#i now want to write a fic where john does have to stand down

[ddagent]

So, I was clip watching 2.14 the other day and had a realisation. John seems so surprised that Earth is going along with the murder indictment. And I realised - they want him out of Babylon 5.

Think about it. In 2.08, Bester seems surprised at Sheridan's behaviour as he had been told John was 'sympathetic to the core'. In 2.11, Hague talks about how John's file paints him as a loyal jarhead - a soldier who would follow orders and piss off the Minbari. 2.14 is set in the August of 2259. In eight months, John has challenged Earth diplomatic policy, the Core, and been on a dinner date with the Minbari Ambassador (and you are not telling me that that wasn't reported back to Clark). By this point, its pretty clear that John isn't their man. So of course they'll let the indictman stand.

What do they have to lose? They get a new commander of B5 - someone loyal to their ideals. If he's found guilty, it will stoke xenophobic fires back home about the war hero John Sheridan facing Minbari justice. If he's found innocent, it might be enough to indoctrinate John into their way of thinking.

But, as always, Earth made one fatal mistake: they underestimated Delenn of Mir.

[moody-alcoholic]

These Violent Delights

Chapter 7 - Kamikaze love

Summary: Poly 141 x fem!reader, a/b/o alternate universe 7.1k words. A nice easy heat that's what everyone could use, no interruptions, just a few days of mindless sex and some time to relax.

CW: MDNI +18 explicit content. a/b/o alternative universe, a/b/o dynamics, typical a/b/o universe tropes (heat, knotting, claiming), gaslighting, brief mentions of needles, hurt/comfort, angst, sex, PiV sex, fingering, knotting, brief mentions of blood, alcohol.

AN: Heat time baby, the best part of every a/b/o fic amiright. I honestly don't know who had more fun with this chapter me writing it or @rememberwren editing it. XD

Previous - masterlist -next AO3

Enjoy <3

You wake in John’s bed with a pit in your stomach. You’re hungry but your head feels fuzzy, and you’re not quite aware. You need to see Dr. Miller to get your last shot, because with the way you feel, you’re pretty sure your heat will be tomorrow. John is not in the room but you can smell him, the scent goes straight to your head making your body tingle as you pull yourself out of the bed. 

You go to your room changing into something comfy and heading to the lab. No one is around. You’re not sure what time it is. You're cold, colder than normal when you step out into the fresh air. Shivers run up and down your body and you pull your arms around your chest. When you get to the lab the place is empty. Dr. Piper's office door is open and you go over to look. She’s not in there. You turn to head up the stairs when the door opens behind you. 

“Hey,” Dr. Miller says. You turn to see him with a coffee in his hands. His nostrils flare, you must still smell of sex. All you can smell in the air is alpha. It makes your head spin and you bump into a table. Your body is moving towards him without you thinking. You miss John, you need him right now. 

“I think my heat might start tomorrow,” you say as he walks past you. The smell of his alpha makes your mouth water as an ache forms in your stomach.

“Let’s get this done quickly then,” he says, and you follow him over to a desk. 

“Where is everyone?” you ask as you take your jacket off. 

“Did you not hear? General Shepherd is making a decision on what’s going to happen, with you, the base, 141, everything. He fired almost all the staff. It’s just a skeleton crew and scientists,” he explains as you roll your sleeve up. Why does this feel like it’s your fault? 

“What do you think he’s going to say?” 

“I heard some things from the other scientists.” His hand is cold on your skin. 

“What did you hear?” you ask, watching as he prepares the needle. 

“Well there are a lot of people here who still support Professor Hale’s vision. Not everyone wants a cure,” he says, and you nod. You’re not even sure if you want a cure, but you’ll go wherever your pack goes. 

“He did love you, you know,” Dr. Miller says pulling your sleeve down. You look at him, confused. You can’t think straight right now. His alpha is too strong in the air and it’s making you woozy. 

“Professor Hale,” he says. 

“He had a funny way of showing it,” you scoff.

“Well, some would call it tough love. You weren't exactly the most well behaved omega.” He smiles, rolling away on his stool. “Besides, people do horrible things for the people they love. Look at your pack, they’ll kill for you if they had to. They have killed for you.” You look at him, now you’re even more confused. Who have they killed for you?

