#fairy kei tights

[pastels-and-lace]

These tights are so cute!

[pastel-pinku]

Spank! For today

[pitchsidestories]

lovers II Keira Walsh x Williamson!Reader

masterlist I word count: 2468

a/n: Hi, we realized that it's our 100th oneshot which sounds absolutely wild, so enjoy. For the readers who wait for the Emily Fox fanfic it will come out next. <3

You were in love with Ibiza.

In love with the beaches and the sunshine, the palm trees and the blue of the ocean.

You were in love with the clubs and bars, your sister and her friends took you to.

But above all, you were in love with your sister’s best friend.

The afternoon sun painted the hotel room in soft golden light as you slipped into a short dress. You could still feel the salty air and the sun from earlier that day on your skin as you began applying mascara to your eyelashes. Except for a bit of hunger, you felt fully content.

“Ready for dinner? You look gorgeous by the way.“, Keiras voice said from behind you.

You hadn’t noticed her coming in.

You flinched, almost stabbing yourself in the eye with the mascara wand.

Keira smiled apologetically at your reflection in the mirror.

You watched as her gaze started to travel down your body, taking in every curve in your tight-fitting dress.

With a smile you turned towards her and bridged the gap between the two of you.

“Are you kidding? Look at you… Your curls are so pretty and soft.“, you whispered, gently running her fingers through her reddish brown hair.

You loved the way the salt water had restored Keiras natural hair texture.

“My curls? I just didn’t straighten my hair.“, she laughed.

Her cheeks flushed slightly, barely visible through the light sunburn on her skin.

Completely enamoured, you beamed at her: “I love it.“

You were about to lean forward to kiss her when someone cleared their throat behind you.

Your heart stopped while you pulled apart. You ran through possible explanations for this situation in your head, just in case you would turn around to face your sister.

Instead, Alex Scott watched the two of you with a knowing grin.

“You do? Oh hi, Alex.“, Keira greeted the former football player.

“Little Williamson is right though. She could have done something with fashion but…“, Alex said without finishing her thought.

You rolled your eyes, she had always tried to convince you to work in the fashion industry but you wouldn’t trade your job as an English teacher in Barcelona for anything in the world.

“She chose to teach people English in Spain and honestly, it was the best decision ever.“, you finished for Alex.

Keira laughed: “I agree with that.“

Leah appeared next to Alex in the doorway. Subconsciously, you tried to put more distance between yourself and Keira.

“Of course, you do, Kei. Because that way you can talk to someone in your mother tongue almost every day. How did the Catalan interview go again?“, your sister teased.

Her best friend released a tired groan: “Don’t remind me.“

Alex changed the subject, pointing with her thumb over her shoulder: “Now that everyone’s dressed up, let’s get some dinner in before we go clubbing.“

“Sounds like a good idea.”, you agreed in a good mood, the sea air made you hungry.

At the restaurant Keira studied the menu thoroughly before looking at you with an innocent smile on her lips.

“Everything here sounds so good, do you want to share?”, she asked.

“Sure.”, you replied happily. Above your heads the fairy lights were switched on and you could hear the waves crashing on to the shore in the background.

The romantic atmosphere was quickly disturbed by your older sister.

“Excuse me? I thought you’d share with me!”, she pouted, sending glances at the Barca player which could kill.

“What about your girlfriend? Doesn’t she want to share with you?”, Keira asked in return, cheeks flushed.

“Yes, Lee, no need to be that dramatic about it.”, Alex Greenwood intervened laughing.

“I’m not dramatic.”, Leah countered smirking.

“That’s just how she’s.”, you explained cheekily.

“Why don’t we order food for the table so we can all share?”, your girlfriend suggested hoping this would calm the Blonde Arsenal defender down.

“Yes, that’s perfect. I’m in.”, the two Alex’s declared grinning.

“Same, you too, Leah?”, you turned around to investigate your sister’s face, waiting for her reaction.

“Sure.”, she nodded, sounding much calmer already.

 “What about a first round of cocktails?”, Jess wanted to know.

“Please.”, Leah answered.

A few minutes later the drinks arrived at your table, beaming you toasted with her. “Cheers.”

“Cheers.”, she responded grinning.  

The sweetness and the alcohol sparked the desire in you to touch your lover’s curly hair again.

“Stop it.”, Keira demanded giggling.

“I’m not doing anything.”, you remarked in a not guilty tone.

“Yes, you’re. Stop it.”, she bit her lip nervously.

“Fine.”, you sighed defeated, quickly finishing your cocktail.

After the last sip you stood up smiling delighted at the other girls. “Girls, are we ready for the club now?”

“Let’s go.”, Alex Greenwood chirmed.

The sun was long gone now, the moon and the stars shown brightly as you and your sister former and current teammates joined the Ibizan night life.

Something your sister and you both shared was the passion for music. While Leah preferred to sing you would take every chance you could get to dance. Before Keira your first love has been rhythm and beats.

“Come on, Kei.”, Alex nudged the red-haired woman who admired you from the distance.

“I don’t dance. I’m here for the drinks.”, she waved the sports journalist off.

“But I do. Come on, Alex.”, Leah remarked cheerfully.

“Coming.“, Alex laughed and let the defender pull her into the direction of the dance floor.

The other Alex jumped up as well, following closely behind: “Hey, wait for me.“

You caught Keiras eye from across the room and danced your way over to her. You were not ready to stop yet but you also didn’t want to leave her alone.

Keira reached for your wrist with a laugh: “Stop twirling around, y/n.“

“Why?“, you asked, spinning out of her grasp.

“Just because.“

You stopped for a moment, studying her face. There was something serious and pleading in her eyes that you didn’t understand. You only wanted to continue dancing with your friends. “Keira…“

You interrupted yourself, taking in a sharp breath in surprise as two hands laid on your hips and spun you around.

A man in his mid-thirties and clearly drunk grinned at you. His gaze traveled down to your neckline while he asked you something that your brain didn’t seem to comprehend. Apparently he wanted you to dance with him but everything about him made clear that he had other things in mind than just dancing.

You froze in place, not sure if you felt disgusted or disgusting.

Just when you were about to say something, your sister squeezed between him and you and pushed him back: “Sorry, no. That’s my sister!“

“And she’s already taken.“, Keira added. You hadn’t noticed that Keira had gotten up from her seat as well.

Leahs head whipped towards her best friend: “What?“

“Uhm…“, you mumbled as you watched the man retreat with his hands raised in surrender.

You desperately tried to find a good reason to change the subject but you just couldn’t come up with one.

“Who is it, y/n? One of your colleagues or one of the Barca girlies?“, Leah asked, her voice tinted with anger.

“It’s…uhm…“, you started and forced yourself not to look at Keira. Lying would be so easy right now. But did you actually want to keep hiding?

Your sister got impatient: “Just tell me.“

“Keira.“, was all you could get out and prayed that you made the right choice.

The two best friends looked at each other. Keira nodded slowly: “It’s me.“

“Wait, you?! When? How? She’s my little sister!“ Leahs eyebrows furrowed in anger.

Keira shrugged, trying to keep her voice calm: “In Barcelona… it just happened.“

Your sister turned towards you with her jaw set: “We’ll talk about this tomorrow morning!“

She stormed off without waiting for an answer and you quietly wondered where she would go.

Keira and you ended the night there and went back to your hotel room.

You walked out on the balcony overlooking the ocean, Keira followed right behind you.

“She’s really mad.“, you said nervously into the night sky.

The midfielder wrapped her arms around you and rolled her eyes: “She can’t be mad about this.“

You knew she had a point.

“No, Lee is more upset about the fact that we didn’t tell her.“

“Still. I can talk with her if you want me to.”, Keira offered while you kept watching the waves come and go which was scarily similar to your older sister’s temper. Deep down you knew she would eventually calm down.

“No, I’ll do it, it’s fine.”, you assured the Barcelona player before kissing her temple softly.

For a moment she closed her eyes under your touch. “She’ll be fine.”, the midfielder whispered in a convinced tone as her lips touched yours in a heartfelt kiss.

“What was the kiss for?”, you raised an eyebrow at her curiously.

“For good luck.”, Keira replied smirking.

“But she said tomorrow so maybe we could just go inside and..”, you begun rambling.

“You think that’s a good idea?”, your girlfriend interrupted you with a doubtful look on her face.

“No, I’ll do it now.”, you sighed, knowing fully well that some things shouldn’t be put on hold. Although you’d miss the comforting hug of the midfielder who pretended to hate them but always made an exception for you.

Cautiously you stood at the entry of the hotel room your sister and her girlfriend were staying in. “Lee, can we chat outside?”

Without a word the older blonde got up and put on her shoes, signalling that she was ready to talk to you outside.

For a while the two of you walked silently on the sand which felt still warm under your naked feet.

“So, you and Keira, huh?”, Leah broke the silence, sounding more curious than mad this time.

“Yeah.”, you answered timidly.

“Since when?” the defender continued asking.

“We got closer when she came to Barcelona.”, you confessed.

“That was forever ago.”, she noted slightly hurt by your reply.

“Yes, but we just started dating a few months ago.”, you added quickly. This much was true. Undoubtedly, you always had a soft spot for your sister’s best friend. The more time you two spend together, the more it became obvious that there was more than just friendship.

“And you didn’t tell me.”, Leah swallowed hard through that realization.

“You didn’t ask me.”, you reminded her.

“If you’re dating my best friend? How was I supposed to know.”, she retorted.

“No, in general, it’s mostly about you when you call me.”, you countered.

“I didn’t realize that. I’m sorry. But I thought you’d tell me such things.”, the defender apologized, her skin despite the tan turned pale.

“It’s okay. I guess we weren’t great sisters for each other recently.”, you admitted guiltily.

Leah nodded in reluctant agreement: “I guess we weren’t.“

There was a moment of silence between the two of you, not uncomfortable but thoughtful.

“But we could do better now.“, you said determinedly,

Your sister stopped walking. You only realized that wasn’t on your side anymore after a few more steps.

You turned towards her and caught her staring at you.

“Y/n?“, she asked.

“Yes?“

“Are you happy?“

You smiled at her: “Very.“

“With Kei?“

“Yes.“, you confirmed again.

Leah studied your face for a moment, searching for any indication of a lie before she finally nodded once: “Okay.“

“Okay?“, you echoed with hopefulness in your voice. You didn’t want to fight with your sister. You wanted her and Keira in your life.

Leah kicked up some sand with her shoe: “Yes, okay. I think I can live with that.“

“Good.“, you beamed and slowly continued your walk, waiting for your sister to take her place by your side again.

You thought your talk was over when your sister suddenly spoke up again: “Y/n?“

You looked at her, signalling her to continue.

“Just because you live a life outside of the public eye doesn’t mean I’m not interested in your life or I’m not proud of you.“

Her words caught you by surprise. You frowned at her in confusion. “Wait, you’re proud of me?“

“Why do you sound so surprised? Obviously I’m proud of you.“

You stared down at the fine sand under your feet: “Sorry.“

Another break in your conversation arose. Apparently, struggling to express your emotions properly ran in your family.

“Not everyone has the bravery to go abroad for work… I would not.“, Leah continued.

You looked back up at her: “Really?“

She nodded slowly: “You know how much I love home. And Arsenal. I just couldn’t.“

Hearing this filled you with pride but at the same time, you had to suppress a smile because you really couldn’t imagine your sister anywhere else.

“True, you’re such a homebody.“, you laughed.

Your sister smirked and gave you a small shrug: “See, we’re just very different.“

“Yes, but that’s okay.“, you assured her. You could feel the tension dissolve slowly.

Leah raised an eyebrow: “I will still have to talk to Keira though.“

You let out a groan: “Oh no, not the big sister talk.“

“Oh yes, even for my best friend.“

“Fine, but try and be nice, okay?“, you asked innocently.

“Of course.“

“Thank you.“

She reached over and ruffled through your blonde hair: “Anything for my little sister.“

You tried to get revenge. You two were laughing like children while you chased her down the beach.

You never heard anything about their talk. Both Keira and Leah refused to tell you anything and stubbornly maintained their silence. You didn’t care anyway. They seemed closer than ever and that was all that mattered to you.

The next days were spend at the beach, enjoying the sun and the refreshing coolness of the sea.

“No. I’m not going into the water.“ Keira shook her head determinedly. She had spend the morning straightening her hair but to you, that was not a reason to miss out on swimming.

“Come on.“ You impatiently pulled at her arm.

Leah appeared on Keiras other side, pushing her forward. “You better go now.“

Together you barrelled towards the sea, falling over each as soon as you reached the water. The rest of your friend group burst out laughing,

Keira pushed her now wet hair back. It started to curl at the ends already.

“I hate you Williamsons!“, she laughed.

You kissed her cheek: “No, you don’t.“

“Not really, no.“, Keira admitted and pulled you towards her by your waist to kiss you.

Leah grimaced in disgust: “Okay, but you don’t have to kiss in front of me.“

“Stop complaining.“, you rolled your eyes.

Keira grinned at her: “You better get used to it, Lee.“

[cillianmesoftlyyy]

What I Want... | William Killick x fem!reader

summary: Elise is the daughter of an army surgeon who must learn to live with her father's new boarder, Officer William Killick. What begins as a childish crush quickly becomes deep-rooted resentment for the haughty young officer, but one night at dinner when Elise forces the men to listen to what she has to say, that resentment becomes something more once again.

warnings: Smut, misogyny, age-gap (19 & 26), unprotected sex, degrading talk, angst, fingering, oral (f receiving), semi-public.

word count: 5,061k

*edited 5/25/24- switched to 2nd person pronouns.

Say Yes To Heaven- Lana Del Ray 🎶

Mystery- Jesse Jo Stark 🎵

I'm back! Did you miss me? 💋

To start the story, you must imagine a country courtyard, a quaint country home outside of London. The house is small and built on the edge of the city, before the suburbs became a fairy tale destination for starter families. That house is home to a widower and his daughter, recovering from the shock of the Blitz. Even in the English countryside, the war could still be felt like vibrations through the ground. You could feel them too. The daughter of an army doctor, you grew up in a strict household reeking of repressed emotion. Your father was a widower and an emotionally unavailable army doctor, so you followed the typical protocol. You acted out in your teenage years, trying to make up for the hole your mother’s absence left in your home. By eighteen you were your own person, stronger and more independent. You tried to be completely normal, just like everyone else, because you didn’t want to be different. You rode your bike, borrowed books from the library, and painted your nails with red lacquer. You were just a girl, preparing to study away at university, when William Killick joined your household in the summer of ‘46. 

He was a boarder and a prestigious one at that. He was a decorated officer, brave, mature…handsome. 26 never looked so good on a man. At the beginning of the summer, William ignored your stares, your darting eyes, and nervous smiles. You were the last thing on his mind and who can blame him? Surviving the war took a toll on the man and manifested physically in his nightmares and tight jaw. The day he arrived, William had just a few belongings with him. One of which was a typewriter because he was set on writing about the war. Your father had invited him to stay for the summer, offering whatever assistance he needed to get back onto his feet. William took it cautiously, embarrassed to receive such enormous help from a man who had already saved his life once before. You, the doctor’s daughter, had been mentioned only once before, subtext in a telegram, barely important. After arriving two weeks before, it had become clear to William that you were to be his housemate and awkward teenage neighbor. 

