Tumgik
#he has been scrubbed from the ceiling but not from our hearts
burrow-ix · 4 months
Text
Snooze
Tumblr media
Summary: A late night drive through downtown Cincinnati after a rough day at work helps your blossoming relationship with Tee become even more serious.
Warnings: just straight up sickening fluff; allusions to a potential spicy part 2 👀 and it’s also just really freaking long so 😅
Also, thank you again @balanceingrace for helping with framework and helping me love this story again. I love you always🤍
You shuffle into your little house after an extremely long and busy shift at the hospital, throwing your purse lord knows where and your shoes in the general vicinity of the little shoe rack by the door.
You loved your job, but a day like today made you want to break down and never go back. It was one thing after the other, difficult patients, difficult family members, there was no time for time management, and not to mention losing a patient halfway through the day. That was your straw, but you had no choice but to swallow back the tears and keep moving.
You peel off your scrubs after slugging off to your bedroom, and lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling. Your mind was numb, your body was numb.
After a few minutes, you finally slide off the bed and go into the bathroom to take a shower, the borderline scorching heat of the water soothing your achy, and extremely tense muscles. You let a couple tears slip out but you always tried to make sure you didn’t bring work home with you, because that would just make your job and home life worse. You refused to combine the two.
You step out of the shower and quickly dry yourself off and half ass-ly drying your hair. You realized once you started that you quite frankly didn’t care. You slip on an oversized shirt and panties before slipping into your bed, the tears wanting to flow but you wouldn’t let them. You just took a deep breath and stared at the ceiling once again.
Your brain started running 100 miles a minute. Replaying the day in your head, if this was what you still want you wanted to do for the rest of your life, what tomorrow what was going to consist of, your relationship with Tee that has become VERY serious recently, the big black hole in the middle of our galaxy. You know, all the things.
At one point, you turn over and the clock read 10:47pm.
“Oh shit” you groan. You had laid here for an hour and a half just thinking. You wanted to go to sleep but you couldn’t shut your brain off.
Your phone dings and you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. You lazily picked up your phone off of your nightstand, and it was almost like your favorite person read your mind.
Tee 🤍
wanna go on a drive?
You smile at the text, your heart that has been cold most of the day flooding with warmth almost instantly and a couple tears make their way down your cheeks. It’s like he knew, he had that instinct of needing to take care of you, and that’s what he was going to do.
(Y/N)
how did you know I needed that?
Tee🤍
bc I know you
I need to see you and I feel like you need to see me
I was just hoping you were up since it’s way past gma’s bed time 😉
You roll your eyes, that smile not leaving your face. You did normally go to bed at 8:30pm. You loved your sleep, who doesn’t? But he loved to make fun of you for it.
(Y/N)
I do need to see you, really bad.
come get me
Tee🤍
on my way baby
You take another deep breath, not only thanking Joe and Olivia for introducing you two but thanking God for placing Tee into your life. The longer you guys have been together, the more he knows you, how you operate, which faces mean certain feelings, even as much as knowing when something is wrong even when he’s apart from you. It was the little things.
You throw on a pair of biker shorts and a long sleeve. It was fall time and temp was in the 60s. It was beautiful outside lately.
You fix your hair as best you can, still keeping it up but making it look like you weren’t just about to go to bed. 15 minutes later, Tee texts you saying that he had just pulled in and you throw some shoes on before heading out of the house.
You walk down to his car and open the door, leaning down to peek at him. He smiles at you, one arm leaning on the console and the other resting on the steering wheel and you couldn’t help but match his smile.
“Hey you” you say.
“Hey you” he repeats, his smile radiating. His smile killed you. It was so bright, so genuine. He was someone who was genuine. Very kind hearted and caring. You adored him.
You climbed into the passenger seat and made eye contact once again. You two look at each other for a moment before he leans in and presses a gentle kiss to your cheek and then on your lips.
You pull away a few moments later and bump your nose against his, smiling like a love sick puppy. The way he makes your mood change instantly still blows your mind.
“Missed you” he murmurs.
“I’ve missed you too” your voice cracks, not intentionally, but those tears were making their way back. Little did you know that you just needed him to help you feel better.
“I knew something was up, what’s wrong?” He asks, resting his hand on your thigh, his eyebrows furrowed as he watches the tears form in your eyes.
“It was just my day. I can tell you while you drive” you assure him.
“Driving can wait” he gives your thigh a squeeze.
“No Tee, it’s okay. I’ll be over it by tomorrow. Just go ahead and drive, for me, please?” You quietly beg. He stares at you for a moment before nodding and backing out of your driveway.
You two ride in silence for awhile before you tuck a foot under you, getting comfortable since who knew how long you two were going to be driving around for. At one point, the air was getting colder and you were getting cold but you didn’t want to say anything because you were enjoying the windows down.
Tee easily read your body language so at the next red light, he put the car in park and unbuckled before slipping his hoodie off and handing it to you.
“You don’t have to do that. I’m fine” you smile at him as he buckles himself again.
“No you’re not. Can’t have my girl freezing” he smiles back before hitting the gas as the light turns green. You roll your eyes and throw his hoodie on, sneakily smelling his cologne.
Tee’s hand slides onto your thigh, giving it a nice squeeze. You smile over at him and you rub your hand up and down his tattooed arm. Sexy ass.
“Do you want to talk about your day now?” He asks, glancing over at you. You let out a deep sigh before starting to explain one thing after the other, and he listened attentively, he was a very good listener and you were thankful, especially on the days where you needed to rant.
“….and everything just piled on top of each other and it became almost unbearable. I tried to wind down so I could go to sleep and just forget about today but my brain wouldn’t shut the fuck up” you let out a huff of annoyance and he quietly chuckles at the last part.
“First off, I wanna say how much of a badass you are. I could never do what you do in a day. That’s a hell of a lot of brain power to use and energy that I don’t have”
“You’re a fucking wide receiver, Tee, you have a lot of both of those things” you giggle.
“But it’s different, you know what I’m sayin’? Like you are having to keep people alive, some you can’t help and it was written in the cards from when they were even thought of. But you are so fucking brave and so strong to do what you do everyday. I hope you know how badass you are, because seriously, you are and I admire you for it every single day” he looks over at you as he arrives at another stop light.
Your heart floods with a familiar feeling you’ve experienced honestly since you started dating Tee but you kept pushing it off because you didn’t want to believe it so early but it was happening; hell, it happened already, you fell in love with him, truly, madly, deeply. It was pathetic.
He was the most generous and loving person. He was supportive and encouraging in everything you did. Always looking out for you, checking on you, making sure you feel beautiful always. You were his queen, his number one, other than his Momma, and rightfully so.
You’ve had a few serious relationships over the years but all of those men turned out to be trash and honestly gave you trust issues but this was different in only the best way possible. You saw a future with Tee, even after this short time that felt like a lifetime.
Not to mention he was a hottie. His handsome face, that stunning smile, his tall and muscular frame, his tattoos; the man was the definition of tall, dark, and handsome.
Tee glanced over at you, feeling your eyes on him, he gives you his bright smile that makes you want to squeeze him tightly and never let him go.
You love him.
“You want to tell me what’s on your mind right now? Did I say something wrong?” He asks, turning his eyes back to the road, a small and almost worried smile gracing his face.
And speaking of heart racing, yours was about to beat out of your chest at what was spilling out of your mouth.
“I love you” you breathe out.
Tee’s heart could about explode. He’s been so scared to say it, afraid of how you would react when he would say those exact three words to you. He honestly fell for you a lot sooner than you fell for him but that was another story for another time.
“I am so glad you said that, because I love you too” he says, his smile the brightest it’s ever been.
“I really need a damn stop light because I need to kiss you so bad right now” you say and he laughs.
“Hold on, I gotchu”
He turns onto a different street and the light turned yellow and he slowly comes to a stop, placing the car in park and looking over at you.
“Thank you Jesus” you breathe out and grab his face, smashing your lips against his. You two smiled against each other’s lips, thinking about how you both finally made the long awaited confession.
Then to make it even more perfect, “Snooze” by SZA comes on shuffle. You two finally pull away from each other, not without another sweet kiss from Tee.
“I fucking love you” he says just above a whisper. Your stomach was doing backflips. Just hearing him say those words meant the world to you.
“And I love you” you smile.
He gives you one more firm but tender kiss before he shifts the car back into drive as the light turns green.
That just happened.
When you first started dating Tee, “Snooze” was y’all’s vibe, and still is. You dreamt about him. There was never a moment where you wanted to be somewhere else. He made you feel so important, so wanted, cared for, loved.
Everything in this moment couldn’t have been more perfect. This song playing as you two drove through mildly quiet downtown Cincinnati, windows down, the cooler air slipping into the car, nipping your skin but in a comforting way.
The sky was clear so despite the city lights, you could still see the beautiful stars in the sky. The man you loved to the left of you, his tattooed hand on your thigh, you wearing his hoodie, and both finally saying out loud that you loved each other. Your heart was surely the size of both of your lungs combined at this point. Every bad thing that happened today vanished from your brain like it never even happened. This was what heaven looked like to you.
He must have felt this moment too because his hand finds yours and laces your fingers together, giving it a soft squeeze.
“Long as you dreamin' 'bout me, ain't no problem
I don't got nobody, just with you right now
Tell the truth, I look better under you
I can't lose when I'm with you
How can I snooze and miss the moment?
You just too important
Nobody do body like you do”
“Damn” Tee murmurs and shakes his head.
“What?” You ask.
“You…the way you make me feel. It’s just wild” he says, full on blushing and you couldn’t help but blush in return.
“Quit Tee” you smile down at your clasped hands.
“You quit” he chuckles.
“Ain't a home when you not here
Hard to grow when you not here, I'm sayin'
I can't lose when I'm with you”
“You should stay over tonight” he glances over at you with hopeful eyes.
“Teeee” you sigh.
“Please? It’ll kill me to take you home tonight” he juts his bottom lip out.
“That’s very dramatic” you giggle and flick his lip.
“It’s not dramatic. I don’t wanna take you home, especially now” he says, squeezing your thigh. You smile sadly and rest your head on his arm, your mind already working to figure something out. You didn’t want him to take you home either.
After another half an hour or so, he pulls back up to your house. He leans his head back onto the head rest and looks at you, his eyes sad.
“Don’t look at me like that, Tee” you whine.
“I don’t want you to leave. It’s been a week and I miss you” he sighs, looking down at your hands intertwined, his thumb rubbing back and forth on your hand.
“You’ll see me at the game this weekend” you tell him but he still didn’t like that. You wanted to play a little hard to get now.
He turns his head back, looking forward. You knew he was pouting.
“Tee”
You sigh when he doesn’t answer you. His hand still rested on your thigh as you watched him. You get an idea.
You unbuckle your seatbelt and climb over the console and into his lap, straddling his hips. He looks up at you, eyes widened slightly. He gave you a quick glance up and down before his eyes meeting yours as you speak up.
“Can I suggest something?” You ask and he hums.
“I would stay at your place, but I have stuff to do here tomorrow, stuff that I could get done while you’re at practice. So what if we stayed at my place tonight? I know it’s not as nice as y-“
“Okay” he smiles, his hands running up your thighs and holds onto your hips.
“Okay?”
“Okay. But I might have to run home to grab stuff for tomorrow, if that’s okay?”
“Well yeah, of course, whatever you need to do. Are you sure it’s okay?” You ask running yours hands up and down his shoulders.
“More than okay. I don’t care where we stay, as long as you’re there” he smiles again and you couldn’t help but smile back.
“And then I could stay with you this weekend?” You suggest.
“Absolutely” he nods.
You wrap your arms around him and nuzzle your face into neck.
“I’ve also missed you” you say, pressing gentle kisses onto his neck, your breath sending chills down his spine. He wraps his arms around you tightly in a hug. He couldn’t get enough of you, ever.
“I’m going to go home and grab my iPad for our meetings and grab more clothes so I can stay a couple days, okay?” He asks, running his thumb over your bottom lip.
“Okay”
“That okay with you?”
“More than okay with me” you kiss his lips multiple times, him giving you a loving and healthy smack to the ass before you crawl out of his lap and out of the car.
“I’ll be back. I love you” he smiles. God, it felt so good for him to say that, and it felt so good for you to hear it.
“I love you. Be careful” you smile back, giving him another kiss before shutting his door and making your way back into the house.
Holy shit. What a day.
45 minutes later, as you laid on the couch, you get a knock on your door.
“Damn it” you curse under your breath as you hop off the couch and run to the door. You accidentally locked the door out of habit.
You unlock the door and open it to be greeted by Tee who had a bookbag on his shoulder and a duffel bag hanging by his side.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to lock it” you say grimacing.
“Don’t want me to stay, huh?” He smirks pushing his body up against yours, backing you further into your living room, shutting the door behind him.
“Don’t you start being dramatic again. You know I want you to stay. I want you to stay all the time” you cock an eyebrow at him, sliding your hands up his arms and around his neck as he drops his bags.
“Mhm” he hums as he presses his lips to yours, his tongue making its way into your mouth, giving you all the feels.
Tee’s hands slide from your hips to your ass, squeezing it with his large hands. You moan into his mouth and he presses his hands into your ass so your hips press into his.
After a couple minutes of your make out sesh in the middle of your living room, he pulls away slightly, his breath fanning your face. He must have brushed his teeth before coming back over to your house because you tasted and smelled mint.
“You make me feel…insane” he says.
“Is that a good or bad thing?” You ask and he smiles at you.
“So good” he chuckles, reattaching your lips for a few more minutes before you break away again.
“As much as I want to continue this, it’s so late and you’re gonna hate yourself in the morning if you don’t go to sleep” you breathe out.
“You right. Tomorrow, after I get back?” He smirks.
“If you’re lucky” you shrug, giggling at his expression.
“I’m very lucky, damn it” he says nuzzling his face into your neck making you laugh.
“Let’s go to bed, you exhaust me” you sigh, walking past him towards your bedroom.
“You haven’t seen anything yet, baby” he says, giving a harsh smack to your ass as he walks behind you.
“Tee!” You gasp and he smiles innocently.
You two eventually get changed into more comfortable clothes and get comfy in bed, your back pressed against his front, his long arms wrapped around you and his face nuzzled into your neck, mumbling “I love you’s” to each other that still didn’t feel real.
And that’s when he starts to slowly hum a melody that you both listened to earlier in the night, allowing you to relax and finally drift to sleep.
I can't lose when I'm with you.
How can I snooze and miss the moment?
You just too important.
Nobody do body like you do, you do.
160 notes · View notes
roosterbruiser · 6 months
Text
Tumblr media
𝐂𝐑𝐔𝐄𝐋 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐑 — 𝐄𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐓𝐖𝐎
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
—𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐏𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍: 𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐇-𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐈𝐍-𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐍. —𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒: 𝟏𝟑.𝟗𝐊 —𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 —𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 —𝐕𝐈𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐁𝐎𝐀𝐑𝐃 —𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐔𝐒 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑
Tumblr media
𝐄𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄 𝐖𝐎𝐎𝐃𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄, 𝐌𝐄 𝐒𝐓. 𝐆𝐄𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐄'𝐒 𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐋 𝐀𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐋 𝟏𝟓𝐓𝐇, 𝟏𝟗𝟖𝟖
The gurney breaches doorways, breaks crowds of baby blue scrubs. The wheels scream, unoiled and abused. Everyone is talking--terms you usually can synthesize but cannot now. You stare at the ceiling tiles, desperately trying to keep your heavy lids open. 
You’re not in immeasurable pain now, but you would be without the needle in your spine. Maybe you’re going to be on the table and the monster you’ve been incubating is going to break through your skin and then a fire is going to eat the both of you--unless, of course, you bleed out first. 
Maybe this is the end. Maybe this is what your summer has been coming to all along. 
This is it. What a silly thought that is. What gives?
With the world flying by you from up above in shades of white and crisp blue, you wonder what this was all for. All this pain, all this torture, all this fever. What good did it do anybody?
Flames over flesh. 
It’s the last thing you think before your eyes close and you sink into a meperidine haze.  
The sun is warm on your cheeks and shoulders as you step out of the passenger side of Maverick’s Jeep, the worn straps of your duffle digging into the bare skin of your shoulder. Your flimsy sandals--you should’ve known better than to wear sandals--sink into the gravel and gray dust kicks up your shins. 
Inhaling deeply, you’re almost startled at how clean the air smells. Nothing like the choking scent of leather and gasoline in Maverick’s Jeep--it was making your eyes damn near water on the ride up. But here it is fresh and purified by pine and oak and crabgrass.
“Got anything in the back?” Maverick asks you, already headed towards the trunk with his shades intact and his jet-black hair wind-kissed from your ride with the top down. You shake your head. “Just the duffel then, huh? Light packer! I like that in a woman! Would you so mind helping me grab some of the supplies from the back?”
“Sure thing,” you tell him, setting your bag on the gravel and following him to the back of the Jeep. 
He’s grinning as the two of you begin unloading. 
“I love it here,” he tells you with a content sigh. He glances around the property, notes where a screen needs to be repaired and a hinge reattached and paint touched up, and glances at you. You’re diligently unloading jugs of water and big boxes of raisins with your brow knit. There’s a faint smile tugging on your lips, a heat about your face and chest that gives you a sheen of excitement. “You’re going to love it here, you know. What do you think so far, nurse?” 
Face warm from his nickname for you, which feels like a pretty high compliment for a prospective nursing student, you smile very politely. 
“Well, it's sure…picturesque. If that isn’t too corny,” you tell him, quickly glancing at the trees scraping the endless blue sky. “Quiet, too.” 
“Just wait until the rugrats get here. You won’t even remember what the word quiet means. It’s completely fantastic,” Maverick tells you, wiping his hands on his khaki-colored shorts. He slams the trunk of the Jeep shut. “I’ll give you the walking-talking tour if you carry that jug aaand those boxes for me.” 
Trailing behind him, arms full of water and pantry goods, you’re only half-listening to him. Your heart is beating steadily in your throat, arms already aching.  
“--officially opened the doors with Pen about two or three years ago--oh, that’s my wife, by the way. Penny, Pen, P. You’ll probably meet her sometime this summer, I’d guess! Anyway, it was the year our daughter, Mel, started school. Didn’t have anything to do, so we thought--why not?” Maverick says. He stops suddenly and props a heavy wooden box on his thigh so he can wipe the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand. He glances at you and notes you taking it all in still. He smiles. “Pen used to go here as a little girl. Some of her favorite memories of her childhood are--well, right here. She’s always passing the camp folklore down to the masses. Don’t believe a word Jake says, alright? He’s gullible and he embellishes.” 
You imagine writing it down on a sticky note and plastering it to the inside of your skull: don’t trust Jake--he’s a storyteller.  
“Has it always been open to the public? Camp, I mean.” You ask. “Heck, I’d never heard of it until this summer.” 
Maverick shakes his head. 
“So much for advertising, right? Guess word-of-mouth isn’t the best way to spread the good news about camp,” he laughs. “It’s got kind of a funky history. Opened first in 1945 after the war and stayed open until--huh, I think about…’57 or ‘59? And then it was closed until Penny and I opened it up again in ‘80.” 
“Wow,” you say softly. “Was it in rough shape?” 
“Everything but the camp sign,” Maverick says, nodding towards the large arched sign at the mouth of camp. It is a heavy and thick thing made of wood--hand painted in clear, concise letters. “That's why we kept the name.” 
“Camp Arcadia,” you say aloud. “It’s got a nice little ring to it, doesn’t it?” 
“It definitely could’ve been worse,” Maverick agrees, laughing. “Like Camp Crystal Lake.” 
“Don’t remind me,” you say, laughing softly. “I’m trying to forget about that film’s existence.” 
“Sorry, sorry,” Maverick says. “Do you know what Arcadia means?” 
“Uh,” you say, thinking. Heat has sprouted in your chest from the exertion of carrying such heavy items. “I don’t think I do.” 
“Get this,” Maverick starts, grinning. “A place of simple pleasure and quiet.” 
“Well, then. It sure lives up to its name!” 
“That’s what Penny says,” Maverick sighs. “But she usually stays away during the talent show.” 
“There’s a talent show?” You ask, grinning. Maverick nods. “How sweet. Must get all the kiddos excited.” 
“Oh, boy--does it ever.” Maverick glances at you, but then stops again. You’re both panting when you dig your heels into the gravel and halt. He nods to your strained arms. “That too heavy? You alright?” 
Really, you’re struggling to carry all the items in your arms. But dammit if you’ll so much as let your bottom lip quiver. 
“Nah, I’m good!” You say, panting. “I’m great, actually.” 
Maverick has already decided he likes you. But he especially likes you when you’re lying to save face. It reminds him of himself. 
“From your lips to God’s ear,” he says with a wink. 
Maverick takes you through the courtyard and into the mess hall, where he tells you to just throw the items anywhere. And you quite literally hardly make it through the door before your knees are buckling and you’re setting everything down with complete haste. 
“That’s quite a hike,” you pant to Maverick, slightly embarrassed as you fan yourself. “You didn’t give me a fair warning.” 
“Would you have come?” He asks, all charm and charisma as he wipes his balmy hands on the thighs of his jeans. 
“Touché,” you breathe. 
“Thanks a million, by the way,” Maverick tells you, plucking his sunglasses off and hooking them to his linen button-down before he grins at you again. “How you feeling? Nervous? Scared? Excited?” 
Maverick moves about a million miles a minute--he’s a fast talker and an even faster driver. As you catch your breath and chew on your answer, you begin to feel like you have a crick in your neck and a Hell of a summer ahead of you. 
But you just smile at him. 
“I’m feelin’ dandy,” you answer him. You glance around the cavernous mess hall, which has been freshly mopped--diluted bleach stings your nostrils, coats the roof of your mouth. “Where is everyone?” 
He points at you, eyebrows coming together. 
“Good question,” he sighs. “Let’s go find ‘em, huh?” 
You don’t have to go far to find everyone. Just as soon as the two of you are out the door and in the heat again, you hear splashing and hollering. Turning your face towards the water--a beautiful, blue lake that stretches from one side of the tree-lined horizon to the other--you see them all. 
“There they are,” Maverick grins, hands on his hips. “Guess they needed to cool off.” 
“What were they doing before?” You ask, brow furrowed. You wring your hands together as you scan the water--a handful of men, all brawny and tan and long hair and sex, and one petite brunette--swallowing hard. “Like, you know. What got them so hot?” 
“Orgies tend to get a tad steamy,” a voice says from behind you, a teasing lilt sinking into the notes. “But so does repainting the latrine.” 
“Ah,” Maverick says, grinning at the man that has suddenly materialized behind you. Maverick throws an arm over his shoulders and doesn’t seem to mind how much he is dwarfed by this man. He slaps the man’s bare chest a few friendly times. “My favorite nephew.” 
“Don’t worry,” the man says, eyes wide. He holds his hands up to you like you’re an upset animal he’s cornered and he’s trying to get back on your good side. “Not related biologically.” 
“Why would she worry about that?” Maverick asks him, already fighting an eye roll. 
“‘Cause I don’t want her thinking my genes are tainted or anything,” the man answers with a boyish grin. “In fact, I don’t want anyone thinking that!”
“Tainted? You mean blessed,” Maverick says, letting his eyes finally roll. He glances at you, still smiling. “Nurse--this is Rooster. Rooster, this is nurse.” 
Rooster’s sopping wet, only wearing a small pair of swim trunks, and his curls are dripping lakewater down his back. His hair is dark gold, curly, and long enough to sit just below his shoulders. And his chest glistens in the sun, wide and hard from manual labor.  
And you--you look way too young to be the new nurse here. The last nurse was closing in on her seventies and always had a butterscotch candy tucked inside her cheek. You aren’t in uniform--camp or otherwise--and he wonders if you’re the new counselor he heard about last week. A last-minute hire, someone Maverick was going to bring in personally. 
“You’re the new camp nurse?” He asks, brows furrowed. He looks you up and down, sizes you up. He’s wondering how old you are to already be a nurse--you can practically see the question on his tongue. 
You hold your hip with one hand and shade your eyes from the sun with the other. 
“You’re named after a farm animal and you’re worried about him tainting your genes?” 
Maverick laughs--a deep and proud belly laugh--before clapping Rooster on the shoulder.
“Ouch,” Rooster says, mocking offense. He can’t wipe the grin off his lips. “That cut deep, little mama.”
“Great. A regular Elvis Presley,” you say. “Just what I needed.” 
“Hey, I take offense to that,” Rooster says as lake water rolls off his tanned shoulders and down his arms. You’re trying not to stare, nose twitching with concentration. “I’m much more of a Jerry Lee Lewis type! It’s undeniable!”
“Cry about it,” you say. 
Smiling yourself, you bring your index finger to your eye and drag it down your face--mocking the rolling of a tear. 
Rooster laughs--a laugh that you can feel in the soles of your feet like it’s coming from deep inside of the earth, like it was born there just to die in the foundation of your body. 
“Only if you’re there to make it all better,” Rooster says. 
It feels like a challenge. 
You’re just about to lip something back when Maverick glances at his watch and cringes. Amelia has a ballet recital later and he doesn’t even want to think about what Penny will say if he’s more than five minutes late. 
He claps to draw both of your gazes to him.
“Here’s an idea. Why don’t you two get acquainted while I get some work done, huh? I’m in a crunch here. Give her a tour, Rooster! Introduce her to the flock! Finish that latrine!” Maverick lists as he starts for the Jeep again. He stops and turns quickly, a shit-eating grin plastered across his face. You wonder, momentarily, if he’s made of plastic. “And play nice, kids!”
You and Rooster look at each other for a long moment, each of you biting smiles, taking each other in as Maverick jogs back towards the Jeep with all the haste and grace of a prancing deer.  
“Who’re they?” You ask, nodding towards the water. 
He crosses his arms, stepping closer to you. 
“The others,” he says. 
“The others?” You mock. “Ominous.” 
“Coyote, Hangman, Fanboy, Payback, and Phoenix,” he answers. 
“Which one’s the girl?” You inquire, brows pinched. 
He grins at you. His lips are pink with enjoyment. 
“Guess,” he simply says. 
“I’ll go out on a limb here and say it isn’t Fanboy or Hangman,” you answer. He nods, amused. “Payback?” You ask. 
“Other P,” he says, impressed and delighted. 
“Damn,” you answer, tutting. “Phoenix, then.” 
“Bingo,” he tells you. 
“Nurse is a nickname,” you say finally, pressing your toe into the gravel. 
“So is Rooster,” he says, nodding. “Thank God.”
His Adam’s apple bobs. Something between your leg twitches--you want to know what that bobbing would feel like below your open mouth.  
Swallowing hard, you nod. 
“I know,” you say. “I was only kidding before.” 
“Yeah, me too,” Rooster says. “‘Cause no way you’re old enough to be a nurse.” 
“I’m not,” you say, crossing your arms. “But I’m old enough to be a counselor.” 
“Righteous,” Rooster says. He thinks for a moment and then slowly says your name, unraveling it from his memory like a fragile thread. “Right? Did I say it right?” 
“Yeah,” you answer. Your name coming off his tongue sounds ultra-casual and cool, like it’s just been said on the radio or over the loudspeaker on a beach. “But I’m gonna go out on a  limb here and deduce that everyone here gets a nickname.” 
“Are you studious or just one of those people?” He asks, pushing his wet hair back. 
You grin at him and warmth blossoms in his chest. You’ve got a pretty smile--especially this one that eats your whole face and scrunches your eyes. This one, the one he’s staring at, is harder to earn than the docile smile you wore on your way in. 
“Just one of those people?” You ask, eyebrow cocked. “Do tell me what kind of people you’re talking about.” 
“Well,” he says, stretching. “The kind of people that know everything.” 
“Ah,” you say, nodding. “A know-it-all, in other words.” 
“Hey, I never said that,” Rooster says, laughing. “You’re already putting words in my mouth!” 
Shrugging, you sigh. 
“Yeah, well--I already knew what you meant! Apparently.” 
He licks his lips. 
“So, you are one of those people then, huh?” He asks, his brow cocked identically. You blink at him, opening your mouth, when he suddenly stops you. “Wait a minute--don’t tell me. I wanna figure it out myself.”
You nod, pretending to zip your lips. 
“Game on,” you tell him. “You’ll report your findings by Labor Day, right?” 
“Right-o, captain!” He grins, saluting. 
Cringing, you sigh through your clenched jaw. 
“I’m hoping that one doesn’t stick,” you tell him. 
You imagine everyone having to call you--the newest counselor--Captain. Yuck and a half.  
Rooster imagines it, too, and laughs again. Hangman would get a real kick out of that.
“Consider it forgotten. Here, lemme get changed and I can finish the tour.” 
He starts for his cabin, nodding for you to follow, and you do. You don’t even know that you’re doing it--your feet are just picking themselves up and dropping themselves down on the gravel a few inches further from where they started. 
“Where’re you from?” You ask him, just to fill all the air around the two of you. 
He grins down at you. 
“Everywhere,” he says. 
Smiling, warm from the sun, you nod. 
“Military brat or on the lamb?” You ask. “Wait--don’t tell me. I wanna figure it out for myself!” 
He’s laughing again--that booming laugh that is like your own private earthquake. 
“The former,” Rooster says, laughing. “How about you?” 
“Here,” you answer, pointing to the ground. 
“Weird,” Rooster teases. “I’d think I’d have seen you before now since you’re local.” 
He opens the door to his cabin--cool air rushes out, kisses your cheeks. The air smells thicker in there--like mint and pine and vetiver. It’s an undeniable boyish smell, one that you can’t seem to get yourself to mind inhaling. 
Stepping over the threshold, you find yourself inside of his cabin for the first time. Everything is happening so fast--first you’re being whipped through the thick wilderness in a speedy Jeep, then you’re unloading non-perishable items with Maverick, and now you’re in Rooster’s cabin with him and he’s shirtless and flirting with you mercilessly. 
“I’m from just outside of Portland,” you answer distantly, glancing around at the bottles of half-empty colognes and random nail clippers and bandanas strewn about. “So, pretty much here.” 
“Ah,” Rooster answers. “A Maine native. What are y’all called again?”
“Mainers,” you answer. “You might be onto something with Maitive, though.”  
He grabs a towel that’s been drying on the back of a chair and begins to pat himself dry of the fat water droplets. He’s watching you look around the cabin, all your features seeped in delicate curiosity and a quiet sort of pleasure. He’s suddenly hyper aware of his unmade bed and mustache trimmings and unpacked duffel bag and the scraps of posters he was cutting earlier to hang on the wall above his bed. 
“So, you share with the kiddos?” You ask, nodding to the empty bunks. You know which bed is his--it’s the one in the corner that’s unmade, the one that is so heavy with his scent that you can practically see it wafting upwards in waves of amber and white. “What if they aren’t Deadheads?” 
He looks at you and you’re looking at The Grateful Dead poster he puts up every summer, the one that is faded from the sun and water damaged and older than most of the kids at camp. His old man had it hung in the hanger way back when--when he was still alive and young and flying with Mav.
Rooster lets the towel drop to the ground as he holds his hips, shrugging. 
“Then they’ve got a whole summer to become one,” he tells you. He looks you up and down again. “You a Deadhead?” 
“Please,” you say, nose wrinkling. “You ask every lady that?” 
“Just the ones trying to get in my bed,” he says. He glances at you and you’re indeed touching his sheets, freezing when you feel his gaze. “Go on--sit. Where are my hosting skills? Would you like anything? A water? Glass of wine?” 
You sink into his bed and the mattress squeaks with your weight--Rooster tries hard not to look at the plush skin of your thighs expanding on his sheets. 
“Got any Blue Nun?” You tease. 
“It’s chilling,” he says. “Would a lukewarm water bottle do in the meantime?” 
You nod. 
He grabs one out from under the bed and presents it to you like a fine wine. 
“It’s vintage,” he tells you. 
“What year?” 
“April of this one,” he says with a wink. 
You twist the cap off and he grabs a t-shirt from his duffel and slips it on. 
“Is it a bummer sharing with the kids?” You ask. You graze his pillow and then glance back up at the Polaroids on his walls. You can tell, even from where you’re sitting, that a few of them have been taken here. “You know, without privacy and everything.” 
“What would I need privacy for?” He asks, slipping into a pair of denim shorts. He is watching you as you scan the room, your hair a touch messier than it was before. “Usually can’t get any of the outside folk to trek through the wilderness for a slumber party.” 
“Outside folk?” You ask, brow perched. “You mean girls, right?” 
“Do you want me to mean girls?” He asks. 
Your face is hot. 
“You have a radio,” you say when you suddenly spot it perched on the windowsill. “Can I turn it on?” 
“Be my guest,” Rooster says, shrugging the towel around his shoulders. 
While your back is turned, he takes a few seconds to sweep away his mustache hairs from the dresser and tucks his duffel beneath one of the other bunks. 
You tune for a little while, listening with half a heart as you look out at the courtyard. 
“It’s really beautiful here,” you tell Rooster. “I don’t know if I’ll ever get over it.” 
“Trust me--you will,” Rooster sighs good-naturedly, leaning against the bunk opposite his bed. “Especially when you’re wrangling a bunch of ankle-biters.” 
You hum, shaking your head. 
“So, is it hard work?” You ask him, still tuning. “I mean, I’ve babysat and all that. But never anything like this.” 
He drinks you in--the sun is shining on you through the window, grainy from the film of dust on the glass. You’re smiling, peachy and warm, as you try and find a song to punctuate this moment the two of you are sharing. 
“Yeah, I mean--there are moments. You know?” Rooster asks. You nod, not looking at him. “For the most part, it’s chill. Super chill.” 
“Good,” you say. “I’m trying to save up, so it’s good to know I won’t wanna quit by July.” 
Rooster smiles. 
“What’re you saving up for?” He asks. “A radio of one’s own?” 
You grin. 
“Nursing school,” you say. “Made the mistake of telling Maverick that already.” 
“Yeah, no kidding,” Rooster laughs. 
You pause suddenly when Sugar Mountain by Neil Young begins. 
Pleased with your choice, you turn back to Rooster and find him biting a grin.
“What?” You ask. 
“You’re making fun of me for being a Deadhead and you’re a Rusty?” 
Warm all over, you nod. 
“Loud and proud,” you say. 
“Bold,” he tells you. “Super bold.” 
“Well, that’s me,” you tell him. “Bold.”
It's so noisy at the fair But all your friends are there And the candy floss you had And your mother and your dad
“I think you’re gonna fit in alright,” Rooster says decidedly. 
You turn your head to the side, swallowing a face-eating grin. 
“Oh, you do, do you?” You ask. He nods, eyebrows raised. “Hallelujah, the chicken thinks I’ll fit right in!”
He sits down beside you on the bed and you’re suddenly more aware than you’ve been since stepping into this cabin how beautiful he is. Curls still dripping onto his red t-shirt and tan skin smooth as it coats rippling muscles, you almost can’t breathe with him this close to you. 
“You’re really saving our asses this summer,” Rooster says, leaning back on his palms. You try not to look at his hands--his fingers spread out and gripping the sheets that his skin touches every night. “We desperately need another lady.” 
You can't be twenty on Sugar Mountain Though you're thinking that you're leaving there too soon You're leaving there too soon
“It shows,” you tease. “How has Phoenix survived all this time? It’s a real…testosterone-ified place.” 
