickles your sides. 

“You like to see me.” You retort, trying not to feel the embarrassment your brain really wants you to. 

“Very true.” 

…

Fascinated is perhaps the right word, you are fascinated by him. It’s more than just that he’s handsome or you find him attractive, it’s curiosity, desire to understand. The broadness of his shoulders, the muscle on his arms, the hair on his chest, his legs, his cock; it is fascinating. 

You start off sitting beside him on your duvet, enjoying the sight of him with his dick in your hand. Observing what your action is doing, how his breath changes for you, then a deep groan when you smear the precum beading on his tip. It’s driving you crazy and in a sudden realisation you need more. You want it all, want to know how his thickness is going to feel inside you, good, bad, dirty and ugly, you need it. 

And you tell him.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                The view of William above you is insane, the dark greying hair trailing down his chest leading your gaze down to the sight of him stroking his cock, positioned above your cunt. He presses against you occasionally, your hot slick beckons for him and he thrusts himself through it, restraint a heavy weight on his shoulders. It’s maddening. 

“Please…” You whine, any trace of dignity you had is long gone, you’re corroded, worn down to your bare minimum and you need him to feel the same way. 

He takes his eyes off your glistening cunt to flash you a devastating smirk, “Please, what?” The teasing makes you shift underneath him, desperate for more, that’s just how he wants you. As he watches you he pleasures himself, it’s bloody stupid how weak your pretty hole has got him.

The lewd words burn in your throat, there’s no debate in saying them, not anymore, “Fuck me… please.” You manage to choke out, but it still fails to convey your need to be filled. His fingers had made you see stars, but you’re greedy for more, you want him to come undone inside you. You want to drive him mad. 

Well, he didn’t expect you to say that. You want him to take your innocence right now? Right on your lacy fucking bed sheets? With your parents downstairs? Clearly you’re not thinking straight, you’re too fucked up and that is just delicious. Your plea makes his cock twitch in his hand, he wants nothing more than to stretch your sweet pussy around him but you could hardly handle his fingers. You hardly know what you’re begging for. 

“You want me inside?” As he speaks he rubs his cock over your pussy lips, there’s an almost sinister quality to his voice that makes your core tighten. 

You nod, squirming away from the teasing of your aching bundle of nerves; that’s exactly what you want. 

William sniggers, “I can’t, sweetheart. Not with everyone downstairs to hear.” You hardly notice the noises you make, but you’re vocal as anything, whining from the tiniest touch, he has no doubt his cock would make you scream. The reasoning falls on deaf ears, you don’t care because his power over you is too strong. You just want his cock inside you so he becomes as pathetic as you are. 

“Please.” You try again, this time shifting your body to roll your hips against his cock to show you’re serious, but your thighs quiver at the stimulation.  

In a sudden movement he seizes your jaw, forcing your gaze away from his cock on your swollen pussy to the dark look in his eyes. The restraint is visible, a clear crack in his in-control facade. He can’t help it, your begging is making him leak again, impatient precum oozing from his tip, begging alongside you for stimulation. How’s he supposed to hold himself back from this perfect untouched cunt right here asking him to deflower it?

“Do you even know what you’re asking for?” He speaks slow, a singsong tone to the words that’s a little sharper than intended due to the continued rolling of your hips. “It’s not to be taken lightly.” 

You watch him wide-eyed, understanding his words is a conscious effort. “It’s not just a quick fuck, sweetheart. It’s me breaking this little pussy. Taking your innocence.” He punctuated the filthy point by lining his cock up with your entrance, eliciting a terrified pang of excitement in your core. “Stretching you open. You know what that means?” 

He pauses but you don’t have the speech to answer, he thought as much, “Means it’s all mine. My little toy to use whenever I want. Break it over and over.” At this moment it doesn’t occur to you that this is the real William, not just slimy but the honest William who knows he’s bad, creepy, gross whatever you want to call it. The man who’s blatantly moulding you into something he can use, using your sexual naivety against you and playing your mind and body like a fiddle. 

You swallow, his words go straight to your cunt making you impossibly wetter. He looks down at you and his control slips from his fingertips, he knows you’re going to feel so fucking good around him, how tight and wet and fucking warm.

“That what you want?” He blatantly asks, the intention thick in the air. 

“Y-yes.” You start, your back arching a little, “I want it to be yours.” You know the words are dangerous, but you have no agency to prevent them from leaving your lips. “I want you to t-take it. Please.”  

He lets go of your jaw, a particularly mean expression possessing his face. “God, you are fucking stupid.” He speaks quietly but you hear, it stings and you’re unable to tell if he’s kidding or not. He wasn’t, you are stupid to let him get this far, and he’s stupid for going along with your begging.  

His cock is still notched tight against your entrance and he holds you squirming still with a hand on your hip. “You’re going to be quiet for me, alright? I’m giving you what you want.” His voice is thick but you hardly notice he even spoke, your heart is pounding and your whole body tense with anticipation. 

He parts your walls, pressing in slightly, just the head and your eyes ping wide. You’re wet, drenched even, ready for it but it still hurts. A noise escaped you, wounded, doubling when he presses just that little bit further. “Shh, fuck.” His curse is very telling, you’re strangling him already in the most perfect way, if he’s not careful he’s going to crack his own jaw with how tight it is in restraint. “I told you.” The words are harsher than he meant them, but seeing the tears already welling in your eyes he knows he was right. 

His hand comes over your clit, drawing a circle over the bundle and it works, a blaze of pleasure drapes over the invasion but it doesn’t distract you when he moves, forcing himself a lot further in your cunt. You cry out and in a sharp movement he covers your mouth, grunting at how you tense due to the sudden action. “Ah-You’re going to do it, sweet thing. Just relax, you’re tight as a fucking vice.” 

You try, blinking through tears, and focus on his rhythm on your clit, it’s better, easing. He moves, slowly pulling out then back in and you see it. The need for him inside, shaping your walls around him, your body squeezes him eager for him to continue. 

Your mouth is open behind his hand, muffled sounds leaving your lips, whining, mewling, hooked on the promise of overcoming the ache and snapping the coil inside you more than ever before. If your mouth was free maybe you’d say his name, or kiss him, or curse him, you don’t really know. His movement becomes better, you can take him, he knows you can. So he thrusts deep, making you accept him, your yelp is stifled and your teeth dig into the palm of his hand, it's unnoticed, overshadowed by the perfect feeling of you cunt swallowing him completely. 

“God,” He scowls. 

The pain dies again, settling back to the muted ache, you’re reeling, full more than should be possible, breathing frantically through your nose. He’s slow, pushing in and out of your hole considerately, as he’d be sure to tell you. And you quickly realise with a startling joy how he digs just right into a spot deep inside you. It’s almost blinding, engulfing you in a doubly quick need to end. 

Your cunt throbs and he flicks his eyes back to your face, what a good girl you are. He can feel the change in you, the rise of pleasure over pain, the way you panic at the growth of your end, your eyes say it all fearful of what’s going to happen. You’re close to an end, body burning and falling rigid underneath him. It hits you like a train, each time he shoves himself deep is electric, it's intense and you whiteknuckle just to take the pace he keeps as you cum around him. 

“Fuck, baby.” His words are edged with his own ruin, the rhythm of his pace growing brave, selfish, you’re taking it so well. And he loses it, no sense in him to pull out, he doesn’t care, your perfect cunt wants it. He’s biting the inside of his cheek to keep himself quiet as his warmth spills inside you, thrusts sloppy to push his cum deep inside you. You whimper, it's a dirty feeling, but a right one and seeing the look on his face you realise that you were right, he looks as pathetic as you feel.

He removes his hand from your mouth, your skin red under his grip, freeing you to moan pitifully. You’re wrecked, somehow exhausted and exhilarated at the same time. You don't know how you feel, your climax was like something unreal and when he slowly pulls out of you, you feel empty. William was right, you’re changed. 

He sits beside your form still laid exactly as he left you, your pretty pussy flushed and shining. “You alright?” 

You blink, like you somehow forgot he was a person able to speak, “Yeah, I think so.” Your voice is hoarse as fragile as the rest of you and it makes him grin. 

He looks down at you, and just laughs, at you, at him, at the situation, “What the fuck are we supposed to do now then?” 

It makes you chuckle and you run your hand over your face. Yeah, what exactly should you do now?

[chiefdirector]

Waiting | Tim Bradford | The Rookie

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six

True to his word, Tim held back and stayed in an unmarked vehicle down the street from the house that the cartel were using as a basis of their operation. It was the same one that Tim and (Y/N) had raided only three years prior. Even he could admit that it was almost poetic that it was on this property, three years ago, his and (Y/N)’s fate had been decided by Regina Diaz, and it would be here that their fate would be unsealed. It had come full circle, almost anyway: Tim was in no position for a premature celebration. So he and Chen watched and waited as they had been told to do.

“Tim…?” Lucy said, timid as she was when she had first become his rookie. “How are you?”

“I’m fine, boot.”

She pulled at her collar, trying to pick the right words. She knew that Tim could be prickly and defensive at the best of times, so today his guard would be up tenfold. However, she could also see right through the walls he worked so hard to keep up. “You know, it’s okay to be nervous. Considering how drastically things have changed these last few days.”

“Why would I be nervous? I trust (Y/N), she’s smart, she has survived this long.” 

“Then why haven't you put your wedding band back on?”

Tim didn’t respond, instead he turned away from Lucy’s concerned looks and towards the house. The rest of the team assigned to the raid had not shown up yet, they weren’t scheduled to come until the primary watch team gave the command. The primary team were in a van on the opposite side of the street, parked only a hundred yards away from him and Chen. They were almost directly in front of the house, waiting to see if any form of action began before the police troops arrived. 

If Tim had been in that van like he had wanted to have been, he would have seen a figure in a dark hoodie move around the side of the house and down the patch of grass that leads to the backyard. He would have flagged it up as suspicious, he would have recognised the hoodie as one of his own, the one that (Y/N) always stole from him. He would have noticed her entering the grounds.

“I didn’t-” Tim started, stopping when the words got stuck in his throat. He looked back to Chen who smiled softly, nodding her head to allow him to continue. “I didn’t put the ring back on because if this goes wrong today, I don’t think I would have the strength to take it off again.”

—--

As the sun began to go down, the radio in between Tim and Lucy finally sounded out with Harper’s voice as she gave the order for the operation to begin. Within seconds, police officers from multiple Wilshire divisions appeared, some on foot and others in their shops. Two SWAT teams approached shortly after. Their synchronised movements were something to gawk at as they silently fell into formation to breach the property. From where they had parked their car, Tim could see Lopez, West, and Nolan leading the front of the operation alongside Sargent Grey.

It didn’t take long for the signal to breach the property, when he heard the command go out of the radio, Tim held his breath for a second before closing his eyes. In all of his years on the force, or even before during his time serving in the Marine Corp, he had never felt so nervous, so out of control. 

“Tim, you need to breathe, it’s going to be okay.” Lucy placed her hand on her Training Officer’s shoulder. His eyes snapped open. In that moment, Lucy saw something change in his eyes, the panic that encompassed him only a few moments prior had disappeared.

“You don’t know that.” 

“Yes I do. You got the best cops in the city going in there right now. It will be okay, you have to trust that.”

“How can I? Last time we were here, we thought it was okay. Look what happened!”

“Tim, they will call us in when they have secured the place.”

Bradford turned to respond but was interrupted by the sound of bullets being shot. Instinctively, the two patrol officers reached for their weapons in case they needed to pursue anyone. Moments later, the radio rang out again. This time it was Lopez speaking. “I need multiple RA units to my location. We have casualties, three not conscious, not breathing; we also have one identified female, police detective, gunshot to shoulder, not wearing a vest. She is conscious and breathing.”

Before Angela had finished giving the report on the radio, Tim was out of the car, sprinting towards the house, gun still in hand. His mind was going a mile a minute, he knew that everybody who was a part of the bust today would have been wearing a bullet-proof vest. The only police personnel who would have been without one would have been (Y/N). She would not have had the resources to get one beforehand, she would have gone in without one. 

Air got stuck in his throat as he breached the property line and burst through the front doors. He barely noticed Chen running behind him as he began to sweep the property for (Y/N). It did not take long for him to find her. 

She was surrounded by multiple cops, some were searching for something that could aid her until the RA unit arrived, others stood back watching her from where she was crumpled to the ground. Tim barged his way through the crowd, falling to his knees at her side. He barely registered Angela next to him, holding some scrap material into (Y/N)’s shoulder to stop the bleeding.

His eyes darted all over her form, looking for more injuries. He didn’t notice anything major, except from a few scratches on her face. He then focuses on her shoulder, he couldn't see the wound under Angela’s hands but he saw how her blood had spread down her arm and soaked into her jacket and shirt.

He tentatively reached down to move the hair spread across her face, “Hey baby. It’s okay, I’ve got you. It’s going to be okay.” He tried to reassure her, but as the words spilled from his mouth he knew that his words were for him also, to remind himself that she was here, that she was real. He was not going to leave her side, not now, not ever.

(Y/N) slowly turned her head to face her husband as she heard his voice for the first time in two years. He looked older, the lines in his face had set in. The crease between his eyebrows had grown, but his eyes were the same. She never thought that she would see them again, she never thought that she would see Tim again at all.

“Tim…” (Y/N) tried to speak but her words were cut off by blood rising through her throat. She choked it back down again with a pained expression. Before she tried to speak again, her eyes rolled back into her head as she succumbed to unconsciousness.

Part Six | Part Eight

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

Tags: @xceafh @kmc1989 @buba424

Tags are open :)

[fatuismooches]

i'll brainrot with you about dottore and his sick! s/o:

clearly with s/o's conditions it's not optimal to go outside in the freezing cold, but one day the snowfall is so much more gentle outside and something like this is a rare occasion in snezhnaya. would dottore indulge them (of course with plenty of precautions taken) or would he rather not risk it at all?

your writing paints such vivid pictures in my head and i honestly love the comfort and warmth your work brings :]]

♡ 𝐒𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐲 𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐃𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐞 ♡

synopsis: Your poor health and fragile condition have consistently gotten in the way of various activities for many years. But that was going to change today, as you were going to take your first step into the flaky goodness of pure, white snow.

includes: dottore w/ gn! reader

notes: Related to the posts under my fragile reader tag. Thank you very much, I'm very glad my writing makes you happy! This was so cute, I originally planned for it to be only a couple hundred words but I went overboard and decided to make it a full-blown piece.

You used to enjoy the concept of cold. Growing up in a hot country had you deeply curious about the kind of weather that would warrant people wearing dozens of layers, bundling up to the point where they were barely recognizable. You wanted to go somewhere that snowed one day, you once told your lover as he sat at his desk, tinkering with Archons knows what. Dottore only grunted in response, saying that if research led him there, you would accompany him. As a matter of fact, there were some Ruin Guards he wanted to take a look at in Dragonspine. You hummed, enjoying the moment as you continued to flip through the picture book.

