#I think I’ll step away from this fandom for the time being

[dexxtrosee]

Safekeeping

Dr. Michael "Robby" Robinavitch x f!reader

Summary: A baby got to the ER thirty minutes ago and hasn't stopped crying since. It's starting to get on everyone's nerves. He is, unfortunately, the one in charge, so it's his problem to deal with.

A/N: Set a few months after the last episode of The Pitt's S1. Mind you, this was supposed to be me testing the waters with the fandom and instead I got dunked, I just can't get this man out of my head. Oh well. Part one, I guess?

There´s a baby crying two rooms away from the one he’s at. 

The baby hasn’t stopped crying in thirty minutes, a world of difference from the case Robby is currently using as a teaching lesson for Santos and Whitaker. He doesn’t need to be a genius in emotional expression to notice she’s bored to death, while Whitaker seems relieved to be away from an immediate life threatening situation for once. He won’t admit it, not even to Dana, but he is using it as both a punishment for her and a break for him. He barely got between her and an abusive mother just a few hours ago before they drew blood. He managed to save Santos from being escorted out in cuffs along with the mother by sheer force of willpower and some favors owed by the cops.

And he won’t say it to her either, but if he were thirty years younger and a tad more stupid, that would have been him. She doesn’t need to know that, though.

“Are you a smoker, miss Rossi?”

The lady, a seventy year old woman who insists on them calling her miss, because she’s “divorced, dammit”, shakes her head and turns to look at her granddaughter. Robby can practically hear her thoughts (Can you believe this boy?) and has to bite back a chuckle. 

“Do you, by any chance, often cook on firewood?”

Miss Rossi shakes her head again, this time with an added eye roll. The baby hasn’t stopped crying. 

Whitaker is starting to play with his hands, glancing nervously at the granddaughter and at Santos. The boredom seems to have eased a bit, now replaced by amusement from seeing the poor boy suffer. Robby doesn’t interfere. 

“Have you done strenuous activity recently?”

At this, the teenage girl sitting by her side perks up, glancing at her grandmother with pursed lips. Robby smiles when Whitaker catches it and latches onto it like a starved animal. 

“Maybe cleaning around the house? Too long walks? Heavy lifting?”

Miss Rossi finally seems to think about it. Santos starts fidgeting where she’s standing, checking her watch. He suppresses a sigh and writes a mental note about mentioning it to her. The baby hasn’t stopped crying. 

“Well, I went with the kids to the park this morning. Had to chase them around when they grabbed the youngest and put her inside the basket of one of the bikes! Can you believe it? Those fuckers.”

They all let out some chuckles and sighs of relief. 

“Are you from Allegheny, miss Rossi?”

She nods, smiling for the first time since they both got here. “Born and raised, boy.”

Robby nods at him, giving him a thumbs up. Santos tries to hide her own smile. 

“Alright, seems you can handle this one.” Robby glares briefly at Santos, and she nods with so much annoyance he shakes his head. “I’ll go check on other cases, call me if anything happens.”

He doesn’t wait to see the answers, just steps out and walks straight to the room with the crying baby. 

Before he enters, he notices Dana standing inside and talking softly to, he assumes, the mother. She has her back to him, shoulders shaking and head hung low. Samira and McKay are bent over a cradle. A hole inside his stomach appears when he notices how anxious they both seem to be. 

“Good morning, I’m doctor Robinavitch. What seems to be the problem here?”

Dana turns, frowning and looking at him like he’s the worst thing to happen to her today. He reels back slightly, tries to peek behind her back. She shakes her head, motions him to fuck off. 

McKay doesn’t move. Samira stands up straight like he just pulled her back string, nervous. “All good, sir. We can handle this one, no worries.”

Robby frowns, bites back the need to tell them all off. “Well, that poor thing hasn’t stopped crying in more than half an hour. Are you sure?”

McKay waves at him from her bent position, shaking her head furiously without actually turning to look at him. 

Without saying anything, he turns to Dana again. She sighs, lets go of the mother’s hands and pushes him out of the room with no explanation. Before she closes back the curtain, he tries and fails to catch a glance at the mother.

“What the fuck is going on?”

He loves Dana, he truly does. Still, sometimes he wishes he could work with someone less hardheaded. He has enough of it in himself.

“She doesn’t want any men near her baby.”

Robby tilts his head, frowns deeper. “Should I call the cops?”

Something inside him burns and itches when Dana shakes her head. “They’re already aware of anything worth reporting.”

Robby nods, clenches his hands. He doesn’t know what to do with himself when the baby lets out a louder cry. “What the hell is wrong then? They haven’t figured it out yet? Should I bring Collins here?”

She’s busy dealing with a broken leg from a teenage boy that got too excited with his skateboard, but the cries are starting to get on everyone’s nerves, he can see it. 

“Maybe you should, yeah.”

“Fuck.”

He turns away, walks to Langdon and grabs him away from the nurse bay. He doesn’t protest, hasn’t since he came back last month. It still weirds Robby out. 

“I need you to finish Collins’ case, she has to help out with a different one.”

“I can do it,” The need for approval drips from his words. It still twists Robby’s chest. He shakes his head, doesn’t explain, pushes him inside and motions Collins out with just a smile to the parents.

“Need you to help in Room Two, I’m sorry.”

She gets it immediately, smiles softly and nods. She’s trying again, Robby knows. Still, he’s tried his best to keep her away from any babies. 

When they go back, Dana steps out and grabs Robby. He lets her lead him to the corner between rooms, crossing his arms. “I’m not going anywhere near the baby unless it’s completely necessary, I know. What now?”

“She wants to talk to you.”

The mother, he guesses. He nods, interlaces his fingers and then unthreads them when he notices how tense he feels from it. 

“Just… be gentle, Robby. She looks six seconds away from throwing up out of stress.”

There are so many things he could say to that. Instead, he just nods. Dana goes inside, doesn’t come out again.

When the mom steps out, the first thing that crosses his mind is “wow, holy shit”.

Then he starts berating himself because, holy fuck, what the hell was that?

You take a few steps closer to him, playing with your fingers, and cleaning a few stray tears away from your face. His hands twitch by his sides.

“Hi.”

Dear God, take him now. Warmth spreads all over his chest when your voice reaches his ears. 

“Hello,” he starts. He has to clear his throat before continuing. “Dana mentioned you wanted to talk to me, I’m doctor Robinavitch. Or Doctor Robby, if you prefer.”

You nod, trying and failing to smile at him. “Nice to meet you. Are you… like, the boss around here?”

He nods, unsure of how you may react. He doesn’t notice any disgust or annoyance, but there’s no positive reaction either. He relaxes his shoulders and makes sure to leave his hands visible. 

“Indeed I am. What can I do for you?”

He has to hold his breath when you raise your head to look at him straight to his eyes. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck-

“Can you make sure no male nurses or doctors come near her?”

Irrationally, he wants to sit you down and make you spit out any and all information about your baby. Why you seem so scared one second and ready for combat the next, why your eyes are so pretty, why you don’t let him near the babygirl.

Instead, he just nods, asks softly “Is there anything or anyone we should be worried about?” 

You shake your head, give him a satisfied smile that seems to pull the ground from under him. “No, not anymore.”

He opens his mouth to speak, but no words come out. He feels lightheaded, unsure of where he stands. You tilt your head slightly, then jump when Collins comes out. He realizes now that the crying stopped. 

“I’m sorry to interrupt, but can we have a word?”

Your face falls. It makes him irrationally mad, wants to twist the world around until you’re smiling again. He doesn’t move.

“What’s wrong? Is it serious?”

Collins puts her hand on your hand in an effort to comfort you, shaking her head. He glares at her hand like it personally offended him. “Nothing serious, it seems like she just had an allergic reaction to formula. Could you tell me which one she's taking?”

It’s almost like he vanishes into thin air as soon as there’s something related to the baby anywhere near you. You turn around, back to him while you pull up a picture in your phone and show it to Heather. She nods and smiles, letting you know it’s nothing too bad. He notices your entire body relaxing, and the tips of his ears turn red. 

“So what should I do at home now?”

The anxiety you exude makes him tense, almost angry. He’s bothered by not being able to get an actual look at the situation, relegated to talking to you only and away from what seems to be the center of your universe. He takes a deep breath to try and push out the uncomfortable feeling of uselessness.

“We would like to keep her here, at least for today just to keep an eye on how she reacts with different formulas, and maybe give her some fluids in case she’s dehydrated.” Heather’s voice is tender, gentle in a way he’s not sure he could manage now, not after so many years of hoping it would help and seeing it turn people into aggressive maniacs. 

But you just nod, pocketing your phone before turning back to look at him again and knocking the air out of his lungs. 

He's sure he's earned his year in Hell when faint excitement blooms as he realizes you'll be around for a few hours. He doesn't understand what's happening, why he's acting like a teenage boy with a crush or a fresh student handling his first case with an attractive person. Fuck. Fuck.

“Can you make sure the people from other shifts respect what I ask?”

He’s already mentally preparing his speech for Jack. “Of course. And I’ll see if we can keep you here along with your baby, just to be safe.” 

You beam at him, and once again, he feels like the Earth tilts under him. “Thank you, doctor Robby.”

He notices Dana staring at him from inside the room, grinning.

Oh, he’s absolutely fucked.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

AO3

[starshoyo]

Hi! I think I talk on behalf of all the fandom when I say that I need a second part of that suna!fake boyfriend scenario/fic, just saying

Lots of love uwu

FAKE BOYFRIEND II ★

PAIRING Suna Rintarou x fem! reader

WARNINGS aggressive behavior (from ex)

TAGS suna’s protective asf, your ex is still an ass

IN WHICH your ex waits for you outside of your home, and Suna just happened to be there at the right time

A/N Thank you for the support! Hope you enjoy <3

<- 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐎𝐍𝐄 | 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

EVER SINCE THAT day, you had a small war within yourself, pondering whether to ask Suna out or not. Well, you were planning to disguise it by telling him you wanted to treat him dinner as thanks. It took you a week before you finally sent him a message.

To your surprise, he replied almost instantly, and you had ended up texting throughout the night. On your first “date”, you were so nervous that it would be awkward between the two of you, especially because you were practically polar opposites.

You found out that Suna was full of surprises, because he had the same interests as you. He liked the same movies you did, and listened to the music you listened to. You found yourselves having deep conversations, and slipping into small talk in repetition just as easily.

Not to mention how much of a gentleman he was. The movements were automatic and subconscious, but they still made your heart pound. He would open doors for you, pull out your chair, and held your purse. When you went to the bathroom, you came back to the bill already paid.

Chivalry wasn’t something you were used to, and it definitely wasn’t something Takeshi cared about.

You learned that Suna was a tattoo artist, who also helped out at Atsumu’s garage once in a while, fixing street race cars. He was the complete opposite as you, who was in college, working part time at a cafe. Still, you clicked instantly.

You lived in a two story apartment complex, and after your nth date with Suna, he walked you home. Takeshi still texted you time to time, so you finally blocked him weeks ago. You hadn’t seen him since, and you definitely didn’t expect to see him today.

Suna grinned down at you as you gave him back his jacket that he lent you. It was now fall, about a month since you’ve first met Suna. The sun had long set under the horizon, and the two of you stood under the star filled skies.

“Thanks for today.” He hummed, a gentle finger placing a strand of hair behind your ear. You found yourself leaning into his warm touch, craving more. “I want to see you again, soon.” You said so softly that you weren’t sure if he even heard.

But he indeed heard it, resisting the urge to lean down and press a firm kiss into your soft hair. So instead, he brushed his thumb against your cheek affectionately. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then.” He smiled, fingers sliding away from your reddening cheek.

“Bye.” You whispered. He watched you as you turned, climbing the steps to your apartment on the second floor. You felt his gaze burning holes into your back, your heart pounding in your ears. When you were finally out of his sight, he turned on his heel, a slight bounce in his step as he walked away.

Your eyes were on the floor as you walked towards your door, biting your lips and trying to contain the silly smile on your face. You giggled at a memory, tips of your ears impossibly redder.

You had only finally noticed that someone was standing in front of your door when their feet came into your sights, and you looked up, surprised.

Surprise quickly turned into fear when you saw the familiar face of Takeshi, who was leaning against the wall next to your door. He raised a brow, kicking off the wall. “Well, finally. I’ve been waiting for an hour, now.” He mumbled, as if he had told you he would be here.

His presence was like cold water being splashed onto the warm embers of your date, snuffing out any giddiness you felt. The smile was wiped off your lips, and when you took a step back, he wasted no time maneuvering his body so he caged you between your door and him.

Your legs shook in fear, but you scowled as you glared up at him. “What are you doing here, Takeshi?” You spat through grit teeth, pressing yourself against your door and trying to get more space between the two of you.

His hands were planted on the sides of your head, expression filled with irritation. “You know what I’m doing here. You blocked me, didn’t you?” He huffed, voice deep and eyes a little crazy.

Your heart was pounding in your ears for a different reason now, balling your hands into fists to stop them from trembling. “I had every right to block you. We’re not dating anymore, Takeshi. Get that through your thick skull.”

You flinched as he punched the space next to your head. Your eyes widened at his outburst, all confidence gone. “No, you listen to me. We are not done until I say we’re done. You didn’t give me time to explain shit, and then went off to open your legs to another man. How dare you?”

There were a thousand things you wanted to say against his berating words, but they were all stuck in your throat, and all you could do was look up at him with eyes that were starting to water. He was being aggressive, and a hint of alcohol was mixed with every breath that fanned your face.

Suna was three minutes into walking home, when he dug his hands into his jacket pockets for warmth and realized you had left your favorite lipstick in one of them. He smiled gently at the cosmetic, a memory of you talking about how much you loved it floating somewhere in the back of his mind.

He turned around, heading back. Maybe it was an excuse to see you one more time before the end of the day.

He walked up the steps, turning the corner to walk down the hall that lead to your door. He stopped in his tracks when he saw another man there.

It was a familiar man, a frame he had seen before. Short, lanky, and most definitely Takeshi. Suna was frozen for a second, registering what was happening in his head. But when he realized that you were crying, and Takeshi was practically barking in your face, his body moved before he could come to a decision.

Suna fisted a hand into Takeshi’s shirt, a violent smack echoing through the night as his fist connected with the latter’s jaw. You gasped, body still pressed against the door, chest heaving.

“I swear, if you ever talk to her like that,” Suna huffed, a growl underlying each breath. He was furious, that was for sure. You weren’t sure if you were terrified of the fact that he had just smacked the shit out of Takeshi, or the fact that there was a small part of you that loved his protectiveness.

“If I ever even see you again, I’ll fucking kill you.” He finished, before taking the keys in your hand. He unlocked the door, hand on your waist and leading you inside. You couldn’t even see if Takeshi got up or not before Suna’s slammed the door behind him, locking it.

It was then that he finally took a breath, facing the door with his back turned to you. There was silence for a couple heart beats, both of you not sure what to say next. What… what just happened?

Suna was the first to speak up. “I’m sorry.”

His words were soft, all the anger inside him flushing out and instead filling with guilt. Your head reeled back in confusion. “You’re sorry?”

He turned around, and it pained you at how disappointed he looked, scrunching his brows. “I didn’t- I shouldn’t have-” He stuttered, the words dying at the tip of his tongue every attempt. You frowned, immediately wrapping your arms around his neck, bringing him down into a tight hug.

He was taken off guard at first, standing as stiff as a board, before finally melting into your touch and returning the embrace. “Thank you for saving me. Again.” You whispered into his skin, sending a chill down his spine.

His strong arms wrapped around your middle, holding you like you were fragile, despite the fact that he had displayed his strength just seconds ago. Unsaid words were exchanged during that hug, heart to heart.

He pulled away, and you almost held him tighter, trying to get him back in your space, when he pressed his lips against yours. It was soft and warm, but sent sparks like fireworks throughout your entire frame.

His hands held the sides of your face now, lips moving in perfect sync. All words that were afraid to be said had been communicated in that short moment, and when you pulled apart, he looked into your eyes with such adoration that you thought you would melt into a puddle in that spot.

“Let me protect you, (Name). Let me be yours.” He said in a hushed tone, thumbs brushing your cheeks gently. You held the hands on your face, nodding furiously, like he had just gifted you the stars. “Be mine, Rin.”

[prettygirl-gabi]

Chapter 1: Through the Lens of Dreams

Rating: General Audiences

Warning: none, reader being distant with the team (more so paige)

Paring: Paige Bueckers x !photographer fem reader

Fandom: Women's basketball

Summary: "Paige Blockers" being a blocker...

Welcome to the chapter 1 of my New full length series called :Through The Lens. I hope you all enjoy and there is more to come...stay tuned my loveies!! 🏀💕📸

The assignment came as a surprise. One minute I was doodling in my notebook, bored out of my mind during Professor Gold's lecture, and the next, he was calling on me.

“Y/N, for your final project, how about something a bit more personal? Something that moves you?”

I blinked, trying to process the shift from the lecture’s dull monotony to my name echoing through the classroom. “Uh, like personal?” I asked, my voice hesitant.

“Yes,” Professor Gold said, his tone encouraging. “Think about what inspires you, what makes you feel alive. Your work has always been strong in capturing emotion and detail—why not channel that into something truly meaningful?”

I tilted my head, chewing on his suggestion. What did inspire me? Basketball had always been a big part of my life, from growing up watching UConn Women’s Basketball games with my mom to attending as a fan now. Maybe it wasn’t the worst idea.

“I… guess I could photograph the UConn Women’s team,” I said slowly, unsure if it would land right.

Professor Gold gave a reassuring nod. “Perfect. Use their stories, their passion, their journey. Show us what it means to be part of something bigger.”

A week later, I found myself walking toward the campus arena, my camera slung over my shoulder. It was game day, and I couldn’t help the excitement buzzing beneath my skin. The night’s game against a strong opponent was sure to be intense, and I couldn’t wait to capture it all through my lens.

Coach Geno Auriemma stood near the court, chatting with a few players, and I took a deep breath before stepping up to him.

“Coach Auriemma,” I said, approaching carefully. “I’m Y/N. I’ve been working on a project for Professor Gold, and I was wondering if I could talk to you for a moment about using the team as my subject.”

Coach turned, his eyes scanning me before a small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “Y/N, right? Professor Gold mentioned you.”

I nodded, feeling a little more at ease under his gaze. “I��d love to capture moments from your team—practices, games, everything. I think it would make for a unique perspective.”

“Unique is good,” Coach said thoughtfully. “We’re always looking for new ways to connect with the fans and our supporters. Just make sure you’re capturing the right shots, no distractions for the team.”

“Yes, sir,” I replied quickly. “I’ll stay out of the way, I promise.”

The game was electric. I had never been this close to the court before, my heart racing as I snapped shot after shot. Paige Bueckers stood out, as she always did—smooth, confident, her presence commanding attention. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from her.

But then it happened.

Paige leaped for a block, her form graceful and determined. The sound of the ball slamming against her outstretched hand echoed through the arena. In a flash, the ball ricocheted toward me, and before I could even react, it collided with my camera.

The impact sent the camera crashing to the floor, shards of shattered lens scattering across the court.

Time seemed to freeze. My breath hitched as I stared at the mess of broken glass and metal. My favorite camera—ruined.

“Shit,” I whispered, crouching down to survey the damage.

Later that night, after the game had ended and I had made my way back to my dorm, I couldn’t stop thinking about Paige. The collision hadn’t just broken my camera—it had broken something inside me, too.

I knew I couldn’t keep avoiding her, but every time I thought about facing Paige again, I froze.

The next morning, I dragged myself to class, feeling like a walking ghost. It didn’t help that I shared a seat with KK Arnold, Paige’s teammate. KK wasn’t just my classmate—she was also someone who had seen the whole thing unfold.

“Hey, Y/N,” KK greeted with a smile, settling into her seat. “How’s the camera situation? Saw that you got a little too close to Paige’s shot block.”

I winced, my stomach twisting. “Yeah, it wasn’t… great.”

She chuckled softly, but her expression softened when she noticed my downcast eyes. “Look, Paige didn’t mean to—she feels bad about it, I know she does. It was an accident. She wasn’t trying to—”

“I know,” I cut in, forcing a smile. “It’s not her fault. Really.”

KK gave me a skeptical look but didn’t press further. “Just… maybe try not to avoid practice today? You’ve been avoiding the team, right?”

I bit my lip, feeling the weight of her words. Avoiding practice wasn’t helping me, but every time I thought about Paige, the memory of that broken camera flashed in my mind.

“I’ll think about it,” I murmured, turning my attention back to the lecture.

By the afternoon, I found myself back at the arena. The air felt different this time, heavier. The stands were packed, buzzing with energy, but I stayed focused on my camera, careful not to interfere with the team.

As I snapped photos, I caught glimpses of Paige—so effortless, so composed. Each shot of her was different, yet every one seemed to highlight that same magnetic presence she carried on the court.