“She’s survived by the skin of her teeth,” he tells you, smiling. “And by batting for the other team, if you’re picking up what I’m laying down.”
Oh. You nod. Okay. Cool. 
He looks to the radio and at the sheets--you’ve touched both these things now. Later, when he’s sharing you with everyone and you’re in your own cabin and everyone is excited, he’ll have this private part of you. Pieces of you, particles, that will stay his. 
You move to say something when you suddenly feel a sharp and distinct pain. Immediately, you draw your hand up from the bed, gasping. Your finger is bleeding--just a little bit, just a few drops. 
“Shit,” Rooster tuts, grabbing the scissors off the bed. His ears are bright red. “I’m so sorry--I totally forgot to throw these back on the dresser earlier.” 
“It’s alright,” you tell him hurriedly, cupping your hand. “Don’t let me bleed on your sheets!” 
He chucks the scissors and the land somewhere opposite of the bunks. Then he turns towards you, puts his hand out. 
“Let me see,” he insists. 
You do--immediately. 
He inspects the wound carefully. Just a little slice, a parting off your delicate skin and a few droplets of red coating it. He nods like he’s seen this all before. 
“It’s not deep,” he says. 
“I know,” you say with a soft smile. 
“I probably won’t get away with just spitting on it, though,” Rooster sighs, brows raised. 
Too flustered to say anything, you just shake your head. But you know, deep in your gut, he could get away with just about anything. Especially spitting on it.  
Rooster takes your water bottle and opens it with one hand, keeping your injured hand in his own. You watch him with half-lidded eyes, your pulse racing in your throat and beneath your tongue.
There's a girl just down the aisle Oh to turn and see her smile
“This won’t hurt,” he says, brows raised. He has the cadence of someone who’s used to bandaging up tikes--his concerned voice not without a fun lilt. “Squeeze me if it does, huh?” 
“I’m really getting the full treatment,” you say, tickled. “You must’ve run the other nurse outta town.” 
He pours some water over your cut and it drips into your own lap like pink nectar. 
“Tape,” he says. He looks up at you. “Stat!” 
“Watch it,” you warn, still smiling. You hand him the pale masking tape. “Not too tight.” 
“This ain’t my first rodeo, birdie,” he says. 
It’s natural--the name that falls from his lips. Like this isn’t his first time saying it. Like he’s uttered it to you over many summers, here and there, back then and in days to come. The feeling sits warmly on your tongue, peculiar and comforting. 
He wraps your finger and you watch with your heart in your throat. 
“Good as new,” you say, inspecting the tape job. “Didn’t hurt a lick!” 
“Good,” Rooster says. “You know, not to be a pig or anything, but I’m pretty good at this.” 
“Taping girls?” You ask, tilting your head and biting your lip. 
Rooster nearly chokes as he swallows, smiling and face freckled from the sunshine and so very warm. He brings his brows together dubiously, shrugging. 
“Do you want me to be good at that?” He asks.
Now you’re the one narrowing your eyes and chewing your bottom lip as you stare at him, wondering already how you’re going to survive this summer when he looks at you like that.   
“You’re pretty easy to like,” you tell him decidedly. 
“You aren’t too bad yourself,” he quips instantly. 
“Really?” You ask, slightly surprised. You’ve been accused, mostly from the peers in your clinicals, of being cold. Callous. But, really, you’re just focused. In the zone. Careful. Precise. You think that will count one day, will make you a good nurse. Rooster nods immediately, smiling with his brows knit. “Well. Thanks a million, then.” 
“What? People call you frigid?” Rooster asks, teasing. But then you nod and he leans back, surprised. “No way. Get outta town! You’re bluffing.”
Silky laughter falls from your lips--easy. It’s so easy to laugh around him. Despite the humor in all of this, you’re still warm. But it’s a warmth you welcome, like lying back on hot concrete after a long swim. Looking at him, laughing with him, it makes your stagnant limbs feel sore like you’ve been cutting water for hours. You can finally sit still, though. 
“They really do,” you say, only a little bit embarrassed. It feels a bit pathetic to argue this with him, like he knows you better than you know yourself. “What, like you even know me.” 
Rooster stiffens, a smile still tugging on his lips, as he crosses his arms defiantly. 
“Yeah, well, maybe I do know you,” he challenges. You’re wrestling a grin. “Try that on for size, Miss Know-It-All!” 
“A-ha! Guess you do have me figured out,” you say with a shrug. “Didn’t even take half the summer!” 
The two of you look at each other for a moment. And when the sun kisses his face, golden and warm, you get the overwhelming feeling that this is not your first time meeting him. No, it can’t be. You know those eyes and those flecks of gold that surround his pupils. You know the feeling of his hand on yours. You don’t know how you know these things, or why they’re tinged with pain like the delicate edges of antique paper rolling in on itself, but you just do. And you don’t even consider yourself a know-it-all.
Rooster holds onto your thighs, his thumbs pressing into your skin. 
“Oh. You’re here,” Rooster says in realization, chills running up his legs and halting in the pit of his knee. “I was--well, shit, I was--I was…waiting for you. Hi, birdie.”
He doesn’t look away from you, gauging your reaction. You’re blinking back at him slowly, brows coming together in an innocent confusion. But he can see in your eyes that you know him. He can see in your eyes that you’re here with him now the way he’s always here.  
“Hi,” you whisper. You glance around and everything is fuzzy and warm and pink. The radio is still playing in the corner. This is a memory, you realize. Memories are always tinted pink, which just happens with the passage of time. Like skin cells regenerating. Like cuts scabbing. “Are we…where are--?” 
“Camp Arcadia,” Rooster answers. “Your memory of it, at least.” 
“My very first memory of it,” you whisper to him, glancing around the cabin. And, yes, everything is exactly as you remembered. Even the discarded scissors in the corner. Even the tape around your finger and the heartbeat in your neck. “And my first memory of you.” 
Cupping his cheek, you thumb at the damp stubble on his cheeks. 
“I never dream about you,” you whisper to him, holding his cheeks in your hands.
“You dream about me all the time,” he tells you carefully. “You just don’t remember.” 
It must be true if he’s telling it to you. You know this. Maybe the nightmares have been drowning out all the goodness that happens behind your eyelids. 
“What makes this time different?” You whisper. 
“Usually you aren’t sleeping under anesthesia,” he whispers back. “What’d you call it? The meperidine haze? That’s a good one, baby. Very psychedelic.”
Yes, he’s right. The meperidine haze. You’re not really here, at camp, baking in the sun and inhaling vetiver and mint and pine. No, you’re laid out on top of an operating table and the stranger is breaching and you’re artificially asleep. Really, you couldn’t be further from this moment you’re living right now. Why this faux one feels so much more grounded than reality stupifies you.  
Looking down at your hand and they’re the hands of a twenty-year-old girl halfway through her bachelor’s degree. The rubber ring you will lose on your twenty-first birthday is sitting snug on your pinkie, safe for now. Your knuckles are free from scars and cracks acquired at the hospital. There are so few indentations on your hands, lines pressed there by age and work and life.
You suddenly feel so much older than you were in that moment--older than you really are. You quietly begin to cry. 
Rooster leans into your touch, smiling fondly at you. He’s missed these palms, these fingers. He doesn’t mind looking at you, meeting you, teasing you over and over again. Sometimes you remember him and other times you don’t. Most of the time, you don’t. He doesn’t mind--he always plays along, never misses a line. Anything to just be near you again--to be held by you. Even if he knows he isn’t real, even if he knows he’s just a figment of your imagination.
“I don’t understand,” you tell him. 
He knows he can’t say anything to make you understand something he only distantly understands himself. So, he just kisses your fingers. 
You can't be twenty on Sugar Mountain Though you're thinking that you're leaving there too soon You're leaving there too soon
“Is this where you are?” You ask him. “Here? Forever?” 
“It’s where you want me to be,” he answers you. “But only on this day. The first day.” 
“Rooster, I--!” 
A sob rips from your throat. He holds tight to your legs, still smiling sadly up at you. 
He knows that he is dead. He knows that you are dreaming. He knows what’s happening on the outside and the inside. He isn’t real. He knows that. But it all feels very real in this moment--he has the sudden and overwhelming urge to hold onto you tight, even if he knows it won’t stop you from going. He wants to dig his nails into your body until he meets bone. He wants to keep you here with him in this obscurity, when you’re both young and untouched by horror. 
You don’t belong here, though. This--this he knows in the depths of his body, in the arches of his feet. You belong on the outside, in the real world, where your skin gets bruised and scarred and your chest rises and falls. 
“Don’t spoil it,” he tells you, thumbing some tears from your cheeks. He swallows all the metal in his mouth and smiles at you sadly. “Just be here with me.” 
Another sob wriggles out from your lips, but you nod. You’ll do whatever he wants.
“You’re so young,” you marvel, stroking his face. “I can’t believe it. Really, I--I hardly remember you looking so…boyish.”
“You’re pretty young yourself,” he whispers with a smile. “In the springtime of your life. Or whatever the poet’s say.” 
If this was the springtime of your life, you wonder what season you’re in now. Surely winter hasn’t come so quickly, even if it feels that way. You’re not in the summer or the autumn, though. 
You’re in-between. 
A blizzard in April. 
Another beat passes and you still drink him in, unable to tear your eyes away from his dripping curls or his sweet gaze. It has been a long, long time since you’ve thought about this day. It has been a long, long time since you’ve thought about this first meeting with Bradley. You cannot afford to linger in hurtful memories such as this one--not after everything.  
“I miss you,” you whisper. Another sob sits pert in your throat. “I miss you more than…more than anything in the world. I miss you all the time. I have so much I wanna talk about.”
Bradley’s chest tightens. If he was being completely honest right now, he’d tell you the same. But he can see how hard you’re trying to stop crying, can see the tears beginning to breach your waterline. 
“I’m always around,” he says and you know that he means here, as a figment of your imagination, in your dreams. “Just close your eyes and poof! There I am.”
“I think about you,” you tell him, nodding and sniffling and trying not to cry again. “When I can afford it. When I can stand it.”
He nods solemnly, chewing on his bottom lip. 
“Oh, yeah? Like when?” He asks. He tries to sound not-so-severe, tries to sound teasing and sweet. But his voice is flat and his tone is serious. 
Choking back another sob, one that makes your nose ache, you hold onto him tighter.
“Every time I hear The Police,” you say and a dry laugh crumbles from your lips and into your lap like peeling drywall. “Which is, like, all the time now.” 
He laughs--his eyes are wet. 
“Yeah, I bet,” he says.
“And whenever…whenever I feel them move,” you tell him and you mean the baby and he knows that. Cautiously, you move to hold your belly. And, yes, it’s empty--just like it really actually was when you were twenty. Rooster watches the movements, chews on his bottom lip. “Whenever they kick or-or elbow or…”
He can fill in the blanks. Whenever they roll, whenever they hiccup, whenever they flex, whenever they stretch, whenever they twitch. What you mean is that every time you feel the physical evidence of the life inside of you, you think of the man who put it there. 
He nods, jaw clenched. He can’t say anything for a moment. He’s certain the dam will break. He’s certain he will hold onto your legs and never release you. 
So, then it’s quiet for a moment. Neil Young is still crying quietly on the windowsill. 
“I love this song. I forgot it was playing,” you whisper to him. The two of you look at the radio together. “Was it really playing?” 
You’re wondering if Dr. Titus is playing the radio during your operation. Yes, operation. You’re being operated on. Right now, you’re not really sitting on Bradley’s bed at Camp Arcadia. You aren’t really breathing in clean, clean air. You’re breathing in oxygen from a mask and antiseptics.  
“Yeah, it was,” Rooster answers. “And you really made fun of me for being a Deadhead.” 
“Warranted,” you whisper, a few tears streaming down your face. “You kinda ruined me, though.” 
“In what way?” Rooster asks, hoping the answer isn’t the obvious one. 
“I remember that after this--after this moment, this conversation--I stopped changing the station when they came on the radio,” you say and it’s the honest truth. You’ve never told anyone this. “Ripple isn’t half bad, you know.”
That’s when a few tears slip down Bradley’s face. He’s still smiling--just barely--and he nods a few times.
“Will you show them?” He whispers. 
You know what he means--will you show your child the music he so loved?
“Of course,” you tell him, sniffling. “But no promises they’ll be a Deadhead.”
“Their dad sure was,” he whispers. A few more tears slip down as his bottom lip quivers. “Just like my dad was.” 
“Runs in the family,” you say quietly.  
So does having your old man croak, I guess, Bradley thinks. Must be fate.
You hold his cheeks, thumb his tears away. You wonder, marvel almost, at how real this all feels. This is what his face felt like that day all those years ago, freshly-shaven and smooth and boyish. Untainted by time and its pinkness. 
The feeling comes on suddenly--starting in your toes and shooting up your shins, your knees, your thighs. 
“I’m cold,” you whisper to Bradley.  
Rooster nods, flat palms grazing your goosed skin. He wipes a few of his tears away. 
“It’s just a side effect,” he tells you. You nod. You know that shivering--that your temperature falling--is a commonplace issue during deep sedation and general anesthesia. “It’s almost over, you know.” 
“Yeah,” you whisper. “Emergency cesareans are usually pretty speedy.”
He imagines what you really look like right now--laid out on the table, cut open, bleeding. It seems so utterly against your grain to take something so heinous lying on your back. He feels like you could be the first person to ever elect to be awake during a major surgery, blinking up at the ceiling and gritting your teeth and meditating through the pain. 
“You’re having a baby right now,” he says and incredibility drips from his tone like honey. “Our baby. How trippy is that?” 
Belly turning, fingers quivering, you nod. 
Yes, you’re not really here. You’re not really here. 
“I’m scared,” you admit quietly. It’s the first time you’ve said it out loud in almost ten months. Rooster looks up at you, listening and watching and waiting. “I’m so scared.”
He doesn’t ask why. He doesn’t need to. Maybe it’s because he understands--or maybe it’s because he’s you and you’re him. 
“I wish I was there with you. I wish I…I wish I could’ve stayed. For you. For the baby,” he tells you. “I wish I could hold them,” he admits. 
It’s silly. You’ve wanted nothing more than to not hold them, than for them to be removed from your body. You’ve held them for nine months. You’re tired--anyone would be. But Rooster--Rooster will never get to hold his child. Not even in your dreams. 
“I wish you could, too,” you whisper. 
There is so much more he could say. He could say that he considers himself the luckiest man in his recent knowledge for having you as fleetingly as he did. He could say that his version of Hell is watching from far away, where he is now, and not being able to touch you. He could say that he hopes the baby looks a lot like you and a little like him so they don’t break your heart. He could say that he’s always thought of the name Ruth fondly and he’s never like the whole Junior thing for boys. He could tell you how much you meant to him, that he’s never felt alone, that he never did feel alone. He could tell you how sorry he is for dying, for leaving you behind pregnant with his child. He could tell you how much it hurts that his child will grow up without him. 
He won’t break your heart today--the day your child is born. So, he just kisses your hands and feels the bones delicately pressing against your skin. He holds you tight. 
“Do you think I can, like…do you think I have what it takes?” You whisper. 
Rooster doesn’t laugh. He doesn’t tease. He just nods very solemnly. 
“Of course I do,” he answers. “I don’t really have a doubt.”
“Not a single one?” You whisper. 
Now he solemnly shakes his head. 
“Afraid not,” he whispers back.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t do more,” you utter to him. The seams on his wrists are pressed against the back of your eyelids for eternity--the jagged, loose slices that didn’t hold for more than a few minutes. “I wish I could--I would do it differently if I could do it again.” 
“I wouldn’t,” he whispers. He shakes his head. “I couldn’t have…” 
Lived with himself. You both know it. 
You kiss his fingers, try and remember the way they smell right now. Like lakewater and skin and wood. 
“We would’ve been good together, huh?” 
“Yeah,” you whisper. “Yeah. Maybe we would’ve.” 
The song is almost over. 
Now you say you're leaving' home 'Cause you want to be alone Ain't it funny how you feel When you're findin' out it's real?
“Is he good to you?” Rooster whispers.
He’s talking about Jake.  
“The best,” you whisper back, nodding. “I love him. But not like I loved you.” 
There is no way to measure these things--more or less, bigger or smaller, wilder or calmer. There is just love and different love. That’s all.
Rooster is choked up. 
“Birdie?” He whispers. 
“Yeah?” You whisper. 
“Can I hold you?” 
Without another moment of hesitation, you fall into his arms. You slip off the bed and into his lap and he wraps his arm around you and you wrap your arms around him. You’re overwhelmed by his heat, by his scent, by his breathing. There is salt and there is cloth as the two of you mold against each other. 
Really, in these younger bodies, you didn’t hold each other like this. The first summer was chalk-full of merciless flirting and stolen glances and chaste touches. You never fell into his arms like this, a desperate heap, and cried into the red t-shirt that was still wrinkled from his duffel. 
It is not in your nature to beg. It never has been. There are very few times in your life where you’ve resorted to it and Bradley was there for most of them, a figure looming or a warm body near you. The urge to beg right now--for him to hold you so tight that you can’t breathe, for him to keep you here with him forever, to stay--sits like a lump in your throat. 
“I miss you,” you say instead of please, please, please. Your teeth chatter and you hold him tighter. “I miss you so much.”
“I know,” he whispers, voice strained. “I know.” 
You look at him--really look at him. It feels like it is the last time you will ever see him. It feels like you’re on your knees in the mess hall and you’re about to pull a sheet over his face, like Joni Mitchell is dying on your tongue again. It feels like you’re standing in a morgue and you’re worried about him growing lonesome and cold. You’re crying too hard to memorize his nose or his sun kissed cheeks or the stubble on his chin. You just look at him and let your vision grow blurry with tears. 
“Bird,” he whispers, brows drawn together in a happy sort of anguish. 
Your entire body is cold now. The shivering is coming from deep within your connective tissue and marrow and nerves. 
“Bradley,” you whisper. His name dies on your tongue.  
“She’s waiting for you,” he tells you.
Something is tugging you backwards--like an invisible rope made of your own hair, a strong wind made of your own perfume. 
“Who?” You ask. 
He kisses your hands. His mouth lingers there--his breath is warm, his mustache is neatly trimmed. It is all so achingly familiar, so achingly real.
“Our daughter.” 
Two days blink by. 
Well, really, they don’t blink by. They slink past Jake at an agonizing pace, like he is seeped in gelatinous animal fat. He used to like slow days--days that were dipped in honey, when the two of you were suspended in a quiet sort of sweetness--and the way they crawled forward. 
But this diverges severely from that sweetness. It’s harder to move. He feels, for all intents and purposes, like he’s rotting. Decaying. 
They brought you back into the room sometime between the afternoon and evening the next day. You’d spent a night in recovery, completely sedated, and been given two blood transfusions. The doctor explained something about injections, something about vitamins and narcotics, but Jake was having a hard time hearing because he was holding her.
Every time he held her--the baby girl you brought into this world with your eyes closed--his ears rang. It was like someone was firing a shotgun pressed against Jake’s cheek, like the kickback had sent him reeling and buckshot had deafened him.  
He was still on the phone with his ma whenever the nurse wheeled an incubator in. It was only an hour after the flurry of white coats and scrubs that wheeled you out of the room, and he was still trying to catch his breath between broken sentences. 
The nurse was whistling joyously like everything was hunky-dory, smiling down at the baby girl inside the glass. She glanced at Jake, smiling, and cleared her throat as she parked the incubator by the guest chair. 
“Delivery!” The nurse sang. 
Jake turned at once, eyes wide and wet and still crying. 
“What--?” 
He nearly fell out of the chair when the incubator registered. The phone slipped from his hands, hung on its cord and bounced like a plastic bungee jumper. His mama was still on the other line, southern drawl thick as she tried to get his attention.
“--Here she is! The lady of the hour!” She sing-songed, presenting the bulky machinery like a rare cut of steak at some snobby restaurant. He imagined the baby lying on a silver platter on a bed of inedible greens and the nurse pulling away the dome cover, wafting the scent of baby powder and milk towards him. “Your baby girl!” 
Jake was frozen. There he sat, his hands empty and his face red and blotchy, and there the baby was only a few feet in front of him. The room changed--a small change, like being attuned to the frequency adjustment of a television--and he suddenly felt warm all over. 
“My--my what?” He asked. “That’s--you mean it’s a girl? Mine?”
Quickly, glancing down, she read the label on the side of the incubator carefully. 
Baby Girl Seresin. 
“You’re Mr. Seresin, right?” She asked, suddenly feeling faint. 
He nodded slowly, the lump in his throat impossibly large. 
Her shoulders relaxed--she should’ve known better. She’s never mixed babies up before. 
“All yours, daddy. Trust me, you’ll get proof of purchase at check-out,” she said jovially. She hummed, leaning down to tuck the white blanket beneath the baby’s chin. Already the nurse was touching her with such conviction, like they were old friends, like this little creature lying and crying wasn’t the reason Jake’s shoulders were stuck pinched by his ears. “And, yes--a girl. A blushing baby girl.” 
He stared at the incubator. Yes, he could see her there. He could see that little nose and those big cheeks and those closed eyes. He could see her tiny face finally. He’d dreamed about her--about what she’d look like, about who she’d be. And she was finally there, right there. 
But you weren’t.  
“What’s going--is she okay? Is--is Gale okay--?” 
The nurse’s cheeks flooded red, her smile dying slightly. She cleared her throat, looking down at the baby girl before her. She wished Jake would look down at the baby girl, too. Babies make everything better--they soften the blow with their ruddy cheeks and little lips and curled fingers. 
“So, before the operation, she suffered what we call a placental abruption. Now, a--well, a placental abruption is when the placenta detaches from the uterine wall. In layman’s terms, it means that the baby couldn’t breathe--hence all the hullabaloo before the operation. But baby is okay--her levels are great and she gave us a good and loud cry when she was born,” the nurse explained softly, smiling at the thought of the baby’s first piercing cry. Even after all this time, all these years and these births and these babies, it still felt like a bell that called her home. “Passed all her tests with flying colors.”
 Jake’s knees felt weak at the thought of the baby crying for the first time, suddenly in the air above your open abdomen and in a stranger’s hands and covered in your blood, and him not hearing it. He didn’t hear it. He was all the way in there, talking to his mama, and you were in there alone and asleep and bleeding. 
The nurse sucked in a deep breath and met Jake’s gaze. She hated this part. Her palms were clammy as she slid them down the front of her nurse’s uniform, swallowing thickly and straightening her shoulders. 
“Now, because of the sudden separation, mama’s uterine wall got knocked around quite a bit,” she explained. “Which, in layman’s layman terms, means that it poked a big ol’ hole. That can cause--well, it can cause a slew of issues, including internal bleeding, which we want to avoid at all costs. Obviously.”  
Jake’s mind was racing--images and sounds and feelings and smells swirling around him, flitting past in milliseconds. Behind his eyes, his veins throbbed and pulsed. 
“Okay. Okay--what does that mean? Like, you mean, she’s gonna be alright?” 
The nurse sucked on the back of her teeth shortly, wishing there was something she could say or do to ease Jake's worries. But she couldn’t. She knew this. 
“Her uterus experienced very severe trauma during delivery. It was already weakened from carrying to full-term and prior medical history. So, with all of that in mind, Dr. Titus went ahead and did a full-fledged hysterectomy. Well, he’s still--it’s still happening now. It was touch-and-go for a while there,” she said softly, nodding at Jake with soft, soft eyes. And what she meant by that was that your heart rate had dropped dangerously low after the baby was born. So low that it had been considered a Code Blue. “But she’s a tough cookie. Right? We’ll bring her back in after her time in recovery.” 
Jake didn’t know what to say or do. 
He was being turned inside out by grief. There you were, short corridors and white tiles and chrome door knobs and metal chairs separating your body from his, and you were being dissected. A part of you had been killed by the little baby in front of him, faultlessly, and was being cut out. 
“No, you decided it. And never for a second have I second-guessed it,” Jake says. You’re watching him with big, soft eyes. “I’ve been game from day one. I…Gale, I love that baby already. I’m all in. But are you?”
“Ask me that tomorrow,” you whisper. 
Something heavier than guilt and thicker than anguish slammed down on top of Jake’s head, grabbed him by the ears, and forced him back into the chair he was sitting in. The nurse watched him cautiously, just then noting the crutches beside him. 
“When is she coming back?” He heard himself ask. 
“No telling,” the nurse said. She wished she had a more concrete answer--she knew how awful it must be to be on the outside of it all, waiting and worrying and wringing your hands together. “We’ll keep you posted. Hell, between me and you, I’ll keep you posted. That’s a promise. Okay?” 
Jake nodded flatly. 
“In the meantime, I thought I’d bring this little angel in to keep you company,” she’d said, then. A weight was lifted from her chest as Jake looked down at the baby for the first time properly--that was usually the part they melted. And she watched him melt--watched his shoulders fall and his brows slope and his lips tremble. “Ain’t she a beaut?” 
Jake’s jaw trembled. 
“Is she…is she okay?” Jake asked, eyebrows furrowed. He suddenly couldn’t stand the prospect of something happening to your baby girl, too. Already he loved her so much--she only just got here. She couldn’t leave. “She’s not…she isn’t hurt or anything, right?” 
The nurse smiled at him, prideful by proxy. 
“Healthy as a ham,” she confirmed. “All seven pounds of her are perfect.” 
“Seven even?” Jake mused, unable to stop himself from smiling. 
The nurse nodded. 
“It’ll be her lucky number,” the nurse offered. 
Seven. Seven’s have followed him all his life. 
He was born on the seventh of June, the fifth child, which rounded out his family unit to a party of seven. 
On his seventh birthday, the song Crystal Blue Persuasion debuted on the radio and he thought, very concretely, that he was the luckiest kid on the planet. Who got to share a birthday with the song of the decade? 
He graduated college on the seventh of December, a semester later than the rest of his friends. 
And you--he saw you for the very first time on the seventh of May at Camp Arcadia. 
You were standing just up the gravel hill, talking to Maverick with your hands on your hips. The sun was so blinding that he had to squint and hold his hand over his eyes. He could see from the water that your feet and calves were covered in gray gravel dust--kicked up your shins, coating your knees. He watched you for a long time, ignoring Coyote’s splashing and Phoenix’s diving and the beating sun, watching your lips curve around every word that fell from your mouth. His spine suddenly prickled when your calves flexed and your belly tightened with laughter, when you smiled and the sun kissed your cheeks and sweat dripped down the column of your spine. He didn’t even mind that Rooster was the one who’d made you laugh, standing across from you with his arms crossed over his damp chest. 
Things just melted away. Things like long division and baseball scores and Pink Floyd lyrics and urban legends and the memory of his tenth birthday--they were all gone, dissolving, pooling out of his ears. Nothing else besides this one thought sitting fat and proud in the soft shell of his skull: I want to wash the dust off her. 
He had never thought anything like that before. It made his jaw quiver. 
“What’re you looking at?” Coyote had finally inquired, hooking a sopping arm over Jake’s warm shoulders. Coyote turned, noticed you, then smiled. “Hey! Fresh meat.”
Jake didn’t look away from you. 
“Javy,” Jake said seriously, evenly. He sucked in a deep breath, brows knitting. “I’m gonna marry her.” 
“Yeah, good luck,” Javy had said back, chortling. “Girl wore her flip-flops on a hike.”  
“It’s my lucky number, too,” Jake said quietly to the nurse, unable to stop himself. His brows knit. “Seven.”
“Aw, are you trying to impress daddy?” The nurse sang jovially down to the baby, a grin splitting her features. “You planned this, huh? Didn’t you?”
Jake swallowed hard, reeling. 
“She’s so quiet,” he whispered to the nurse. He was the youngest child--he wasn’t ever around fussy baby sisters or even cranky cousins. 
She glanced up at him, nodding. 
“Just wait ‘til it’s time to change her diaper--that’ll get her hollering,” she said. She kept watching Jake and his clenched jaw. “Would you like to hold her? I can bring her to you--I see you’re a bit disposed currently.” 
She pointed to the crutches. 
Jake swallowed hard, his tongue suddenly made of sandpaper. 
“Okay,” he said, too scared to say anything else.
“Go ahead and take your shirt off,” the nurse instructed Jake, not taking her eyes off Baby Girl Seresin as she carefully cradled her head. Jake blinked at her, brows furrowed. “We call it skin-to-skin or Kangaroo Care if you’re a fun nurse like me--the hours after birth are crucial for bonding. Best to do that with her skin on your skin.” 
Jake nodded, slowly moving to slip out of his sweatshirt.
The nurse turned, cradling your baby in her plush arms, and Jake had never felt so small in his entire life. He sat still, skin goosing from the cold air, and watched the nurse move towards him with the bundle of blanketed baby in her arms. 
“Just hold her head now,” the nurse urged as she transferred the baby into his arms. 
“Like--?” Jake said, red in the face and neck and chest. “Like that?” 
The baby was against his body, her little cheek pressed up against his collarbone, her tiny body sinking into his chest and stomach. He didn’t hear the nurse’s answer--he didn’t need to. As soon as his body registered her heat, the heat of a tiny and most precious human life, he knew the answer. 
Yes, he was holding her right. He knew how to hold his daughter. It came to him suddenly and naturally, which people said would happen. He cradled her head with all that soft hair, which was the color of yours, and carefully touched her plush cheek. 
“Oh,” he whispered quietly. Two fat tears rolled down his face and onto his neck. “Well, you’re just a tiny thing, aren’t you? You’re just a…a little mite.”
She whined, shuddered against him, before her body relaxed into him. 
The nurse softly situated the blanket so it covered the two of them, pink with joy, and watched on for a few moments as Jake craned to look down at his daughter’s face. She knew he was gonna be a crier from the moment she laid eyes on him. She’s always privately vindicated when she’s correct about these things--some sort of nonverbal reinforcement that she’s meant for this.  
He wasn’t sure how long the nurse stayed after that--his ears were ringing too loud for him to hear anything outside of the baby girl’s breaths. 
He held her close, back teeth still clenched, and overwhelmed by her scent. She smelled like you--like your skin, your body. He knew, just from holding her, that you had held her. Held her close, inside of your body, closer to you than anything or anyone ever had been. 
Already he could see you in her face--your brow, your nose, your mouth. 
“My, my,” Jake whispered. It was funny--he had never been the kind of guy who said my-my before. His dad was the kind of guy to say my-my. Or maybe, Jake thought, every dad is the kind of guy that says it. A sad smile tugged on his lips. “Aren’t you just--just pretty as a picture? You look just like your mama. And your mama is the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen in my whole life. Can you believe that? Huh? Well, I’m no liar. I really mean it.”
She whined shortly, brow furrowing. He moved her down so her cheek was resting between his pecs, her little lips puckered and parted.
“I would’ve shaved for you if I’d known,” he whispered weakly, stray tears rolling off his chin and onto her hospital blanket. He stroked her cheek as she continued to slumber. “I’m sorry, baby-lou.” 
People have been in and out of the hospital room since, filtering like transients. 
A nurse comes every hour to check your vitals, fiddling with your IV stand, pressing buttons on the machines beside your bed, smiling apologetically when the baby cries. 
Doctors do their rounds in the morning and at night, talking about you and your condition just outside the door, giving Jake a curt nod in greeting.
And in between all of the people, the masks and the gloves and the hand sanitizer, Jake sits at your bedside with the baby tucked close to him. Everything is sterile and white and your oxygen is a constant hum in the background.
It’s late at night now--so late at night that it’s really almost morning--and Jake is slumped in the chair beside your bed. The baby is asleep just beside him in the incubator, lying on her back and dreaming silently. She’s a good baby--quiet. Peaceful. But he still won’t be more than a few feet away from her at any time--Hell, he won’t be more than a few inches away from her at any time. 
Here he is, then. Sitting between his girls, both of them sleeping, waiting for something to happen. 
“She should gain consciousness at any time,” he heard the doctor say that morning during rounds. “The extended loss of consciousness is due to the trauma sustained during operation.”
Your face is placid. You hardly wrinkle your nose or crinkle your brow or frown or do much of anything at all. You just sleep, reclined, wrapped up in tubes and wires and cords. 
Beneath his aching fingers, your hair is soft. He strokes it carefully away from your face so it falls over the pillow, wishing he could smell your shampoo from here. He wishes he could smell any of you right now. You smell like the hospital now--more than you do after a twelve-hour shift. 
He wonders what’s going on beneath your eyelids--if you’re dreaming or if there’s nothing like you’re sitting in a pool of black water. He hopes that you’re dreaming. Sweet, sweet dreams about all the summers before last, about all the almost-good days you’ve had since May. And if you’re not having sweet dreams, he hopes you’re just resting. That you’re just catching up on all the sleep you’ve missed having to sleep on your side, curling around a belly you resented. 
“I hope you’re havin’ good dreams in there,” Jake whispers to you. He sniffles, itches his nose. He keeps trying not to cry--not once with success. “Like when we drove all around town, grabbing furniture from the curb. I’m still shocked you could pick that table up by yourself. I shouldn’t be, though--I don’t know why I haven’t learned by now. You’re stronger than me. Like, way stronger. Stronger than I’ll ever be.” 
Nothing. No response. Just sleep.
He glances at the baby girl beside him--she’s still sleeping peacefully. He’ll have to wake her up in an hour or so to feed her. She’s a pensive little thing when he gives her a bottle. She furrows her brow as she gazes up at him, somewhere between cranky and grateful, trying to figure him out the same way he’s trying to figure her out. He feels like he’s being sized up each time he feeds her--it reminds him of you. When you look at him, it isn’t just that you see him--you see right through him, too, as if he’s just a piece of thin membrane you cohabitate with. He’ll always be honest with you and her because he knows dishonesty wouldn’t even get as far as the front door. 
Now he looks back at you. No change again. 
He keeps hoping that one of these times he looks away, he’ll return his gaze to you and find that you’re already looking at him. He bides his time, measures the movements of his eyes, when he isn’t looking at you to give you enough time to come to. Hoping. Praying. 
But no change. 
“I want you to wake up,” Jake whispers, voice trembling. “I know that you’re tired and I know that you could probably sleep for the next--for the next millennium and still be exhausted, but I want you to wake up, honey. C’mon, girly--wake up now. Wake up for me--wake up for her. You’ve got--we’ve got a daughter and you haven’t even met her yet. Well, maybe you have--like somewhere in the cosmos--but I don’t feel like that counts. So c’mon now and open your eyes. I wanna…I wanna talk to you. I wanna tell you that I’m sorry for picking a fight, that I’m--!” 
Jake thinks about the blue light in the bedroom and the way it goosed your skin, chilled the marrow in your bones. He wishes he could puncture that moment, like a needle sinking into a balloon, and let all the cold air out. He wishes he could wrangle the sun and pull it close to you, close enough to burn the tip of your nose and make the hair on your head hot to the touch. He wishes he could just stop thinking about the argument--everything he said, everything you didn’t say. He just wishes you would wake up. 
“Just wake up. Please.”
Without stirring at all, face calm and still, you wake up. It happens suddenly, like someone’s just said your name. 
It is still dark and blue and pink and quiet. The snow is still falling outside the window and you’re still numb from below your chest, so your breaths are heavy and unreal. It’s still night--or, at least, it looks like it is. 
Jake is sitting just beside the bed--you can imagine him pulling it all the way out and plopping down in it with his hair askew and his breathing hard--tears slipping down his cheeks and his brow furrowed as he strokes the back of your hand. 