But now, you couldn’t bring yourself to like the cold. You think that if you weren’t sick, you’d enjoy the weather in Snezhnaya much more, but the cold permeates your body even though you’re inside the lab. (Dottore had to force Pantalone to give him more funds to install more heaters.) You didn’t like to even walk through the halls of Dottore’s complicated maze-like lab because they were too big, making the cold air suffocate you all around. (Unless you’re accompanied by a clone. Somehow, Dottore had implemented a feature into his clones to heat up and become warm, so when you’d cling to them, you wouldn’t be cold anymore. You enjoyed it thoroughly because the reactions of the clones were cute.)

Many days, you spent the time looking out the tightly sealed window at the snow. Despite living in the snow-covered nation for so long, you had never sunken a foot into the powdery fluff. When Zandik was recruited into the Fatui, you were unconscious during the trip because your body surely would not be able to handle such an extraneous journey. How would it feel, you thought? You’ve frequently asked some of your favorite clones to tell you how the snow felt. (You felt slightly embarrassed asking your real lover.) Apparently, most of the time the snow was deep and crunchy from continuous snowfall. If you weren’t careful where you walked, half of your leg could get swallowed underneath! Many children liked to form things like balls out of the snow and play games with them. But sometimes, very rarely, the snow lightens and melts, depending on how the Tsaritsa feels. It’s a beautiful scene, apparently.

You had lost faith in the Gods long ago after your mysterious illness suddenly struck you (Zandik never cared about them in the first place), but you hoped and prayed to any force that was willing to listen to you - please let the snow ease up, just a bit. It was a bit hypocritical since you did not like the cold, but you still desired to experience it like a normal person. You could bear the pain if only to have fun for a couple of minutes. You did not tell your lover this; one, because you knew it was impossible with your condition, and two, you did not want to bother him with your frivolous wants. But it seemed like you were too obvious with your intentions, as one of the first things you’d do in the morning was drag yourself out of bed, despite the great amount of energy it took, to go to your favorite window and peer outside.

“You seem to be quite interested in watching the snow lately, aren’t you?” The deep voice behind you made you jump.

“Zandik! Oh, you scared for there,” you pressed a hand to your heart and quickly took a seat that was already permanently placed near the window, already tired from the past few minutes. Your lover walked toward you, hands carefully placed behind his back, each step calculated. You couldn’t help but find some happiness in that - the way he walked was always so commanding and enchanting somehow, hypnotizing too.

“The weather here is quite different from Sumeru,” you observed. “I can’t help but be intrigued by it.”

“Is that so? It is quite boring to me. The landscape is always the same and it is rather hard to conduct experiments outside because of it.” 

“Heh, it’s always the experiments and research with you. At least try to enjoy it,” you teased, rolling your eyes at him playfully. Dottore shook his head and gently flicked your forehead, causing you to pout.

“Furthermore, the cold isn’t good for you. I believed you didn’t like it, anyway,” Dottore scoffed.

“I know,” you said softly. “But I still want to experience it,” the last part was a mumble that was meant for yourself, but Dottore heard it anyway, making his eyes widen as a thought began to quickly form.

“Do you… want to go outside and see the snow?”

The fact that you were caught made you bolt up straight and quickly try to deny it. “No, no, I’m fine. It was just a fleeting thought,” you quickly reassured him.

Dottore doesn’t know why he didn’t realize it sooner. Of course you would be bored, waking up every day to the same redundant routine, watching everyone go about their daily lives while you sat there, helpless to do anything besides wait for him to cure you. Of course you would want to do something new, after hearing the same repetitious lines of how you’ll get better soon, how he’s working on a new medicine, how it’ll all be over soon, but when was “soon” coming? How long has the envy of others been eating you up? The thought of that made his smile slip.

A soft goodbye snapped him out of his thoughts. A clone had come to administer your daily medicine and get you ready for the day. Dottore quickly put his usual smirk back on and nodded at you. Your gentle smile and a wave bid him farewell, as the clone wrapped his arm around you to support you as you walked away. But Zandik was still thinking. When was the last time he had seen you with a big smile? A big, goofy one that stretched your lips beautifully and made your face hurt from smiling that hard. The answer was, he did not know. The most he could recall was from his Akademiya days, where you would greet him with one of those grins every morning, always a ball of energy.

The fact followed him throughout the day as he worked. The mere idea that it was bothering him so much was simply absurd. But he could not forget about the times his clones has reported to him about the times you cried. When you refused to leave your room some days or didn’t want to eat. He was not one for any type of comfort, not when his hands had committed some of the most wicked acts to man. How could he be, when the first thing on his mind was to hurt others, but the last thing he wanted to do was hurt you? 

He did not know what to do, where to place his hands or if saying something would make the situation worse. He did not know what to do other than let you rest your head on his shoulder, allowing you to take his hand and place it on your head, giving him the okay to stroke your hair. He let you babble to your heart’s content and awkwardly wiped your tears away, for when he looked into your painfully bleak eyes that were once filled with life, he did not think he could refuse you.

It was an odd feeling for him. He took pleasure in seeing the pain of others, delighting at the moment when they lost all hope. He found it amusing when others took a stand against him, only to see their expression fall when they realized it was fruitless. But you? The thought of that happening to you made him… He had to do something.

—

One day you woke up, ready to live out another normal and boring day. As you sleepily rubbed your eyes, you noticed something was a bit off. Usually, you could hear the wind howling and the snow slamming against the windows, even if it was just a little bit. But there was nothing. As you lay on the bed, collecting enough energy to get out of bed, a glimmer of hope grew within you. With a great push, you heaved yourself out of bed and made a beeline to the window. You sat down on the chair, and pulled the curtains to the side, prepared to be disappointed, but what you saw blew you away.

The snow had melted significantly, leaving a moderate and easily walkable layer on the ground. The snowfall had reduced greatly, and it no longer pounded on the window. Instead, it flew down calmly from the sky, which was still gray, but it was a beautiful, hazy kind of gray. Now that there weren’t mass amounts of snow blowing your view, you noticed there was some kind of river around the lab. It was still frozen over, but the ice sparkled beautifully and reflected the snow-covered trees. Speaking of trees, you didn’t know it was possible for such boring things to look so pretty. Copious amounts of snow rested on the limbs, occasionally slumping to the ground with a thud, and the process kept repeating as snowfall continued.

Your jaw was slack the whole time, as you continued to take in the breathtaking scenery. Snezhnaya just got ten times better, you thought.

“I see you’ve seen the change in weather, [Name]. It seems to be to your liking.”

“Eep!” you started at the assertive voice that was practically in your ear. Dottore had snuck up on you while you were too entranced by the view to notice him. “You need to stop doing that,” you scolded him. 

His deep chuckle tugged at your heartstrings. “To think that after this many times, my experiment’s results have not changed. Truly fascinating.”

You tried to ball your hands into fists to prevent yourself from blushing. “A-Anyway, you should have woken me up earlier! I didn’t think this was possible!” you fretted, still in utter shock at this. 

“That, I could not do. You know your body requires a great amount of rest.” You couldn’t argue with that. He was right.

“Now, is there something you want to do?” It was as if he had somehow planned for this to happen.

You fiddled with your sweater, trying to find the words for your outlandish request. “Sooo, um, I know this may not be possible, but can I go outside? I know with my health and stuff it may be hard but… just for a bit, please,” your voice got quieter and quieter towards the end of your sentence. You bit your lip in anticipation and nervously kept your eyes trained on the rug-covered floor. The few seconds of silence that passed felt endless.

“Yes, you may-”

“Really?!?!”

Your legs were swinging happily, and there it was. Pearly whites peeked out as you grinned cheerfully and you threw your hands up into the air. The smile he had not seen in far too long.

“But, I will accompany you, and you must stay by me at all times. You must follow all of my directions as well. Do you understand?”

A walk with your lover too? “Yes, yes I’ll do anything you ask!” you easily complied. You gathered all of your energy and squeezed your partner as hard as you could (which, wasn’t that hard, but to you it was) taking him off guard. You buried your face into his midsection and refused to let go, your words of thanks being muffled from being so close to him. Dottore was stiff at first but then eased into your embrace, fingering a cord of your hair.

You were feeling a burst of energy from this exciting news, so you had to do one more thing. You released him, and when you looked up, you could see that same self-assured, confident smile that you loved. Before he could speak again, you tugged on his blue ascot with as much force as you could summon, pulling him farther down to your level allowing you to smash your lips onto his. Catching him off guard allowed you to be in control for a couple of seconds, but it is quickly relinquished as your lover takes over quickly, effortlessly deepening the kiss. When the two of you parted, he had an almost smug grin on his face, displaying his pointy shark-like teeth.

“My my, quite eager, aren’t we? I have not seen these kinds of surprises since those old days.”

“Well,” you pecked both of his soft cheeks again, “you know I always make sure my doctor knows how I feel.” At that point, there was a knock on the door and one of Dottore’s clones came in to help you with your morning routine.

“Go about your day. I will come to get you when it’s time.” You smiled and squeezed his hand once more as you rose from the chair. Dottore’s hands returned behind his back as he watched the clone and you leave.

“Perhaps I should start to add new variables to my experiment… the results are quite interesting indeed.”

—

You could not focus on anything for the whole time. Your mind was all over the place thinking about how satisfying it would be to sink your foot into the fluffy goodness.

Apparently, Dottore had designed some kind of special jacket for you to wear, along with a scarf, gloves, earmuffs, boots, and more. It had some kind of built-in heater somehow, which made everything consistently warm including your body. Normally you’d listen to his rambles on how he created it and such, but you were too giddy at the thought of freaking snow. (And also how he took the time to make all this stuff for you. It probably only took him a short amount of time considering how intelligent he was, but the action warmed your heart.)

There were quite a few clones in the lab area watching you. You think that they seemed happy for you. One of them was helping you put the gear on while your lover set down some ground rules. Zandik also had on a big fluffy coat, which made him look rather cute. You kind of wanted to fit yourself inside of it with him.

“First, you must stay by my side at all times. You’ll probably have to hold onto my arm to steady yourself. We will be following a path. This means no straying in any other direction, at least without my permission. Of course, if you feel that you can’t handle the weather anymore, let me know immediately. Do you agree to abide by these rules?”

You held back a sigh and a laugh. You knew that all of these precautions were necessary but they were still a drag. Plus, the way your lover said it all seriously as if your very existence was on the line made you want to giggle.

“Yes, Zandik. I agree to all of your rules,” you huffed as the clone finished zipping up the jacket. “My common sense is still intact, you know.”

Even though he did not show it at all, Dottore was the slightest bit uneasy. There were many things he did not understand or know about your illness. Would the sudden change in the environment trigger you? He was not sure, but he already prepared for the worst. If anything, it would be a learning experience too - to see how much your body could handle. He was ready to take notes in his head.

“Come here.”

You slowly trekked your way toward him, getting used to the feel of the long boots. It was hard to imagine wearing these every day, but you soon fell into your lover’s chest as he began to stroke your hair.

“Well then, let us go,” he wrapped a steady arm around your waist to help you balance. “Watch the lab for me,” Dottore directed the other clones as they waved goodbye to you.

They were so cute, to be honest. Especially the ones from the Akademiya days.

—

You did not realize the extent of how big Dottore’s lab was until now. There were so many paths and rooms you walked by that you had no idea existed. What was beyond those doors? Some questions were better left unanswered. You were just letting your partner guide you as you clung to his side (the walking was a lot) until you reached a great, big door with a keypad.

“Are you ready?” 

You eagerly nodded. 

“And you do still remember the-” 

“Yes, Zandik, I remember everything you told me,” you groaned. “Please just open the door already.”

“Patience, [Name],” he chuckled. “I look forward to seeing your reaction.” He let go of you and typed a whole long password on the keypad. And in an instant, loud noises exuded from the door as it began to open from the sides.

The first thing you felt was the puff of cold air hitting your cheeks, instinctively making you raise your arms to cover it. In a couple of seconds, the door opened completely and you could feel the light shine down on you. You put your hands down, and the snowy, outside world was laid before you.

It was majestic. The snow has managed to be untainted by any other substances, allowing it to be a pristine white that covered the landscape. Slowly, you took a few steps forward as Dottore carefully watched you, until you were standing at the edge where the floor ended, and the snow began. You took a quick glance at your lover and he motioned for you to go on. And so you did. You stepped into the snow.

The first thing you noticed was the crunch of the snow under your boots. It was oddly satisfying. And the way your foot sunk so easily into, it kind of reminded you of quicksand. But you could kick it around so easily, yet you could see it was hard enough to be used to form something solid. The cold hit you like a ton of bricks, but you were doing everything in your power to withstand it. The enhanced gear from your partner helped a lot. But, all you could say was wow. You were starting to get a bit jealous of the people who could walk in such surroundings every day with ease.

Dottore on the other hand was quite satisfied. The scenery was not what he found appealing. Rather, it was you. He found no interest in such worldly things, but your reactions were ever-changing and amusing to him. A snowflake fell on your nose and melted. You wrinkled your nose at the unfamiliar feeling. And he couldn’t help but chuckle at that.

“Hold onto me. The road is quite icy and slippery. You need to be very careful.” Zandik linked his arms with you, and you gratefully reciprocated.

You could not keep your eyes off anything and everything you saw. You loved Sumeru, but Snezhnaya was starting to grow on you. It was beautiful. But what you loved, even more, was talking to Zandik. You two had not had this much time together in far too long. He enthusiastically prattled on about his experiments, his creations. He even told you about his clones’ journey to Sumeru, and how the almighty Traveler was powerless against them. You indulged him of course. You had always loved his voice, and you found it rather endearing when he’d go on his rambles.

Dottore intentionally made sure the pace was slow and steady, so as to not rush your body or make you too tired. But of course, even after only a bit of time passed, you needed to rest. Thankfully, the two of you reached some kind of gazebo with a couple of benches inside. You had no idea this existed, and it seemed Dottore didn’t either, which didn’t surprise you. That man probably only cared about the entrance and exit to his lab.

The bench was cold but you did not care. Having your lover with you for this long already made you feel warm and fuzzy. Furthermore, you’d be crazy not to take advantage of the situation. You called his name and before you could make a move, he spoke.

“How do you feel?”

“Huh?”

“Has your heart rate increased since the exposure to the snow and cold? Do you feel light-headed? How easily can you move your arms and legs?”

“O-oh, well… um, I feel cold. My heart is a bit fast from the walking, but nothing out of the ordinary. My legs hurt from the walk too… but I’m used to it.”

“Interesting…” Zandik put his hand to his chin as he seemed to think. You sighed, and shifted closer to him, beginning to run your hands up his coat, which clearly grabbed his attention but he watched you silently. Your hands reached his soft cheeks and brushed over the cold exterior of his mask.

“You know, you should take this off more often,” you suggested as your hands began to creep under the sides of the mask. “There’s no one around…” you hummed. Dottore made no move to stop you so you easily slipped the mask off, revealing his sharp crimson eyes boring into you, and scars from long ago. Of course, you couldn’t help but smile at the face of your lover. 

You moved in to press your lips against his, pleased at how you could now gently trace your fingers over his scars. No matter how long you knew him, he was sensitive to touch around that area, so you always made sure to be careful.