William was not good with girls but he was great with women. Anyone below the age of twenty became alien. He didn’t know how to talk to them, so he didn’t. William would watch you from his bedroom window as you lounged in the backyard, dipping your feet into the deep fountain by the garden wall. You tossed and turned on the fountain’s surface, sunning yourself like a lizard. William would lick his lips and looked away, turning his attention to the keys of his typewriter. 

When you would come inside, your feet still wet from the fountain, you could hear the irritatingly familiar sound of typewriter keys. William’s fingers struck each tab fiercely with a precision that sounded like vengeance. You had hated it at first, fumming in your bedroom with a pillow pressed around your ears, but you found the sound comforting now. At night it reminded you that he was awake, watching, aware. You felt safe and found yourself falling asleep faster. You never told him this, however, you rarely talked to him at all. His stern-looking face and quiet demeanor was off putting and cautionary to a young woman. William had been there for only three weeks and you’d barely said one word to him at all. You watched him more and more, feeling a kernel of desire hardening in your chest. It was a girlish crush, something that entertained you when the long hours of summer bored you. 

You couldn’t help, however, to wonder if William ever looked out his window as you swung your shapely legs back and forth on the swing in your backyard. You hoped it would draw him out of his room one day, but your lax attitude and childish behavior still irked the older Officer. Even if his eyes lingered on your freckled shoulders during dinner, you were little more than an annoying child to him. Your breakfasts together were awkward and spent in silence while the doctor was making house calls. William took his coffee in silence, no longer able to stay awake after just one cup of tea. His nightly nightmares made it impossible to do much sleeping. 

One month into William’s stay, you ventured to finally speak to the man. Creeping quietly into the breakfast room and wearing a pretty girl’s play uniform and ribbons in your hair, you pulled his attention away from his newspaper. 

“Are you going to the victory parade, Captain?” 

Your voice broke the silence in William’s mind. He glanced up and noticed you standing beside your chair, your blush colored hand gripping the back of your chair. Your quiet voice shocked the thoughts from his head. 

“Pardon?” He asked as he cleared his throat. The newspaper collapsed over his fists. You blinked nervously and licked your lips. 

“Are you going to the victory parade? It’s on the front page,” you pointed to the front page of the newspaper he held between his hands. William tore his eyes from your face and checked the paper, annoyance rising in his throat. He took a moment to read the headline and groaned internally. 

“No, I won’t.” He answered evenly and flicked the paper back into place. You disappeared behind the wall of words and bit your lip in embarrassment. He kept his eyes focused on the page, though not reading, while you slipped out of the room. Your sandals clicked obnoxiously as you rushed up the stairs into your room. 

Your face burned from embarrassment and anger, so you cupped your hands against your cheeks. You cursed beneath your breath and resisted the urge to scream and kick your feet in the air. Your conversation had lasted for less than a minute and you learned exactly how rude the Officer could be. Were all men of higher rank like that? What gave Officer Killick the right to treat you in that way, so disinterested and unbothered? He was technically YOUR guest! You fummed in the privacy of your bedroom as William chewed his toast calmly and swallowed. 

…

  William remained frustratingly unbothered as he dressed for dinner, fixing his hair and straightening his dinner jacket. He cleared the dark hair from his forehead and sighed through his nose, his jaw set painfully as if he were suppressing a yawn. His door remained ajar and the movement of you passing in the hallway caught his eyes in the mirror. Your small waist was wrapped in a red romper and your brown mary janes squeaked quietly against the floorboards’ grain. You’d left your hair ribbons behind and your hair fell messily behind your shoulders. 

You tried to breathe evenly as you descended the stairs. The sounds of your father emerging from his study for dinner comforted your nervous attitude. You dreaded the arrival of the man upstairs, dreading having to listen politely as the men discussed their days, opinions, thoughts. It made you dislike the man more but it also made your crush that much more unbearable. You picked at the skin on your palms when you all met at the dining room table in silence. You listened as the men discussed politics as they usually did, the boredom boring into your temples like screws. You studied the smug profile of the young officer and pinched the skin on your thigh. Call you immature but you wanted to cause trouble, raise a little hell for the man, just enough to make him finally acknowledge your existence. 

“Officer Killick told me that he isn’t participating in the victory parade,” you casually announced, cutting your meat and licking the juice from your fork. Her father raised his eyebrows inquisitively. 

“Oh?” He asked as he chewed. William looked at the girl, his brows furrowed. What were you doing? 

“Ah no,” William cleared his throat and wiped his mouth with his cloth napkin. 

“It’s a pity,” you interjected, your eyes trained on your plate. 

“Why’s that?” William retorted, cautious of your tainted tone. 

“The parade is celebrating your victory, our victory. Surly Churchill would want you to be there.” 

William swallowed sharply, his blue eyes now trained on you at the table, sitting adjacent to him. 

“I owe Mr. Churchill nothing.” His voice was cold, his shoulders stiff, and his eyes narrowed, “and as long as you aren’t in cahoots with the man, I doubt he would ever know I wasn’t there to celebrate such a phony victory.” 

“Are you not pleased with the outcome, Officer Killick?” You asked calmly. Your father looked between the two of you with nervous glances. 

“That’s an unfair question.”

“How so?” 

“We may have won but the loss of human lives in the process barely justifies the minimal victory we claim to have earned.” 

“Are you such a pessimist?” You leaned closer and watched as the man lost more of his patience. 

“I’m a realist. I know what the war did and I know the effect it will continue to have because of what we did. No victory is worth what I’ve seen.” His eyes betrayed his erratic state. Images of war flashed in his eyes. 

He was breathing heavily as your eyes locked over the dinner table. You watched him, your eyes softening at the sight of the man cracking beneath the pressure of your conversation. His hair had been displaced and strands stuck to his perspiring forehead. His adam’s apple bobbled in his throat as he swallowed. 

“You still don’t want to celebrate what you’ve accomplished, what we have now because of what you and other men had to do? War is about sacrifices and even sacrifices should be celebrated.” You offered evenly and looked down at your plate shyly. William took a deep breath and sighed, picking up his fork to resume eating.  

“I shouldn’t be celebrated. Nothing I did was worth praise.” He said quietly and looked at the doctor. “In fact, doctor, you should know that the man you’ve allowed to stay in your home is just as bad as the men he was forced to slaughter. I’ve done things…” he faltered and sniffed loudly. William stood and dropped his napkin on the table beside his plate. He looked once again at you, his eyes soft once more. 

“I’ve done things no young woman should ever have to know about.” His eyes lingered on your face as he spoke and when he was finished he turned and left the room. His footsteps echoed emptily in the dark house as he left out through the back door. The doctor paused before looking at you.

“Elise,” he sighed, “we’ve all made sacrifices that we’d prefer not to remember. Parades tend to make us remember.” He sipped slowly from his wine glass and cleared his throat. 

…

You finished your dinner quickly and excused yourself. When your father was safely removed to his bedroom, you snuck down the stairs in your bare feet, hoping to avoid making any noise that would wake your father. In the cover of warm darkness, William stood beside the fountain, his hands shoved into his pockets. He stared wordlessly into the glimmering water until he heard your approach and whipped his head around. His wide eyes relaxed once he recognized your silhouette and soft voice. 

“Sorry, sir,” you whispered into the summer air. William looked back at the fountain and bit his tongue slightly. 

“You’re something else, aren’t you?” He muttered. 

“Sir?”

“How did your father allow you to grow up into such a brat?” He spun around, his voice harsh with a snarl. The ridge of his nose was crinkled as he spoke. You quivered beneath his tone and bit the inside of your cheek. 

“You don’t know me well enough to say that.”

“Then what was that at dinner? How dare you talk to me like that!” He turned around, his voice dark and angry. You sucked in a breath, watching as his hands rose in the air and froze. 

“I was angry and I overreacted,” you whispered weakly. William’s shoulders relaxed slightly in the dark. 

“Why?” He asked with a tired sigh and fished around in his pocket for a cigarette. 

“We’ve barely had even one conversation since you got here. This morning I was trying to make polite conversation and you were quite rude about it.” You spoke with your hands waving about your body and your breath tight as you searched for words. 

“Maybe I don’t like polite conversation,” William grumbled as he struck a match and tried to light his cigarette, “damn it.” He cursed when his hands shook, making it impossible to light his cigarette. 

“Maybe you have no manners,” you countered and took the small matchbook from the man. William watched you cautiously as you struck a new match and offered him the flame. William bent over and puffed out smoke until the cigarette’s end was properly lit. He pulled it from his lips and exhaled. 

“I stopped caring about manners during the war. In a world where there are so many problems, manners just seem ridiculous to waste my energy on. So, as to my point, I don’t like making polite conversation. If I wanted to talk to you about something, I would.”

“Well why haven’t you?” You crossed your arms across your chest and dug your toe into the soft bed of the lawn, avoiding his eyes like a shy schoolgirl. 

“Sometimes I don’t have anything to say,” William shrugged. 

“To women you mean,” you finished for him and his eyes shot back to your’s. He looked you up and down before he shook his head with a smirk you’d never seen before. 

“I don’t know if I would call you that. You’re a little young.” 

“And what? Does that make you an old man?” You smiled and glanced back at the house behind you, most of the windows devoid of light. 

“In some sense, yes,” William looked down at his cigarette and furrowed his eyebrows. 

“Well, I’m not a little girl, Officer Killick.” You smiled, “and I’m certainly not a brat.” 

“We’ll see about that,” William smiled back and twirled his cigarette between his fingers. As he looked down at the cigarette in his hand, a pair of soft lips kissed him quickly. You held his top lip carefully in your mouth before stepping back, watching his eyes for a reaction. William swallowed and opened his mouth to speak but no words came. You stared at each other in the darkness until William kissed you again, bending his shoulders down to meet your lips. It had been forever since he had kissed a woman and the rush of your breath fanning against his lips made him shiver. You wrapped your arms briefly around his shoulders and rose to your tiptoes. You held their lips still against one another for a moment and William felt himself sigh into you. Your smaller body radiated warmth into his, making him aware of the sweat collecting at the small of his back. With his free hand, William snaked his hand up your neck to your hair and clasped it in his hand. You smelled so nice and strands of your silky hair slipped from his fingers. 

“Y/N…” he whispered as he broke their kiss. Your bright eyes fluttered open and looked up at him. Suddenly, the scene became all too real to him. William took a step back, dropping his hand from your hair. He dragged a hand through his own hair and furrowed his brow. The dim light from the dining room leaked into the yard, casting a jaundice light on the young woman before him. From your perspective, the officer’s form was backlit, illuminating the width of his shoulders and the curve of his neck as he tilted his head to the side. He sighed heavily and took a long drag of his cigarette. Smoke filtered from his nose as he dropped the cigarette and stubbed it out with his heel. 

“Do you always get what you want?” He said calmly. You caught your breath, the sound of the fountain behind you becoming deafening. His blue eyes glimmered like dying stars in the dark. Your chest rose and fell as time felt as if it was standing still. That moment before a bomb exploded, before the ground gave out and the windows shattered around you. His hand waited at his side, flexing and relaxing as he watched you. 

“Yes,” you whispered finally. William drew in a shaky breath and nodded softly, risking a step towards you. 

“Then…” he started “who am I to resist you now?” He asked seriously, getting closer. Your eyes followed his hand as it found your hip in the dark. 

“But Y/N…” he started again and looked you up and down, “someone ought to tell you no.” He smirked haughtily and tilted your head back by your chin. He leaned his mouth in beside your ear and growled, “no one likes a fucking brat.” 

His words tickled the peach fuzz down your neck and you shivered, frightened by the tone of his deep voice. William dropped his hand from your waist and turned away. You watched his back as he walked away from you in the dark, towards the light of the house. Not ready to give up yet, you rushed to him and grabbed his forearm, urging him to stop. 

“Killick,” you whispered in a small voice. He looked over his shoulder at you, your red romper creased from dinner. He could just make out the light colored hair on your upper thighs in the offcast-light. Something in your facial expression changed him, the doe-like look in your eyes or your cupid bow lips, puckered in desire. He turned back around and kissed you, your hand still wrapped tightly around his arm. His hands reached for your waist and grabbed tightly at the flesh there. You dropped his hand when he picked you up by your waist, holding you up painfully on your tip-toes. Now you looked down slightly at him, his eyes dark and mature, scary and different in the nighttime. 

“What do you want from me, Y/N?” He grunted up at you, his voice heavy. You swallowed nervously and whined quietly from the painful way his fingers bore into your waist, the fabric of your romper giving your an uncomfortable wedgie

“I-,” you took a breath, “want you.”

“Oh, do you now?” William smirked, rubbing his thumbs across the fabric around your sides. “And you always get what you want, so what makes me special to you? Why should I let you have me?” 

You tried to catch your breath in your uncomfortable position.  

“I’ve never wanted anyone like this before,” you whispered, breathless. It was an honest response that embarrassed you and your face flushed a deep unflattering pink. William laughed briefly and lowered your back to the ground. 

“You’re just a naive little girl,” William stated, “you don’t know what you want.” 

“No, you’re right. I don’t.” You answered, frustration showing in your tone, “It’s not enough that I’m making a fool of myself saying these things to you, you have to make me feel stupid as well. My father does enough of that.” 

“You’re not stupid,” William observed quietly, but you were already mad, your voice gaining a harsher edge as you spoke.

“No, I’m not. I know I’m not. But to you and every other man that has ever been inside this house, I’m just a foolish little girl who knows nothing about the real world. And you may be right, Officer Killick, I may know nothing of war but it's only because you men have made it so that I can’t. I know nothing about how it feels for men and women to be together but I know something of how I feel, I know what want  is. I know what desire is. I desire so many things, sir. I want an education, I want to be taken seriously, I want to get out of this house, and right now, I want you. 

Your voice was no louder than a whisper but you felt as though you had been shouting. William watched you as you spoke, his jaw loosening as he listened. When you finished, he raised his eyebrow. Saying nothing, he stepped closer and swept the hair off your shoulders to your back. 

“You speak of desire,” William said softly as his hands cradled your neck, “I didn’t think I could desire anything after I came back.” 

You looked up at William and breathed out shakily when he began stroking your throat. 

“Why do I desire such an aggravating young woman? How could I want you so desperately when you make me so fucking angry?” 

“I could say the same sir,” you whispered, your hands hesitantly finding his chest beneath his jacket. William looked down at your sweet face and kissed you softly. You gripped the slack in his shirt, pulling him closer. William began to kiss you harder, shifting his head to the other side, and breathing deeply against your skin. You moaned softly as his hands slid down the front of your romper, lingering over your breasts. Your nipples hardened beneath his light touch as his thumbs passed over them. His hands traveled down to your bare thighs and then back up, slipping up your shorts. 

His right hand shifted over to your crotch, pulling and prodding at the material there. You moaned and rose up on the balls of your feet. You pushed the dinner jacket from his shoulders, watching as it fell to the grass behind him in a pile. Stumbling backwards, William held your waist against his stomach, bending your back away from him as he kissed you. You pulled at his hair, taking handfuls in your palms and tugging lightly. The Officer felt blood rush to his cock as he lowered you onto the grass beside the fountain. Your kisses became more erratic, sloppy with nerves and fear. Your heart seemed to beat so fast and hard that the ground quivered beneath you. William reached around your back, finding the small zipper at the nape of your neck and unzipped the romper slowly. 