“What?” You whisper. Your voice is ragged and crumpled--this is when you know that it’s been a long time since you’ve spoken. Probably days. 
Jake’s head snaps up--his face is suddenly facing yours. 
“Baby?” He asks, on the edge of his seat as he reaches forward to fuss with your hair and your cheeks. He cups your chin, carefully navigating around the nasal cannula. “You wakin’ up, girly? Are you confused?” 
He doesn’t know what you’re saying what about. 
The muscles beneath your skin unfold like pressed flowers, brittle and delicate, as you reach up and wipe a tear from his chin. It’s a small and stray one. You weakly present the finger to him, the pad wet and glistening with salt, then nod. 
“Did they find cancer or something?” 
And it seems like precisely the moment Jake finally lets go. You don’t know how you know, but you know suddenly that he has been the cracking wall that’s held everything together, standing up straight and tall against thousands of pounds of dirt and water to protect the pristine valley below. 
But he lets go now--his sobs suddenly puncturing the stale air in the hospital room, rousing the hair on your arms and legs and the phantom searing burn in your underwear. 
He stands--it isn’t an easy thing to Jake Seresin to do, especially after missing a physical therapy appointment yesterday. But he does it, does it for you, locking his knees and gripping the metal rails on your hospital bed. 
“I’m so happy,” he tells you and his Southern accent sounds thick right now--you know he gets like this when he’s been talking to his mama. 
Okay; you know you must’ve been out for a while and he must’ve been calling his mama. You can deduce this. Make an educated guess. 
He’s rapidly stroking your hair, in utter disbelief that you’re here again with him. It has only been two days without you--which is only forty-eight hours--but that is enough to make Jake feel like you’ve been out for an entire lifetime. Even one hour without you is one hour too long. 
“Baby, I’m so happy,” he mutters over and over again, kissing your face--your eyelids, your nose, your ears, your cheeks, your chin. “I’m so fuckin’ happy.” 
Reality is beginning to dawn on you now. It’s been days. Days since they cut the baby from your womb. You’re doped up enough to not feel anything at all, and you know they only give the good stuff when it’s serious. This must be serious. 
Looking down, beyond the flurry of blonde hair and salt and skin, you see the deflated pit of your belly. Yes, the little stranger is gone. All that remains is the excess skin and fat and fluid that kept them warm and safe and quiet. 
“Are you okay?” You ask Jake. 
Jake holds both of your cheeks, presses his forehead against yours. Your face is wet with his saliva, his tears. He kisses your dry lips a few times. 
“I’m the happiest guy around,” he tells you. “You’re awake.” 
“Has it been that long?” You ask, straining and willing yourself to just know how much time has passed. 
“Two days since they took you,” he tells you. “We were just waiting for you to wake up. Me and the little lady.”
Something punctures you--it feels like an ax. Sharp blade digging into the skin of your chest, snapping your bones, stopping the precise beats of your heart. But then it makes you warm all over your body, warm from the tips of your ears to the soles of your feet. 
You have a daughter. Just like Susie told you that you would. Just like Bradley told you that you did. 
A daughter. 
Jake realizes what he’s said to you and watches as your face falls--fuck. He meant to tell you slower than this, meant to break the ice. He didn’t mean to throw you into the middle of it. 
Two tears roll down your cheeks and he thumbs them away, tutting. 
“A girl?” You whisper. “We have…a girl?” 
“Yeah,” Jake answers, unable to bite the grin on his lips. “We do. A little mite--seven pounds even, eighteen inches long. She’s…well, she’s a mite. Tiny. Tinier than anything ever in the world. We’re gonna have to bathe her in a spoon.” 
 That makes you cry harder--you don’t know why. Maybe it’s because you’re scared or maybe it’s because you’re in love or maybe you’re scared to be in love. You don’t know. But you clutch him. 
“Is she…?” 
“She’s healthy,” he answers even though that is not the question you’re asking. 
All the same, you nod. Petrification sits coiled in your belly like a slick snake. 
He doesn’t want to pop the pink bubble you’re in right now, overwhelmed with goodness and graciousness that you’re finally awake, so he doesn’t say anything about the complications. He knows you’ll ask--and when you do, he’ll tell you. But for now, he just wants to be close to you and watch your pupils dilate in the dark room. 
“Can you believe it?” Jake asks, sniffling. “A baby girl. A girl!”
Unable to speak, you just shake your head. 
But you can believe it. You don’t know what happened and you don’t know where you went or why you didn’t stay, but you know that Bradley told you the truth. Your daughter, the one he gave you, was waiting on you. 
Carefully, you peer over his shoulder. And, yes, right beside the chair he was sitting in is the incubator. It’s a big and bulky piece of machinery, but inside there is a little tiny baby’s face peeking out from a white cotton blanket. Her eyes are closed. Your toes are numb. 
Jake follows your gaze. 
“Do you wanna hold her?” He asks softly. 
“No,” you answer quickly. “I’m still numb.” 
Your arms aren’t numb--you could hold her. But you’re too afraid that she’ll open her eyes, that she’ll look at you, that you’ll know. Then what will you do? You never got this far in any nightmare. 
Jake nods, kissing your forehead again. 
“Okay,” he whispers. “Okay, baby. That’s fine. That’s all good.” 
Jake isn’t in the room. He left only a few minutes ago, crutches tucked beneath his arms and hands holding your empty dinner tray, pleased as ever before that you were awake with an appetite and sitting up in bed. He kissed your face one thousand times, grinning, before leaving his girls alone to make some calls in the hallway. 
So, it’s just you and her now. She’s still sleeping in her incubator, all tucked in, which has been pulled up against the side of your bed so you can hold her when you’re ready. You know that Jake is eager for you to hold her--you know that it’s what he’s dreamed about for the past nine months. 
But the potential horror of it all is sitting in your throat, making it hard to swallow. You won’t survive another summer like the one before. And if you take her in your arms, if you look into those eyes and know, then you’ll have to reckon with terror all over again. You can’t. You can’t do it. 
You’re only alone for a few minutes whenever you decide to pull down your blankets--they’re thick and heavy, warm from trapping all your heat. A gust of you-perfumed air slips underneath your nose and onto your tongue. You smell like the hospital. 
The gown you’re wearing is new--it’s not the one you wore before, when you first came to the hospital and they told you that you were already three centimeters dilated. You know because there is no jell-o stain on your chest, because there are hardly any wrinkles. It’s pristine. Placed on your body by a nurse while you were still under anesthesia. 
“Weird,” you mutter to yourself because it is weird and you need to hear your own voice. How out of control you were just hours and hours ago, asleep while you were cut. “Strange. Odd.”
Pulling the hem of the gown, your tongue thick with saliva, you pull it up slowly. The fabric is warm as it pools beneath your breasts, already crinkling with the movement. Part of you was expecting to see red streaks, puss-filled burns, loose stitches--but that isn’t what is really there. 
No, what’s there is everything that should be. Bandages. Yellow antibiotic. Gauze. 
Gently, you reach down and press your fingers to the gauze. You can’t feel it on your belly, but you can feel it with the tips of your fingers--it’s smooth and warm. If you didn’t know better, you would rip it off and look at all the scars that make up your belly now. 
A very quiet whine breaks your gaze from your belly. 
Looking up, squinting in the dark room, you glance at the clock. It’s closing in on six in the morning, which you know you’re gonna regret later today. Shit. She needs to eat--Jake said he’d wake her up before he left but had forgotten to in all the excitement and relief of you waking up. 
“Shh,” you whisper quietly, rolling your gown back down and letting your curled hands fall in your lap. With wide eyes, you watch as she begins to turn her head slowly from side to side, blinking herself awake. She whines again--louder, longer. “Hush now, it’s okay. It’s fine.”
That’s when she cries for the first time--it sounds like a baby’s cry, like all the other babies in the world. It’s not deep and guttural or strange and silent. It’s just a baby’s cry. 
“It’s okay,” you try again, voice weak. You glance at the closed door, willing Jake to bust through. “Daddy’ll be back any--he’ll be back any minute now, alright? Can’t you just wait it out?” 
It becomes shrill--finally, you move. 
Ears ringing and pulse quickening, you scoot yourself closer to the edge and look down at her. She’s becoming more and more upset by the second, her fists balled and her mouth parted and wet. 
“Here,” you whisper, grabbing the corner of the incubator and pushing it before pulling it. Makeshift rocking. “There, it’s okay. See. I’m here.” 
You continue pushing and pulling, the wheels squeaking, and the baby does not stop crying. You glance at the door again--Jake is still not here. 
It’s like something pops--all of the sudden, you can’t take it anymore. Fibers that make up your body and soul and heart suddenly vibrate like splitting atoms and move your body for you. Suddenly you can’t just sit on the edge of the bed and rock her with your teeth grit--you have to reach down and take her in your arms. 
Blinking, sitting back against the bed, you look down at the baby stunned. She’s in your arms, wrapped in cotton, still crying herself into a cloudy face. But she’s pressed up against your body and you can feel her weight in your arms--all seven exact pounds of her--and you can’t help but marvel for a moment. She’s real. A real human being with frowning lips and a voice and hair sticking out from beneath the ridiculous hospital beanie. 
“What’s got you so upset?” You whisper to her because you don’t know what else to say. “Huh? You just a feisty little thing or something? You’re…well, you’re like me, then. I guess.” 
When you speak--the cries begin to quiet down. Like all she needed to know was that you were there with her, that you would speak to her. Her mouth slowly closes and her eyes begin to slowly blink themselves open. 
Your heart nearly stops when her eyes meet yours for the first time. You’d imagined this before, thought about it on coffee breaks and while brushing your teeth or stirring a pot of soup in the kitchen. You’ve imagined them one thousand times since you looked into them for the first time at Camp Arcadia, when you saw all the light dissipated and flecks of gold washed away from Bradley’s eyes. 
All this time, these long nine months since the Camp Arcadia Annihilation, you’ve imagined that this creature is the one that ushers in your demise. But now she’s here, blinking up at you with her father’s eyes--flecks of gold surround her brown velvet irises. 
“Oh, my--!” You choke, bringing a quivering finger up to touch her cheek. It’s plush and warm and she keeps slowly blinking up at you. “Well--my, my, my, aren’t you so…you’re so pretty. You’re the prettiest baby I’ve ever seen.” 
Parts of you are melting that have been frozen since July. 
“Oh, my baby,” you whisper to her. She gazes up at you, eyes glazed over with sleep and love and antibiotics. “It’s so good to meet you.”
Jake comes back into the room ten later, having called Javy and Natasha and rattled off all of the baby’s statistics and updated them on your condition. When he opens the heavy door, he finds you on the bed and holding the baby in your arms as she nurses. There are tears falling off your nose and onto her blanket, a small smile tugging on your lips. 
His heart swells in his chest. He thinks he might keel over for a minute. 
But then you look up at him, awestruck and so in love that it’s practically written across your forehead in Magic Marker. And he can’t help but come to your side, can’t help but keep moving forward to be near you. 
He kisses your temple long and hard, glances down at the baby as she suckles. Her hat is gone--you must’ve taken it off to look at all of her hair. He strokes her hair gently and watches her eyes slowly slip shut. 
“She’s kind of perfect,” you whisper to him. “I wasn’t…I wasn’t expecting that.”
Jake glances at you. You’re looking at him with knit brows, with your lips held in a partial frown. 
“Yeah?” He asks. “What were you expecting?” 
“More of the same,” you whisper. 
He knows what you mean: horror. For things to end the way they ended at camp--in flames. 
He kisses your temple again. 
You look at him, tear-stained and worn out and lovesick. This man, this man who threw himself in front of an ax for you and somehow lived through it just to live in a little house with you and share a carton of orange juice every week, looks back at you like he’s never loved you more than this very moment. Maybe he hasn’t before--maybe every moment beyond this one will be just like this, so chalk-full of love that it spills out of your ears. 
And you have left him on the outside of everything. Everything bad and everything good, everything you’ve thought and felt and said to Dr. Messina. It’s on the outside of this bubble, waiting for you to come back. But you know, without a doubt, that he will love you through all the ugly. 
“I’ve got a lot to tell you, Jake,” you whisper to him. 
He’s choked up. So, he just nods. He kisses your forehead again. 
Thank you, God, he thinks. Thank you, thank you, thank you.  
“We’ve got a lot to do,” he whispers to you. 
You nod, laughing quietly. You don’t have a crib set up. You don’t have any clothes washed. But there’s a certain peace sitting in your chest, a certain calmness that you haven’t known in a very long time. Because it’s okay. It’s really, really okay. You will do all of these things in time, but for now, you’ll just hold the seven-pound baby girl against your breast and give her every single part of you. It’s all that matters to you. 
Suddenly, the baby turns her cheek away from your breast. She doesn’t cry, but she whines, nuzzling against your gown and balling her fists. 
“You’re okay, birdie,” Jake whispers, stroking the top of her head. Her hair feels like feathers. “It’s okay, baby.” 
“Birdie,” you repeat yourself, looking down at her placid face as she finds your chest again and resumes eating. Your spine prickles. “Birdie.” 
“Haven’t heard that name in a long time,” Jake says slowly. “I don’t know why I--it kinda just fell out of my mouth. Couldn’t help it.” 
“Maybe it’s what she wants to be called,” you whisper. “Do you wanna be Birdie?” 
Sunlight suddenly breaks through the gray clouds and punctures the cracked asphalt parking lot. It is not a lot of fun--but it is just enough to draw your gaze over to the window, where you watch as it gleams off windshields and piles of sludgy snow. 
Oh, you think. It’s finally morning. 
Tumblr media
𝐅𝐎𝐎𝐓𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄: SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG. WE COULD TALK ABOUT HOW THIS WAS ME AVOIDING THIS STORY ENDING BECAUSE I LOVE IT SO MUCH + I'M REALLY BAD AT GOODBYES. BUT WE COULD ALSO SAY THAT IT'S BECAUSE I WANTED IT TO BE PERFECT. EITHER WAY...
FROM THE BOTTOM OF MY LITTLE HEART, THANK YOU SO MUCH TO EVERY SINGLE PERSON WHO READ THIS STORY. THE REACTION I'VE GOTTEN HAS BEEN SO UNEXPECTED AND MAGICAL AND FANTASTIC. I HAVE ENJOYED EVERY SINGLE MOMENT OF SHARING THIS WITH EVERYONE. Y'ALL ARE SOME OF THE FUNNIEST PEOPLE ON THE INTERNET AND YOUR REACTIONS TO THIS STORY PROVED THAT.
THIS IS MY LOVE LETTER TO HORRO, BUT ALSO GRIEF. I'M PROUD OF IT. I'M PROUD OF ME. I'M PROUD OF YOU. THANK YOU FOR ALLOWING ME TO SHARE THIS. I'M HUMBLED AND GRATEFUL. STAY TUNED HERE ON ROOSTERBRUISER BECAUSE WE HAVE SOME REALLY FUN STUFF COMING UP. I'M NOT DONE YET!
𝐌𝐘 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓
𝐂𝐋𝐔𝐄𝐒
𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒:
@thedroneranger
@fandom-life-12
@avaleineandafryingpan
@popsycles
@guacala
@hotch-meeeeeuppppp
@oliviah-25
@zalmael
@chicomonks
@aboutelijahhh
@angelbabyange
@zbeez-outlet
@dempy
@awkwardgiraffe726
@awesomebooklover17
@ofxinnocence
@nyx2021
@callsign-joyride
@flashyourgreeneyesatme
@one-sweet-gubler
@olliepig
@beyondthesefourwalls
@cherrycola27
@hangmans-wingman
@malindacath
@thenewdaysalreadyhere
@shehulkracing
@vemonbby
@ohemgeewhat
@emi-flaces
@mishala005
@headinthecloudssblog
@anony1080
@bellaireland1981
@djs8891
@xoxabs88xox
@stiles-banshees
@birdy-bat-writes
@bananas1234
@shotgunhallelujah
@pono-pura-vida
@agentminnesota187
@onethirstyunicorn
@furiousladyking
@fandomxpreferences
@untoldshortsofthefandoms
@rintheemolion
@daggerspare-standingby
@harper1666
@princess76179
@roosters-girl
@jstarr86
@blahblechblah
@aemondssiut
@twsssmlmaa
@shawnsblue
@wolfiealina
@gothidecorem
@the-philthepill13
@hangmanscoming
@whoeverineedtobe
@lostinheavensworld
@laneyspaulding19
@averyhotchner
@peakascum
@jjlevin
@endofdays56
@xomrsalliej4787xo
@hypatia93
@sunlightmurdock
@tvjunkie08
@okyeeaaahhhh
@ijustwantedplums
@darkheartcherry
@sometimesanalice 
@angelbabyyy99
@bradshawseresinbabe
@unhinged-btch
@bradshawbabe
@topguncult
@kmc1989
@callsign-magnolia
@ohgodnotagainn
174 notes · View notes
cryingaboutit1514 · 28 days
Text
Stressed Out!
Author's note: eheh... Shu yamino brain rot rawr- for that one person who requested this (I totally forgot I'm sorry I have the memory of a rock) kinda got rushed at the end bc I was riding this whilst on public transportation :D
Summary: Shu has been awfully stressed lately, with all the rigid schedules and barely any sleep- however you offer a great idea to soothe our beloved sorcerer (sorcerer? I barely even know her)
Contains: nsfw content, blowjob, riding him, FILTH, I'm gonna devour this man whole ahem sorry, praising, not very rough sex, x fem reader, Shu yamino x reader, established relationship, sub! shu
None of my works are proofread!
'Shu seems unusually stressed,' you think to yourself, watching your boyfriend wash the dishes in the kitchen. Your chin propped up on your palms as you study his weary figure. You've noticed the bags underneath his eyes, which about intensifies the exhausted aura around him. You tried to wash the dishes yourself, but he protested, saying he was alright.
Which was bullshit. Shu always took care of you, so now it's your turn to take care of him.
You stand up from your chair by the counter, sauntering over to the back of him. You wrap your arms around his mid riff, pressing your chest against his back. Shu visibly stiffens for a moment, and then relaxes into your touch, rocking back and forth.
"Baby, you need to relax. You're such a workaholic," you mumble, ear against his back to hear his steady heartbeat.
"I just have a couple more things to do, don't worry about me," Shu replies, tossing a smile over his shoulder. You can feel the muscles in his shoulders flexing as he scrubs. "Then after that, I promise to relax and snuggle with you. Okay?"
You grumble, squeezing him hard and forcing him to grunt. "No. After you're done with those dishes, you're coming with me."
Shu glances back at you, using his magic to make the dish float into the dishwasher. "But-"
"No buts. Unless you rather me ignore you for the next week?" You threaten, arching a brow at him.
He shakes his head instantaneously. "Of course not!"
"Good." You give his back a light kiss. "I hate it when my boyfriend is so troubled. It's my duty to help you, you know."
"I know," Shu sighs, rinsing a bowl. "It's just between streaming and taxes and errand shopping... there's a lot for me to do."
"I can do all of those things."
"I know you can but..."
"But what?"
Shu puts away the final dish, drying his hands off. You back away so he can turn to face you. He scratches his neck. "It's just... I feel like I need to be the one to do things for you. I'm your boyfriend. I need to make sure you have all your needs met."
"I'm your girlfriend. I need to make sure your needs are met too," you counter, taking his hands in yours. Shu stares at your joined hands. "Being in a relationship doesn't mean one person has to do all the heavy lifting. Both have to shoulder each other's burdens and take care of each other. A two way street, if you will."
Shu tilts his head, watching you closely. A small smile adorns his face. He tugs you closer to you and brushes his lips against your forehead. "Thank you."
You beam at him happily and begin to guide Shu to the bedroom. "You're welcome! Now follow me."
The sorcerer obediently follows, your hand intertwined in his. You kick open the door dramatically, eliciting a exuberant laugh from him. You shuffle to the bed, plop down, and yanking him down with you. Shu lands beside you on his side and he laughs harder. You shift onto your side to face him, watching his face glow.
Shu slowly stops, his eyes traveling your face. A slight blush dusts his cheeks. "Why are you looking at me like that?"
"Like what?" You blink.
"Like..." Shu's gaze darts to the ceiling for a second. Then looks back at you. "With hearts in your eyes."
"Because I love you silly," you answer, a hand cupping his cheek. Shu nuzzles into it and you giggle. "I want to take care of you and love you."
His blush deepens and it he looks just so cute! You move closer to him, your nose bumping his. The sorcerer looks at you with slightly wide eyes, appearing like a startled cat. A puff of laughter brushes against his face from you. Shu's hand finds its home on the dip of your waist just as you lean in for a kiss.
It was gentle, and his lips were soft. A sign of affection and endearment. It was brief as you pulled back, however Shu chased your lips into another kiss, this time deeper and passionate. He almost seemed desperate.
You had to pull away for air, nearly gasping as your own cheeks warmed. Staring at each other with half-lidded eyes.
"Please..." A whisper so faint, you thought you weren't hearing right. The sorcerer's hand squeezed your waist, and you knew you were hearing right.
He needed you. And you knew exactly what to do.
You climb atop of your boyfriend, your mouth against his yet again. A soft whine muffled as you perch on him, one hand traveling down from his collarbone, down to his stomach. Shu's muscles tense underneath your touch.
Your lips ghost over his jawline, pressing a soft kiss there. Then your kisses trail down to the spot right under his ear. A little nip at the sensitive skin makes his breath hitch and you smile.
Your fingers dance across his stomach before sliding down to his pants. Just from touch alone, you can feel the tent growing underneath his sweatpants. And as you do so, Shu's hips jolt up slightly. You slowly circle the area before palming him through his pants.
"Mm..." A soft moan. You grip him gently and trace the tip, and the precum seeps through the fabric. His legs twitch as you continue your ministrations.
The sorcerer pants heavily, eyelids drooping and a red flush on his face as you stroke him, as well as kissing down his neck. Shu seems awfully sensitive to each of your touches. And very vocal.
"Baby please..." Shu whispers, bucking his hips up.
"Please what my love?" You coo, making him even more redder.
"I want you to..." he trails off, turning his head as if he were ashamed. His long hair spreads around his head like a halo and you cock your head to the side to look at him.
You hum, a slight puzzled look on your face. Shu glances back at you, biting his lip. Thinking if he should ask this of you or not.
"Do you want me to...?" Your nails drag across his pants, to the waistband and carefully tug down. Shu practically stops breathing, but doesn't tell you to stop.
You continue pulling down the waistband of both his sweats and boxers, his hard erection springing out. You could see every individual vein pulsing, the pre cum leaking from the rosy tip. You scoot backwards, one foot on the floor, then the other. You kneel on the floor, taking his base in a hand. Shu gets up on his elbows, watching with his chest heaving.
You squeeze and a low moan escapes your boyfriend. You trace a vein with a finger, then slip his length in your mouth. The reaction you get him from is perfect. A high whimper and Shu's head thrown back, hips slanted upward. You bob your head up and down, your tongue flattening against your boyfriend's tip. As you swallow him, you pump the base and beautiful noises exit from Shu's lips. His hand takes your hair, moving it out of your face.
"Feel so good, oh god," Shu gasps, shaking on his elbows. "D-doing so good- mm!"
You suck gently on the head of his cock and the sorcerer mewls, the sweetest noise you've heard. Your stomach flips, rubbing your thighs together as the heat flames in the bottom of your tummy.
With a wet pop, Shu's length pops out your mouth as you climb back on top of him. Your boyfriend watches you with a hand covering his mouth, ears bright pink. You quickly pull off your pants and panties, lining up his dick with your entrance.
Your boyfriend's eyes widen. "W-wait-!"
You descend upon his length and you both moan in unison. You can feel him in your walls, pulsing and stretching you out deliciously. Shu's hands grip your hips hard, his nails digging into your skin. His eyes shut, and you can see tears forming in the corners. With just one roll of your hips, the sorcerer has fallen apart.
"A-ah, baby, just like that," he moans, a mix of whimpers from his throat. "Please please please please-"
You begin to bounce up and down, slick covering his length and pelvis. Shu's head falls back onto the sheets as your core begins to milk his cock. Clenching around his erection, Shu was already so sensitive that within seconds he cums hard, a guttural moan ripping from his throat. Strings of his knot coats your insides and you gasp at the feeling. You slow down, the tightness in your stomach forming but you have already done what you needed.
"G-go ahead," Shu breathes, looking at you with pieces of his hair sticking to his forehead.
You scrunch your eyebrows together, your hands on his stomach. "But you already... came."
Shu shakes his head, slowly sitting up and the head of his cock kisses your g-spot. You bite your lip. "Want you to cum too."
You nod, before raising your hips down and dropping down. Shu swallows back his whines, not minding being overstimulated if it meant your enjoyment too. The relationship goes two ways, right?
"Just a bit- m-more," you whisper in his ear with stuttered breaths. A groan in response. You roll your hips and the tightness in your stomach just nearly gets there- you drop yourself onto his length again and you release, vision sparking white as you moan.
You collapse against him, Shu holding you in his arms as he falls back onto the mattress, trying to regain his breath. The sorcerer was still sheathed inside you, but neither of you made the move to... well move.
"Thank you so much," Shu whispers in your ear, kissing your temple lovingly. "It felt so good. I loved it."
You smile cheerfully. "I'm glad."
After a trip to the shower and getting into pajamas, you two cuddle together and watched movies for the rest of the day.
101 notes · View notes
jessaerys · 6 months
Text
(kind of a long-ish excerpt -- i've been twisting myself into pretzels about posting fic for the first time in years and driving myself crazy about it, so i figured it'd do me good to do a teeny tiny soft launch to demystify the whole thing. as a treat thoughts appreciated :') title may change, we'll see.) texas sharpshooter fallacy flirt mello/near | T (excerpt) | 700ish words | canon compliant.
near knocks.
his idea of inconspicuous is a sharp black coat and matching slacks and aviators now high up and glossy on his head. he knocks, and stands there in the fluorescent headache hallway where he can hear mello’s neighbors two doors over fucking to industrial EDM, their bed and their heads shrieking. as if the shock of white hair and vermeer eyes and his pretty babydoll mouth wouldn’t turn heads from harlem to chinatown. he has to laugh.
the 6th floor hallway is carpeted in cigarette butts and shards of glass and piss and misery, rock-bottom regret, apathy of the take-a-walk-out-of-the-roof variety. the wallpaper is an eyesore from the 70s and the ceilings are crazy cracked. taking the lift is a game of russian roulette. more than one person has died in this floor alone. he knows because it was his finger on the trigger, and fuck, he hasn't bothered to scrub out the stains. the grifters, the killers, the whores: everyone here —everyone— has been forsaken by god.
and near is alone.
for a brief, ridiculous moment mello is fourteen again, filled with a gleeful kind of malice, hoping the crackheads across the hall walk out and see near in all of his freakish man-in-black, little gray alien glory. catnip for psychosis, and right on the money to boot. if mello squints just so, it looks as if near is trapped inside the fishbowl marble universe of his peephole.
“in military strategy,” near says, his voice a tuning silver fork that makes the hair on the back of mello’s head stand on end. it is deeper. more elegant. mello had noticed, earlier, when they’d been strangers in the same room with nothing in common but the race for kira’s head and five years worth of resentment. “to refuse diplomatic entrance to one’s territory would be considered a declaration of war.”
“we already accepted jesus into our hearts.”
inside his grimy spaceship, the corner of near’s mouth quirks for a flash of a kodak moment and then it is gone. glitch in the matrix. mello’s wolfteeth grin knocks painfully into the aluminum.
“and didn’t the lord say offer hospitality to one another without grumbling?”
1 peter 4:9. the verse just before reads: above all, love each other deeply, because love covers over a multitude of sins.
"nothing a couple dozen hail marys won't fix."
above them something shatters against the floor. a woman screams. a weight falls heavy on the floor and then there is silence. the ceiling snows dirty dust all over near’s shoulders like so much winter wonderland. the lights flicker and flicker.
neither of them say anything. mello watches. he can’t see you, he tells himself, feeling like the world's best and brightest buffoon. he's not fucking godtouched.
but near raises a hand to his rosy cherubim face, makes a circle with his thumb and index finger to squint through with one big ophanim eye.
watches the watcher.
“i will wait for sixty seconds.”
mello finds his gun. sticks it in the back of his pants. runs his hands through his hair. pulls his gun out, checks the mag. pops it in place. hesitates. checks it again. he was right the first time. it is empty. thirty eight, thirty seven.
L used to say, it’s a boundary, mello. explicit verbal communication of where the limits are. respecting it preserves the peace. you can choose to ignore it, but you should first know why. and you should be ready for the inevitable outcome.
but what this really is is this: near coming to him alone under cover of night, so naïve he might as well be wearing a neon sign that says mug me or kidnap me or worse! i'm a stupid little boy!; as far he can be from the safety of his prince’s tower all to give little old mello the pleasure a fucking ultimatum.
his blood simmers. his ears ring. his sympathetic nervous system betrays him only ever around near, and near's little sycophant butlers could be just out of sight. he could be here with a swat team and a warrant for his arrest. he could be here to let mello know he has once again taken from him the only thing that's ever made any damn sense in his life.
he tries to breathe through it. tries to weight his options. he tries to be more like L.
he fails.
four, three, two—
near turns to leave.
mello opens the door.
.
.
.
47 notes · View notes
igigix · 2 years
Text
Black Heart
Chapter 10: He Knows
- Rio (Good Girls) x Female Reader/You -
-> 18+ readers only!
-> English is not my native language, so bear with me because there will probably be some grammatical mistakes.
Summary: Rio, a dangerous, ruthless gangster, stumbles your path.
Rating: Mature, Explicit.
Warnings: Mentions of rape and assault.
Word count: 1.8k
A/N: Yo! Yo! It’s been a long time, lol. I've really missed writing. Let’s see how our two idiot are doing. Enjoy the new chapter because there will be a lot of development in the following one. Reblogs and feedback are very welcome. 
Tumblr media
"Stop. You don't have to do this." 
"Do what, sweetheart? I've done a lot of things that are out of character for me since I've met you, so be specific, yeah?”
It was getting late. Rio has yet to appear, and despite your best efforts, you find yourself disappointed. You began to genuinely grow attached to him, which was very dangerous for many reasons. So you focused on your job to distract yourself from him. You were able to progress in your work since your sister brought you your computer. Lucy came to see you after Bonnie and Sarah left. She wanted to check up on you. She was worried about you, especially when she heard about the attack. She didn't know the full extent of what had occurred, and you wanted to keep it that way. Dorothy also visited you. She was always nice and caring. You're grateful to them. Everyone has been extremely kind and supportive. 
You turn off your Mac and lie down on the bed. You are left alone with your thoughts and emotions. Although you are surrounded, you still feel alone. You seem to be swallowed whole by the pain as it overtakes you. Why? What caused that shift in your life? Now you're lying to your loved ones, hiding your criminal activities from them. Your actions caused your best friend harm. You accused Beth, but deep down, you know it's you're fault. The past came to strike you with full force after you provoked it. Your blood courses through your veins and brings your heart to a rapid beat. It's your fault. Your breath comes in short, shallow spurts. 
You're feeling dizzy. You try to relax by focusing on the ceiling while trying to block everything from your memories. You see him. 
"For a little privacy. You know, just like the old days.”
 Everything around you becomes hazy as his image jolts through your mind. You feel a burning sensation overwhelm your body as the emotion of guilt engulfs you. You feel dirty. You're safe; everything will be alright, you tell yourself. To prevent your seizures, the nurse handed you your meds. You're fine, you repeat over and over again. You squeeze your eyes shut as if that will make it stop. It doesn't. Your mind is throwing itself into a vicious cycle of self-blame. Not only did you let everyone down, but you failed yourself. No wonder why Beth and the girls don't care about you. They only use you as a pawn to make fake money. Same for Rio.
You have feelings for someone who only sees you as a tool. Your brain keeps replaying Beth's harsh words. "What do you think will happen when he learns about your health problem because believe me, he will. I'll tell you; you'll instantly become a burden to him." You're falling apart, and you feel very, very scared. You want it all to stop. You want it to disappear. He'll either toss you or, perhaps worse, kill you. He's capable of it. The weight of it hits you all at once. 
He could kill you, and stupidly, your heart yearns for him. You need to put some distance between you and him. You can't let yourself fall for him anymore, no matter how charming he is. He's not a good man, and you're not worthy of love. You don't feel dirty. You are dirty. Filthy. Regardless of how much you scrubbed yourself, that sensation persisted. You knew that part of you that you couldn't get rid of. You thought you had moved on, but it came back to haunt you even more strongly than before. You feel that state of confusion and fear again. 
— — — —
Rio strolls down the sidewalks in front of the hospital where you are staying. He was so livid that he opted to walk rather than drive. His hands are tucked up in his pockets, and a blue hoodie covers his head. His lips are pursed, and his scowl is evident. All he thinks about is you, that piece of shit, and the seething desperation boiling in his chest. He is driven by the desire to beat and destroy everyone and everything that could hurt you. Rage bubbles inside him. He can hardly contain it. He could go ballistic at any moment, like a lit fuse on a burning bomb. But instead, he strides on; his pace is deliberate and controlled. He wants to be level-headed. He needs to think about this properly. He didn't want to frighten you. He didn't want to lose control. He needs to restrain his temper for you. He needs to do this for you. 
He pauses when he's right in front of the entrance to the hospital. He was determined to see you regardless of visiting hours; nothing or no one would stand in his way. He never knew he could feel this way. He was ready to do whatever it took to be close to you. He needed you like a heart needs a beat. He didn't know where this devotion came from, but he was experiencing it. It was strange and foreign--He was beginning to allow himself to care for someone other than his son Marcus. Elizabeth misled him when he thought they had a connection. He vowed to remain cautious after she betrayed him. 
Could he trust you, though? He didn't know yet. But he would give it his all, and the rest would figure itself out. You were someone worth fighting for. You were unique and special. He was enthralled. The moment he laid his eyes on you, he knew you were more than meets the eye. Something in you called out to him. He was utterly mistaken in his assumption that Elizabeth did all the heavy lifting. You were the actual talent, the real deal. You were too innocent and too beautiful for your own good. 
Rio enters the automatic doors, and the melancholy mood of the hospital seeps into his bones. He navigates through the empty halls. It's very late, and there aren't many people around. He takes the elevator to the fourth floor and wanders to your room. The corridors are silent, and there aren't any staff members around. He approaches your chamber and stops where one of his men, Kofi, had been positioned to watch over you. From now on, You won't ever again be exposed or defenseless. No matter what. He will protect you at all costs. Kofi steps aside as Rio enters after opening the door, his eyes immediately catching yours. Your eyes are tired and a little red. You're not asleep. You have a pensive and troubled look on your face. He stands beside the bed and tentatively reaches out to touch you. His fingers skimmed the plane of your cheek. His fingers brush your skin and send a shiver down your spine. 
Head encircled with a scarf; You wore silk nightgowns. You feel the urge to close your eyes and lean into his touch. You want to know what's behind his ruthless, intimidating facade. He forces himself to stay still. You are vulnerable right now. He doesn't want to take advantage of your helpless state. Your gaze is drawn to his wounded hands.