It was an odd, but strangely good feeling, Dottore thought. One he did not know he missed, as you began to pepper kisses along the top of his face. It had been a while since the two of you had kissed for so long, which was a result of your lack of liveliness due to your illness. It seems the new surroundings really did help you. He would have to keep that in mind.

“You’re so cute,” you giggled. He frowned at that and grabbed both your wrists, pushing your back onto the bench, and making you yelp.

“Enough of that. I believe that all of this has gone to your head,” Dottore’s domineering tone was back again.

“I was just- eep!” Your words were cut short as Zandik’s lips began to mark your neck.

“The human body’s temperature can go up a substantial amount just from kissing. Would you care to experiment the limits of that with me? You would be the perfect test subject,” you felt his unhinged grin spread against your neck.

“After all, I wouldn’t want you becoming too cold now, hmm?” His impossible strength easily overpowered you as he moved to hold both your wrists with one hand, while his free one rested on your thigh.

As you relinquished yourself to him, your lips were claimed an innumerable amount of times, a clear reminder of who you belonged to.

—

You had to turn in early for the night. The miniature adventure was so, so fun, and it felt like you kicked your illness in the ass for a bit, but now you really had to get some rest to recover what little strength you had. Surprisingly, Zandik was there with you this time, instead of one of his clones. 

“...I’m sleepy, Zandik.”

“Of course. Your body has experienced much more physical exertion than usual. It needs time to relax.” You sighed, letting the warmth of the blankets begin to take you to dreamland.

“Hey, Zandik?”

“Yes, [Name]?”

“Remember when we were in the Akademiya, and during the night, I’d go down into your bunk bed and sleep with you? Hehe…”

“Yes, I remember rather clearly, the intrusion of my privacy and theft of my pillows,” he sighed. The first time you did that, he did not expect to be entranced by the sunlight cascading onto your peaceful face, the fluttering of your eyelashes, and the occasional quirk of your lips as you clearly dreamt of something good. But he had no knowledge of how to handle these feelings, so he shoved you off the tiny bed, rudely waking you up. You ended up walking around the Akademiya with a bump on your head after that.

“I was trying to give you hints, Zandik. You were just dense,” you pouted. “Hey, you should come and lay with me for a bit. Like the old days.”

Dottore was hesitant. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to, rather, he was so incredibly busy, especially after today. To be more precise, he felt that time not spent on finding a cure for you was time inefficiently used (most of the time.)

You tugged on his sleeve pleadingly. “Just for five minutes, until I nod off…”

He couldn’t bring himself to deny you, as he slipped under the covers with you. The softness of the mattress, plush blankets, and pillows that had your scent almost made him do a double take. It had been a long time since he was in a bed in general. Perhaps just a few hours of rest wouldn’t hurt. It would boost his effectiveness drastically…

You immediately scooted your body towards his and pressed it into his, nudging your face into his chest. He came to rest his hand on your head, while the other was loosely thrown over your waist.

“I miss you,” you softly uttered. He did not respond, nor did you expect an answer - what could he say anyway? The soft stroking on your head was more than enough for you at this moment, and it quickly lulled you to sleep.

“Thank… you.” You were out like a light, while your lover looked at you, absentmindedly fiddling with a strand of your hair.

It was no simple task to make this happen. But as a scholar, of course, he was able to negotiate. For once, it wasn’t for his own gain, but for you. The results? It was a complete and utter success. 

Dottore could not lie, he felt as though he was back at the Akademiya with you. He remembers the two of you walking down the hallways, your chatty and sweet self a stark contrast to his rather irritated and know-it-all aura. How you would hug him from behind late in the night as he worked at his desk, begging and whining for him to go to sleep as you both had long lectures in a few hours.

He admittedly wants to see you take the first step into a raging blizzard. He wants to see you brave the cold with ease. He wants to see you swing your sword without abandon again, not afraid to take on anyone in a verbal or physical fight. He wanted his assistant back: the one who would be ready to jump down the throat of someone who dared to question him, the one who organized his notes in the most efficient manner.

The God of Wisdom once told him that his research was insulting, contradictory to the rules and ways of life. Now that he looked back on it, he found it amusing - even a Godly being was held back by such drivel. But it did not matter to him. There was no rule or barrier he wasn’t willing to cross in order to cure you, as he had already done it multiple times with no remorse. He would oversee your absolute recovery personally.

After all, there were many more snowy days to come.

Bonus:

“You know, Arlecchino, I saw the most interesting thing the other day,” a soft voice echoed throughout the room.

“Hmm? What was it?”

“I happened across our lovely Doctor going into Her Majesty, The Tsaritsa’s chambers. For what, I wonder? Hehe…”

“...I guess that [Name] person truly does mean something to him, if he was willing to go that far.”

[all-mirth-no-matter]

Time After Time | Chapter Nine

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Reader, Tommy Shelby x Original Female Character

Summary: You’re invited to stay the night at the Delphi camp. Despite the the way you feel after your reading, Tommy urges you not to cause trouble and to pretend like everything’s okay until you leave in the morning. Easier said than done…

Warning: language, alcohol, harassment, ethnic slur, almost smut

ao3 link | catch up on tumblr here

Chapter Nine: Dancing in the Moonlight

We like our fun and we never fight. You can't dance and stay uptight, it's a supernatural delight. Everybody was dancin' in the moonlight.  — Dancing in the Moonlight, King Harvest

You were not a light weight. 

Working in a bar for many years and having learned quite a few drinking games in college, your tolerance for alcohol had grown to an impressive height. 

At least, that’s what you thought. 

The thing was, having traveled back a hundred years, the food and drinks were a completely different animal. 

For starters, just the simple access to food was something that, even to this day, you were still getting adjusted to. For the first month, you didn’t think you’d ever go a day when the subtle ache in your stomach from hunger would subside. It felt like a permanent fixture of your daily routine at that point. 

You seriously could not wait until home refrigerators became an affordable thing. Or non-mice-infested pantries. 

The hunger began to ease once your friendship with Ada deepened and your job with the Shelbys became routine. You weren’t sure if Polly could instinctively sense your in-neediness, or if it was just part of her caretaker character after looking after her niece and nephews for most of their lives — but either way, Polly was always shoving a plate or cup of something in front of you when you found yourself sitting in the family kitchen or the sitting room. 

You thought it was odd at first, especially at the beginning when you didn’t think she liked you at all. But eventually you came to understand, and appreciate.

That appreciation bloomed tenfold when the boys came back and you stopped going over to the Shelby house for a couple weeks. Especially on the days when you were so busy and worked at the pub for such long hours, you’d get home and realized you hadn’t had a bite to eat at all since you woke up that morning. 

You didn’t let yourself have too many of those days before you got smart, thinking ahead to stash some food in the pub office to eat on a break or when you got off work. 

Thankfully, the night you’d played your drinking game with Tommy had been one of those days when you’d remembered to eat. 

Today, you were beginning to realize, had not been one of those days. 

After you and Tommy left Madam Despoina’s caravan, Johnny Dogs led you both to a bon fire and a blur of people shoved a plate of something in your right hand and a cup of something else in your left. 

Not giving a flying fuck in the world about what was in the cup, you knew it had to be alcohol and you were desperate for some kind of solace from the absolute madness that you’d just had to endure. 

So you downed the cup. And an instant later, someone was refilling it and you graciously downed it again without even so much as looking at your plate. 

How did they expect you to eat after everything that’d just happened? How did Tommy expect you to just hang out with these people like their leader hadn’t just mind fucked the hell out of you? How were you supposed to act normal, like nothing happened, when you couldn’t even understand how your feet were moving under your body at this very moment? 

Your cup was full again. By the time you felt a pair of hands grab your waist and pull you toward a seat by the fire, it was empty. 

Without even looking to see who’s hands were on you, you knew it was Tommy. You should have been over analyzing the way your body had grown so comfortable with these small touches so quickly, but your brain was fritzing too much to appreciate again. 

“You need to relax,” you heard softly, the vibrate of his voice against your ear and body heat against your side made you shutter. 

Someone came over to refill your glass again, but before you could raise it to your lips, Tommy relinquished the drink from your grasp. Your brow furrowed as you looked over at him, noticing him give a pointed look at the refiller before meeting your eyes. 

His brow lifted at your confusion and nodded toward the still untouched plate in your other hand. “Not ‘nother sip until you eat.” 

You pouted slightly, missing the way his stern expression turned into amusement by your disappointment as you started to dig into the meat.

“If you expect me to relax and be sober tonight after what just happened, you’re crazy —“ 

“What I expect is for you to not cause trouble, to play merry guest to our hosts so that we get out of here unscathed in the morning,” his deep low voice vibrated through you once more at his closeness, and it made you shiver again. 

He mistook your body’s reaction to his voice for being cold and wrapped his arm around you, rubbing your shoulder to try and warm you up while ordering you to keep eating. His body felt like a fortress around yours, and your brain began to slow in its spiraling. 

You looked up at Tommy, watching the light from the fire dance across his brilliant blues as they continued to scan your surroundings. A feeling crept up in you as you outlined the profile of his face, focusing on where sharp lines met soft curves until you felt him pull you even closer to him, the arm around you tightening. 

“May we help you?”

For a moment you thought Tommy was talking to you, having been so focused on him that you hadn’t heard anyone else approach the two of you. 

Your head finally turned and your eyes adjusted until they landed on the man who escorted the three of you into the camp standing in front of you. His eyes were moving between you and Tommy, lingering longer on you, which caused Tommy’s grip to tighten again. 

“Just wanted to see if the lady wanted to dance,” the man replied, sounding innocent enough as he stepped aside and gestured to the group of people dancing next to the fire. Music was playing somewhere on the other side and you were surprised that you hadn’t noticed it before. 

“Perhaps later,” Tommy answered for you. “After she’s had a chance to finish eating.”

The plate that was still in your hand suddenly felt heavy at his words, remembering his instructions. 

You were hating that in the last couple days, you felt like your brain was constantly trying to catch up with your surroundings. Usually you prided yourself on your awareness, but ever since Tommy flew into your life it felt like you couldn’t keep up. 

It didn’t help that you were at least moderately buzzed at this point. 

“Dancing would be fun,” you said, mostly to yourself, once the man left.

You felt Tommy sigh as you continued to pick off another piece of the meat.

“Fine,” Tommy said, rising from his seat. You shivered at the quick removal of his body heat from your side as you looked up at him confused. He offered his hand to you, “Let’s dance.”

“Um,” you hesitated, but moved to set down your plate as you took his hand and he pulled you upright. Your eyes scanned the bon fire where the others were dancing as Tommy led you closer, his hand on your back. “I, um — I actually don’t really know how to dance.” 

“Really?” He seemed genuinely surprised at your reveal, pulling you closer to him as you got to the dirt dance floor. “Well, allow me the honor of teachin’ you.” 

He smiled as he faced you, taking your right hand in his and you instinctively placed your left hand on his shoulder. Your eyes continued to scan behind Tommy, trying to take in the motions of those around you to mimic as best you could. You saw Johnny Dogs spinning a woman around, both enjoying themselves to the upbeat tempo. There didn’t seem to be a pattern, but everyone looked like they knew exactly what they were doing. It eerily reminded you of dance clubs back in your time — rhythmic chaos.

“Eyes here,” Tommy’s soft voice snapped your eyes back to his, feeling his hand settle once again at the base of your back, pulling you closer to him. “The dancin’ at a gypsy camp is much different than a ballroom. You’ll find it’s quite difficult to waltz when the mud sticks to your soles.” 

You chuckled at that, still feeling a little insecure as he began to move, taking a step backwards, and then forward, as your bodies began to hop to the beat. It was simple, like walking. But you couldn’t stop your eyes from watching your feet, unsure where Tommy’s lead was going to take you and paranoid that you’d step on his feet. 

“Eyes, Y/N,” Tommy said again, his voice with more authority but still amused as you looked sheepishly back up at him. He chuckled, “If you watch your feet you’re bound to trip. Keep your eyes on your partner and your body will follow.”

“Tell that to your feet later,” you countered, still skeptic in his advice. 

“Everyone can do the foxtrot — even me.”

Your chin nudged to the people beside you, who were dancing much wilder than you and Tommy. “And them? What dance are they doing?” 

Tommy shrugged, “A variety, I suppose. Looks fun, dunnit?” 

At that, Tommy pushed you outward and whipped the hand still holding yours so you’d spin back into him, your arm and his now wrapped around you as your body collided with his. You squealed in surprise, returning back to your original position. Tommy was smiling down at you as he pulled you in closer, moving your bodies faster than previous as the music quickened. 

“It’s not far off from the dancing you do in the Garrison,” he reminded you. Your mouth opened to counter, a flush of embarrassment of him having watched you dance and sing when you thought you were alone in the pub, but he stopped you. “Just have fun with it. Don’t think, just feel.” 

You hushed your original response and squeezed your lips together. Your eyes moved between his, “First horse steering, now dancing. What else can you teach me?” 

He hummed, his cheek rising in amusement as his gaze moved lower to your lips. 

Of course, Johnny Dogs chose that time to approach the two of you, dancing happily and obliviously as he shouted his greeting over the music. 

“Johnny would be a much better teacher of dancing, I’m afraid you’ve exhausted my abilities,” Tommy said with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. You doubted his words, but Johnny perked up at the compliment and bowed dramatically, offering his hand to you politely. 

You hesitated, not wanting to leave the comfort of Tommy’s embrace. Before you could counter, Tommy was handing you off and taking a step back. You missed the warning look shared between Tommy and Johnny Dogs as the latter pulled you closer to the group. 

You looked behind you as Tommy walked back toward the log you’d previously been sitting at, his hands shoving into his pockets. 

Some time passed (ten minutes, an hour, you had no idea) and you were learning that Johnny Dogs was an excellent distraction from your own intrusive thoughts. That, and the drink that kept appearing in your hands. By the fourth or fifth time Johnny Dogs had you spinning with his hand over your head, you found yourself thinking less about the circumstances of where you were and why, and even less about your out-of-time dancing skills, and actually began to relax. 

And though you missed the intimacy of Tommy’s dancing, you found that Johnny Dogs was wonderful company. He was a good-time-Charlie if you’d ever seen one, and kept you smiling and laughing with every hop, skip, and beat. 

You were spinning again, giggling as you kept your eyes closed before your body collided into another. The person grabbed your waist, and for a moment you thought it was Tommy finally coming back to join you. 

But you quickly realized that the touch wasn’t the same, and turned until you faced the man who’d asked you to dance earlier. 

You still didn’t know his name, but he smiled and pulled you in closer, taking your right hand into his left and sliding his right hand around to your back. He held you like he knew you, and all your instincts told you to pull away. But you couldn’t help but hear Tommy’s voice in the back of your mind telling you to behave, play nice until morning. 

“Finally let you off his leash, did’he?” The man said with a wicked grin as he pulled you closer to him. 

You narrowed your eyes at the implication that you were some kind of dog, and was about to say so when he continued. 

“Madam Despoina told us you were someone special,” he went on, his eyes scanning your face, “said to be on our best behavior and to leave ya be. We were placing bets on who ya were. My guess was the missing princess.”