“Do you think I should go back to the Professor? I know it would make their lives easier,” you say, a wave of guilt coming over you. You don’t want to be a burden to them. Dr. Miller is right, you’re not the best omega, you definitely pushed the Professor’s buttons from time to time. You stand up off the stool, but your legs feel like jelly and you have to brace yourself on the table. 

“I think you should do what's best for your pack. Sometimes that means making tough choices, choices we don’t like.” 

You nod, he smiles at you before turning back to his laptop.

“What do I do now?” you ask.

“I’ll see you again after your heat.” He smiles. You nod. Your head is pounding now. The shiver running up and down your body feels electric, and you can smell honey in the air.

“Do you think the hormone blocker will work?” you ask.

“We’ll see.” He nods and you sigh, leaving the building. The cool air makes your already foggy head spin more. You can still smell his alpha. You’re stumbling down the path thinking back to what he said. The Professor loved you? He had a funny way of showing it.

You stop in your tracks half way back to the barracks. There are dark clouds moving in, and it’s probably going to rain again. You can’t go back to the barracks. You need to think; you need a clear mind. 

You can’t do that when all you can smell in the building is alpha. Just thinking about John and the time you spent together yesterday has your body throbbing. You head in a different direction, and before you know where you’re really going you’ve found yourself in the abandoned building you were doing training in a few days ago. You don’t even remember walking here. Your head is stuffy, making you dizzy as you walk through back into the upstairs room with the wooden desk. 

You don’t know how many hours have passed but the sky looks different, and your body is stiff as you’re leaning against the desk. Your limbs feel heavy, and the pit in your stomach has turned into a burn. You shiver as a breeze blows through the open window, it stings your cheeks.

You bring your hand up to feel, and they’re wet. You've been crying. You can’t remember what happened. You were with the doctor, then you ended up here. You focus on remembering what you talked to him about, but your mind is drawing a blank, and all you feel is sadness and guilt.

The Professor. He wants you back, and there's a man here to take you. Dr. Miller was right, people do stupid things for the people they love. Love? Do you love John, or is it just because you’re a pack? Thinking about John makes the ache burn inside you deeper than anything you’ve felt before.

You can’t think straight remembering his scent, leather, the ground after rain. You look out the window watching the sky and you can hear the rain starting to fall and the distant rumble of thunder. You need more time to think. You lean back on the desk, closing your eyes. 

“Found her.” The smell of alpha hits your nose hard and fast. You’re shivering as you see Simon walk into your view. You look at him confused and dizzy as you try to focus on him. He calls your name, bending down in front of you. Your body is stiff, legs numb. His hand shakes your shoulder. You don’t know what to say. There’s throbbing deep in your core as his scent overwhelms you, all you can smell is alpha. 

“Alpha,” you whine reaching out for him, his eyes twinkling in the low light. The sky is full of shades of pink and orange. You project your scent out but all you can smell is honey, you can taste it in the air.

His eyes go wide and he stands back up as another set of footsteps come into the room. You smell beta now, heavy, cutting through your scent. It’s Johnny who kneels down in front of you. 

“Hey lass, gave us a right scare you did.” He smiles, reaching out and hooking his arm around you, pulling you to your feet. Your legs feel like jelly and as soon as you go to take a step you stumble. Johnny’s arm stays tight around you though, keeping you steady as you slowly walk out the building. 

“Is the General going to take me away?” you ask, your throat dry. 

“Never, is that what you’ve been worried about? Is that why you hid?” he asks. You shake your head. You watch as Simon, who had been walking in front of you, stops at the entrance to the barracks. 

“I’ll go, tell Price I'll talk to him later.” Johnny nods at him then helps you up the steps into the building. As soon as you get in you’re hit with what feels like a million senses at once. The building is warm and your cold body almost immediately starts to shiver. You can smell worry in the air and alpha. It’s stronger than Simon, and it immediately has your head pounding. 