Then, our eyes met.

It was only for a second, but it felt like the world stopped. Paige’s gaze held mine, soft but uncertain, like she was trying to say something without words.

I quickly looked away, heart thudding in my chest.

Later, after practice had ended and the court was mostly cleared, I lingered in the stands, replaying the moments over and over in my head. Paige’s block, the collision, the shattered camera—it wasn’t just a random accident. It had changed everything.

But as much as I wanted to hold on to the anger, the frustration, I couldn’t deny the pull toward her.

■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■

-Thank You For Reading!🩵🩶

-prettygirl-gabi🎀✨️

Tag list: @sayurireidotcom , @astroeliza .... (more to be added)

[mullermilkshake]

Don’t leave me all on my own, it’ll break me

Part 13 <- Part 14 -> Part 15

Jinwoo proves to you that you and his children and his first priority.

Yandere!Jinwoo Sung x Fem Hunter!reader Tags - Pregnant reader, angst, upset, bonding, manipulation and taking advantage

<<< For more Dark/Yandere content, click this link to go back to the Masterlist! >>>

<<< Or back to this fic's Master list. >>>

Kind reminder - I have only seen the anime, I’ll get round to reading the manhwa, but I have a lot going on in my life at the moment that's affecting my health so it'll be a while, so if anything seems ooc, I’m working on it lol 😎. I only know of what the anime showed, nothing else, I’m trying to remain spoiler free but it’s proving difficult. I'm researching what I can and I've had stuff spoiled that way too 😂 I try to keep the characters as canon as I can but they write themselves. (Yeah, they can be unruly like that) that being said, I am taking into account of your comments and what sort of storyline you're wanting to see, (but please don't ask for anything to be added) I’m going at this chapter by chapter, by the seat of my pants. I have no clue what these characters are doing until they do it 😂

Thank you for your patience and continued support, I fell in love with the anime immediately and adored this fandom the minute I stepped into it and I’ve been welcomed with opened arms which I appreciate.

I love you, pookies!

(Also, if anyone knows how I could read the manwha offline, I'd really appreciate it. 🤗)

"Jinwoo... is that true?" 

You ignored the rumble of excitement, the journalists shoving mics in your face and endless questions that Jinwoo couldn’t quite hear. Your betrayed look broke his heart.

“No. it’s not-”

“Hunter Sung! Can you comment on the good news?” 

“How far along, has it been a smooth pregnancy so far?” 

“Hunters, what happens now that Hunter Sung is leaving? What of this facility?” 

Jinwoo pushed past the journalist’s invasive questions and guarded you enough to pry you away from their grasp. He ignored Jong-in’s calls and stormed past Have-in to slip back into the room he'd been in before and shut the door to the world behind him. It took everything in his self restraint that was barely there not to flatten the entire room. Killing all of them seemed about as close to reaching neutrality as Jinwoo was going to get. 

You just stood there, in silence, staring at the wall in that oversized sweater hiding the twins away from prying eyes. So broken and empty, your eyes plain and emotionless despite the tear slipping from your cheek.

It was the only thing to cool Jinwoo down from erupting. The only thing, besides you and the babies that leashed his impulsivity was giving away any inclination to what his darker side was like until he got what he wanted. It was why the Chairman still had a head. Why Jong-in still had his face intact.

“This is…” How could Jinwoo tell you without making himself look guilty? Without proving the Chairman’s lies on desperation you would not take them at face value.

“Are you leaving me- putting me in that place like Hae-in? You said you didn’t want that… tell me it’s not true, because I can’t believe that…” You breath picked up, erratically filling the rooms unsettled quiet amongst the rumble behind the doors.

“I’m not.” He said, taking two steps towards you.

“No.” You backed away, biting your trembling lip. “Don’t come near me… After all that about never trusting the association with the babies and putting your foot down about help from the Chairman- and, fuck, I don’t know what to think. you say you care and have these feelings, but I saw you go off and talk to the Chairman. If you want to be rid of me, just say it. But I have to hear it from you, not publicly in a room full of people!”

You were pregnant, hormonal and therefore unreasonable. Jinwoo didn’t take it to heart despite it hurting, had this been any other time, you would have used logic.

Jinwoo couldn’t bear seeing you cry. “He dropped it on me. I told him no before he could even finish. I would never do that because I-”

He had to stop himself, you had only just gotten used to being addressed as his girlfriend, no way could you take hearing his love for you too. It was all happening too fast in one singular moment. 

It can’t end like this. 

“Because what?” You said, wrapping your arms around you and blinking the residual tears away after your curiosity got the better of you.

“I just think we should take a minute to simmer down-”

“What were you going to say?” You stepped closer, but never touched him.

Jinwoo wanted to tell you, he really did. He craved it, using three words to express himself where he hadn’t been allowed to yet. No room to spread his wings and really let himself go to embrace you and his new found purpose with no limitations.

“Because…” Even upset, eyes red and wet, you were so beautiful. What could he say to you that wasn’t what he was feeling?

“Because you what, Jinwoo?! I don’t know if you can tell, but I’m really freaking out here!”

“Because I love you, that’s why!” There it was. No turning back now.

He should never have shouted or raised his voice. That was unfair to you.

It seemed to calm you though, oddly enough. Though it could have been shock. “You what?”

“I love you. You’re the mother of my children, and you think I’d leave you in that place just to fuck someone I don’t care about? To keep the Chairman happy? Never. I don’t want to be anywhere that isn’t with you, I’d lay down on the floor so you could walk all over me if it made you happy. I’m disappointed that I haven’t communicated that well enough with my actions, but I’ll show you every day until you understand… I shut Chairman Go down right away and walked out, I never agreed to this. It’s not what I want, it’s not what I’ll ever want. The Chairman's programme can go to hell.”

You stood there, taking deep breaths into the sleeve of your sweater, which soon switched to more shallow and panicked. “You… is that… Oh my god- oh god… it’s too hot in here- I need this off- I need it off.”

Jinwoo rushed to your side and tried to pry your hands from your sweater neck, stretching the material with little whimpered cries and more tears that Jinwoo had ever seen from your eyes.

“I can’t breathe- get it off- get it off of me!”

Another mana spike came right in front of Jinwoo’s eyes, more powerful than last time. And his shadows even noticed, it triggered Igris to appear for a moment before his eyes though Jinwoo never called him forward. You however, were too riled up to notice, if you could now sense the twins aura all of a sudden, you didn’t let on.

“Jinwoo!”

He pulled your sweater off and kept you close, your limp body sobbing into his shirt, clutching at it for dear life in a wet mess. Jinwoo stroked your hair as a way to try to comfort you after dropping his heart on the room, a lot to process when the timing was all wrong

Jinwoo crouched down to the floor, you moved down with him and sat in his lap all curled up and clinging to his arm. The babies aura was still heightened, pulsing almost. They must have been responding to you, though Jinwoo was surmising, you still didn’t notice.

“I’m so tired of this. I just want to be left alone. I want everyone to leave us alone, Jinwoo.” 

“I know… I know…”

After the initial shock of declaring his love for you, Jinwoo rocked you.  He needed to do something about the Chairman sooner rather than later, this could not continue and it prompted him to take the initiative, to attempt to send one of his shadows into the Chairman’s presence the next opportunity. He could have been as perceptive as you for all Jinwoo knew, but he had to try. The Chairman wouldn’t get away with upsetting you like this again, he simply wouldn’t allow it. Though if anything the Chairman did succeed in, was allowing Jinwoo the choice to use violence.

Violence on the old man and if he was lucky, if he pushed Jinwoo far enough, he’d cease to exist regardless of the backlash or consequences. In truth, who was actually strong and fast enough to even out match him to throw punishment his way?

I could kill him and anyone else who tried to stop me. The way I feel now, I doubt I’d feel any remorse for it. It wasn't a good intrusive thought no matter how much Jinwoo agreed with it.

“Oh god… I’m such a mess. I was never this emotional.” You sniffled, rubbing your cheek against his shirt and fiddling with the collar. “You… really love me?”

“I do. So much. I just didn’t say anything because I was worried you’d leave.”

And just like that, the mana spike vanished and stopped pulsing like high blood pressure. A calm room, a calm mind. You relaxed in his arms, and the babies followed suit.

“I don’t know how to feel, I’m so confused-”

Jinwoo shook his head and watched you carefully, pressing his lips to your forehead. “Don’t overthink it. I get it if you don’t feel the same.”

Though the only thing he’d ask of you was your love in return, his desperation to be close to you switched things up, and now that need started to shift to even if you hated him. He’d still love you. He’d still commit unthinkable things for you if you asked.

“Just let me love you, let me take care of you and the babies. That's all I ask.”

“I never said I didn’t feel the same.” You said, pulling away just a fraction to look at him, nose all blushed and cheeks wet. “I’m not sure how to process this, but I don’t want you to go anywhere.”

Well, it wasn’t a ‘I hate you Jinwoo, get the fuck out of here.’ at least. It gave him more hope than anything.

The sentimentality drew Jinwoo closer to you, gently rubbing your baby bump. “That’s enough for me. We can figure it all out as we go along.”

He knew with every inch you gave him, his impulses wanted a mile.

“What do we do now?”

He wanted to keep you in the confines of this room whilst he had it out with the Chairman. Jinwoo wanted to know why a man like as himself, with other responsibilities, was going to such lengths. The more time passed made him see just how much the Chairman had changed. Jinwoo wanted to get down to it, maybe fight the man to air his frustrations as to why he wanted such an influence over his children. He was the association. So why the underhanded tactics to piss Jinwoo off?

The Chairman knew what Jinwoo was capable of, so it made no sense why he was acting the way he was.

I have to know why. 

“We’ll exchange with one of my shadows, Igris will stay with you and I’ll pay the Chairman a visit. I think it’s about time we have a heart to heart.”

You made a disgusted sound, sitting up properly though remaining between his legs. “No, not that again. I threw up last time you took me with you.”

Information like that would have been useful at the time. Jinwoo was only showing you how it worked during the early days of your pregnancy in case he ever had to use it, though he never needed to, until now.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

You shrugged, wiping the drying tears from your face. “I don’t know, you left for a raid before I felt sick, like it was delayed, but I put two and two together. It's not that serious. I think the babies don’t like it, like any mana I use or any that gets used on me, it’s like they hate it. They tolerate eye’s handmaiden, but that’s about it. It's passive, I have no control over that.”

“They move about more than usual?” Jinwoo set his hand back on your belly, rubbing away with his thumb.

“That’s the thing, it’s the opposite. They don’t move at all, it’s like they can’t be bothered with it. It’s only a little movement when they do, I can’t feel it outside yet. But they get active sometimes, like little flutters.”

Jinwoo was waiting for the moment you pulled him to the side and pressed his hand to your belly and wait for the babies movements, the little kicks from their tiny feet. Any day now, according to the doctor.

“Maybe their mana is so strong they don’t need to bother with it? We won’t know until they’re here, but if the data is suggesting that they’re using your mana is correct, they might not be able to tolerate anyone else's."

“I thought about that.” You turned and leant back into him, pressing your back to his chest to which he kept his hands on you. “But I hoped they’d do well with yours at least, you know, being their… Dad.”

What a big turn of events? You’d never really mentioned Jinwoo’s role in this, like his real role. He was the twins father, he would always be. It was like you were coming to terms with it, finally accepting the best to come.

“Could be.”

“Or… maybe they’re just lazy, ever thought of that-“ 

You felt it, Jinwoo did too.

“I think they heard that.” Jinwoo stared in awe, he understood the distinct movement on your belly, a subtle kick, but it was there. “That was what I think it was, right?”

Holy shit. 

It was there, his babies. His babies moving right by his hand like they were trying to grab his fingers. Less than four months to go and he’d hold them in his arms. Four months and his life would change forever. 

“Yeah… I… did they- no they’re babies, they can’t respond, can they?”

Jinwoo chuckled, your stuttering was even cuter this time. Much better than tears streaming down your face. “I think we should start talking to them now, when we get home. Maybe they’ll get used to hearing us?”

For now, Jinwoo’s anger had melted away.

For now.  

But he still wanted a word with the Chairman. Also with Jin-chul, the elusive man who seemed to have vanished from the Chairman’s side.

“Maybe we should. That’s if we can get past that shit show out there. Honestly, it's stressing me out more than if we were just left alone... I'm pregnant with twins, not outer world beings, or gods. I get the excitement, but come on."

“Yeah. We need to think about this carefully, going forward. Something that’ll get the Chairman to back off-”

Actually, this could go in his favour.

An announcement. A big one. Huge. Astronomical. Something to make it difficult for the Chairman to sweep away. A statement that could outshine your pregnancy.

Something extremely public.

“I might have an idea that would stop all of this.” It wasn’t fair to spring this on you while you were vulnerable, or after he’d just told you he loved you, but Jinwoo saw the opportunity and ran with it. “It’s pretty crazy, but it would stop people from interfering.”

“What’s that?”

Should he? Could he? You might slap him if he didn’t ride your mood swing right. 

“Marry me."

Part 13 <- Part 14 -> Part 15

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DISCLAIMER - Crossposted from my AO3 - I do not own any of the characters or anything from the anime or manhwa. This is a work of fan fiction and is absolutely not representative of the views or intentions of the original creator(s).

Also please don’t post any of my work without permission thank you!

[spearbxcheol]

SpiderHan!

｡･:*˚:✧｡ ૮₍ ´• ˕ • ₎ა ｡✧:˚*:･｡

Spider-Man!Han Jisung x Reader.

𖤐 drabble/one-shot?, action, mild violence, implied hostage situation.

𖤐 SpiderHan really had its moment in the fandom and honestly?? we need that comeback, maybe i'll write more of him? 💭

Jisung rolled his eyes at the guy who tried to run away from him on the street. He had just caught him stealing from the 24/7 grocery store — and that wasn’t happening. Not on his watch.

“Hey! Do you seriously think you can outrun me?” Jisung’s voice rang out as the man started gaining distance. “It’s almost 3 a.m., and I promised myself I’d sleep early today. Don’t ruin this for me!”

As he finished complaining about the guy — now nearly turning the next corner — he pointed his hand, and the next thing he knew, his web shooter launched him forward at high speed. His spider-sense kept him safe, guiding him past obstacles and avoiding the lamppost just in time.

The thief didn’t even notice Spider-Man hanging from the lamppost ahead. Jisung could feel a smirk forming under his mask the moment the guy almost tripped from the shock of seeing him there. Jisung gave him a little wave.

“Oh my god!”

What neither of them noticed was you — standing there, frozen, eyes wide in shock. You’d only ever seen Spider-Man on the news, chasing bad guys... and now he was right in front of you. You snapped out of your trance when your dog started barking wildly, reminding you why you were even walking down the street at this hour in the first place.

But before you could grab your dog and walk away, the thief was faster. He yanked your arm, pulling you in front of him and pressing a knife to your throat. You gasped and shut your eyes.

“Back off and I’ll let them go!”

Jisung’s mind raced. It had all happened in a split second. Then he looked at you — and his eyes widened. You were Y/N. The same Y/N who always sat next to him in the class you both shared. You two would laugh at the dumb jokes the professor cracked mid-lecture. You weren’t close, but shared a mutual friend.

“Are you deaf, Spider-Boy?”

The man was holding you tightly, using your body as a shield between him and Spider-Man. Your dog — now off-leash because you’d dropped it — was barking non-stop. You opened your eyes and met the superhero’s gaze.

“Help me, please.” you mouthed.

Jisung didn’t hesitate. He aimed and shot a web at the man’s hand, pulling the knife away and tossing it aside. Then he leapt down from the lamppost, landing right in front of the two of you.

In one swift, precise move, Spider-Man pulled you behind him. You let out a breath, your heart racing. You stepped back as he grabbed the thief by the collar and punched him hard in the face, right on the nose.

The adrenaline surged in Jisung’s body. He had never saved someone he knew before — and now, with you, it all felt heavier. The real weight of his powers. It scared him.

He turned to you. You were holding your dog in your arms again, and even from where he stood, he could see you were shaking. When your eyes met the white lenses of his mask, you took a deep breath.

“Thank you,” you whispered. “I almost ruined everything.”

“No, you didn’t ruin anything,” Jisung said, his voice a little tight. He shook his head. “He’s the one who’s in the wrong here.”

“Are you okay?” he asked, and you nodded. “And what about this little guy?” He extended a hand toward your dog, but was met with a bark.

“Sorry about him!” you apologized, trying to calm your dog, but Jisung smiled behind the mask.

“That’s good! He’s a good boy. Honestly, if I wasn’t here, I bet he would’ve saved you all by himself.” You let out a small laugh and nodded.

“Yeah…” The air between you both was strange. Your body was still trembling after what happened. It hadn’t been a great experience being held hostage at knifepoint. Spider-Man seemed awkward, completely unlike the reports you’d read online. Like he didn’t know what to do once the fighting stopped. And the thief? Still unconscious on the ground.

“I’m going home” you said. “Thanks for saving me, Spider-Man.”

Jisung felt his cheeks heat up at your smile and words. The only thing he could think to do was raise both thumbs up like an awkward teenager as you walked past him, heading back the way you came.

“That was painfully weird.” he muttered to himself, glancing at the guy on the ground. “Please don’t post anything weird about me on the internet…”

He sighed, walked over to the man, pinned him to the wall with webbing, and called the police. Another job by the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man.

[bad268]

Love your writingg!!

Could you write a oneshot with ollie when reader couldn't make it to a race and she got sick while at home but didnt tell ollie cuz it couldve made him shit the race and he comes back home at takes care of herr??

+hiii!! idk if ure still taking request, but maybe an ollie x reader where she gets her wisdom tooth out and the aftermath is just her being chaotic and funny while ollie just goes with everything.

but yeah, i think it’s pretty cute. thank you!

Boyfriend Of The Year (Ollie Bearman X Reader)

Fandom: RPF/F2/F3

Requested: Clearly (I just did a sick fic, so i decided to incorporate these. Hope yall don't mind <3)

Warnings: Wisdom teeth surgery and recovery

POV: Majority Second Person (You/your), some Third Person (They/them)

W.C. 2301

Summary: A routine dentist appointment turns into a secret to keep Ollie sane.

As always, my requests are OPEN

MASTERLIST // HITLIST

~~(^Pinterest)

Your phone was blowing up with texts from Ollie. He was probably wondering where you were at this point since you promised to be at the qualifying session, but due to a dentist appointment scheduled between the sessions, you had to split up. Ollie and his dad drove together, and you took an uber to your appointment. Well, at that dentist appointment, you found out that your chronic jaw pain was actually your wisdom teeth getting dangerous. They were growing inwards and pressing your teeth, so your dentist strongly encouraged an emergency wisdom teeth removal for the same day. Ollie was going to be pissed and you knew it.

“Hey, CareBear,” You greeted in a fake tone. You were still at the dentist, but you stepped outside to get a little bit of privacy. “What’s up?”

“Don’t ‘Hey CareBear’ me! Where are you? You said you were gonna be here,” Ollie asked. He was finally able to let out a breath after running around the paddock trying to find where you were. When he couldn’t find you, he started asking around, but no one had seen you. Then, he started calling you, and coincidentally, the calls were during your x-rays or consultation, so you were not answering. It was driving him insane. “Are you almost here?” 

“The dentist was short-staffed, so they haven't gotten me in yet,” You came up with on the fly. You knew he would hate that you lied to him, but he would also throw his entire race weekend away for you. Yes, it was adorable and it’s part of what made you love him, but this was not the time to be a loving boyfriend. This was the time to show everyone why he deserved the Haas seat. He could be boyfriend of the year afterward. “I can text you when I’m done, but I need to see them today. You know how bad my jaw has been hurting lately.”

“Oh?” Ollie smirked as he lowered his voice, about to make a joke but his dad walked right past him.

“Don’t even start, Oliver,” You pressed as you saw your dentist gesturing for you to come back in, so they could prepare you for the surgery. “Listen, CareBear, I gotta go. I think they’re ready to take me back. I’ll text your dad to pick me up when we start wrapping up. You need to get back for debrief or start preparing for quali.”

“Yeah, I should probably eat something,” Ollie said to himself as he scratched the back of his neck. He had never had to go into qualifying without you, so he was a bit nervous. However, he totally understood that this was something you needed to do. “I’ll get on pole for you.”

“I expect you in the top 22, nothing less,” You joked as you both said goodbye and hung up the call. You headed back inside as they started giving you the rundown on how the surgery would occur. For once, you were thankful for scheduling your appointment in the morning and not eating beforehand. Just before they would put you under, you decided to call Ollie’s dad. It didn’t take long for him to answer.

“Hey, Y/n,” David greeted immediately as he walked toward the back of the garage, “Need me to pick you up? That was awfully quick.”

“Actually no,” You chuckled nervously. “Don’t tell Ollie until after quali, but I’m getting my wisdom teeth out right now. If we tell him, he’s going to freak out.”