“Wait,” you whispered and drew away from the man, “I don’t know how to do this.” 

William nodded, his breath shallow from lust, “It's alright sweetheart.” His voice was deep and contrasted strangely with the lightness of his blue eyes. The tree adjacent to your bodies covered you with a blanket of additional darkness, but even still, you could trace the outline of the officer’s face with your eyes. 

“You don’t have to do anything,” he whispered against your ear as he moved the straps from your shoulders, exposing the flesh below your collarbones and above your breasts. “But because you’re such a spoiled brat who gets whatever you wants…” his eyes flicked up to hers as he pulled the romper down your chest. “It's my turn to do what I want.” 

William tugged the romper down your waist and maneuvered it off your legs, setting it neatly to the side. Below your romper, you wore only underwear. William’s hands shook as he traced the hemming of the pretty panties, trailing a finger from the point of your pelvis to the inside of your thigh. You panted nervously, your chest rising and falling in quick succession. You resisted the urge to cover your breasts with your arms, embarrassed that you were so exposed when he was still almost fully dressed. With one last quick glance up at the house, William kissed your navel and then again on the soft pouch of flesh above the top of your underwear. 

When he pulled your underwear down to your knees, you gasped and covered your mouth quickly, shocked by the reality of your situation. At any moment, your father could awake and find the two other rooms empty. At any moment, your father could come outside to see the young officer lower his mouth to your thighs and kiss them gently. The house, however, stayed quiet and dark as William spread your legs as far as you could with the underwear still around your knees, and rubbed his pointer finger between the folds of your cunt. 

“I want to feel you around my fingers,” William said hoarsely, holding himself over you, still kneeling between your crooked legs. “I want to see how much you can take.” He added with a soft smirk before slowly inserting one finger inside you. You arched your back slightly, scared by the intrusion that wasn’t necessarily pleasurable. 

“It’s in,” he encouraged you quietly and moved his finger back and forth, coating it with your natural lubricant. “You’re doing so well, sweetheart.” William watched your face. Your eyes widened as his finger went deeper, making you feel full with just one finger inside. It didn’t really feel like anything, though you enjoyed the closeness it awarded you as William’s face got closer and closer to your own. His breath mingled with your’s, your eyes locked. 

“Just one more finger and you’ll start to feel it. It’ll feel good.” William told you as he slowly inserted a second finger. You quickly muffled your moan as William worked the two fingers inside. The Officer was right, that’s when you started to feel it. William curled his fingers up and worked them in and out, prodding at the small button-like organ inside your cunt. You squirmed beneath him, your hips thrusting up as you tried to work through the sensations. 

“Good…” William praised you, licking his lips quickly, and looked down at your wet cunt. Then he slowly lowered his face between your thighs and watched up close as his fingers worked inside you, eliciting dampened whimpers and sighs. Watching your changing facial expressions, William applied his mouth to your clit and began to suck gently. Immediately, your hips jutted forward, Your free hand pulled up handfuls of grass and you bit down on your palm. You whimpered loudly through your teeth and William smiled against your cunt, licking your folds in quick, cat-like laps. 

“Sir,” you moaned, your eyes rolling into the back of your head, “s-something's happening. Mmmmmm oh god!” You cried as William sucked harder on your clit, his fingers fucking you with more violence. 

“You’re cuming. Good, good girl.” William smirked and helped your ride through your violent first orgasm. Your hips fell back against the grass as cloudy juice coated his tired fingers. Licking them clean, William sat back on his knees and admired your beautiful body. You looked up at him with your wide, doe-like eyes. Your hair was wild and sweat glistened across your collarbones. William had not been able to get an erection since he left the airforce, but now, he felt the old-familiar feeling of his cock being crushed against his pants. His crotch tented out toward you. You were panting as you tried to catch your breath. 

“We’re not quite done yet,” William ran a hand up your thigh to your cheek. The muscles in your stomach contracted as his hand passed over them. With his free hand, William undid the front of his trousers and pulled his erection from his underwear. His pants fell slightly below his pale butt as he supported himself over you again. “Put your hand on it,” William ordered kindly and waited patiently as you reached for his cock in the dark. He sighed loudly as you held his cock and began to rub your hand up and down. 

“Good, keep doing that and go a little faster…. Just like that, yes.” 

“It’s so big…” You whispered, biting your lip. 

“Well what’d you expect, sweetheart?” William tried to smile before breaking into a moan. “Ok, I’ll take over again from here. I’m going to fuck you now, ok?” He waited for you to nod before he raised one of your legs and lined himself up with your entrance. “This will hurt a little. Try to be quiet, ok?” He pushed inside and felt the immediate contraction of your cunt around him as he did. 

“So fucking wet, bloody hell.” William watched as his cock slid inside, your cum glistening around his length. You covered your mouth once again and gasped each time he pulled back and reentered you. “Oh I’m going to fuck your sweet little cunt,” William groaned, holding himself back from fucking you as hard as he wanted to. 

“It feels so good,” You gasped behind your hand and William nodded. 

He started to move deeper, slightly shifting the girl’s body across the grass as his hips met hers. His butt flexed as he went as far as he could inside her, whimpering when you squeezed around him. As he started to gain more momentum, William grunted each time he thrusted into you and you bit down on your thumb to stop yourself from yelling out in pleasure. He held one of your thighs up to your chest, helping his cock find the button of pleasure inside your cunt. When he did, you moaned around your thumb. You grabbed at the Officer’s shirt, pulling him closer to your chest. William supported himself just above your face and kissed your splotchy pink neck as he went slower. 

“I’m going to cum again,” you whimpered beside his ear. 

William smirked and bit down gently on your shoulder, his hips rutting deeply into you. 

“Cum for me, sweetheart.” William urged you as he worked up to his own climax. Your whimpers peaked as you came around him for a second time, your hands grabbing onto the back of his shirt. Fucking you a little faster as you whinned beneath him, William came to a blinding climax. Pulling out just in time, he spilled his hot seed onto the ground beside you. You stared at each other as you panted, both of your grotesquely pale skin glowing in the dark. Finally, William kissed you again, sucking on your bottom lip as you sighed softly. 

And just as you pulled apart, a soft yellow light came on upstairs.

....

Should there be a part 2?

[murmiss]

Yandere Simulator.

(accordingly, inspired by the game Yandere Simulator)

Pairing: Ghost/You, Price/You, Gaz/You,Soap/You, Graves/You, Konig/You, Alejandro/You, Rudy/You, Horangi/You. Valeria/You. (I assume that this is not all, since the idea is taken from the Yandere Simulator, in the harem version).

Warning: College, city and certain places and people are fictitious, the education system is fictitious, OOC is possible,My personal headcannons and character vision.Different ages, mention yandere,mentioning mental problems, etc.there may be mistakes in words, English is not my first language.

Summary: Inspired by the game Yandere simulator, where you are the main character, a simple girl in in which different guys with different types and characters are interested, and of course, there is Yandere.

you can express your opinion :)

1 part.

You were born into a simple, extremely ordinary family. Your father was a banker, walking around in his favorite stereotypical outfit: a strict gray suit and a tie, as an indicator of masculinity. Every morning, Mrs. Attwoord, getting up early, cooked breakfast, her children's favorite scrambled eggs and sandwiches, collected breakfast and, like a loving housewife wife, escorted her husband to work, leaving an imperceptible trace of a kiss on his cheek, and carefully tying his tie with her elegant fingers. Next comes the younger brother, the "heir", as his grandmother affectionately calls him, although you sincerely do not understand it: what to inherit? Your father has no company, no business, no fancy house, what can the son of a simple bank employee inherit? But it's not the point that matters. Next, after her brother, the middle daughter Eliza wakes up- an exceptional beauty, with glossy wheat hair, a doll's face- almost a copy of her mother.Eliza was a promising dancer, but she was not a good singer, but she danced perfectly, performing a light bunch of moves to some loud song at every party. Then, at the very end, you woke up.

Usually, it was the last ring of the alarm clock, which you heard through the veil of sleep, not wanting to miss the outcome of the battle between Harry Potter and some fairies. But your mother's shriek, tired of trying to wake you up, let out a loud shriek, forcing you to jump up from your seat and rush to the bathroom, showering and washing up at speed.Standing at the mirror and looking at your exhausted eyes, your hands reached for a small cosmetic bag and your favorite concealer, which, as you hoped, would hide not only the sins, but also the dark bags under your eyes. Next was eyebrow gel and lip gloss - you didn't have much time to put on makeup, and you didn't see much point in it, because you weren't going on a date. In terms of clothing, your choice fell on a skirt-shorts in a large pleated dark blue color, beige T-shirt, which for convenience you tucked into the skirt, a light cardigan for warmth, and complemented the image of black capron tights, which at least somehow but added to the image of completeness. And on your feet you left comfortable sneakers.

After stuffing notebooks and stationery, house keys, lipstick, hairbrush, and perhaps a sketchbook into her backpack, the girl quickly went down to the first floor, grabbed a sandwich from the table, and hurried out of the house, to the excited cry of her mother: "Honey! You forgot your breakfast!"

But the bus, you know, won't wait for you to finish, so you sped up and headed for the bus stop, but when you saw the damn bus in the distance, you immediately broke into a sprint, running like a marathon runner and mentally cursing.

"If you leave now, asshole, I'll put a curse on you!"

And thank God, as if hearing your pleas (curses), the driver waited for the girl in distress. Almost jumping into the bus, skipping the steps, you plopped down on the only free seat and relaxed exhaled, leaning back on the back of the uncomfortable seat. A couple of stops later, leaving the packed bus, or rather, the mechanical inferno, the gates of the college appeared before your eyes. The college was a historic building that people had equipped as a "place of knowledge". Antique patterns, massive doors made of pure wood, high ceilings - all this looked really intimidating and mesmerizing. Passing the gate, you looked at the students with interest: here were girls in brightly colored dresses excitedly babbling about something, here was a group of guys, six people laughing, and here were just loners walking towards the building with headphones in their ears. There were huge trees growing on the college grounds: pine trees, mighty oaks, and even flowers. The place was indeed beautiful. But soon after you took your eyes off the beauty of the place, you noticed that there was already five minutes of class going on! As you rushed into the building, you slammed into someone's strong chest. When you looked up, trying to catch your breath from a short jog, you saw a guy, tall, sturdy, and wearing a half-face mask, which was a little weird, because it wasn't quarantine period or anything. Well, maybe it's an image of him, you thought. Realizing you've been staring at each other for a few moments, you mumble.

-Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't see you there.

You didn't? That's the stupidest excuse ever, to be honest, because it's hard not to notice a big guy like that. The guy nodded, but didn't answer, and, feeling rather awkward, you threw another "sorry" and rushed further into the classroom. And good thing the teacher was late. Entering the classroom, you noticed a guy who sat with an improvised slingshot in his hands, made of two pencils and a rubber band. Oh, yes, you know this jerk - John MacTavish, a Scottish guy, explosive in character, but at the same time the soul of the company and incredibly cute and dorky guy. Noticing you he waved his hand, removing his backpack from its place and beckoning you over. Shaking your head, you quickly climb up to the top and plop down on the seat next to him, pulling out a space-print notebook and a couple of pens.

-What have you got there? When did you start liking Cosmos?- John asked with interest.

-I borrowed a couple of notebooks from Eliza,-you said, sighing, and put your elbow on the table, propping your head on your hand and staring at John, who was fastening erasers and pens with little rubber bands.

-What are you doing?

-Sword-with a serious face John answered, causing you to raise an eyebrow and ask: "A sword?"

-Yeah, the guy pulled out a little man made of erasers from his pencil case and happily demonstrated it to you.

-God, John...-a slight laugh escaped your lips.

[kiryoutann]

Before reading, please check series masterlist to read the warning(s), disclaimer, and to make sure you’re on the right chapter. Minors do NOT interact.

WHEN YOU WERE A CHILD, the world was a small, uncomplicated place. Mom and Dad don't have much money to travel abroad and their jobs only allow for little leisure, so the furthest vacation spot is a beach four hours' drive from your home city. School fills your days with lessons, friends, and the promise of weekend sleepovers. Every day, you stroll down the same street and greet your neighbors by name. Happiness was as close as your mother's freshly baked blueberry pie.

But now? When your world becomes wider and the reach of your hand becomes longer, it seems that happiness finds further hiding places. It grieves you that childhood was too brief; that bubble of safety from the world's woes and tribulations burst before you could even appreciate it.

The five-year-old you looked in the mirror, twisting your tiny feet to see the new shoes from all angles. Despite your repeated protests that you preferred the blue one, your mother purchased the bright pink one—she said it matched her favorite dress, and mother knows best, so you don't have to bother thinking about what you wanted. You shrugged to yourself; at least it's better than your old one.

Walking down the hall, you found your father. He's not in his usual play clothes – he's dressed for work, eyes crinkling as he smiles. "My little princess, you look so pretty!"

You beamed at his praise, chubby cheeks glowing. Nothing makes your heart sing like Dad's smile. You spin around like a princess in a fairy tale, showing off your shoes by stomping gently on the wooden surface.

“Mom bought it for me. It's not blue, but I like it!”

Dad chuckled. “Well, at least she spent my money on my favorite girl.”

Your mother emerged from the kitchen, your lunch bag in hand. “I saw them on sale at the store and just knew they'd be perfect for school,” she says proudly. Your father turned to you, opening his mouth to say something but, Mother interrupted. “We'd better get going or she'll be late for class.”

Dad sighs, mumbling a “yes, I know,” and kneels to sweep you into a tight hug. Your secret handshake is special – finger guns with “pew pew” noises, then knuckles bumping before more hugs and kisses. Your mother rolled her fondly eyes. “You two are always conspiring, sharing your little secrets. Now say goodbye, Daddy has to get to work."

You dislike it when Dad has to leave for work—in fact, you prefer him to Mom. But, Mom said he had to go or else there would be no food on the table for dinner; Besides, Daddy will definitely come back home and you can play with him again. You waved, forcing a smile to look as happy as possible.

"Bye, Daddy!"

"See you soon, princess." With a wave of his hand, your father answered and vanished behind the wooden door.

As Daddy's car pulls away from the curb, you hear Mom walking over to where the car keys are kept. You take a deep breath before exhaling slowly, but that strange tightness in your chest persists—one that usually occurs when it's just Mom and you. She opened the door and told you to go to the car. You followed her in silence, eyes fixed on the pattern on your new pink shoes.

Sliding into the backseat, you peer out the window. The car engine started, and the radio played the same playlist. You watch the buildings and trees move backward. Mom glances at you in the rearview mirror and corrects you about your slumped posture, saying it's an ugly look for a young lady. You sat up straight in your chair and muttered an apology. Satisfied, your mother returned her attention to the road.

Secretly, you wish it could be your dad driving you to school instead. He's more fun, telling silly stories to make you laugh, and doesn't mind your messy crayons or clothes that don't match perfectly. Your mother always finds fault with anything that is unclean or out of place.

Looking up at the clear sky, you hope the sun will soon be above, indicating that lunchtime is approaching. Lunchtime means it's a few hours until sundown, and dinner will soon be served.  You want to quickly see Dad and hear whatever stories he has during the day—that is, if he comes home. Lately, work has been keeping him from home more and more. However, if he's too busy, then tomorrow will do—Sunday sounds fun. He never missed a Sunday with you.