Then there are the voices. Dr. Piper and John get up off the table coming over to you, but you can’t hear what they’re saying. Between the throbbing headache and the shakes you’re struggling to focus. Dr. Piper's cold hands come to your face, and the shock causes you to take in a deep breath clearing your head. 

“You’re burning up hun, how are you feeling?” she asks. You don’t know what to say. Your eyes move over to John, he's standing behind her with his arms crossed. 

“Alpha,” you call out to him reaching for him, your body moving before you realise it. Dr. Piper moves out the way as your hand stretches out, and he takes a step forward and Johnny transfers you into his arms. 

“Si said he’ll catch up with you later,” Johnny says. You close your eyes, letting John’s scent relax you. 

“She needs to take a shower, it’ll bring her fever down,” Dr. Piper says. You project your scent into the air, honey and strawberries. It makes you smile. 

“Is it her heat?” John asks, swallowing hard.

“The early stages, yes, but she’s got herself worked up for some reason. It’s important she stays calm and we get this fever under control. Stay with her, the last thing we need is her running off again. I will talk to Lieutenant Riley,” you hear Dr. Piper say as John peel's you off his chest. 

“Thank you,” John says, turning towards the bathroom. You hear Johnny and Dr. Piper leave. 

“You had us worried, you can’t just wander off like that, what if you got hurt?” he says. 

“I’m sorry,” you reply. You’re just happy to be near him. He sighs, leading you towards the bathroom. You feel like you're floating as you strip your clothes making your way over to the showers. You turn it up hot letting the water soak you.

You can still feel a chill in the air when you feel John step up behind you. His scent fills your nose and it immediately relaxes you as you lean against him. He holds you up as he reaches over, turning the temperature of the shower down. 

“It’s cold,” you protest.

“It’s not cold, you have a fever,” he says, pressing you further into the shower so the water can run over your whole body. 

“What are you worried about?” he asks. You sigh, you can’t remember. 

“Worried about the heat,” you mumble, turning in his arms.

“Nothing to be worried about,” he says as you try to nuzzle your face in his neck, his scent is going straight to your head. It's been so long since you’ve had anything you can call a ‘normal’ heat. Maybe this is normal, you feel like you just want to cling onto John and never let go. His hands run up your arms and he moves you back a little, the water is cold on your burning skin. 

“You’ll be fine, I'll take care of you. We all will.” His hand comes up to your face, his thumb brushes your chin as he pulls your face up to look at him. 

He leans down and kisses you, it's slow and soft and makes your whole body tingle. The ache is burning inside you now, all you can smell in the air is honey. He breaks away, turning you around, forcing you to stay in the shower until you’ve cooled down.

He leaves to bring you clean clothes and pajamas. You’re tired when you leave, following John blindly as you dry yourself and change. He leads you into his room. You don’t need to be told anything, you just climb into bed. He doesn’t even have time to get into bed with you. You fall asleep as soon as your head hits the pillow.

Your body is burning. 

Sweat has made your pajamas and hair stick to you. Each point of contact burns. You grip your top trying to pull it off your chest, anything to give you a break from the overstimulation. John is not in the bed, but you can smell him. You need him. Before you know it you’re kicking the bedding off. Your thighs rub together trying anything to quell the ache throbbing between your legs. 

It doesn’t work though, too much slick, there’s no friction even as you pull your sodden shorts and underwear off. John could be working, it could be hours before he’s back, your top brushes your nipples as you turn in the bed causing you to moan out. You grip it, pulling it off over your head. It takes you more effort than you thought and you have to lay back down panting as you catch your breath. 

When you can move again you roll to the other side of the bed rubbing your legs together. You can smell him on his pillow which just makes the pain worse. You roll again but this time you misjudge the distance and you roll off the bed. Your head slams painfully on the floor. You cry out, trying to prop yourself up.

The room door opens and it makes you jump pulling your body into the fetal position. You can smell the alpha in the air. It must be John in the doorway, but you’re too confused to tell, still trying to comprehend how you ended up on the floor. 

You hear him call Dr. Piper. Definitely John. You relax, going back to prop yourself up so you can make your way over to him. You need him, you need to feel him, you want him inside you. 