"Oh my god, what happened?" You ask. You pull his hand and focus your attention on it. "Are you alright?" you ask him. His expression hardens, and he frowns. The tips of his fingers are stained with blood, while his knuckles are swollen and bruised. You're in a fucking hospital bed because you were assaulted, yet you're worried about his hands? The bastard ambushed you, and you're asking him if he's alright? Rio stays silent. "Why won't you answer me?" You say. His hooded gaze flicks at you before it is glued to your face again. "Please," you beg, "answer me." 
You're honestly intrigued. Whatever it was, he had been in a dangerous place. You can feel it. Your mind is preoccupied with anything else than simple curiosity. Fear. The recognition causes you to jerk within. No. You could care less. You want to stop caring. You wish to despise him. You need to despise him. The biggest act of treason your heart can do will be to care for a man who will never love you.
"I'm good, sweetheart." He replies, his voice soft. He leans over you and kisses your forehead. It takes every ounce of his self-control to pull away. He pulls the chair near your bed and sits, holding your hand.
The tension in his shoulders melts away when you tangle your fingers through his. He is still fuming with fury, but you make him feel calm again.
"Tell me you trust me, yeah?" He murmurs. 
"You've given me every opportunity not to," you state. "How can I trust you?" 
"Because I need you to." He replies, clutching harder to your hand.
You bite your lip and look at his hands. "Then tell me what really happened." You whisper.
"I know." 
"You know?" Not understanding you at first, you keep quiet. Still absorbing his words. A few moments later, you realize that he knows that you were assaulted. Deep shame tinges your skin at the thought. 
You attempt to remove your hand, but he firmly holds you. You turn your head away in humiliation. He knows you're dirty. 
"No, you don't. Nothing happened to me." You lie. The truth will disgust him, and you know it. 
"Eyes on me, mama, when you're talking." You hear him growl.
You try to pull away, but he has a tight grip on your hand. The silky pad of his thumb caresses your palm. He is trying to make you feel comfortable. Your body responds to his touch. You don't know how to process that. The display of affection makes you want to cry. You never expected to be treated like this. Your heart yearns for him, and your mind revolts at the idea. He gently takes your chin, tilting your face to meet his gaze. 
"Eyes on me, yeah?"
───────── ∙ ~εïз~ ∙ ──────────
<- Previous chapter: Between Two Points
- Black Heart Masterlist -
- Masterlist -
- Taglist -
@mayansxlover @doloreschanal @Niya-001
@rio-lover @lovesanimals0000 @hinatasfleshlight @avidreader3107 @rex-the-dino @bugngiz @cocopuffs0211 @mrsmontanalol @Thebluefish @littlebvbie @est1887 @rio-reid-whoreee​ @sexicherri3
375 notes · View notes
potionsprefect · 1 year
Text
A New Life
Pairings: Ethan Ramsey x Victoria Clarke
Word Count: 1.6k
Summary: Luke and Lily are welcomed into the world
Rating: General Audiences
Category: Fluff
Tumblr media
18th September 5:23am
Victoria was awake very early, the sun wasn’t even up and her husband beside her was still asleep, which was very unlike him as he was almost always an early riser. But with the anticipation of the arrival of their twins, both Ethan and Victoria knew that they needed as much sleep as possible.
But the day had finally rolled around and Victoria had become increasingly nervous. Today was the day that the twins would be delivered via c-section. By this evening, they would have their babies in their arms.
Despite the insistence by everyone around her that she should take it easy and try to relax as much as possible, Victoria found herself with too much to do. She had been ordering more baby grows and toys (despite Ethan telling her that they didn’t need anymore). Victoria had also been kept awake by the constant kicks she felt from the twins. She was anything but relaxed.
However, all the sleepless nights, endless kicks and the aches and pains would all be worth it, when their twins would be born happy and healthy.
Deciding that she wasn’t going back to sleep, Victoria sat up and pulled the duvet back, careful to not make too much movement so Ethan didn’t wake up and got up out of bed.
Slowly, she made her way to the nursery, flicking the lights on, illuminating the dark room.
Everything was set in place, the two cribs were placed in one corner of the room, the changing table in the other, the armchair was placed by the window, with the ability to look out to the garden when holding the babies.
Everything was ready for them, the only thing that was missing was the babies.
Soft footsteps got louder and Victoria felt a pair of arms wrap around her, making her way to her large bump, caressing it gently.
“Come back to bed.” Ethan whispered in her ear.
“I can’t sleep.” Victoria replied.
Ethan smiled. “I know. Today is the day. In just 3 hours we’ll be at the hospital, ready to welcome our twins.”
“I’m excited. But also scared.”
“I know, tell me what you’re thinking.” Ethan pressed a kiss to the side of her head.
“What if there’s a complication? What if something goes wrong? What if one of the twins is sick and has to stay in the NICU? C-sections can be extremely complicated.” Victoria said.
“And if that does happen, we will deal with it together. I am not going to leave your side, whatever we may face.” Ethan said.
“I can’t believe the day is finally here.” Victoria smiled.
Ethan pressed a delicate kiss to her forehead. “Me neither. This is it Vic. Our dreams are about to come true.”
They both smiled at each, ready for their next adventure.
Tumblr media
11:12am
Victoria stared up at the operating room ceiling, her heart pounding in her chest. The team were making final preparations before her c-section would start.
Now the nerves were starting to kick in.
When they arrived at the hospital, they had been met with lots of good luck messages from their colleagues, Victoria smiled politely but it just made her more anxious.
The process was about to start, she would soon have her babies with her.
“How are you feeling?” A voice said. Victoria looked up to see Ethan, scrubbed up looking down at her.
“Do you know how incredibly sexy you look in those scrubs?” Victoria asked.
Ethan laughed. “I think you’ve been given a lot of medication.”
“Nope, I’m perfectly lucid.” Victoria replied.
“Well I’m glad you’re calm. That’s the main thing. They’re going to start soon.” Ethan held her hand.
As instructed, the midwives were talking to Victoria, taking her through her procedure and what to expect. Victoria had already researched this and being a doctor herself, she knew what was to come.
Victoria felt an incision on her stomach, however it didn’t hurt, the medication was doing it’s job.
Victoria looked up at Ethan who’s eyes were directly focused on her. “I’m right here.” He smiled.
“I know. Please don’t go anywhere.” Victoria said.
“Of course not Vic. However long it takes.” Ethan replied.
The doctors continued their job, various tools being passed amongst each other. “We’re going to get baby number one out now.” One of the midwives said.
Victoria felt her heart beat faster, the beeping of the monitor signified that.
“Mine too.” Ethan chuckled, giving her hand a squeeze.
A couple minutes passed before there was a cry, a loud wail pierced the room.
“Baby boy is out!” The midwife smiled. Another midwife took him and put him in a medical crib.
Victoria could feel tears burning in her eyes, she didn’t attempt to hold them back. “We did it Ethan. We’re parents.” She smiled.
“You did it. I’m so proud of you.” Ethan squeezed Victoria’s hand.
“Go be with him.” Victoria said.
“Are you sure?” Ethan replied.
“Yes, make sure he’s okay.”
Ethan nodded and headed over to where Luke was. He stared down at his son in wonder, he was finally a Dad. It had been a long nine moments but it was all worth it for this moment right here.
“Baby number two will be out soon.” The midwife said to Victoria.
“He seems good Victoria. APGAR of 8.” Ethan said.
Victoria breathed a sigh of relief. One was okay, now she needed the other one to be.
“We’re gonna take him to get cleaned up and we’ll bring him to you when you’re done here.” One of the midwives said as she tagged the baby with the correct number.
“Do you want me to go with him?” Ethan asked Victoria.
“He’ll be okay Doctor Ramsey. You should see the birth of your second child.” The midwife said.
“He’ll be fine.” Victoria reached her hand out.
Ethan took it, running a gentle hand over her knuckles. “One down one to go.”
The midwives moved fluently, working to get the second baby out.
“Almost there. Hang in there Victoria.” The midwife said.
“I’m trying.” Victoria said, excited to meet her child.
A few minutes passed before the midwife said. “Baby girl is out!”
She was placed on a crib, a small faint cry emitting from her.
“Why isn’t she crying loudly?” Victoria asked.
“She will.” Ethan squeezed her hand.
Victoria could feel her heart rate rising, she needed to hear a cry, she wanted her baby girls sound to be as loud as her brothers. She wouldn’t relax until she did.
Victoria looked to her right and saw the midwives attending to her. She was desperately waiting, it seemed like it was taking forever.
At last she heard it, relief flooded through her.
“She just needed a bit of help, we’re going to take her to the NICU.” The midwife said.
“Is she okay?” Ethan asked.
“She will be. It’s purely a precaution.” The midwife explained as they escorted their baby girl out of the room.
“Victoria look at me.” The other midwife working on her said. “Your babies are going to be fine. Sometimes they just need a little extra help breathing but that’s perfectly normal. We’re going to stitch you up and get you in recovery so you can see them.”
Victoria nodded slowly, looking up at Ethan.
“You did it Vic. They’re here.” Ethan smiled.
Victoria felt tears roll down her cheeks. “Mom and Dad.” She smiled.
The start of their new journey was here, and both were so excited for it.
Tumblr media
7:34pm
Victoria was recovering well and was back in her room in the maternity ward, her baby boy sleeping soundly beside her.
Her baby girl was in the NICU but was doing well and the midwives said she should be able to come off the ventilator in a couple days. They reassured Victoria that it was normal for babies to sometimes need extra assistance and that she would be fine.
“He’s so small.” Ethan smiled as he stared down at his son.
“A good weight though for a twin. Same with baby girl.” Victoria smiled.
“I should go and check how she is doing. Do you want to come?” Ethan asked.
“I think it’s best if I stay here. But can you FaceTime me so I can see her?” Victoria reached for her phone.
“Of course.” Ethan said, pressing a kiss to Victoria’s lips and then a gentle one to their baby’s forehead. “I won’t be long.”
Ethan headed out the room and Victoria stared down at the baby. She couldn’t believe they were finally here. Victoria and Ethan couldn’t wait to take them home, they were finally a family, and they were so happy.
Her phone buzzed and soon Ethan was on her screen, smiling at her.
“She’s doing really well. They’re really happy with her progress.” Ethan explained.
“That’s brilliant. I think we should name them. We can’t keep calling them baby boy and girl.” Victoria laughed.
“You’re right we can’t. Do you still like the names we came up with?”
Victoria smiled. “I do. I think they go well. It fits them perfectly.”
“Then Lily here will be off the ventilator in no time.” Ethan said.
“And Luke will be getting unlimited amounts of cuddles in the meantime.” Victoria nodded.
“Luke and Lily sound like a double act. Hopefully they won’t get into too much trouble.” Ethan laughed.
“With you disciplining them how could they.” Victoria chuckled.
“I’m so proud of you. And the little family we created. I love you.” Ethan smiled.
“I love you too.” Victoria smiled.
Their family was now complete. And they couldn’t wait to see what was in store for the four of them.
Tumblr media
Wasn’t that just so fluffy?!
Tagging in reblog
72 notes · View notes
gingerturtle99 · 1 year
Text
Just keep breathing chapter 5~ you can’t keep running
Back| MASTERLIST | next
TRIGGER WARNINGS: Hospitals, talks of sex and stds, surgery, trauma , childhood illness, death, medical environment, details of body parts(genitalia)and swearing.
Tumblr media
“I could say the same to you, what doctor doesn’t practice safe sex” I say looking up at seungmin whose ears are slowly turning a red. His eyes never leaving the ceiling
“I..I..well…shut up”
A soft giggle escapes my lips and i continue to check over seungmin
“hey min, have you seen…oooo what are we doing? “ I feel a presence lean down next to me..
“DUDE?!?!” Seungmin quickly tries to cover himself with his hands but I shoo them away trying to get a better look at these sores
“Our dear Minnie hasn’t be wrapping it before he taps it and now he’s got an STD” I say taking my hands off seungmin and motion for him to pull up his trousers while I walk over to bin disposing of my gloves.
Seungmin pulls up his boxers and scrub trousers face still bright red .
“It’s syphilis min…so I can go get the antibiotics and give you the shot or you can take the oral ones? Either way no sex for 2 weeks and you should probably tell anyone else you’ve slept with…”
“Wow Y/N you actually sounded like a doctor then…I’m impressed”
“Thanks jisung” I laugh
All the while seungmin looks like he wants the floor to swallow him up as he makes his way over the bed his head in is hands
“I can’t believe I was so stupid”
“I can”
“NOT HELPING!” A sharp slap sound echo’s around the room as seungmin claps jisung up the head for his comment before looking at me.
“Y/N go get the shot…I’ll go into an exam room or something anywhere more sterile than in here”
I just nod , grabbing jisung by the sleeve dragging him out the on call room to give seungmin some peace.
“You leave him alone, you understand me! And don’t go telling all the boys! I’ll know it was you“ I say pointing my finger in jisungs face a smile trying to break its way into my face at I look at jisung smiling down at me, I can tell he’s ready to burst into laughter .
“Ye…pfft..yes ma’am” with a salute jisung turns his back to me and starts walking down the hall way his giggling not stopping .
I roll my eyes and start making my way towards the closest drug locker I can see on this floor.
“Well Doctor L/N you’re not a face we see down here often, what do we owe the pleasure?” A voice sounds from behind me
Causing me to turn on me heel and stare straight at
“Doctor Kim…I..I came down to see Seungmin I..I.mean Doctor Kim he asked me for a consult and I was just heading up back up to peads” I smile up at doyoung who is one of the top cardio attendings , my heart racing like I’ve been caught doing something wrong.
“Hey ,hey why so jumpy? It’s not illegal for you to be on the cardio floor . It’d be nice to see you here more often …wait that sounds weird . I’m just gonna…go“ He laughs patting my shoulder before walking off back to where ever he was going.
I blink rapidly, my brain taking its time to process the sentence I just heard.
“What the?…”
I walk over the drug locker , enter my code grab out the antibiotic for seungmin before locking it behind me.
“Doctor L/N to peads , Doctor L/N to peads”
The speaker throughout the hospital blasts “shit shit shit!!!” I look around the floor quickly, looking for someone I can trust to run the antibiotic to seungmin and not ask questions when I see him.
“YO JISUNG!! “ I run up to him handing the capped syringe to him , he looks down confused but a smirk then pulls onto his face.
“Oh yes I get to Stab Kim seungmin in the ass! “ he cheers as he runs off to find seungmin .
“STOP ENJOYING THIS JISUNG!” I shout after him, jisung just waves me off as he skips off the find seungmin.
I quickly pull out my phone texting seungmin telling him jisung has the antibiotic.
I giggle as I run up to peads floor, choosing to take the stairs as it’s quicker than taking the elevator this time. Once I reach peads I lean against a wall to catch my breath before walking to the nurses station.
“Hoshi was looking for you” the nurse behind the station says
“He couldn’t just page me?”
“No he couldn’t “ I jump as the head of peads voice booms from behind me.
“H..hos,,shit..sir hi, how can I help?” I smile softly up at sungyoon while trying to act like I didn’t just have a minor heart attack.
“Language Y/N we are surrounded by children here and I was just wondering if you had thought about that offer I pitched to you, the reason I didn’t page you is because you’ve been avoiding me ever since I brought it up” my heart rate starts to pick up, he’s caught me red handed.
“Sir I promise I’ll let you know, but I’ve got to go check on my pre op patient and then check on some post op’s so I’m super busy” I say slowly backing away from hoshi as I speak , trying to get the furthest away I can before he tries to stop me.
“Y/N…you can keep running from me” hoshis voice booms as I get further and further away.
“Sorry sir gotta run” I quickly turn on my heel speed walking to Jisoo’s room.
Once I reach Jisoo’s room, I knock the door softly just incase she’s fallen asleep. This busy day definitely would’ve taken a lot out of her, plus the pain meds there’s a good chance she’s sparko.
“Come in~~” I hear a voice ring out, one I recognise, I open the door with my eyebrow furrowed in confusion but the sight before causes a smile to creep onto my face. Next to jisoos bed is minho, a princess crown adorning his fluff brown hair and a tiny teacup between his fingers, his pinky raised.
“Min…I mean doctor Lee what are you doing in here? I say as I try not to laugh
“Well Jisoo’s parents wanted to take her brother to the cafeteria to get so grub and you weren’t around so I offered to stay with the munchkin while they went and she wanted to play tea party so I raided the play room for these”minho states as he fixes jisoos crown on her head as she sips her pretend tea from her tea cup.
I go over and pick up jisoos chart to see her sats are already noted down, I raise an eyebrow at minho but shrug placing the chart down.
“What I was here, you weren’t …so I filled it out. Since I’m banned from surgery it was something to do” Minho shrugs at me while jisoo pours him some more tea.
“Well thank you, hey jisoo?” I look at the little girl who’s eyes float up to meet mine. I smile as soon as we make eye contact.
“The next time I see you, I’m going to take that Lego out of your belly okay?”
She nods, a small wince noticeable when she moves her body, my eyes shoot to minho who nods at me, letting me know it wasn’t my imagination. I quickly call the nurse into the room.
“Top up her pain meds please? “ I smile at the nurse who happens to be Haechan but my smile drops when he Looks at me wide eyed.
“She’s maxed out doc, I can give her anymore for another hour”
“Shi…Sugar! Get her prepped the plastic is moving quicker than I thought! I’ll meet you down in the OR!! Minho can you let the parents know?!” I sat quickly running towards the door.
“YEP!”
Shit shit shit… I run quickly to the surgical floor, shouting i need my OR prepped now, quickly getting changed into sterile scrubs as burst into the OR scrub room. As I start scrubbing my heart races, jisoo is wheeled in to the OR. She looks so scared and confused but just as I’m about to finish scrubbing in to enter the OR I see a figure walk into the OR, gown and cat scrub cap dawning his body as he goes and sits next too jisoo holding her hand , the worried look quickly fades and a smile graces her lips as they put her under.
“Lee minho…you big softy”
44 notes · View notes
Text
There is Thunder in our Hearts Part 3
@grantairescurls @fuck-the-reaper @procrastinatingsoicanreadfanfics
---
There is still blood on his hands long after the trial ends.
It's a long one. Long and chaotic and full of shouting voices on both sides, ones it's hard for even him to temper. But it ends, as all things do, and in the end two men lose their heads.
The rest might disperse after that. Or maybe they will revolt. He doesn't much care.
What comes next will come - this is what can be done now. It's something. It's one thing taken care of. It's control.
All the while his wife stands in the crowd, watching him silently with a hawk-like gaze, long arms folded. One of the boys is with her, their faces identical. Ragnar turns away from them. There isn't any point wondering whether there's disappointment in those gazes or not.
And what does it matter, when hours later there's still blood under his fingernails? That he did it, whatever they might think, because he had to? Isn't that all that matters?
I had no choice, he thinks. Not now, not then.
He tries to wash his hands. Flecks of black-red remain under his fingernails. For you, he thinks, imagining his wife's unreadable face. For all of you. For your safety. Look at these hands, Aslaug, and tell me I do not act for you.
He wonders then, if it's really one of the prisoners', at all or if it's Athelstan's blood from three days ago, if it's been here this whole time.
What does it matter?
****
Athelstan has so far been able to hold himself back from biting his tongue, instead clenching his teeth so hard they could crack.
The healer - Athelstan isn't sure what else to call him, physician might be the appropriate word in England, but it means nothing here - scrubs away at the wound again, making him dig his nails sharply into the palm of his hand. It burns and it's been burning for hours now, carrying him on a long, steady wave of pain.
Only a while ago the slash on his side grew uncomfortable under the bandages - more so than it's been. He's tried to ignore it, but its grown too strong to let him sleep, even with the herbs the healer gives him. Even turning away from it is difficult, with his opposite arm slung across his chest and shoulder bandaged just as heavily. There's no escape.
A sudden pain lances through his side as the wound is prodded, making him cry out through his teeth. He's shaking and damp with cold sweat, the endless ache of the wound bringing with it waves of chills followed by nauseating heat. All he can do is lie still with his gaze on the solid wall, breathing as deep as he can without stretching the ragged skin around the gash.
The bed under him seems to sway if he so much as turns his head, the covers hot and damp, the air freezing where it touches his skin. All the room looks oddly dark, the time of day or night not seeming to matter. He has the sense that something is greatly wrong with him, with the healer, with every voice he's heard and every beam of wood in the ceiling. It seems he's wandered into a twilit world where everything is a shade off from what he is used to.
The healer is talking in a low voice now, to Lagertha who has once again come to watch over him. This time Athelstan has a hard time keeping up with what they're saying; the clipped, guttural sounds of their northern speech swimming into his head and straight back out again.
He shuts his eyes, suddenly lightheaded. Things have grown foggy...he can't seem to remember when Lagertha got there, or when the healer got there, or how long he has been in this much pain. The wound feels achingly hot, the healer's fingers like coals where they touched it, so hot he cannot sleep and his mind instead wanders back to the raid, to his own countrymen nailing him to a cross on a hill, to a burning church...
He knows these are bad signs. The hours in which this godforsaken wound has been plaguing him have been tinged not only with pain but with mounting, spiraling dread.
Fighting dizziness, he opens his eyes enough to see Lagertha's hazy form coming back into the room, stern-looking as always.
She is always stern, he thinks. If she smiles, it's then you know you're in danger. The half smile with her brow still furrowed. You know the one.
She comes towards him, eyes on the wound. Her fingers brush the new dressing, peeling it back to look at the wound. Athelstan watches her face carefully, but it's blank.
"As I thought," she says quietly, covering it once again. When she looks up she gives him a small smile, though her eyes retain their troubled look. And Athelstan's heart sinks.
"What did he say to you?" he asks, as she sinks down to sit on the edge of his bed. He notes this - she was in a chair before.
Her hand cups his cheek, brushing his forehead lightly. It's so cool, not like the healer's burning fingers. All of a sudden he's very glad she is there, that someone he trusts is there. He feels all wrong, all twisted around.
"Drink this first," she says, and helps him lift his head to sip some bitter tincture.
She settles him down again. "The wound looks bad. He is going to treat it with honey, and keep warmth on it."
Honey for infection, he thinks. Yarrow and white willow tincture to stem it from within.
"If it doesn't improve..."
She pushes a stray strand of hair off his forehead with her thumb, pausing. "He may need to lance the wound, to bring out the infection. It would be painful, Athelstan. But it would work."
Athelstan nods calmly, though he's sure he's gone visibly pale at her words. "Is...is that likely?"
The tremour in his voice gives him away. Her face softens, her hand resting on his cheek. "Maybe. I don't know."
He knows that, knows he has faced pain and will likely face plenty more until his time on this earth is done. But something about knowing it ahead, paired with the heightened anxiety and eeriness that's coloured his past few hours...
"Will you stay with me?" he asks, before he can stop himself.
Something in Lagertha's face shifts, that he cannot read. He gets the unusual feeling that she feels sorry for him. "Of course. I wouldn't leave you alone for that."
He nods again, swallowing the tightness in his throat.
"You have some fever. He is bringing you medicine, you take it and rest. Now more than ever you need to sleep. Don't try to do anything that hurts - we will take care of you."
We. Embarrassment steals over him, a great rush of it. "Lagertha, you shouldn't be here. Surely you have other duties - "
She shushes him. It's fruitless. "If I was going to leave you at any time, it certainly would not be now. I am worried for you, priest."
The returned use of their nickname for him settles him a little. Still he has the feeling that there are things crawling all about his skin, on the walls and on the bedclothes. Something is wrong.
"I'm tired," he says involuntarily. He can't seem to keep his thoughts to himself.
"Then sleep," says Lagertha. "I won't be far."
He dreams he's still tucked away behind Lindisfarne's walls, and it's so vivid he can taste the sea-washed air.
He dreams he's lying in the Wessex infirmary, being frowned down at through a haze by men who would rather see him dead than healed.
He dreams he's standing at a gate that might lead to Heaven or to Hell or Valhalla, all he knows is it's locked firmly shut.
A long sound of pain is already on his lips when he wakes next, into a burning, too-bright world. His skin is being torn from his body, his bones set on fire...
"Athelstan," says a quiet voice near him. "You have to lie still. Breathe."
But he can't breathe, not without a new flash of fire rippling through his flesh.
"I can't - " he manages to choke out through fumbling lips. "It - it hurts."
A cool touch on his face. A voice low and soothing. "I know it does. I know."
Heat erupts along his side at another touch and a pained cry escapes him, he struggles but is held still by stronger hands than he has the strength to fight.
A hand grips his, and he grips it back. The body it comes from is like a pale and shivering shadow. "Please," he says to the blurring face, "please help me."
The hand tightens. "I am trying to. Lie still, little one. The pain will end. It will."
But just then something hot and splintering splits his side and it's all he can do not to scream. It doesn't end. It's hot, so hot, a bed of coals wanting to burst out of his skin.
The voice shushes him. "The heat will help," it says. "It will draw out everything bad in the wound."
He doesn't care if it will make the wound disappear entirely as if it had never been, he wants more than anything for someone to just make it stop.
For time immeasurable he lies there trembling, every muscle painfully taut, one of Lagertha's hands resting on his uninjured shoulder as her voice weaves in and out of his consciousness. He can barely think for the pain in his side, can do no more than pray for an end to it.
The heat comes again, strong and bright and terrible, and then it dulls, fading to a throb in the darkness. The cycle goes on and on, broken only by the occasional hand resting against his forehead or gripping his own. Shadows and demons and smoke and things with vicious teeth swirl around him, and he's too weak to fight them away...
He tries to focus only on the hand thumbing the sweat-drenched hair from his forehead, or the distant words from faces he could not see. It did not dull the pain in the slightest, instead overwhelming his already fragile senses.
Hours must go by with that horrible heat burning him from the inside out, never truly leaving. He can't sleep, there's too much heat and too much noise, voices all around him...
The voices grow louder, like there's a thousand instead of two. Someone is saying his name louder than normal, he has to wake up but he can't...
He blinks hard, and the unfamiliar face of an old man comes into focus above him. It swirls, fire-red and melting...
"This will be quick," he says, "but it will be painful. And the pain may linger when it's done."
"No - " he croaks out, just barely, but the rest of his words fall out of his mouth and get lost. Where is he? What are they doing to him? It's so dark, where did Lagertha go? Where did Ragnar go?
A hand puts something soft between his teeth. No no no - he has to get away this is wrong this is wrong --
The scream that leaves him is as much from surprise as from the searing pain that follows, so sudden and bright it turns his world red.
He's on fire. Whatever they're doing is worse it's worse it's worse.
Nails in his hands. They're driving nails into his flesh. He's being branded, he's being eaten alive by something with too many teeth...
He struggles but is held down, his arm is tied tight to him and there's a whole different pain in his leg and if he's screaming he can't hear over the pounding in his head and he can't breathe...
And it ends. Something lifts, and it's over.
Someone speaks. His eyelids flicker, and from the end of a dark tunnel he can see figures near him, prodding and stabbing and poking him and making him hurt...
The old man was right, and a shadow of the agony lingers. A weak moan escapes him. The wetness on his cheeks might not be sweat. He wants to pass out, but doesn't.
He feels flashes of half-things instead. Somebody prods his side again and he doesn't have the strength even to cry out. Another hand pulls the cloth from his mouth. His teeth ache from clenching them, his throat is raw. Someone's running a wet cloth over his face, his neck, his chest. Water comes to his lips and he's barely able to choke it down. He's cradled in a dark red bundle of flames.
Things go dark. Then he's awake and shivering uncontrollably and someone covers him. He's still shivering.
He opens his eyes and sees somebody sitting hunched by his bed, prodding. He fades away into smoke.
Something else is at his lips, sweet and herb-like this time. Voices swirl around him - he thinks the king of Wessex is there, but that doesn't make any sense. It goes dark again.
Then there's another voice, very close to him, and it frightens him how desperate it is. How scared. The words blend together and he knows he knows the voice, but cannot name it.
I'm sorry, it says. I know you can hear that. I hurt you. You will hate me for it
Athelstan's eyes are too heavy to open. The voice dwindles...
When he finally manages to pry up his eyelids, the room is empty. Dark. He still hurts, all over.
Don't leave me, he thinks. Someone was in his dreams, talking to him. A hand rested on his. Don't leave me. I'm still here.
But no one comes, and he is alone.
11 notes · View notes
The Court of Madness
───✱*.。:。✱*.:。✧*.。✰*.:。✧*.。:。*.。✱ ───
Walking back to the Palace, Ben had an odd feeling to report back to Sheogorath. To a Daedric Prince. He finished a few tasks for Daedric Princes before, but never like this. It was face-to-face.
This time they decided not to jog up those damn stairs in front of the palace. Ben looked up to see what time it was and the.... what they were presuming to be the sun was past being in the middle of the sky.
Sheogorath's task had been cruel and gruesome. Ben started to regret their choices of torturing those adventurers to their death. His heart suddenly felt heavy and they stopped in the middle of the stairs for a second. What kind of hero would do that? They weren't a hero then why did they feel that way? Why did they regret their actions?
The failure of a hero stared at the stairs for quite a while. They had to go on and so they did.
When they entered the palace, there was now a big dining table in the middle of the throne room. Two figures were talking at the table. One of them Ben knew from seeing them and the other one they didn't know. Ben slowly approached the dining table.
Both of the nobles looked up and the male bosmer happily greeted them, "There you are! Greetings! Let's not talk that much. Sheogorath wants you to talk to us later! So go on!"
The female bosmer who was dressed in a large black and silver dress decorated with fish scales lowered her eyebrows in disgust and asked very straightforward, "When did you last bathe?"
Ben was slightly taken aback by that question. Did they smell bad?
The jolly, male bosmer gasped, "Syl! You can't just be so straightforward- Champion, Let me explain... Sheogorath requires of everyone to bathe twice a week. Our Lord has something against smells and uncleanliness."
Ben signed that they had taken a bath two weeks ago.
Syl nodded and leaned on the table, "You can take a bath after Sheogorath returns. That is usually when I take a bath."
The hero bowed sightly and thanked her for her kindness.
Syl shrugged it off and that's when the doors flew open. Ben straightened up and Sheogorath passed through the throne room.
"Ah! There is my little champion!"
The Daedric Prince was wearing nothing but a purple, see-through bathrobe and the little champion quickly avoided looking down as he came closer.
Sheogorath tenderly grabbed their face and squeezed it playfully.
"Such a good little mortal you are! Tell me how it was later!"
Ben tried to stop Sheogorath from leaving because they had to report about the knights of Order but he was moving quite quickly. Haskill was close behind him. Ben noticed both of the nobles longingly looking after their Lord and his -ahem- rear.
It was the right decision to swiftly search for the bathing room because it took a little while to find it.
The entire room was made out of stone slates and stone bricks with a few pillars to support the high ceiling. The gothic window looked beautiful.
Ben locked the door to the bathing room and started to remove their armor. They first removed their gauntlets and the arm pieces to gain a bit more mobility. Stretching was their best idea and they raised their arms far above their head. Then they bent over to release their legs from the five pounds each and opened the straps that held their cuirass on them. They took a deep breath and hoisted it over their head to put it down on the ground.
With forty-four pounds off their body, they could finally take a deep and effective breath.
They undressed and looked down for a while. Their belly was a little bit flat at the top but quite curved lower down. Ben sighed and held their belly while walking over to the bathtub. They first tested the temperature of the water shortly before carefully jumping into the bathtub and submerging completely in the water.
They aggressively scrubbed their face and stubble to get rid of any dirt. He then opened their bun and scrubbed through his hair.
It took about an hour or so to get all the dirt off and Ben was fascinated by the drain of the bathtub. He watched as the water was drained and then wanted to get dressed but they heard a knock on the door.
Carefully, Ben peeked out of the door to find a set of clothes on the floor. They were beaded and gilded in Ben's favorite colors, blue and green. Ben looked to both sides and saw no one so they quickly grabbed them before vanishing in the bathing room again.
It fit them perfectly, but they still put the belt a little higher. Everytime Ben put on a belt, it just bothered them when it covered his belly. They didn't know why.
Suddenly there was no longer anyone in the palace and they were a bit confused until they poked their head in the throne room to see the entire court of the palace.
Sheogorath sat at the top of the table and called out to Ben's half-visible head, "You are late, you silly bird!"
Ben flinched at the loud voice and turned red from embarassment. They swiftly came in and closed the door.
"I hope you enjoy the garments I made you! Please... do sit down," Sheogorath's voice sounded angry but he had no indication of actually being angry.
The hero inched closer to the table and sat down on the only chair unused which was close to Sheogorath. They put his hands in their lap, being filled with pure anxiety from all the stares and glares. How could they be so stupid?
"Anyways!"
Sheogorath clapped.
"Let the food be served!"
All of the servants started moving and put food on the table after visiting the kitchen. Haskill was among them, but he only put down the rotisserie chicken before sitting down right next to Sheogorath's seat.
"The chicken is well-made, Haskill! Good job," he gave him a little pat on the hand while complimenting him.
Ben finally looked up to see Syl, sitting right in front of them. The male bosmer was sitting to their right and smiled.
"Don't worry, my little champion! You will be introduced to them soon! Let us eat first, though!"
Sheogorath savagely ripped a leg off the chicken and started chowing down while the rest started to put food on their plates.
Ben wasn't hungry at all now, but the male bosmer gave him a little push and whispered, "Not eating is rude."
Ben looked around to find something they would eat and they saw some stew near Syl. They inhaled while looking at Syl and she scoffed before handing them the pot of stew. He put a little on his plate and didn't know what cutlery to use. This was worse than any imperial event. The male bosmer gently pushed the outer spoon to them and the little champion understood immediately.
"So! Ben..."
The hero was just blowing on their stew.
"What was Xedilian like?"
Ben fidgited with their fingers and responded that they were attacked.
Sheogorath's smile faded and he mumbled, "What?"
We were attacked by white and grey knights.
Sheogorath started to dig their claws into the table and whispered, "And you didn't think to tell me?"
Ben wanted to sign that he insisted on getting the news at the diner table. At a leisurely pace Sheogorath arose from his seat. Suddenly he sprung onto the table and everyone started to move the food away from the middle of the table.
Sheogorath screamed, "And you did not think about telling me?! THIS IS AWFUL! DO YOU KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS?!"
Sheogorath bent over to directly face Ben who had their hands slightly raised, being afraid of getting hit.
He sighed and seemed calm for a second, "You don't know what that means."
Out of nowhere Sheogorath started jumping around on the table out of pure rage. His rage shook the walls of his palace and not just that. The entire Shivering Isles while he was screaming at the top of his lungs.
Everyone shielded their heads and Haskill pulled Sheogorath down on the table.
He panted while lying on the table.
"Everyone. Go back to your places."
Everyone started swiftly leaving while Sheogorath was starting to cover his ears.
"Except you, Ben."
Ben stayed put. Maybe out of shock, maybe out of respect.
"Go and socialize with your fellows."
Sheogorath covered his face and Haskill climbed on the table to comfort his master.
Ben fled into the House of Mania, but quickly had to take a deep breath before moving on.
Haskill walked after Ben to bring them another message from his master.
"Oh and Ben."
Ben turned around to look at the servant of Sheogorath who was clearly stressed.
"If you need to sleep, please do sleep in my chambers. Sheogorath does not want you to sleep among the common folk."
Ben lowered his eyebrows but nodded. Haskill vanished into the throne room again and Ben searched for Haskill's chambers while dragging their armor along.
They thought they had time to introduce themselves to everyone. No stress. They really needed a rest and they opened the door to Haskill's chambers.