The weekend comes quickly, and you can barely contain your excitement when Dad takes you to the park Sunday morning. You walk hand in hand down the busy sidewalk, you chat a mile a minute about school. Laughter and barking greeted you both.

A fluffy golden retriever catches your eye, and you tug Daddy's hand, pointing excitedly. “Can we get a puppy, Daddy? Please? I'd take such good care of it, I promise!”

Your father chuckled, then shook his head. “You know how your mother feels about furry friends making a mess in the house.”

Disappointed, you scruff your shoes in the dirt. Dad never refuses what you want, no matter how ridiculous it is, unless it contradicts Mom. Unfortunately, the majority of what you desire is always something your mother despises. You continue walking.

Then he points – an ice cream cart! “Can I have one?” You ask, only to remember. "Mom said no sweets before dinner."

Dad crouches to meet your downcast eyes. “But Mom's not here. And you and me, we're partners in crime, right? I won't tell if you won't. What do you say we keep our sweet treat just between us?”

Gasping for joy, bubbles of laughter escaped your lips. "Okay!" Dad got you cones, of course, chocolate ones, and you swung your clasped hands and gawked at all the colorful, melted options. There's no better way to spend a Sunday than taking a stroll with Dad in the sunshine.

Monday night, however, was spent with you lying in bed with a fever ravaging your little body. Through the haze, you hear raised voices carrying down the hall—Mom scolding Dad for letting you have that ice cream.

“I can't believe you disobeyed me, Peter! One ice cream and now she's sick as a dog.” Her shrill voice pierces your pounding head.

“C'mon Anna, the girl's allowed a treat now and then.” Dad's calmer rumble does little to quell your mother's fury.

“If you'd listened to me from the start, this never would've happened. But you always think you know best.” Their arguing grows more heated, and you curl into a tight ball, wishing you could disappear.

Your mother's booming footsteps grew farther away as their conversations ceased. You open your eyes. When your door creaks and you turn around, the light from the corridor peeks through a tiny opening, and your father's form fills the frame. He sits next to you with a strained, contrite expression on his face.

“Hey, honey,” he started. “I'm sorry our secret got out. Mom's just worried about you being sick.”

You try to smile, though it comes out as more of a grimace. “S’okay, Daddy.” You said, and he stroked your damp hair tenderly; concern etched deep.

“Jesus, you're burning up. How about a story to take your mind off feeling bad?”

As if on cue, you remember – “The Nutcracker, please!”

With a kind grin, your father got up to get the cherished book. He takes a seat next to you, acts puzzled as he flips through a book and clears his throat.

"Now let's see, how did this story go again?" You chuckled at his attempt to divert your attention from your fever.

Soon later, he starts reading aloud with a low, comfortable voice. Sometimes, he stumbles over long words or loses his place, but each time he simply smiles sheepishly before continuing on. His favorite part is the dialogue, as he frequently adopts a different voice to portray different characters. You find yourself entranced, following each magical adventure.

For a little while, you can forget about the uncomfortable heat covering your body and Mom's angry shouts. In these quiet moments with your father, nothing else matters but his gentle company. In this once kinder world, he is still your father and you are still his favorite daughter—his one and only. Even if getting an ice cream is what makes you sick, you would do it all over again just to share this time with him.

By the story's end, your eyelids grow heavy enough, but not quite heavy. Dad chuckled, closing the book. “Still awake, little love? You must be feeling better.”

Your lips curve into a smile, glazed eyes glistening as flushed cheeks rise. “Mom signed me up for ballet classes,” you mumble sleepily.

A gasp escaped his lips, his forehead shot upwards emphasizing the already existing wrinkles. He looked at you with irises the same color as yours. You chuckle from his reaction, but your smile fades when his features swim and blur before you like figures in a dream. His gaze was always so kind, looks darker than you recall. Stubble shadows his jaw. When he smiles now, it doesn't reach as far.

He said your name—but it sounded foreign, it felt wrong. Why can't you see him clearly anymore?

“My little princess, you’re going to be the greatest ballet dancer the world has ever seen.” You wanted to answer, to hold this moment with him forever; but heavy eyelids won the battle and ultimately dragged you down. As the darkness enveloped you, Dad's hazy face was the last thing on your mind.

Thin curtains block the dreary morning light as you begin your daily ritual of waking up. The city has just woken up below; fog still hangs on the streets of London as you pad barefoot to the kitchen, the hardwood cold under your feet.

Filling the kettle, you set it to boil and retrieve your favorite chipped mug from the shelf. Your hand reaches for a packet of instant grounds—two scoops of it go inside, followed by a splash of cream. After lifting the whistling kettle, you poured in the boiling water slowly before taking a tea spoon to stir. The sound of the drizzle striking the glass was amplified by the apartment's quiet, and a small clink! sound is added each time your spoon meets your porcelain mug.

Lifting the mug, you breathe deep its comforting aroma before taking a careful sip, sighing as warmth spreads through your body. Coffee in hand, you turn to the task of packing your bag, put the essentials: water bottle, warm up shorts, warm up sweater, leg warmers, two pointe shoes, skirts, and a pouch containing deodorant, hair spray, comb, pins , and band aids.

Feeling quite satisfied, you finish your coffee and rinse the mug before leaving it to dry. You go shower and do your skincare routine. Pulling out your clothes drawer, you retrieve the leotard and tights, sliding the familiar fabrics over still-damp limbs.

Before the full-length mirror, you start to stretch. First position – feet turned out, heels together, arms graceful at your sides. Middle split – breathe in, reach for your toes, feel the burn in your thighs. Forward fold, palms flat on the floor, spine lengthening. After feeling warmed up for the day, you slowly got up and grabbed your bag towards the door.

The city was already starting to get busy, with the hustle and bustle of commuters making their way to work. The aroma of freshly baked pastries and brewing coffee wafting through the air. You quickened your footsteps on the cobblestone streets.

When the train door opens, you rush out, clutching your bag tight. Racing up the stairs, you burst through the exit and meet the cold air from the rain. You rubbed your hands against your arms in a desperate attempt to warm yourself. Overhead, heavy clouds hung low. You set off down the sidewalk at a brisk pace.

But, as your building comes into view, you slow down—memories from last night fill your head. It was just here—under the awnings of that little café—that you first took shelter from the rain with him.

Simon. His name whispers through your mind like fog swirling around lampposts. If only the place was still open, maybe you would come in for a sweet warm drink instead of that crowded pub. Must've been nice, you think—it must've been nice to chat between sweets, enveloped in comfort that stretches time to be longer. Maybe he won't be so guarded and you'll get more than a name and a job—a promise to meet tomorrow at breakfast, for example.

Realizing you had completely stopped walking, you shook your head as embarrassment settled on your cheeks. Why do you dwell on such fantasies? Despite his kindness, Simon is just a stranger with just a name, one of many faces in this city that you will never meet again.

With a sigh, you continued your walk and disappeared behind the large doors of the opera.

The heavy doors creaked open as you pushed inside, warmth enveloping your cold body. Long hallway echoed with the conversation of the dancers who had arrived, sitting cross-legged on the cold floor while exchanging a joke or two with each other. You turn into the dressing room. Hanging up your coat, you saw a familiar sight—girls chatting and gossiping as they got ready.

You sat down at one of the dressers, placing your duffel bag at your feet. The sound of a zipper being opened sounded in the air; you bent down and reached for your pouch. Then, you pull out your trusty lip balm before applying it to your lips and gently massaging in the colorless formula.

Just then, a girl came and stopped at the door frame, panting. “It's up! The casting announcement is on the board!”

Squeals of excitement and joy were heard as they rushed to see who got what role. You hurriedly closed your balm, returned it to the pouch before getting up from the chair following the others. They had gathered at the end of the hall, jostling to see a piece of paper stuck to the board.

Air fills your lungs slowly when you inhale. It felt like your hammering heart was going to drop to your stomach as your legs started to swing. The pessimistic side of you says to turn around—why bother? It said tauntingly, you know which role you ended up having. But the hopeful side—the little girl still full of dreams stored somewhere in your ribs—insisted on peering and feeling.

As you stepped into the crowd of dancers, they turned around and some started smiling at you. One of them, Jasmine, approached you after calling your name.

“You did it! You got the role!”

As she hugged you, you scanned down the long list. Your eyes freeze on the main role. The Swan Queen. Beside it is printed in big black letters, your name. The Swan Queen.

You detach yourself from Jasmine's embrace, muttering excuses as you flee down the hall to the toilet. Step by step opening each stall to make sure the space is totally empty, you then lock yourself in one of them and sink into the closed toilet lid. Your mind is racing with a plethora of feelings as your eyes are fixed on the sections of tile plaque.

Joy, pride, disbelief... But underneath it all lies a hollow ache you can't place. Why? Isn't this what you've always wanted, to to become more than just another dancer in the group, to stop at precisely the thirteenth, and somehow take on the role of the Swan Queen—the one who shines the most on stage? Perhaps it's the self-conscious part of you, believing that the director must have made a mistake and mistook you for someone else.

Or perhaps this emptiness was once occupied by the never-ending quest for approval. In truth, that person no longer exists; you have no one left to tell this good news to. The chairs in the crowd were empty.

The cost of keeping everyone at a distance, indeed.

You clutch on your leotard, the fabric wrinkling in your tight grip. Gazing up at the ceiling and inhaling again, you make the decision to push up on unsteady legs and get out of the stall.

The hallway seems louder than before. Every footstep and whisper amplified in your mind, eyes tracking you as you pass—all judging, wondering. A flush creeps up your neck. You speed up your steps, hoping to quickly get out from under their scrutinizing gaze. However, no matter how hard you try, your ears cannot be deafened by the snatches of hushed conversation that follow.

“Can't believe they chose her; she's so soulless on stage.” Your throat constricts, and your hands are clenched into pale fists.

Claudine's piercing stare cuts through the crowd as your eyes meet. She rakes her gaze over you slowly, as if trying to decipher what the director found so special. You lowered your eyes, hurriedly passing to the safety of the empty dressing room. Grabbing your bag with shaky hands, you flee once more to the practice studio, desperate to lose their judgment.

The studio door's knob turned, and as you pushed slightly to get a glimpse inside, the hinges creaked. With the coach and pianist, the director was engaged in a serious discussion. He gives you a quick glance and gestures for you to enter.

“(Y/N), it's so wonderful to have you here. I know this role is in excellent hands with you.” His kind words did little to calm your fraying nerves, but you took the crumbs of his appreciation.

More dancers arrive behind you, their excited chatter filling the hallway. Risking a glance over your shoulder, you catch sight of familiar faces: Jasmine, Sophia, Eloise, long-faced Marie—surely she's not used to not being the main star, and you feel like you've taken her place even though you're not good enough. You swallow hard and turn back, placing your duffel bag in the studio's corner.

The director clapped his hands to get everyone's attention. “Bravo to each of you for earning these coveted roles through your talent and dedication. Now, let us begin our work to bring Tchaikovsky's magic to life for our audiences. Places everyone, we'll start from the beginning!”

Your shoulders rise as you inhale a deep breath. Swan Lake. First time becoming the Swan Queen.

Does the director know that his gaze carries a heavy weight? The more sighs he lets out, the more you suffocate, as if the air has been tainted with butane and you've reached the vertigo stage. His eyes followed your every move, but it was his lips that showed dissatisfaction. Something isn't up to his expectations, and it's not the techniques and poses your ballet teacher has been drilling you in since childhood. You are deficient in something that you are unaware of.

The director calls to a halt, praising and giving notes to the other dancers before turning to you. You brace yourself with a deep breath.

“Your technique is truly flawless as always. But I wonder, could you try injecting just a bit more... feeling?” he began. “You portray her innocence and loneliness beautifully. But what is missing is the glimmer of hope she finds in Prince Siegfried's promise to free her.”

Hope? The girl had lived most of her life as a swan; what silly hope did she still have and seek in a man? As if their hearts have the ability to keep a promise. Swan Lake wouldn't be Swan Lake without the prince declaring his love for another woman and Odette jumping off the cliff from the realization that her dreams had ended in vain. Is it not more fitting that she feels only emptiness—the result of years of loneliness leeching any warmth or longing from her soul?

You tell yourself that, if not merely to cover up your poor performance. The director is many years older than you and has directed and seen many ballets throughout his life. If anyone knows how to bring a character to life, it's him.

It begs the question, though, of whether a cursed being like her seems capable of wishing for miracles or fairy tale things like love. Can a withered flower, beaten down by countless rains, still hold the memory of the sun in its crumpled petals?

“I'll do better.” You said.

The director gives a pitying smile; you felt small beneath him. “Good.” Then raising his voice, “Well done everyone today. Let's call it a day and start again tomorrow fresh!"

Snatching up your bag, you rush towards the exit before anyone can speak to you. With your head down, you push through the doors and into the night. Breathing in trembling, you let your legs carry you down the well-known pavement. The sights and sounds of bustling London blur around you.

You shouldn't have believed that girl. You shouldn't have given that dreamy girl the chance to lead a version of herself that has grown far beyond her—because you know her judgment means nothing, just a limited view of the world through rose-tinted glasses. She is that way because a liar once said that she would make a great ballet dancer, and she stuck to it like a devoted disciple to the words of her God.

It was stupid, perhaps a misplaced self-confidence. With your every step, the negative voices in your mind grow louder, jeering relentlessly at your foolishness. This was a mistake from the start. As if you could ever do Odette justice. Best tell him you're stepping down; let Claudine or Marie have the role they deserve. Your heart is heavy, weighing you down to the floor. 

You almost pass by without noticing, but there, through the haze, glows the warm orange light of that pub. The one Simon and you ducked into that stormy night, where you shared pleasantries over pints of bitter. As you watch the door open and close for the newcomers, you halt.

You're not sure which Satan incited. But when you push open the pub door, warmth immediately envelopes you, scents of ale and smoke mingling with the bustle of chatter. A lively folk tune played on the sound system as patrons laughed together in the booths and around the bar. Steeling yourself, you approached awkwardly.

The bartender looked up, his eyes widening briefly before his lips curved into a flirtatious smile. "Well hello gorgeous, what can I get for ya?"

Warmth floods your cheeks and you shift from foot to foot. “Um, do you have anything non-alcoholic?” You said, awkward voice breaking easily. Why did you come in here again?

He raised an eyebrow but maintained a friendly smile. “Sure do, love. Give me a mo.” As he turns around to prepare your drink, you glance around helplessly.

Faces blurred in the dim light—all engaged in lively conversation. You sit alone at the bar like you're waiting for a friend while watching everyone else meet theirs. A feeling of loneliness overtakes you – what were you thinking coming here?

Bartender returns, sliding your drink across with a wink. “On the house. Let me know if you need anything else, yeah?”

Giving a mumbled thanks, you take a sip acting busy. As you sit alone nursing your drink, you believe you understand why. Deep down, beneath all the self-doubt and shame, is a glimmer of truth you loath to admit – you desperately seek companionship, if only for a moment.

And the only person close enough for you to consider a friend is a masked stranger you will never see again. That's pathetic; you're pathetic. Clinging to the irrational part to watch Simon walk through that door. He claims he's a regular here—his “I'm here often enough” seems to make you hold out for the chance of running into him again.