“Alpha,” you call as another figure walks into the room. There’s a strong smell of beta now. You look up through your hazy eyes seeing Dr. Piper bend down in front of you. She presses her cold hands on your cheeks. She doesn't say anything, just brushes the hair stuck to your forehead. 

“Present for your alpha,” Dr. Piper says as she stands back up. The words are familiar to your ears. Your body is already moving, pressing your face and chest into the floor. You thrust your hips up, slick dripping down your thighs, you’re desperate to feel his hands on you, desperate for him to be inside you.

“Please alpha,” you whine, projecting your scent into the room. Dr. Piper knows she can’t stick around for too long. As soon as John gives in he’ll become aggressive to anyone who isn’t his pack.  

“Don’t be afraid to hurt her,” she says

“I’m not going to hurt her.”

“She won't remember.” 

“I don’t care.”

“She needs you, she’ll do whatever it takes to get you,” Dr. Piper sighs, backing up. 

“I’m not going to hurt her,” John repeats. You don't care about him hurting you or not. You need him.

“Don’t think about it too much, your body knows what to do,” she says, taking a step back to the door. “The betas will be in to check on you both.”

John is almost not listening, watching as you back up towards him. Your scent is thick in the air, sweet, so sweet it has John’s mouth watering. 

“Please alpha,” you call again. You can smell him in the air. You know he’s near, you need the pain to stop, you need his knot. You’re being a good omega waiting for him and presenting yourself. You feel his hand rest on the bottom of your back and it sends shivers up your spine. His hand travels down to squeeze your ass. Yes yes , his warm hand is on you, you back up more for him moaning into the floor. His scent is strong in the air now, alpha on full display. 

“On the bed.” His voice is low, rumbling from the back of his throat. You follow his instructions climbing up on the bed and laying down. You’re rubbing your thighs together trying to get any sort of friction but there’s no release. 

“Alpha,” you whine. “Please.” 

Your scent is strong in the air but so is his, and it fills your nose just making you more desperate. You arch your back calling out for him again. You can see him in your haze, you know he’s there. He’s taking his clothes off pulling his shirt over his head and stepping out his shoes.

Your eyes scan over him, the fuzziness dispersing for a few seconds as you take in his bare skin. You hear his belt drop to the floor. He’s completely naked now. Your mouth fills with saliva and you lick your lips. You want to reach out and feel him but he leans over you, his hands finding your face.

“I’ve got you.” His pupils dilate as one of his hands runs down your body to your clit. It’s almost too much, and you almost cum just from the brief contact. You can only smell him in the air now, it’s overwhelming, making you dizzy as his hand rests on your abdomen.

His lips meet yours. You’re drinking him up, he tastes amazing, his tongue pressing against yours. He pulls away from the kiss, and you moan in protest, your lips tingling from the lack of contact.

You reach out for him and he sits you up climbing into the bed and kneeling down behind you. He scoops his hands under your armpits pulling you up against his chest as he leans back on the headboard. You can feel his cock between your legs, you want to reach down and grab it, squirming in his arms as he rests you down on his knees. 

“Alpha,” you breathe, one of his hands moving down to your clit. His cock twitches, and it makes you whimper. You want it, to feel it, you want it to be inside of you. His breath is hot in your ear as he shushes you.

You tip your head back moaning as he coats his fingers in your slick. He presses his fingers into you and you clench around him, his fingers feel good but his cock would be better. You need his knot, you need him to fill you up.

“Alpha, I need you,” you say, but it just makes him push his fingers into you deeper, his tongue running along your neck. 

“What do you need?” he growls. His alpha is on full display, you let it fill your nose, making your mouth water. 

“Need your knot.” His fingers leave you and you gasp as he presses them onto your clit. You moan, arms reaching out to grip the bedding. You’re so sensitive it only takes a few seconds before you’re cumming on his hand. More slick gushes out as you feel his cock twitch as he moves, covering his fingers in your slick. 

The wet sounds of him pumping his cock isn’t helping quell the ache. You lean forward so he can line himself up with your entrance easier. You bend right over, pressing your hands down on the bed. One of his hands stays around your waist holding you in position as he slowly presses into you. The relief is instantaneous, and you let out a long moan as stars appear in your vision.