For a servant's chamber this was beautiful. Ben immediately recognized the breton-style furniture. It reminded them of home. Ben dragged themselves to the carmine colored and fell face first onto it, falling asleep in mere seconds.
7 notes · View notes
brutal-nemesis · 3 years
Text
E&T Atonement AU-Sample Collection
Aight I return to y’all with this sexi lil bitch. Medical accuracy? Never heard of her 
←Previous - Erebus & Terror Masterlist - Next→
Ingredients: giant needle hours, lab whump, fingernail whump
That was, without a doubt, the largest needle he had ever seen. It was freakishly long and impossibly thick, and he couldn’t imagine it was for drawing blood.
He whined in terrified anticipation as Neteri sterilized part of his upper right arm, and did his best to keep himself from crying out into the gag as she cut out a small chunk of his skin and muscle. Then came the needle, sliding through the opening in his flesh. A shiver went up his spine as he felt it tap against bone, but oh, it didn’t stop there, it kept pushing, pressure building up against his bone until it punched through with a sickening crack. He screamed as a bolt of pain shot up his arm, shuddering as he felt the needle slide deeper inside his bone.
The needle stayed in there for a few minutes, drawing out whatever it was she wanted from in there. He kept his gaze focused on the now-blank ceiling, tears watering out his vision every few moments. He can never seem to stop crying nowadays, and today is no exception. When she slid the needle back out he couldn’t help but whine, escalating into a scream as her healing magic closed up the hole she’d made in his arm.
Something cold touched an equivalent spot on his left arm, and his heart sank. She was going to do the same thing again, wasn’t she? Yes, yes, once again his flesh was cut out and collected, once again the huge needle punctured his bone, once again everything was painfully healed up like nothing had ever even happened.
Next, she gripped his right thumb tightly, keeping his hand still, and he didn’t understand why until he felt something grab onto his fingernail and start to pull. He screamed but she kept pulling despite his muffled pleas of no no wait stop please I won’t ever try to run please- The pitch-black nail wrenched free, choking an inhuman cry out of him as raw agony raced up his entire arm. The pain almost doubled as she started healing it, forcing the fingernail to grow back unnaturally fast, wrenching out all manner of wails.
Even when the healing and the pain finally stopped, it was still too much. He sobbed, what was even the point of this if she was just going to heal everything back up? But he knew why, he knew all too well she was just taking away pieces of him so she could study them. It was all he was good for now, being sliced up and studied and put on display-
Her hand wrapped around his left thumb, pliers gripping the nail.
He screamed before she even started pulling.
Next→
Tags: @dramaticcollapse @thehopelessopus @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @galaxywhump @as-a-matter-of-whump @mnmlover2002 @tears-and-lilies @yet-another-heathen @rippedjeansandfadeddreams @starnight-whump @unicornscotty @thebewilderer @kixngiggles @itallstartedwithharry
24 notes · View notes
affishionado · 2 years
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
absolutely loved this monologue from the green knight and finally got the time to draw it out!! enjoy
id under the cut because it’s ridiculously long i’m sorry
[ID: an 11 page comic of the monologue about the color green from Sir Gawain and the green knight done mostly in monochrome green with a few splashes of red. The images are mostly of overgrown places and things and images from the movie of Gawain. The words read:
green is the color of earth, of living things, of life.
And of rot.
Yes
We deck our halls with it and dye our linens.
But should it come creeping up the cobbles, we scrub it out, fast as we can.
When it blooms beneath our skin, we bleed it out.
And when we, together all, find that our reach has exceeded our grasp, we cut it down, we stamp it out, we spread ourselves atop it and smother it beneath our bellies, but it comes back.
It does not dally, nor does it wait to plot or conspire.
Pull it out by the roots one day and then next, there it is, creeping in around the edges.
Whilst we’re off looking for red, in comes green.
Red is the color of lust, but green is what lust leaves behind, in heart, in womb.
Green is what is left when ardor fades, when passion dies, when we die, too.
When you go, your footprints will fill with grass.
Moss shall cover your tombstone, and as the sun rises, green shall spread over all, in all its shades and hues.
This verdigris will overtake your swords and your coins and your battlements and, try as you might, all you hold dear will succumb to it.
Your skin, your bones.
Your virtue.
panel 1- green is the color of the earth: a half underground view of a forest with a few plants and mushrooms and their roots underneath. The mushroom tops are red,
contrasting the green of the rest of it.
panel 2- of living things: the same forest above ground with some plants and trees and a buck peeking out from behind the middle tree.
panel 3- of life: an above view of the forest spreading across the land with a hawk flying above it.
panel 4- and of rot: a deer skull covered in moss, plants, and mushrooms.
“yes” is its own panel with plants growing around it.
panel 6- we deck our halls with it: the interior of a medieval castle with a high ceiling, stone walls, and green drapery hung along the wall.
panel 7- and due our linens: a length of fabric being lifted out of a bucket of green dye, dripping wet.
The illustrations next fill up the page without being in a panel and depict a cobblestone courtyard with grass and moss growing through the cracks in the ground. A mop and bucket stand to the left. This corresponds to “But should it come creeping up the cobbles, we scrub it out, fast as we can.”
panel 8- when it blooms beneath our skin: a triangular frame showing someone’s arm with green rot growing around the wrist.
panel 9- we bleed it out: the same image as above but a second hand cuts into the wrist with a knife, blood drips out of the panel.
the next lines, “we cut it down, we stamp it out” are not part of panels but have corresponding illustrations of a tree stump and a persons foot stepping on plants.
panel 10- we spread ourselves atop it and smother it beneath our bellies: Gawain is curled on the ground with plants growing out from under him. He appears as if he is kneeling before someone or has been defeated.
panel 11- but it comes back: the same image as above but his body has become overgrown with plants and mushrooms
The next section is not in a panel but shows an old castle, broken and overgrown with ivy and moss to correspond to “it does not dally, nor does it wait to plot or conspire”
panel 12- pull it out by the roots one day: this panel covers the bottom of the castle drawing and shows a fist holding a weed with the roots dangling from the bottom.
“and then next, there it is, creeping in around the edges” stands alone above an illustration of a small plant growing back up out of the ground.
panel 13- while we’re off looking for red, in comes green: gawain silhouetted against the sky with a red sun in it. Green follows behind him in a swath of plants and moss.
panel 14- red is the color of lust, but green is what lust leaves behind: two images of Gawain from the shoulders up. In the first he is facing left and looks happy. A hand reaches in from the left to caress he is face. In the second he looks to the right and has a sad/ resigned expression, and there is a smudged green handprint on his face and neck.
panel 14- in heart, in womb: an anatomical heart with mushrooms and plants growing out of it.
panel 15- green is what is left when ardor fades Gawain as king wearing his crown and necklace.
panel 16- when passion dies: Gawain stands with his back to the viewer looking out of a window. to his right is an unlit torch attached to the wall.
panel 17- when we die too: Gawain sits on his throne with his beheaded head in his lap, holding a green belt in his right hand.
“when you go, your footprints will fill with grass” is written over a full page drawing of footprints filled with grass. Small spots of blood are dotted around them.
panel 18- moss shall cover your tombstone: a moss covered tombstone on a grassy hill.
“and as the sun rises, green shall spread over all, in all its shades and hues” is written over another full page illustration of the sun rising over some hills, with green spreading out over them.
panel 19- this verdigris will take over your swords and your coins: a mossy sword sits at the bottom of a lake with a few old coins also scattered around.
panel 20- and your battlements: an overgrown castle turret with a door in it.
the las 3 lines- “and, try as you might, all you hold dear will succumb to it.
your skin.
your bones.
your virtue.”
correspond to 3 drawings of gawain’s decaying body on the forest floor. In the first he is mostly intact with only a few spots of mold and fungi. In the second his flesh had rotted away and is more consumed by plants. In the third there is barely a trace of him, only some mushrooms and a few scraps of cloth.
End ID.]
696 notes · View notes
Text
Izuku x Male Reader Smut
I'm a dirty slut, so .... yeah
Women DNI please :3
Warnings: you push friend boundaries in the fic but Izuku likes it so it's fine, bottom reader, top izuku, buff tan izuku, big tiddy izuku, God kink apparently, degradation, he calls you puppy, a bit of simp Izuku, breeding kink
Izuku wasn't a simp, okay? He was kind, he was courteous and pleasant to be around! But he always had boundaries with his friends and loved ones. Well....until he met you.
You see, Izuku had a not-so-obvious crush on you (shut it Bakugou). Ever since he met you at UA he kind of let you push any and all boundaries that he had put in place with his friends.
Now don't get the wrong idea! At first, when you both met in your first year at UA it was just little stuff! Like, using his clothes or borrowing a pillow. I mean that's what friends are for right? At least that’s what you told him.
He thought maybe he just needed to chill out and let loose his rules a bit. So you were a little friendlier about how you acted around him as opposed to your other friends, so what?
He could make an exception this once and that would be it!
But then you started getting even more comfortable.
And it was good! He was happy you were comfortable around him! It made his heart fly!
You were being a little touchier with him and it was just friendly stuff. Laying your head on his shoulder and in his lap or even just stroking his hair while you cuddle, but that's fine!
He likes it, he always has and always will!
You ask permission the first time you do these things and how could he resist sitting in the arms of a gorgeous man like you?
Then it stays that way for a while a little after UA.
You get a little bold every once in a while after that but it's nothing he can't handle.
He's working out and doing hero work so he has more things to focus on than his not so little crush anymore.
Even if he stays up at night thinking about all those touches. Thinking about your chapped lips and smooth skin beneath his hands. Thinking about your hands and how much he likes them. Likes them in his hair, massaging his shoulders. How much more he would like them if you tangled them in his hair and pull on it as he's fucking you into his mattress. How much he'd then like it for you to yell and scream his name as he absolutely pounds you into his sheets. How much he wants you to cry and scream his name until the neighbors bring noise complaints and you have a sore throat the next day from it.
So yeah. He doesn't have the time.
Until one night you show up to his door. It's late, almost 4 in the morning, about 2 hours after he comes home from his agency, and he just hears these little knocks on the door. He thinks it's the rain at first until he gets a text from you asking him if he's up and if you could come in.
He's almost dressed and ready for bed but for you, he'd sacrifice any amount of sleep to make sure you're okay at any time of the night.
He opens his door to find you drenched from the rain. And he means soaked. You're shivering in these nice little skinny jeans and a white T-shirt. You're sobbing and your hair is spilling water onto his doormat. "Hey Izuku, is it-is it okay if I come in?"
He can hear just how congested you are, it seems like you've been crying for a while. "Yeah, just let me-let me get you a towel, are you okay?" You start sobbing in front of him and he gives you the towel as he comes back."Never mind, that was obviously a stupid question, come on in and go get a shower."
You're nice and warm by the time you come back to the kitchen, he's made you shower and given you some food. So now you two sit down on his couch and he holds you close to him. he's not saying anything and neither are you, but you know he wants you to talk about it."So, I kinda had a breakdown about some relationship stuff right now." You guys laughed at the obviousness of it.
"Did you want to talk about it?" He looks at you laying down on his chest, tangling your legs with his, in his shirt, in his pants. God he wished you would-
"Kinda, I don't have to if you don't want me to." He shook his head to the sides and you sighed deeply," I knew you would say that, okay, it's kinda embarrassing if I'm being honest."
He laughed at you, "Nothing could be more awkward and embarrassing for me to listen to than when you told me, in detail, about your crush on Bakugou." You contorted your face in distaste at him and he just kept laughing.
"Bakugou is hot and I stand by all that I said asshole." You shook your head. "But I was very embarrassing."
It got quiet again and you put your face in the crook of his neck. "So, I figured out that I ....fuck okay so...." You move back to face him and stare at him in the eyes. "Don't laugh but I realized I only want a sexual relationship with someone at the moment. I started crying because I felt like I'd been lying to myself and I've just been under a lot of stress lately." Your blush is not less bright than his at all and he can't do anything but avoid your pretty little face looking at him than to push you into his chest and look up at his wonderfully beautiful ceiling he's never had the time to admire before this.
"You could have said that to me without the weird eye contact but whatever, go on."
You laugh hysterically, a little high on your emotions, "Okay hear me out. I'm a hero right? And using a loved one as leverage is a very classic villain plan. So I thought that was why I didn't want a relationship. Now I figured out it's just the stress! I want something like that eventually but right now? I just want something with someone to destress."
You move your head up to look at him and he moves his hand away from the back of your head, his emotions are going haywire right now. What is he supposed to say to that??? Do you want him to find someone for you to hook up with or???? And then he realizes-"I am not setting you up with Bakugou-"
"-OH MY GOD SHUT UP ABOUT IT ALREADY IT WAS A ONE-TIME THING." You shake your head and laugh incredulously at him. "I'm allowed to be attracted to people who aren't good for me okay? Is it really that bad?" Izuku rolls his eyes at you, "Yes. Yes, it is."
You roll your eyes back at him," Whatever that's not what I wanted to ask anyway." you scooch up onto his chest a bit more and put your hands under your chin as you look into his eye with your best pleading face." Would you do me the honor of being my destresser?"
He could explode right now.
Like seriously what?
".....You want me to what now???"
"Would you rather I phrase it differently?"
"To make sure we're on the same page yes-"
"Fuck the stress out of me buff man."
"Jesus Christ." He practically lifts you off of him like a doll,"If you were going to prank me like this," he sets you onto his couch and walks to his bathroom to go wash the heat off his face, "do it over text next time."
You follow him into the bathroom," It's not a prank! I'm for real okay? Look-" he looks puts his head further near the sink, he doesn't want you to see his red face,"-the way I see it is we're both busy as fuck. We both are mature adults looking for something intimate, which you have not found yet may I add, that could both put someone in danger otherwise." He scrubs his face and takes a deep breath, turning his water off and looking at you calmly.
"Okay, first of all, fuck you. Second of all, why me then?" He knows he shouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth but he's not going to do this if it's just for the fun. He wants to actually mean something to you other than someone to fuck. "You could have chosen any one of our other friends. So why me?"
You grab his hands and lift them to your lips,"Izuku, I care about you so much. You're one of my closest and best friends in the entire world and I am so lucky to have you. You have supported me in any way you possibly could, and I hope that I've done the same for you. So I want us to support each other as much as we need in this." You look him in the eyes," Plus you could snap me in half and are one of the only people I could fight that has the stamina to keep going at me."
".....you're so fucking lucky I like you. Fine! Okay fine."
"YES!"
So for the rest of the night(morning?), you two plan out how this is going to work. Rules, boundaries, kinks (by god he's going to need a break), and what times you guy can and can't.
It works well actually. Better than Izuku expected. He's just ecstatic he gets to finally hold you.......until he doesn't.
Now Izuku knows you two discussed boundaries and the fact you can call each other practically any time but for the next week, he seriously couldn't get the mind power to just swallow his fears and call you up. Not to say he wasn't thinking of you, by god he did that every single day even more since then, he just didn't want to bother you.
But then you called him. It was 11 pm and you were very horny. He picked up the phone and immediately just, "Hello?"
"I need you to plow me into my mattress it's been a week, come over as soon as you can, I'll be waiting sir-"
And that was the end of the call. Your house is like 20 minutes away from his but he somehow made it there in 10. He didn't even text you he was coming, so you thought he was busy.
So you were just on your couch, scrolling on your phone until a rushed knock at the door, you opened it, and were immediately kissed on the mouth.
Just a whole ass surprise makeout, he holds you up in his arms and pushes you against the door. You pull away to breathe and just look down to see this large monster of a man pressing his massive chest to yours, heaving so out of breath like he'd just ran a marathon (he practically did). Just staring up at you so desperately, you're not going to lie it was a nice view. You laugh a bit hysterically as he kisses you repeatedly. Then he works his way to your neck, still holding you up with his arms but fondling your chest and ribcage. He nips your neck and sucks so hard you're sure to have some nice little hickies in the morning. You moan as he pulls on your nipples and rubs your pecs in his hands.
Your mind goes fuzzy as you hear him whisper, "Dirty little slut left me with nothing after your little call. Think it was funny?" He kisses your neck again, licking down to your collar bone, "Think it's funny to leave me with nothing? Just the thought of this dirty little pup begging me to come over?"
You moan into a laugh at the fact he seems more desperate for this than you are. "Laughing now are we?" You immediately quiet down, his hands travel to your waist, and grinds his leg into your crotch.
"Oh gods-" He pushes into you again as you moan,"-f-fuck!"
"Damn puppy. Didn't know you had such a dirty little mouth. Why don't you show me how you use that little mouth when I actually get started with you."
He takes you into your bedroom, pressing your hard dick against his own and sucking on your neck even more.
You pant heavily onto his shoulder shaking from anticipation as he brings you into your room.
He pushes you down on the bed into a folded missionary position. You're hazy and in hysterics, as he talks more, "God, look at you! What a fucking slut for me. Come on puppy look me in the eyes and tell me what you want."
You look up and his smile is devious. It's alluring. He's practically ravishing you with his eyes. He’s taking your clothes off and feeling you up, “Your tastey skin, so smooth and soft. Do you know what I’m gonna do to it puppy?” Your head is swimming with full unbridled warmth and lust, you can’t even respond so he takes your face in his hands and makes you look at him,” I’m gonna mark you up so well, give you all the hickies and bites I want to put on you until you’re barely unbruised. How does that sound?”
You yell out, “Yes! YES! Puppy will be good for you please? Want it so bad.” He laughs at your responses, leaving your naked body vibrating on the bed and he moves away to take his own clothes off. His toned muscles flexing without meaning to as he takes his shirt and pants off of himself. Sliding his boxers down his toned calfs.
You stay laying there, letting out hysteric laughs and panting as he stretches you out with his fingers. And he keeps his promise, biting and niping all over your thights and stomach. You fall from your hysterical high as he pulls his mouth away until he takes your dick in his mouth and you’re pushed all the way back up the hill, arching your back and crying out for him as you grab the head board.
God you haven’t been so sensitive since you don’t even remember when. He’s sucking you off and his fingers are reaching just the right spots in you. Sliding onto his fingers down to the knuckle of his pointer and middle finger, flexing and massaging just the right spot, just until he takes a deep breathe. Then he takes all of you into his mouth and presses down on your most sensitive spot,” OH GOD, FUCK! Yes~ IZUKU PLEASE, I’M CUMMING!”
You cream into his mouth so hard. He pulls himself up off the mattress and off your dick once he finished sucking it all out of you. He licks the rest off his lips and hums in delight,” You taste better then I’ve ever imagined.” Ah, you blush so red as he said this. You think to yourself, he was just saying it for dramatic effect. For the moment! It couldn’t possibly be true....
God if only you knew how true that is from him.
He pulls some of the excess cum off your dick and you shiver a bit at his fingers grazing your tip. His magic hands. And he brings them to lube his dick back up,” Gonna fill my puppy with their own cum, how about it, slut?”
His eyes are crazy, this is a whole new side of Izuku you’ve never seen from him. And by the gods above are you excited to see it.
He presses your legs down so they’re almost flat by your arms and climbs up halfway atop your thighs. He slides himself into you and,” f-f-UCK!” He’s fucking huge.
Your partners have been quite average in the past. Nothing to scoff at but not as big as Izuku. You feel lightheaded as he pushes himself all the way in. “Look at you, my pathetic little puppy, breaking on my dick. Not even halfway there pup, but I’ll be nice this time.” He stops and you thank god and curse at him as well. You feel like you’re gonna be ripped apart yet you still crave so much more.
He gives you a second to catch your breathe, then he leans over, presses your legs farther, and starts pounding into your pretty little hole. Absolutely destroying your insides. You’re crying and whimpering and all it does is drive him to go faster and harder. To milk all those pretty little sounds out of your pretty little mouth. You’re crying on his dick and it fuels his ego,” You’re crying already? God look at you, so pretty and stupid on my dick. Such a good useless pup. Never had dick this good. Are you seeing god or something pup?”
His smirk is returned with teary eyes looking up at him, drooling at him,” Ye-ugh fUck-yes God, love your dick so much.” Oh fuck. That’s new.
It was so hot, imagining you praying and worshipping “your God’s” dick. Izuku being rode by you as you cry out for your God.
He laughs hard and leans down to get a better grip on the sheets, stopping for a moment, and then pounding you into the mattress. It felt like he was trying to hammer you down into the mattress to press you hard enough you’d become one with it. “That’s right baby! Ahaha! You feel so good I’m your god? My little puppy’s so dumb on their god’s dick right?”
You cry out to him, repeating over and over,” God! My God! Please god!” And you cum hard, over and over on his dick for the rest of the night. Orgasming and being fucked through your over sensitivity again and again and again until dawn. He finally gives in after getting his fill of filling you up.
God, he was definitely the right one to go to.
And all Izuku could think about you as he cleaned up and got ready to go to sleep with you was how fucking thankful he was you broke all his boundries for him. And accepting the fact that yes, he is the biggest simp for you.
————
-Laika
1K notes · View notes
gagaslonina · 2 years
Text
Read Me A Story (Stepdad!Kepa Arrizabalaga)
Tumblr media
Masterlist
Word count: 1.2k
Summary: Nico’s nighttime routine is interrupted when Kepa is gone for an away game so you facetime him to help Nic get to sleep.
Thank you to @toastypulisic for being my beta reader and lovely bestie 🥰
"When are you coming home? Mum doesn't read our book with the right voices."
"You mean she doesn't do the accents like this?" Kepa drops into a horrible imitation of an English accent and you can't hold back your snicker. Nico's lip trembles and he shakes his head, his emotions all over the board thanks to the exhaustion from his match a few hours prior. 
"No, she doesn't do it right. I miss you, you do the voices the right way." Lying face down in your bed with his face smushed to Kepa’s pillow, you aren’t sure how Kepa can resist him. Nico hasn’t stopped pouting since he came home from school today to discover Kepa left for the Lille match without saying goodbye. 
"I'm sure mamá does a fine job," Kepa murmurs, eyes wandering to you. Your shrug makes him smile, "Okay, maybe not. I'll be home in a few days, bicho, can you put up with mum's bad voices until then?"
"No, I want you to come home." Nico pouts hard and silver lines his eyes. "Why can't you come over?"
Kepa's smile turns sad and your heart lurches. You smooth a hand over Nico's tangled curls that he hadn't let you brush out after his shower, now a tangled mess atop his head. "Kepa can't come home sweets, he has a match tomorrow. And it's way past your bedtime, you’re overtired. You'll feel better in the morning and we can watch the whole thing on the sofa, okay?"
"But he's not that far away, can't he come here for a little bit and go back tomorrow? I can get the money from my bank." Nico's expression brightens at his stroke of genius as he turns back to the phone. "Yeah, can you Kepa? Mum can send you money and you can come over!"
Kepa reluctantly shakes his head. Nico's shoulders slump and he flops against the bed. He scrubs his tired eyes and stares up at the ceiling whilst Kepa silently apologizes to you for upsetting Nico. You give a miniscule shake of your head to dismiss it; Nico would have been crabby either way.
"I miss Kepa." Nico whispers the words so quietly you almost miss them. Whenever Kepa left for an overnight away match, Nico didn’t know what to do with himself. For whatever reason, if Kepa was still in London Nico was fine, but knowing Kepa was out of the city was always upsetting.
"He misses you Kep," you murmur, angling your phone so Kepa can see how lost Nico looks. Anguish flashes across Kepa's face, there and gone before Nico can notice. He hates leaving you and you suspect he hates leaving Nico even more. Kepa glances at the clock on his bedside before mumbling something and sighing. 
"Nic, go grab your book, I'll read you a chapter. You can sleep in mum's bed tonight and pretend I'm there, si?"
Nico looks at you to confirm before reluctantly sliding from your bed and handing your phone back. "Okay, I guess."
You flip the camera so Kepa can see Nico shuffle down the hall, only flipping it back once he is out of sight. "You should be sleeping, Kepa." 
"Well hey to you too, mamá," Kepa murmurs, the words sounding like home on his lips. You fold your feet under you and pretend Kepa's head lay in your lap, your fingers itching for the feel of his rough curls on your skin. 
"You're tired baby, I can tell. Have you not slept yet?" Kepa’s yawn only highlights your statement despite him disagreeing.
“Not tired, just missing my two favorite people.” His pretty dimples come out to play when he gives you a sleepy smile, one of your favorite sights. "Rough match today? How'd he do?"
"Conceded three goals before the gaff subbed him off at the half," you say, the fact dragging a sympathetic hum from Kepa, "but only one was his fault. The other two were just poor defending."
"Okay gaff, if you say so." Kepa's familiar smile warms your bed and for a second it's like he's beside you. At least until reality sets in again and you're staring at a screen while Kepa tells you about his day and Nico wiggles his way under your arm so his face is in the frame, too.
"I got it," Nico mumbles, holding up the chapter book. A few pages are dog eared and the front cover has a bent corner. It's well loved, having been toted around in kit bags and dropped in a puddle or two but Kepa has been reading a few pages to Nico each day he's stayed over and Nico subsequently took it with him everywhere. 
"Have mum send me photos of the next couple pages so I can read them," Kepa says, to which Nico cranes his neck back and holds up the book. You send photos of the rest of the chapter to Kepa as Nico cuddles in tight against your chest. 
Kepa flicks through the photos as he bites a nail. "So remind me what was going on, bicho. It’s been a few days since we read." 
Nico's nose scrunches up, "Don't you remember? They just got back to the tree house and were about to get back home."
"Si, right, okay. I'll start, but you try to sleep, got it? Mamá said you had a long day." Nico's yawn causes Kepa to chuckle. "Try and rest. I'll read." 
Kepa's lashes brush his cheeks as he reads, hitting every accent just like Nico wanted. The late hour combined with Kepa's silky voice has Nico drowsy in a matter of minutes. As soon as you start playing with his curls he's out like a light.
"He's asleep," you mumble, fingers still carding through Nico's hair. "Thank you, Kepa. I don't know how long he would've been awake if you hadn't picked up."
"De nada en mi vida." Your eyes track the muscles that move in his neck when Kepa yawns and settles deeper into his pillows. "He's just like me, I always fall asleep when you do that."
"Well, what can I say? Taking care of my boys is much easier when one is a carbon copy of the other. At least now I know all it takes is five minutes of the Magic Treehouse to have him snoring away."
"Five minutes read by yours truly," Kepa murmurs, not passing up the opportunity to tease you. "Do you want me to stay on until you fall asleep, too?"
"Thank you, Mr. Sandman," the nickname brings out Kepa's thousand watt smile that makes your heart skip, "but I think you need to sleep more than I do. Bicho here will have my arm in pins and needles in ten minutes and I'll have to tuck him in on your side so I can get some decent rest." 
Kepa hums softly, pulling his blanket over his chin. "Te amo tanto cariño, sleep well. Give bicho a kiss for me."
"I will darling. I love you too, now please sleep before I have Tommy breathing down my neck about you being exhausted."
"Goodnight," Kepa whispers a final time, eyelids drooping already. You blow him a kiss and his sleepy smile sets you alight.
"Goodnight, papá bear. We love you."
209 notes · View notes
yournameoneverypage · 3 years
Text
Confessions
Tumblr media
Shawn x reader.
Word Count: ~1.5k
Warnings: Drinking/drunkenness, blink and you'll miss it angst.
// * // * //
You rested your head back against the front passenger seat of Shawn’s Tesla and closed your eyes. “I drank too much.” He had picked you up from a girls' night out with your friends. You had been ready to go home before the others and Shawn had told you to never hesitate to call him if ever you should need to.
“Just don’t puke in my car,” he snickered. “We’ll be home in ten.”
You rolled your head to the side and met his eyes as he glanced at you. “You really didn’ have to come,” you said softly.
“Of course I did. I wanted to make sure you got home safe.”
“But your friends...”
Shawn had had a few of his friends over at his place that evening. He had chosen to not drink much himself, anticipating a possible call from you.
“It’s just Brian left. He crashes there all the time.”
“When am I gonna meet ’em?”
“When I’m ready to share you with them,” he smirked.
“’m yours,” you whispered, small smile on your lips, and closed your eyes again.
The thought of you being his made his heart skip.
// * // * //
Once in the elevator, you placed your hand on Shawn’s shoulder for balance and slipped off your heels. You exhaled in relief. “That’s better.”
He took your shoes in his own hand and when the elevator door opened, he said, “Hold on to me, honey.”
You bubbled, “’m not so drunk I can’t walk!”
“I beg to differ. You almost bit it getting out of the car,” he teased.
“You have good reflexes,” you said, wrapping both of your arms around his bicep as you started down the hall.
Stopping in front of your door, Shawn asked, “Where are your keys, Sweetheart?”
“In here. Somewhere,” you mumbled, letting go of him to dig through your clutch.
“Give it here. I’ll find them.” Cell, cash, credit card, dark pink tinted cherry lip balm, a-ha, keys, and, “Condoms? I didn’t think you were that kind of girl.” He smirked, trying to conceal the disappointment in his voice.
“’m not but the twins are,” you giggled.
It shouldn’t have mattered if the condoms had belonged to you. Still, Shawn found himself profoundly relieved.
Unlocking the door and stepping inside, he set your heels on the shoe rack and hung your clutch from a wall hook.
He led you to the kitchen and made you sit on one of the stools at the island. “Let’s get some food in you. You’ll thank me in the morning.”
You watched intently as Shawn cut an avocado, removed the pit, and scooped out the flesh. He mashed it and added small pinches of garlic, sea salt, and pepper and then put two slices of whole grain bread in the toaster.
“I haven’ been drunk since college... "I do stupid things when I’m drunk.”
“We all do stupid things when we’re drunk,” he chuckled, taking a glass from the cupboard and filling it with water.
He was about to pass it to you when you said, abruptly, “I kissed some guy at the club.”
He lost his grip on the glass. It hit the ground with a crash and shattered.
“Shit.”
“Lemme help,” you said, starting to move from the stool.
“No, you need to stay right there while I clean up. I don’t want you to get hurt.” He laid a dishtowel over the mess before retrieving a new glass and trying again. This time he successfully placed it before you, followed by a slice of avocado toast. “Eat.”
You ate dutifully while Shawn sopped up the water and swept up the glass. He found a post-it and wrote:
No bare feet in the kitchen!
He stuck it right where you would see it in the morning. He wasn’t sure if he’d gotten all the slivers.
Shawn polished off the second piece of avocado toast himself while leaning elbows and forearms on the kitchen island across from you. “Finish your water too, angel.”
“Thank you for taking care of me,” you whispered.
He smiled tenderly. “You would do the same for me. Now, come on. Time for bed.”
He followed closely behind you as you made your way to the master bedroom. It would be the first time he had been in your room; he was undeniably curious. He slipped his slides off just outside the bedroom door and crossed the threshold.
It was a stunning space. King-sized, hard maple, canopy bed, likely custom made, with matching bedroom furniture. The bed rested on a large rug which felt ridiculously plush beneath his bare feet. Above the low-rise dresser hung a 50” flat screen television.
Shawn was pulled from his perusal when he heard you apologize. “I’m sorry.”
“Why?”
“I feel guilty.”
“For what?”
“For kissing someone else.”
“You can kiss whoever you want, babe.”
“’cept you,” you sighed. “He wasn’ even a good kisser. Too sloppy. Too eager.”
“Of course he was eager. You are gorgeous. And darling, in this dress...”
“Which I can’t wait to get outta.” You reached behind you and started to unzip it.
“Whoa,” Shawn said, spinning away, flushing.
You giggled and hiccupped. “I’m not gonna get naked in fron’a you! I just need outta this damn dress! Help me!”
He stepped up behind you and moved your hair to the side.
While he slid the zipper all the way down to where it stopped at the dimples above the swell of your bottom, you confessed, "He coulda been your twin. Or maybe I jus’ saw your face in his ’cause you’re always in my head.”
Before Shawn could even digest that, your dress fell from your body to the floor. He groaned softly. You were wearing a blush colored, lace, strapless bra and matching thong panties. He looked up at the ceiling and breathed deeply. This would be an inappropriate time to get aroused, but damn if you didn’t have the most amazing body he had ever seen.
Suddenly unsteady, you swayed on your feet. You reached out to grab the bedpost, almost missing it, but Shawn was there to catch you, again.
He chuckled. “I need you to sit down so I can find you something to wear to bed without worrying about you faceplanting.”
“I should take a shower.”
“In the morning, love. I’m afraid you’ll stumble in the tub and hurt yourself.”
“I gotta’least wash my face an’ brush my teeth.”
Shawn stood beside you, holding your hair back, while you scrubbed your face pink and brushed your teeth. He then had you sit on the chair at your small vanity while he went to choose something from your dresser drawers.
He returned with a pair of white boy short underwear with rainbow hearts all over them and a white racerback tank top.
“I like these,” you said about the boy shorts. “But I don’ want this.” You handed the top back to him.
“What do you want instead?”
“Can I wear your shirt? It’ll smell like you an’ I’d really love that.” He was wearing a simple white button-down.
“You’re lucky I’m wearing a tank top underneath, and that I have a hard time saying no to you,” he chuckled, undoing the only three buttons that were fastened, slipping it from his shoulders, and handing it to you. He then waited on the other side of the door to give you privacy to change.
You exited the bathroom, thankfully seeming to be a little more stable on your feet. He bit softly on his bottom lip; he liked how you looked in his shirt.
“Come on, babe. Into bed.”
You crawled to the very middle of the mattress. He retrieved the brush from your dresser and positioned himself behind you. He gently brushed your hair out before loosely braiding it. That way, should you wake up sick, at least your hair would be out of the way.
When he had finished, you glanced back at him over your shoulder. “Do you really think I’m pretty?”
“You are the most beautiful woman I have ever known,” he said softly, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear.
“Then why don’t you want me?” you whispered.
He kissed your shoulder and breathed in the scent of your soft, warm skin mingling with the smell of himself from his shirt. His heart began thumping in his ears. You probably wouldn’t remember any of this in the morning, which made him braver than he would be otherwise.
“I want you, more than you can imagine, and that scares me,” he murmured. “You were…unexpected. You walked into my life and turned my world upside down so quickly; it’s making me question everything. I feel unbalanced around you.”
“’m sorry, I didn’mean to.”
“I wouldn’t wish it any different,” he smiled tenderly.
Shawn helped you settle under the covers and retrieved a glass of water and two ibuprofens to set on the nightstand beside the bed. He also moved a small wastebasket to within arms’ reach.
He crouched down to level himself with you and gently asked, “Do you really want to kiss me?”
You exhaled, your words almost imperceptible, “Every damn day.”
He took a deep breath. “If you remember any part of our conversation tomorrow, I’ll let you,” he promised. “Damn the consequences.”
// * // * //
@mendesblurb @benito-mi-vida
240 notes · View notes
insomniamamma · 3 years
Text
Safe: Ezra x f!reader w/Cee
A/n: What can I say? I'm hormonal and all my shit hurts and if I cannot get snuggles IRL then I will write something super soft and self-indulgent to make myself feel better. Part of the Prickle AU. Set sometime after Sacellum.
Warnings: Oh no! There's only one bed. Soft!Ezra. Language. Cee's best friend on The Pug is non-binary and also named after my little boy's favorite stuffy. Maybe the slightest bit of angst. But mostly super soft.