Twenty minutes pass in a haze, and Simon still hasn't appeared. Maybe he's not a regular after all. You finally glance at your phone—it's time for your usual subway.

Signaling the bartender, you place some cash on the bar as a tip. “Thanks again,” you murmur, then gather your coat and slip out into the chill night.

“Sorry,” you mumble when you bump into a figure about to enter.

“No worries, love,” a British-accented voice replies smoothly, and you glance up, thinking it's someone. A stranger—tall, broad shoulders, but not Simon. Perfectly coiffed hair and skin as smooth as porcelain. He shot a charming smile at you. “Off somewhere?”

Instantly on alert, your eyes start looking for a way to get away from him. “Just heading home, thanks.”

Making a sidestep, his arms extended to block your path. Your mind's alarm goes off. His gaze burned as it swept over you, lingering in places it had no right to be before he licked his lips. You felt a cold sweat run down your back.

“Don't be like that, darling. I just want to chat. Buy you a drink, maybe?” His smile grows, and the sick glint in his eyes shows how much it amuses him to see you trembling.

“Sorry, I—”

“I believe the lady said she’s not interested, mate.”

A gruff, familiar voice cuts through the haze. You whip your head around to see Simon standing there. His face is half obscured by his black mask, but you'll recognize that steel gaze everywhere. For some reason, your heart gradually calms down in your ribs.

“And who the fuck are you?” the other asked angrily, puffing up his chest. A daring move, you think. His too-tight t-shirt reveals his consistent gym muscles, but if Simon is his opponent, you can be sure he's no match.

“Just not a fan of creeps harassing women. Now do yourself a favor and fuck off before I make you.” Simon threatened.

The color drains from the guy's face when he sees Simon's seriousness. He walked away, swallowing his wounded pride with a huff. The pressure recedes from your rigid frame as you watch the figure leave before turning to Simon.

"You hurt at all?" he asked, doing a scan of you to check for himself.

You shake your head, then manage a shaky “No, I'm fine. Thank you.”

Simon looked at you, then looked behind you towards the pub. When he turns back to you, his eyebrows raise slightly questioningly.

“You were in there your own?”

The warmth from his question traveled across your cheeks, striking a contrast with the night breeze. You didn't dare to meet his eyes, choosing to settle on your shoes instead. Despite having come here just to meet him, feeling under his judgment is like getting a shot of adrenaline into your legs—so much so that you want to run to get away from him.

“I, um…” Words fail you beneath your embarrassment.

How pathetic you must look—a lone girl nursing a drink with no companions, seeking solace in other people's conversations. You can't, however, just reveal your total lack of friends. Your mind searched frantically for a convincing reason.

“Just… needed to clear my head after a long day of practice. Thought the atmosphere might help.”

Even to your own ears, the lie falls flat. You didn't know if Simon noticed. Though you're pitiful, he doesn't furrow his brow or look at you that way. He asks no questions at all, not even about poor attempts at lying, and he doesn't press people on matters they would rather leave unsaid. Simon doesn't pry; you think that's his good quality.

Simon looked up at the dark sky instead. “Getting late, this is. I'll walk you to the tube.” He nodded, gesturing down the empty sidewalk.

Thick clouds rolled low. The two of you make your way towards the subway station, passing one by one the buildings constructed from buff-colored brick. Simon is striding beside you, his long legs eating up the pavement with ease. Secretly, you steal glances at his broad figure against the lamplight. Your eyes follow the line of his shoulders under his leather jacket—the way it molds into muscular arms.

This is different from your first meeting. There's no need now for nervous small talk to fill the quiet; you're not much of a talker, and Simon also finds more peace in silence.

Simon's presence feels more companionable than awkward. Warmth bloomed in your ribs as your lips curled into a small smile before it disappeared again. You both walk in wordless sync before you become bored and break it.

“I didn't really expect to see you again.”

Simon glances down at you, his brows quirking questioningly. Did you sound ungrateful? You rush to explain. “I mean, it was all like a chance thing, running into each other like that. Figured it was just... a one-time thing, you know?”

He thought about your words for a moment. “Funny how things work out sometimes.”

Up ahead, the glow of the station sign begins to appear. You bit the inside of your cheek as you slowly slowed down your pace, but you made sure it was unnoticeable. Your journey's end draws near, but you hope this togetherness can last longer.

Summoning your courage, you try, “Were you meeting someone at the pub? Before…” Your words trail off, but he seems to understand.

“Nah, wasn't meeting anyone,” he said casually. “Just fancied a drink, is all.”

You nodded, acting satisfied, but actually feeling a little disappointed. It seemed that he was in fact a frequent visitor, coming and going on any given evening; it was just for a drink, like before he met you. Meanwhile, you cling to the prospect of another chance to meet like a lifeline. As the station came into full view, your eyes fell, brewing more embarrassment and desperation in your stomach. Maybe he has someone waiting for him. What were you thinking, letting yourself hope?

Yet, though small, the rebellious part of you refuses to let this end.

"What do you usually drink?" You ask again, grasping for any excuse to extend your time, no matter how little.

“Bourbon,” he replied gruffly. “Kentucky, usually. Good drop.”

Twenty-three years old, but this discussion is still foreign territory for you. Your fingers can count the few times you've tasted alcohol—each occasion marred by your mother's voice in your head, warning of its evil. It's rather comical, considering how it once became her loyal companion for several years—that damned thing became the only thing she looked for after coming home from work and gulping it down flat on the living room sofa to dull her broken heart. You cannot yet judge her as a hypocrite or someone who has learned from her mistakes. As if a single glass would transform you into some fallen woman. It was always all or nothing with her; there was no concept of moderation.

Such inhibitions are not for Simon, though. A man of the world who has seen and done things that you could scarcely fathom. For him, a pint after work is as regular as taking a breath.

All too soon, you reach the stairs leading down to the station entrance. Your feet stopped when he did. Turning your body to face him, you gathered your courage and looked up. His eyes meet yours, and you see him about to open his mouth behind his surgical mask. No, you can't bear to hear that final goodbye.

“Do you..” You started. “Like anything else to drink, besides bourbon? I probably have… something at my place.”

There was a change in his gaze before he returned to his usual guarded gaze. Your cheeks screamed on fire at the implication that you didn't quite mean to make. Such an invitation should be the last thing a girl like you offers to a stranger she's only met twice, particularly at this hour. To your defense, though, he's now an acquaintance, and desperation influences people to do the unthinkable. The nights are getting colder and your lonely apartment won't do.

It seems that your question surprised him too. Simon scanned your face carefully before releasing the tension.

“Tea.”

When Simon replies with a single gruff word, you can't help but smile, ducking your head to hide it behind loose tendrils of hair. Lifting your eyes once more, you find him staring at you. Two people engaging in a silent game of deciphering, each trying to unravel the secrets of the other piece by piece.

“Tea,” you repeat softly, as if savoring the taste of the word.

Fingers twisting together, you steel your nerves before turning toward the stairs to lead the way down. You hear his footsteps fall solidly behind you. Not daring to look back out of fear that this dream will shatter, you mentally urge your feet faster.

At the platform's edge, mist curls between the rails like grasping fingers. Simon was standing right next to you. Slowly, the lights of an approaching train emerge, growing brighter by the second. With a weary hiss, the sliding doors open in front of you in welcome. You turned to Simon, then stepped aboard, and he followed, as you already knew.

SUPPORT ME THROUGH KO-FI! CHECK MY WRITING COMMISSION. SHARE YOUR THOUGHTS HERE.

[whatudowhennooneseesyou]

Can a request more about Felix dominant side? I thinks he hides a lot of potential to be a Dom, he would be perfect for for a late bloomer, he seems very warm,but also controlling if he wants to

🥺

𝘍𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘹 𝘓𝘦𝘦 𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘏𝘪𝘴 𝘋𝘰𝘮 𝘌𝘯𝘦𝘳𝘨𝘺:

I feel like my warnings are getting so repetitive but I gotta include it in every post.

I'm using astrology so nothing I say is accurate or confirmed- it's completely theoretical.

Anyway- let's go!!

Out of the members of Stray Kids- I would honestly say Felix isn't one of the best members for a late bloomer relationship BECAUSE of his overthinking tendencies with all his Virgo placements.

He might tend to think TOO hard about being such a good boyfriend and giving you the best late bloomer experience that he'll probably forget to just live in the moment.

His Aries Moon also indicates impatience and he might want to try too many things too quickly and it might get overwhelming.

One of the best traits of having a Libra Venus is they value equality in the relationship and Felix might feel like he has TOO much power in the relationship with his experience and you're lack of experience.

But to end this on a positive level, I think no matter what...Felix is going to try his absolute best to be the best ever 'first ever' boyfriend for you.

Now for his dom energy- yes while I think Felix is one of the more 'submissive' members of Stray Kids- I don't think he's 90% submissive and he's more of a balanced switch than what people realise.

This will be shorter than Ateez readings b/c I don't have Felix's Rising Sign so I can't analyse his house placements but his Aries Moon/Leo Mars are great placements to indicate he has 'dom' energy.

I feel his dominant energy would come out when he's pushed hard enough-like if he's jealous of somebody flirting with you or his masculinity feels challenged in a way.

His voice will get deeper, his eyes will darken and become more stern and his grip against you might be more tight.

'I'm not worried about you getting attention sweetie, I'm worried about the way he looks at you'.

I've seen him on-stage and when he's performing- he has a very powerful and 'manly' energy which juxtaposes against the 'fairy' concept he's confined to with group dynamics.

Both Felix Lee and Han Jisung have a Leo Mars and men with a Leo Mars typically love heated-in the moment type of sex and are visual people.

And yeah- as a dom with a Libra Mercury...you best believe he'll talk you through it.

Would watch you put mascara on in the mirror and then he'll randomly think about how pretty you'd look with his cock in your mouth and mascara running down your cheeks.

'You look so pretty as you gag on my cock sweetheart, want to paint your face and see your mouth covered in me'.

Lipstick smeared, stockings ripped, bra straps falling, buttons torn are some of the things he'd find so sexy- having a Leo Mars means he can be quite primal in the bedroom.

But it would take him a lot of teasing or jealousy to get to that unhinged level of dominance- and it would take A LOT of time (and rounds) for him to break out of it.

It's why I love Felix with black hair SAUR MUCH!!! because I think it brings out his dominant energy and doesn't confine him to 'baby subby pixie Felix' persona.

I also just want to appreciate the Taste fancam and this performance b/c I think this fit and song was the key for Felix stans to think-

Oh shit- He could be a dom.

[ladykettlechips]

Despite what I wrote in my update post, some of my writing mojo has started to return! It's not back completely, but I am currently working on something based on what I think might happen after the scene in s3 where Anthony and Kate talk to Colin about marriage and how it takes work (though Anthony certainly thinks their marriage is easy and it's so damn cute how sulky he gets!

It isn't perfect, but here's a snippet if you want to have read~

-----

“So you think our marriage is imperfect?”

Stilling her hand, the task of unpinning her hair soon forgotten, Kate huffed out a sigh and turned to look at her husband. There in the doorway he stood, chest puffed out with unwavering pride, though his eyes suggested otherwise; somewhere, etched within the gaze he laid upon his wife, there was a flicker of hurt, of a need to understand.

Gripping the back of her chair tight, Kate quelled the desire to pull her lower lip between her teeth.

“Jaa nu, I simply wanted to—”

“That you find it hard work?”

Kate rolled her eyes. “You are certainly hard work, at times,” she muttered, mostly to herself, and moved to face her dresser, returning to the task of unpinning her hair.

Doing her best to ignore the tiresome man behind her, Kate tried to ignore the thrill that skittered over her skin when she heard Anthony step into the room. She could not still the tremble of her fingers, however, when she took out three more pins, each thick coil of hair growing heavier against her back while the door clicked shut. The scrape of a key turning in its lock seemed faint to her ears, yet it still sent an earnest ripple down her spine.

Swallowing thickly, Kate’s eyes turned downcast when the heavy thud of her husband’s footsteps only grew closer, his silence almost deafening before he finally halted mere inches away from her.

She felt the weight of his hands first, heavy on the back of her chair. Then there was the tickle of his breath against her neck, the gentle brush of his nose upon her skin before he inhaled, pulling from within a low, deep groan. Kate could not help but moan at the sound, her head falling to her shoulder to allow Anthony better access, to take her in like he always did. Her eyelids fluttering closed, Kate leaned back, the gentle caress of her husband so achingly close...

“Tell me, wife,” Anthony began, his voice warm and dangerously low against her ear. “Is our marriage truly so difficult that you must voice such concerns to my brother?”

Kate blinked, looking into the vanity mirror to see her husband’s face. Despite his face being so close to hers, his lips barely pressed against her neck and those eyes so dark even in the candlelight, he seemed quite stern.

“You do dwell on such trivial matters,” she sighed heavily and, with a gentle shake of her head, turned slightly towards Anthony until her cheek was pressed against his, the light scratch of his stubble comforting. “I had simply meant to console him, Anthony. Colin is understandably nervous and it is my belief that, while your parents marriage and our own have been happy ones, it is not always the fairy tale that we have painted it to be.”

“So you find our marriage trivial?”

An exasperated noise came from Kate’s lips and, turning herself to face her husband, placed one hand over his while the other found its way into his hair, her nails scratching soothingly against his scalp.

“Why must you be so… so…”

“Exasperating? Much like our marriage?”

Kate fought the urge to slap him for such cheek. Instead she held his gaze, her eyes narrowing at Anthony’s impertinence.

“Disagreeable, Anthony,” she ground out, the corners of her mouth quickly turning downwards. “You must know that I simply wanted to inform our brother that effort must be made to create a harmonious marriage, one that is not simply based on passion, but also filled with compromise.” Pausing, Kate squeezed his hand beneath hers and said, almost earnestly “A marriage built on a foundation of love, much like our own.”

Her hand slid from Anthony’s hair to cup his jaw, her thumb stroking soothing circles against his cheek. Leaning into her touch, Anthony let out a sigh of his own, his gaze not once leaving Kate’s. Then, the corners of his lips began to curve upwards, sparks of gold dancing in his eyes in the low candlelight.

“So you wish to compromise me, Viscountess?” His voice was teasing and light, his lips barely a breath away from hers. “Even though I can be quite… disagreeable.”

Unable to suppress the shudder that wracked through her body, Kate began to nod, only to shake her head when she felt the slide of Anthony’s palm against her arm.

“Yes,” she whispered, beginning to feel herself lean forward as Anthony’s hand slipped beneath her hair to cup the back of her neck. “No. I mean... What I meant to say is…"

-----

I wanted some bickering to follow that scene, so here it is... 👀 TEEHEE!

[dfortrafalgar]

I'm Losing You

Having a family isn't always as easy as fairy tales make it seem.

Warnings: Read chapter 1 for warnings.

Taglist: @phsycochan | @mirillua | @augustanna | @chaixsherlock

Chapter 10

[Prev] [Next]

Law might have run a red light on his drive back to your apartment.  Could you blame him?  There was no one on the road anyway, not at 2:00 in the morning.  He hoped you hadn’t stayed up for him, but at the same time he wanted nothing more than to enter his home, see you in the living room, and scoop you into his arms.  He had been so busy at the hospital that he couldn’t remember seeing you stand up since you left the emergency room, so the fact that you, not Shachi or Penguin, but you, called him earlier made his weary heart swell with hope and adoration.