You’re almost not paying attention to anything but the satisfaction of having your alpha filling you up. You clench around him, his hands gripping around your stomach pulling you back against him. You didn't think he could go deeper but he does as he grips you tighter to his body. He moves you like you weigh nothing as you moan for him, letting your scent fill the air. 

“Such a good omega,” he breathes, his lips running over your neck. It makes you shiver, and the thought of him claiming you makes you clench around him again. He moans, his breath hot on your neck as he bucks his hips into you. 

“Alpha—” You’re going to cum, it’s too much. You don’t have time to warn him as you cum around him, slick gushing out as he throbs inside you. 

“Christ, love,” he says through gritted teeth. The smell of leather is filling the air now, and it makes you dizzy as you come down from the orgasm. A second later you’re desperate again. There’s no relief, you need his knot, it's the only thing that will make the pain stop. 

“Need your knot alpha,” you beg. You don’t wait for him, fucking yourself on his cock as he pants behind you. His hands move up from your hips to your breasts pinching your nipples.

“Yes, yes,” whatever you need to say to get his knot. After a few more seconds his hands grip your hips again as he takes over for you pulling you up and down on him. His nose is nuzzled into your neck. You know he’s going to claim you, his tongue running over your scent gland as he breathes you in.

He moans, pressing little kisses on your neck as you bounce on him. You’re not thinking, you can’t. Knot, knot, it’s all you want. Be a good omega and let him take you, when you’ve done a good enough job you’ll get his knot. Everything feels too good and not enough at the same time. 

“You going to be a good omega and let me claim you? Make you mine?” His voice is rumbling, feral in your ear. You’ve never heard him like this before, it makes the hairs stand up on the back of your neck as you breathe him in, getting drunk off his scent. You couldn’t say no even if you wanted to. Your nails dig into your thighs.

“Yes alpha, I want to be your omega.” The response is almost automatic. He hums into your neck, his cock driving into you faster. He’s close again, you can tell, the pheromones in the air are lulling you out, and you don’t know how much more you can take before you’re not aware anymore. Then it happens. His tongue traces up to your scent gland, and you tip your head forward as his teeth sink into you. You yelp in pain. Your whole body tingles, and then you black out. 

You come to a few seconds later, pain throbbing at the base of your skull. 

“You okay?” he asks, supporting your body against his chest. You nod, your mouth feeling suddenly dry. Your adrenaline is spiked, your heart beating rapidly in your chest. You relax back into his arms. You can’t tell if you feel different or not. You can feel the blood trickling down your back. The wound will already be healing and closing up. 

You want to touch it, to feel the indents his teeth will have created. You don’t get a chance. He maneuvers your body down onto the bed. You feel empty, the adrenaline wearing off and the ache coming back. Everything will go hazy soon, so you enjoy the feeling of being aware of what’s going on around you as John pulls you into his arms. 

After a few minutes things are starting to get hazy again. The burning is back, the ache deep in your core. You need him, need his knot. You’re backing up against him, and you feel his hard cock pressing against you. His hand comes down, his fingers running over your entrance. You gasp as he pushes two fingers in, and you tighten round them, letting him press against your g-spot. It’s not enough though.

“You feel so good, such a good omega. Perfect omega,” he says into your ear. It makes a warmth bubble up inside you. You moan at the praise, his fingers working faster. Before you know it you’re cumming around him. You pant as he sucks on your neck, his tongue brushing past your mark. It sends tingles all down your spine. You’re his omega now, and he’s your alpha. His scent is strong, his fingers still working inside you. He’s not going to stop until you’re cumming again and you don’t care. You’re being a good omega for him, and then he will give you his knot. 

“Please—” you beg. He hums, taking his fingers out and pressing them on your clit. You moan. Your body shakes as he rubs your swollen sensitive bud until you’re cumming again on his hand. Your body shakes as he works you through the orgasm. The smell of leather hits your nose as you push up against him. This time he gives you what you want, lining himself up with your entrance. 