Your brow creased at that, for a moment forgetting the creepy grip and focusing on his words. “Missing princess?”

He chuckled, “Aye. Many a royal blood ‘as come to our camp or requested the Madam’s presence. You’d be surprised how many queens and princesses I’ve seen since joining the camp. They’re never as pretty as you expect them to be. You on the other hand—“

His finger ran down the side of your face before you shrugged away, his hand still around your waist. 

“I was wrong though. No way you’re the missing princess. I’ve ‘eard Russians before, and they sound nothin’ like ya.”

Russian princess? You thought, trying to filter through your rolodex of historical royals. The obvious came to mind. 

“Anastasia? Really?” your voice was less humorous and more ‘are you an idiot’ sounding than you’d meant. 

The infliction didn’t go unnoticed. The man’s smiling face hardened slightly and his grip around your hand tightened. You immediately regretted your tone and looked over your shoulder to where Tommy had been sitting, but the log was empty. 

“He’s gone,” the man said, knowing who you were looking for. “Went to get his own fortune told, no doubt. Men will pay or do anything for an audience with the Pythia.”

It seemed the old woman carried on the tradition of her ancestors. You wondered if this man was right and tried to discretely look around the camp for him, or even Johnny Dogs. Anyone to keep you from doing something that you’d later get in trouble for. 

“Come on, doll face. What, are ya not having fun with me?” he asked, his voice back to what it’d been previously. It reminded you of every guy who’d never taken no for an answer back in your day. 

“I’m just tired,” you finally mustered, trying to pull away from his grip. “I want to go find my friends.”

“Tired, huh? I can find you a place to lay down—”

“I don’t think so,” your voice stronger, your resolve to behave quickly starting to crack with the way this guy wouldn’t let go of you. “Please, let go of me.”

“But you’re drunk, love. Wouldn’t want’ya to fall. That face is so pretty. The Madam wouldn’t forgive me if I let anything happen to ya.” His grip tightened enough to pull your body close against him, this time without the pretense of dancing. He lifted his hand and moved your hair behind your ear, your skin flinching at his touch as you tried to shrug away again. 

You looked around to see if anyone else was noticing the harassment, but during your dance he’d managed to pull far enough from the fire where no one was paying the two of you any mind. 

“I doubt she’d be happy with you pushing yourself on her guest,” you tried to bite out, still trying to maintain some kind of politeness even though you were two seconds away from kicking the guy in the balls and running. 

His eyes narrowed and smile began to fall as his hand grabbed the side of your head, his fingers forcing your face to look up at him while his thumb spread harshly along your cheek. “She said you were important. That you had a gift. Know what that says to me? That you can make someone a lot of money, eh?”

“Get the fuck off me,” you finally spit, balling up the man’s shirt in your fists that were sandwiched between your bodies as you tried to push him away. 

But his grip tightened as his head began to move closer to your face. You thought for sure he was going to try and force himself on you, and you were already prepping to slam your head into his face before his lips could even try and touch yours. 

You didn’t get the chance to. Suddenly, the man was being pulled backwards and Tommy’s face appeared over his shoulder. 

“Mind tellin’ me what you’re doing?” Tommy asked the man, surprisingly calm. 

The man shoved out of his grasp and shook his shoulders. “We were just dancin’!”

You scoffed, “Yeah, and I’ll dance my foot in your ass the next time you grab me like that!”

The man growled, taking a step forward toward you before Tommy grabbed him by the collar, fist full of shirt as he pivoted himself between the two of you and pulled him closer to his face. 

“Do you know who I am?”

The man tried to shove away, but Tommy’s grip was strong and moved to his throat. The creep looked between his captor and then to you, as if you could save him. As if you’d even try. He finally coughed and nodded. 

“So you know what I do. I give you this chance because we are guests of Madam Despoina and we’re not here to make enemies. But I’ll promise you this, there will not be another chance. The next time you lay a finger on her, my blade goes through your fucking throat.”

Tommy let go of him, nearly shoving him to the ground in the process. While the man tried to catch his breath, Tommy reached behind him until your hand was safely in his own. He pulled you to his side, his eyes finally leaving the other man as you both walked back toward the fire. 

Johnny Dogs was running your way, his eyes reading the situation as he looked behind you and began an apology. 

“Save it,” Tommy spat. “Just make sure the horses are ready by dawn. We’re going to the caravan.”

Johnny nodded and you gave him an apologetic look. It wasn’t his fault that the creep had led you away. You weren’t a child and he wasn’t a baby sitter. But you doubted Tommy wasn’t thinking that way. 

He brought you to another wagon similar to the one Johnny Dogs had been driving, parked along the outskirts of the campsite. There was a small fire just outside, and a rope tied from the wagon to the nearby tree. 

You were about to walk in, the drunk part of your brain (who was trying to detach from the traumatic experience you’d just been a part of) eager to see what the inside of this caravan looked like, when Tommy stopped you. 

His grip made you jump, pulling away from it quickly, your defensive guard still sensitive after what had just happened. Tommy held up his hands, obviously reading the situation and silently apologizing. 

“Did he hurt you?” he asked, his hand reaching up to gently touch your face as his eyes scanned you over. 

You breathed out a humorless chuckle at his calmness, “How are you always so— god, you nearly killed that man after he tried to—“ your voice was surprisingly weak as the words died in your throat. 

It wasn’t the first time a man had been grabby with you. Even before your trip to the past, working in a bar and just the everyday life of a girl who enjoyed the occasional night out with her friends. You’d had guys grab you, push themselves against you, even forcibly kiss you. Thankfully, you’d never had anything go further than that. After a time that came too close with a boy you thought was a good friend, you took some self defense classes with your girl friends and started integrating kick-boxing into your workout routine. Since then, you’d only had to use your new skills a handful of times, and luckily each time you’d been able to get away or have the man back off. Even now, in the 20th century, you’d only had to physically fight off one man at the pub, and you’d been lucky to have Harry as backup. But you knew not to let your guard down, especially when you walked the streets after dark. 

What happened to you just now, well it felt much different. It wasn’t a drunkard trying to cop a feel. This man felt like he wanted to own you, control you. And you hated feeling like you couldn’t fight back, all because of whatever social standard bullshit this was supposed to be. 

Suddenly, you were angry at Tommy for having put you in that position in the first place. 

“It took everything for me not to slice his fuckin’ neck open the minute I saw his hands on you,” Tommy replied, his eyes revealing the silent rage behind them. “But that would have spawned a vendetta and a bullet with my name on it by the Delphi family.”

“That what Madam Despoina told you would happen?” you asked, deciding to test the creep’s theory. 

Tommy’s brow creased at your query, his mouth tightened and you already knew your answer. 

“I had to settle payment for our visit,” he explained evenly. “This wasn’t exactly a favor.”

Your anger evaporated as the realities of the situation came into view through your slightly more sober stupor. “How much? Whatever it was, I’ll pay you. Take it out of my paycheck, whatever you need to do.”

Tommy huffed, shaking his head before he started messing with the fire. “Drop it, Y/N—“

“I’m not a hand out, Tommy. And I’m not a doll to be played with at the will of everyone around me,” your voice was harsher than you meant it to be, obviously still affected by the days events. 

It was more than that, even. Your mother, the time jump, being a woman in the 1910s — you were constantly feeling like you were at the mercy of everyone else controlling your life, your future. 

Tommy stood up and cautiously approached you, still sensitive to what you’d just gone through. You suddenly felt dizzy — the alcohol, the adrenaline, the lack of food all in your system. Your knees buckled slightly like a scene out of a cheesy rom-com and Tommy caught you, pulling you against him to stabilize you. 

Your body froze, for a moment feeling like it was in danger again. But you immediately recognized the familiarity of Tommy’s grip and found yourself relaxing into it, trusting his hold on you. 

“You’re a strong woman,” he mused softly, lifting your head up to look at him. “I know you were holding yourself back for my sake. Next time, don’t.”

You all but growled, “You told me to behave.”

“Aye. And I behaved enough for leaving him uncut. But I’d rather face the curse of a fuckin’ angry gypsy than have someone even come close to threatening you again.”

Tommy blinked at his words, obviously surprising himself with them along with you. You didn’t know the first thing about Romani curses, but you knew enough to realize that what Tommy had just said meant something serious. 

He cleared his throat, his grip still holding onto you. “I’ll find out from Johnny Dogs who he is in the mornin’. Whoever he is, he’s high enough to be given escort duties. Believe me, I’ll make sure his actions don’t go unnoticed.”

You nodded, surprisingly okay with letting him take the reigns in how to handle this situation. 

“Go on now,” he nudged you toward the caravan. “The clothes we packed are inside. Change, and I’ll hang up your dress on the line so the mud dries by morning.”

At his words, you lifted up your skirt and felt the heaviness of the wet mud soaked in the fabric. You surprised yourself with how used to the dirt you’d gotten, not even noticing the weight anymore or that your socks were always just slightly damp. 

You climbed up the stairs and sat at the top, leaning forward to unlace your boots and slide off your shoes and sock. He tied the laces of your boots together and hung them and your socks over the line. 

You sent Tommy another look as you stood up at the top of the stairs, half worried that he’d disappear again like he had when he left you to dance. 

He seemed to recognize your look and moved to the doorway. This was the first time you’d ever been taller than Tommy, and you took in the new angle of his face as your fingers itched to reach out. 

“I’m not goin’ anywhere, love. Go, get dry and warm. I’ll stand guard right here where you can see me.”

Silently, you nodded as you finally entered the caravan. 

Inside, an oil lamp and a few candles were lit so you could see, and you were surprised at how big the inside was. It was different than the one you’d been in to meet Madam Despoina. It was interesting how much it resembled a modern day sleeping RV — bed palette against the back wall, vanity to your right, even a small stove and fireplace to your left. You ran your hand along the wall and marveled at the beauty of the carvings and ornate decorations that lavished the space. The whole thing was absolutely beautiful and you wanted to meticulously look at every single piece of art that was this caravan. 

Your foot hit the bag Tommy had packed you and you remembered what you were there for, rummaging through and grabbing the nightgown Tommy had shoved in there without you realizing. Luckily, it’d been one of the clean ones, and you sent a quick prayer to whatever god you needed to be thanking for this miracle. Even if you were in the 1910s, you’d still be mortified if you had to share a bed with a man wearing dirty clothes. 

You paused, both realizing and wondering if you actually were going to be sharing this bed with Tommy tonight. On the vanity, there was an empty bowl and pitcher of water. You peeled out of your warm clothes, peeking over your shoulder to double check that the door was still closed while still being able to see Tommy’s silhouette through the stained glass. The cold air hit your skin, and you were suddenly thankful for this centuries insistence on wearing multiple layers of clothing. 

You sacrificed a splash or two of water from the pitcher to give yourself a quick hand wash, focusing on the essentials at the moment — your hands, face, neck, arm pits, under your breasts, and between your legs, even swishing some in your mouth and spitting it into the unlit fireplace. You gave yourself a sniff with semi-satisfaction (not that you trusted your sense of smell at all anymore, though being out of Birmingham and in the outdoors definitely increased the aroma in the air) before finally throwing on the nightgown. 

You appraised yourself in the small vanity mirror, pulling the pins out of your hair and combing it with your fingers until some of the tangles released. In the nightgown, a scene from the movie The Mummy came to mind and you felt like Evie from the boat scene, realizing that in just a few fictional years Brendan Fraser would be battling over the City of the Dead. 

Shaking the frivolous thought from your head, you gathered up your clothes and finally walked back toward the door, knocking on it before opening. Tommy took them from you and secured them on the line before standing back in front of the doorway. His eyes took you in, and you suddenly felt shy, questioning the sheerness of the nightgown with the light illuminating behind you. 

“Oh, you need to change too!” You realized, almost jumping as you tried to figure out where you needed to go in order for him to do that. 

“Hand me the bag, I can change out here.”

Your brow creased. “It’s way too cold out here for you to do that.”

“It’s too cold for you to stand out here in just that as well,” he responded, gesturing toward you. Feeling even more exposed, you found yourself crossing your arms over your chest, as if that could hide anything. 

He took off his jacket, and for the first time you noticed the shoulder holster. He hadn’t had it on the other night, which you found curious, and you were realizing that aside from the blade in his hat, this was the first time you were seeing Tommy Shelby with a weapon.

Your eyes moved with the movement of his hands as he began to unhooked his watch chain before putting it and the watch back in the pocket. He shrugged off the holster, cradling it in the bend of his arm as he started unbuttoning his vest. The motion snapped you out of your gaze as you stood there awkwardly, wondering if you should be turning away to give him his privacy when he handed the contents and his hat to you. “Hang these on the hook inside.”

You moved at his instructions, ready to make yourself busy. Before you could return to the doorway, Tommy was making his way up the steps. You noticed he’d hung up his breeches, socks, and shoes, as well as put out the fire. He stood in the doorway in nothing but his pants, shirt, and shoulder holster, waiting for permission to enter the caravan from you. 

Grabbing the bag that wasn’t yours, you handed it to him and cleared your throat, trying to keep your eyes from staring too long. 

In the past few months since you’d arrived in 1918, you’d been so preoccupied with surviving and trying to figure out what was going on, your love life had been the very last thing on your mind. Even before you time jumped, you’d been going through a dry spell in your dating life.  

Tommy Shelby had reignited something that you hadn’t realized you’d been missing. And despite every reasonable argument you’d had with yourself since the moment you met him, you absolutely couldn’t deny your attraction to him on both an emotional and physical level. 

Suffice it to say, it’d been quite a while since you’d been alone with a man in a bedroom before. And of all the things, there was no way being alone with a 1918’s gangster in his underwear was on your time travel bingo card. 

You were wondering if they had the game bingo yet while Tommy rummaged through the bag, grabbing a pair of socks and handing them to you. 

“These are bound to be much warmer than whatever is in your bag. First rule we learned in France durin’ the winter was to always keep our head and feet warm and dry.”

Unsure how to respond, you grabbed the socks and followed his orders again. You realized what a militant follower you were when you had no idea what to do with yourself or how to handle your own awkwardness. As you sat on the bed and put on the socks, you watched Tommy start up the fireplace easily, mumbling something about wishing he’d done it earlier. But you were already starting to feel warmer with the door shut, the thicker socks, and the extra body heat within the small space. 

You were trying to convince yourself that it was safe falling asleep in this wooden box with a fire burning when Tommy’s voice grew louder. 

“Right, that’ll do it,” he said when he finished, rising from the floor. 

You were still seated on the edge of the bed when he turned toward you. The air grew thick with a tension you easily recognized but refused to name. 

He cleared his throat, dropping his head as he looked down at his feet. “I’ll take the floor. I grabbed the extra blankets when I brought in our bags.”

Your brow creased as you looked from Tommy to the hard, wooden floor, and then behind you to the bed you still sat on. The palette was easily wide enough to fit the two of you. 

“That’s silly,” you found yourself saying before you could stop yourself. Tommy paused putting together his makeshift bed and his eyes snapped to yours. You forced your heart to slow and tried to appear cool. “There’s no way I’m letting you sleep on the ground when there’s plenty of room on the mattress.”