“Was this the plan the whole time?” He asked, quieting down as Ollie walked by nonethewiser. He was finishing up before he would be getting in the car, so he had enough on his plate, in your opinion.

“No, I just found out that the jaw pain I thought was the start of TMJ was actually my wisdom teeth growing inwards,” You explained with a smile as you watched your dentist finish setting everything out. “Listen, David, I’ll need you to pick me up in like an hour. Maybe after qualifying break it to him? Or just let him figure it out when I’m loopy. I really don’t care.”

“I’ll take care of him, don’t worry,” David reassured as he saw Ollie gesturing for him to come over before he would get in the car. “Have them call me when you’re done, and we’ll pick you up.”

You thanked him before ending the call and heading into the back where the operation would take place. 

The qualifying session went by quickly for Ollie because it was basically a one-lap shot. Right after the first laps, it started pouring rain, so when Ollie was at the top of the timing page, no one was able to beat him. He tried to call you as soon as he got out of the car, but every call went straight to voicemail. It freaked him out a little, but he brushed it off, thinking you were still getting your cleaning. It wasn’t until his dad was ushering him to change and get to the car park almost as soon as he wrapped up media that he started thinking something was wrong. Ollie sat nervously in the passenger seat as his dad drove in silence, which was completely unusual for him, so he decided to try and break the tension.

“So, dad,” He dragged out as he looked over at his dad. They pulled up to a red light, and David looked at Ollie. “Where are we going?”

“The dentist,” David said simply as he moved the car into first gear when the light changed. “We need to pick Y/n up.”

“Shouldn’t they have finished up during quali?” Ollie asked before muttering to himself, “I thought they would have been in the garage by the end of media.”

“They had to get some work done,” David responded. It was light-hearted, so Ollie wasn’t too worried. When they pulled up, he parked the car but made no move to get out for a second, causing Ollie to look over confused. “They had to get their wisdom teeth out.”

“What? Why didn’t you tell me?” Ollie freaked out, immediately getting out of the car and trying to reach the front door before his dad. Unfortunately for him, his dad anticipated this and beat him to the punch by blocking the door. “Dad, let me in.”

“No, you need to understand why we didn’t tell you,” David pressed as he put a hand on Ollie's shoulder and sheered him back toward the car. “They didn’t want you to be nervous in qualifying. It’s getting to the end of your season, and next year, you’ll be in F1. Everyone’s eyes are on you, and the last thing they wanted was for you to get nervous and risk your position in the championship.”

“That makes no sense! I wouldn’t have thrown the session!” Ollie disputed as he threw his hands up.

“Oh, please,” David tsked, “You almost crashed the car when you found out they had a headache a few months ago. Of course, you wouldn’t completely compromise your qualifying session knowing they were getting surgery. That sounds totally believable to me.” 

“Maybe you have a point,” Ollie mumbled as he dripped his hands to his sides in defeat. He looked back over to his dad as he sighed, “Can we go in now?”

“Are you going to cause a scene?”

“No.”

~

POV Switch-Third POV

All the while, Y/n was just waking up. The team had wrapped up the surgery at the end of qualifying and called David, saying he didn’t need to rush since they still needed to ween Y/n off of the meds and they still needed to pass the memory tests.

Y/n didn’t remember even waking up, but they did semi-register people walking in, around, and out of their room. Most of them were dentists or nurses checking their vitals, but then two people walked in that didn’t look like a dentist or nurse. It was Ollie and David, but Y/n was still too out of it to recognize them (or what they were saying to be honest).

“So they’ll be a little loopy for a while,” one of the dentists said to David, causing him to nod. Ollie had already taken a seat beside you and was holding your hand. The dentist then took David out of the room to talk about how to help clean the wounds and give him a list of foods that Y/n could eat while recovering. Ollie wanted to say something, anything to Y/n but they ended up talking before him.

“Whoever is your significant other is lucky because damn you’re hot,” Y/n chuckled slightly as they fell back against the pillows and smiled sleepily as they looked at him. “They’re like really lucky.”

“Well, you’ll be happy to know that you’re my significant other,” Ollie chuckled with them as he brought their hands up to kiss their knuckles.

“No way!” Y/n said as loud as the gauze in their mouth could allow as their eyes almost fell out of their head. “You’re telling me I bagged you?!”

“You bagged me,” Ollie chuckled in disbelief. He was upset at first that Y/n didn’t tell him sooner, but he couldn’t find it in himself to be mad at them, especially when they said something like that. “If I tell you a word, can you remember it for me?”

“Anything for you, handsome,” Y/n shamelessly flirted as they leaned in a little closer to prop their head against Ollie’s free hand that was resting by their head. 

“The word is ‘pole’,” Ollie said, and Y/n repeated it a couple of times before nodding that they understood it. “Okay, how are you feeling now?”

“I’m feeling tired. I wanna sleep. I wanna eat. I’m hungry. I want someone to tell me what place Ollie is in for the race tomorrow,” Y/n ranted before gasping toward the end, remembering the qualifying session they missed. In the haze, Y/n’s brain never connected that Ollie was sitting in front of them as they went on a rant. “Ollie Bearman is my favorite driver, and I wanna know where he placed. Do you know Ollie?”

“I know of him, yeah,” Ollie said as he bit back a laugh. There was no way he was witnessing this. “I think I know where he placed.”

“Where?” Y/n gasped as they tried to sit up in the bed, but the vitals machine started going off, causing a few personnel to walk in, but Ollie was already pushing them back.

“What was the word from earlier?”

“Pole?” Y/n said confused before it finally connected, “Wait, pole position?”

“Yup, he’s on pole for the feature race,” Ollie smiled at their enthusiasm. “Now, what’s my name?”

“What’s your name? CareBear?”

“Well, yes, but what’s my real name?” 

“Oliver,” Y/n dragged out before the fog cleared enough for them to make the connection. “Wait! Ollie, my CareBear! You’re Ollie!”

“I am,” Ollie chuckled as he leaned over to place a kiss on Y/n’s forehead while the dentists started removing wires and needles from Y/n, so they could leave. Ollie wrapped an arm around their shoulder, knowing Y/n didn’t like needles. He took to whispering reassurance in their ear until they were cleared to leave. Ollie then asked, “You still sleepy?”

Y/n didn’t respond as they were already asleep, so when all of the paperwork was signed, Ollie picked Y/n up to carry them to the car.  The entire ride to the hotel, Y/n was asleep against Ollie’s shoulder until David pulled into the parking spot. That’s when Y/n woke up, stretching their arms above their head.

“I still wanna sleep,” Y/n whined as they leaned back against Ollie. “My legs feel like jelly.”

“I can always carry you again,” Ollie commented already getting out of the car and moving around to help Y/n out. As soon as Y/n stepped out, Ollie’s arm was lifting up their legs to carry them up to their room. Thankfully, David was already leading the way and opening doors for them.

“You’re really working for that Boyfriend Of The Year award, aren't you?” Y/n teased as they plopped their head against Ollie’s shoulder.

“I didn’t know I was in the running,” Ollie joked back as he left a kiss on their nose.

“You’re always in the running,” Y/n pouted before going on another tangent, “Y’know, I’d love to kiss you, but I can’t really feel my lips so I don’t know how that would go.”

“I’ll give you a kiss when you don’t have bloody gauze in your mouth,” Ollie said as he walked up to the door. “Does that sound like a deal?”

“Add some ice cream or smoothies and you’ve got a deal.”

“You can’t drink from a straw, so no smoothies.”

“Buzzkill.”

“Not a buzzkill,” Ollie said simply as he set Y/n down on the bathroom counter, so he could change their gauze. “We’re not risking you getting dry socket.”

“Kissass.”

“How does that make me a kissass?” Ollie chuckled as he helped Y/n down from the counter and to the bed. Ollie fixed the pillows around them to make them comfortable before grabbing an icepack from the freezer. 

“You know the judge of the Boyfriend Of The Year award, and you’re kissing their ass,” Y/n chuckled as they leaned back into the pillows and took the icepacks from Ollie, immediately pressing them against their face. “Let me say, you’re winning.”