         "You did this on purpose."         "Right hand to Kevva, I did not. I asked for double occupancy and they must have misunderstood and--"         "You don't have a right hand,"         "Let's go back to the reception desk," says Ezra, "We may be able to negotiate more appropriate accommodations."         "Errgh," you groan. Reception had been a nightmare, three freighters worth of traffic trying to secure berths all at once. It was a lot of people. Too many for your liking. Cee was staying with Kit and their family. Kit and Cee had practically tackled each other right there on the dock, everyone else forgotten, walked away arm in arm.         "We shove off in three cycles," Ezra hollered at her retreating back, and she flapped a dismissive hand at him. You had to smile. For three cycles Cee gets to be a normal teenager hanging out with her best friend without worrying about points and pulls and overhead costs and fuel margins.         "I don't wanna go back down there," you say, "Too many people. I think twice the population of Falnost was waiting in that fucking line." You brush past him and into the suite. The ceilings are low and slightly curved and it feels strange to be under this much grav. The outer rings of Puggart Bench have something close to terra-normal gravity, but after so much time spent on little moons and worldlets, this much G feels weird and you have no desire to trudge back down to reception.         "You sure?" Asks Ezra.         "Yeah," you drop your day bag and press a hand to the mattress. "Look at the size of this thing. It's, like, five crash-couches wide. This seems above our pay grade."         "They're overbooked," says Ezra, "We're paying the same points for the berth we should have gotten. I made sure of it. I can sleep in that recliner if--"         "No."         "No?"         "Kevva, Ez, we're both adults," you say, "I think we can share a bed for a night without exploding."
        Your suite has a real, honest-to-Goddess shower with a generous 15 minute timer. You scrub as fast as you can and then just let the water hit you, let the pressure pound on your tense back muscles until the chime sounds and the water cuts off. You towel off and dress, soft clothes you sleep in, and pad out into the main room. Ezra is reading, face far off and serious, and you just look at him for a minute, illuminated in the warm lamp-light, absorbed in his book, little furrow between his brows and then he looks up, all knowing smirk and dancing eyes, he's caught you staring.         "Your turn, Ez," You say and turn your face away. Kevva. This man. You've been trying to keep things professional, but it's a losing battle. His flirtations make you flush, but he's never tried to push you, never tried to leverage the fact that it's his name on the ship's title, that you signed a contract, that you are junior-most crew. You feel safe with him. And, from your limited experience in the fringe, that is a miracle in itself.
        Ezra sets his book aside and heads for the bathroom. You peel the sheets from the other side of the bed and settle in. There's a media player bolted to the wall, but you just want quiet. You switch off the lamp on your nightstand (we both have lamps, we both have a nightstand, how weird is that?) The sheets feel deliciously cool against your skin. To be clean and sleeping in clean sheets...if Heaven isn't like this Kevva's got some answering to do.         Ezra sings in the shower. You're barely awake and you smile. Ezra can't carry a tune in a bucket, singing fringeling songs and reels, stories of mercs and pirates and ghosts and you drift off to the sound of him, the sound of the water running.
        He sees you soft and loose and asleep. No rail-gun, no body armor, no thrower under your pillow. Your face slack, snoring slightly. You've kicked out of the blankets and lay curled as if chilled.         "Hey Artichoke," he murmurs, pulls the blankets up and tucks them around you, "Let's get you warm, yeah?"
        Ezra wakes. Bleared red numbers of the clock saying that this is still the deepest ditch of local night. Ezra is warm and confused. He feels you pressed against him, your chest to his back, an arm hooked around his middle, your legs entwined with his. You've sought him out in your sleep and folded yourself around him, your breath slow and steady against his nape. Ezra's eyes prick with tears. He can't remember the last time he's been held like this. He's had lovers. He has payed for sex on the less reputable Benches of the Great Arm, but for someone to hold him? For someone to touch him without payment, without trying to press some advantage, gain some kind of leverage, without priming him for the inevitable backstab?  He is overwhelmed. He tries to wriggle away from you, but your arm just tightens around him.         "...fixed the transponder," you mutter against his neck, "told you we didn't need...told you..." He pats your arm and relaxes against you.         "Okay, Artichoke, okay, sweetheart. Go back to sleep."
        You wake enfolded, Ezra's good arm wrapped around you. You feel the steady beat of his heart beneath your ear, the slow sussurration of his breath, the snores that catch in his throat and turn to murmurs, the rise and fall of his chest beneath your cheek. You've tucked yourself against him in your sleep. Your hand rests on his sternum. Oh Kevva. What are you doing? You go rigid.         Your first impulse is to wrestle out of his hold, take one of the blankets and install yourself in the recliner that you wouldn't let Ezra take, but part of you wants to stay right here in the combined warmth of your bodies, feeling his breath, his heart, his calloused palm spread against your shoulder. You shift, making the smallest effort to pull yourself away and his arm tightens further, a low, sleepy chuckle reverberates through his chest.         "Hi Ez,"         "Hi." He strokes the pad of his thumb along the exposed curve of your shoulder.         "I'll get up," you say, even as he shifts and cups the back of your head in his palm, tucking you closer.         "You don't have to," he says, voice rough with sleep. This gesture pricks at your heart. Coming up on Falnost has made you hard, guarded, there has been precious little gentleness in your life, pulling rocks out of the parched ground since you were big enough to lift a shovel. Learned to fight and shoot to chase water-thieves from the homestead. He strokes the back of your head like one might pet a skittish cat and your heart squeezes.         "Ezra?" You hate how small your voice sounds, you hate the uncertainty you hear there, "Are we okay?"         "Of course we are," he says, "Why wouldn't we be?"         "I wrapped around you like a Bueller's world python and I did it in my sleep-"         "The wrapping was mutual-"         "You're not mad or uncomfortable or anything?" He laughs again, gentle huff of breath against the crown of your head.         "Mad about waking with you in my arms? The day I'm mad about that you can just shoot me in the head and send me to Kevva because I will surely have lost my ever-loving mind." You smile against his skin and relax some, your hand unfists and you curl your arm around his soft belly, feel his breath hitch.         "Tickles."         "Sorry." You feel yourself drift, skirting the edge of sleep. He is warm and solid and you let yourself relax against him.         “This feels...safe..." you say, so close to sleep that you're not sure if you've said it aloud or if you've just thought it. And you're not sure if you hear his response or dream it, one word. Always.
        "She's late," says Ezra.         "We still got a sixteenth to button up and board,"         "Still," says Ezra, "Yon freighter will leave with our pod wether we're strapped in it or not." You see Cee and Kit, trailed by Kit's parents, weaving through the crowd. Cee is beaming, her blonde hair has a brilliant streak of blue, and Kit has a matching streak in their hair.         "Hey guys!" Cee hugs Ezra and then hugs you.         "How was your shore leave, Little Bird? I like the fancy hair."         "Isn't that cool? We've got matching streaks," says Cee.         "It's semi-permanent," says Kit, "We'll pick a different color next time!" You have to smile. Cee looks revitalized. Three cycles spent with her friend, just doing normal kid things has been good for her.         "Check this out!" says Cee and pushes a laminated drawing towards the two of you. Ezra makes a show of looking carefully.         "I recognize you and Kit," he says, "I am not familiar with these other people, though."         "They're from The Streamer Girl, dumbass," says Cee, "Here's Clo and Reive and Lily and Auri. See? Kit put us right in the story." Ezra gives Kit his best smile.         “You drew this? You are very talented." Kit smiles big.         "Thanks!" says Kit, "I'll put you guys in the next one! Maybe you could be professors at Bowsun Academy or something."         "I look forward to it," says Ezra.         "Time to go, Cee," you say and Cee and Kit exchange one more enthusiastic hug.         "Later fringeling!" Calls Kit.         "Piss off, stationer!" Cee calls back. Ezra curls his fingers around yours and squeezes. Cee tells you all about her three cycles with Kit, the movies they watched, the Real Food they ate. How Kit's little brother wanted a blue streak in his hair too and Kit's parents said no and how mad he got. I wanna be cool like Kit and Cee.         "I told him he's got plenty of time to be cool," says Cee, "And he told me that I don't understand how the world works. He's like, four." Ezra laughs.         "Wise for his years." Says Ezra. And the three of you fall quiet. You find the pod much as you left it, towed to the Polly Jean and clipped in, transferred by the station's tugs. You settle in and do a full systems check. Calling out the checklists and making sure everything is good for transit.         "What are you guys so happy about?" asks Cee.         "Whatever do you mean?" asks Ezra.         "You been all smiles since I hit the dock," says Cee, "Both of you. Did we score a really good job? Did we win the Puggart Bench lottery or something? What aren't you telling me?"         "That," says Ezra, "Is for us to know and you to endlessly speculate about."         "Hmph," says Cee.
Tagging: @oonajaeadira, @grogusmum , @honestly-shite, @writeforfandoms, @ladyvengeancesposts, @the-blind-assassin-12
115 notes · View notes
blinderspeaky · 3 years
Text
Amoret | Tommy Shelby
Tumblr media
A/n: So this is my first piece of writing here and I apologise if it's too long! idk how accurate this is but I had fun writing it so that's all that matters I guess
Cora is going through a dry spell because everyone is too scared to make a move on her because of her best friend, Thomas Shelby, so he takes matters into his own hands -- literally.
Word count: 23,450
"I can't believe you did that." I flirtatiously giggle as if I didn't have to scrub my hands raw to get rid of the blood from the gory mess that happened just a few hours prior.
"I needed to get out somehow, I just didn't realise I was trashing hundreds of pounds worth of art." The handsome stranger laughs, leaning into me as we get more familiar and comfortable with each other.
"Terrible, just terrible." I smile fondly, my red lipstick gleaming at him as I fiddle with my fruity cocktail.
"I must say, you have the most gorgeous smile, if I knew how to paint I'd never run out of inspiration as long as you're around." The man charms and I have to suppress an eye roll.
What does a girl have to do to just get a bit of pleasure round here?
I'm not here to be charmed, I'm here for a fun time.
"Thank you, you really know how to charm a girl." I say, crossing my leg over the other, so that my leg is in between his legs from where he's sat on the bar stool.
"Only the pretty ones." He replies, pushing the little curled bits of hair framing my face behind my ear-- the rest of my hair is placed in a delicate low bun, pinned back with expensive pins. He rubs his knuckles against my cutting cheek bone, seemingly admiring my face. "It's unfair how beautiful you are."
"What are you gonna do? Kiss me about it?" I make the first move.
He smirks. 
"Thinking about it."
His eyes flicker between my eyes and my lips, and he's about to lean in when a voice interrupts.
"Cora." Tommy says as he walks up to us. "I'm going to head back to my office, I'll see you later to finish business, alright?"
"Yeah, just you?" I question, staring up at my best friend.
"Yeah, Arthur's pissed in the back room, thought I'd let you know, but everyone is still here." Tommy answers, giving my shoulder a squeeze.
"See yous." I sing, ready to turn back to my entertainment tonight.
"Bye." Tommy says and gives the handsome stranger a once over before leaning down to say something into my ear. I'm used to his teasing and he's used to my punches after, so I let out a huff, ready to hear what he has to say this time. "Careful, I've heard this one bites."
I look into his eyes with an annoyed look. "That's why I'm here."
Tommy lets out a quiet chuckle before wordlessly leaving the building, leaving me with the pretty boy.
Looking back at the stranger, I'm startled to find him wide eyed and inching away from me by the second.
"What?" I ask, taking a sip from my drink.
"That was... that was Thomas Shelby." He says, frozen.
"So?" I lift a perfectly arched eyebrow.
"He's a Peaky Blinder."
"So am I, yet you've been talking to me just fine." I state, knowing where this is going; this has happened way too many times recently.
People know of me but most people couldn't put a face to my name, which is why this happens a lot. I'm ready for the onslaught of rejection and a hint of terror.
"You're a Peaky Blinder?" He utters as if he can't believe it.
I nod.
"I've gotta, uh, go, have a nice evening but I must get going." He says and quickly gets off his stool to rush out of the room, practically tripping over his own feet.
Letting out a huff, I finish my drink before hopping off my stool to join everyone in the back room, everyone is more or less smashed, a slur of half hearted cheers go around room when I enter and it makes me smile. I sit down next to Finn, who offers me a cigarette, which I accept and light it up, tilting my head towards the ceiling showcasing the thin, long scar on my throat, I blow the smoke out, watching it billow towards the ceiling.
"Why are men so scared of me and Tommy?" I grumble.
"Because they know if they fuck up, either of you will rip their spleen out, darling." Polly comments, her slender fingers twitching her cigarette to drop off the ash. "Individually or together, doesn't matter." She adds.
"Match made in heaven... or hell, depends how you look at it." Michael states before downing his drink.
"How do you do it?" I ask Polly, taking a drag of my cigarette.
"Well, for starters, I'm not as ruthless as you and I guess I'm not attached to the hip with Thomas." She replies nonchalantly.
"What you need to do, right, Cora, is find a man who is handsome and can take a good punch." Arthur tells me and I raise an eyebrow at him. "Because whoever it is, he's gonna get punched by someone you know and by punched I mean shot."
"No one is bulletproof, Arthur." I say, not taking on his drunk advice.
"I am." John laughs.
"No, no you're fucking not." Finn retorts.
"How do girls not get scared of you guys?" I question, fiddling with my necklace. "On an extremely good day you guys can look intimidating and scary, how do you get girls?"
They all scoff at my teasing.
"Fuck off, alright." Arthur grumbles, knocking back another glass.
"The girls like the thrill. They come from a very traditional family and want a part of the danger but they also think they can change us." John answers my question seriously.
"Never fucking works though, does it?" Finn barks a laugh, nudging John.
We continue to chat for a while before I get bored and I'm still slightly pissed off about earlier, so I say my goodbyes not that anyone's really listening, too drunk to function so I slip out and step out into the brisk chilly streets of Birmingham.
Twisting and turning until I get to my destination, I open the door with the key I've had for literal years and brush my shoes off before stepping inside, closing the door behind me.
Making my way through the room, I wordlessly open Tommy's office, finding him sat at his desk going through paper work, cigarette in hand; he looks up, dropping his pen but goes back to his work.
"You're here earlier than I thought." He states, his tone light.
I huff, mad at him although I know it's not his fault.
"Same." I reply tightly, throwing my bag down into the little seating area in the corner of his office before I sit down in the chair opposite him.
"You don't have to be here, I can do this on my own, you know. I'm not forcing you to be here." Tommy replies in a sincere voice, taking a drag of his cigarette.
"I know, but no one wants me out there." I counteract, leaning back in my chair, a sour look on my face.
Tommy looks like he wants to ask but decides against it; he knows when I'll come around.
"Right, uh... so I talked to some connections and they said they know about the plans but are refusing to tell me any details, and I'm debating with either paying them a visit or selling their information." Tommy informs and just like that I'm back into business mode again, forgetting about my interaction from earlier.
Then we talk about business, business plans, plans for the future, and just random things whilst having a laugh.
As things are winding down, Tommy gets up to grab a drink from his own bar cart that he has in his office.
"Do you want one?" Tommy offers, looking over his shoulder at me.
"Sure." I accept and he gets another glass out, beginning to pour our drinks. I sink into my chair, rubbing my eyes as I let out a groan. I'm still bothered about earlier.
That guy just rubbed me the wrong way, it's happened plenty of times before tonight; I'm best friends with one the most notoriously dangerous person in the midlands, I guess tonight was just my breaking point.
If I saw him again, I wouldn't hesitate to send a few promises to him.
"Fuck, how come you can be a manwhore but I can't even get a single person to be interested in me for more than 20 minutes?" I question, accepting my glass from Tommy when he approaches me.
"Long enough to get the job done though." Tommy jokes, sitting down in the chair next to me, our feet hovering above one another where our legs are crossed. "I think it's a little thing called misogyny."
"Little thing my ass." I bitterly chuckle, taking a sip. "You're at fault for all this, by the way."
"The fuck did I do?" He asks with a light laugh, before taking a sip of his drink.
"You're the reason all these people get scared to either even approach me or go any further than some harmless flirting." I explain, tucking some hair behind my ear as I send him a look that only widens his smirk.
"Not my fault people are so delirious with terror when it comes to me." Tommy shrugs, placing his glass on the table beside his chair and he laughs at my disbelief.
"Yeah, because you definitely didn't put on a show at the garrison last month that we're still finding blood from." I roll my eyes fondly.
"Got to show my enemies what I'm capable of." Thomas brushes my words off. "And hey, it's not like you're innocent yourself. Didn't you destroy a guy's face so much they the police couldn't even identify him just a few days ago?" He teases, licking his lips.
"No, doesn't ring any bells." I shake my head.
"Funny, maybe that's why men are scared of you and won't approach you. I for one, am absolutely terrified of you." Tommy states, making me laugh knowing that's he's only half joking.
"Most people can't put name to my face so they generally don't know me, therefore it's your fault." I tell him, placing my drink on the matching side table next to me.
"Really?" He sighs
"Yes! Just earlier tonight I was talking to some guy and then you came along, Mr. I will cut someones ears off if they look at me, and you scared the bejeezus out of him, turned him into a puddle of foolery. Then I told him I'm connected to you and he freaked the fuck out, made an excuse to leave and he practically tripped over his own feet to get away from me." I reply grumpily, sitting up in my chair.
"Are you done?" Tommy asks, sending me a look.
"No, no I'm fucking not. I've not had sex in like 2 months, do you even know what that feels like? Most of the time it's not even me, it's you that scares them off!" I answer exasperated, watching him down the rest of his drink, placing the empty glass back on the table.
"No, I don't, actually. Why don't you just go outside of Birmingham for a fuck?" Tommy suggests, leaning forward on his knees.
"Fuck you. Mate, I've fucking tried and if we weren't literally sewn together that might work but everywhere I am, you are, vice versa. It's also such a faff to go all the way out or Birmingham for some dick that's probably mediocre. You ju---"
I'm cut off from my rant by Tommy's lips on mine.
I'm so confused and stunned by his actions that I don't know how to react. Freezing, I just sit there for a moment before I decide to kiss him back for a few moments before I pull back sort of abruptly, not in a big deal.
"What are you doing?" I question, searching his crystal clear blue eyes that are mere inches away from my face.
"If everyone else is so scared of me that they can't approach you, may as well take matters into my own hands." Thomas explains, and he gingerly cups my cheek, his thumb brushing over my cheekbone, his eyes soft.
I lean in closer to him, thinking over how this could play out, what it would do to our years long friendship.
It's no secret that we find each other attractive, we've said it to each other and everyone around us, but I can honestly say that nothing has ever happened between us. Two best friends that have expressed our admiration for each other.
I don't know if I want to ruin that.
Our friendship is incredibly strong and personal, I don't know if one steamy night could just throw that away.
My desire acts on it's own and as Tommy is searching my green eyes, I close the gap between us, moving in perfect sync with each other as I play with his hair and he squeezes my waist.
It's like I'm slipping into a trance and all I can think of is Tommy, I'm consumed with all things Tommy. This moment right now is making me feel lighter than air, I've got sparks on my stomach at how he's making me feel.
The burning need to be closer is killing me and it seems like Tommy is feeling the same as he uncups my cheek and places his hands on my waist, pulling me onto his lap.
Thomas agonizingly slowly trails his hand up my thigh, his fingertips grazing my exposed skin where my dress has risen up, leaving a trail of goosebumps behind. Tommy's hand comes in contact with the pocket knife stuffed into my stocking and he pulls away slightly, letting out a low throaty chuckle, "Classic Cora." He mumbles against my mouth, making me smile, and he pulls deadly weapon from my stocking, placing it on the table beside him. Giving my hip a momentary squeeze, Tommy swipes his tongue against my lip asking for entrance, parting my lips, his tongue meets mine and he begins to explore my mouth, seeing what gets a reaction from me.
His fingers find my precariously placed tied up hair, pulling the few pins out and then the hair tie, sending my thick, dark brown almost black curls cascading down my back, causing Tommy to let out a sound of appreciation and bury his fingers into my hair.
I don't usually have my hair down as it's easy to grab on to and it just feels more professional to have it up. I've also got so much of it that it gets in the way when I'm trying to work.
Disconnecting from Tommy I attach my mouth to his neck, leaving my mark. Tommy tilts his head, giving me space to find his sweet spot and he lets out a nice little moan as I set to work.
The pending feeling of his hand trailing my thigh is overwhelming and his fingertips approaching where I need him the most makes me pause, my bottom lip dragging up the skin of his neck.
"Do you want me to stop?" Thomas whispers into my ear, his pursed lips tugging at my earlobe.
"Fuck no." I consent, and his hand meets my underwear.
Beginning to confidently rub me through my underwear, I let out a shaky breath against Tommy's neck and I instinctively open my legs wider for him. His touch is as light as a feather, desperate for more friction, I grind on his fingers letting out a moan.
"Mm, sound so good for me." Tommy rasps, his teeth grazing the skin on my prominent collarbone. Moving my fancy lacy underwear to the side, without hesitation Tommy runs his fingers through my folds, collecting my wetness and bringing it up to my clit.
All I can do is bite my lip to conceal my moans.
Trailing my hand down his front until I meet is trousers and I begin to palm is growing semi, which makes him let out a groan.
I declare that as my favourite sound.
Suddenly in one swift motion, I'm moved off of Tommy's lap and placed right on the edge of his hardwood desk and he's standing right in front of me, his gorgeous blue eyes blown out, looking at me as if I were the only person in world, and he's hungry.
"You're really pretty." Tommy utters.
Before I can reply, Thomas captures my lips again in another sensual kiss that's full of tongue, noises of appreciation, and hands are roaming as we keep involuntarily grinding against each other.
Pushing his suit jacket off and watching it drop to the floor, Tommy's hands find the back of my dress, making quick work of undoing the expensive fabric, and pulling it off of me, leaving me in my lingerie that I definitely didn't plan on letting my best friend see tonight whilst he's in his trousers, crisp white shirt, and extortionate looking waistcoat.
"Wow." My best friend says, slightly out of breath, taking in my figure and how off guard and innocent I look.
Unlike the brutally violent and devious businesswoman I am.
"Unbelievable."
"Shut up and touch me." I chuckle bashfully, weirded out at how special he's making me feel.
I feel extremely exposed but in a weird way, I kind of like it.
Tommy smiles fondly and presses a series of short kisses to my mouth before I take hold of his lip, flicking my tongue against him, causing him to tighten his grip on me.
Disconnecting, Thomas kisses down my neck, leaving a mark or two on his way down, until he gets to my chest and I arch into him. Kissing my cleavage as he cups my right boob, his lips trail down my torso, leaving a trail of fire behind him.
Dropping down to his knees, Tommy takes hold of my hips pressing a gentle kiss below my belly button before he snaps open my garter one by one and effortlessly drags my stockings down my legs.
Grazing up my legs with his hands or mouth, Tommy after what feels like years pulls my panties down, throwing them out of sight, I watch as his eyes light up and if possible I feel even more exposed.
Flicking his eyes up to me, looking like he's asking for my consent, I brush my fingers through his hair and give him a subtle nod.
Burying his head between my thigh, Tommy licks a strip up my heat, making me let out a moan, and bury my fingers into his thick hair.
Leaning back onto his desk, Tommy pushes my thighs apart so he can get better access as he attaches his mouth so my core, sending me to all sorts of heaven.
"Fuck, Tommy." I whine, tugging at his hair as I arch my back.
"Let it out, we're here alone, scream my name, let me hear how much you want me." Tommy urges with a slight smirk.
Without any warning, Tommy pumps a finger into me and I conform to his wishes at that, not caring how loud I was being, I let his name fall from my lips along with my moans.
My legs shudder under his hand, he lapped at me as if I were his last meal, reveling in the sounds I was making, the sounds he was earning.
I was close and we both knew that, so Tommy speeds up his movements and adds another finger inside of me, curling up.
"Fuck, oh my god, Tommy, don't stop." I pant, tugging at his hair.
Tommy had me withering in moments, my fingers tugging at his hair which made him groan, only adding to the pleasure he was giving me.
"Fuck, I'm gonna---" I began which only spurred Thomas on, he sucked harder and pumped his fingers faster. My breathing hitched and shaky, breathy, and loud sounds left my lips as I clenched around him, my body shuddering from the orgasm he'd worked out of me.
He continues his motions making sure I'm done, then pulls his fingers out, standing up right, brushing some hair out of my face.
"Such a pretty girl." He whispers, eyeing my lips.
Tommy's thumb runs over my bottom lip and I open my mouth, he brings his fingers that were inside of me to my lips, and I stick my tongue out and he inserts his finger into mouth, letting me suck my juices off of his fingers; his eyes seemingly in a trance at how my mouth is working.
"Mm, just like that." He whispers.
Standing up to my full height, I guide Tommy to swap places with me and he's very much willing to do so, peppering kisses to his jaw before dropping to my knees, I innocently look up at him through my lashes, loving how he's so aware of all my movements and how he's like putty in my hands.
"May I?" I raise an eyebrow, digging my fingertips under his belt.
Tommy leans down and cups my jaw, pressing a deep kiss to my lips. "Of course." I grin in delight and snatch a quick kiss as he begins to retreat.
Undoing his belt, I take that off and throw it away before undoing his button and pulling down his zipper. Palming him through his undone trousers, Tommy lets out a hitched breath, it's a barely there pressure, enough to feel something but no where enough as much as he like.
"Stop teasing." He groans, bracing himself on his desk and his knuckles are milky white from how hard he's holding on to his desk.
I chuckle darkly. "Tommy, I haven't even started."
Continuing my actions mixing up my pressure and pace as he throws his head back in annoyance.
Pulling him out of his underwear letting him spring free, Thomas groans when I grab him, making my mouth water. This sight alone could give me immense pleasure.
The sight of me on my knees in front of him, him practically fully clothed with his dick out, just calling out for me to suck, all whilst in the middle of his office.
With my best friend let alone.
I would love to tease him for hours but the overwhelming urge to hear Tommy moan, moan my name and pull my hair gets the best of me.
Tightening my grip on him, I wrap my lips around his tip that's already leaking precum, sucking lightly, which makes him throw his head back in pleasure.
"So pretty, such a pretty cock." I utter, licking his entire length and wrapping my mouth around him.
"Fuck, Cora." Tommy gasps, threading his hand in my hair to keep me there, and I let out a hum, causing him to tighten his grip on my hair as he lets out an estranged moan.
Taking as much as I possibly can into my mouth, I begin to work my magic, pumping whatever I can't with my hand whilst Tommy breathes heavily and lets out his moans above me.
The sight of him with his head thrown back as he moans my name whilst he half heartedly guides me with his hand, too lost in the pleasure to properly commits to it, is ingrained in my mind.
We're completely lost in the moment, right now it's just him and I, there's nothing else in our mind except lust and each other, and I'm alright with that.
"Oh my... fuck, I can't l---" Tommy cuts his pleasured rambling off and lets out a large breath before pulling me off of him. "I wanna finish inside of you." Tommy states breathlessly.
I wordlessly stand up, more than willing to conform to his needs and begin to undress him, his hands pulling off his clothes as fast as he can until he's completely stark naked in the middle of his office with his best friend.
Realising I've still got my bra on, I undo the back and pull the straps down, watching it fall the floor.
Tommy and I stand in front of each other, completely enamoured with each other, feeling extremely exposed but I like it.
"Gorgeous." Thomas whispers before pressing his lips to mine, gingerly holding my face in his hands.
Thomas guides me back a few steps to his desk and I prop myself upon it, as Tommy's hands roam.
Taking hold of himself, Tommy runs his tip through my dripping folds, the both of us letting out a shaky breath.
"You ready?" Tommy questions, tucking some hair behind my ears before pressing his forehead against mine.
"Mhm." I hum, running my hand down his back.
Capturing my lips in a quick kiss, Tommy lines himself up with my entrance and pushes in until he's done to the hilt.
"Fuck." We say in unison, making us breathe a chuckle.
Beginning to move his hips, Tommy buries his face in my neck, dragging his mouth wherever he pleases, exploring my skin. I hold the back of his neck, trying to stay afloat as my toes curl, and we're too far gone to care when expensive things fall from Tommy's desk.
***
"You should wear your hair down more often." Tommy tells me softly as he's propped up on his elbow looking down at me as I lie on my back, settling into the fairly large seating area Tommy has in his office.
"It's so long, it gets in the way." I pout, rubbing my eye.
"I like it." He sincerely says, picking up a lock and twirling it around his finger.
We're have gentle pillow talk without the pillows, just looking at each other in a different way as we lie in our underwear in the warm room, talking in quiet voices as if the whole world could hear us.
"I like your hair, very imaginative." I tease, combing his locks with my fingers.
"Rude." He grumbles, poking me in the side making me jerk as I let out a laugh.
"When you first get it cut it feels like velcro." I chuckle, making him grin.
"Yeah, I've just got the worst barber." Tommy smirks, playing with my fingers.
"Bitch." I laugh, ruffling his velcro like hair.
Every other Sunday Tommy sits in my kitchen letting me cut his hair as we bitch about business or just forgetting about work altogether.
"Talented at your craft but the most annoying barber I've ever met." He shakes his head, amused.
"I tell you each time, I don't mean to tickle your neck or catch your ear, it just happens." I defend myself, making him laugh.
"I don't mean to stab you, it just happens!" Tommy imitates me, making me poke him in the ribs which only makes him laugh harder. "If only people knew of your barbering skills and not your knife wielding skills, maybe they wouldn't be so scared of you."
"If only people knew of your sewing skills, they wouldn't be so scared of your gun ridden hand." I retort with a fond smile, looking up at how pretty he looks in this light, with the small matching fond smile of his face.
"Shh, or I'll tell people you are a professional at juggling." Tommy smirks, pushing some hair out of my face.
"Yeah, with knives, that's cool as fuck." I reply, passionate about my talent.
"Careful or we'll send you away to go to the circus." Tommy chuckles, pulling me in for a smiley kiss.
I've always been known to wake up really late, always the last one up, the last one to finish breakfast if at all, and always the last one out of the door in the morning. It's not that I stay out really late, I'm usually at home at a reasonable time, I cosy down in my homely home, and I just relax after the usually hectic day and yet I still wake up late.
Except today.
I wake up tangled in a mess of limbs, Tommy's arms wrapped around me and I suck in a breath, wishing on everything in the world that he doesn't wake up. Easily slipping out of his grasp, I sit on the edge of the large ottoman, rubbing my face before letting out a sigh.
I need to get dressed and be out of here before Thomas wakes up, I do not want to have the awkward conversation of the morning after.
Quickly and quietly, I put my dress back on, throw my hair up as I approach the window, pulling one of the slats down to see what it's like at this ungodly hour of 5 in the morning, the Sun is just starting to rise, highlighting the permanent haze of smoke above Birmingham.
Shoving my ankle boots on, I tug the zips up and tip toe towards the door so that my heels don't click against the wooden floors.
Closing the door behind me as silently as possible, I let out a big breath when I succeed and begin to walk out the building that I visit everyday.
I know I'm going to see Thomas again in just a few hours but hopefully we'll both be consumed in work to talk about what happened. God I hope no one will pick up on what happened.
I don't regret last night at all and I can say that with my whole chest but I also love my friendship with Tommy, and I hope one night of mind blowing, amazing sex won't ruin that.
I've no idea where we stand and that scares me.
That's my best friend, he'll always be my best friend.
Opening up the door to my house that I never got to see last night, I begin to tidy up a few things as I've got some time before I have to head into work. This is my haven, this is wear I escape work, I try not to bring business back here, this is my safe place so I have to have it clean.
Shoving an old newspaper into the bin, I begin to make a bite of breakfast and head into my bedroom whilst it cooks so I can get properly dressed.
Pulling my wardrobe open, brushing my fingers over the hangers until I find a suitable item a clothing; a navy blue dress that gives the illusion that it's off the shoulder but it's got a see through mesh-like material hanging from my shoulders with tiny multicoloured flowers embroidered into it, it's cinched at the waist but it's got a wavy extra bit of fabric above my chest, the length is slightly longer than I usually go for as it's inches shy from my ankles, whilst I usually go for just below the knee dresses but I like it.
Just about being able to do it up myself, I pick out some appropriate shoes with a tall heel as I'm surrounded by a lot of men so I hate being the shortest person in the room.
Plus Tommy is quite a bit taller than me and he always teases me for that, so I use my heel to either kick him in the shin or step on his toes.
Gently brushing through my hair to make sure it doesn't frizz up on me, I throw it up in an intricate low bun, leaving some large parts out to frame my face.
Going back downstairs to fetch my breakfast which I eat whilst I read this morning's paper, before I head out of the door.
***
"Well I'll say, this has got to be a first." Arthur laughs, leaning back in his chair as I enter the betting shop.
"Wow," Polly starts, looking at her watch bewildered. "Only 45 minutes late."
Even though I got up at the ass crack of dawn, I'm still late as I may or may not of got preoccupied with the book I've been reading recently and then I got caught up chatting with some people on my way over here.
"I usually expect to see you at around 10 or 11." John smirks, taking his cigar out of his mouth.
"What can I say? Don't get used to it." I say, my eyes flickering towards Tommy's office where he seems to be as of now and I can't help by think about last night.
"It's almost as if you're acting professional and playing by the rules." Polly sarcastically replies, hovering above Arthur.
"Never." I shake my head, placing my bag on my desk then hanging my long coat on the coat hanger.
"Tommy's in a bad mood, so watch out." John jokes, swinging in his chair.
"Really?" I raise an eyebrow, looking at him.
"Well, he's not really in any mood, he's just brooding in silence and doesn't want to interact or talk to anyone." Polly rolls her eyes,making her way over to her own work station. "Maybe you can sort him out." She adds, with a small smile.
Doubt it.
"I've gotta get my forms so I have to interact with him." I huff and brace myself as I open the door to his office, I've never knocked before so I'm not gonna start now.
"Good morning." Michael greets me, sitting in the chair that Tommy kissed me in.
"Morning." I say back, my eyes flicking up to Tommy who's not taking his eyes off of his work in front of him.
"Do you even know what this time of day looks like?" Michael teases, and I roll my eyes.
"Don't worry, Michael, she's been up for hours, I'm sure Cora loves the sunrise." Tommy states before I can even think of replying to Michael.
I glare at him as he leans back in his chair, lighting up his cigarette not even looking at me.
If he wants to be hostile, I can always beat him at that.
"Practically pulled an all nighter, was busy with a piece of work." I tell Michael but my words are aimed at Tommy, and I'm right because Tommy can be a piece of work when he wants to be.
Tommy just exhales his smoke and looks at me devoid of any emotion as I refuse to look at him.
"Should've asked for a hand, I'd of been more than willing." Michael says, completely oblivious to Tommy and I's quips.
"No, couldn't do that to you." I wave him off. "Anyway, I only came in here to get my forms." I say, finally looking at Tommy in the eyes, waiting for him to give them to me as they're in his drawer.
He just stares at me, his cigarette burning in his hand, seeming like there's a million words in his head that he wants to say yet absolutely thoughtless at the same time.
"Run along then, Michael." Tommy says as he hands Michael a file, which Michael wordlessly takes and exits the room.
Letting out a huff, I walk around his desk and crouch down next to him to open his bottom drawer.
"You're a twat, Tom." I grumble, grabbing the wad and standing up.
"No what you were saying la---" Tommy gets cut off by me slamming the stupid forms on his desk and the grabbing his own gun from his holster and pressing it below his jaw as I hold his throat, pushing him back in his chair.