“I didn’t want to impose,” he said cautiously, not yet moving to join you on the bed but also not continuing to make the spot on the floor. 

“We’re not teenagers. I think we can control ourselves,” you chuckled, trying to convince both Tommy and yourself that this was the only reasonable option. “I can trust you, right?”

You surprised yourself with the vulnerability behind your question. Your voice must have implied the same because Tommy’s throat bobbed as he considered it. 

The truth was, you did trust him. The rational part of your brain was calling you crazy, especially after what had just happened. But there was something deep in your gut that made you irrationally feel safe in Tommy’s company. You’d been alone with this man more than you had been with him in the company of others, you realized, and this was nothing different. 

You’d just be laying in a bed. Alone. In your underwear. 

“Yes,” Tommy answered simply, though the strength in his voice held the weight of the implication. “I’d like to still sleep closest to the door, if you don't mind.”

You shook your head, scooting backwards on the mattress until you hit the back wall. 

“You sure you don’t mind?” Tommy asked as he approached the bed, throwing the blankets at the foot. “The camp may talk.”

Your brow creased. “Don’t they already think that we’re together anyway, since they only offered us the one caravan to stay in?” 

Tommy shrugged, moving to sit at the edge of the bed, leaning against the wall to face you. “Perhaps. But I could have slept in the wagon we came in, or in Johnny’s caravan.”

“I guess,” you replied, leaning back against the opposite wall. “So why didn’t you?”

He breathed out of his nose before reaching to scratch his neck. “I left you alone once tonight. I’m not plannin’ to do that again, not here at least. If you weren’t comfortable with me staying inside the van, I’d spend the entire night sitting against the door. I’d still do that, if you decide to change your mind.”

You felt your face blush slightly, instinctively moved by the protectiveness of his words. A few hours ago you may have protested against needing the bodyguard-like protection, stating that you could take care of yourself just fine. But after the crazy day you’d had — the dream, the reading, the creep — you decided to give in and let him have his way without the usual color commentary. 

Your pride would never let yourself admit it out loud, but in this moment, you welcomed the safety he was offering and tried to not read too much into it. 

“I’m sorry again for that. I shouldn’t have left you.”

You shrugged, trying to rationalize the situation. “It’s no one’s fault. He was determined to get me alone, it would have happened regardless. I’m just glad you got there before I knocked his teeth in. Or something worse.”

You both remained silent for a beat.

“I wish you hadn’t left, though. I was enjoying dancing with you.”

He scoffed, “I saw how much fun you were having with Johnny Dogs. He’s a much better dancer than I am. You were loosening up more with him.”

You shrugged. “I would have gotten there with you, if you’d stayed. You make me nervous, sometimes.”

Tommy hummed, an amused smile pulling at the corner of his lips. “You didn’t seem nervous in the wagon.”

Your eyes met his, searching to see the exact meaning behind his words. He was talking about your move to kiss him, though he hadn’t said it outright. 

“I was. You hesitated,” your voice softer than you intended, your own insecurities prevalent. 

He breathed in as his eyes flashed down to your lips and then back to meet your eyes. “I’m a cautious man, Y/N.”

“And you don’t trust me,” you swallowed, your eyes dropping down to the spot beside him as Tommy’s own words from earlier that morning rang through your head. 

You heard him breath in deeply through his nose before exhaling. At the feel of him pushing himself off the bed, your eyes moved back to him as you watched him walk to your side of the caravan before sitting back down. 

“I’ll admit, that was an oversimplification to our current situation,” he said as he lifted his hand to your face, his eyes watching your reaction. 

You hated how desperate you wanted him to say he trusted you. So much so, your brain began to scramble to find the words to tell him everything right then and there.

“Tommy,” you breathed out, your mouth ghosting against his as your body instinctively leaned forward.

“You have secrets, but no lies. I can accept that and reciprocate.”

“I don’t want secrets,” you managed to say honestly as your eyes moved between his. 

“Aye. Neither do I. But until then,” his voice died as his thumb brushed across your cheek and his pointer lifted your chin the half inch it needed to line your lips up to his. 

There was no hesitation this time. Tommy kissed you with purpose and depth as his hands raked through your hair to cradle your neck. You met his attention with gusto to match, your hands moving from his chest to his back as you pulled yourself closer. 

When he began to pull away, your arms flexed to keep him against you. You felt his mouth smirk as it hovered over yours, your forehead still pressed against his own before your lips met his again. Your kiss demanded to know why he continued to hold himself back. 

His only response was to tilt his head and open his mouth as his thumb stroked the pulse at your neck before wrapping around your waist. Without warning, he lifted you up and pulled you onto his lap, your legs instinctively wrapping around him as your hands held on to his shoulders. Your fingers found purchase in his hair as you leaned his head back to connect your lips again. 

His hands raked across the expanse of your back and up your sides, his thumb ghosting against the swell of your breasts in an aching tease. On instinct, your hips rolled forward, desperate for some kind of friction to the tightly wound tension that’d been building since the minute you’d seen each other down at the Cut. Tommy’s grip tightened as he groaned at the motion, the evidence of his own enjoyment of your body against his clear as your hips moved to repeat. 

A loud bang at the caravan door caused you both to jump, whipping your heads toward the noise as you gasped. For a moment, you were worried it was the man from earlier back for round two. A second knock followed by a voice calling for Tommy determined it was Johnny Dogs. You let out a relieved breath before it turned to annoyance — how did that man always manage to interrupt you both just when things were starting to get good. You huffed, still trying to slow your heart rate as your forehead met Tommy’s again. 

“Jesus fuckin—“ Tommy swore as he sucked in a harsh breath between his teeth at the third loud knock.

He took your face between his hands before kissing you again. A fourth knock finally had him pulling away from you as you crawled off his lap. 

“Someone’d better be dying,” he said under his breath as he ran his hand across his face and walked across the caravan toward the door. He shouted from the inside of the still closed door, “What?”

“It’s Madam Despoina,” Johnny Dogs said from the other side. “She wants a word. Now.” 

>> next chapter << chapter masterlist

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[joelmillers-whore]

Couldn't Help It

summary: getting sick was not part of the plan and letting your boyfriend frankie take care of you while you’re sick was definitely not in that plan either. 

word count: 2.4K 

series or one-shot 

warnings: no warnings for this one. just some sweet ol’ fluff for you all today. some mild swearing i guess, frankie morales x f!reader

A/N: this is my first frankie fic so please be nice lol. not that y’all wouldn’t be. this is just a very short fic to start off with, i promise i’ll write some smut for him next time. enjoy and don’t hesitate to comment, reblog, and leave a like.

tags: @hellishjoel @ilovepedro

You’d felt it the night before, the burning and the scratchiness in the back of your throat. You tried to ignore it, tried to will the start of your illness away. You had popped every godforsaken pill out there and took enough sleeping medicine to knock out a small elephant, determined to head it off at the pass. 

Nothing seemed to help you and now you were confined to your bed, fighting against a pounding headache and racking up a killer fever. You could have probably pushed through the ailments, continued on like nothing was wrong and completed your thesis as normal. 

But pushing yourself to your limit time and time again, staying up until the early hours and only nabbing a couple of hours of sleep was surely the main reason why you were sick now. It was your body's way of telling you to slow down. 

For months, you had been running on fumes, trying to get to the end of the tunnel after so many years of rigorous schooling. You’d never needed a break, or never wanted to stop and take one, and now you were being forced to. 

Although now, school seemed like a distant thought, actually, every thought seemed distant, like they were just on the outskirts of your mind, clouded in a sickness-induced fog that you couldn’t seem to wade through, no matter how hard you tried. 

Every limb felt heavy as you attempted to maneuver around your apartment, you felt weak and tired and on some level, even vulnerable. You couldn’t function normally, you couldn’t even do something as normal as drink water. This definitely wasn’t your run-of-the-mill common cold, you’d thought. This had to be the thing that wiped out the dinosaurs. 

You tossed and turned in your bed, trying to get comfortable, your body aching and your ears ringing. You had to periodically swallow, on account of the build-up of pressure in your ears, which was proving to be annoying. 

Sweat clung to every surface, feeling unbearable as you become either too hot or too cold, casting your blanket off of yourself and then pulling it back over you a minute later, your body succumbing to a full body chill. 

Your lids dropped closed, the call of sleep loud enough now that you couldn’t ignore it. Sleep seemed like a good idea, a great idea even, and you let yourself slip under with little resistance. 

You didn’t know how long you had been asleep for, it could have been minutes, it could have been days, but all you knew was that you were feeling somewhat better. You were still a far cry from being a hundred percent, but it was something. 

It was still difficult to swallow, and your throat was still scratchy and dry, but now, your head wasn’t pounding and your body temperature was starting to regulate itself. You were coasting along with your high fever, a daze settling over you as you stripped off your layers, trying to cool down. 

Still feeling groggy from sleep, you hadn’t heard the door at first, but your ears perked up when it got louder, your body jolting up in bed at the incessant pounding coming from your front door. You groaned, wondering who it could be. 

You certainly weren’t expecting anyone and you sure as hell were going to be pissed if it was your creepy neighbour again, wanting to ask you out for the millionth time. Sliding out from the warmth of your covers, you really, really didn’t want to see anyone right now, not when you probably looked like something that crawled out of a sewer. 

Hoisting yourself up from the bed on wobbly legs, you padded out of your bedroom, crossed the apartment, and pulled open your door. Your eyes nearly bugged out of your head, surprised to see who had been on the other side of your door. It was Frankie, your boyfriend. 

Frankie had been to your apartment before, but only briefly and you had thought that he had forgotten your address entirely. It wasn’t as if he was an unwelcome sight, quite the opposite actually. He stood straight, tall, and he towered over you. His unkempt curls peeked out from underneath his signature baseball cap and a weak smirk was present on his face. 

His arms were crossed but his aura was anything but unpleasant. His light green button-up was stretched tight across his chest and bulging arm muscles, pulling the material so snuggly that you thought it would rip and if you were feeling better, you would have liked to see that happen. You still wanted to, if you were honest with yourself. 

Frankie’s coffee-brown eyes were blown, a tick of worry flooding them as he looked at you— only you. Your heart hammered in your throat, an air of restlessness settling over you at the realization that Frankie was worried about you, for some reason. 

You hadn’t been dating each other long, it had only been about four months, but the way that Frankie always seemed to look at you, with adoration and a soft protectiveness, similar to how he was looking at you now, made your stomach erupt with an incomparable amount of flutters. 

You leaned your head against the frame of the door, eying Frankie as he analyzed you, and studied you like you were his favourite book. It should have unnerved you, the intensity of it, but the idea of him being so concerned with your well-being calmed you. 

“Hi”, you said, your voice coming out raspier than you were expecting. 

Frankie inched forward subtly, his hand mindlessly drifting to your hip, “Hey”, he paused. His eyes flicked down the length of you, those bushy brows creasing, “Are you okay?”. 

Your lips tipped up at the sides, pulling into a light smile. All you could do was hum your reply, suddenly overcome with tiredness again. 

“I was worried ‘bout you. Haven’t heard from you in two days”, Frankie muttered, trying to hide how worried he actually was about you. But at this point, even if your current state, you could pick up on his different cadences. 

Your eyebrows knitted together, “Has it really been two days?”. 

Time almost seemed to stand still when you were sick, the concept foreign to you when you couldn’t even think straight. 

He nods, his pupils blown and fixated on you. “What’s going on?”. 

You chewed on your lower lip, tugging at the sensitive skin harshly as you debated your next words. It was a simple enough question and it deserved a clear, simple answer. But for some reason, when you opened your mouth to speak, nothing came out. 

This was the first time that Frankie had seen you like this— had seen you as this frail and feeble version of yourself, and you didn’t like it. Because this wasn’t who you were and it wasn’t who you wanted to be thought of as. Someone who needed to be helped and someone who always needed saving, and you definitely didn’t want Frankie to see you that way. 

So instead of giving him the direct answer, you opted for, “Nothing, ‘m fine”. 

Frankie scanned your face, his face twitching imperceptibly, like he didn’t believe you at all. 

“You’re not”, he tightened his grip on your hip, “You don’t look fine”.  

You forced a chuckle from your throat, thinking that the garbled noise was close enough to pass as a laugh, “Thanks...”. 

He sighed, shuffling his cap on his head nervously, “That’s not what I meant... I just meant, you don’t look like yourself”. 

His other hand came up to cup your cheek, thumb running across your cheekbone softly, lovingly. Your eyes flitted closed at his touch, soaking in the feeling and almost moaning from how good it felt. But you held yourself back. 

It was becoming increasingly difficult to continue holding yourself up, your weakened strength waning the longer you stood. You needed to sit down, or rather lie down, but with Frankie there, you couldn’t exactly escape to your bed without admitting to him that something was wrong with you. 

Pushing yourself off of the door, you shuffled to the living room, plopping down on the couch with a small groan. Frankie wordlessly closed your door, following you deeper into your apartment. He stood above you, pulling his cap off and running a hand through his already tussled curls. 

The action was more mesmerizing than you wanted to admit, and you found yourself licking your dry lips. 

Frankie smiled down at you, his eyes gleaming in the low light of the lamp that was next to you. His deft fingers raised to your chin, tipping your head up so that your eyes met his, “You’re not feeling well, hm?”. 

You shook your head, still adamant about remaining strong, “Told you, I’m fine”. 

Frankie’s face fell, those gleaming eyes losing their shine, “Don’t lie to me. I thought we didn’t do that with each other”. 

Your gut soured at the thought. It was true, you never wanted to lie to Frankie and still keeping him at arm���s length was killing you. But it wasn’t like you did it on purpose, not consciously anyway. A string of shitty ex-boyfriends who had left their mark on you made you weary of trusting anyone you were seeing. 

But Frankie wasn’t like any of them, he wasn’t like anyone you’d ever met actually. He was kind and he was the best man you’d ever known. He didn’t force you into situations that made you uncomfortable, or manipulate you emotionally just because he could. 

And he didn’t deserve to be shut out. You rolled your shoulders back, taking a stabilizing breath. “This is humiliating”, you mumbled. 

Frankie’s lips twitched, his fingers still holding onto your chin, “Why?”. 

“Because...”, you sighed, avoiding his eyes, “I just... I’m not used to needing anyone”, you paused, trying to get out what you were thinking without stumbling over your words, “It’s just been me for a long time, and I’ve always been able to take care of myself”. 

Your eyes flitted back to Frankie’s, your face heating with embarrassment at your confession. You thought you’d see anger or hurt in his eyes, but he was still smiling down on you, only faint amusement on his face. 

“Well, get used to it because you’re not alone anymore. So, let me take care of you. Because I want to”. 

Your breath came out shaky, only now realizing that those were the exact words that you needed to hear. Emotion bubbled in your chest, constricting your throat and rendering you speechless. 

You simply nodded, while Frankie’s fingers slipped from your chin and he grabbed your hand instead, helping you to your feet and leading you back to your bedroom. Even though you had only been awake for a short while, your mind and body were already exhausted, and by the look on Frankie’s face, he knew it. 