“I would hope so,” Ollie retorted, “I should be the only one in the running!”

~~~~~

© BAD268 2024. DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION.

[dilly-dahlia]

This is just little request if you don’t mind! The Aphmau fandom is coming back! <3! (MCD) Garroth x Fem reader, where the reader always checks up on Garroth giving him food and water, and chat with him everyday, since he’s the head guard. Garroth always feels appreciated, but he slowly becoming attached to the reader.

Must Be Love

pairing: Garroth x fem!Reader

content: mcd season 1, fluff, kissing, Donna and Logan’s wedding without the Garroth is a Ro’Meave reveal cause that would’ve been a lot for a one shot

summary: There are many things Garroth had experienced in his life. However, meeting and becoming attached to one of the kindest souls he’s ever met was not one of those things.

word count: 4.9k

a/n: i hope i did Garroth justice cause i’ve never written for that guy. like ever not even in middle school when i first hyperfixated and i’m scared i didn’t get him right

masterlist

The first time you showed up at Phoenix Drop’s jailhouse with a basket of food and a smile on your face, Garroth was shocked. No one typically came to the jail—as the word jail itself was enough to take away anyone’s ease, regardless of its vacancy or the the guards being quartered there—unless they were reporting a problem. Even when they did, they certainly never brought food.

The last time something similar happened was back when Molly came by every day to talk with Dale. Before they fell in love. Now that the pair was happily married, no one had been so welcoming to the guard. Because of that previous experience, Garroth’s initial thought had been that you’d taken a similar interest in someone, but he had never seen you before.

Your smile was bright and your eyes were soft. You wore a plain cream dress with a deep blue cloak around your shoulders. Your entire appearance was bare of any fancy embellishments or adornments, but the obvious goodness that seeped from your smile alone was enough to make Garroth think he had just met royalty.

“Garroth.” The head guard hadn’t even noticed the presence of his lord standing beside the woman. “This is Y/n,” Aphmau said once Garroth had peeled his attention from you. “She came in yesterday evening from Borobos.”

That’s why he didn’t recognize you. You were a very new addition to the village’s residents, though Garroth was sure you were just passing through. Even though his face was concealed by the helmet atop his head, he offered you a smile.

“Welcome, Lady Y/n.” He tilted his head forward in a bow and stepped to the side, allowing you and Aphmau to properly enter the jailhouse. “Please, come in. I won’t leave the two of you to stand outside in the cold.”

You thanked him, but Aphmau stayed behind. “I have to get going to Meteli,” she explained, tapping her fingers against the door frame. “I’ll be gone for a couple days, but I trust you to take care of the village.”

Aphmau gave Garroth a kind smile and he nodded. “Of course, my lady. It would be my honor to watch over the village in your absence.”

“Thank you so much. Oh, and Y/n wanted to get shown around a bit. I would do it, but.” Aphmau trailed off, vaguely motioning to herself and the direction of the ocean. “You know. I told her you’d be able to, but if you aren’t up for it then don’t feel obligated! I was just saying-“

“Nonsense, Lady Aphmau.” Garroth shook his head. “I can show her around.”

Aphmau exhaled in relief, pressing the palms of her hands together and bowing. “You’re an angel sent by Irene, I swear. Okay, well I have to get going. I’ll see you later.”

She gave Garroth one more smile before she was off. Garroth stayed at the door, watching her walk down the path until she passed a corner and he couldn’t see her.

Garroth turned and shut the door behind him. He found that you had already seated yourself across from Zenix and that you had already started a conversation with him. He also found that the basket you’d brought in had been opened and that Zenix had already helped himself to what looked to be a slice of sweet bread.

“Was the breakfast this morning not enough?” Garroth asked, the teasing smile on his face evident by his tone. He stepped closer to the table, crossing his arms and peering at Zenix through his helmet.

Zenix held a hand out defensively, his mouth full of the pastry. “She offered! And not to be rude, Sir Garroth, but this is infinitely better than the toast and eggs we have every morning.”

You laughed at Zenix’s jest, and Garroth turned his gaze to you. You seemed comfortable in this environment, which was a far cry from the way nearly everyone else felt when they found themselves in the jailhouse.

“I just thought I’d bring you guys food,” you said once your laughter had died. “In Borobos, the guardsmen aren’t very respected. It seems very different here from what Lady Aphmau told me, but I figured it would still be a nice thing to do.”

Garroth hummed. “Well we thank you. We are very grateful, although you really didn’t need to go out of your way for that.”

“We wouldn’t mind if you kept going out of your way for it, though,” Zenix cut in. Garroth reached over and smacked the boy’s shoulder in response.

You laughed again. “It’s alright. I really don’t mind. I actually really enjoy baking and cooking, so doing this isn’t a big deal.”

Garroth nodded. “We are thankful regardless. Now, since I’m sure he hasn’t introduced himself yet,”—Garroth placed a hand on Zenix’s shoulder—“this is Zenix. He’s my personal apprentice and soon to be second in command.”

Zenix offered a mock salute before stuffing the rest of the sweet bread in his hand into his mouth. He was quick to chew and swallow it, though his voice came out slightly hoarse when he talked. “A pleasure to meet you.”

You smiled. “And you as well. I’m Y/n.”

“Aphmau told me you wanted to see the village?” Garroth asked. You nodded, turning to meet his gaze. “I’ll show you around once you’re ready.”

“Thank you. Though, you aren’t going to eat anything?”

“Garroth’s a weirdo and doesn’t eat in front of people. Ever.” As if to avoid any scolding the head guard might have given him, Zenix jumped up from his seat and bounded toward the door. “I’m off on patrol!”

Garroth watched Zenix bound out the door and let out a heavy sigh once the boy was gone. “I apologize. He’s very . . . Energetic.”

“It’s alright,” you said, letting out an amused breath. “It’s a relief to me. Most everyone in Borobos was so uptight.”

Garroth hummed, eyeing the open basket on the table. “I don’t mean to come off as rude by not taking anything.”

You shook your head. “No, don’t worry about it. I’m sure you already ate. Besides, I feel like it would be weirder for me to force you to eat something I made.”

“I suppose it would be.” You stood from your seat, reaching to close the basket before readjusting your cloak over your shoulders. “Are you ready, then?”

You nodded with a hum. “Yes, I am.”

Garroth led you out the door. He walked by your side as he led you around the small village of Phoenix Drop. He introduced you to any villager you came across and spent the better half of the morning chatting with you and exchanging stories about yourselves.

For the first time in a long time, Garroth felt completely at ease.

—

Okay, Garroth thought to himself after he had walked you back to Donna’s brothel. That’s where you were staying for the time being. You bringing food to the jailhouse was simply a formality. A ‘thank you for welcoming me’ of sorts.

That’s what Garroth thought. That thought was dismissed, however, when you showed up the next morning with another basket of sweets. And again the morning after that. And the next and the next and . . .

Surely you must have taken a romantic interest in someone. Garroth had no clue who, as Brain was too young for you and you seemed to treat Zenix as a younger brother. Your interactions with Garroth were nothing but polite and he feared you didn’t find yourself to be comfortable around him, so it couldn’t have been him.

But then who? Garroth entertained for a moment that you might be after Laurance when the Head Guard of Meteli visited Phoenix Drop, but you hadn’t known him before that.

You must have just been a good soul, then. Similar to his Lady Aphmau but with less capability to change the world. After a while, Garroth confirmed that fact for himself when he noticed you volunteering to care for Levin while Aphmau was gone and help in any way you could to fix up the village.

It was refreshing to him that there were good people in the world. He’d seen the worst manipulative, conniving con men in O’Khasis. He grew up around them. He’d devised a plan to fake his death using the tactics they did. A false identity, a bit of magic and tricks. He even found himself thinking like them, occasionally, no matter how hard he tried erasing that part of himself.

In your company, though, he didn’t think he was all that bad. During the daily morning talks he figured that if someone as good, someone as kind as you could stand someone like him—if someone like him could make you smile and laugh the way you did—he must not have been so bad.

Despite the promise he had made to himself so long ago when he faked his death, Garroth found himself growing attached to you. More so than usual. He found himself growing attached to you in an odd way he had never experienced. It was different than how he cared for Zenix before he ran off. It was different than the unwavering loyalty he held for Lady Aphmau and his village. His attachment to you was . . . warm. It was something he chose, whether involuntarily or not, to hold. It couldn’t be boiled down to an obligation of duty like his relationship with Zenix or Aphmau or the village. He liked you.

Well, that was odd. Garroth had never liked anyone before.

What does one do in that situation?

—

The air was crisp. It felt fresh and clean despite the parasite that had found itself in Phoenix Drop to officiate a wedding. Zane Ro’Meave—High Priest of O’Khasis. The second son of O’Khasis, his predecessor being Gareth Ro’Meave. As it stood, Zane was set to inherit lordship when Garte died, since Gareth hadn’t been seen in five years. That, and Gareth’s body had been found drowned in the river surrounding the city years ago. Gareth Ro’Meave was dead as far as anyone knew.

Garroth stayed away from the High Priest as much as possible. He didn’t want to risk being recognized, but . . . Well, if he wanted to attend the wedding he couldn’t wear his helm. Without that, there was no doubt that he would be recognized. Garroth was the spitting image of his father.

He would figure it out. He would watch the merchant and his lover wed from afar if he had to. Even if it meant he couldn’t sit with you. Or talk to you. Or . . . do anything with you for the day.

He was thankful that you still visited the guard despite the business of everyone else. Garroth had opted to stay in his room on the jailhouse’s second floor for the day. It would be easier that way.

He was even more grateful that he was the only guard still in the jailhouse.

“I can’t believe Donna and Logan are getting married,” you said. You sat beside him on his bed, fidgeting with a necklace around your neck. One Garroth had gotten you (although he told you it was from the entire Phoenix Drop guard, as a thank you for always providing them with food and caring for them). “I remember when they first met. Irene, time really does fly, doesn’t it?”

Garroth agreed. Time really did go by quickly. It had been over five years since he’d last seen Zane. Over five years since he was Gareth Ro’Meave, golden heir of the O’Khasian throne. That fact struck him when he finally saw his brother, who was taller than he had been. Zane wasn’t quite as tall as Garroth, but he was getting there.

“It’s been a while since you came to Phoenix Drop,” he said, turning to face you. He still wore his helmet (he’d never let you see him without it) and you couldn’t see his face, but some part of you could imagine the soft smile that graced his features.

You nodded. “It has. I plan to stay here much longer, as well.”

When you smiled at him, Garroth swore the sun rays brightened and the birds started singing.

After a moment, you said, “So I won’t see you at the wedding tonight?”

Regretfully, Garroth shook his head. “No, you won’t. I’m sorry.”

You shook your head. “There’s nothing to be sorry for. If I’m being honest, the High Priest is being hypocritical about you not being able to wear your armor. I mean, his guards can but you can’t because then it’ll be considered a rich wedding?” You rolled your eyes, resting your weight against your arm. “I think it’s stupid.”

Garroth chuckled. He’d never heard you say anything remotely negative about anyone. “You’re not fond of the High Priest?”

You scoffed. “No. He visited Borobos a couple times and I always got a bad feeling from him.”

Garroth hummed. A comfortable silence enveloped the two of you. One that made Garroth feel warm.

“If I . . . were to come to the wedding,” Garroth began. His voice was muffled, more so than usual. He was mumbling, and you wished for a moment that he would take off his helm so you could read his lips. “Would you dance with me?”

You smiled in response to his question and softly nodded. “I’ll be sure to save a dance for you.”

The helmet suddenly became very hot. Garroth’s cheeks were burning despite the happy smile stretched across his lips. You really were beautiful.

“That’s only if I decide to come,” Garroth added.

“Of course. Regardless, I wouldn’t want to fill my dance card before you had the chance to add your name,” you teased, a playful smile pulling at your lips. Garroth knew it was a tease. Phoenix Drop wasn’t fancy enough for things like dance cards.

“I do hope you’ll come,” you said after a moment. Your voice was more sincere, and Garroth could’ve sworn you leaned closer to him ever so slightly. “But even if you don’t, I’ll be sure to come by before I turn in for the night.”

“You don’t have to,” Garroth said, although he was using every bit of his willpower to hide the anticipation from his voice.

“I will.” You smiled again. “I enjoy spending time with you.”

Garroth’s heart nearly jumped out of his chest. The two of you had been doing this for a while now. Leaving small hints of your ever growing feelings to each other. The hints were never obvious, and you both always interpreted them as friendly interaction, but Garroth always let himself believe for just a moment that you felt the same way he did.

“What does your dress look like?” he asked. He was curious. He wanted to create a mental image of what you might look like before he eventually saw you later that day.

Your expression brightened, and you sat straighter. “It’s gorgeous,” you said, and Garroth listened intently as you explained how your dress looked. Your description was vague, and you tried your best describing all the details you could, but you knew the description you gave wouldn’t do it justice.

Garroth knew it, too.

—

Cadenza truly did make beautiful dresses and suits. She had dropped one off for Garroth earlier (“Just in case,” she had said) and he had marveled at the craftsmanship of it. The seams seemed sturdy and the fabric was high quality. Stepping into the plaza and seeing the care Cadenza had put into each outfit astounded him. But in his opinion, there was one that outshined them all.

You were right. The dress Cadenza had made for you was beautiful. Though, Garroth may have had a bias towards it since you were the one wearing it. The sleeves were long and puffy and made of a sparkly, sheer material. Golden florals were embroidered on the cuffs and the neckline and hem of the dress. The skirt was long and any time you spun it would follow the flow of your body in an elegant circle.

Garroth hardly noticed that the deep midnight blue of your dress matched the color of his bow tie. He also failed to notice the matching embroidery on your dress and the lapels of his blazer. It seemed as though fashion wasn’t the only thing Cadenza had an eye for.

Garroth waited until you were alone to approach you. He finally did once you had seated yourself after a rather boisterous dance Dale had dragged you into. He could see the way your chest quickly rose and fell as you tried to catch your breath, and Garroth looked away.

You noticed him coming in your peripheral. When you looked at him it seemed as though the world had stopped just to give the two of you a second to revel in each other’s presence. A smile stretched across your lips, the one that Garroth loved. You perked up at the sight of him, and turned your body in the chair to face him better.

“You’re here,” you said. Garroth nodded.

“I thought it’d be fun.” You nodded, but your thoughts seemed to be elsewhere. You were focused on his face, a sight you had never seen. Despite that, you had instantly recognized him and the soft smile he gave you. It was one you had imagined many times. Seeing it was exhilarating.

“I believe I owe you a dance,” you said to him once the music had changed to a slower tune.

Garroth’s smile widened and he held his hand out. “May I, Lady Y/n.”

You chuckled and placed your hand in his. Irene, you were so giddy. “You may, Sir Garroth.”

You laughed again as Garroth pulled you up from your seat and led you to the dance floor, where other pairs had began gathering. Garroth wrapped his arms around you, holding you close. You felt safe and protected in his arms, and although the two of you were much closer than was appropriate for a couple that wasn’t together, no one batted an eye.

“You’re very handsome,” you told him after a moment you had spent admiring his features. And he truly was. His curly hair reflected the fairy lights and moonlight in a way that made it seem golden, and his eyes were probably the most beautiful thing you had ever seen. His cheekbones were defined and his lips looked so . . . kissable. You wanted to trace your thumb across every feature and commit it to memory, ready to recall whenever you needed the comfort of a familiar face.

“And you look radiant,” he replied, smiling down at you. And, Irene, his smile was just perfect. It was enough to make any girl fall in love.

You let out a soft breath of amusement, adjusting your arms around him so you could hold him impossibly closer. “You’re just saying that,” you whispered. You didn’t know what else to say.

“I’m not,” he instantly said. His voice was soft to match yours, though the more he talked the more you suspected his quiet tone was to hide his hesitation and nerves. “You are the most gorgeous girl I’ve ever seen. You’re the kind of woman men would fight a war for.”

Your face heated. You tried biting back a smile, but only failed miserably. “Would you go to war for me?”

“Without a doubt.”

You wished there weren’t so many people around so you could lean into Garroth and press your lips against his. You were sure that was the only correct reaction to have.

Garroth seemed the share the same thought, or at least a similar one. He leaned forward, his face red and his gaze nervous, to whisper in your ear. “I’d like to take you somewhere.”

He had stuttered over his words. You found it to be the most endearing thing. You looked up at him and nodded.

“After this song,” he said, snaking his arm further around you to hold you closer to him. His face was still red as a cherry and his breaths seemed out of focus, but you weren’t much better. Your heart felt like it would beat right out of your chest at any moment and you felt like you were in a daze with him.

It felt like the song from Zoey’s enchanted music box went on for hours after he said that. When it finally ended, Garroth reluctantly let go of you and you reluctantly let go of him. He kept his hand entwined with yours, though, and led you through the small crowd of people and away from the party.

You followed him to the woods. He didn’t lead you too deep, but just far enough so you were out of sight from peering eyes. Just far enough so he could have a truly private moment with you.

Once he stopped the two of you stood in silence for a moment. Your gazes went back and forth. He would spend a moment staring at you before he caught your gaze and looked away, and the same thing would happen to you. Those first few seconds were nothing more than fleeting glances until Garroth finally spoke.

“You really do look beautiful,” he whispered. Your warm smile made Garroth’s nervous gaze soften. He looked at you like you had hung the very stars in the sky.

“So you’ve said,” you replied. You risked it and took a step closer. Had you been in his room at the guard station, your movements closer to him could have been passed as you allowing yourself to slip towards him. Now, though, it was painfully obvious that it was a decision you consciously made.

“Well it’s true.” Garroth didn’t move close to you like you had to him, but his gaze did flit down to your feet. You took a chance and stepped closer again, and Garroth shifted forward.

“Is there something you wanted to say, Sir Garroth?” you asked, tilting your head up to him. You sometimes added the title sir to tease him. “Or did you bring me all the way here just to tell me again I’m pretty?”

Garroth’s cheeks pinkened and he let out a strained huff. “No, I . . .” He paused. You raised your eyebrows expectantly but didn’t say anything. You wanted to give him all the time he needed to collect his thoughts. “I’ve found myself wanting to be rather . . . spontaneous, recently.”

“Yes, you’ve brought me into the woods rather unexpectedly.” Your lips stretched into a soft smile and you chuckled. “Spontaneity isn’t bad. Sometimes the result can be good.”

“I fear I may ruin a friendship if I act on my impulses.” Garroth swallowed and quickly swiped his tongue over his lips. “And I would deeply regret it if this girl stopped talking to me because of what I’d do.”

“Oh, so it’s a girl you like?” You tried to keep your voice even and unfeeling, but the small heartbreak still made its way into your words. You felt your smile fade and you found yourself taking a small step away from him. You hadn’t anticipated for him to like you back—you had seen the way he interacted with Phoenix Drop’s lord—but some small part of you hoped that some of the signs you’d seen could be an indicator of romantic feelings toward you.

“Well,” you began after a brief pause. You paused again after the word left your mouth, though, thinking. Did you want to pretend for just a moment? Or would that only hurt you more? “Any girl would be lucky to have you,” you settled on.

Garroth hummed. You didn’t know if he’d noticed you step away from him, but he definitely took a step closer.

“Would you recommend I act on an impulse of mine?”

You nodded. You had seen the way Garroth acted around Aphmau, but you had also seen how Aphmau acted around Garroth. Even if you couldn’t have him the way you wanted, you were going to help him for his own sake.

Garroth took a breath. You were ready for him to thank you for your brief advice, but you hadn’t expected him to lean forward and press his lips against yours.

Although his kiss was soft, the action shocked you. You had stiffened for a moment, and Garroth had began pulling away to apologize, but you were quick to pull him back. Your hands reached up to wrap around his neck and rest on his chest so you could tug his lips back down to yours. You kissed him softly at first, but when your fingers threaded through his golden locks and you pressed your lips harder against his and he wrapped his arms around your waist, you couldn’t help the breathless sigh that escaped your lips when he pulled away for just a moment.

You were quick to reconnect your lips, and when you did Garroth lifted you off the ground and spun in a circle for the flow of your dress to follow. This was arguably the best thing he’d ever experienced.

When he pulled away it was just an inch. He kept his forehead pressed against yours and his eyes closed and the two of you shared the same air. There was a wide smile on your lips, and you were so happy you laughed.

You couldn’t remember what was said after that, but the warm and fuzzy feeling stayed in your heart for hours after the fact. Days, even. You carried it with you the next day and the day after and the day after that.

And when the two of you went back to the plaza, soft smiles on your faces and hands just barely brushing against each other, everyone knew something had changed.

—

Even though everyone in the village could see the shift in your relationship with Garroth, you tried to keep it private and pretend nothing was different. Stolen kisses in the guard tower before he went for patrol, brief brushes of hands against each other, fleeting glances to the other from down the path. You hadn’t even really officiated anything and your stomach flipped at every sight of him.

You still found yourself venturing to the guard tower every morning wirh a basket. You would often bring a little something for Laurance and Dante and Dale or whoever else was currently positioned, but Garroth was always the main focus of your attention. It had gotten to the point where Laurance and Dante could recognize you by the sound of your footsteps, and they always stepped aside and told you where Garroth was.

He was in his room more often than not. He had taken to removing his helmet around you and rarely wore it when you visited. You could see his pretty eyes that way, and you always smiled and told him that they were, and somewhere along the line the two of you would press your lips together and spend a couple minutes every day pretending you were the only people in the world.

“I’d like to court you,” he told you one day, though his voice was quiet and hesitant. You couldn’t tell if he was truly hesitating to say that, though, or if his muffled tone was from the fact that his lips were pressed against the junction of your jaw. He stopped for a moment, his soft breaths brushing against the shell of your ear. “I know we’ve been . . . close, recently, but we’ve never spoken about it. I’d like to do this properly.”

“Why don’t you, then?” you asked. You turned your head to meet his gaze when he pulled away, just enough to look you in the eyes. There was a soft smile on his face, like he couldn’t believe you weren’t denying him.

“Is that a yes?” His voice was hopeful, and you chuckled. How could he ever think you’d say no?

“Yes, Garroth,” you said, your tone light. “It is.”

You heard something of a smack against the frame of Garroth’s closed door. You turned your head, expecting someone to come in. No one did. You only heard the soft clinking of armor on the other side.

“Finally.” The voice was muffled and quiet through the wood, but you recognized it as Laurance’s.

“That was taking forever.” And that voice belonged to Dante. Your gaze flicked back to Garroth, finding that he was covering the lower half of his blushing face.

“You don’t even know. He’s been yapping about her since before you were even here.”

You hear their footsteps disappear down the hall as they walk away from Garroth’s room. You wait for a moment before bursting into a fit of giggles.