"Finish that sentence, I dare you." I prompt him, looking at his slightly taken aback eyes. "You know I'll do it."
He stays silent, clearly picking up on my vibe.
Putting pressure on my hands one last time before throwing his gun into his lap, gathering what I came in here for and leaving his office.
Tommy and I bicker all the time, disagree on extremely menial stuff but we only properly argue very occasionally but we always come around in the end because despite everything we love each other but god can we get on each other's nerves.
Not that I'd call that an argument, that was just a warning.
"We knew you weren't a morning person but fuck Tommy must've pissed you right off." Arthur laughs, as he chalks some stuff up on the big blackboard.
"More than you'll ever know." I grumble, and begin to get to work.
***
As the Sun sets, people start clearing out of the building as they finish their work, singing or grumbling a goodbye over their shoulder as they go home to their family or lonesome house. I could only dream of clocking out as I've still got a load of work to do and not even the kind I like, it's all admin and menial things that need to be done but I wouldn't consider it fun by any means.
It's kind of nice in a funny sort of way, it's dark outside and the lights are on illuminating the room with a soft glow, there's a slight patter of rain on the windows and it's just relaxing and quiet.
It's giving me a moment with my mind to think things over as I pretty much work on autopilot.
I know Tommy is still here, I can see him through the glass doors to his office, clearing extremely concentrated on whatever he's doing; I wonder if his mind keeps drifting back to what we did on his desk just last night.
I don't what to say to him, he's giving me the cold shoulder, refuses to talk to me unless it's necessary, and I just don't know where we stand. I don't know what I want to come from last night, I'm really happy with where we are right now and although I had - arguably - the best sex of my life last night, not much can come between our friendship.
I felt something that night, Tommy made me feel so special and like I was the most important person in the world to him, and I couldn't deny that those feelings.
Letting out a sigh, I drop my pen and grab a cigarette, placing it between my lips before I search for my matches. Striking a match, I tilt my head back and as I'm bringing the flame to my cigarette my eyes catch Tommy leaning against the doorway to his office, staring at me.
I pause for a moment before lighting my cigarette and waving the match out as I exhale.
"You look really pretty when you concentrate." Tommy states and if there were another person in here I don't think I would of been able to hear him.
"I don't do it often so you're welcome." I reply, never one to take compliments. "But thanks." I bashfully add.
"We both know that's not true." Tommy smiles ever so slightly.
"You look really pretty when you smile." I reply, taking a drag from my cigarette.
Tommy steps down the few steps and approaches me.
"Cora... what's going on?" Tommy asks, turning the chair beside me around so he can sit on it backwards, his arms folded on the backrest.
I look down, not sure what to say or where to look or how to react.
"I don't... I don't know." I say quietly, almost ashamed to admit. I'm always in control of a situation, I know the ins and outs but this time I have no idea where I stand, what's going on and I'm definitely not in control; neither of us are.
"Do you regret it?" He questions and I look at him properly.
"No, I don't. I can honestly say that I don't regret it." I answer sincerely, and a shimmer of relief speeds across his eyes. "Do you?"
"No. It was great and you don't regret great things." Tommy replies after a few moments, watching me stub out my cigarette. "But... I was hurt that you left before I woke up." He hesitantly adds, as if he doesn't know how to put his words together.
Neither do I.
Looking around the room as I try to gather my words, I can feel his bright blue eyes boring into my side and its quite unnerving.
"I didn't know what to say to you. Tommy, you're my best friend, you have been since year 9, we've gone through so much together and I can always rely on you ---you've always just been my best friend. Then suddenly when I get rejected by some twat who's scared of either women in general or the fact that you are my best friend and you decide to kiss me and then things escalate, things change. For good or for bad I don't know." I try to just put some of my thoughts into words.
"You could've left a note, woke me up if you really needed to go, silently got dressed with me and then we parted ways, anything... anything other than wordlessly leaving. Everything stopped, I slept a full night, I didn't have any messy dreams, I woke up rested, then when I saw you weren't there with me, none of that mattered anymore." Thomas explains with a small shrug, his eyes burning for a conclusion, a cohesive answer, anything.
"Only because you had company, female company no doubt." I state, sending him a tired look. His face is illuminated by the standing lamp behind me, highlighting his slight frustration, hurt, and confusion.
"No, I'm almost 100 percent sure it's not just female company. When I got back from fighting and I was having my night terrors, I'd call you up and you'd come sleep in my bed, and you'd help me fall asleep again and at least help with my dreams. When I was using you'd demand that we share a bed because you knew that I knew that you hated it. You've always helped me sleep." Tommy insists, leaning forward in his chair.
"I was just being a good friend, Tom."
"I'm not asking you to be my girlfriend or to marry me, I'm just saying I sleep better with you around. I don't know what I want to come out from this or where we stand but please promise that at the end of the day we'll always be best friends." Tommy pleads, grabbing my hand, clasping it with both of his.
"We'll always be best friends, Thomas. No matter how mad I am at you or you at me, I'll always be there for you." I assure, squeezing his hand with a small smile. "I hate not being in control, my whole life I've always been in control, had a grip on things, and just knew the ins and outs of every situation, then suddenly I don't it scares the living hell out of me, Tom. I don't know how to react."
"I'm not asking you to, I'm just as confused and lost as you are, I don't know where we stand or how to be normal again." Tommy says, his eyebrows raised. "I don't know what I want to come from this, but I know I'll always want you around."
"Same, always." I tell him, looking deep into his eyes. "I've gotta go, Tommy, I'll see you tomorrow." I lie, I've still got a load of work to do but if Tommy keeps looking at me like he is now, I'm not going to be able to make it out of here without my hair a mess.
Standing up, I push my chair back in and take a step away before Tommy says something.
"You can't keep running from your problems."
I pause, turning to look at him.
"Sorry?"
"You can't keep running away from things that you can't solve in 5 minutes." Tommy expands, looking up at me. He looks uncertain, as if he doesn't know how I'll react.
Keeping my gaze on his for a split second more before I swiftly bend down to press my lips against his, cupping his cheek. He seems surprised and stills for a moment then eagerly kisses me back, his hand also on my cheek.
We kiss for a few more moments until I pull back slightly, our faces inches away. "Watch me." I whisper, looking into his stormy sea of blue eyes, and my eyes flicker down to his lips before I stand up to my full height.
Taking a step back to make my move out of here but Tommy suddenly stands up straight and grabs my hand before I can escape and pulls me into him, immediately cupping my face with his soft hands and softly crashes his mouth to mine.
Without any hesitation I kiss him back, wrapping my arms loosely around his neck as I slowly relax into him. Tommy pulls me impossibly close to him, feeling every contort of his body, his hands steadily trail down my back as I work my mouth against his.
Once again, Tommy pulls my hair out of my hairband, letting my wild locks bounce free around my back. He buries his fingers into my curls whilst his other hand wonders, feeling my waist, hips and ass.
I press my hips against his and he leans against the nearest desk, he lets out a moan at the feeling of my hips and I take advantage of that so my tongue can get reacquainted with his.
Last time it was slow, hesitant touches, taking our time but this time it's eager, fast moving, and hungry.
I let out a moan when Tommy flicks his tongue against mine, completely lost in the moment; I can feel that I'm losing myself in him, his touch, his mouth, his mind. Disconnecting, Tommy attaches his mouth to the sensitive skin on my neck, dragging his lips up to the sweet spot below my ear.
The fast that he knows that fact sends me reeling over something so silly and simple, but it wakes me up.
Immediately I push myself off of him, taking a few shaky steps back with wide eyes. He looks shocked, his blown out eyes shining in concern, and he takes a step towards me.
"Co---"
"No." I shake my head. "We can't do this, I need to leave." I blurt out and make an exit, not bothering to pick up my coat on the way out as Tommy calls after me, but I slam the door on him, blocking out his voice that's always been comforting for me.
***
"Turns out it was just a fluke then." Polly teases, lighting up a cigarette as I enter the building.
"Seems like it." I agree, glancing at the clock, seeing it reads 10:45.
"Who's this raven haired beauty walking in?" A familiar voice asks, and I look to my left to see Ada proudly sitting on the closest desk to me.
"What are you doing here?" I ask, not being able to help the grin on my face as I approach her, pulling her into a quick hug.
"Thought I should come up as I haven't seen everyone in a while, and you even longer." Ada explains, and it's true as the last time she came up I was busy visiting my family that live down south.
"Well, it's great to see you again. Did you bring Karl?" I question, and as I'm looking at her I can't help the guilt that tugs at me as I slept with her brother just a few nights ago.
"Yeah, he's busy making a mess in Tommy's office with Finn." She answers, folding her arms.
"I'm sure he'll look forward to finding that." I smirk. "Is Tommy here by the way?" I ask curiously, hanging my bag up along with my coat, next to the coat I left here last night when I made a hasty exit.
"No, something happened at The Garrison or something and he had to go sort that out." Ada informs me, sending me a quizzical look when I let out a sigh of relief.
"Michael said someone got too rowdy and fired some shots at someone, no ones seriously hurt but Tommy went to go sort it out." Polly says, walking towards us creating a trio.
"When did your hair get so long?" Ada asks fascinated, her slender fingers coming up to grasp a few loose curls.
"I've not seen you without your hair up in what? Two years, maybe?" Polly comments, also looking at my hair.
"I just didn't have time this morning to do it, rolled out of bed, parted it and left." I tell her, running my hand through it.
"Didn't have the time? It's nearly 11 o'clock and you're only just strolling into work." Ada exclaims with a laugh.
"It took me ages to get to sleep, and I need my 8 hours." I retort, the reasons I couldn't get to sleep need to remain a secret.
Her damn brother.
"And just because you're you Tommy won't get mad. If any of us are more than 20 minutes late, Tommy will act like a child." Polly roll her eyes.
"How do you do it?" Ada asks genuinely.
Suck his dick apparently.
"I simply just show him my knife and he does whatever." I joke, with a smirk. "Hey, it's not like you have to be here at 8 or 9 on the dot, you're all founders of this company, you have just as much of say as that dumb fuck."
"True, but you can't deny that Tommy will throw a fit if we're late, where as you..."
"What can I say? Shelbys love me." I tease and leave the room.
It's just pushing 3 pm when Tommy walks into the room again, the first time I'm seeing him since I freaked out last night. It's been a busy and chaotic day so far, people coming in and out, I had to go deal with someone who wasn't paying up which got a bit messy, then I had to catch up on all the things I didn't do yesterday after leaving prematurely, and to do that with a messy head on top of that is difficult.
Tommy searches the room as he continues to walk through the room until he finds me. "You, my office." He points his finger at me and then towards his office doors.
"No?" I shake my head, quirking my eyebrows.
"It's fucking business that's all." Tommy huffs from across the room, giving me a slight glare before looking down and heading towards his office.
Pushing my chair out, I let out an even bigger huff than Tommy's and stand up, meeting him at his office doors. Our eyes flicker over each other extremely briefly before he opens his door and lets me enter first.
We both stop short at the sight of a man sitting in the chair opposite Tommy's desk.
"Who's that?" I whisper to Tommy, neither of us taking a step further.
"Mr Parsons, wants business with us." Tommy briefly tells me before moving forward. "Good afternoon, Mr Parsons."
"Ah! Good afternoon, not that good in a place like this." Mr Parsons states, looking up at Tommy as he goes to sit in his desk chair.
"Good afternoon." I greet and sit down in the chair next to him.
"Oh, a woman, a pretty woman that is." He comments with a weird smile of his face.
I send a quick look to Tommy who looks just as speechless as I am. "Thank you, business --- what can we do for you?"
Ever since I joined The Shelby Company Limited all those years ago Tommy's always asked me to join in with meetings. Not entirely sure why if I'm honest, he's always said and I quote 'you give me a level headed opinion', whatever that means.
"I need protection, I've recently moved to this shithole and I've heard that you so called Peaky Blinders are the best people for the job." Mr Parsons states, intertwining his fingers over his chest.
Tommy and I share a look at his choice of words.
"What do you need protecting?" Tommy questions, leaning back in his chair.
As Mr Parsons answers Tommy's question in his unique way of vocabulary, I take a good look at him. He's probably at the higher end of middle-aged, a full head of black hair growing white, a rather slim and tall build, well dressed, a thin greying moustache, and a sinister smile. He's not unattractive but there's something just off about his face.
"We will definitely look into that, Mr Parsons, we'll need to assess the situation ourselves first." Tommy says, gesturing with his hands.
"This pretty lady, I hope of course." He gives me a grin, and I grip the arms of the expensive chair to stop myself from showing him what I really think of him.
"No." Tommy bluntly tells him. "My brother will."
"That's a real shame." Mr Parsons sighs and looks at me as if I were his last meal on earth. "I must say, I think it's really great that you have so many women working for you."
"First of all," Tommy starts, leaning back in his chair and lights a cigarette, "They work with me, and secondly if you weren't so creepy and weird, you'd not speak of women as if they're a rare breed of dog."
Mr Parsons takes no notice of Thomas, just keeps his smile as his green eyes take me in, making my skin crawl. If the circumstances wear different and we were in a different environment I'd of either punched the guy in the face or threatened to do something worse by now, but because this is business and he could be important, I can't.
I lead forward in my chair to be closer to him despite my whole body screaming no. "You're coming on a little strong."
"That's just the way I act with beautiful women. A good one only comes around once and a while and you have to snap them up real fucking quick." He replies, with a wink, looking proud of himself.
"And you think it's working?" Tommy sasses and I stifle a chuckle, pursing my lip to conceal my smirk.
"I know it's working." He states over confidently, which even if I were into him, that would be a big turn off.
Like Tommy, he has a certain confidence about him but it's not stifling, big headed, or cocky, it's subtle, he demands it without verbally demanding it, and it's attractive.
Ew, since when did I use my best friend as a model of what is hot and not?
"Business, Mr Parsons, we're here for business." I remind him, sending him a stern look.
"See." Mr Parsons smirks at Tommy, and I roll my eyes as Tommy just stares straight through him, his cigarette seemingly forgotten as it burns in his fingers. "My business need protecting because I've made a few enemies in my year, and people like trying to tear me down."
"Wonder why." I mumble in a huff.
"What was that, sweetheart?"
"Oh nothing, just talking to myself, nothing for you to worry about." I wave him off, throwing a glare at him I how intrusive he's being.
"Anything that concerns your gorgeous mind is my concern, darling." Mr Parsons states softly before he grabs my hand that was dangling off of the arm of my chair.
I throw my head back in annoyance; I'd give anything to show this bitch my knife. I pull hand back, wanting to wash hands immediately.
"Why should we give you our protection?" Tommy asks, raising an eyebrow, taking a drag from his cigarette.
"Because, you clearly need it." Mr Parsons says, taking his eyes off of me from practically looking through my clothes to look at Tommy straight in the eyes.
Tommy abruptly gets up and rounds his desk towards me, he nods his head for me to get out of my chair, which I do and Tommy places his hand on my waist as we switch places to me sitting in his chair opposite Mr Parsons to Tommy sitting next to him, I can feel Mr Parsons' eyes on my body as I move. Tommy leans forward in his new chair, looking deep into Mr Parsons' eyes.
"What's that supposed to mean?" He questions, looking scary but it's kinda hot and to be honest, I'm slightly turned on.
"You live in a place like this, it's pretty self explanatory." Mr Parsons replies, crossing his leg over the other.
"I choose to live here, you don't have a choice." Tommy points out, clearly knowing more about him than I do.
"If that's what you want to believe, sure." He chuckles, throwing his head back.
"I'm not accustomed to being spoken to like that, especially not in my own fucking office." Tommy states, shaking his head slightly.
"What? No one been brave enough?" He chortles. "I've always been---"
"No one's seen the next morning after." Thomas cuts him off bluntly, and Mr Parsons stills for a moment.
This is such a dangerous and tense moment yet all I can do is keep my eyes locked on Tommy and all I want in the world right now is a repeat of the other night.
"I'm here to make a deal, Mr Shelby."
"Fine, give me your proposition." Tommy says, leaning back in his seat.
"50 percent of what I can--- no, will bring into The Shelby Company." Mr Parsons states with no remorse.
"And how do you expect to do that?" Tommy practically almost laughs, and I bite my lip to stop my guffaws coming out.
"With my business. If you protect me and people know that we're in bed together, you'll get even more people coming to you, you won't know where to put all the money." He answers, clearly delusional.
"Anything more you want from your so called deal?" Tommy asks, raising an eyebrow.
"A night with the girl."
We both freeze at that, both of us not believing that he just said that.
Tommy's always been protective of me, especially with people like this. I can even remember when I'd get people a year or two above me in school hitting on me or flirting with me, Tommy would always put them in their place and then ask if I was okay.
Yet at the same time, he knows to give me space and when I'm at my breaking point. He knows I don't like being smothered and accommodates for that.
"She's off the fucking table, untouchable." Tommy states with no hesitation or room for arguing. "Get the fuck out of my office." He shakes his head.
"I said sh---"
"Out." I push and he turns to look at me, his eyes widening at the sight of a gun pointed at his head.
"Yo---"
"Out." I push and pull the slide back.
He wordlessly gets up and Tommy and I escort him out as he swears a storm, slamming the door after himself.
Tommy and I stare at each other, alone since last night.
We both act on our own accord as I'm suddenly pressed against the wall, with Tommy's mouth on mine. I grip the back of his neck, my nails tickling his skin as Tommy pins me against the wall with his hips whilst his hands grip whatever he can.
Tommy wastes no time letting his tongue get reacquainted with mine, and I let out a moan at the feeling.
Last time it was soft, gentle, and slow, this time though, this time it's a lot more heated, passionate, and rougher.
"Jump." Tommy mumbles against me, and I do so, wrapping my legs around him as his hands go to my ass to get a steady grip on me.
I can tell he's holding back, almost as if he's refraining himself
"You can be rougher with me, by the way. I'm not made of glass." I quietly tell him, tracing his face with my fingers as we search each others eyes.
"Yeah?" He raises an eyebrow. "How rough?"
"We could set up a safe word?" I suggest.
"Like what?"
"Juggle?"
Tommy laughs before he presses his forehead against mine. "That works."
***
"What the fuck was that?" Tommy asks shocked, trying to catch his breath as his hand trails down the bare skin on my back.
"I don't know but oh my god." I shake my head, resting my forehead on his shoulder.
"This needs to be a regular occurrence, it's too good not to be." Tommy states, throwing his head back in his leather desk chair.
"Definitely." I agree, beginning to catch my breath.
I pull back, looking at Tommy who looks at me with hooded eyes and a small genuine smile, seemingly in a daze; we both are.
"You look pretty like this, no walls up, exposed and genuine." Thomas tells me softly, pushing some hair out of my face before quickly yet gently brushing his lips against mine.
"You're only saying that because I'm naked on top of you." I retort, beginning to have feeling in my legs again after riding him in his chair.
"I've always thought your were the most gorgeous person in the world, you know that, fuck, everyone knows that." He says and my stomach turns into liquid heat.
"Stop." I bashfully reply, burying my face into his neck as he breathes a laugh, continuing to stroke my back.
"You're so cute." He chuckles, kissing the side of my head.
"I've gotta get back to work, as much fun as this was, I like making money." I state, swiftly sliding off his lap and searching for my clothes that are strewn about the room somehow.
"So, what do you think we should do about Mr Parsons?" Tommy asks me, watching me fasten the back of my bra.
"You're not considering doing business with him are you?" I raise an eyebrow at him.
"No, fuck no." He shakes his head, getting up out of his chair to also get dressed. "Can't just let him come out of here with no repercussions."
"Probably just scare him, he didn't necessarily do anything, was just extremely unprofessional and disrespectful." I give him my two cents, before slipping my thick and dark jumper over my head. "But if there's anything that needs blowing up, you know where to find me."
Tommy chuckles as he buttons his shirt up.
"Of course." He nods with a smile, watching me slip into my skirt. "I'll send Finn his way."
"Terrifying." I smirk, finding it hard to believe that the boy I watched grow up could be intimidating.
"You seemed scared of him when he knocked on the door." Tommy teases, brushing his hip against mine as he walks past me.
"Well obviously, you had me up against the wall he was on the other side of; anyone could've caught us." I retort, looking in a mirror to sort my hair out as Tommy seems to have a fascination with it.
"Oh, so you're ashamed of me now are you?" Tommy asks, a teasing glint to blue eyes.
"Yeah, you're my dirty little secret." I laugh, before tying my shoes up.
Tommy tilts his head back to laugh as he slips his blazer back on, both of us looking put together again as if we didn't just have mind blowing sex.
"I'm going to have to kick you out of my office if you're going to speak to me like that." Tommy states, as we both near the door.
"We should really stop fucking on here. Next time my house." I tell him, looking up at him and the funny bright look in his eyes.
"Oh, so their is going to be a next time?" Tommy smirks with a raised eyebrow, look in proud of himself.
"You know as well as I do that there's going to be a next time." I send him a knowing look and he subtly licks his lips, looking pleased. "Can't get rid of you Shelbys if I tried."
Tommy laughs and presses a quick smiley kiss to my lips, "Don't ever change."
That's the start of an extremely natural, fulfilling, fun and sensual relationship. Nothing really changed within our friendship, only that we see each other naked a lot more.
It's definitely brought us closer together. We were extremely close before everything happened but now it feels like we've gotten to a new level, definitely a more intimate level but we're closer than ever before.
It kinda feels like we should've been messing around the whole time, it feels silly that we weren't. What we've got is so much fun and honestly it's a nice stress reliever at the end of the day.
It doesn't feel like we're tarnishing our years long friendship, this feels natural and free flowing.
No one knows, we made that a strict rule. We always try to mess around in the privacy of our own homes, but sometimes when it's late and everyone's gone home we can help ourselves or if tensions get high throughout the day.
I'm pretty sure no one knows. When this all started Ada was visiting and we were slightly sloppy with our secrecy, and she kinda cornered Tommy and I at different times but we got away with it as she never mentioned it again. After that we got our act together and any suspicion that was around died.
It's relatively unexpected from us, although we've expressed our attraction and admiration for each other to other people, we've always said we'd never act on it or that it was even possible to feel anything but appreciation for each other.
I've always joked that it'd be awful to be in a relationship with Tommy and that I'd hate to wake up to him everyday.
We also have another rule to not fall in love, which I laughed at when Tommy asked me to not fall in love with him, and then I told him to not flatter himself.
It's been kinda exciting sneaking around with Tommy. I feel like I'm hiding the resident bad boy of the town from my parents, but in this case it's one of the most dangerous people in the country and I'm sneaking around in front of his family, friends, and co-workers.
We generally don't really see each other outside of work besides on the Sundays that he comes over to my house to get his hair cut. Almost everyday we spend a lot of time together when everyone's gone home or ended their work day, we work together a lot, and I guess we see each other at the pub a lot; but to see each other outside of those premises isn't often. I occasionally go to Thomas' house but not by choice, only if he needs me there or there's a crises or an event going on but if I'm honest I don't like his house, which I've told him before and he always laughs at me because of it.
I love my flat in the heart of Small Heath and you couldn't get me out of their if you tried. I've lived there for years and it's my own place to call home. I could easily afford a house like Tommy's but you'd have to kill me to get me out of my flat.
In recent times, my house has sort of become his residence as he's spent so much time here recently. It's not just sex, we'll sometimes go to my house after work or after some evening entertainment, have a meal or just talk which leads to sex, and then half the time Tommy will stay the night; which leads to us having to sneak into work together without raising any suspicions.
Like now, it's honestly too often you'd find Tommy in my bed the morning after as the sun is beginning to shine through my bedroom windows, talking in quiet voices and having a few laughs.
Letting out a soft laugh at Tommy, I rub my hand over my face wake myself up a little bit more.
It's well into the morning, Tommy and I are lying in my bed, surrounded by sun spots that are pouring through my worn French windows, the Birmingham bustle is in full swing a few floors below us that we can hear small swings of from the window that is just slightly open, yet it's calm and quiet in this plant ridden room.
Just our quiet voices as if we were confessing our darkest secrets with the occasional stranger's shouty voice drifting through the window, and soft touches like we're handling a rare and ancient piece of history.
"Do you miss it?" Tommy asks as we're going through old memories.
"I miss my only worries being if Matthew Kennedy liked be back or not and being young and carefree, but I also love my life right now." I reply.
"Oh yeah, you planned out your wedding, how many kids you were gonna have and everything." Tommy laughs, his eyes glazed over as he thinks back to simpler times.
"It was gonna be outside with as many flowers as possible and we were gonna have 3 children, twin girls and a boy." I chuckle along with him, looking up at the crisp white ceiling. "But it turned out he was a shit kisser and only wanted to see my bed."
"I can still remember the black eye you gave him for that." Tommy grins, almost proudly.
"Deserved it, knob." I shake my head as he snickers before pulling me into him with the arm under me, curling me into his side, leaving the cracked open window to tickle my bare back with soft gusts of air.
"You're so violent." Tommy mumbles, pressing a gentle kiss to my hairline.
"Only to those that deserve it, which is a lot." I explain, before looking up at him. "So I can see how you got confused in perceiving me as a violent person, it's okay, Tom."
He send me an annoyed look as his fingers trace my back.
"You're so annoying, I've never met someone who annoys me so much." Tommy shakes his head, but despite his words his fingers stay consistent in tracing my back, running over my scars and smooth skin.
"You love it." I grin up at him.
All he does is grunt in response.
We lapse into a comfortable silence, with my head rested on his shoulder and my body pressed against his side whilst he has his arm wrapped around me, almost sending me to sleep again with his soft hands tracing my body.
"I can't believe you took a bullet for me." Thomas breaks the silence, running his fingers over the scar in my back.
"Only by accident." I reply, still slightly pissed off, making Tommy chuckle.
"Well if you hadn't moved I'd be dead." He states, looking up at the ceiling and easy smile on his face.
"And to think that you thought I was joking when it happened and you laughed." I shake my head, not being able help my smile.
I still remember that day as clear as ever.
We were outside the betting den with Arthur and Michael and I went to give Tommy a hug before I said goodbye and left but as we went to embrace each other I got a bullet straight into the back. I originally crashed into him and he thought I was joking before I crashed to the floor and my blood soaked my flowery blouse, that's when the laughter died.
"I said I was sorry!" Tommy claims, sounding anything but sorry. "I took care of you in the end though."
"You tripped as you entered the door, you knob!" I counteract, remembering how I was losing blood rapidly soaking his shirt, and as I was in his arms I laughed when he tripped nearly falling over.
"I was only trying." Tommy pouts, brushing his knuckles against my shoulder.
"Thank you." I breathe a small laugh before pressing a feather like kiss to his collarbone.
"You're not welcome." He jokes, before grabbing his first cigarette of the day.
Rolling out of his arms and onto my side of the bed, I do the biggest stretch known to man along with a loud and long groan. When I open my eyes, Tommy's giving me a look which I only grin at to annoy him, laying my head on my folded forearms as I lie on my stomach; I can't help but sigh as all I want to do I stay in the bed all day, preferably with him, not that I'd ever tell him that.
"Want one?" Tommy asks, offering his cigarettes to me.
"You know I don't smoke before 11." I tell him.
"I still don't get why." He shakes his head, exhaling the smoke.
"Habit." I shrug, knowing that it doesn't make any sense but I still do it anyway.
Running my fingers through my hair, I glance at my wardrobe, knowing that I should get ready sooner than later. Shuffling up onto my knees, I make my way over to Tommy's side of the bed as my wardrobe is situated on the left side of the room, I swing my leg over his, taking a brief pew on his thighs.
"You need your hair cut." I note, combing through his slight bed-head hair with my slender fingers.
"I know, but someone keeps putting it off." Tommy drawls, sending me a brief look be for he taps off the ash from his cigarette.
"It's not my fault that you come over to do it but you end up doing me instead." I chuckle, and he smiles.
"What can I say, it's just more fun."
I roll my eyes with a fond a smile before I go to get off Tommy's lap and venture out of this unbelievably comfortable bed but Tommy stops me by placing his hands on my hips, locking me in place.
"Yes?" I raise an eyebrow.
Tommy presses his lips against mine, pulling me in for a sensual, gentle morning kiss which leaves me breathless and wanting more. So much more. His touch is softer than ever as he cups my face in one hand and trails the other over the skin of my waist.
"That's all." Tommy shrugs, brushing his nose against mine with a small smile.
I mirror his smile and capture his lips one last time before I finally get out of bed, making my way over to my wardrobe and pull both doors open, my eyes darting over the hangers.
Picking out a dark dress with bright coloured flowers that has slight and subtle bell bottom sleeves, I shimmy into that before I make my way across the room to look out the window.
"Aw, it looks like it's going to rain." I frown, closing the window.
Tommy puts out his cigarette and gets out of bed, joining me at the window. "When doesn't it?"
"True," I shrug, then turn my back to Tommy. "Can you do me up?"
"Mhm." He hums and begins to do the buttons of my dress up.
"Thank you." I flash him a grateful smile and make my way over towards my vanity to do my make up as Tommy starts to change into one of the handful of suits that he leaves at my house.
This has sort of become the norm for us, Tommy spends the night, we spend a little too much time in bed in the morning until we ultimately have to get ready do the day and we have some banter whilst we get dressed and ready, the friendly banter is usually halted with kisses that make me feel warm inside as well as make my toes curl which always throws me off with how we can go from being best friends to acting like a couple in seconds.
I guess we are called friends with benefits.
Then we go downstairs and I make him breakfast, we talk about anything that's going on around us, business or people before our day starts and as soon as my front door swings open, we resort back to being best friends like we've always been, as if the night before didn't happen.
It didn't start like that.
At first it was strictly just sex. He'd only stay for a couple hours unless I really wore him out and he'd stay the night as much as he didn't particularly want to. We were kind of keeping it a secret from ourselves, reserving it strictly for behind closed doors, you wouldn't of suspected a thing; we slowly began moving forward, we stayed the night more, touches weren't just for nightfall anymore, and we knew where we stood with each other.
We don't refrain from showing each other affection anymore. Before this all happened Tommy and I would go through phases of giving each other affection but now it's different. I'd place a lot of money down for a bet to see if Tommy could walk past me without brushing his hand over my waist or back; he just subconsciously does it every time.
Sometimes there are moments where Tommy will be speaking with someone across the room or there's a family - even though I'm not family - meeting, and all I wanna do is just kiss him.
"You look nice." Tommy comments, coming up behind me as I'm putting some earrings in in front of my vanity mirror, bowing down to look at what I'm doing.
"Thank you." I reply as Tommy wraps his arms around my waist and leans down to press his chin to my shoulder blade, looking at me through the mirror. "You look alright."
Tommy flashes me a boyish smile before pecking the skin showing through the little triangle cut out in the back of my dress.
***
"See you tomorrow." I send Polly a smile when she makes her way out of the workplace.
"Bye, love." She mirrors my smile and closes the door behind her, leaving just a few Peakys peaking around.
Casting my eyes back to my desk, I carry on with my important task at hand before it swallows me whole.
As time goes by I sink further into my chair, the lights get softer as more people leave and my workload goes down. A loud groan disrupts my flow and it sounds like it's coming from Tommy's office.
Pushing my chair out, I head over Tommy's way not bothering to knock and I find him leaning back in his chair, looking stressed and defeated. His head whips up to look at me, his hard eyes softening when he sees it's just me.
"Why's it so dark in here?" I raise an eyebrow, noting the few lamps that are on in here, casting the room in a subtle orange glow when I walk towards him.
"Hurts my eyes." Tommy grumbles and I round his desk, taking a seat on his lap, his hand grazing my ass in the process.
"What's got you so gloomy?" I enquire, pressing a quick kiss to his jaw, feeling some tension release from his body as he settles into me.
"Just so much to do, so little time." Tommy replies with a soft sigh, placing his hand on my thigh and with his other hand he brushes some hair that got caught on my lipstick before he settles it around me.
"Seems that's how life's going these days." I mumble softly, sweeping the hair off of Tommy's forehead, causing him to close his eyes momentarily. "You should be careful not to overwork yourself, Tom. You make shit decisions when you're tired."
"What can I say? You tire me out." Tommy says with a fond smirk and slightly hooded eyes.
"You're a piece of work, got to put you to bed somehow." I fire back, matching his smirk.
Pressing my lips to the sensitive skin on his neck, working my way up towards his sharp jawline, Tommy lets out a satisfied sigh, beginning to properly relax. Connecting our lips in a sweet and short kiss, Tommy squeezes my thigh as I kiss him one time, two times, three times before going back to his neck.
"Mr Shelby?" Someone calls from behind the closed door with a hesitant knock.
We're too far gone to really care who it is or what they want so Tommy sighs and grants them entrance as I continue to work my magic on him. In comes a new lower ranked Peaky Blinder who's eyes widen at the sight of us, which it would be shocking to see us right now as everyone assumes we're still just best friends but here I am sat comfortably on Tommy's lap, marking him up.
"What can I do for you, Frank?" Thomas questions, trailing his hand up my thigh.
This poor boy is speechless, not knowing how to react and he looks like he wants to get out of this room as soon as possible.
"Uh, I just came in here to tell you that I've uh finished everything you asked me to do and it uhh all went smoothly." Frank states with anything but confidence.
"Great, thanks." Tommy responds, tilting his head to the side to give me more space.
Frank escapes the room as soon as possible and I chuckle at the hard working boy. We both know that he'd never utter a word to anyone about what he saw, that's why we didn't freak out. The boy want to go up in this company and he'll do anything to please anyone higher than him; he's too gentle and easily persuaded for this world.
"Is that everyone gone?" Tommy asks me.
"Should be." I confirm with a small nod.
"Perfect."
The next thing I feel is Tommy's hand creeping up my skirt.
***
"What?" Tommy utters, staring at a lower ranked Peaky Blinder with an ice cold stare.
"It's not my fault! I tried to get him to agree but---"
"Not your fault? This whole plan went down the drain because of you!" Tommy states, not believing the man.
"He had a gun to my head, what was I supposed to do?!" Matthew asks outraged.
"You should taken someone fucking with you, not just thought that you knew best! You need a wake up call because if you want to remain in this company you should know that that shit doesn't fly around here. Could've taken John, Arthur, Cora, fuck, even Michael for fuck sake, not just make decisions as you go along." Thomas retorts, frustrated beyond belief as he rubs his hands over his face.
"What's all the shouting about?" Polly questions as she comes up beside me from being in another room.
"Mathew fucked up and gave away Tommy's plans and shit, along with some other stuff that i don't quite know the details of, so Tom's losing his shit." I fill her in, looking up at her from where I'm sitting and she's standing.
"How the fuck did that happen?" She asks, confused.
"He ran into some trouble on the way or something, I'm not sure, I only came in half way through." I take an unsure guess.
"Men." She shakes her head, letting out a sigh.
"Boys." I correct, making her cackle as she turns to move further into the room.
"I don't need a babysitter, and I sure as hell am not gonna take a female with me." Mathew states in defence, his so called manhood damaged by the thought of a woman being able to do his job better than him.
Tommy huffs a small laugh.
"I wear heels bigger than your dick!" I joke from across the room, not taking his serious comment seriously.
"Just get out of my sight before I force you to." Tommy huffs, turning around and heading up to his office, not being gentle with the door as he closes it behind him.