He yanked the parking brake of his car upward and swiftly switched off the ignition, pulling his keys out, grabbing his bag, and practically sprinting across the dark parking lot to your building’s entrance.  He input his apartment code so fast his hands were shaking, bursting through the door and climbing the stairs skipping every other step as he ascended.  His heart was racing.  If he was in any worse shape, he might need a triple bypass.  His hands continued trembling as he stuck his house key into the lock, twisting it and pushing the heavy door open to finally enter your apartment.

His golden eyes lit up.

You were still awake, sitting on the couch with Bepo who was rolled over with his belly exposed.  You were munching on a chocolate chip cookie while you watched a rerun of an old science show on the television.  The force of Law entering the apartment with an anxious gusto made you jump in surprise, but you quickly smiled upon seeing your husband.

“Did you run up the stairs?” you asked, taking in his heaving chest and parted lips as he tried desperately to intake as much oxygen as he could.

Law simply dropped his bag, shed his coat, and rapidly paced towards you, pulling you off the couch by your hands and wrapping his arms around you.  He buried his head in your neck, squeezing his eyes closed, afraid that if he opened them he’d see you back in bed, refusing to look at him.  You kept your mouth shut at his actions, choosing instead to loop your own arms around his shoulders, squeezing him as tight as you could as you breathed in the sterile hospital odor from his clothes.

“I’m sorry I’ve been so distant,” you mumbled, your words muffled in the cotton of his clothing.

He immediately shook his head, his wispy black strands tickling the skin of your neck.  “Never apologize.  Never.”

You yelped as Law’s body lurched, his arms swooping down to scoop you into his arms, just like he did when you were his bride, to carry you back to the couch and flop down, placing you in his lap.  The force startled Bepo, who grunted before falling back into a content pseudo-slumber.  You kept your hands looped around Law’s neck as you leaned into his chest.

“I’m really happy you’re up…” he whispered.

You simply hummed.  “Me too.”

The two of you sat in silence for what easily could have been an eternity, the sounds from the television turning into monotonous background garble as your breaths synced up to his.  Law adored moments like this.  No responsibilities, no expectations, no distractions.  Just him and his wife.  You and your husband.

However, he still felt like he had to speak.  “So, about Friday…”

You visibly tensed in his lap.  “About Friday…”

“I have the day off, so I can go with you.”

You picked your head up, your eyes shining.  “Really?!”

Law nodded.  “Yup.”  He heavily debated bringing to light the conversation he had had with Robin in the emergency room but decided against informing you, assuming that this aforementioned ‘diagnostic consultation’ would address exactly that.  “I’ll be there with you through the entire… thing.”  He almost said the word ‘ordeal,’ but realized that single word probably let on more than he intended.

You didn’t seem to notice, or simply didn’t care, content with the mere fact that Law would be able to join you.  “Thank goodness… I’m so happy…”  You dropped your head back onto his shoulder.  “I’ve been so nervous since she called me this morning.”

“Did she tell you anything over the phone?” he asked, rubbing your back, leaving warm trails of pleasant shocks in the wake of his hand.

“No, she simply said she was hoping to see me as soon as possible.  She wanted to discuss everything face-to-face, which I understand,” you muttered back.  “Still makes me really nervous though.  I’m afraid she’s going to tell me that I’m completely infertile, or something.”

Law sucked in a shaky breath.  “Hopefully not.”  He wished more than anything that he had the emotional capacity to say anything else, anything more reassuring or comforting, but despite the years he dated you, and even after marrying you, he still had his frequent bouts of complete emotional constipation.  How you continued to put up with him, he feared he would never completely comprehend.

“Anyway,” you lifted your head.  “Shachi and Penguin were here when she called.  Penguin got so nervous that he started baking.”  You gestured with your thumb to the kitchen counter.

Law’s eyes darted in the direction you pointed.  Five large plastic food storage containers sat stacked one on top of the other, each filled to the brim with chocolate chip cookies.  The entire stack was easily almost three feet tall.  The Leaning Tower of Tupperware.  Law groaned.  “What in the world…”

You laughed, the sound seeming so foreign recently.  “We’re completely out of flour and baking soda now, but we should also have enough cookies to last us a lifetime.”

Law’s lips quirked into a small smirk.  “I swear, you can’t take Penguin anywhere.”  He held you closer as you giggled into his chest.

“Well, I personally figured you could bring one or two of them with you to the hospital.  Leave them in the break room with a little note for the rest of the staff to pick at when they’re on break.  Don’t you think that would be sweet?”  You grinned.

Leave it to you to think of the most generous solution to the mountain of cookies left in your kitchen.  Law smiled, his hand trailing over the back of your head.  “That sounds like a great idea.”

—

The Friday of your appointment had sprung up on the two of you.  You sat in the passenger seat of Law’s car, your heart hammering in your ribcage and your fingers anxiously picking at your cuticles as your mind raced with worry over what would be discussed at your appointment.  The repetitive alternative rock music playing through the radio’s speakers was interrupted with an hourly traffic report, and Law took that moment to slide his free hand over to your thigh, giving you a reassuring squeeze.  Neither of you spoke a single word, the only noise being the rumbling of his engine and the monotonous tone of the traffic report.

When you exited the car in the parking lot of the clinic, you immediately paced to Law’s side, grabbing his pinky finger with your own.  

“Something to ground me,” you stated plainly.

At your words, Law grabbed your whole hand in his, lacing your fingers together.  “Don’t float away from me, now.”

Time went by in a blur as you checked in with the receptionist, sat impatiently in the waiting room, and blindly followed the nurse into the patient hallway with Law close on your heels.  You followed her into the examination room where she assessed your blood pressure like a typical appointment, before writing a few notes on her clipboard and leaving you and Law to wait for Robin.

You were sitting on the small, elevated bed with your legs dangling off the end, your perspiring hands quickly causing small wet blotches to form on the sterile paper that covered the cold vinyl.  The silence was suffocating.  You felt like you were back in your bathroom sitting on the closed toilet lid anxiously waiting for that negative pregnancy result.  Law was sitting in a plastic chair across the small room for you, and he slouched lower in the seat to extend his leg out and bat the bottom of your shoe with the toe of his own.  The action caused you to yank your eyes upward to face him, and he graced you with that warm smile you had fallen in love with all those years ago.

“You see anxious patients like this all the time,” you mumbled.  “Have you ever learned any ways to make them feel better?”

Law rested one of his elbows on the narrow arm rest of his chair, dropping his cheek to rest on his tattooed fingers.  “Sure I have, but I can’t say I’m too good at it.  But… you’re not my patient, you’re my wife.”

A very nervous chuckle blubbered from your lungs.  “I guess that would make a difference, huh?”

Law’s lips formed a very faint grin.  “It makes a hell of a difference.  I can’t play footsies with my patients.”  He punctuated his sentence with another knock into your foot.

You couldn’t resist laughing.  Law was often so serious and stoic, intimidating strangers with his deadpan gaze and unwavering, permanent scowl, but he became a completely different person with you.  In the years you had been together, he had morphed into a chronically exhausted undergraduate student who could barely force a dry grin in your direction into a compassionate, tender, loving husband.  You couldn’t argue that he was still a bit lacking in the empathy department, but his mere presence in any room brought you a sense of ease and comfort that you had never experienced in your life.  And goodness, you loved him for that.

The sound of the door to the exam room opening snapped you out of your dreamy thoughts.  Your heart regained its anxious palpitations as Robin entered with her usual calm demeanor.  Something in her eyes seemed… off, however.

“‘Morning, you two, how has the week been treating you?” she asked as she sat down on her stool, placing her laptop and small stack of stapled paperwork on the room’s counter.

Law tossed a look at you.  You tossed a look back at him.

“Could be better,” you uttered for the both of you.

Robin simply hummed.  It wasn’t rocket science to figure it out.  She was there when it happened, after all.

“I’m not going to beat around the bush here, I would like to jump right into things.”  She pulled up a few images on her laptop before grabbing the device and rolling in her stool to be seated in front of you, turning the computer and placing it in her lap.  The screen displayed your ultrasound images from almost a month ago.  “I would like to bring your attention to these labeled areas.”

Robin’s finger indicated each area she wanted you to address.  Law had already seen the images, and simply kept his focus trained on every slight change of your facial expression.  The doctor explained to you what she had already explained to him, and watching the worry grow in your eyes made his chest sink.

“We would need to perform a minimally invasive procedure to make sure, but I believe you might have endometriosis just based on your ultrasound scans.  Can I ask you a few questions about your menstruation history?”  She listened patiently and jotted down notes on her lap as you spoke about when you got your first period, how long on average they would last, how much bleeding, the average level of pain, or any other potential hormonal symptoms.

Law was in awe at Robin’s laser-focused demeanor with the patient.  Just as he was always in tune with matters of the cardiothoracic variety, Robin absorbed all of your history like a dry sponge.  She successfully empathized with your issues, her eyes giving away the even mix of intrigue, concern, and understanding as you described your ailments to her.

After you finished your explanation, Robin returned her laptop to the counter and swiveled to face both you and Law.  She crossed one leg over the other and clasped her hands above her knee.  “Mrs. Trafalgar, I’d like to discuss the benefits of performing a laparoscopy to rule out or confirm endometriosis, based on both your ultrasounds and your description just now.”

Your eyes darted between her stern blue ones and your husband’s pointed gold ones.  “I’m listening,” was all you could blurt out.

“The procedure would be incredibly quick.  You’d be under general anesthesia, so you won’t feel a thing.  We would make a very small incision in your abdomen, a little below your belly button.  A thin camera would then be inserted to examine the inside of your abdomen, and would allow us to see any potential endometrial tissue that has grown outside of your uterus.”  She paused to let you absorb the information.

“What would happen if you found tissue?” you nervously questioned.

“Depending on the severity, we would most likely advise a similar surgery to actually remove the visible tissue with a couple extra incisions, but again, nothing major.  The healing time would be incredibly quick in comparison to more invasive procedures,” she explained.  “I personally think this would be the best option for you, considering you and your husband are still interested in having children.  I want to try my best to give you the best chance of success in doing so, but that also involves ruling out potential reasons that you suffered a miscarriage.”

You bit your lip, but you absolutely appreciated her openness and honesty.  “If I do have this… would I still be able to get pregnant?”

Robin nodded swiftly.  “Absolutely.  Many women with endometriosis are able to have successful pregnancies, especially after treatment.  However, I would be remiss to inform you that, since you have had one miscarriage, your chances of having another have slightly increased.  I know this is very hard to hear, but I want you to understand that.”

Your eyes glanced back toward Law who was already gazing at your face, almost as if he was trying to read your mind.  You nodded your own head and turned your attention back to Robin.  “If that’s what you think is best, then I would like to go for it.”

Your doctor grinned, a friendly smile that warmed your spirit as your anxiety-ridden mind whirled with every possible circumstance.  Her comforting, understanding instinct was exactly what you needed to help you through this process.

“I’d be more than happy to set up your initial appointment now, if that is something that interests you,” she added.  “I can directly send a referral to the surgical outpatient clinic which is right down the road from here.”

You gave another affirmative nod.  “Yes, that would be wonderful.”

Robin quickly got to work opening your patient portal on her laptop.  While she typed, she began speaking once more.  “Full transparency, but I also have endometriosis.  My husband and I decided against having kids, but that was for completely different reasons.”

You smiled.  “Who is your husband?”

“I doubt you’d have met him, he works at the fertility clinic nearby!”  She laughed at the mere image of her own husband.  “He’s a pretty strange man, I will admit.”

Law blanked.  “Wait… is your husband–”

“Doctor Franky?” she finished his question for him.  “Yup, that’s him!”  She immediately turned her attention back to you, informing you of the date and time of your laparoscopic referral, leaving Law to sit back in his seat and ponder over the fact that your gynecologist's husband was the man who got a glimpse of Law’s sperm.

[ser-rctslcyer]

Pairing: Steven Grant x GN! Reader  Word Count: 1.1k Synopsis: It’s snowing and as usual Steven somehow ends up covered in it. However, this time he doesn’t have to deal with it alone.  Warnings: Established Relationship, Domestic Fluff, Humor, Idiots in Love A/N: I’ve deeply missed writing about this show so here we go!

Snow poured softly down from the dark sky, piling up on the fluffy layer stuck to the ground. 

From the window you could see people rushing, trying to return home to their warm beds and hot food. You were glad to have left at your normal time, making it home before the weather had begun to get worse. Though you had worried for when your partners would get home as it was getting later and later; you wished his boss would’ve let him off early like he asked. 

After putting your stuff up and switching out of your day clothes; you fixed yourself some dinner as you turned the TV. on. Eyes stuck on the screen in front of you as your ears waited for the familiar sound of the door. The later it got, the more tempted to pick up your phone when the lock clicked. 

“Gods, it's fucking cold,” Steven whined; the shuts with an echoing force. You set your empty bowl down quickly, and you skyrocket out of your chair to embrace your partner.

“Hey Steven,” you pause your greeting; catching the upset look on his face and the silky white bits that covered his hair and shoulders. “Oh, what happened to you?”

“I was about to walk into the building, but of course, I was fumbling to get keys and didn’t notice how low the snow was dripping,” he grumbled, tugging at the remaining bits of snow from his hair and the scarf Layla had made them.  

“By the time I opened it, I already caught a bucket’s worth of snow,” he pouted, rubbing his hands together; desperate to generate any heat from them. 

“Aw, I’m sorry hon.,” you walked closer, clasping your hands around his to help warm them up.

“I was doing so well too,” his frown grew a little larger; his tired eyes looked more and more miserable. 

“I know, it happens to the best of us, sweetheart. Mother nature can be quite a fierce one.”

“I wish she wouldn’t.”

“Y’know, you kind of look like a little snow fairy, if that helps,” you add; earning a small snort for Steven. 

“I don't like being a snow fairy if it’s like this,” he answered, a little less gloomy than before. 

“C’mon, you guys practically dress like one to fight crime,” you jab, earning a hearty chuckle from him. 

“Marc says it’s not our choice,” he gently squeezes your hands.

“So then he agrees?” you raise you eyebrow and he shakes his head/

“He argues more like a ‘snow devil’ to our enemies.”

“Probably, but to me, you guys are my snow fairies,” you tease again, happy to see a genuine smile on his face. He only hums in response, swaying a small bit, a little flustered by the nickname. You take this moment to pull him closer, hugging him for the first time since he’s been home. Steven is quick to reciprocate, hugging you tight as you both stand there for a second. 

“Would you like a nice warm shower to feel better? I’ll make sure it stays warm in here so you don’t freeze to death for a second time,” you suggested, rubbing the lower middle part of his back soothingly. 

“Thank you, love,” he steals a cold kiss before properly putting away his bag and hanging his jacket. You take the time to turn up the heat, grabbing one of the few fluffy towels, and setting it in the bathroom. While there, you turned on the hot water, letting it heat to the temperature it was supposed to be. 

“All yours,” you move, to shift past him but he cups your face and kisses you. His lips are warmer than they were before 

“Thank you, again,” his eyes beam as Steven gives his signature goofy grin, before slinking into the bathroom. 