Garroth’s hand entwined wirh yours and the two of you spent a moment longer talking, though most of the conversation came in the form of lighthearted teasing from you. Garroth’s cheeks only turned more and more red with every word you spoke, until finally you had to let him go so he could complete his patrol.

You walked along the cobbled roads gappier that day, along with every other day that came. There was a spring in your step and you practically skipped everywhere you went.

You tried to keep it private. Tried to keep the yearning glances and kisses behind closed doors, but everyone knew it. Everyone could see the attachment their head guard had grown for the baking maiden in the village, and no one thought there was nothing more fitting than that.

i fear this piece gave me intense imposter syndrome??? for some reason??? idk i feel like i could’ve done way better and this piece is shit but alas. anyways anon i hope you enjoyed i wish i could’ve done better for you 🫡

TAGGING: @mellozhi @garrothswiferealnotfake if you’d like to be added to the mcd or garroth taglist comment or to let me know!!

[cloudyluun]

Like Hell You’d Tell Me No | PB fic

(tommyshelby x fem!reader – s2 era)

Summary: When Y/N gets sent to Birmingham for her own protection, the last thing she expects is to be dropped into the middle of Shelby territory, especially under the icy watch of one Thomas Shelby. But somehow, she keeps breaking his rules... and somehow, he lets her. Between unannounced office visits, drunken nights in his chair, and a new bestie in Ada Shelby, Y/N is stirring up more than just trouble. And when things start to heat up between her and Tommy, they might just find themselves caught in a moment that neither of them is quite ready for, yet.

A/N: okay so, I always write Harry (literally always), but while prepping for my internship I decided to finally watch Peaky Blinders... and now I’m unwell. Like, genuinely not okay. Tommy Shelby lives in my head rent-free and I can’t make him leave. 😭

So instead of lesson planning like a responsible adult, this little fic idea basically wrote itself at 1AM with Taylor Swift playing in the background lol. Not sure if I’ll continue this or if I’ll dabble in multiple fandoms, but I had fun writing it and wanted to share in case anyone else is also deep in their Peaky Blinders phase

Word Count: 4147

Warnings: 

Light drinking

Mentions of past threats/harassment (non-graphic)

Protective/possessive behavior (from Tommy, ofc)

Language (it’s Peaky Blinders, there’s swearing lol)

Slow-burn tension and emotional build-up

Mentions of minor violence (one punch, classic Tommy move)

Unresolved romantic tension (aka cliffhanger ending 😌)

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

Tommy just… stares.

The silence in the room stretched, thick as the smoke curling from his cigarette. Papers sat idle in front of him, ignored now. The man across the desk – some poor bastard talking percentages – had gone completely still, mouth half-open like he was about to continue his pitch until she appeared out of nowhere.

She leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, eyes scanning the room like she’d walked into a pub instead of the Shelby Company office. Young, maybe mid-twenties, wearing a travel-worn coat and scuffed boots. There was something in her look. Not arrogance. Just no fear. Like she'd met worse than a room full of Shelbys.

“Door was open,” she said again, tilting her head. “Didn’t think it was a problem.”

Arthur snorted behind her. “Bloody hell, she’s brave.”

Polly didn’t say a word, but the look on her face was a mix of amusement and caution. Always watching.

Tommy took a slow drag, tapped ash into the tray. “You must be Y/N.”

“Yeah,” she said, stepping in without being asked. “You must be Tommy, Thomas Shelby.”

“Bit early to be on first-name terms.”

“Bit late not to be,” she replied, dropping her bag by the wall like she belonged there. “You owe my brother a favor. I’m the favor.”

He didn’t like the sound of that. Not from her mouth. Not from anyone, really. But the message had come a few days ago, and he’d read it twice just to be sure. Michael Carter. They’d served together. Pulled him out of a trench once. Didn’t talk much after the war, but when a man like that writes and says his sister’s in trouble, you pay attention. You don’t say no.

“What kind of trouble?”

She shrugged. “The vague kind. London’s full of it. Wrong place, wrong time. Few names I shouldn’t have known, a few blokes who didn’t like me walking away.”

Tommy leaned back in his chair. “You running?”

“I’d call it more of a stroll,” she said. “Don’t worry. I didn’t bring much baggage.”

He looked at her. Really looked. She was tired but not broken. Something restless behind her eyes. There was a fight in her, the kind that either got people killed or made them dangerous friends. He wasn’t sure which yet.

“You’ll stay above the shop,” he said after a pause. “Spare room. Polly’ll take you up.”

Y/N glanced toward Polly, who gave a small nod.

Tommy picked up his pen again, glancing at the man across from him who’d gone completely pale. “Now, if we’re done with the interruptions–”

“I’ll get out of your hair,” she said, already walking off.

“Don’t wander.”

She turned in the doorway, gave a small smirk. “No promises.”

Polly followed her out a moment later, her heels sharp on the floorboards.

Arthur leaned in with a low whistle. “She’s got some fire, that one.”

Tommy didn’t answer. He was staring at the spot she’d been standing in. His jaw clenched as he exhaled smoke through his nose.

“She gonna be trouble?” Arthur asked.

“She already is,” Tommy said quietly, then went back to pretending to listen to the pitch in front of him.

--

Upstairs, Y/N was already sizing up the space. The spare room was clean enough. Not warm, but not cold either. Polly stood by the door, watching.

“You’re lucky,” Polly said finally. “He doesn’t like people in his office. Doesn’t like people full stop.”

Y/N looked around, then dropped onto the bed with a soft thump. “I’ll keep out of his way.” Polly gave a dry smile. “Let’s see how long that lasts.”

Downstairs, Tommy stubbed out his cigarette, but his hand hovered near the tin for another. He didn’t light it. Just sat there, staring at the door where she’d come in like a storm in worn boots and sharp words.

A favor owed, he thought. Just a favor.

But he already knew better.

The days that followed proved it. She didn’t just stay in the spare room. She moved through the betting shop like she’d always been there. Tommy had told himself he’d figure out what to do with her once things settled, once he had time. But time didn’t slow for the Shelbys. And she didn’t wait for permission.

“You know there’s a kettle in the back, right?” she asked one morning, walking into his office without knocking. Again. She set a chipped mug down on the desk like it was hers to do so. “You don’t have to drink your weight in whisky before noon.”

Tommy looked up slowly. “You bring tea to every man who gives you a place to sleep?”

“Only the grumpy ones,” she said, hands in the pockets of her skirt. “Which is lucky for you.”

He didn’t answer, just stared at the steam curling from the cup.

She lingered a second longer, then turned to leave. “Try not to scowl into it too hard. Might go bitter.”

That was the third time that week she’d barged in. Polly had stopped bothering to intervene. Arthur found it funny. John asked if she had a death wish.

Tommy just drank the tea.

It wasn’t that she was rude. She just didn’t care about the little rules. Rules like knocking before you enter a room that belongs to Thomas Shelby. Rules like not sitting in the man’s chair while drunk at the end of a long day.

Which she did.

It was Friday, the shop was quiet, and she had found the whisky in the cabinet behind the front desk. Arthur had offered her a glass earlier. She’d declined then. Hours later, she helped herself.

Tommy walked in to find her kicked back in his chair, legs tucked under her, nursing a glass. Her boots were off and resting on the floor beside her. She looked comfortable. Dangerous thing to be in his space.

“You’re in my chair,” he said.

She turned her head lazily. “Didn’t think you’d mind.”

He didn’t say anything. He looked at her for a moment, then walked to the other side of the room. Took off his coat, hung it up. Sat on the edge of the desk, lit a cigarette. The quiet filled the space between them.

“You always drink alone?” he asked finally.

“I wasn’t alone,” she said. “You came in.”

Arthur came by halfway through and nearly choked on his laughter. John followed, paused in the doorway, gave a long low whistle.

“She’s got some bloody nerve,” John said under his breath.

Tommy said nothing. Just exhaled a long stream of smoke and looked at the ceiling.

After a few minutes, she stood, wobbling just a bit, and set the glass down neatly on the desk.

“Thanks for not shouting,” she said. “It’s rare.”

He watched her as she walked out, barefoot, leaving the smell of whisky and some kind of sweet soap in her wake.

The door clicked shut.

Arthur leaned closer to Tommy after a beat. “You gonna let her get away with that?”

Tommy didn’t look at him. “She’s not doing any harm.”

John raised an eyebrow. “She was in your chair, brother.”

Tommy stubbed out his cigarette. “She’s not in it now.”

That was how it was. She floated in and out of the betting shop like smoke, slipping through the cracks no one else dared to touch. She was younger, yes. Full of jokes and sudden laughter. The kind that didn’t come from politeness but from deep inside, like she refused to let the world make her quiet.

He didn’t know what to make of her yet. But he noticed things. The way she talked to everyone. The way she read newspapers he hadn’t even opened yet. The way she knew how to patch a rip in her own coat with needle and thread without making a fuss. Like she’d done it a hundred times.

She didn’t belong here. Not really. But she was here. And the longer she stayed, the more it felt like a storm had rolled in and decided to settle.

He didn’t know what the hell he was going to do with her. But he knew sending her away wasn’t an option anymore. That thought sat in the back of his mind the night Arthur burst through his office door, out of breath and sweating.

“She’s at the Garrison,” he said. “Alone. Some bloke’s not takin’ the hint.”

Tommy didn’t say anything. He stood, grabbed his coat, and walked past Arthur without a word. His pace was calm, but his steps were hard. Each one louder than the last on the wooden stairs.

The Garrison wasn’t far, but it felt like miles. His hands curled into fists at his sides. Inside, the music was low and the laughter was higher than usual. A Friday night crowd. Voices blurred together until one stood out.

“Come on, sweetheart,” a man was saying. “Don’t be so bloody cold.”

Tommy moved through the crowd like smoke. He didn’t shove. Didn’t speak. Just walked until the man came into view. Broad-shouldered, older, drunk. Y/N was backed against the wall near the end of the bar, her arms crossed tight and chin lifted. She wasn’t scared, but she wasn’t laughing either.

“I said no,” she repeated, voice firm.

“And I said I don’t care,” the man replied, hand brushing against her arm again.

Tommy didn’t stop walking. The man didn’t see him coming. One second he was smirking, the next he was on the ground, nose caved in and blood gushing. No warning. No words.

The room went quiet.

Tommy didn’t look down. He turned to Y/N, who hadn’t moved. Her face had gone pale.

“Come on,” he said.

She followed him out into the street without arguing. The cold hit her hard, cutting through the whisky in her blood. They walked in silence for a few blocks, her footsteps uneven beside his. She hadn’t even grabbed her coat.

“You didn’t have to do that,” she said finally.

He didn’t look at her. “Yes. I did.”

She shoved her hands into her pockets. “I could’ve handled it.”

“I’m sure,” he said, voice flat. “But, he touched you.”

She stopped walking. He stopped too, turning to face her.

“I don’t need a fucking bodyguard, Tommy.”

“No,” he said. “You need someone to keep you alive. That’s me now.”

She stared at him, jaw tight, but her voice cracked when she spoke again. “I didn’t mean for that to happen.”

He looked at her. Really looked. Her cheeks were flushed, her hair wind-blown, and her eyes shining in that way they did when she was holding too much in. She was trying to be tough, but her hands were shaking.

He stepped closer, calm now. “You all right?”

She looked away. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not.”

“It wasn’t the first time someone got too close.”

Tommy’s jaw clenched. His fingers flexed at his sides. He didn’t say what he wanted to say. That London was behind her, but its shadows were still clinging. That he should’ve never let her walk out alone. That the second he got word she was in danger, his heart had pounded like it hadn’t since France.

Instead, he took a breath and said, “Next time you go out, you take someone with you.”

She rolled her eyes. “Arthur? Polly?”

“Me,” he said. “Preferably.”

The silence stretched between them, and something shifted in her face. Not fear. Not defiance. Just something quieter.

“Right,” she said. “Okay.”

He nodded once, then turned and kept walking. She followed.

The streets of Birmingham were dark, damp, full of half-spoken threats. But she walked beside him like it was the safest place she’d ever been.

The next morning, Y/N sat cross-legged on the floor of the spare room, trying to make sense of the mess she called her belongings. Half-unpacked bags, a few folded letters, and a pair of boots still caked in city grime. She was tugging a comb through her hair when there was a knock on the door. “Mind if I come in?” came a voice.

Y/N turned to see a woman leaning in the doorway, lipstick perfect, hair pinned up tight like she meant business even on a quiet day. She looked familiar in that way all the Shelbys did.

“Ada, right?” Y/N said.

“That’s me. Figured it was about time we had a proper chat,” Ada replied, stepping in without waiting. “They’ve all been talking about you.”

“Yeah?” Y/N raised an eyebrow. “Should I be worried?”

Ada grinned. “Only if you hate compliments wrapped in irritation.”

She handed over two cups of something that smelled strong enough to kick. Y/N took one with a grateful nod.

“Whiskey in the coffee?” Y/N asked.

“Bit of both. It’s the Shelby way.”

They sat near the window, legs stretched out, warmth settling into the space.

“You’re not like them,” Ada said after a moment. “Not from here. Not stuck in it like the rest of us.”

Y/N gave a little shrug. “London’s not exactly better.”

“No, but you’ve still got light in your eyes,” Ada said. “Most people around here have it beaten out of them by twenty.”

Y/N looked out the window. “I don’t know about light. I just don’t see the point in pretending everything’s always awful.”

Ada sipped from her cup. “That’s what I mean. You’re a bloody breath of fresh air. Especially among all these grumpy bastards.”

Y/N laughed. “Speak for yourself. You’re just as sharp.”

“I get it from my mother. And years of watching Tommy scowl at paperwork.”

At the mention of his name, Y/N glanced away, but Ada noticed. Of course she did.

“He’s different with you,” Ada said.

Y/N frowned. “Different how?”

Ada leaned in, smug. “Less growling. More… I don’t know. Breathing.”

“You’re making things up.”

“I’m not.” She pointed her cup at Y/N. “You’ve got him wrapped around your little finger, you know that?”

Y/N blinked, actually blinked, and then laughed into her drink. “Absolutely not.”

“Oh, come on,” Ada said. “He doesn’t even let me in his office unannounced.”

Y/N bit her lip. “Maybe he’s just tired of telling me off.”

“No. That’s not it.” Ada gave her a long look. “He trusts you.”

There was a weight in those words Y/N hadn’t expected. She didn’t answer right away. Trust wasn’t something she’d had a lot of lately. It felt strange to even think about.

“He walked me home last night,” Y/N said quietly. “After a man at the Garrison got pushy.”

Ada nodded. “I heard. Arthur said Tommy didn’t say a word. Just broke the bloke’s nose and left.”

Y/N stared down into her mug. “He didn’t even look angry. That’s what got me.”

Ada tilted her head. “That’s worse, you know. Means he meant it.”

Y/N smiled faintly. “I know it’s just a favor, what he’s doing. Letting me stay. Letting me be here.”

Ada stood and stretched. “It started out that way, but i believe it has turned into more. That’s why it matters.”

She walked toward the door, then turned. “You’re good for him. Whether he admits it or not.”

Y/N stayed by the window after she left. The coffee had gone cold, but she held it anyway, hands wrapped around something solid.

Out in the street, she caught sight of Tommy crossing to the shop, coat pulled close, face unreadable as ever.

She watched him for a second too long. Then she looked away, heart skipping in a way she pretended not to notice.

By the time evening came, the betting shop had been cleared out, lanterns strung up, and Polly’s birthday turned into one of those Shelby nights that started quiet and always ended with someone singing out of tune. Y/N wasn’t much of a drinker, but it was hard to say no when John poured heavy and Polly kept pressing glasses into her hand with a look that said she’d take offense otherwise.

She’d laughed too hard, danced once with Ada, twice with Arthur, and ended up slipping out when her head started to spin and the voices all blurred into one. The music still floated through the floorboards when she made her way up the stairs and pushed open the office door.

She didn’t even bother with the lights. The soft glow from the hallway was enough. She crossed the room like it was muscle memory now and dropped into the chair behind the desk. His chair. She tucked one leg under herself and took a slow sip from the bottle she’d brought up.

The first sip burned. The second didn’t.

She leaned back and closed her eyes for a second, listening to the muffled laughter below, the distant clink of glasses. The door creaked after a few minutes. She didn’t open her eyes.

“Told you I like your chair,” she said lazily.

Tommy stepped inside and shut the door behind him. “You’ve got a habit.”

“I’ve got nowhere else that’s quiet,” she replied.

He walked across the room and sat on the edge of the desk, facing her. No coat, sleeves rolled just enough to show the edge of his tattoo. His tie was loose. He looked like he’d stopped pretending to be the man everyone thought he had to be.

She glanced at him and smiled faintly. “Aren’t you supposed to be at the party?”

He shrugged. “They won’t miss me for a few minutes.”

She tilted the bottle toward him. “Want some?”

“I’ve had enough.”

“Then keep me company.”

So he did. They sat in the kind of silence that had weight but no pressure. She traced a line in the wood grain of the desk with her finger, then spoke, soft and unguarded.

“Do you ever feel like you don’t belong anywhere?”

He didn’t answer right away. His gaze stayed on her face.

“I used to think London was it,” she went on. “Then everything went to shit. I came here thinking it’d be worse. But now I just feel stuck in between.”

She looked down. “And I hate feeling like a guest. Like I’m just waiting for someone to tell me it’s time to go.”

“You’re not a guest,” Tommy said.

“Then what am I?”

He didn’t flinch, but he didn’t answer either.

She looked at him, really looked. The way his eyes softened in moments like this, when no one else was around to see. How still he went when he let his guard down. Like it scared him more than war ever had.

“You don’t talk much,” she said.

“I say what needs saying.”

“Right.” She took another sip. “But you listen.”

Their eyes met. Her thumb brushed the side of the glass, and his fingers reached out absently to take it from her. Their hands touched – just a second – but it was enough to make her chest tighten.

He set the bottle down without breaking the gaze. Neither moved.

“Why are you always so calm?” she whispered.

“I’m not.”

His voice was low. Closer now. She hadn’t noticed how near he’d leaned until she could feel the warmth of him, the faint scent of tobacco and something colder underneath.

Her fingers curled around the arm of the chair.

His hand was resting near hers on the desk. Not quite touching. But close.

Too close. Not close enough.

The silence pulled tight between them. She wasn’t sure who was holding it there, but it felt deliberate, like something balanced on the edge of a blade.

She didn’t move her hand.

Tommy shifted closer, the worn fabric of his sleeve brushing hers. Her breath caught. He didn’t look at her yet, not directly – his eyes stayed on the papers scattered across the desk like they meant something. Like any of this was still about business.

“Don’t smoke in here,” she said quietly, not looking at him either.

“I’m not.”

“You were earlier. Without me.”

He didn’t argue. Just leaned back the slightest bit, the corner of his mouth twitching like he might smile, but didn’t. His voice stayed low.

“You always this jumpy around men, or just me?”

She turned her head. Met his eyes. “You always this full of yourself, or just with women who talk back?”

There was a flicker in his expression, something like approval, maybe amusement. Maybe something sharper underneath.

“Maybe I like women who talk back.”

“Maybe you like trouble.”

His gaze dropped to her mouth for the briefest second. “I’m in the business of it.”

That pull in her gut tightened. Her fingers curled harder around the arm of the chair, grounding herself. It wasn’t enough.

The room had gone quiet again, except for the tick of the clock on the mantel and the soft hum of music and voices seeping in from the hallway. The party still spun on without them, but here it felt like everything had narrowed to the space between their hands.

She turned slightly, just enough that her knee brushed his. She didn’t apologize. Neither did he.

“Thomas.”

He lifted his eyes again. That look he gave her made her forget what she was about to say. Or maybe she hadn’t planned to say anything at all.

He leaned in. Slowly, like he wanted her to see it coming. His breath was warm against her cheek, and there was that scent again – tobacco, sharp gin, and something colder. Something metallic, like the edge of a coin.

The air between them thickened. She could feel her pulse in her throat, in her fingertips.

Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Is this the part where you kiss me, or tell me I’ve crossed a line?”

Tommy’s eyes darkened, his focus slipping to her lips, then back up. A slow smirk curved his mouth, not the cruel one he used in business, not the charming one he pulled out for show. This one was quieter. Closer to real.

He leaned in just a little more.

Then came the knock.

Three sharp raps on the doorframe.

“You two decent?”

Ada’s voice cut through the moment like a blade.

Y/N jerked back in her chair, heat rushing to her face as if she’d been caught doing something she hadn’t even done.

Tommy straightened slowly, not looking away from her. The smirk was gone. What replaced it was something harder to name. Something held tight behind his eyes.

“Yeah,” he called, not loud. “We’re decent.”

Ada poked her head in, grin wide, eyes darting between them. “Well, don’t let me interrupt whatever this was.”

“It was nothing,” Y/N said too quickly. She cleared her throat. “Just work.”

“Right.” Ada’s grin didn’t budge. “You’re missing the part where Finn tries to charm the Americans. It’s going about as well as you’d expect.”

Tommy gave a short nod. “We’ll be out soon.”

Ada raised a brow but didn’t push. “Suit yourselves.” She ducked out again.

The silence came back, heavier this time.

Y/N stood, smoothing her skirt like it might help her pretend nothing had happened. Nothing almost had.

Tommy watched her. Didn’t say anything at first.

She didn’t meet his eyes.

“I should–” she started.

“Go back to the party,” he said softly.

She looked at him then.

“We’ll finish this later.”

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

Thank you so much for reading, you’re a total angel! Don’t forget to like, comment, and reblog if you enjoyed! It means everything to me! 💖

[slasher-fxcker]

Hihi! I was wondering if you can do billy and stu and just the slashers reacting to their someone being hurt at their job and trying to hide it?

A/N: Okay I was going to do this request for multiple slashers, BUUUUUUT I started writing for Billy and Stu and got carried away. I love them too much

Billy & Stu Reacting to their S/O being injured at work.

Warnings: Swearing, mention of blood, brief mention of killing (but I mean this is the slasher fandom so kinda expected lol)

This blog is 18+, Minors do not interact

GIF by casualwriters

You hadn’t been working at the video store for too long but you loved it, your friend Randy had gotten you the job when they were desperate for staff. It was great for the boys too; Billy and Stu would stop by all the time using the place as their personal hang out much to your managers displeasure.

Every Saturday night the boys would swing by and pick some scary movies to watch together after you finished, unfortunately for them you were going to be stuck doing inventory tonight. As usual Billy wasn’t impressed about having to share your time with anyone other than Stu, “Just blow it off what are they going to do fire you?” you rolled your eyes as you continued getting ready. “Yes Billy, probably.”

Stu got up from his spot in front of the tv to try to pull you back to the couch, “Come on babe, do you really think you should be out at night? Don’t you know there’s a killer on the loose?” You try to supress your chuckle as he raises his eyebrows at you, his usual smirk on his face.

You fake innocence putting on your best fear filled voice, “Oh no, what will I do if Mr. Ghostface comes to get me.” Billy laughs one of his rare genuine laughs before Stu steps closer to you placing his hands on your waist, “I could think of a few things.” Smirking as he notices the way you flush at the suggestion. You lightly smack his chest as he laughs at himself once again before you press a chaste kiss to his lips. You grab your bag, blowing a quick kiss to Billy before heading to the door. “I’ll try to get back in time for movie night, but don’t wait up.”

Inventory was fairly boring, you tried to get it done as quickly as possible while Randy spent most of the night showing you his favourite scenes from various movies. Shoving another handful of popcorn into his mouth he continued his rant, “Come on how can you have lived your whole life without watching this movie? Quick you're gonna miss the best part!”

“Randy unlike you I’m actually trying to get this finished before midnight, now are you going to help me or not?” He sighs before finally getting off his ass and heading towards the storage room, 15 minutes go by and he still isn’t back to help. “I swear to god Randy if you're napping on the kart again I’m going to kill you.” You mutter to yourself as you head to the storage room.