He lifted the covers over your body, leaning over and kissing your temple, humming sweetly as he pulled back. He turned, heading out of your bedroom, when you took hold of his hand, stopping him. 

“Will you stay?”, you asked, meely. The feeling of needing someone so much scared you, but the look of pure giddiness on Frankie’s face overtook that unsure weight on your chest and replaced it with something infinitely lighter. 

He nodded, “‘Course, just wanted to get a wet cloth, might help bring down your fever”. 

Frankie’s hand drifted to your forehead, the back of it laying flatly against your skin, cooling it down significantly already. You let your eyes drift closed, nodding absentmindedly as Frankie’s hand stayed where it was for a little longer. 

“Be right back”, he whispered, leaving your side temporarily. 

You’d fallen back asleep sometime after he left, dazed sleep taking over you. Your eyes only cracked open slightly when you felt your mattress dip and a cold sensation on your forehead. You tried to mumble something, but it came out jumbled. 

Frankie smoothed back your hair, stroking your head rhythmically as he spoke, “Shhh, just rest. I’ll be right here when you wake up”. 

His presence and the feeling of his subtle touch against your clammy skin were enough to lull you back to sleep. There was something inside of you that had always yearned for this, for the closeness outside of sex. The intimacy of a relationship. Frankie wanted to be here, he wanted to take care of you, and he cared for you in a way that your past boyfriends hadn’t, that much was clear. 

Your heart clenched in its cavity when you felt Frankie lower himself onto the bed, behind you, and scooted closer so that his front was flush with your back. His arms wrapped around you, his face nestled into the crook between your neck and shoulder. 

He peppered scratchy kisses along your exposed skin, his trimmed facial hair tickling your exposed skin. 

“You didn’t have to stay”, you mumbled. Only now recognizing that you had been asleep for the whole night, the sunlight cascading in and bathing the whole room with light. 

“Couldn’t help it, I needed to make sure that you were okay”. 

You turned your body around in Frankie’s grip, letting your head fall against his shoulder, your eyes meeting his inky irises. The light bounced on one side of his face, lightening up his features and highlighting the most memorable parts of him. 

Like his slightly crooked nose that you loved to dot with kisses, his smile lines that you couldn’t help but trace with your index finger. Or his loose brown curls that you loved to run your hand through and tug on roughly when he kissed you. 

Your hand met his cheek, stroking it gently. You leaned in, planting a small kiss onto his lips. He smiled against you, deepening it and slowly devouring you. 

You pulled back, “Thank you”. 

Frankie dragged you closer to him by your waist, pulling you into his atmosphere. You felt safe and comfortable lying in his arms, embracing the quiet moment between you two. Maybe it was comfort you were feeling but maybe it was something deeper, something you had been afraid to admit until now. 

You were falling in love with Frankie Morales, you were sure of that now. And you didn’t think you’d be able to stop it, not that you really wanted to. But that was a confession for another time, right now you were falling asleep in his strong hold, content and intent to keep yourself close to him for as long as he’d let you.

[foreverdolly]

Imagine going to Victoria's Secret with Austin 🥴🥴

Your ex boyfriend had never understood why you asked for a nice lingerie set every Valentines Day. "If I'm just going to take it off you, why would I want to spend two hundred dollars on it?" Sure, lingerie wasn't a practical purchase, but it wasn't about that. It was about how confident you felt. How sexy you looked. You were a present waiting to be unwrapped, so why shouldn't you be tied up with ribbon and little pink bows?

Austin was a man of taste, hence why he was so in love with you. He thought you were the best thing since sliced bread. The two of you had been going out for just a little over a year, and in those twelve short months the man had spoiled you absolutely rotten. He went out of his way to show you how much he cared, both through words of affirmation as well as acts of service. Your panty drawer was filled to the absolute brim with expensive lace, mesh, and silk lingerie. From teddys, sheer baby doll night gowns, to a full set with garters- he bought you anything he could get his hands on. Todays trip to Victoria's Secret was one made out of necessity, which was obscenely rare for the two of you. You walked into the store, your lanky blonde trailing close behind, hands casually shoved into his pockets. "Here baby, your size is right there." He pointed, pulling you along.

See, your ex boyfriend used to hand you his card and refuse to go inside any lingerie store with you. Whether it was Victoria's Secret or an upscale boutique, he said that he felt too out of place. It "looked weird" for a guy to be in that sort of store, even if he was just with his girlfriend.

Austin had always been the complete opposite.

You picked up a few pairs of panties, feeling the fabric between your thumb and pointer finger. "Hey, what about this one?" His plush pink lips pulled back, revealing his straight white grin as he held up a pair. The thing was nothing more than a few pieces of string with pale blue flowers sewed on every here and there. "We're on a family vacation, Aus." You narrowed your eyes playfully, crumbling up a pair before tossing it in his direction. It hit his chest softly, the thin piece of fabric fluttering back down into the bin. "We have our own room with a door that locks. C'mon? I want to see your little tan lines." He bit his lip, hunching his back down slightly so that he was reaching your much shorter height. He knew it was nearly impossible to deny him when he blinked his long lashes at you like that. You were with his dad's side of the family on a beach vacation, and of course you had forgotten your underwear. Everything else you had made sure to bring, but it had completely slipped your mind in your excitement to enjoy the fresh salty air.

"Fine. . . but everything else has to be practical." He was no longer paying attention to you though, his eyes were locked on a corseted top across the store.

It was all sheer pink fabric. He hadn't been listening to you at all.

He pointed, ignoring the other patrons as they watched him. He had no shame whatsoever, turning his head to look back at you. "That. That too. Hold on. . . let me put this blue pair of panties back, and get the matching set." You groaned softly, throwing your own practical choices into the basket that Austin was eagerly swinging around. Out of the corner of your eye you saw another couple, both of them around the same age that you and Austin were. The boyfriend's eyes looked like they were bulging out of his skull, his cheeks pink with embarrassment. "Babe. . . can't I just go sit in the food court? I can get us a smoothie or something." You heard him mumbling. Austin couldn't help himself as he leaned towards you, hand up to his mouth as if he was about to tell you a secret.

"What an amateur." He whispered.

a/n: this made me chuckle while writing. he'd be soooo down to go to any lingerie boutique with you.

[themiserablechick]

Die your daughter

God…please forgive me

Inspired by @starfxkr lamb!reader and @swiftiekisses “Divine Figures.”

Uses some real Bible verses and a line from one gospel song.

Slight implication of sex in like one line

I’m not sure if cross service is something many churches do but I went to one and I felt it in my bones

I also don’t know if everyone wears black in Good Friday

Um if this sucks… pretend it doesn’t!!!

✟ ✟ ✟ ✟ ✟ ✟ ✟ ✟ ✟ ✟ ✟ ✟ ✟ ✟ ✟ ✟ ✟ ✟ ✟ ✟ ✟ ✟

You stood and stared at a picture of Jesus that lived on the walls of Tannyhill waiting for Rafe in your black sheath dress, you were mourning.

You wanted him to say something to reach out and touch you. You tilted your head up and closed your eyes waiting for a sign when you felt a hand on the small of your back you jumped out of your skin.

“Jesus, it’s just me.” Rafe half smiled

“Hey! You hit his arm. “Don’t say the lords name in vain.” He rolled his eyes but you still scolded him

“Why aren’t you wearing black”

Rafes eyebrows scrunched “why are you?”

You turned to the picture again “because Jesus died today we’re mourning,change.”

It was Good Friday- cross services. One of the most important days in your family. Today your father would go up on a stage, relay the story of Jesus and build a cross, live in front of all of figure 8. He’s done this every year for as long as you could remember. It made you feel sick this year knowing the man your father was knowing why you were even in Tannyhill, knowing why you were with Rafe in the first place.

The men you love, full of sin

Repent

Repent

Rafe came next to you now in a black dress shirt and laid a hand on the small of your back again “we’re late, let’s go”

Your father gave the service and you sat behind him in the choir, he chopped the wood of the cross at a nauseating pace.It made you flinch, made your mind wander to unholy acts you had committed with Rafe.

Repent.

Admittedly you had zoned out for half the service but what you did pick up on was your father talking about the sacrificial lamb you only truly payed attention because he looked in your eyes.

“God himself will provide the lamb for the burnt sacrifice, my son.”

His voice booming to the more than a hundred people in the audience but he only spoke to you.He compared the lamb’s sacrifice to Jesus’ how he was crucified for our sin , so we could be pure.

He wasn’t talking to you, no it was far beyond that. He was talking about you. You were the sacrificial lamb, you were Christ. Sacrificed to the Cameron’s to pay for your families sins.

“A gift from God” your father would call you.He often compared you the story of Abraham. A miracle baby delivered from God,but you were not Abraham, you were the sacrifice. You would die on the mountain top.

You looked to Rafe in the crowd, uninterested like he always seemed in church. He didn’t understand like you, how important this all was how could he, you knew Jesus more intimately than most he consumed your waking thoughts.

Repent

Repent

Sometimes you swore you heard God.

“In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God. All things were made through Him, and without Him nothing was made that was made.” Your head snapped up as you heard your father repeat the verse. You wondered what your own father could possibly know about God, how he could fathom “the word”

Once your father finished his service the cross was built and erected before you as you were called to sing about “the never ending overwhelming reckless love of God”

As you sang with the cross in front of you and you understood now, although you weren’t hanging from the cross this was your crucification, this was the end of your life as the preachers daughter you would become something new. You wore black on Good Friday because you were mourning but on Sunday, you will wear white and be born new.

[sunflowersteves]

he'd never tell anyone but you but eddie cries in his van in the mornings before school after the two of you break up

author's note || this!!! request!!!! has me crying but also i love you for it, anon. i do.

warnings || breakups, crying, sad!eddie, upsidedown, unhappy ending (but potential part two happy ending??)

masterlist

Five months. 

One-hundred fifty-two days.

Three-thousand six-hundred forty-eight hours.

Eddie wasn't sure, most of the time, what day it was. He never knew if the moon was puncturing the night sky with its dewy gloom or if the sun shined bright beneath the ashen clouds. He never knew what class he was in, whether it was science, english, or history.

But he knew how many months, days, and hours that you were no longer by his side.

Well, let's rephrase that. He knew how many months, days, and hours since he broke your heart into a thousand different pieces.

His too, though. As he watched your tear-stained face crumble, your hands shake, and your voice crack. His heart, too, broke into a thousand different pieces. He didn’t know why he did what he did—why he pushed you away. 

But it seemed so easy—so effortless—in the way of trying to make sure that you’re safe. After Chrissy’s death, Max’s almost death, and the events of the Upside Down, he knew life was going to be hell. He knew that with all of those chains of events, it would only be the beginning. 

So, in a way, he did know why he pushed you away. It pained him every second of every ticking minute that he did what he did.

And yet, now that the long, hellish months of his trials were over, everything was starting to be placed back to where they’re supposed to be—everything except you.

Today was May 12th, 1986. His year. His month. His last and final week at Hawkin’s High. It was really supposed to be like any other week like the rest of them.

He would get up. He’d smell like booze and weed. He would shower said booze and weed off of him. He’d get dressed. He would stare at the moldy blueberry muffin you had baked for him one long lost Sunday morning. He would drive to school. He’d go to class. He’d drive home. He would drink and get high. And at the end, he went to bed.

The never-ending cycle was bound to continuously spin in circles for what felt like an eternity. The same day over and over, again and again. The same routine started all over again on May 12th, 1986. 

He got up. He showered all the booze and weed off. He stared at the sad blueberry muffin. He drove to school. But as he parked his van in the school parking lot, he immediately regretted looking up in front of him. 

There you were. You. The person he’d been dreaming of stumbling across for the past five months.

You were dropping off Mike and Lucas, waving goodbye to them as they opened the car door. His eyes watched as your lips curled into a smile, the wounds that deepened his heart only cut further. The little crinkle next to your eyes as you smiled, and your pearly whites on full display. His heart sunk as you looked happy.

Eddie couldn’t help but freeze as you screamed Mike’s name. Even the sound of your voice—something he hadn’t heard in months—sent chills down his spine. Mike ran back to your car, giving you a quick thanks at you for giving him the book he forgot. 

Eddie sniffled. It was the first time he realized that tears had fallen against his cheeks. He looked down to see small wet patches on his jeans. He put a hand over his mouth, slowly sliding down his jaw as a sob racked through his body. 

He didn’t expect to see you today or any day for that matter. He wasn’t ready to see your perfect lips. He wasn’t ready to see the way your eyes shone beneath the sun. He wasn’t ready to see you in the parking lot at Hawkins High. 

He wasn’t ready.

He couldn’t help but let out a small, frustrated scream, trying to yell into the dark void that seemed to only let him sink further. But then he saw you walking toward him. Fuck, you were really walking towards him. 

His eyes widened, heart rate increasing with each step you took. He tried his hardest to wipe the tears from his eyes, but he knew everything would still be visible—the redness, the dried tears, the stuffy nose.

He watched, swallowing thickly, as you tapped the van window. He bent down, cranking down the window. “Hey.”

He almost choked at the sound of your voice, his heart pounding loud in his ears. “Um, hey.” 

He couldn’t look into your eyes, and all he could do was stare at your wrist. He knew he was avoiding the inevitable as much as possible. 

“How are you?” If Eddie wasn’t so focused on suppressing his current emotions, then he would’ve caught the strain in your voice. 

He swallowed, “I’m—uh—good. How a-are you?” He cringed on the inside, knowing that he sounded like such bullshit. However, you either didn’t notice or didn’t seem to comment on it.

“I’m—um—doing good. Jus’ had to drop the kids off today, ya know?” 

He nodded, trying his best to form a small smile. He could tell that it was probably the most unconvincing smile he could ever muster. And then he saw the look on your face. He could see the small sliver of hope that rested between your irises. He could see the way your feet shuffled, and your hands fiddled with the end of your shirt in nervousness. 

But then everything comes crashing down into the pits of reality. He broke your heart. He didn’t want you anymore. He didn’t love you anymore. 

All he could do was watch as the scene unfolded before him. He watched as you started to close yourself in—the walls that he had managed to crumble down at one point in time were building their way back up. One brick at a time. 

“I’ll see you around, okay?”

Eddie didn’t respond as he watched you walk away. He just stares intensely at your back. 

“Fuck!” He yelled, smashing his hands on the steering wheel. He felt himself slipping—stumbling into the everlasting darkness of a life without you. 

Today marks four months and a day of Eddie’s worst demise. One-hundred fifty-three days without your smile. Three-thousand six-hundred seventy-two hours without you. 

[midsummernightwrites]

moments while you’re away

pairing: bradley ‘rooster’ bradshaw x female reader

word count: 2.3k

summary: You always missed Bradley when he was deployed so you start writing him notes while he’s away. You don’t send them, but they make you feel like he’s still around when he’s hundreds of miles away. // small moments where Y/N (and eventually their son Nick too) writes letters to Bradley about what he’s missing while he’s away

warnings: none that i can think of, it’s mostly fluff with some small moments of angst. 

It was never easy when Bradley was away on deployment.