You bite your lip, your heart fluttering as you set yourself on the bed; a delighted grin on your face. The shower turns on and you can hear albeit very muffled the sigh of relief that leaves Steven. He sings a little cheer, at which you giggle before he continues the rest of his shower. The bed feels even softer than ever during this season, and you waste no time getting under the covers to finish off the rest of your wait. 

“Alright, I’m all set,” he glowed, much happier being able to feel fingers and the warmth from his clothes. 

“Hurry up and get under here before I take all the covers,” you jokingly tug them over your shoulders; watching Steven scramble to get into bed with you. He grabbed the covers and you let him take some of them until you were both comfortable enough. Steven reached over to the nightstand to grab his book, the one he’s been studying up on since the beginning of this week. You dropped your head to his shoulder so you could read as well, even though you’ve only picked up on parts he’s read to you. 

“Come closer,” Steven lifted up his arm, his hand beckoning you closer. You obliged him, of course, tucking yourself underneath his arm, and his hand resting on your hip.

“This better?”

“Absolutely,” he answered, kissing the top of your head. “So, much better than the cold,” he hummed as you grinned at him. 

“Glad I could help, sweetheart,” you kissed the underside of his jaw, catching his quiet sigh as he turned the page. 

As much as you wanted to enjoy the read with him, your body began to settle. The fight to keep your eyes open was useless, as they shut after the third long blink. The heat from him engulfed you; the darkness felt like a soft blanket, keeping you content and safe. The normal hum of the a.c. blurred into the background as you found yourself drifting away until you felt a small nudge. 

“Sleepy?” his voice was soft, enough so that if you had been any closer to sleep you probably wouldn’t have heard him. 

“You’re warm,” you mumbled surly, with your eyes still closed, “feels nice.” He chuckles, gently rubbing your shoulder before placing his book on top of the nightstand. He pulls you closer as he lays down fully, letting you rest on top of him. Tender hands rub your back, fingers sweetly tracing, luring you to sleep. His soothing was the added cherry on top, as you yawned, finally giving into the night. 

“Goodnight, snow fairy,” you manage to mumble out, as your mind floats away; your thoughts fading into the delicate embrace. Steven quietly beams at the name, delicately sketching a little heart over your back and rubbing over that area until you were fast asleep. 

“Goodnight, my love,” he grins, kissing the top of your head, closing his eyes, and dreaming of you both in the fluffy white snow.

[staytiny-dreams]

beneath the christmas lights (c.sb x reader)

pairing: choi soobin x gn! reader

genre: non!idol au, freshly established relationship, seasonal fluff

warnings: zero, reader has a broken home, but it's not detailed, choi soobin being cute, angst if you squint (barely), sooo fluffy

wc: 1.8k

note: i don't like christmas fics, but we visited christmas lights at sunset while i was in my soobin feels so this was born. sorry if the formatting is weird this is the first time i've done this on my laptop. stay safe these holidays everyone

christmas time is confusing. for some, it is a joyous time of year filled with love and presents, decorations, family and friends. for others it is just a reminder of what they’re missing, whether it be family, friends or even money.

for you, christmas serves as a reminder of what you once had, and of what you’ve lost. 

yelling echoes through the bottom story of your house, your step mother’s shrieks piercing any peace you might’ve had as your father picks another fight.

sighing, you grip your headphones tight around your ears, knuckles tense with the force of your grip and with a flick of your thumb, the volume of the music surrounding you is bumped up.

you almost don’t hear it, but the vibrations of your phone against your thigh drags your attention down to your lap.

bin: (y/n)

before you can even type out a response another message comes through.

bin: i’m outside

you frown down at your screen, brows scrunching together. rather than sending through the question marks you’re tempted to, you pull your headphones off and place them gently on the keyboard of your laptop.

with your headphones gone you feel an immediate wave of cold wash over you. standing alone in your bedroom, you can once again hear the persisting argument occurring one floor down. despite the blue light from your laptop, the warm light from the fairy lights strung up around the room and the barely setting sun, you feel shrouded in darkness.

with familiar ease, you round your bed and approach the window, sheer curtains already having been pulled back.

sitting on your verge, two wheels on the curb and lights shining, is soobin’s car. through the tint on his windows you can faintly make out soobin, smiling up at you, giving you a shy wave.

y/n: ???

you replay your last few conversations with him in your head, trying to remember if you’d made any plans with him you may have forgotten about, but nothing comes to mind.

it’s christmas eve, shouldn’t he be with his family?

another vibration and a small chime sounds, effectively bringing your focus back to your messages with the boy in your front yard.

bin: just come down

with a huff loud enough to hide your smile, you slide on your sneakers, slip out of your bedroom and down the stairs.

while your parents are wrapped up in picking each other apart, it’s easy to pass by them, no questions asked, grabbing your house keys from the hook in the kitchen and quietly exiting through the front door.

“what are you doing here?” you ask as soon as the car door has been closed behind you.

“do you trust me?” is all he says and you let out a snort, something somewhere between a scoff and a laugh.

“absolutely not.” 

he mumbles an offended ‘okay’ that you can only just catch while he is turned away from you, rummaging around in the backseat. you roll your eyes affectionately at his response and simply face forward.

the sun has properly begun its descent now, yellow and pink clouds are scattered across the darkening sky. you find your chest tightening at the pretty sight and with a start you realise the feeling bubbling inside you at the view is akin to the feeling that bubbles up when you look at soobin.

a long groan startles you back to reality as soobin sits back in his seat, a small white and green bag with oil stains spreading across the bottom edge is clutched in his right hand. he stretches his arm out to you, the bag dangling between the two of you as you stare sceptically at it.

“what is this?” you ask yet reach out for the bag without waiting for his answer.

unfolding the bag, you peek inside and gasp at what lay in there.

“soobin what…” you begin to ask again, but you are silenced when you meet his eyes. his gaze rests on you with an emotion swimming through his irises that you can’t quite understand.

instead of once again questioning his actions, you reach for the donut, from your favourite local bakery he had brought and pull on it with both hands.

the soft dough comes apart easily and you smile at soobin, holding one half of the donut out to him. he beams back at you, his dimples igniting a warmth in your heart that soobin seems to carry with him.

“no (y/n) i bought it for you, it’s your favourite dessert.” you shrug at him and push the half donut even closer, the cinnamon brushing against his lips.

“and you’re my favourite person, you’ll go well together.” you state as if it is a well known fact. at this, soobin blushes a bright red and turns away, finally turning the engine back on.

the soft guitar that had been playing since you entered the car pauses as his radio restarts with the engine, then promptly continues its soothing tune. 

“hmph.” you let a small, huffy laugh slip past your lips. while soobin focuses his attention on driving off the curb of your front yard, he still finds it in him to question your laughter.

“nothing. i was just listening to this song inside is all.” you admit, your cheeks warm. it feels silly to be flustered by such a small thing, but everything about soobin causes your body to run hot and your heart to pound.

soobin doesn’t respond, instead opting to focus on the road as he exits the cul-de-sac your house sits at the back of as a means to ignore the warmth in his own cheeks.

“soobin! what are you- where are you taking me?” you yelp at him as your own house shrinks away in the mirror. when you look down from the mirror, back at soobin, you find him already staring at you. his eyes are dark, bar the same unknown emotion swirling through them, mouth set in a straight line and you know to take his next words seriously.

“do you trust me?” he asks and you swallow, your throat tight under the intensity of his gaze.

“absolutely.” at this, you are rewarded with his dimples as he smiles to himself, eyes back on the road as he finally turns off of your street and onto the main road.

settling into your seat, your arm rests on the centre console, palm facing upwards. your head lolls to the side, watching through the window that soobin must have wound down before your entrance.

the breeze sweeps over you and within minutes, as you had hoped, soobin’s arm joins yours on the centre console, his large hand tentatively reaching for your own. you open your hand more, allowing him to intertwine his fingers with your own, matching smiles spreading across both of your lips at the gesture.

“the beach?” you turn your head away from the window to look back at soobin upon recognising the route he was driving. his sweet smile morphs into something cheekier and he squeezes your hand with his own.

“i thought you trusted me, hm?” you huff for the nth time tonight at his cryptic response yet your smile doesn’t waver.

then, a split second before the lights come into view, it clicks. a childlike excitement you thought you had left behind awakens in you, your heart sitting in your throat and you aren’t sure if it’s because of the christmas light displays, or the boy who drove you to see them.

soobin slows the car right down as he drives up the strip of beach houses whose owners had gone all out. 

the two of you are lit up by reds, greens and blues as you crawl down the beautifully lit street. you feel as if your eyes couldn’t get any wider, taking in every possible detail you can from each and every display. 

a santa here, a merry christmas there, a snowflake or two, glowing snowmen, lines of candy canes and for a second you felt twelve years old again. your mum on one side of you, your dad on the other looking up at your own christmas display just a few short years before everything fell apart.

tears well in your eyes as you think of your home now, cold and dark despite the sun only just setting and the warmth that christmas was supposed to bring.

as soobin reaches the end of the street, he simply pulls over. a hand on your cheek brings you back to the present, your head whipping over to face soobin as a few tears spill over.

“baby…” soobin pouts at your tearful expression and your heart clenches in return, not before skipping a beat at the term of endearment.

with one of his hands wrapped around your own, the other covering your cheek and his eyes boring into your own, you find yourself drowning in that nostalgic warmth you used to associate with christmas. you squeezed his hand lightly and his pout shifted into a smile as quickly as your tears had fallen.

soobin’s smile felt like the sun itself was shining down on you, half of his face was lit by the christmas lights behind you and the other half by the setting sun. 

“thankyou, bin.” you manage to get out and his smile widens.

“don’t thank me, sweetheart.” he strokes your cheek as he speaks, brushing away any residual moisture from your tears.

“don’t tell me what to do.” you try to snap, but it comes out weak as a couple more tears slip down your cheeks, only to be caught by soobin’s waiting hand.

“there you are!” he teases, landing a poke to your cheek as he chuckles at your attempt at your usual stern tone.

“i’m serious, dumbass. i…” soobin’s breath catches as your heart rises up your throat at the words that have been fighting to get out.

“i love you,” soobin rushes out before you can work up the nerve.

“what?” you ask, thrown off by his abrupt interruption. 

“sorry, i didn’t take you out here to tell you this. i just wanted to help you… i know, christmas can be hard for you sometimes and i- but i do. i love you (y/n).” you watch with a fond smile as he rambles, seemingly letting his nerves get the best of him.

“i love you too, dummy.” a pout takes over his face and he leans in close, breath fanning over your face. you lean in to press your lips to his, but in a flash, the hand the was on your cheek is now covering your lips. your eyes cross ever so slightly as you stare his hand down indignantly.

“uh uh, try that again, dummy.” he says, unable to keep the smile off his face despite his firm tone. 

with a roll of your eyes, you grab his hand and move it back to your cheek for him.

“i love you too, bin.” you offer and with an excited nod of confirmation, soobin leans back in, obtrusions long gone and finally presses his lips to your own.

[snowywolf1005]

@clown-musicspy : HEAR ME OUT 👏 Chimera reader.....but inhales and exhales in scenario of Doflamingo finding out about Chimera Reader

You gacha!

ONE PIECE X CHIMERA READER

You, Straw Hat, and Kaw arrived dressrosa, you were excited!! It was huge!! Everyone wants to get out and have fun, but Law warned everyone about doflamingo, that he is in charge.

But you want to go out so bad, but Law told you to stay on the sunny ship and never go outside just inside the ship. The strawhat and your cousin agreed that you have to be safe no matter what, but you have an idea.

You decide to transform your human self and wear different outfits , and your cousin will do your hair. So they agreed, but to make sure. But doflamingo know about you and try to take your blood when he heard Caesar lab was destroyed by Law, when try to take your blood.

Luffy and ace as to change their name, luffy became Lucy, ace became Anne, and you became falin. You guys fought different rounds, and you met Rebecca. She was nice, and Rebecca knew you from the newspapers.

You were at the bench sitting until chinjao attacked luffy. You grab a chinjao hand really tight, "Don't you dare attack my family!" You yelled. They stop fighting and react to a beautiful woman try to protect her family.

And chinjao knows who you are and keeps it quiet, not telling anyone who you are. You learn what Garp had done. You feel bad for these people, luffy brings new friends, he just made.

Bartolomeo was beam, when he first saw you, and tell all about you. You thought he tried to kidnap you, but no, he was just a fan of the strawhat. You also met sabo luffy and Ace, third brother. You actually get along with him.

In the half hour later, you were captured by trebol after the fighters were attacked. You didn't know where your friends are, you scream luffy name. Then you saw doflamingo, you were scared after Law said that doflamingo is a dangerous man.

Doflamingo smiled when he saw you and knew what you're able of, with your ability and your blood. He was thinking of taking your blood and an army. After Law destroyed the lab, destroying every piece of collected blood vials.

"I heard that you're powerful (Y/N)," said doflamingo. You hissed at him as a treat. "You'll be part of the family. Let see~ You're powerful, so how about joining the heart suite!" He said.

You don't want to join his stupid crew. You met a large family and introduced you as the newest family, and you saw Law, who was injured. Your eyes went too wide, then Law caught your eye, telling you to be very quiet.

Luffy and Ace yelled at doflamingo to let you and Law go. You were happy to see your friends, ace, and luffy managed to throw doflamingo out. And doflamingo was shocked to see all the toys back to normal and shuger was out.

Then Viola gives you the key to unlock Law chains, then you hear what happened to dressrosa past, and you wanted to finish doflamingo. And you did hear that, rebecca is actually a princess.

You saw Robin and bartolomeo. You have to go with bartolomeo, and you met a tiny little fairy name leo. Then you saw Law lost one of his arms off, luffy and ace fighting against doflamingo but got hurt.

You're so angry that you lost control and transformed your chimera form. Luffy, Law, and Ace were shocked, and doflamingo smiled, seeing your form. "I knew you're strong," he said and charged towards you.

You use your clawed paw to slash doflamingo face, but doflamingo was easy to doge and try to get to you. But you easily got away by flying high, then doflamingo got you.

You use fire breathing to burn his string, and then after that, luffy defeat doflamingo and law arm was back to normal. The whole was worried about you, even your cousin.

[pastel-pinku]

Moco my idol

[pherelesytsia]

Coming Home before Christmas

Pairing: Thomas Shelby x female/wife/Reader

Summary: Thomas returns home and is surprised by his children worrying the Grinch will steal the sweets.

Warning: just pure Christmas fluff

Word Count: 1.1k

a/n: Requests are open!!!

Thomas Shelby Masterlist

Christmas carols, old and heard for the hundredth time, playing on a continuous loop, filled every corner and flooded the deserted rooms of the house at the end of the world, oozing with joy and the purest form of delight a heart could feel.

Blue eyes, the beauty of a summer's sky, sparkled. Charlie and his sister, dressed in jumpers with laughing reindeers and grinning snowmen sledging down the hills, tried to count the variously sized ornaments with glittering elements adorning the tree. Light wooden figures were lurking between the ornaments in reddish hues. Fairy lights twinkled like stars and rising flames gnawed at the logs.