You see Randy sitting on the kart going through a box of movies, you try to get a closer look before he sees you. You noticed the box of X rated movies he was looking at. “Randy you perv!” You didn’t realise you had snuck up on him before he jumped up knocking you into the shelves behind you both. Before you could move a box came off the shelf and fell onto you. Your head immediately pounded “Oh shit, Y/N!” Randy hurries to help you up, moving the various tapes that are scattered around to get you back out into the store, sitting up on the counter Randy starts looking over your head. “Oh shit, you're bleeding. Billy’s going to kill me.” You feel him practically prod at your forehead as you hiss in pain and slap his hand away. He helps you clean up the blood and tells you to go home, “Ill finish up here, it’s the least I can do.” You can see how sincere he is when he apologises. Your only worry is how you're going to explain this to the boys.

You decide to head straight home, hopefully the boys will think you just had to stay too late and will leave you be until tomorrow. That way you would at least have time to clean yourself up and come up with a story.

Looking in the mirror the damage is worse than you thought, the red tint on your forehead of smudged blood, the dried blood in your hairline and the bruising that was already beginning to show around the cut that could definitely not be concealed. You sighed as you wet a cloth in the bathroom sink raising it to your head gently, the pain immediately making you wince at the contact.

You raised your hand to try again when you heard something in your room, you looked out the doorway and saw what you could only assume was the boys sneaking in your window. You panicked and slammed the bathroom door closed locking it behind you. You hear the taller of the two call out to you as he knocks on the bathroom door. When you don’t answer he tries to open the door, “Whys the door locked babe?”

“Sorry Stu, I’m not feeling too well.” You try to sound convincing. This time its Billy that answers, “Come out here and tell us what’s wrong.” “Yeah we will look after you.” Stu giggles as you can clearly hear Billy push him away from the door. You feel bad hiding from them, “No its okay, you should probably go home in case I’m uh infectious or something. Yeah.” Your voice wavers and you know you aren’t convincing anyone.

Stu is quiet for once but you hear the edge in Billy’s voice as he speaks, “Y/N don’t lie to us, get out here.” You know they won’t leave, part of you wonders if it would be dramatic to climb out the window at this point. “Don’t make me break the door down.” You would’ve rolled your eyes but you knew he probably wasn’t kidding.

You slowly unlocked the door before slipping out of the bathroom, still not looking at either of them. You try to hide your face but of course they can see it, Stu is at your side immediately trying to make sure you're okay. He gently inspects the cut careful not to touch it. You try to ignore Billy’s stare but you can feel his eyes on you, looking at him for a second regret fills you when you meet his eyes. Billy might be a murderer but everything he does is so calm and thought out, never out of rage. You wouldn’t know that looking at him now, fists clenched at his side as his eyes narrow at you, gaze shifting between your eyes and the cut on your head.

Stu takes you to sit down on the bed, unsure of how to help you. He might be the most caring person when it comes to you but he’s also kinda hopeless. Billy’s gaze doesn’t leave you as you move around the room. Eventually after what felt like endless silence he walks towards you taking your chin in his hand and turning your face to look at the cut better. “Who did this to you?” Any other time Billy’s over protective tendencies would make you feel secure but seeing him like this, eyes dark and glazed over in anger didn’t bring you any comfort.

“No one did this to me.” He cut you off as his grip tightened slightly, “Don’t fucking lie to me. Who did this to you.” You don’t know what to say, you pull your chin out of his grip and sigh, “I was working with Randy and…” Stu seems to pull you closer protectively as Billy raises his voice again. “Randy did this to you?” Billy hated Randy already for so many reasons but this time Stu is the one to speak up, “That little fucker is going to pay,” he stood up and tried to walk away before you grabbed him, “No! I mean please just stay here with me,” you plead him as you pull him into a hug again, you know just how to stop this big softy from making a stupid decision like trying to kill Randy.

“He’s right. You think he gets to hurt you and get away with this.” Calming Billy down was going to be a harder task, “He didn’t hurt me Billy, we were taking inventory and it was an accident.” He scoffed, “He accidentally sliced your head open.” You walk towards Billy and take his face in your hands making him look at you once again, “It was an accident,” he tries to turn his head away but you bring him back to look at you, “And I’m fine now. I promise.”

You watch him as his eyes flicker from your eyes down to your lips, bringing himself closer to you. You reach up to place a kiss on his lips, slightly surprised when he begins to deepen it. His hands wrap around your waist as he starts walking you backwards towards the bed. You know where this is going and as the back of your knees hit the bed frame you break apart smiling up at him as you think you’ve won this one. He gently pushed you back onto Stu’s lap, the kind look gone from his face as he turns to Stu, “Keep her here til I get back.” Stu only seems to nod and Billy starts walking back towards the window, you suddenly realise what’s happening and frantically try to get out of Stu’s embrace.

“Billy no!” you practically yell at him, stopping him half way out the window, “Please Billy, don’t kill him.” He doesn’t respond as he sends you a bone chilling smirk and disappears out of your room.

[theunsinkableship1]

If You Know You Know

I don’t know how many times I’ll have to say this, it must be tiring for some, but I need to reiterate this CLEARLY to be properly understood:

I WILL NEVER SHIP THEM WITH ANYONE ELSE.

This makes absolutely no sense to me. The only reason I’m here is to support Luke and Nicola as a couple. I’ve never done anything like this before, and I won’t do it again after them. Hopefully, if they become an official couple, I’ll step away because my purpose will be fulfilled.

I joined this fandom because I saw something extraordinary between them, something I’ve never witnessed in my entire life. Their connection felt so unique and undeniable. Other relationships, real or supposed, simply don’t matter to me in this context. I initially believed people supported them because they, too, recognized the magic between them. But clearly, that’s not the case for everyone, which is disappointing.

To me, there’s no point in being part of the Lukola fandom if you don’t genuinely support both of them together. To be clear, I deeply admire and respect both actors, and I support their careers wholeheartedly. But that’s not why I’m here. I’m not here to support two talented actors, I’m here for their LOVE, for that incredible bond they share.

I’ve seen many relationships in my life, but nothing like this. Their dynamic is something rare, something worth rooting for.

To be a true shipper is to stand firm in your belief, to celebrate the connection you see and cherish without hiding behind the guise of "realism" or "pragmatism" to spread negativity. If you don’t believe in the ship, that’s fine, but then, why stay? Why participate only to criticize those who do have faith?

Truly shipping them isn’t about constant doubt or spreading cynicism; it’s about what you see and feel between the two people you root for. For those of us who support Lukola, our belief stems from the extraordinary connection we’ve witnessed between Luke and Nicola. It’s something that doesn’t come along every day.

It’s not about shipping every supposed relationship they might have, that approach dilutes the magic of what we see in them. Even if they confirm that they are indeed in those relationships, will I support those ones? Not really because I’ve seen many of those; if they love it, I like it .Their lives, their choices. Not every relationship needs to be shipped, and that’s okay. If Lukola isn’t your ship, then jump ship. No one is asking you to believe, but also, don’t bring your doubt and negativity into a space meant for those who trust and support this connection.

This space is for believers, for those who see and celebrate something extraordinary. If you can’t see it or choose not to, that’s fine, but don’t pollute the energy of those who do. We’re here for Luke and Nicola together, and our faith in them doesn’t need validation from those who don’t share it. Let us enjoy this space as it’s meant to be a celebration of love, connection, and the beauty of their bond.

It’s not about being delusional or not accepting the facts as reality. It’s about recognizing something profound, something rare that transcends other real or supposed connections. We don’t believe their bond is just platonic, just PR, or just friendship. If you still think that you need actively LISTEN and pay a closer look and EAR at what is publicly available. It goes beyond that. What we see is something that defies the boundaries of ordinary relationships.

This isn’t about diminishing the significance of other relationships they may have; it’s about acknowledging that what Luke and Nicola share is singular, a once in a lifetime kind of connection. It’s not something that can be replicated or overshadowed. It’s more.

This ship isn’t built on superficial observations or wishful thinking, it’s rooted in what they’ve shown us. It’s something you don’t see every day, and certainly not in every connection. It’s about believing in the rarity of what they have and celebrating it for the unique bond it is.

For those of us who believe, this feels more like something bigger, more meaningful, and more enduring than any fleeting moment.

This corner of the internet wasn’t created to be all things to all people, it was built with a clear and intentional purpose: to celebrate, believe in, and support the connection between Luke and Nicola. It’s a space rooted in trust, admiration, and the shared belief that what they have is rare and extraordinary.

If someone finds that they no longer resonate with that purpose, that’s okay. People grow, perspectives shift, and interests change. But the respectful and graceful thing to do is to quietly take your leave. Staying to criticize or sow negativity only detracts from the energy and intention of the space, which is to uplift and celebrate, not to argue or debate.

This community thrives on faith and positivity. It’s for those who still see the magic, who choose to believe, and who want to nurture a space filled with that same belief. If that’s no longer where your heart lies, it’s perfectly fine to move on, do the same if you think that we’re crazy, but let us continue to build on the foundation that brought them here.

"If you know, you know."This phrase perfectly encapsulates what it means to believe in something that isn’t always spelled out but is undeniably felt. Like the kind of connection that doesn’t need an announcement because it’s there, plain as day, for those who see it.

“If you know, you know" speaks to the undeniable energy and chemistry between Luke and Nicola. In their silence, because sometimes, what’s not said speaks louder than words.

For those who know, no explanation is necessary. For those who don’t, no explanation will ever be enough. That’s the beauty of it. Some things are felt, not proven, and if you know, you know.

[yvesssssssss]

Hello!! I’ve been reading your works for quite a time, and I noticed that you are caring the fandom on your back so here’s your crown 👑

anyways, can you please do a nagumo x f!reader where reader was an assassin but sustained a big injury that she can’t work anymore. Reader used to love being an assassin she took pride in her work ( she works with posion maybe?), but when she got injured she got depressed and cut off all her relationships with anything containing assassination, people from her past, etc. She decided to work for sakamoto (because let’s be real who doesn’t wanna be apart of their family?)

anyway, that’s all! You don’t have to if you don’t wanna! Please and thank you!

That’s really sweet of you, but I’m definitely not carrying anything, just adding to what everyone else is creating! Still, thank you so much for reading and supporting my work. It really means a lot!(⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠)

No longer lethal

The smell of miso and grilled fish wafted through the shop, mingling with the crisp scent of fresh vegetables and the occasional hint of gunpowder that clung to Nagumo’s coat. He leaned against the counter, watching you with a lazy smirk as you meticulously arranged the produce.

“Never thought I’d see you working retail, sweetheart.”

You didn’t look up. “Never thought I’d see you shopping for groceries.”

Nagumo laughed, the sound light and teasing. “Sakamoto’s got me on dinner duty.” He tapped the recipe card in his hand. “Figured I’d drop by and see an old friend while I was at it.”

The word ‘friend’ made something in your chest tighten. You weren’t sure if it was guilt or nostalgia.

It had been a year since you left the assassin world. A year since a mission had gone sideways, and a well-placed bullet had shattered your ribs, tearing through muscle and nerve in a way that even the best surgeons couldn’t fully repair. You had always prided yourself on your skill—subtlety, precision, the art of toxins slipping unnoticed into a drink or coating the edge of a blade. But now? Your hands trembled when you tried to do the delicate work. Your body didn’t respond the way it once did.

So you disappeared. Cut ties with the Order, with every connection to the life you once loved. You buried your knives, drowned your pride, and took a job at Sakamoto’s store because—what else was there to do?

You weren’t expecting Nagumo to come looking for you.

He picked up a tomato from the display, spinning it between his fingers before setting it down. “You really weren’t gonna call me, huh?”

You sighed. “Nagumo—”

“I mean, I get it,” he interrupted, smile never faltering, but his voice softer now. “You always hated being weak. And I bet you think if you let me back in, I’ll see you differently.”

You clenched your jaw. He always read you too well.

“But here’s the thing,” he continued, stepping closer. “I don’t care if you’re mixing poison or stocking shelves. You’re still you. And I still like you.”

Your fingers curled against the wooden counter. “It’s not that simple.”

He shrugged. “Maybe not. But that doesn’t mean I’m going anywhere.”

You finally looked at him, really looked. The sharp lines of his face, the ever-present mischief in his eyes, but beneath it—a sincerity that made your heart ache.

“…Dinner duty, huh?” you murmured, reaching for the recipe card in his hand. “You’re gonna burn the rice.”

Nagumo grinned. “That an offer to help?”

You exhaled, shaking your head. Maybe, just maybe, you didn’t have to cut everything from your past away.

“Just a warning.”

He clicked his tongue, leaning in slightly. “C’mon, don’t be like that. What if I trade you a secret?”

You arched a brow, crossing your arms. “Depends on the secret.”

Nagumo smirked, voice lowering like he was about to tell you the world’s greatest conspiracy. “Sakamoto’s been sneaking extra snacks behind his wife’s back. I’ve got photographic evidence.”

Despite yourself, you let out a small laugh. The first real one in a while. “That’s not much of a secret.”

“It is if you don’t want to get tackled by Aoi-san.”

You shook your head, feeling something ease in your chest. Maybe healing wasn’t about cutting yourself off. Maybe it was about letting the right people in.

“…Alright,” you said, grabbing a bag of rice from the shelf and tossing it at him. “Let’s make sure you don’t poison everyone first.”

Nagumo caught it effortlessly, grinning. “Now that’s the spirit.”

[fluentmoviequoter]

What I Didn't Know I Had

Requested Here!

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!pregnant!wife!reader

Summary: You get shot, and Tim nearly loses something he didn't know he had.

Warnings: angst, r is shot, fluffy comfort and soft Tim at the end

Word Count: 1.7k+ words

Masterlist | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

“I’ll catch up,” you tell Tim.

He nods once and tunes out Lucy as she walks beside him. The bullpen is crowded because of a busy day in Los Angeles, but you have something more important on your mind.

“Angela, can we talk?” you ask as you approach her desk.

“Of course,” she answers. “Is everything okay? Baby okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, we’re good.” You lay your hand over your not yet existent bump and smile. “I’m ready to tell Tim, but I want to surprise him with the pregnancy announcement. He’s not… conventional, right? So, I just wanted to ask if you had any ideas for how I can tell him, how I can make it special?”

“Not conventional is certainly a good description of Tim Bradford,” Angela agrees playfully. “Honestly, you know better than I do what he’d consider to be special. I think you should tell him sooner rather than later.”

You nod and look over your shoulder toward Tim. He deserves a memorable announcement; it’s his first child and he’s going to be an amazing father, so you want to make sure he knows that.

“Blue and pink target practice,” Angela suggests. “Nothing like a gun range jump scare.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

Wade yells your name, and you thank Angela before you return to the crowd of police officers. He says your name again before he adds, “Bradford, Nolan, and Chen, we’ve got a domestic call off Wilshire. Take care of that and get back here. ACH!”

“Anything can happen,” Lucy murmurs. “But it’s never fun.”

“ACHBINF,” Nolan agrees.

“Are you okay?” Tim asks as he falls into step beside you.

“Yeah, I’m good. Love this time of year when we have to send two cops to a call and two cops to protect the others,” you reply.

“Hey, what’s it like being married?” Lucy asks as you enter the garage.

“Depends on the marriage,” Nolan answers. “Why? Are you getting married?”

“Not today,” Lucy answers. “Just curious.”

“Nolan’s right,” Tim agrees. “It depends on the marriage.”

“I love being married,” you tell her. “But it’s nothing to rush into.”

“I just want to meet someone,” Lucy groans. “And you guys are no help.”

“Yeah, I married my partner,” you say, winking at Tim.

“And Nolan’s divorced,” Tim points out.

“Okay!” you announce. “Before this gets worse and turns into a competition of who has or had the better marriage – because it’s me and Tim – we need to go.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Lucy agrees. “ACHBINF.”

Tim grunts as he slams the car door, and you smile. As long as that isn’t his response to your pregnancy announcement, you’re amused by his grumpiness.

“There’s nobody here,” Tim says as he looks through a dirty window.

“This is the address. They said they were watching the argument from across the street,” you explain. “So, it’s either a setup or a prank.”

“Bradford!” Nolan calls as he moves out of the yard. “There’s a black SUV moving slowly toward us.”

“Tell dispatch, and get through to Grey,” Tim demands. “Stay down.”

You move with Tim, staying low as you move toward the shop. The black SUV is several houses away, but it only rolls a foot or so before it stops for thirty seconds, then moves again.

“Option 3, someone’s trying to steal a stick shift and can’t drive it,” you joke.

“It’s never that easy,” Tim replies.

“ACHBINF?” you ask.

“Don’t,” Tim murmurs as he watches the car. “We need to make contact before they get close enough to do something.”

“I can go through yards and come up behind them.”

“No, we don’t know what the back looks like. Nolan, where are you and Chen?”

“Behind the shop,” Nolan answers. “On the other side of the street from you.”

“Stay in position,” Tim radios.

A shot fires somewhere nearby, but it echoes so you can’t tell where it originated from.

“The car’s a distraction,” you and Tim say together.

“Backup is two minutes out,” Lucy calls over the radio. “We don’t have time!”

“I’m shooting at the SUV,” Tim tells you. “Cover me.”

You trade places with Tim and press your back to the shop as you cover him. Before you can alert Tim of movement beside the house you were called to, someone fires again. You feel the sting of the bullet against your vest but rise to your knees and return fire. Tim notices your movement and lowers beside you. When the shooter drops his gun and tips back, Tim rushes to him as Lucy and Nolan run to stop the black SUV. You lean back against the shop and run your hand over your uniform. It’s tinted red with blood when you pull it back, and you gently press your fingers against your side. The bullet missed your vest by less than an inch, and your first thought is that the bullet may have gone in sideways.

“No, no, no,” you whisper as you press your hands to your lower stomach.

With the pressure, your bleeding increases with nothing to stop it. Tim rounds the corner of the house with the shooter in handcuffs but pushes him to the ground when he sees you. You’re losing blood quickly, and Tim sees your hands in the wrong place, which immediately concerns him. If you didn’t tell him you were shot and are causing it to bleed more, you must be in shock or hemorrhaging.

“Nolan, get over here!” Tim radios.

He kneels beside you and presses his hands to your side as you try to force a hand under your vest.

“Get me an ambulance!” Tim demands. “Officer down!”

“Tim, I’m pregnant,” you blurt out. “You have to make sure the baby is okay.”

Tim shakes his head and tells you to stay calm. Nolan loads the shooter into the back of his shop and tells Tim the ambulance is approaching.

“Promise you’ll make sure the baby’s okay,” you repeat.

She doesn’t know what she’s talking about, Tim thinks. That thought only increases his worry because you’re losing blood and not making any sense.

“What happened?” the paramedic asks as he approaches your side.

“GSW to her side,” Tim replies.

Your eyes flutter closed as they wrap your side, and you don’t mention ‘the baby’ again. Tim asks the paramedic which hospital you are going to and follows your ambulance in his shop. As he drives, he wonders where the “I’m pregnant” announcement came from. It’s something he wants but hearing it because you were losing blood causes his hands to shake. He reminds himself to focus and control his emotions as he parks and runs into the emergency room entrance.

“Office Bradford?” a doctor asks.

“Yes, sir,” Tim responds as he stands. “How is she?”

“She’s perfectly fine. The bullet was through and through with very little tissue damage, so we cleaned and stitched the wound, and she’ll be free to go after some observation. And the baby is perfectly safe as well, Officer.”

“Baby?” Tim repeats. “She’s pregnant?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I assumed you knew. Yes, sir, she’s about seven weeks pregnant. You can go in if you’d like.”

“Thank you.”

The short walk to your room feels like a marathon, and Tim’s mind races with each step. You should have told Tim; you have a dangerous job, and he needs to know. Tim takes a deep breath before he opens the door and steps into your room.

“You really meant that,” he says.

You look up and tug your bottom lip between your teeth before you release it to speak. “Yeah, I did. I wanted to surprise you, and I was going to do it later today, but… you know.”

“You have to tell me this stuff,” Tim says gently. “I didn’t know. And I- if something had happened, I wouldn’t have known. I’m supposed to keep you safe, but I can’t do that if I don’t know.”

“I’m sorry,” you apologize. “Surprise?”

Tim rolls his eyes as he takes your hand. He lays your joined hands over your stomach, avoiding your stitches.

“I was terrified,” you whisper. “There wasn’t a way to tell where it went, and if I’d lost-“

Tim shushes you gently and sits on the edge of your bed. He moves a hand to your jaw and brushes his thumb over your cheek.

“I get it. The doctor told me the baby was fine, and it suddenly crashed down on me. That fear that I could’ve lost something I didn’t know I had hit me, even after I knew you were both okay.”

You nod and turn your chin. Tim kisses you softly, and you whisper another apology against his lips.

“What do you need?” he asks.

“A hug, mostly,” you say lightly.

“I was hoping you’d say you were ready to get out of here.”

“Oh, we’re both very ready to get out of here,” you agree.

Tim helps you get comfortable on the couch after you arrive home, and you twirl your wedding ring around your finger. He returns a moment later, and when you pull your knees up to give him room to sit beside you, he huffs. Carefully, he lifts your ankles and lays your legs back in your original, comfortable position. Tim lays with you rather than sitting beside you, and you happily turn into his arm. He drags his fingertips along your spine, over your shoulders, and back down. His other hand lays against your side, and he drops his hand to where your baby is growing.

“You’re getting soft,” you murmur.

“Just for you two. And we both need this,” he replies.

“I have an appointment next week, and I want you to be there.”

“I’ll be right here,” he promises. “Can’t trust you to tell me anything important,” he jokes.

You try to push him away, but Tim grabs your wrists and carefully pulls you with him as he rolls. He barely manages to catch both himself and you as he nearly falls off the couch.

“Surprise?” he asks, repeating your earlier comment.

He kisses you before you can say anything else, and when his hands wander to your stomach, you know that you were right about what a great father he will be.

[novashelby]

"My Beautiful Toy" -Arthur Shelby x OC

Pairing: Arthur Shelby x Maid!Reader

Warning: CNC(mentions the word rape-rape play), degradation, humiliation, dirty-degrading language, free use, cheating. Implied age Gap, but not an area of focus. Slight daddy kink. Breeding kink.

Word Count: 3,000

Summary: Arthur gets into a fight with Linda and who steps in? No other than his sex hungry maid with nasty-filthy kinks. How else to help a depressed man other than make yourself a free use sex toy?

I must admit, I truly believe this is the best smut I have written in a long time. Hopefully you will enjoy it. Remember, please leave a comment if you read. Likes are kind, but reblogs and comments help fellow fandom creators.

She was hired as a maid by Linda when the house became too much with a baby and Billy. Arthur being the baby, of course. For a few weeks, she spent her time doing the linens and cleaning all the nooks and crannies. At first, he ignored her as if he had tunnel vision. Never so much as a ‘hello’ left his lips. If anyone talked to her, it was typically his younger brother Tommy when he visited. 