"I'll go talk to him." I roll my eyes, getting up out of my chair, grabbing the knife from off my desk with me. "And you..." I start, showing Mathew my weapon. "Try not to be a sexist twat next time you're even vaguely threatened by a woman. We hold a lot more power than you can, so remember that next time." I give him a sly wink as I twirl the extremely sharp knife around my fingers.
Heading into Tommy's office, I lean against the door after I close it, watching Tommy lean over his desk, head hung low, tension present in his muscles.
"What is it with people not sticking to the plan?" Tommy grumbles, not bothering to turn around and face me.
"Some people think they know best, I guess." I say, coming up behind him and wrapping my arms around his waist, feeling some tension leave his body.
"He's my employee, this is not what I'm employing him for. I'm not paying him to fuck up." Tommy shakes his head as I press my cheek against his back.
"I know." I say, knowing he doesn't really want me to say anything, he just needs comforting and someone to vent to.
"This whole plan has gone to shit, I've spent weeks trying to perfect it, and the easiest task got fucked." He huffs.
"You shouldn't of trusted him to it, the man can't even tie a tie." I state, looking out of the window.
"I just thought I'd give him a chance, a try, whatever, but I shouldn't of." Tommy replies, lifting his head up.
"You learn from these things, got to know where you stand with the people around you." I tell him, moving my hands from around his waist to hooking under his shoulders.
"I guess, but I just expected more from him." Tommy responds.
And so I let my best friend vent some more, not just about this incident but anything that's on his mind, only replying when I feel the need to, and I think it worked because he's not all worked up anymore, the tension has dropped in his body, and he seems at peace.
"Thank you." Tommy utters, taking my face in his hands.
"For what?" I breathe a small laugh, holding onto his forearms.
"For just always being there for me, day or night, for the big things and the small things, I don't know how I could ever thank you enough." He says, stepping into my bubble, looking more sincere than ever.
"You do the same for me, that's more than enough." I assure, looking deep into his deep blue eyes. "Thank you for being my best friend."
Tommy smiles a small smile, before giving me a kiss, pulling me impossibly close to him, both of our smiles growing.
***
Glancing over towards the clock on the bedside table, seeing the time reads 6:30, I've got a long day ahead of me and I need to catch up on quite a few things as I seem to be slacking because I've been spending all my time with the duvet hogger to the left of me.
Granted it's not my house or room so I have no claim on it, but I seem to spend more time here than my own house; it feels more like home here, anyway.
Letting out a quiet yawn, I look over at Cora next to me, seeing how she's dead to the world looking effortlessly gorgeous whilst she's fast asleep. Her dark hair is splayed out on her pillow, her long eyelashes resting on her cheeks, and her bare shoulders are poking out of the duvet, with a small sun spot shining on her, and she just looks so pretty.
It feels weird not waking up next to her nowadays, it feels so natural seeing her warming up the other half of either mine or her's bed.
Sitting up, I shuffle out of bed and start to get dressed and I can't help but think of how I could get used to this.
Beginning to get ready for the day without waking up Cora, I don't bother with breakfast as I just don't have the time. Doing a once over in the mirror, I head over to Cora who's half awake to let her know that I'm leaving.
"Cora, lovie." I say softly, placing my hand on her exposed arm.
"Hm?" She hums, giving me a peak of her green eyes as she purses her lips briefly.
"'M gonna head into work now, I'll see you later on, eh?" I inform, watching her slowly wake up.
"Okay, have fun." Cora wishes, readjusting the sheet on her bare chest.
"Oh I'll try." I joke, brushing some hair away from her face with a fond smile. "I'll see you later." I tell her, planting a quick kiss on her lips.
She chuckles.
"Look at us, like an old married couple, who'd of thought?"
"Terrifying." I laugh, asking her laugh as I leave the room with a smile on my face that stays on my face until I open the front door, and as I'm walking to work I can't help but think that that doesn't sound so bad.
Leaning back in my chair, I grab a cigarette and flick my lighter against the end, quickly exhaling what I inhale before clearing my throat a little.
"I look forward to what the future holds for us, Mr Shelby." Mr Cliffo states, clearly chuffed with the way this meeting went.
"As do I, Mr Cliffo, as do I." I reply, wanting to get him out of my office as soon as possible as I've still got so much to do today.
"You've got a nice thing going on here, great business attitude, trust worthy co workers, it seems like your family really has its heart in this company." Mr Cliffo drawls, looking around the room.
"Yes, all of us here believe in this company and always want to strive closer towards our goals and ambitions." I nod, bringing my cigarette to my mouth again.
"I have to ask as curiosity has gotten the best of me, where's the woman that usually attends our meetings?" Mr Cliffo questions, and I sigh, it seems like everyone takes interest in my best friend nowadays.
She's extremely captivating and has a mysterious aura to her, Cora just has this way of drawing you in and making you want to know as much about her as possible.
"Busy." I inform, watching him carefully, how he has a ghost of smile on his face and seemingly looking back on his few interactions with her.
"I've missed her little quips and ideas." He tells me.
Widening my eyes as I let out an exasperated huff, I stand up and head towards the door, hopefully giving him the hint to get the fuck out of my office.
Which he does, so he stands up whilst doing the buttons of his blazer up, approaching me by the door.
"Pretty little thing she is." He says fondly, but not in a creepy way just a genuine compliment.
"She's certainly a head turner." I nod, not being able to deny it.
"Well, I must get going, errands to run." Mr Cliffo states and opens the door. "I'm sensing a promising future here, Mr Shelby."
"I'll look forward to it." I say, escorting him out to hurry him up.
We enter the main room where everyone seems to be, the shouting across the room and bustling noises greet us.
"Have a good day, Mr Shelby." Mr Cliffo bids and we shake hands briefly before he leaves, leaving me to head into John's office to relay some information about the meeting I just had.
"Good meeting?" John questions as I lean against the door frame.
"As good as a meeting with Mr Cliffo can go." I half joke, folding my arms.
"Still a boring middle aged fuck?" John laughs, dropping his pen.
"More of less." I confirm with a small chuckle.
I'm half way through telling John about what happened and our plans when there's a commotion on the other side of the room. I look over my shoulder and find Cora pinning Mr Cliffo against the wall with the knife that she keeps in her stockings under his chin
He looks sheepish, slightly terrified, and completely taken of guard whilst she looks dangerous, pissed off and not the slightest bit hesitant.
"What the fuck is goin' on?" John enquires, joining me in the doorway. "Fuck yeah, I love when she brings the knives out." He practically cheers for her.
"Touch me or any of the woman in here again and you won't see the next sunrise." Cora promises, and in some weird way I can't help but smile a little as she looks so natural at this.
"What's some woman gonna do?" Mr Cliffo attempts to belittle her in order to save his so called manhood.
That's not what he was saying about her earlier.
Cora sharply brings her knee to his crotch making him pale and let out an agonising groan. The impact enough to make any man wince.
"First time a woman's touched your dick in years, is it?" She taunts, pushing the knife into his skin.
He can't get any words out, clearly in too much pain.
"What? Cat got your tongue?" She all but smirks. "Get out of here before you do something you'll regret." Cora states and Mr Cliffo stumbles out of the door, no doubt planning to avoid this building for the rest of his life.
"Fucking hell, I learnt the day I met her not to fuck with Cora Witton and I'm still scared of her." John tells me, subtly interlacing his hands over his crotch making me breathe a laugh.
"Ladies." Cora grins at the women who she just protected from Mr Cliffo, and they mirror her smile.
"She may be small but she will hurt you." I comment watching her tuck her knife back in her stocking, not caring that people can see.
"No hesitation." John adds before he goes back to his desk.
"What the fuck were you thinking doing business with him?" Cora questions as she comes up to me, not mad just curious.
"We've worked with him before, thought I'd take it further." I shrug.
"And after each meeting he grabs my ass." She rolls her eyes, mirroring my folded arms.
"That's him?" I raise an eyebrow, surprised.
"Kinda." She nods, widening her eyes.
"Sorry, I didn't know, lovie." I say softly before kissing her cheek breifly. "This is why I need you in my meetings, give me honest and better judgement."
"Speaking of which, business is done and dealt with, Finn and Isiah are just finishing it up." Cora informs.
"Did it go smoothly?" I question, staring down at her.
"More or less." She nods and she's about to explain before Michael calls her over. "I'll tell you later." Cora tells me, gently fixing my tie before she heads over to Michael.
"You're close." John states, a teasing tone creeping into his voice along with the growing smirk.
"Fuck off." I grumble and leave his doorway, entering mine.
***
"Hi." Cora sings when she enters my office, an unfamiliar baby on her hip.
"Who's this?" I question, leaning back in my chair.
"My neighbour's son." She says, tucking some blonde hair behind the baby's ear.
"It's illegal to take people's children, Cora." I tell her, smiling when she rolls her eyes.
"My neighbour needed someone to watch him for like 15 minutes." She informs, sitting down in the chair opposite me, situating the young boy on her lap who's fascinated with the bracelet on her wrist.
"What's his name?"
"Ronnie."
"Is this the neighbour that complained about the noise?" I ask, with a cheeky smirk
"Yeah, I still can't look them in the eye." She bashfully answers, smiling through the pain.
I laugh as I look back on that experience, it traumatised her so much that we did all our rendezvous on my house for the next month until people started getting suspicious so we went back to her house most of the time.
"You do a lot of things, Cora, yet you can't look your neighbour in the eyes because they heard us one time." I state, amused.
"Uh, I highly doubt it was just the once." She confidently claims.
"Why don't you just move somewhere more remote?" I suggest, already knowing the answer.
"I can't! I love my place, you know that." Cora replies, readjusting Ronnie on her lap. "Isn't that right, Mr Ronnie?" She coos.
I rest my chin on my palm, hiding my smile behind my knuckles. She looks like such a natural with him and seeing her with a baby makes a weird thought come into mind and I can't help but entertain that thought.
Half of me and half of her, dear god help the child who's cursed with that.
A sarcastic and cocky bastard riddled with trauma and seemingly never ending problems.
I'm not planning on having a child with Cora ever, but the idea is entertaining and gives me an odd feeling.
She'd be an amazing mum, she would do anything for anyone that she loves, and to receive her love is one of the greatest things in the world. As I'm looking at her now, I want some of that.
I'd like a beautiful baby who's half me and half her.
"What you daydreaming about, Shelby?" Cora brings me out of the thoughts I'd never utter to her.
"Nothing." I shake my head, and try to busy myself with the work in front of me.
"In all the years I've known you, Tommy, there's always something in your head." Cora says knowingly, a teasing smile creeping on her face.
"Not true." I deceive.
"I'll find out, some day, I always do."
Not even over my dead body.
"Are you coming over tonight?" She questions, crossing her legs.
"Depends, do you want me to?" I retort, looking over at her.
"I think you know the answer to that." Cora tells me, meeting my eyes, a sly glint prevalent in her eyes.
"No?" I guess.
"Of course I do." She chuckles, her smile lighting up the room.
"Tell you what, I'll finish this in the next... 20 minutes/half an hour then we'll head over to your flat, and see where the evening takes us." I suggest, despite the fact that I still got at least a third of work to do today but this girl just does things to me.
"You and I both know exactly where the evening will take us." Cora laughs, running her hand through her hair.
"The sooner we're out of here, the sooner we can get there." I reply, sending her a knowing look.
"Sounds like a plan." Cora grins, gathering Ronnie before leaving the room.
***
"Ready?" I ask, brushing my hand over Cora's shoulder as I walk past her.
"Mhm, just need to give this to Michael." She hums, getting out of her chair to head over to Michael as I get my coat.
"Where are you two going?" Polly muses, leaning back almost smugly in her chair, a cigarette burning in her fingers.
"Home." I answer, turning to look at her.
"Early for you." Polly acknowledges, looking as if she knows something I don't.
"Maybe so, Pol, maybe so." I nod as Cora walks over towards us.
"Ready?" She questions and I nod before I guide us out of here by draping my arm over her shoulders, opening the front door, seeing its beginning to rain. "Shit, I didn't bring a coat." Cora pouts.
"I did." I smugly say, stepping outside and she tugs at the sleeves of her dress until she steps out, too.
We begin to walk the 15 minute walk to Cora's place, chatting about random things on the way, the rain only getting heavier; luckily we're sheltered by the roofs of the houses hanging over the pavement.
"No one annoys me more than my sister, not even you and you're really high up there, like too high." She tells me, making me grin, that's my favourite pastime.
"It's just so easy to do, nothing amuses me more than when you're annoyed." I chuckle, looking down at her annoyed glare and feigning pain when she punches me in the arm, watching her fold her arms to keep herself warm.
"I retract my statement, you annoy me the mos---" she cuts herself off when I drape my coat over her shoulders. "Tommy Shelby, you're so romantic." Cora laughs, a teasing glint in her eyes.
"I try." I mumble, with a small smile as we turn a corner.
"Fuckin' hell, rain's giving no mercy." She points out, and we both look out at the rain that's pelting down, making puddles and leaking through unlucky people's roofs.
Luckily we're sheltered by said roofs; for now.
Grabbing Cora's hand, I pull her out of the protection of the roofs into the rain, making her squeal and laugh which is just music to my ears as I laugh along with her.
"Tommy!" She exclaims and I pull her into my arms, pressing her against me as our hair and clothes get soaked.
"Cora!" I imitate to annoy her, as she wraps her arms loosely around my neck, bringing us even closer. I look into her eyes, seeing how carefree she looks, how much her face is lit up, the smile that always makes me weak in the knees, and how happy she looks, it makes me unbelievably happy. "Kiss me."
"What? Out in open? People can see us, rumours will spread." Cora tells me as she sweeps some soaked hair off my forehead and to the side.
"So? People are already suspicious." I shrug, cupping her cheek. "Kiss me."
She breathes a laugh before pressing her lips to mine, the both of us smiling into it.
I've never smiled as much as the time I spend with this girl.
We stand in the middle of the road, raining cats and dogs on us, intertwined with each other, more than just physically, out in the open.
Pulling back slowly, we take each other in with soft eyes and smiles, and as I'm looking at her right now, all I can feel is love.
I'm in love with my best friend.
Deeply in love.
I could call myself crazy but the way she's looking at me right now and how she's making me feel, I'd say she feels the exact same.
The words are on the tip of my tongue, aching to be said but I'm not brave enough, so I settle with kissing her again instead.
I'm scared to the bone but I'm also kind of revelling in it as it's a new feeling and fuck does it feel good.
"You look pretty in the rain."
"As do you."
***
After a successful business move that we've all been hard at work on for the past month, that called for a celebration, right? Which is why we're in The Garrison this evening, nestled in the private room full of Shelbys, Grays, and a few other Peakys including myself.
Which is predictably chaos.
"To business." Michael toasts, holding his drink up.
"To business." We all toast, clinking glasses.
"Michael, for fucks sake, you've made that toast like 10 times tonight." John groans, rubbing his forehead clearly exasperated.
"I'm a little drunk, and you keep joining so you're all as bad as me." Michael states, and there's some truth to his words.
We're all a little drunk, some more than others. Not to name names or anything but I'm definitely looking at Arthur, Finn and possibly Polly, not to mention Michael. The rest of us are tipsy, definitely feeling the buzz in our systems, but not off our face.
Although that might change as the night goes on.
"To business!" Arthur vindicates, and I groan, making Tommy chuckle.
"On behalf of my family, I am so sorry." Tommy jokes from beside me.
"What is it with you Shelbys and your liquor?" I question, leaning my head on his shoulder as I look at him.
"Born with it in our bloodstreams." Tommy tells me, brushing his fingertips against my arm as his arm is draped around the back of my part of the booth.
We're kind of in our own bubble in the corner, occasionally piping up with a quip or an opinion but we're mainly talking to each other like we've always done in these sort of circumstances.
"I assume you came out of the womb with a cigarette too, right?" I tease, crossing my legs.
"Yeah, the midwife was waiting with a match." He jokes with a small laugh, his smile staying on his face.
"I can't imagine you as a child. Of course I've known you since we were in year 9, and I'd seen you around a few times in secondary school, but to imagine you as an 8 year old is really hard." I tell him, smiling at the thought.
"Well first of all I was adorable, let's get that out of the way." Tommy states, trying to conceal his smirk.
"You still are!" I tease, earning myself a blank look.
"The ladies loved me." He continues.
"Even with your bad haircut?" I laugh, I've heard so much about his haircuts in the past that family members did for him.
"That's what brought them in, you whore." Tommy laughs which makes me laugh.
"Of course, all that extra hair just propelled these so called ladies to you."
"Exactly." He confirms as if it's obvious. "I've heard stories from your childhood from your family or partners." Tommy informs, a mischievous look in his eyes
"You know only what I want you to know."
"You're forgetting that I know every single thing about you, everything." Tommy says, nudging his knee against mine.
"I highly doubt that, every single thing? Really?" I question, nudging him back.
"Yeah."
"How old was I when I stopped hating you?" I test him, turning slightly to look at him.
"Trick question, you never stopped." Tommy answers, grinning because he knows he's right and I huff. "Yet you still suck my dick almost every night." He mumbles, making me punch him which only makes him laugh.
"I don't hear you complaining." I retort.
"I'd never." Tommy shakes his head. "Why don't we go back to your place and I'll show you how appreciative I am." He suggest, placing his hand on my thing under the table.
"Don't you want to celebrate with your family?" I question, looking over at everyone who's more or less plastered.
"Lovie, you are my celebration." Tommy tells me fondly, tucking some hair behind my ear.
This is the thing with Tommy. He can make you feel so special and make you feel like you're the only person in the room, despite the fact that it's filled with loads of people. He can set off a load of fireworks inside of you without even really trying.
"How about you meet me in the back room in five minutes..." Tommy suggests, sending me a mischievous smile.
"Sounds like a plan." I reply, matching his smile.
"I'm gonna go get more alcohol." Tommy announces, but no one's really listening, and Tommy leaves the room, leaving me alone with his family.
"I'm so glad that I never have to talk to another Bulgarian in my life." Finn says, as I tune into the family's conversation.
"What if you fall in love with one one day?" I question and he turns to me.
"Simply impossible." Finn shakes his head.
"You can't control who you love; you can lie to yourself, deny yourself of it, but it'll always be there." I tell him, sitting up straight ready to go.
"You can definitely control who you love, I can also choose who, when, and where." Finn disagrees, taking a sip of his drink.
"Okay, say you chose to fall in love with the old lady that lives next door to you. Could you do that?" I question, watching him falter as everyone chuckles at him.
"What do you know about love anyway?" Finn asks in a grumble, downing the rest of his drink.
I know a little something about unrequited love.
"I got proposed to." I retort, sending him an obvious look.
"Which you laughed at before walking away from him." He argues, with a laugh.
"Broke the poor guy's heart in front of everyone." Arthur stifles a laugh, refilling his glass.
"Who proposes after 2 years together?" I question, folding my arms.
"Loads of people." John answers, an amused look on his face.
"Shit, maybe I don't know much about love." I join the laughter almost sheepishly.
"I love being in love, it's one of the best feelings in the world." Polly states, leaning back in her chair with a dazed look in her eyes.
"Love is whenever something happens in your life, good or bad, you immediately want to tell them. When you know you can go to them for anything. Knowing you can do anything and they'll always be there for you. When they can always make you laugh, despite anything. Just feeling at home with them, basically. Love is when they're your home." Arthur despite being drunk, eloquently speaks.
My mind instantly goes to Tommy.
He's all of that.
Always has been.
"Love is never far, it's always closer than you think." Polly states, and I look over at her and find that she's already looking at me. Her eyes boring into my soul.
"The only things I love in my life is me and my flat." I announce, and get up to go meet Tommy.
"What about me?" Finn questions, looking up at me with puppy-like look adorning his face.
"Aww." I smile and ruffle his hair. "No."
Opening the door to be greeted with the rest of The Garrison that isn't closed off, I step out and close the door behind me, my eyes scanning the room. Rolling my eyes when I see Tommy talking to some guy at the bar.
He spots me as I approach him, a small smile quirking at his mouth.
"Sorry, I've got some business to attend to." Tommy excuses himself and swiftly yet subtly follows me through the room.
"Is that what I am now? Business?" I tease, as we're out of earshot from anyone around us.
"No, you're a lot more fun than business." Tommy says, grabbing my hand as we push past the doors that lead to the backrooms down the long corridor.
"I don't know, sometimes you get quite excited when things are going well." I tell him, making him laugh which resonates in this empty corridor. "Although---"
I'm cut off by Tommy pressing me up against the wall as he attaches his mouth to mine eagerly. Cupping his face, I match his pace and pull him closer as he buries his fingers in my hair and pins me against the wall with his hips.
"You're so pretty, lovie." Tommy whispers, making me grin.
"So are you." I chuckle, knowing how much he hates when I call him pretty despite the tiny blush that flushes his cheeks.
"You just love to remind me that you're my best friend, don't you?" He asks with a smile.
"Yeah." I laugh and kiss him again before Tommy begins to guide us to a more private area as our kiss begins to heat up and hands are roaming.
The door slams against the wall as we enter a storage room that is surprisingly clean, the heavy wooden door closes itself and Tommy and I stumble our way through the room as our bodies heat up until we hit a wall, I let out a breathy moan at the sensation of being able to feel ever curve and dip of Tommy.
Disconnecting our lips, Tommy dips his head to attach his mouth to my neck as I pant, beginning to fiddle with the buttons of my dress.
"Uh, Tommy? Cora?" A voice hesitantly speaks up, and we freeze.
You could hear a pin drop.
I look to my left and see Michael staring at us with wide eyes, looking scared yet too shocked to really form an opinion.
"Hi, Michael." I sheepishly greet as Tommy drops his head to my shoulder in defeat briefly.
"Has this been going on this whole time?" Michael asks after some silence, rubbing his nose.
"What are you even doing here anyway, Michael?" Tommy asks, turning to face him.
"I was uh... meeting a friend." Michael says. "Not your kind of friend though."
I look past him and see the small container splayed out on some stacked up pallets. "Friend, really?"
"Yep." He nods, inhaling sharply as he refuses to look us in the eyes.
"Not doing lines off old rotting pallets?" I suggest, putting my weight on one foot.
"To--- Who are you to judge me when you guys are fucking or whatever under people's noses?" Michael accuses, acting out. "Has this been going this whole time? You've been sneaking around for years?"
"What does it matter to you?" Tommy and I say simultaneously.
"Are guys together or what?" Michael questions, looking between us.
Tommy and I look at each other, not being able to come up with an answer.
"How does it concern you with what we do privately?" Tommy questions, looking pissed.
"I don't know about priva---"
I cut Michael off as I push him against the wall, swiftly pulling my knife out and holding I under his chin whilst I have my hand pressed against his collar. "You say a fucking word to anyone, your mum, your friends, your butcher, your fucking dentist and you'll be fresh meat." I warn as I look into his blown out eyes. "Understand?"
"Cora---"
"Understand?" I repeat, pressing the blade into his skin.
"Yes, I won't utter a word!" Michael conforms, keeping eye contact.
"Good." I grin, and affectionately clap his cheek. "Tell your mum I'll be in late tomorrow." I inform as I put away my knife before stepping back to Tommy, who runs his hand down my back and rests it on the small of my back.
"We're trusting you, Michael." Tommy tells him, giving him a stern look before we head out the door.
"Stay off the snow will you, Michael?" I suggest over my shoulder before the door slams shut.
"You're so violent, like my little weapon." Tommy teases, intertwining our fingers and I squeeze his hand lightly.
"How much do you trust him?" I question, as we walk down the long corridor.
"As long as we've got you around, I'd say 100 per cent." Tommy jokes. "As long as we don't have any interactions like that again, I'd say he's pretty trust worthy."
"Right." I nod, taking in his words. "Back to my house?"
"We're still celebrating, aren't we?" Tommy states, making me chuckle but it's short lived as I can't help but frown when he drops my hand as we enter the open again.
My heart sinks.
"Just wanna remind you that we've got a wedding next week." Tommy says and I roll my eyes.
You forget one important shoot out that's been planned for months and suddenly he has to remind you of every important thing for the rest of time.
"You didn't propose though?" I reply, gliding through groups of people.
"I didn't?" He raises an eyebrow, looking down at me with a small smirk.
"No, you didn't." I shake my head, smiling.
"Oh, shame, you look good in white."
***
"Well Arthur, the big day's come." I say, as I flip my collar up to put my tie on.
"Indeed, it has indeed." Arthur nods, taking a seat on the large ottoman in the middle of the room.
"Our Arthur's finally settling down, eh?" John smirks as he looks in the mirror to do his hair again.
"God help Linda." Finn grumbles, slipping into his blazer.
"Already is." John widens his smirk.
"I don't see any of you getting married so fuck off." Arthur replies, disregarding John.
"To be fair, he's got a point... god can only do so much." I state, tightening my tie and putting my collar down.
"Oi, you can barely keep your woman on the reigns." Arthur retorts, pointing a finger at me, as the others snicker.
"I've not got a woman." I reply although I know who and what they're talking about.
"You know, the girl you're always around." Arthur tells me, and I huff with a small smile at their tomfoolery.
"You mean the girl who punched you and you practically cried when she was like 14?" I ask, pulling my cigarettes out.
"She'd fucking kill you if she knew you were talking about her like this, Arthur." Finn says, smirking.
"Even if she were my so called woman, not that you'd ever be able to make her conform to that title, she cannot be owned. Not just because of feminism but she's too wild for that, she'd also punch me and that hurts." I state, lighting my cigarette.
"I think it's the other way 'round." John muses, gesturing with his cigar. "She's got you on the reigns."
"Have any of you lot seen Cora?" Polly asks as she bursts into the room, dressed in a fancy dress.
"No."
"Not seen her all morning."
"Not seen her since this morning."
"Me either."
"Fuck sake. She can do everything but turn up on time." Polly grumbles, shaking her head. "Well come on then. Time's getting on and the bride won't wait forever."
We all exit the room one by one, following Polly through the building but we stop short when we see Cora stepping into the entrance hall, looking up at the ceiling as she lights a cigarette, showcasing the thin but long scar on her throat that gave me nightmares when it happened.
"Shelbys!" She beams when she sees us, taking a drag of her cigarette, looking temptingly appetising.
"What time do you call this, Witton?" Polly barks, sending daggers Cora's way.
"There's plenty of time! Don't worry about it." Cora waves Polly off but all I can focus on is how good she looks.
Her dress has a few layers of thin, see through tulle with flowers embroidered into it, the underneath is a champagne sort of pink coloured dress that shines through subtly, the length sinks all the way down to her feet, it's cinched in at the waist with a controversial slit at the side showcasing her leg, and her sleeves are made of the same see through tulle that hangs off her shoulders to tickle her elbow in waves. Her hair is pinned up with a handful of thick curls dangling around her face, and her make up is subtle which really makes her green eyes pop.
She looks like an angel to put it simply.
"Careful, you'll catch flies." John smirks, elbowing me.
I push him back making him knock into Finn which causes him to start an argument.
The art of diversion.
"Nice dress." I comment when she looks over at me.
"Thanks, it has pockets." Cora replies, giving me a demonstration.
"Thought it was supposed to be the bride who's the prettiest today." I state quietly as no one seems to be listening to us.
"Aw, you're too kind." She smiles before pecking my cheek and guiding us towards the church.
***
An around of applause and cheers resonate in the tall church as Arthur and Linda kiss, I can't help but smile at the happy couple.
"How long?" Tommy jokes when he mumbles into my ear.
"Stop!" I laugh, continuing to clap.
"We're married!" Arthur announces as he and Linda turn to face everyone with grins.
Another round of applause goes around the room, mixed with whistles, hoots, and cheers. Arthur and Linda walk down the aisle as a newly wedded couple before everyone slowly begins to follow them for photos outside.
"I can't imagine you getting married." Tommy states when we stand up.
"I'm hurt, Thomas." I reply, shuffling out of the pew.
"You seem too... independent and strong." Tommy digs himself a bigger hole.
"What? So the point of marriage is supposed to break me?" I question with a chuckle.
"No, just the traditional way is that you'd stay at home, looking after the children, cooking or baking, and waiting for your husband to come home." He answers. "And that's not you... but I like that about you."
"I'm never stopping for some man, men don't deserve rights." I shake my head.
"Oh right." Tommy laughs, slinging his arm around my shoulders as we walk down the aisle. "I guess you work with a lot of males so you can say that."
"Thank you, for letting me, a woman, know what I can say and what I'm allowed to say, thank you husband." I joke and he bumps his hip against mine in response.
"The nagging wife part though, you've got that down." Tommy replies, weaving us through people as I lace our hands together with the hand that was dangling in front of my chest from where his arm is draped over my shoulders.
"Fuck off." I laugh, the fresh spring air hitting my face as we enter the outside, gathering at the back of the large group of people posing for photos.
"You love it." He grins before pressing a kiss to my cheek as I laugh.
A flash blinds me momentary, and I inwardly groan.
A few more photos, Tommy and I trying to annoy each other, and laughs later and we head off to the party.
***
"I've known Arthur since I was like 15, it feels weird to watch him get married after all this time." I tell a stranger that I've been talking to for the past 10 minutes.
"I've grown up with Linda, I've not heard the end of this wedding since she was 10." Linda's cousin makes a joke which I fake laugh at, before taking a sip from my flute of champagne. "Are you getting married anytime soon?"
"Oh, no, god no." I shake my head, chuckling.
"Really? Aren't you with Arthur's brother, what's his name? Thomas is it?" She questions.
"Tommy? We're not really together, well we aren't... Thomas is amazing but..."
"But?" She smiles warmly as if she's just done something.
Why aren't we together is the better question, Tommy is everything I've ever wanted, he respects me, makes me feel like I'm more special that I am, is always there for me no matter what, and can make me feel so carefree, I'm in love with him but he's just not.
"But he isn't one for relationships." I answer. "I'm gonna go annoy some of your family, you make me think when I'm here to get drunk. I don't like that."
Her smile falls and I float off towards a group of strangers, ready to judge.
"I heard that the Shelbys shot someone who accidentally bumped into them once." A middle aged man says quietly.
Perfect, this is the group I want to annoy.
"Really? I heard that they give their children guns." A little younger woman matches his tone.
"That's nothing, I heard that they stab children who beg." I cut in, doing this big exaggerated look around the circle.
"I heard that they hurt people who gossip." Polly comes out of no where, and I can't help but smirk at her when she meets my eyes.
"Are you two Shelbys?" A snooty woman questions with a sigh before sipping her drink.
"No." I answer, which isn't a lie.
"I'm Arthur's aunt and she's his brother's girlfriend." Polly states and I glare at her, before tucking my hair behind my ear and subtly flipping her off, which she suppresses a smirk at.
"Oh, I see. You seem like lovely people." Another woman replies with a tight lipped smile.
"We are." I nod.
"If you stay on the right side of us." Polly adds, lighting a cigarette.
"But if you don't, we'll drag you through hell."
"Simple really." Polly shrugs lightly.
"Of course... we're family now, nothing but love." The same woman replies with a nervous laugh.
As Polly makes them more uncomfortable I look over my shoulder at Tommy across the room, who's sitting at a large table with a few people but I don't think he's interacting with anyone really, cigarette and liquor in hand. He gives me a wink which makes me smile, and he gestures for me to come over with a nod of his head.
Leaving the group and Polly, I cross the room all the way to my best friend who takes a drag from his cigarette as I stand behind him and wrap my arms around his shoulders, letting my hands dangle above his chest life a necklace.
"Are you done antagonising Linda's family?" Tommy questions with a tiny chuckle.
"Not yet. They're so judgy." I reply, accepting Tommy cigarette when he offers it to me.
"Where do you think Linda gets it from?" He rhetorically asks.
"You look very pretty." I inform, pressing a quick kiss to his forehead when he looks up at me.
"If I look pretty you must be the prettiest person in the world." Tommy says, fiddling with my hands.
"Always a charmer you Shelbys." I tease.
"Eh we know how to talk the talk." He jokes, squeezing my hand. "Do you wanna dance?"
I look out at the dance floor where all the couples seem to be, it's a little bit crowded but seems comfortable.
"Sure." I nod and Tommy stands up before offering his hand with a boyish smile.
I match his smile and take his hand, Tommy leads us to the dance floor where I place my hand on his shoulder, keeping the other comfortably in his hand, whilst Tommy places his hand on my lower back. The song is quite a fast paced one, so there's no room for a slow dance.
Tommy and I expertly shuffle through the dance floor, him twirling me out every now and then, as we talk and laugh. "Why are old ladies so judgy?"
"I don't know, their better days are behind them and they can't get over that." Tommy offers an amused suggestion.
"I think it's because they---" I cut myself off with a squeal when Tommy surprises me by twirling me out into the dance floor making me laugh. "Give me a warning next time!"
He just smiles down at me as he looks into my eyes. "No, I like making you laugh."
"You always make me laugh, especially with your questionable choices." I tease, squeezing his hand. "I mean what were you thinking letting Finn---"
"I'm not going into this again, he wanted to do it and who am I to say no?" Tommy replies with a light laugh. "That would make both of us a hypocrite."
"We were more mature at the time..."
"Oh really? That's what you call maturity?" Tommy questions amused, as we swiftly move through the crowd as the song begins to end.
"We may have broken a few things but there's no harm done." I state, letting Tommy spin me one last time before a slower song comes on and we match our dancing to the rhythm.
"Sure, no harm done." He mocks me with a laugh, which makes me laugh.
Thomas sways us through the bunches of people as we lapse into a comfortable silence, settling into our own worlds.
"I think I'm falling in love with you, Cora." Tommy tells me, continuing to sway us as he looks deep into my eyes and it feels like he's looking into my soul.
All I can do is smile.
"Yeah? You think?" I chuckle and he matches my smile.
"Mm." He hums, with a nod.
"That's alright, because I think I'm falling in love with you, too." I reply, causing him to break out into the biggest smile.
We pause our moving, standing still amongst all the other couples dancing. Tommy cups my face with his hands and goes to kiss me. "What about your family?" I question, when were mere inches away.
He smiles. "Fuck 'em, they all practically know anyway."
I reply by closing the gap between us, kissing my best friend in the middle of the dance floor as couples dance around us whilst we're stood still, in the midst of his brother's wedding. Tommy's thumb brushes my cheekbone gently as we stand in our own bubble, oblivious to what's going on around us, smiling into our kiss.
"I love you, Cora Witton." Tommy utters, pressing his forehead against mine with a smile.
"I love you, Tommy Shelby." I utter back, kissing him again which makes my toes curl.
"What do you say we finish this dance, get a little drunk, and then go home?" Tommy suggests, tucking some hair behind my ear. "If you can handle Linda's stare that long that is because from where I'm looking, she doesn't look that happy that we stole the spotlight from her on her wedding day." Tommy chuckles, looking over my shoulder at his family.
I look over at them too, seeing how they look shocked yet look like they expected it, and I meet Linda's glare, happy at how I've pissed her off.
"You're such an attention whore." I joke, looking back at Tommy.
"You know it." He smirks and begins to sway us again.
It feels like everything I've ever worked for in my life has led up to this moment. This is what I get after years of struggling, and fuck is it worth it.
"I want this song to play at our wedding."
"Oh, we're getting married now are we?" I chuckle fondly, liking the sound of that.
"If all goes to plan, yeah."
474 notes · View notes