Feet dangled from the sofa covered by dozens of pillows and fluffy blankets, hidden in a box in the attic during the warm months. The children stared impatiently at the screen, but no complaint crossed their lips. The door slammed into the lock, and a bunch of keys jiggled. Charlie, threw the blankets aside and jumped followed by his sister off the sofa, ran past the kitchen island and Y/N looked after them as she poured the warm, not boiling liquid into the almost identical cups with rows of red flakes, dots and dancing snowman.

Joyful voices greeted the returned father. The heavy, dark leather bag fell to the ground. Thomas laughed, felt arms wrapping around his leg and he lifted the young girl from the ground, pressed her tight to his chest and ruffled the boy's hair. Snow was thawing and gossamer waterfalls danced over his face. His eyes, once dull, sparkled, forgot the past, the cruel word beyond the thick locked wooden door, and noticed the knitted jumpers.

            "We have been waiting. Come. Everything's set! We have picked out a movie. And if we are not nice, the Grinch will steal our cookies." the children sang out almost in sync as if they had been memorising the sentences on the sofa for several hours as if it was a poem.

The Shelby chuckled and settled his daughter down next to Charlie. The burden of everyday life disappeared. His right hand slipped into his coat pocket and, with the push of a button, he turned the sound of his smartphone off.

            "I'm here, Mister Grinch will not steal your cookies. Where is mom?" Thomas inquired.

The dark-haired man leaned to the side, hoping to catch sight of his wife leaning against the door, but the soft hum of a melody crossing her lips accompanied by the sound of clinking spoons let him know she was in the kitchen.

Hands reached for him, clutching his firmly and the children pulled the father still dressed in the coat into the depths of the house, past reindeers with reddish scarves and saluting nutcrackers. They ignored his complaints, wishing to finally find themselves on the sofa and turn on the fairy tale.

Entering the living room, the scent of Christmas, oranges, apples, and chocolate greeted him. His eyes slid across the richly decorated room. The reindeer pulling the swan carriage next to the nutcrackers in uniforms saluted and protected the snowmen family on the window seat, and Thomas wondered how he could have disliked Christmas, almost loathe, the merry time. The thick, indestructible layer of ice protecting his heart like a shield of silver and steel melted away. Once he would have called the reddish pyjamas with snowmen and nutcrackers childish and idiotic, something a grown woman should not wear, but it looked better on his wife than an evening gown. Her hair falling in gentle waves framed her features, touched by the soft light. The children released his hands and told him to follow swiftly, but the father didn't listen as they ran back to the sofa.

Y/N exhaled, turned, and faced her husband. He remembers, Y/N thought to herself, glancing at the clock and seeing that it was still before seven, knowing he had been thinking of them, trying to keep the promise he had made to at least try to arrive earlier to spend time with his family.

Grinning, Thomas cast his gaze over his shoulder and glanced after the chatting children. He took off the coat and threw it onto the bar stool. Thomas flashed his wife a smile, stepped closer and wrapped his arms around her waist, placed his hands on the small of her back and breathed a feather-light kiss on her lips.

            "I missed you," Thomas whispered, barely audible, but Y/N heard the words loud and clear.

            "I missed you too. How was your day? Are you tired? We waited but we can watch the movie tomorrow. You are probably exhausted. Arthur called and told me you might arrive later, that your day was rough." Y/N spoke.

Thomas chuckled, lowered his gaze to the cups with whipped cream, colourful sprinkles and chocolate flecks.

            "I'm not tired. You don't have to worry about me. I am fine. Nothing a cup of coffee can't fix and we should join the children if we want cookies." Thomas answered.  

Y/N didn't have to look at the table, heard the giggling children tampering with the round white and silver plates, searching for the most delicious biscuits and devouring them as if they hadn't eaten in days.

            "You should have seen them in the afternoon when they came from school and kindergarten. You might have noticed, but the gingerbread house is gone. I was in the shower, maybe ten minutes gone, and when I returned, the house was gone." Y/N breathed.

Astonished, Thomas turned and noticed that instead of the gingerbread house was a reindeer on the mantlepiece.

            "I noticed the sweets were missing." Thomas laughed.

            "The gingerbread wasn't even soft. It was hard as a rock. But they didn't mind. They drank at least a litre of milk to soften it. And now they are planning to build a new house and I am surprised that their stomach doesn't ache." reported Y/N.

She leaned her head on his chest. His fingers sank into her hair, brushed through the light waves, and breathed lovely words into her ear. The children switched off the lamp and the only source of light was the dimly glowing Christmas tree, and Charlie called out to the parents, gazing into each other's eyes like love-struck lovers.

[ddejavvu]

i just read your fairy!reader and hotch fic and i couldn’t stop thinking about it bc the way you write is absolutely enchanting, so i’ve got to request: a fairy!reader x tangerine story?? potentially along the lines of him finding her after a job (maybe the person he killed had been keeping her captive) and she starts helping him on jobs or cleans him up after them and it gets super fluffy and cute?

today is multiverse monday, send me any au you can think of! :)

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There's a bleeding man panting a foot from your cage. He's staring down at your captor, or- your former captor now, the man's body lifeless as blood oozes from the cuts he'd obtained. There's another beside him, shorter, darker-skinned, and the crowbar he'd plucked off of the workbench to whack your captor with is still hanging from his limp grip.

"So that's it, then?" The shorter one glances up at the taller, and the taller man shrugs, "'Guess so. No one else we need to take care of?"

"Just the one," The shorter one assures him, and your heart races as you realize they're not going to see you, you have to make yourself known.

"Excuse me!" You shout, hoping your voice will be loud enough to carry over their heavy breathing. It works, they hear you, and both flinch violently as they turn and frantically scan for whatever noise they'd just heard.

"The fuck-" The taller man hisses, eyes wild and dangerous, "Who's there?"

"Tangerine," The shorter one spots you, eyes widening then narrowing in disbelief as he elbows his friend, pointing at you, "Look."

"What- What the fuck?" The taller man - Tangerine...? - finally sees you, flinching away and watching as your wings flutter aimlessly behind you, "Are you- what are you?"

"I'm a fairy," You gush, helpless and scared, "And- and that man was keeping me here, locked up." You point at your captor's dead body, "The keys are in his pocket, please- please help me, I- I'll starve if you don't! I promise I won't tell anyone I saw you, just- just please help."

Your eyes are brimming with miniscule, crystalline tears when you finish your please, and the shorter one bends slowly at the knees, keeping his eyes on you as he feels around the the keys.

"Yeah," He breathes, "Uh, yeah, we'll get you out. Tan," He can't stop staring at you, mouth slightly agape as he blindly shoves the keys at Tangerine, "You do it."

"Oh fuck me," Tangerine murmurs, "'Always has to be me, huh? Right, uh, fairy-"

"Y/N," You inform warily, hands wrapped around the bars of your cage, "I won't hurt you, I promise. Please let me out."

"Yeah, I've gotcha," Tangerine mumbles, squinting at the keyhole to your cage. The sound of the lock clicking is like music to your ears, and when the door swings open you can't help but lunge for Tangerine.

He lets out a scream so high-pitched that his friend honestly thinks it came from you for a moment, but you latch onto Tangerine's cheek, arms wrapped over his nose and around the back of his head to hug him for letting you go.

"Thank you," You gush just beside his ear, voice soft so that you don't deafen him. He relaxes when he realizes you're just hugging him, muscles slowly loosening where they'd been tight and stiff.

"Yeah," He breathes, mustache prickling against the skin of your leg, "Yeah, uh- fuck, okay, what are we gonna do with you?"

"Open the door," The man on the floor suggests, and Tangerine looks down at him bewildered.

"We can't just open the door, Lemon. What, so she can flutter out there and get hit by a semi-truck? I'm pretty sure fairies aren't supposed to live in the fucking city!"

There's a gruff rasp to Tangerine's voice at the end of his sentence, one that's accompanied by his eyes practically bulging out of his head as his neck tenses. You flutter down to his chest pocket, perching yourself on the hem of the fabric there and resting a hand on his stiff neck. He brings his chin to his chest in a quick flinch, but realizes you're trying to soothe him, and sends you a polite, but apprehensive smile.

"Okay! Okay, so what, then?" Lemon snaps, straightening up from where he'd been kneeling beside your captor's body, "You're just gonna take 'er home? Tuck her into your pocket? Feed her little crumbs of biscuit for breakfast, huh?"

A resolute frown etches its way over Tangerine's features, and you have a sneaking suspicion he's only agreeing to spite Lemon, "Yes. I am, for your information."

He glances down at you, stuffing a finger into his breast pocket and holding it open for you, "There y'go, love. Slide right in there, 'n you can come home with me 'till we get you back to wherever you came from."

"Thank you," You breathe, rushing to shimmy into Tangerine's breast pocket. It's warm there, it's nice, and it smells like him. You're a bit disappointed that he doesn't smell like oranges, but his scent is nice otherwise.

"You're insane," Lemon huffs, eyeing your contented expression as you settle in Tangerine's pocket, "You're gonna get investigated by the government or something. That's some Area 51 shit right there, Tan."

"The government is already looking for us," Tangerine scoffs, "A bunch of them are. This can't hurt."

"Can't hurt. Can't hurt!" Lemon throws his hands up, letting the crowbar clank to the ground after he hits his thigh, "That's what you always say. And every time, it fuckin' hurts!"

"Don't listen to 'im," Tangerine looks down at you, murmuring so that Lemon can continue on his rage-fueled tirade without interruption. Tangerine's face is much kinder when he looks at you than when he looks at Lemon, and you feel his soft features coaxing a smile out of your own, "You'll be nice and safe with me, love, I'll make sure of it."

[deadricslover]

Sweet nothings

a/n: Don't even know how I came up with this one tbh but I'm depressed because tour is over so I've been thinking about the guys too much.

summary: After a long day, you finally get home and spend some time with your partner and your sleep app comes in handy the next morning.

warnings: None :)

pairings: Ashton Irwin x fem!reader

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Your ears got used to the car horns blaring and engines rumbling as you sat in traffic waiting impatiently to get home after a day that has-- for lack of better words, exhausted you. Those familiar sounds were soon interrupted by a sound that clashed with the cars and their horns. Your phone. You pick it up and glance at it quickly even though you are stuck in traffic that's not moving. You answer it and put it on speaker, dropping it onto your lap

"Hey, Ash" you say into the speaker

"Hey, you. Where are you?" he asks clearly wondering where you are as you should have been home almost an hour ago.

"Stuck in traffic." You sigh simply wanting to go home, see your partner, eat dinner whilst watching TV and go to sleep.

"Ah, I should have come to get you" he replies hearing your tone.

"That wouldn't have gotten me home any faster" you giggle

"I could have been there to keep you company at least. I've been home all day by myself" He hates being alone for too long, you knew this but needed to leave nevertheless.

"Would've could've should've" You reply not even thinking up of another answer for him.

You hear him let out a little laugh before informing you "You sound like a dad"

"Thanks, Ashton" You reply sarcastically. "I should be home in about half an hour" you let him know

"Perfect. I made dinner. I don't want it to get cold" he replies

"Ooh, what did you make?" you ask genuinely curious but also wanting to keep talking to him and not hang up

"You'll see when you get home." he tells in a sneaky tone.

"Ahh, I see" you understand "how was your day?"

"nothing out of the ordinary. Just played around with some songs for a while"

"anything good?"

"I'll ask the guys and see what they think. I'm not sure how I feel about them" he replies honestly

"they're better than you think. don't worry" you support

He thanks you and you wrap up the conversation with him nearing twenty minutes later as you were close to home. You lock your car and open the front door to your home dropping your keys inside the front door. Ashton comes around the corner when he heard the door open to greet you with that perfect, contagious smile that could brighten the gloomiest of days. You're greeted by the comforting scent of dinner wafting through the air. The soft glow of fairy lights adorned their living room, creating a warm ambiance-- one that you needed at this moment.

"you're home" he says, wrapping you in a tight embrace. The stress of the day seemed to melt away in that moment. His comfort was all you ever needed in life, his warm energy and personality.

"What's all this?" you ask, a curious smile forming on your face as you notice the carefully set table and the delicious aroma of your favorite meal.

"Just a little surprise for my hardworking girl" Ashton replied pulling away from you slightly to catch your reaction, his eyes sparkling with affection.

"Do you want to change first?" He questions letting go of you but still holding your hand in his lightly as if you were a delicate piece of art-- which to him, you were. You nod softly before leaving and changing into something a little more comfy. You take your hair down as you make your way back into the kitchen and see him dishing up two plates.

"no peeking" he says without even turning around to you, knowing you all too well. you smile and roll your eyes as if he would see and left the kitchen. he quicky follows you and being the gentleman he is, pulls out a chair for you before pushing you back in and hurrying off to get the plates.

Throughout dinner, Ashton couldn't help but constantly steal glances at you, when you weren't looking, in awe at the way your eyes lit up when you spoke your part of the conversation. As the evening went on, the atmosphere shifted to one of tranquility, the pair enjoying each other's company in the soft glow of the living room, catching up on some tv that you had missed the night before, before making your way to bed to wrap up the perfect night.

As you were exhausted from the long day you had, you slept almost instantly after finishing your night routine and got cozy in bed whilst Ashton brushed his teeth. He saw you wrapped up in the duvet all snuggled up and couldn't help but smile at you. Something about tonight was just so lovingly domestic that neither of you could help stealing glances at eachother and smiling to yourselves.

he turns off the lights and gets into bed next to you cuddling up. He couldn't help but admire you even more as the moonlight hit your sleeping face. He plants a kiss into your head and nuzzles his nose and face into you sweetly.

"I love you" he whispers. "so so much"

"I don't want to wake you, but I needed to say it" he adds

He whispers sweet nothings to you for a little while before eventually drifting to sleep.

The next morning you woke up without Ashton by your side. He had mentioned that he wouldn't be there and he would be at the studio with the guys when you woke up. You grabbed your phone as you sat down to eat breakfast and saw notifications from different apps. your sleep tracking app popped up and indicated that you had been sleep talking. Curiously you click into the app and press play on the audio and Ashton's voice reaches your ears. You hear all of the sweet nothings that he whispered to you when you were sleeping and couldn't help the formation of butterflies in your stomach. You decided to ask him about it when he came home later on that day. You got ready for work and left for the day.

Differently to yesterday, Ashton got you from work on the way home from being at the studio.

"Hey, Ash" you greet him, getting into the car.

"hi, my love" he replies placing a kiss to your face when you settle in.

after asking eachother about your days you decide to ask him about the sleep app.

"can I ask you something?" you question

"anything" he replies

you didn't know exactly how to go about it, but wanted to know that you knew so you decided to just play the audio for him. he glances over you slightly confused until he realizes what's going on. He goes red and looks away embarrassed about what's happening. he doesn't regret it, but wishes your stupid sleep app hadn't caught it.

"turn it off" he laughs gently pushing the phone out of your hands.

"you're so sweet" you tell him, placing your hand on his that's on the gearstick showing him there's nothing to be ashamed about.

"shut up" he shushes you, still smiling as he puts his hand on your thigh momentarily.

You finish the day exactly the same as the previous day, but Ashton makes sure to block the permissions from your sleep app so that it doesn't catch anything else. He isn't upset that you heard, and to be honest, he's not all that embarrassed, because he says this stuff to you all the time but it's just the fact that you caught him. He wouldn't change that you heard it though.