Until Mr. and Mrs. Shelby got into a nasty argument. The young maid stayed in her bed quarters, listening in, but also minding herself. It wasn’t until Mrs. Shelby declared rather loudly that she was going to leave and then the front door slammed rather harshly. They were fighting about his obvious flaws; drinking, business, whores. What husband has the need for whores? She had wondered. Perhaps their sex life had taken a dive once Mrs. Shelby had given birth. She waited a few minutes before skipping down the hallway and looking in Billy’s room. As expected, Mrs. Shelby took the child with her. She went on and took a look into the master bedroom. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, shirtless and in his underwear. His elbows rested on his knees, his fingers combing through his hair. She watched as his cross hung down from his neck, swinging in circles. 

If she could guess, it was most certainly her own family issues that made him seem appealing to her. For the longest time, she assumed her head was as screwed as a nail in wood. Thinking about men like Arthur Shelby while her hand rested between her legs. She leaned on the wooden door frame that had plenty of knicks and scruffs. She assumed from his persistent drinking. The silence was broken by her knocking, “are you alright, Mr. Shelby? I’ll bring you some tea, water, anything you need-”

“No,” he said, a light whisper. “N-no, it’s fine. Go to bed-”

“But it’s my job,” she said. “It’s nonsense.” She pushed from the door frame and crossed over the threshold into his bedroom. She never so much as been alone with him. Never mind wearing nothing, but her nightie, no robe. His eyes slowly fluttered up, watching her body intensely. Arthur Shelby was a man of many weaknesses, including women. Especially so when influenced by his other weakness…alcohol. But she didn’t mind. Because she also had a weakness…the near for carnal validation. She joined him on the bed, and gave him a sympathetic look. Arthur side eyed her, wanting to resist her company, but also he didn’t have the energy to be alone. 

He nodded, swallowing a bit, “you’ve worked here for a while. Hardly know who you are-”

“You’re a busy man, I heard,” she said, staring at him for a long moment before breaking her neutral expression with a smile. Teasingly, she looked away and said, “with whores and rounds at the pub.”

“It’s funny to you-”

“A bit, yeah,” she interrupted, turning to him. His eyes were knitted, face reddening, clearly not happy by her banter. “I don’t understand what a married man needs with a whore. Unless….”

“Are you being smart?” Arthur stood to grab his trousers, looking over his shoulder at her. “Do you not have a job-”

“You won’t allow me to do my job, master,” she quipped, standing and walking over. His body froze as she ever so casually touched his shoulder. Sighing, he dropped his trousers and turned to her, taking a moment to skim over her silhouette. He couldn’t say no, he knew that. It would happen, if that is what she wanted. She repeated her question, “what does a married man need with a whore? Unless his wife has dropped all effort in the bedroom-”

“Watch yourself,” he warned, voice low as she moved in and they were chest to chest. “My wife is still my wife, and most importantly, your boss-”

“I don’t have a boss in this free world,” she said, hands pressed against his chest. Her nail dragged down, leaving lightly reddened streaks until it reached his waistband of his underwear. Her fingers hooked it. “Where work is endless, I am bound by no one. You could fire me right here, right now. It’d change nothing. I could work for another rich family tomorrow and seduce their husband-”

Arthur grabbed her hands and closed his eyes to combat the temptation as he started to bulge. “Go to bed.”

“I will go to bed and you will sleep on it,” she whispered, pulling away. Walking backwards, she watched him with a grin. “All I believe, Mr. Shelby, is that a good woman, whether she be one’s wife or not, always makes herself readily available for him. And I must say…men cheat on their women with me, but my men hardly cheat on me with other women….” As she reached the threshold, she smiled. “I bid you goodnight. I will have breakfast ready for you at eight.”

And with that, she left with a blown kiss in the air and a wink. Arthur stood there, lost in translation as to what just happened. For a split second, he was convinced he had some luck…women constantly at his beck and call. And this? A woman randomly available in his home, but he shook himself of those thoughts, feeling utterly pathetic. Arthur considered how he’d be if he could just be a normal man who could respect family values. Perhaps out of reactive emotions, but he made his way to his bedroom door and slammed it shut before grabbing the neck of the whiskey bottle. 

The next morning, he woke to clink and clatter coming from the kitchen. Climbing down the stairs, he stumbled himself through a hangover to the kitchen. At first he walked through the kitchen, aiming for the coffee. Then, he had to stop and think before looking at her. She’d been wearing the same night slip with no slippers and no robe. Seemingly innocent as she worked at peeling the potatoes. But with her back turned to him, he couldn’t spot the little smirk on her lips. He awarded her the twice-over look before making his way to the table, but couldn’t sit down. His eyes glanced over at her and he sighed to himself in defeat, longing for touch and company beyond a half-filled bottle. 

Arthur took long strides that felt like a long, tempting daze until his hands reached for her hips. Moving in, his chin rested on her shoulder and he whispered, “you said a woman should always be available for a man.” She continued to peel the potato while sinking into him, enjoying the sinful touches he laid upon her body. So soft, but so wrong-a sweetly evil mix that made her insides burn. Arthur closed his eyes and inhaled her scent, rubbing his nose on the inside of her neck and making his way to her ear. “And you like this? I’m not used to this, you understand?” She didn’t answer, playing coy…begging internally for him to just get it. Surely a man of his endeavors would understand what she wanted, right? Silently signaling to him, she perked her ass up on him, rubbing slightly against his hardening bulge. But not too much. He needed to initiate this. Arthur chuckled at her silent response. “And you see, I’m a man used to things falling so easily in my lap that approaching is hardly a problem, but with you,” he paused, his finger tickling down to the hem of her slip. His cold rings tingled at her skin. “In my kitchen. Wearing whatever the fuck this is. Hardly a night gown. Are you aware that I can see the outlines of your body?” While one hand bunched up her slip over her hip, the other pressed on her navel, pushing her harder against his arousal. There was a growing temptation between her legs. Her teeth bit at her bottom lip; anticipation and need welling up within her. It had been so long since she was able to express her darkest desires. But she wanted to be a complete free-use toy for him…. Allow him to initiate it all, to fulfill the desires he lacked with Linda. She finished peeling the first potato and grabbed the second as his right hand released from her stomach and ghosted over her right breast. “And you’d want this? To be of free use to me. No questions asked.”

She gave a sly, teasing shrug. 

“No, no.” He pinched her chin and turned her to look at him. Their eyes connected as his thumb rubbed at her bottom lip. “I need you to answer me.” 

A smirked tugged at the corner of her lips and she put down the potato neither of them would eat. “And if I said no? If I changed my mindset from the last twelve hours-”

“I don’t know if that’d have much of an effect on my decision,” he responded. His voice was low, slow, and taunting. As his words trailed on, his eyes landed on her lips in a trance. “I think your desires for being a sex slave are so deep that you don’t even know the meaning of yes or no-”

“You’d rape me?” she asked, playing into the fantasy. Pretending to be ‘oh, so scared’ of his proposal. That is when his hand held a heavy stronghold on her neck, lightly squeezing. Enough to take some of the air from her lungs, but like a good girl, she didn’t cry. But instead, awarded him with a moan. 

“I may be inclined. Who’d stop me, hm?” She breathed in his words, soaking them up. With each sentence, her brain dumbed for him; how she so easily melted at the degradation he gifted her with. And his hand around her throat was only a cherry on top of ice cream. “You and I are here all alone. And even if my brother were to come here? You think he’d stop me? Do you think you are worth saving?”

“I don’t like being worthy anything-”

“Good.” She was pushed around back into position. Both of her hands rested on the counter and pressed down on her back as he single handedly slipped his cock from his underwear. He’d been hard on and off for the better half of the last twelve hours. She exaggerated a small whimper, but it was met with a slap across her sensitive skin. Her ass burned with a mix of excitement and pain. “Free use is free use.” With a few strokes of his cock, he kicked her legs wider and lined it up at her entrance. “Meaning,” he paused, his hand now free to resume holding her neck while his other hand pulled down her nightie to massage her breasts. “I don’t want to fucking hear you. You’re not to to fucking talk, move, think…you’re to be an unlimited fuck hole for me.” He landed a soft kiss on her temple. “And if you are lucky, I may allow you to cum before I get bored of you…maybe by tomorrow or next week. If you are extra good for me, I may keep you much longer-”

“And if you get me pregnant?” She knew he had little to no intention to pull out. 

Arthur rolled her nipple between his fingers, making sure she felt his pinch through her whole body. “Then it’d be your fault, wouldn’t it? For your body loving my abuse so much it takes my cum.” At least he was kind enough to slowly push forward, his cock sliding within her folds. He allowed himself to let out a long throaty groan, but when she attempted to say a thing, he slipped two fingers in her mouth. His index and middle pressed down on her tongue, and slid far back enough to hit the gag reflex. “Make yourself useful…practice, eh? While daddy’s working, hm?” 

He buried himself deep within her, allowing her walls to adjust comfortably to his size. It was warm and comfortable, wet and tempting. So tight and wanting. While so deep within her, soaking in her tight walls, he contemplated on what could have made her so…nasty. But a good nasty. A nasty that healed the soul. Fuck, she was healing his soul. So good he wanted to show his brothers. Tell them they had to fuck this girl. Fuck her and watch how dumb she gets over cock….But what if she only got dumb over his cock? Linda was too smart for her own fucking good. He could just keep the maid here, making her into exactly what he wanted. A sex slave who thrived on his cum. He slowly moved out, tip bracing itself at the entrance. “What made you so fucked up?” he asked, removing his fingers, string of drool following. “Huh?”

“Never had a daddy teach me how to be good and respect myself,” she answered, chasing his fingers again, sucking them into her mouth. Her tongue swirled needily around his digits, before allowing them to hit the back of her throat. Fighting through the gag, she continually took them deep and seductively. Her fingers curled, nails scraping against the counter as he pulled a nipple. 

“Fuck,” he hissed at her words, slamming himself in until his balls slapped against her clit. The sudden feeling of pleasure made her eyes roll back, but she was so careful about making a sound without his permission. Instead, she sucked harder. Animalistically, he dragged his teeth along her soft flesh before growling lightly in her ear. “Then aren’t we perfect together, hm? I never had a proper daddy to tell me how to treat a woman. Comes into favor for free use sluts like you with no worth, huh?” She bit down lightly on his fingers to stop herself from whining, but her pussy was clenching, pulsating against him at his words. 

He smirked, knowing that his words alone could probably make her cum a flood in his kitchen. He started to rock his hips, groaning as pull slightly out just to push himself back in. Pussy was so tight that everytime he moved back, it almost sucked him back in just to say stay here, you deserve a permanent cockwarm. Her breathing got heavy as the pleasure slowly built and it was getting harder and harder to contain herself. Releasing her nipple, he pushed down on her back to arch her perfectly for him. “Your ass is the perfect view,” he gasped lightly, jutting his hips in a twitch before upping his pace beautifully. The rhythm was perfect; the way he was able to hit her g spot and roll his hips, matching each thrust with a groan. 

Linda never got that nasty. In fact, none of his whores were ever so willing to indulge his deep fantasies. He was going to use this girl until she was well spent and there was nothing left. The thought of her so drunk with his cum nearly sent him over the edge and he had to slow just lightly. “I will cum in you…fill you.” Once he caught his breath, he built up his pace again, matching his gasps and moans to each thrust. So deprived of sex…no, good sex that tangled around every fantasy, it was hard to keep his composure. His thrusts began to get jagged and sloppy as his balls tightened. “And you’ll fucking keep it there, won’t you?” he asked, voice heightened as he took his hand and slapped her ass. “Yea, you’ll keep it there all fucking day until I say otherwise.” He rested his whole body weight against her as his orgasm approached. “Fuck me,” he whispered, getting real close to her ear. “And m-maybe.” He nibbled and kissed her lobe while his hands squeezed her breasts. “Just fucking maybe if I feel ever so inclined, I may just use you all day. Every fuckin’ hour, fill your tight fucking cunt with my cum that you’re hardly even worthy of-”

“Fuck,” she moaned out, unprompted at his words, her rolling back. She slammed her hips back, which almost did him in.

“And maybe you’ll be so fucking full of my hot loads that your stomach bulges-”

“Is that possible?” she asked, feeling his chest heave against her. His orgasm just right at the edge ready to slip over.

“We will have to find out,” he said, cursing under his breath. Of course it wasn’t possible, but the pure filthy fantasy of it was so erotic he wanted to try. He peppered kisses at the corner of her lips, moaning as he found it harder and hard to stay stable. It was a wonder how he could even speak. “And you’ll keep it all in your cunt-”

“And if I drop a little-”

“That is what your pretty tongue is for, right? Gonna lick it right off the fuckin’ floor, eh? Has to go back in you one way or another- fuck!” He closed his eyes, speeding back up as his hands went back down to her hips and gripped, his fingers pressing hard. His orgasm that had been teetering on the edge, slowly fell and his body shook. For warmth, bliss, and stability, he held her close. His teeth bit at her shoulder, muffling a near scream. When it washed over him, he kept them like that, catching his breath and waiting for the clarity to set in. She felt his heartbeat against her back as they relaxed into one another. She tried to wiggle her pussy free of him, but he kept her still. “No. You stay.” She smiled to herself, feeling completely and full as she realized he wasn’t joking about wanting to own her. So, to make sure she was a complete whore for him, she clenched him, making sure to milk every drop. For that, he awarded her with a, “good girl” and a cheek kiss.

[prettygirl-gabi]

Title: Miss Me?

Rating: Mature Audiences

Warning: spicy, wlw smut, Jana being a munch, !top Jana, !bottom reader, oral (fem reseving), fingering (fem reseving)

Paring: Jana El Alfy x!non-athletic fem reader

Fandom: Women's basketball

Summary: sending Jana spicy pics while she's away is like playing with fire

Tag list: @sageworld

The sun peeked through the blinds, golden beams spilling over the small dorm room that had slowly become as much mine as it was Jana’s. Her side of the room was neat and minimalist, a stark contrast to my textbooks and scattered snacks that claimed the other half. It was early, too early for a college student who’d stayed up late working on an essay, but Jana's soft humming pulled me from my half-asleep state.

"You're up," I mumbled, voice thick with sleep. I rolled over, and there she was, tying her hair back into a ponytail. Even in a simple UConn hoodie and black leggings, she looked like she belonged in a magazine.

"Big day," she said with a smile, sitting on the edge of the bed to lace up her sneakers. "Away game. You forgot?"

I blinked, suddenly more awake. "No, I didn’t forget. I just hate when you’re gone."

Jana paused, her hands stilling. She looked at me with a softness that made my chest ache. "I hate it, too. But it’s only a few days, habibti."

"Few days too long," I muttered, sitting up. I watched as she moved to grab her duffle bag, and a thought struck me. "Do you have time to eat before you go? I can make something quick."

She shook her head. "I ate earlier. But come here," she said, her voice dipping into something softer.

I stood, padding over to her in my fuzzy socks, and she wrapped her arms around my waist, pulling me close. Her touch was warm, grounding. I rested my hands on her shoulders, looking up at her.

"I don’t know how you expect me to survive without you," I teased, but the words were half-serious.

Jana leaned down, pressing a kiss to my cheek, then my lips, lingering for a moment before pulling back. "You’ll be fine. You have classes, friends...and maybe I’ll leave you a hoodie so it’s like I’m still here."

"Not the same," I pouted, but my fake annoyance dissolved when she kissed me again, this time deeper. Her hands slid up my back, her touch firm but tender.

She pulled back just enough to murmur against my lips, "You’re so sweet, you know that? The way you taste, the way you talk. Everything about you."

Heat rushed to my face, and I swatted her shoulder. "Jana!"

She laughed, pulling me even closer. "What? I’m just telling the truth. You’re my sweet girl."

I buried my face in her shoulder to hide my embarrassment, but her laughter made me smile despite myself.

After a moment, she sighed, her grip on me loosening. "I really have to go."

I stepped back reluctantly, watching her grab her bag and sling it over her shoulder. At the door, she turned back, a small smile playing on her lips. "Stay out of trouble while I’m gone."

"Can’t promise that," I shot back with a grin.

Her laugh was the last thing I heard before the door clicked shut.

The next few days were as dull as I expected. Classes dragged, and without Jana around, even the smallest tasks felt like a chore. I tried to distract myself by studying and catching up on laundry, but every time I stepped into her dorm, the emptiness hit me all over again.

It wasn’t until the evening before her return that I had an idea—a way to remind her that I was thinking about her just as much as she was thinking about me.

After a quick shower, I stood in front of the foggy mirrors. Snapping a spicy pic. Jana always teased me about how shy I could be, but I was determined to surprise her.

"Okay," I whispered to myself. "Just a picture. It’s not that serious."

But my heart was racing as I grabbed my phone, angling it carefully to capture just enough without showing too much. The light hit just right, highlighting my skin and the delicate lace. Satisfied, I attached the photo to a text with a simple message:

"Miss me yet? 😉"

I hit send before I could second-guess myself, then immediately threw my phone onto the bed, pacing nervously.

When my phone buzzed a minute later, I practically lunged for it.

Jana: "Are you trying to kill me? 😳"

Me: "Just wanted to make sure you don’t forget about me."

Jana: "Forget you? Impossible. But now I really, really hate being away."

Her response made me smile, but before I could type a reply, my phone buzzed again.

Jana: "You’re in trouble when I get back, habibti."

I laughed, imagining the flush on her face as she typed the message.

Me: "Guess you’ll have to come home quick then."

Jana: "You’re so lucky I’m obsessed with you."

The rest of the night passed in a flurry of texts, her teasing and playful comments making the hours fly by. When I finally crawled into bed, her last message played over in my mind, warming me from the inside out:

"I’ll be home soon, sweet girl. Wait for me."

Jana's POV

I shift into the room carefully, peeling the blankets off her without waking her. She stirs, mumbling something incoherent, and I freeze. Once I’m sure she’s still asleep, I get to work, kissing the inside of her thighs and trailing upward.

“Mmm... Jana?” Her voice is groggy, but there’s a hint of amusement laced in her tone. “Morning, baby,” I mumble against her skin. “M'jana, what are you—” Her words cut off into a soft gasp as I slide her legs apart gently. “Just let me take care of you, I tols you I'd be home soon.” I whisper, already lost in her scent, her warmth.

She moans softly, and I swear, it’s the best sound in the world. I take my time, savoring every second, every taste, every reaction.

She tries to push my head away at one point, half-heartedly, but I grip her thighs firmly, holding her in place.

Devouring her, my grip around her thighs tighten as I submerge my face deeper into her pussy, my nose ever so slightly grazing against her swollen clit. Adding the middle and ring finger into her pussy pumping at a steady pace. “Oh my god,” her moans grow louder as her orgasm gets closer, my free hand reaches and presses down on her lower stomach.

She let's out a strangled cry out as a clear liquid shoots out of her pussy, her body convulsing as I continue and I help her ride out her orgasm.

"Did such a good job habibti, m'proud. Now lets get you all cleaned up." I say as I pick her up bridal style, taking her and sitting her on my bathroom counter, setting up the bath. "You're such a a loving girlfriend, I'll return the favor later." She says kissing my cheek. "No need, I'm all taken care of." I stated pulling my hoodie off her top, helping her in before sinking in behind her.

---

■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■

       -Thank You For Reading!🩵🩶

                             -prettygirl-gabi🎀✨️

[kinsey3furry300]

A fanfiction experiment: does not knowing which fandom you are reading make a good twist?

I love fanfiction.

But I also love suddenly discovering new things when reading a book. I like being surprised by shifts in tone, genre or style when reading. And the tagging and filtering systems used on AO3 and fanfiction dot net are so very good at letting you know exactly what you’re getting before you start reading, that it’s almost imposable to get pleasantly surprised like that. It's a great system for avoinding stuff that mught be triggering or just not your jam, or for finding what you like, but I miss the suprise sometimes.

So, as an experiment, I’m going to post the following Poll, and a short fic underneath the “keep reading” with nothing in the tags to let you know which fictional world this is set in. This is fanfic, but you won’t know which fandom until you start reading.

Does working it out in real time what fandom you’re in make for a fun twist?

CW for swearing and one obloquie reference to what might be offscreen sex.

Tagging a bunch of my mutuals that I think are involved in fanworks from several different fandoms to see if they enjoy the twist or if this is dumb. Sorry. Feel free to share for a wider audience.

@rain-droplet @zarohk @myheartisbro-ken @thejakeformerlyknownasprince @moonlight-fox @jewishpangolin @sarifel-corrisafid-ilxhel @abigfuzzybear @sillycourtjester @nazguldivorce @natalieironside @eom-02 @flamingswordofdoom @ghost-avian @thisfuckingdork @nice-is-neat @gaykarstaagforever @noeudspapillons @kabukiaku @bunjywunjy Edit: Also than you to the user who pointed out the rather embarrassing spelling error that both me and my beta missed. Once again the dyslexia is gunning for me.

Unpaved road. Barbed wire fence. Montana cattle country, high summer. Car.

The man in the grey suit stood in the road looking at the open hood of the car, forlorn. He took out his phone for the third time and checked. No signal. His expression did not change at this.

Upon hearing hoofbeats, he stepped over and looked, shielding his eyes from the beating sun with both hands.

“Can I help you?” asked the woman on horseback from the other side of the fence. Early or Mid 20s, black, handsome. Blue jeans, Gillingham shirt, scuffed work boots, straw cowboy hat. Faint California accent.  Rifle slung over back, old military surplus canteen dangling from the pommel of the saddle.

“Umm, yeah.” Said the man. No accent. East coast, maybe. “My rental has died on me. Do you have a phone?”

“No signal.” Said the woman, sliding off the horse and resting one foot on the barbed wire, before vaulting over, one hand on her shoulder to stop the rife swinging. “I keep a satellite phone in my truck, but that’s over the far side of the ranch. Here.” She said, tying the reigns to the fence. “I’ll take a look. What seems to be the problem?”

The man looked nervously from the rifle to the car for a moment. “Honestly? Dammed if I know. Darn thing just died on me. You out hunting?” He asked. The woman snorted.

“No, I don’t approve of hunting for sport, and I don’t eat meat anymore. I carry this for defence. Coyotes, more than people. I’ve got foals in the far paddock, and that attracts predators.”

“So you shoot them?” the man asked, sounding surprised. The woman shook her head.”

“I don’t plan to.” She said, moving to the car and resting the gun against the front bumper. The man moved out of the way and down the road a speck, giving her some room to work. “Usually I go for organic controls, this is just for last ditch emergencies.”

“Organic controls?” said the man, confused. He patted down his pockets, then pulled out a packet of cigarettes. He then took off his suit jacket, a remarkably human gesture in that heat. “What’s that?”

“Oh, coyotes and wolves are territorial. You get a large wolf to mark the edges of your land, and the rest of them generally stay away. Doesn’t work on bears, but bears are more likely to spook a horse foraging than actually hunt one. They need to be run-off, but they generally move when a large stallion charges them. We don’t get many grizzlies here, and the black bears wont normally bother a full grown horse.”

The man snorted. “You have a tame wolf, like, a pet? Just to piss on the fenceposts?” the women laughed. “No, that would be ridiculous. You can order pellets online. Wool soaked in wolf urine, wolf or tiger dung pellets, scares off the Coyotes or Cougars. Fresher is better, but thankfully I know someone at a zoo, they sort me out.” She said, looking over the engine.

