Randomness! (Hamilton Edition)

Can you not? (Fluffy!)Reader x Hercules Mulligan

Things to look out for: 

(e/c)= eye color 

(h/c)= hair color

(s/c)= skin color 

(f/c)= favorite color

(s/f/c)= second favorite color

(y/n)= your name

(y/l/n)= your last name 

If you don't like reading those, you should be able to download an add on called Interactive Fics, where you plug in the tags and replace them with what they are. Ex: (e/c) can be replaced to say brown, or whatever your eye color is. Now to the One Shot:

This damn dress is so constricting, yet beautiful. It flowed down, hugging your curves perfectly, and brushed the floor. It was a (f/c) dress, it looked great on you, and it was killing you slowly.

You huffed, trying to breathe, and felt your face begin to flush. You needed this thing to be loosened, but who could help you with that? Your mother was out currently, your father is at the pub, you have no siblings nor a courtier. You didn't have a courtier because of your size, but god dammit, you should be able to eat what you want and not be judge for it.

You sighed, trying to get another breath in when you stumbled out of the house in a suffocated daze. You barely made it to the cobblestone road before You had to stop and catch your breath again. You looked up, (h/c) hair falling out of its once neat bun and slicing your vision into ribbons. A man with a top hat appeared disgusted at you as he sped away in his carriage.

"Help," you huffed, not being able to breathe correctly. In an attempt to find help, your (e/c) eyes scanned the roadside stores. A small wooden one with a needle and thread on the sign caught your darkening gaze.

You carefully sprinted across the road and into the store, gasping for air and trying not to claw your favorite dress.

"Help...me," you gasped, slamming into the wooden counter and falling to your knees. How you managed to get all the way from your home to here is unknown to you, but you managed to do it.

A man from the back emerged from the splintering door behind the counter. He wore a black coat that grazed the top of his calves, cream colored pants, a white buttoned shirt and a cloth bag on his hair. His dark brown gaze scanned the store before catching your fallen form.

"Miss!" he exclaimed, hopping over the counter and kneeling by your (s/c) body. He placed a dark ear next to your mouth and felt nothing. Internally panicking, he flipped you onto your stomach and tore the (s/f/c) sash around you waist. Nothing.

Trying not to scream in frustration he stood up and ran his head along the front desk. Mentally sighing, his large hand gripped the shears and he crouched back down to your form. He gently placed the scissors on your neck and slid it underneath your clothing, cutting the dress away from your skin.

Before he even got to your lower back, you sat up gasping and coughing. The tailor held your neck up as your fit died down.

"Miss, are your alright?" he asked, scanning your face for any sign of distress.

"Yes, yes, I'm fine. But my dress," you trailed off, avoiding his intense stare and blushing an unnatural shade of red.

"I can fix it. I can even add beads, extra seams, pockets- "

"Can you not? I just need it fixed back up normally," you answered, silencing his babbling with a wave of your hand.

"Can I at least ask for a favor?" he asked, tilting his head and leaning away from you, leaving you to grab your dress and clutch it to your chest.

"Wha-what do you want? I have no money and mother and father cannot afford to pay you anything, since the war started you know?" you stammered, sitting up normally.

"You have to model for me."

"Can I not?"

"Nope. I saved your life, that is the least you can do, beautiful. Now come on, lets fix that dress!" he chirpped, picking you up easily in his large arms. He then preceeded to take you to the back, sat you behind a small screen so you could undress. He then took your dress and fixed it, handing it back to you and helping you put it on.

"Soo, I'm Hercules Mulligan, you can call me Herc. And I expect you to be back here by tomorrow morning. Understand?" he ordered as you both stepped outside on the cobbled street. Surpressing a giggle, you answered.

"Yes sir. I'm (y/n) by the way. (Y/n) (y/l/n.)"