From early on, you struggled when he was gone. You missed him beside you as you slept. You longed for his laughter to fill the room as you made breakfast in the home you made together. No reassurances could quell the lingering anxiety that filled your stomach anytime you imagined what he was doing miles away.

You never wanted to add to his worry so you tried to cope with him being away as best you could. You tried tennis and pilates and other physical activities to try and distract your heart. You invested in knitting needles and a new yoga mat with a matching workout set but none of it helped when you returned to your empty house.

Nothing seemed to work until you started writing notes one late September night.

Bradley had been gone for a week and wasn’t due home for at least two more. You were distracted with the start of the new school year but had so much you wanted to tell him about your new classroom of third graders. There were always so many stories you wanted to share with him, but the phone calls were never long enough and you occupied yourself with other activities as soon as he returned.

So, you decided to write them down and put them somewhere safe so that you could share them once he was home.

Hi Roos,

You helped me earn some cool teacher cred with my students today…

“Ms. Y/L/N, look! I made a plane!” one student excitedly shared as you walked around during their free play time.

“Wow, that’s amazing my friend!” you replied, pausing at their desk. “Did you know my friends are pilots?”

“Really?”

“Yup! They fly jets for the Navy,” you shared, “They go super fast and travel all over the world to help protect us.”

“You know real life pilots? Are you lying Ms. Y/L/N?” another student chimed in.

“I’m telling the truth, I promise,” you laughed, “Remind me to show you all some pictures during our share time tomorrow.”

“Can we meet them? I wanna see a real life pilot!”

“Can we go on the planes?”

After the first note, it became routine to write these small letters to Bradley. You kept them in a box underneath your bed and over the years, as your relationship grew, the box became full of scribbled messages and short letters.

Bradley,

You haven’t called or texted me in four days and I’m so scared. I’m trying to believe that you’re just busy or can’t be on your phone for some stupid classified reason but I’m so terrified that something bad happened. I really hate your job right now and I really need you to tell me that you’re okay.

You checked your phone every five seconds. You tried to distract yourself with the latest episode of the Bachelor but even trashy reality tv couldn’t take your mind off the intense fear you felt as you still didn’t hear from him.

Was he already dead? Had he already left you? You couldn’t stop the what if scenarios as they swirled around and around in your head. You had to hide in the staff restroom during lunch when you couldn’t hold your tears in any longer. He had never gone this long without contacting you, not without warning or an explanation before.

“It’ll be fine, he’s fine,” you repeated to yourself as you held back tears. You couldn’t stop fidgeting with the necklace he had gifted you for your one year anniversary and you were running on limited sleep since your dreams had quickly turned to nightmares about all the potential ways Bradley was hurt.

You heard a car pull up and your heart started racing. Was this that moment? The moment when you heard a knock at the door and opened it to find two strangers in a uniform who’d deliver the worst news of your life.

God he couldn’t be gone, not yet.

Instead of a knock, you heard the front door unlock. You jumped up as it opened, and nearly burst into tears at the sight of Rooster walking through the door.

“You’re home,” you muttered, your body moving on auto pilot as you jumped into his arms. He was okay, he was here, he was home.

“I missed you so much baby,” Bradley held you tight, pressing soft kisses on your head as you buried your face in his neck. As much as you never wanted to leave the comfort of his hold, you couldn’t stop the lingering anxiety in your stomach.

“What happened?” You demanded as you pulled back. “You didn’t answer any of my texts or even tell me you were coming home. I thought, I mean, god Bradley, I was so worried.”

Your voice shook slightly as a few more tears escaped. The guilt on his face was blurry, but still there as he set you down next to him on the couch.

“I’m so sorry sweetheart, so fucking sorry,” He wiped your tears away, placing soft kisses on your lips between his apologies. “There were some issues with our mission and I broke my phone and service was bad the whole way back to base and I should have found a way to let you know I was okay but I just wanted to get home to you and hold you in my arms. I won’t ever go that long without letting you know first, I promise.”

“It’s okay, I’m just glad you’re home,” you cut off his rambling with a kiss. “I’m just happy you're here with me again.”

Dear Bradley,

I miss you whenever you leave, but it’s especially hard now that I’m reminded of you anytime I look at the ring on my finger. Penny tried to distract me today but it didn’t work too well…

“Y/N, are you still there?” Penny’s voice pulled you away from the tiny details on your engagement ring.

“Hmm?’ You looked up across the bar at her. “Sorry, I zoned out a bit there.”

“I could tell,” Penny replied. It was a quiet night at the Hard Deck so you stopped by to keep Penny company. It helped that she was typically able to distract you and you frequented the bar more when he was gone. “Have you two talked about what you want to do?”

“Not much yet.” You twisted the ring around on your finger. “I want it to be outside, I think. I’m going to start looking for my dress once Natasha is back stateside. But, we don’t have many details yet. I want Bradley to be here to help.”

“He’ll be happy as long as you're happy.”

“I know, but I want it to be perfect, for the both of us.”

Dear Roos/Dad,

Well, aren’t you lucky? Now you get letters from your two favorite people on the planet. Nick has really been missing you lately so I decided to share this secret with him. He’s so excited to write to you.

“It’s not fair,” Nick muttered, his arms crossed as he refused to look at you. He instead kept his gaze locked on the porch step below him. You sat a couple inches away, wanting to be there for him while also giving him some space to work through how he felt.

“It’s not fair, you’re right.” Nick was getting older and as he did, his understanding of his father’s job grew as well. He was no longer content with the short answers about how dad was protecting others in his plane and would be home before he knew it.

Today, he had returned from school with a scowl on his face. You didn’t have to wait long for him to share the reason behind his anger. One of his friends at school had brought up how a relative of theirs had died while deployed and had gone into too much detail for a second grader. Nick was not happy to learn how much danger his father was really in when he was away. He yelled, and screamed and demanded that his daddy come home. He stomped away to the backyard when you answered that it wasn’t that simple.

He was angry, he was scared and it broke your heart.

“I don’t want him to go away anymore,” Nick mumbled a few moments later. “What if he doesn’t come back?”

“Come here honey,” You opened your arms and Nick fell right into them, a few tears escaping. “I know it’s scary, I still get scared every time dad goes away. I promise you, he will always try to come home to us. He loves you so much.”

“But what if something bad happens?”

“I’m not going to lie honey, there is a chance something bad could happen. Your dad is doing everything he can to be safe. Plus, he has your Uncle Jake and Aunt Natasha and Uncle Bob and so many other people looking out for him. They’ll help keep him safe.” You ran your hand through his hair as you tried to comfort your son.

“I miss him.” You tightened your arms around your boy.

“I do too.” You gave your son a few moments to get his tears out before sharing your next idea. “Can we make a deal?”

After a few seconds, you felt your son nod.

“When your dad comes home, you can ask him any questions you want about his job, okay? Maybe we can even go see some of the planes again. Will that help you feel better?”

“Can Grandpa Pete come see the planes with us too?”

“I’m sure he would love to,” You smiled as your son looked up at you, his tears almost gone. “Do you want to know what I like to do when I miss your dad?”

“What?”

“It’s a secret, one that not even dad knows.” Nick’s face lit up at the thought of knowing a secret not even his own father knew. “Can you handle that?”

“Yes, I can! I promise!”

“When your dad is away, I like to write him notes. I write down different stories and things I want to tell him and it makes me feel better.”

“Can I write dad a note?” Nick asked.

“Of course you can, why don’t we go write some together?” You held out your hand and led Nick back inside.

“Can I draw him a picture too?”

“I’m sure he would love that.”

While you always intended to share the notes with Bradley once he returned, it slipped your mind once he was home again. You’d get distracted and over time, you found you liked keeping the letters for yourself (and Nick). It was a way for you to keep him close to you while he was away. It was your little secret.

It wasn’t until one spring day that your secret came out. The two of you were deep cleaning the house while Nick played with the newest model plane Maverick had gifted him. You hadn’t even thought of your box of notes until Bradley pulled it out from its hiding spot.

“What’s this?” Bradley asked, setting the box on the bed. You turned from your spot in the closet to see him opening the box.

“Oh, it’s nothing. It’s kind of silly, honestly.” You blushed a bit as he pulled out one of the many notes in the box.

“Are these notes written to me?” Bradley asked as you made your way over to him.

“Yeah, they are. I started writing them when I missed you while you were away and it helped so I just kept writing them.” You sat next to him on the bed, leaning against him as he brushed his hand through the hundreds of notes in the box. “Nick’s written a couple too.”

“He has?” Bradley’s face lit up at that. “Can I read them? Is that okay?”

“Yeah, if you want to. I mean, I originally planned on giving them to you, but you always distracted me with other activities once you got home. I know it’s silly, but it always helped when I missed you.”

“It’s not silly,” Bradley turned towards you, taking your hand in his. “I talk to you when I’m away, well, to your picture I guess.”

“You do?” Your mouth fell open a little bit at his confession. You knew he missed you while he was gone. He talked to you as much as he was allowed and kept at least two pictures of you and Nick in his flight suit pocket. You don’t know why, but you hadn’t expected him to confess to having a routine like your note writing.

“Yeah, sometimes when I miss you and I can’t sleep, I look at a picture of you and just tell you about my day. It helps me too.” He rubbed his thumb up and down your hand as he shared and you couldn’t help but place a soft kiss on his lips.

“I’m glad we’re both extremely obsessed with each other.” You smiled as Bradley turned back towards the box.

“How many are in here?” Bradley laughed, pulling another note that you had written back when you were only dating.

“I don’t know, a lot.” You laughed with him, not even hearing your son’s footsteps until his gasp was heard from the doorway.

“Mom, you told dad our secret!”

“I didn’t tell him, honey, he found the box.” Nick ran over to the bed, gently placing his new toy down when Bradley picked him up.

“I can’t believe you kept a secret from me, little man!” Nick laughed as Bradley swung him around in his arms before placing him in his lap. “Can I see some of the drawings you put in here? Will you show me?”

“Yeah!”

While you were happy you could always write him a note or letter when he was gone, nothing was better than the memories you made together when he was home safe and sound.

[alwaysteveswife]

Fate Or Chance | Steve Harrington x Fem! Reader.

Summary: Read the summary here, it's much more complete, but, in a nutshell, it's about Steve and you meeting for the first time in a movie theater on Valentine's Day 💕.

Warnings: Fluff, Model! Steve, Designer! Reader.

Words: 1.9k

You brought your hands to your lips, sighing over them to warm them. People walked briskly by your sides, some even bumping into your shoulder, apologizing in hushed tones. Signs with red and pink hearts filled every place, from food businesses to clothing and lingerie stores.

And in the midst of that was you, with your downcast countenance, watching some men enter the stores with a smile of excitement, and women, with flushed cheeks as they left a clothing or chocolate store. You couldn't lie, you felt a little envious, but what could you do besides watching those people being happy with their partners?

Your cell phone rang, making you come out of your little cloud of depression and singleness. The number was Alex's, your best friend. You answered almost the second after she dialed.

"Did you get to the movies yet?" Alex said on the other end of the phone.

"I'm close" you smiled, stopping your step as you saw the large Cinemark sign. You were happy to at least be able to enjoy a horror movie with your best friend, "Why do you ask? are you going to be late?"

Alex sighed heavily, something that made your stomach clench and your nerves make you nauseous. You knew that sigh so well.

"No, not exactly," a noise in the background along with a man's laughter only confirmed your suspicions, "Eddie came as a surprise, you know, for Valentine's Day."

"Oh" you said quietly, your smile fading almost as quickly as it had appeared. Alex and Eddie had been dating for about 10 years, lived through a lot together and always leaned on each other. You admired them, too much. Neither had much time for the other, Alex was a surgeon and Eddie had a band that became incredibly famous in the late 80s.

You didn't want to spend Valentine's Day alone, but you also didn't plan to put your happiness above your best friend's, so, taking a big breath of fresh air, you responded.

"I'm glad he was able to come see you today" you tried to sound as cheerful as possible, because you were actually very happy for them. "You should stay with him, you haven't seen each other for a long time."

Alex blew out the air she had built up. You couldn't help but smile at that, she really was a great friend.

"Thanks for understanding, Y/N, I promise I'll make it up to you."

"There's nothing to make up for, I love seeing you happy, you're like, I don't know, my favorite couple in the world" you let out a laugh as you heard Eddie shout that you were his second favorite girl in the world, "I gotta go, the show starts in a few minutes."

"Enjoy the movie for me, okay?"

"I will, don't worry" you kept up your pace, walking into the movie theater a little more down than before, but not taking the smile off your face, "Bye."

Steve turned off the alarm clock beside him, a heavy sigh escaping his lips. He glued his gaze to the spotless ceiling of the hotel room he was staying in for the weekend.

"You awake already?" muttered Eddie, standing in front of a full-length mirror, his hands working deftly through his hair. He was seeing Alex again today after an entire season out of the country.

"Yeah, I see you too" he sat up in bed, his eyelashes fluttering over his cheeks a little too slowly. Eddie couldn't help but smile mischievously at the sight of him.

"What? you have no one to spend this wonderful day with?" as he teased Steve, he picked up his perfume and poured it on too much. Steve wasn't happy about it, that one in particular was too expensive for him to wear like that.

"Shut the fuck up" he stood up at last, stretching his arms above his head. He hid his feet in his soft cotton slippers, walking lazily to the dining room.

Hundreds of papers were lying on the kitchen counter, all with Steve as the addressee. After his last job, many well-known fashion brands wanted him for their advertising.

He ignored them all, too tired to pay attention to them. He kept walking until he reached the spacious kitchen. His stomach growled in protest.

"I left a slice of pizza from last night lying around" Eddie shouted as he ran for the front door, "I'm going to Alex's house, don't wait for me, I don't think I'll make it."

"Just beat it" he said jokingly, pulling out a bottle of milk and taking a big gulp of it. He had to take care of his physique, much to his bad luck.

The door slammed shut, leaving Steve all alone in an overly large hotel room by one person. For some reason, he felt extremely lonely.

He stood for a few seconds staring at the door, thinking about how different his morning would have been if he had someone special in his life, as well as Eddie and Alex. It hurt him to think like that, it hurt him to think that he might end up alone and with no one to love him, unable to achieve his biggest dream, to have a beautiful family to give his body and soul to.

He tried to erase those intrusive thoughts, put away the bottle of milk and headed for the bedroom. He stopped dead in his tracks when he felt a sheet of paper hit his face.

"What the...?" He brushed it off with a frown, turning to look at the sliding door to the balcony. Eddie had left it open. "Stupid wind."

He looked at the paper, noting that it was a job offer at a freelance firm. Confused, he looked through the rest of the letters, noticing that, in one of the envelopes, came a set of photos with the work they had been doing so far.

The photography was fine, the models were exotic and diverse, something that caught his attention, but, without a doubt, what completely captivated him were the designs the models were wearing. They were very visually appealing.

In less than a second he was already dressed and with his wallet in hand, ready to go somewhere with a computer available so he could do some research about the place.

He wandered around town until he found a library with computers in it. He hurried to grab one and took a seat, typing in as fast as he could the name of the company.

His research led him to a website with a nicely perfected design, the designs available were similar to the samples, but much more eye-catching. He smiled unconsciously.