“Ah? So this is your land then, I take it?” he said, moving to stand in the road, directly behind her, five paces back. Where she couldn't see.

“Yep. Nearly a thousand hectares, half horse ranch, half re-wilding program, down by the national forest. I’m partnered with fish and game. We’re reintroducing bevers next spiring, and I’m very exited about it.” She said, frowning. It honestly didn’t look like there was anything wrong with the car at all.

“Ah. Nice place. Said the man, putting an unlit cigarette to his lips. “A little hard to find.” He added, lighting up with a smile.

The woman paused. She, and there was no other word for this, twisted. Not like she was moving, but like something had suddenly gone very wrong with her spine, just for a second. Then it was over, and she calmly put one hand on the gun.

The man smiled. “Organic controls, so I see. You know, for a moment I thought I had the wrong person, but when faced with a clear threat, you reached for the gun second.”

“There are snipers.” She said, calmly. “You should know I’m being watched by the government, so if you try any crazy fanboy bullcrap-”

“Private first class Macerson and Lance-corporal Evens, USMC scout snipers, seconded out a military unit that doesn’t officially exist, yes, we knew you’d spotted them. You took the time to wait until they were replaced with the night shift, Cooper and Mackie, and then drove into town and went straight to the same bar they always hit up when they’re off duty. I presume you’d been trailing them for some time? Honestly, just confronting them would have spooked them enough, did you really need to pretend you didn’t know who they were and hook up with Evens? The poor boy is quite stricken with guilt, so I’m told. You didn’t have to twist the knife. They watch you, and we watch them. Something in Latin, ect ect. ” Said the man. He offered the cigarette to the woman, who was now standing there facing him, fists balled by her side, looking furious.

“You’re government.” She said. It was not a question.

“Yes.” Said the man smiling sweetly thought the smoke. Menthol, she noticed.  “But not yours. Although I am here with their permission.” He took a long drag.  “You know, I’m not joking when I said you were hard to find. Honestly? I thought the bird would have been the hardest to contact, but Fish and Game have an entire team dedicated to tracking his movements. I was as close to him as I am to you, if you’re wondering. He was about there” he said, pointing to the road “Pecking at roadkill. Not chatty. Marco now, Marco has a fucking press-agent and to be honest, you can mostly find him by heading to the right nightclubs and aiming for the mirrors, and poor, poor Jake, well… if you have the right security clearance, you can not only find him but make him call you ‘sir’. This spot, this spot now… properly of the radar. I had to pull a lot of strings at the state department to even find out about this place.”

“Good for you. Fuck off. I’m not interested.” She said moving to the fence and untying her horse. “I’m over it, and even if I wasn’t I don’t take kindly to strangers coming over and-”

“We’ve met before.” He said, calmly. “Back in the war.”

She hesitated “I- I don’t recall.”

The man laughed. “Well, I did look quite different then. Hork-Bajir host. You ripped my throat out. Worst thing was, I was already in the Yeerk Peace Movement at the time, just had the bad luck to draw guard duty right before the famed ‘Andalite bandits’ raided. Got off lucky, all things considered: Rachel was crushing heads that day. We need you, Cassie, the peace movement.”

“And? We’re at peace, more or less.”

“More.” The man said, sighing, “Or less. The empire is collapsing, Cassie. You’re out of the loop but I imagine you still follow the news. Balkanizing, infighting, the remnants re-militarizing, and there are some very nasty rumours starting to appear form the far edges of the empire about gods-knows what. Members of the peace movement like myself who spent years working our way up the government to key positions now find there’s hardly a government left anymore, and those of us who made allies in the Andalite and human governments, and those of us who keep in touch with the Notlith community have started to disappear, right here on earth. It… it’s falling apart.”

The young woman sighed. “It always does. What’s it to do with me.”

The man looked upset. “You founded the peace movement, we had hoped-”

“You’re not going to find peace by pulling me, specifically, into another war. What do you want? Spit it out.”

The man narrowed his eyes, took a deep pull on the menthol, glaring at her through smoke, and then continued.

“Some of the Yeerk Nothlit community here on earth have, ah, some regrets about choosing to Nothlit themselves. Their dissatisfaction makes them prime recruiting material for yeerk nationalists who want to re-build the empire, some of them are working with organized crime in Brazil… and there is a rumour that Andalite medics have found a method to cure Nothlit syndrome. Worse, the rumours are true: having looked over their findings from my contacts in the Andalite military, it looks like they are either there, or very close to it. You see the implication?”

She sighed. “Thousands of angry Yeerks who want to re-build the empire running amok in the amazon? Yes I can see the problem. Why is it my problem though? What do you want me to do? Go and make a PR appearance advocating the merits of staying a snake? Wiggle a dead rat around for them so it still looks alive?”

“No. Our initial plan was to just assassinate the Andalite scientists that were working on the cure, oh, don’t give us that look. The Andalite military refused to look the other way, so the best we could manage was to get them to evoke Seerow’s Kindness and not share the cure with us Yeerks.”

“I sense a but coming.”

“But, someone sneaked a copy of the research notes out, via the Skrit Na, and they made their way to earth. The Yeerk Peace movement and the governments of the Unites States and Brazil agreed that on the balance of probability this was a bad thing, and we sent a team into to recover or destroy the data.”

“I’m not doing it. Not getting involved. If some yeerks want to un-Nothlit themselves, that’s their choice.”

"Oh, no… we’ve already destroyed the data, we believe, the mission was a success. That’s not the problem.”

“So what is?”

“The team didn’t make it out.  We need someone morph-capable to go into the amazon on a search and recue-”

“Fuck off.” she said, re-mounting the horse.

The man sighed. “I could have gone to Jake, I have the authority to just order him to do it. I could have tried to leverage Tobias, he has… personal stakes in this, but I think he’s too far gone for this. I could even just appeal to Marco’s ego, or request the Andalite military sends a war-prince and some special forces. This is time sensitive, so do you know why I’m wasting time with you?”

“I’m sure you’ll tell me.” She said.

“Jake, the Andalites, the US government, all told me the same thing: it’s not worth it. The probability of getting them out alive is too low. We’d lose more people trying to pull them out than we’d save, plus the collateral casualties… They all looked at the maths, and decided it wasn’t viable. I need someone who doesn’t look at the maths. Someone who cares about the lost lives… someone who will feel bad if this goes wrong, and hold back as a result. We have a Chee contact in place to run intel and support the op, we have a backup team, but what we don’t have is anyone I’d trust to do it right. Someone is killing our people, ma’am. The Nothlit yeerks that refuse to join the New Empire, and no doubt killing a lot of innocent anacondas in the process.  They’re dying. And I need some who is sane, functional, and cares if that stops or not. You’ll be compensated for your time: 2 million, donated to the wildlife charities of your choice, we already know your usual ones-”

“No.” said the woman, wrestling the horse around to leave.

The man pulled out a Dracon beam. The woman cussed and reached for her rifle.

He turned, and quite calmly used the weapon to burn a number onto the nearest fencepost.

“Modulated beam, the latest tech.” he said. “My phone number. I’d try my business card, but I imagine you’d rip it up dramatically. Call anytime.” He said, dropping the hood and climbing into the car. It started first time.

“Why in the hell would I call you?” she yelled.

“Because tonight, when you’re done running around on all fours marking fence-posts or seducing your minders or whatever you do on a weeknight, you’ll wonder just how many people will die if you don’t.” The man said, calmy, driving away. *****

Cassie lay in bed looking at the ceiling for a long time.

“Fuck.” She said, after some time.

There was a noise. Coyotes. You couldn’t blame them, for being killers. It was just what they did.

They didn’t choose to kill others.

She sighed, walked to the window of the ranch-house, and focused for a second, morphing her vocal cords. It took barely ten seconds.

She slid the screen off her open window, stuck her head out, and howled.  The Coyotes got the message, and left.

There. She didn’t have to shoot them, sometimes you could just scare them off, so long as they knew who the top-dog in this neighbourhood was.

Sometime the threat of force worked better than force itself. Sometimes you needed a nuanced touch to your violence, if you wanted to spare lives.

She sighed, and ran her fingers through her short buzzed hair. 

“Shit.” She said, eventually.

Cussing the whole way, she stomped downstairs to the house phone. She did not own a cell phone. No point. This was one of the last spots in the lower 48 with no cell signal of any kind. Every time they tried to build a tower here, an increasingly ludicrous succession of rare birds would be seen trying to nest on the exact spot they had picked. Never a pair, but always a single highly endagered bird trying it’s damnedest to build a nest. Eventually the government had got the fucking hint and intervened with AT&T on her behalf.

Hating herself, she picked up the phone.

He answered on the second ring.

“How many lives?” was all she asked.

“At least eighteen, more if it goes badly. Three morph-capable humans and one morph-capable Hork-Bajir, four yeerks, ten regular humans who just got caught up in this mess.  They’ve been gone 24 hours, so we’re looking at Kandrona starvation soon, if they’re not executed first.

“I… morph capable controllers?!” she said, surprised.

He laughed. “Not every Yeerk on earth took your offer to become a Nothlit, Cassie. The US government captured some portable Kandrona’s during the war. You’re smart, and attuned to social issues: if the US military wanted morphing special forces, did you not think the CIA would want the ability to finally puppet someone after years of Manchurian candidate MK Ultra bullshit? Sadly, some Yeerks just switched one empire for another. Plus, Jake’s toy-soldiers only have so many hours of training per day: if they spend all their time running around with guns and practicing morphing, that’s no time to learn languages or technical data. Four Operatives, each with a Yeerk co-pilot to round-out their skillset. All volunteers from the yeerk peace movement: went in to try and stop the killing of Nothlits and the un-Nothlit-ing the radicals. Captured. Human organized criminals aiding the Yeerk Ultra-nationalists. Voluntary controllers, Narco’s with Dracons and an axe to grind, and a bunch of very pissed-off snakes. Absolutely the worst-case scenario.”

“Fuck. Location?”

“Brazilian-Venezuelan boarder. We have a bug fighter on standby. We can get you to the approximate location to meet your team in…. seventeen minuets.”

She digested this information, drumming her fingers on the phone.

“Is this a trap?” she asked, finally.

“Certainly. But not one I’ve laid, or it would be better fucking organised. They are suspecting we’ll send someone in, they are not suspecting you, or a Chee. That gives us some hope.”

“Okay, and one more thing before I decide: You said you thought you could get Tobais involved, but he was too far gone. Personal stakes, you said. What did you mean by that?"

Pause. Crackling phone static.

“The Morph capable Hork-Bajir is Rak Hamee, Jara and Ket’s son. Younger brother of US congresswoman Toby Hamee, and they are being held hostage by Yeerk nationalists to try and leverage us into giving them the Nothlit cure.”

“Fuck.” Said Cassie. “Land the Bug in the south paddock. I don’t want you spooking the horses.”

[queenofmoons67]

Knight and Prince

Fandom: Legend of Zelda, Linked Universe

Summary: Warriors takes a blow meant for Legend.

Word Count: 2551

Tags: protective Warriors, hurt Warriors, angsty Legend, siblings Fable and Legend

WARNINGS: blood, injury care

Written for @legendoflinkficfight Thanks to @cinis0, @A-walnut, and @not-freyja for the prompts!

<fic start>

It’s a cold day when the Chain says goodbye to Fable and Hyrule Castle. Warriors wraps his scarf tighter around his neck, then dips his face to hide a smile in the fabric when Fable bodyslams Legend with a hug.

“Zelda,” Legend complains, but she just laughs, and Warriors swears she hugs him tighter.

“I’ll miss you, Linky,” she whispers. The captain stiffens and turns away. He’s close enough to them that he caught the words, but they aren’t for him. “Don’t take so long coming home next time, okay?”

“I won’t, I won’t,” Legend grouses. His words are loud enough for Warriors to hear easily, and he glances back in time to see the vet finish prying his sister’s arms away. “Don’t you have to be all royal?”

“And not get a hug from my baby brother?” she teases. “Royal decorum can wait.”

“We’re twins,” Legend says flatly.

Huffing a laugh, Warriors turns away again to run his gaze over the courtyard. He’s met a lot of royalty in his time, from his own Zelda and visitors during the War of Ages to past and future Zeldas during his current adventure, and if he knows anything about them, it’s that most know exactly where to shove royal decorum when it suits them—not that he would phrase it like that to their faces. Royalty has the privilege of not always being decorous, but the people who serve them—people like Warriors himself—don’t have the same privilege.

Not that all of his brothers have the same experience, he thinks wryly. Tetra is Wind’s captain, but also a fellow pirate; Dot is Four’s best friend; Wild and Flora have told decorum to never grace their presence again.

There have been occasions when Warriors and Artemis relaxed together. Mostly after the War, when they were alone and away from prying eyes—but those moments didn’t come often. Not when there was so much to do for Hyrule.

So here, in this courtyard surrounded by soldiers and nobles, Warriors falls back on what he knows. His eyes trace the walls, noting the timing of the guards, and his ears listen for the wooden thud of spears crossing to prevent people from entering the yard. All the while, he stands with his feet apart, shoulders straight, and arms behind his back—the picture of a soldier ready for action—and he keeps within leaping distance of his liege in case of attack.

Technically, Warriors has only sworn an oath to Artemis, and she isn’t here. Sky will one day be king, but no one in this time period except the Links themselves know this.

Until this visit to Fable, Warriors thought the only liege he had was the individual Zeldas. Then she greeted Legend, not just like a brother, but as a brother.

Prince Legend, Warriors thinks, and holds back a snort. It sounds ridiculous. To him, Legend is the person who has cursed and sworn at every moment, who mocks Hylia and Links alike. Legend, like the rest of the Chain, is a person who Warriors has come to see as a sibling. To hear he’s a prince…

Warriors shakes himself and looks back. Fable has finally stepped away, giving Legend space, and nods at the small bow he gives her—the perfect length from a prince to his crown princess. 

So Legend does know decorum, Warriors thinks at the exact moment a glaring light hits his eye.

Everything else is instinct.

<line break>

Legend hits the ground, and the breath crushes out of him. Spitting curses in his head because he’s too busy wheezing for air aloud, he tries to get his arms under him, but there’s a heavy weight sprawled across his back. Legend is stuck on his stomach. His toes dig into the dirt behind him and his elbows jab into his own sides.

His cheek burns like someone took sandpaper to it, and when he finally gets his breath back and spits, it comes out bloody.

“Legend!” Someone is yelling.

“Close the gates!” Zelda?

“Your Highness, you need to go inside—”

“To your station, General. Before someone else gets hurt.”

Legend has never heard his sister so angry before. He shifts, trying again to stand, and his left elbow bangs against hard metal. The pain vibrates up his arm and he stills, groaning.

“Legend? Can you hear me?”

“Rulie?”

“Can you open your eyes for me?”

His eyes are closed? He tries to open them, squinting, and then they widen.

Legend lies flat on the ground. Hyrule kneels over him, freckles stark against skin bloodless from shock. Beyond him, there’s a circle of Links crowding in close, and beyond them, a wall of silver metal and blue cloth: The backs of his sister’s knights, closing them in. Legend thinks he’s had nightmares of this exact scenario, except then, the knights’ swords faced inward, not out.

“Zel?” he asks.

“I’m here, Link.” Zelda appears above him. Her eyes are wide, and for the first time since they were little, her hair is in disarray. “We need to get him off you, but it’s going to hurt, okay?”

“What?”

“It’s going to hurt, but it’ll be over quickly.” A hand squeezes his right one, and Legend darts his eyes down. Jewels click together where his sister tangles her fingers with his, but his attention is caught on the thin wooden length impaled in his shoulder. No, not impaled—the wood stops at a sliver of metal that gleams against his shirt, slowly being covered by blood dripping from above. Legend traces the blood upwards to green cloth and metal rings, torn open to reveal pale skin—

Then the weight over him shifts, the green and metal pull away, and Legend bites his tongue as the metal is yanked out of him. He catches a quick look at a small, razor-sharp arrowhead, and then the weight is gone entirely. Instead of sitting up, though, Legend lets his head fall back to the ground, energy sapped.

“Put your hands there, Sky.” Hyrule’s voice is distant. “Wild, a red potion?”

Weight presses on Legend again, but this time, it’s just on his injured shoulder. He jolts against it and glares upward.

“I’ll kill you!” he snaps.

Sky smiles, small and wobbly. “I’ll let you,” he promises, and Legend blinks. The pain coursing through his right side has woken him up more. Something about this situation isn’t right.

“What happened?” he asks.

Sky looks away.

“Tell me! Or I’ll pluck every feather from that overgrown—”

“Link!” Zelda reprimands, squeezing his hand, and Legend falls silent. He lifts his head up when Wild appears with a red potion and doesn’t protest when Zelda helps him drink. His mind races, and his stomach rolls when he remembers the bloody green cloth.

The royal family’s color is blue. Green is the hero’s color. And Hyrule isn’t at his side, even though he took an arrow to the shoulder.

“Who was it?” Legend asks. His voice comes out flat, and when Sky meets his eyes again, the first knight is holding back tears.

“Legend,” Sky starts.

“Who tackled me? I need to know, because they did a shitty-ass job—” Legend’s voice breaks. Done waiting, he shoves against the ground again. Sky is still holding pressure to his wound, waiting for the red potion to do its work, but it’s not the dead weight of an injured brother holding him down, and he manages to turn over and sit up.

Warriors lays on the ground before him. The captain is on his front, arms and legs limp, head turned to face Legend, with an arrow sticking out of his left side. A second arrow rests behind Hyrule, like it’s been tossed away, and the healer has both hands over Warriors’ right shoulder, magic radiating around them.

Someone shoves Legend right in his own wound. He groans, then protests, “I’m almost healed!”

But Four is stern and unrepentant where he glares up at him, palm pressed tight to Legend’s shoulder.

“Warriors just took those for you,” the smithy snaps. “Don’t undo all his work by stupidly bleeding out before the red potion finishes healing you.”

“I didn’t—!” Legend’s voice breaks again.

He wants to look away, but his gaze is caught on Warriors. Blood smears the ground between them where the captain’s body must have dragged when they pulled him off of Legend, and more blood pools in the creases of his clothes. His royal scarf, his prized possession, has been discarded to the side just like the arrow.

“I didn’t ask him to save me,” Legend finishes in a whisper.

For a moment, Four’s pressure falters, but then the smithy presses back twice as hard. “I didn’t say you did,” he replies. “It was his choice.”

“He didn’t hesitate,” Zelda adds. She twines her fingers with his again, but if she intends to comfort him, her words do the opposite.

Legend was raised to be a knight, trained by his uncle to one day stand at his sister’s side, and then magic ruined it all. Knights have hunted him across Hyrule and beyond, rarely giving him a day’s rest, and even in his sister’s castle, he feels their glares on his back.

And now there’s Warriors. A knight through and through, to the point Legend sometimes wonders if Hylia crafted him just to annoy Legend, but also someone who has become his brother. Someone who—

Legend’s breath hitches as he remembers the way Warriors has acted since meeting Fable. Standing stiffly, not cursing, shielding any and all emotion, he assumed it was all because Fable is royalty. But what if—

“Let me go,” Legend rasps, and then, when Four doesn’t move immediately, he shoves the smithy’s hand away, pushes to his knees, and lunges toward Warriors.

Voices rise around them, but all his focus is on the idiot lying unconscious before him.

Grabbing Warriors’ shirt, Legend says, “If you sacrificed yourself because I’m a prince, I’ll kill you. You hear me?”

“Link—”

“I’ll kill him!” he spits, eyes meeting Zelda’s. “If he did that because—because—”

“Legend, let him go!”

Legend jerks toward Hyrule. The healer’s hands reach across Warriors, the remnants of his spell sinking in to the sealed wound, but his eyes are wide.

Legend looks down. 

Last he knew, Warriors was unconscious, but now he twists against the ground, toes pressing into the dirt and small moans falling from his lips before he lifts the hand closest to the arrow in his side. In an instant, Legend lets go of the captain’s shirt and seizes his hand instead, afraid he’ll disturb the arrow more.

But at his touch, Warriors pulls away and claws at the ground, fingernails catching on dirt and digging in till Legend couldn’t take his hand again if he tried.

Time leans in over the captain’s head, fingers hovering over his healed shoulder but not touching. “It’s just us, Warriors,” he soothes. “Just us.”

Legend opens his mouth, but for once, he’s speechless. No words come to mind. What does he say to someone when they’re in pain because of him? When his brother took two arrows for him, and all Legend wants to do is shake him for it?

“Can you hear us, Wars?” Hyrule asks. “We need to take the arrow out.”

“Can we do that now?” Four asks. “The shock alone might kill him!”

“Not with me here.” Hyrule’s eyes blaze with magic and determination. “I won’t let him go.”

“Do it.”

It takes Legend a moment to realize who the words came from, but then he jolts and looks down.

Warriors stares back at him. His eyes are half-lidded, his normally infuriatingly perfect golden locks plastered to his head with sweat, but he’s awake.

“Do it,” Warriors repeats. “Now.” He hesitates. “You—you do know how to—”

“Yeah.” Hyrule’s voice is soft now. “Yeah, I know how. You just—uh, will you let Legend hold your hand? So you don’t interfere?”

He doesn’t say “when the pain takes you out of your mind,” but Legend hears it, and he suspects Warriors does, too, because his gaze is wearily accepting.

Warriors tries to pry his hand from the dirt, but his movements are slow and fumbling, nails caught in the ground he’d dug into.

“Here.” Fable reaches for him. “May I?”

Warriors blinks, and Fable continues. Her hand rests on the captain’s, and a shiver goes up his arm, but he doesn’t stop her from pulling his fingers free or from cupping his hand in hers.

“You saved my brother,” she says. “Thank you.” Her words are for Warriors, but her eyes are on Legend, her face open and honest.

Legend’s heart burns in his chest. His sister is about the only person in the entire kingdom he can stand, and yet, circumstances—the lasting remnants of magic on the knights, his Hylia-cursed adventures—have dictated they rarely get to see each other.

But he sees her now, and because of Warriors, they’ll get to keep seeing each other.

“You’re an idiot,” Legend rasps. He rests his hand on his knees, palm open, and his sister lays the captain’s hand in his. Legend squeezes it tight. “Just—tell me you didn’t save me because I’m a prince.”

Warriors squeezes his hand back. Though he must be exhausted from pain, his grip is strong.

“Course I didn’t,” Warriors whispers. “I saved you ‘cause you’re my brother.”

Oh.

Legend tells people he’s a cold-hearted bastard because he ran out of tears long ago, but Hylia damn the captain, his eyes are watering now.

“Turn him now,” Hyrule says abruptly, and then Warriors is moving. The other heroes pull at his left side till he’s resting on his right side, head in Time’s lap and stomach off the ground. Legend moves with him, shuffling closer so they don’t lose contact. In the corner of his eye, he can see hands shifting Warriors’ tunic and chainmail away from his lower abdomen—then Warriors screams, hand tightening around Legend’s.

Legend squeezes back and turns his gaze to the arrow. The shaft has been stripped of its fletching and Four has one hand on the blunt top and the other on Warriors’ side where he’s slowly pressing the arrow through.

Legend tastes bile, but swallows.

“Almost there,” Four murmurs, and then—

There’s a squelching, sucking noise, and a steel arrowhead tears its way out of Warriors’ abdomen.

“There!” Legend says. “It’s through, it’s through!”

Even as he says it, blood seeps through the new wound and quickly turns into a stronger flow, red flooding downwards and soaking into the grass and Legend’s leggings. Sky reaches around him, grabs the wood behind the arrowhead, and pulls. In moments, the arrow is out and Hyrule presses his hands to Warriors’ side, one over the entry wound and one over the exit.

Legend barely breathes, watching Hyrule’s magic close the wounds, and then he turns to Warriors’ face again.

The captain’s eyes are closed, but Time smiles at him.

“Just sleeping,” the old man murmurs.

Legend is tempted to lie down and take a nap right beside Warriors, but he forces himself to stay upright. His brother still has a tight grip on Legend’s hand, and he doesn’t plan on letting go.