When he reached the footer, a phone number accompanied by a name caught his eye. It was the name of the manager and Lead Designer, Y/N Y/L/N. He pulled the crumpled letter out of his pocket, the reverse side facing the ceiling. He took a pencil from the pen next to the computer and quickly wrote down the data. For the first time in a long time he was really excited about getting a job.

With a big smile on his face, Steve walked gleefully towards the local subway station hoping he could go visit Eddie and Alex and tell them the news. He skipped down the stairs two at a time, ignoring the leering looks some girls were throwing at him; he couldn't think of anything else but your name, after all, so far you were the Designer that best complemented his personal tastes.

He took a seat on one of the subway chairs next to a man in a suit. He looked furious. Steve almost fell out of his seat when he saw the man give him a withering look.

"Hey," he mumbled, getting up and standing in front of Steve. "You like horror movies?"

Steve blinked slowly, his lips parting slightly. What did he say?

"Ah, yeah, I guess, why the question?" He mumbled in confusion, his brow furrowing slightly as he watched the man toss his a white-colored ticket.

"Here, I'll give it to you, I don't need it anymore anyway."

Steve tried to talk to him, to ask why he was giving that to him, but as soon as he got up, the man was gone on the train that had just arrived, leaving him with confusion and a ticket to a movie he didn't even know was in release.

"Thank you" you said as you took the box of popcorn from the worker's hands and headed to the room where the show would be screened. Definitely ignorant of the red hearts that decorated it.

You handed over your ticket and nodded when you heard the instructions. Room 4, booth K12. You considered it decent, not too close, not too far. You went on your way and entered the room. Empty.

You sighed, walking down the steps and ignoring the fact that this was too ridiculous, what was so unbelievable about watching a horror movie in company? If you had a partner, you thought, you would definitely watch this with him on Valentine's Day, mainly because they were on sale.

You walked until you saw the letter K on the seat, looking carefully for the number you were entitled to. Just then, you heard heavy footsteps and a man's panting. You decided to ignore it and take a seat.

"Dude, it sure is empty in here" you heard the man say. His footsteps could be heard closer and closer.

For a single second you thought he had an attractive voice, but preferable to keep that thought to yourself, you weren't the kind of person to flatter random people who came to watch the same movie as you.

The sound of the chair next to you made you freeze in place. You turned your head so fast that your neck became sore. Your eyes widened when you saw who it was.

Steve fucking Harrington was sitting next to you in a completely empty movie theater. You felt your heart race at the thought of sharing the same air as the one you admired so much.

"Hi" he smiled awkwardly as he noticed your relentless gaze stopping on him, "what a coincidence that we happened to be together, don't you think?".

You opened your mouth. Nothing. You tried again, but could only let out a soft "yes". You were red with embarrassment, why did this have to happen to you just today?

"Uhm, well, I was just saying that because I didn't want you to think I'm a weirdo or something for sitting here when the cinema is empty, but, you know, it's forbidden to occupy any seat other than yours" from then on you stopped paying attention to what he was saying, you were too busy thinking about how good he looked and how funny it was to hear him talking so fast.

Before you could help yourself, you let out a laugh. Too loud a laugh. You covered your mouth almost instantly, opening your eyes too wide to look normal.

You both looked at each other in silence; you, trying to read Steve's expression, and he, processing what you had just done. In the end, it was Steve who broke the silence. A set of strange laughs made you feel self-conscious, was he making fun of you?

"What was that?" he said between laughs, his eyes forming little crescent moons that sparkled with intensity, "I've never heard someone laugh like that."

"God, how embarrassing" you whispered, covering your face with both hands, feeling the heat rise to your ears.

"Seriously, what do I have to do to hear it again?"

Your heart stopped for a second. You opened a space between your fingers to watch Steve's face. You swore his smile could have killed you. He was smiling so genuinely that, for a second, you forgot that you had let out a laugh so loud and embarrassing that, if there had been more people there, they would be trying to throw you out.

"I..." you gulped, drawing out all your personality for the next move. After all, it was highly unlikely you were going to find it again, "well, you'd have to do something too crazy, maybe shave your head?"

Steve laughed again, this time you joined him. You don't know how long you were like that, the stomach ache and tears were already too present, so you guessed a good while, but you didn't care.

"I'm Steve, by the way" he smiled with a chuckle, wiping the tears from his eyes.

"Y/N" you nodded in his direction, lowering your voice a little at a time as you noticed the screen begin to brighten and the lights dimmed. You turned to look at the screen with a big smile.

You were so caught up in your world that you didn't notice how, even though the show was about to start, Steve didn't take his eyes off you for quite a while, his eyes shining with excitement and his chest quivering with warmth.

Masterlist

[shownusgfayoooo]

perfection

Pairing: Seonghwa x  Y/N

Tropes: hurt/comfort, wedding dress shopping, fiance sh!

T/W: body image issues, anxiety, crying, panic, stress

Words: 2.2k

my masterlist

You couldn’t understand it. Your dreams were coming true. You had never been happier in your life. You had graduated from school after years of self-doubt and long nights of hard work. You were finally secure in all your friendships and had the time to enjoy them. And the best part of it all, you had found the love of your life. Seonghwa was not only everything you had wished for, but he was also so much more. He filled all the spaces in your heart that you didn’t even know yearned for him. He was someone you could not imagine life without, and wedding planning had been a blast so far.

So, as you tried on your fourteenth wedding dress, the part of wedding planning that you had been looking forward to most, if not your whole life, why were you crying?

The boutique owner herself had come to help zip you up into this gown as she had been noticing your mounting frustration all morning. As you turned around to hopefully see what you had been envisioning, some perfect version of yourself, your heart broke when you looked… the same. The same as you always did. You had hoped trying wedding gowns on would somehow erase years of hatred towards your body and make you see yourself as beautiful. Instead, your eyes flitted maniacally around your figure, noting all the imperfections and the unique ways in which all the dresses emphasized them.

The frustration finally hit its peak. You immediately burst into tears. If you couldn’t be beautiful on the one day you were supposed to be, and trying on a hundred dresses couldn’t achieve the look so far, then there must not be any dress that could make you beautiful. How could you marry Seonghwa? He deserved perfection. You deserved perfection. Everything felt wrong.

The two stylists shared a panicked glance but before they could figure out what to do, Wooyoung flipped the curtain aside and ran in. San and Yunho had to grapple with it, as they were the next to rush in after hearing your sobs. You weren’t sure, but in the kerfuffle, it sounded like Mingi accidentally elbowed Jongho. Yeosang and Hongjoong were the last to come in, though their eyes still held the same panic and worry.

You turned to them and started crying harder. Wooyoung wrapped his arms around you and started patting your head. You just gave in to the feeling. The boys had been so reassuring the whole appointment.

At first, you had thought they wouldn’t be interested in accompanying you. When you asked Hongjoong if he could impart some fashion advice, he had excitedly taken over the whole wedding dress aspect of the planning. He had tirelessly researched dress styles, colors, and fabrics, and had been presenting you with options for weeks. He was the one to book the appointment for today as well. But when Wooyoung heard that his hyung would be part of this “touching and girlhood experience” as he liked to put it, he had invited himself. Yunho would have to drive, so he was the next natural addition, before Yeosang had quietly asked you after dinner one night if he could join also. San and Mingi had a fight about who could take the last spot in the car, since naturally cars should only be driven at full capacity, never mind the leg room. When that fight had ended in tears, Jongho had come up with the solution to borrow a KQ vehicle that could seat everyone and not leave any member of Ateez behind, save the one who perhaps had the most to do with the whole reason for the excursion. That fact that he sneakily added himself to the group when he had firmly put himself on the decor aspect of planning after lamenting for weeks that he wanted nothing to do with clothes didn’t fool anyone.

As you reflected on all the combined enthusiasm from the people who loved you most in the world, you felt yourself becoming even more inconsolable. If there was no perfect dress for you, then why bother with any of it?

Mingi led you gently by hand to the couch outside dressing room in the lobby of the boutique. San sat you down and leaned on your shoulder, while Yeosang put his arms around you and his head on top of yours. Yunho rushed to find water, and Jongho sat himself down by your feet and started to pat your knee. They all tried to comfort you, but your blabbering only made things worse.

“Noona, don’t cry...” Yeosang’s voice was small.

“Come on, keep your chin up,” Yunho said, as he forced a straw towards you.

“Hey, it’s okay. We’ll find the dress! This store sucks anyways.” San got a glare from both Hongjoong and the storekeeper at that.

“Yea, you look so pretty in everything. It’s not going to be harder to find a dress than it already has been!” Sweet Mingi.

“If you cry, I’m gonna start crying. And we really don’t want that to happen.”

“Ya, shut up Wooyoung.” Jongho was inching towards his hyung with his fist clenched.

“I’m serious! I can’t stand Y/N crying as it is.”

“Can you fucking keep it together! It’s not about you, idiot.” Hongjoong looked menacing as he hissed under his breath.

“I swear I will start crying.”

You laughed through your sobs. Finding the humor in their collective attempt at making you feel better, you could finally draw a breath. And with it, you told them all your thoughts. How you wanted everything to be perfect for the wedding. Because your life was perfect now. But this dress was not perfect. And that threw into bright light how you were not perfect. And how you were failing to see any reason to continue with any of it- if you couldn’t be perfect.

They all stared at you with varying looks, ranging from discomfort to abject horror. Had you said too much? As you started to overthink, you missed Hongjoong whispering to Yunho, “Call him. He needs to be here. Right. Now.”

In the meantime, you had pulled yourself out of your spiral. You had said too much. Now you needed to backtrack and be normal again. And to do that and to truly convince the others, you had to keep going with the appointment, but not let it get to you this time. Fake it till you make it was a saying for a reason.

The stylist gave you a skeptical look as you suddenly brushed your tears away, started smiling, and asked for the next gown. You brushed away the boys’ who still wanted to feed you, or talk to you, or cry with you, gathered up your skirts and marched back into the dressing room.

You were just gritting yourself to bear the disappointment of the new dress you were being laced into when you heard the bell above the shop entrance ring.

Since Hongjoong had booked out the entire store for your appointment, you were a little curious and were thus paying attention when the boys started whispering “hyung.”

Panic settled in your chest. If Seonghwa was here... He couldn’t-

“Y/N, I’m here.” There were footsteps approaching your room.

He couldn’t be, and he was. You felt all your resolve crumble.

“Hey, get out of here! This is bad luck. You can’t see me.” Your voice was shaky as you called out to him.

“Y/N, please. Please let me in.”

“No, you can’t be here.” Your sentence ended in a sob. You couldn’t help it.

There was a rustling of the curtain. Your eyes flew up to the mirror to watch him walk in, backwards?

He reached back with his hands blindly. “Y/N, see? I’m walking in backwards. I can’t see you. Now, can you please come over here, and let me talk to you?”

You walked towards him, too, and turned so that you would be back-to-back. Every step closer to him released the tension that was holding you prisoner. When you touched, you breathed a deep sigh of relief. You felt him do the same.

“The guys called me.” His voice was a whisper. “They told me you were the most upset they had ever seen you. And what you said. I ran over here as fast as I could.”

“I’m sorry.” You could barely get the words out.

His hands grabbed yours. “Stop. Don’t apologize.”

“I just- I just, I feel-“

“I know. Hongjoong told me word for word what you said. And I want to tell you, that it’s all bullshit.”

You laughed a little at how scary his voice sounded. He squeezed your hands tighter at the sound.

“I’m not saying how you’re feeling is bullshit. I validate your feelings. I know how hard it is to look at yourself in the mirror sometimes. I know how hard it is to want to look different. I get it; you know I do.” You nodded against his back. There had been many times where you both had picked each other up during hard times. You could never forget any of it.

“But, the rest of it? About being perfect? That is bullshit. Y/N, there is no such thing as perfect in this world, ok? Nothing. But you, you are perfect to me. You are everything to me. The person that you are- that’s someone I’ve waited for and wished for a long time. And you are beautiful. Endlessly. In anything you wear, however you look. I know you are beautiful in all these gowns without even seeing you in them. You just need to find one that you like. It doesn’t have to look any certain way or make you look any certain way, ok?”

You nodded softly.

“All the added pressure of perfection and the frustration of trying dress after dress, when I know you hate shopping and trying on clothes just made it all a lot worse today, right?”

You were pleasantly surprised at how succinctly he summed up your feelings that even you couldn’t name.

“Wow, yea..”

“So, let’s try again another day. Put an end to this gross experience for now, and for next time, we can come in a bit more prepared emotionally to find the perfect dress. Because it exists. And when you’re in a better headspace, you will see that too. And feel beautiful and see yourself the way the whole world sees you.” His voice dipped into a whisper. “The way I see you.”

The last bit of something released in your chest, and in its place, there was light. “Are your eyes closed?”

He fumbled his words a bit as he responded. You got the feeling that you had interrupted his spiel a little. “Um, ah- no. I…”

“Close them, please.”

“Y/N, what-?”

“Are they closed?”

He had barely finished saying the word yes when you turned and walked around to face him to throw your arms around him.

His breath came out in a little “oof” with how fiercely you threw yourself into his arms, but he was quick to wrap them around you just as tightly.

His cheek came down to the top of your head as he just held you.

“I love you, Hwa.”

“I love you, too.”

“I’m sorry I freaked out.”

“It’s understandable. And there’s no reason for apologizing.”

“Thanks for coming all the way and helping me through it.”

“Anything for you, my love.”

You took one last deep breath and smiled.

“You better not be peeking.”

“Ok, Ms. I-will-call-this-wedding-off-if-I-can’t-find-a-dress.”

“Hey!” You pulled back to see his lips twitching with a smirk. It matched your own.

“Sorry, baby. Too soon?”

“YEAH, IT’S FUCKING TOO SOON, HYUNG. ARE YOU CRAZY?” It almost took you a second to place the inhumane screech as Wooyoung’s. Surprised, you both turned to the curtain separating you from the rest of the world.

The sheer shock of it all had Seonghwa’s opening his eyes inadvertently. He was turning back to you when you quickly threw your hands over his eyes.

“NO PEEKING!”

He laughed deeply, then tilted his head back to place a kiss on your palm.       

“Be good now. I gotta go take care of the little one- it’s his turn.”

You laughed softly to yourself and watched the curtain flap down as he walked out. Another deep breath. Before, you could leave and end this horrid appointment, you snuck one more glance at the mirror. And what you saw, was what you had known was there this whole time. Beauty.

It was in your gown. It was in the way the curves and lines of your body pushed at the fabric. It was in the way the it clung to you in some places and draped down you in others. It was in the way your eyes lit up now when you looked at yourself. More importantly, it was in the way Wooyoung was crying outside at having seen you cry. It was in the way that San and Yeosang held you when you were upset. It was in the way that Jongho gave you skinship for comfort when he hated it. It was in the way Yunho found something to nourish you. It was in the way Mingi was quick to reassure you. It was in Hongjoong calling your fiancé. But, mostly, it was in Seonghwa. It was in the relationship you had built together. And it was in the life you were going to have together.

After the most beautiful wedding, of course.