“Please, John. I need you.” You are begging again, but you don’t really care. You’re desperate for him. His hands keep your hips in place as he pushes inside of you. You feel so full clenching around him as he drives into you. 

“Such a good omega, my omega,” he growls into your ear. Warmth blooms inside you, you are his omega. 

“Your omega,” you purr as his fingers dig into your hips. The repetitive movements of John bucking his hips into you are making your head spin. You’re getting close and this time you need his knot. 

“I need your knot alpha,” you beg. 

“You can have my knot, you’ve been such a good omega,” his voice is grumbling as he nips at your neck. It sends shivers down your spine as his tongue traces your mark. You relax for him, letting him move you however he wants to. You lay there as he wraps his arms around you pressing you against him.

You bring your legs up which makes him feel tighter inside you. His thrusts become longer and deeper, hitting a new spot inside that you’ve never felt before. When you cum around him you see fucking stars he moans and he kisses your neck, pulling your hips down as he cums. He’s throbbing inside you as fills you up. 

“Such a good girl, good omega,” he pants into your neck. He kisses the mark he left. You finally feel satisfied, his knot inside you. You relax up against him as he reaches down pulling the duvet over you. You hum. You want to thank him but you don’t have the energy. You close your eyes letting out a sigh as his arms wrap around you. It won’t be long before you’re asleep.  

It’s 12 hours since your heat has started, and Kyle stands outside John’s room. He knows he has to be careful, he needs to get at least some water into John without startling you, and he needs to check your mark— if John has claimed you. Dr. Montgomery did say it could happen on the second day. The noises from the room had settled down a few hours ago, and it seemed like a better time than any to check. He opens the door slowly. Your scent is heavy in the air. The whole building smells of honey, sweet strawberries and leather. 

He walks in as quietly as he can. You and John are both asleep. You look so peaceful, John’s arms wrapped around you, your back pressed against his chest, the duvet pulled over you both. Kyle can’t tell if you’re knotted but he assumes you are.

He walks over to the pack of water bottles on the floor and takes one out before going over to John and gently shaking him awake. John opens his eyes, squinting for a few seconds before propping himself up in the bed. You moan as he moves, your scent filling Kyle's nose. John’s arm squeezes you closer. Kyle hands him a water bottle and he takes his arm off you to open it, gulping it down. 

“How do you feel?” Kyle asks. 

“Fine, how’s things out there?” he asks. 

“Nothing to report, Johnny and Simon have been keeping themselves busy.”  

“What about Shepherd?” he asks, handing the empty bottle back to Kyle.

“He went to Seattle a few hours ago, said he would be back after her heat.” 

John sighs. Kyle waits for a few seconds, handing John a protein bar. He doesn't need to worry about getting food into you for the first few days, but Johnny will need to get you to drink later. You shuffle in the bed backing up to John who moans with half the bar in his mouth. His eyes go glossy, Kyle doesn’t have long before John will be out of it again. 

“Did you claim her?” he asks. John nods. His hand comes up to the back of your neck and you stur, protesting as John’s fingers touch your neck. He shushes you gently pulling your hair out the way. Kyle wasn’t sure what he was expecting but when he looks all he can see is the indents of teeth in your skin. It’s not red or swollen which is what Dr. Montgomery told him to look out for. John puts your hair back down as you whine.

Kyle needs to leave. He's done his job and he can smell John’s scent getting stronger. John’s shushing you as Kyle leaves, carefully shutting the door as quiet as he can. He’ll update Dr. Montgomery then get some rest. It’ll probably be a few hours before you’ll be active again. 

It’s another late night. The rain is heavy and storms have been rolling in. The forecast is looking bleak for the next few days which hasn’t helped with Simon's mood. He hasn’t been able to get out much. Price didn’t leave him much work to do and with Shepherd leaving, he doesn't have any responsibilities. Johnny meets up with him around midday and updates him with how things are going. Then they either hit the gym or the range for a couple of hours. 

He can’t tell if the hormone blocker is working, but it doesn’t help that Johnny always smells of you. Strawberries and honey. It gets his heart racing. Johnny doesn’t seem to mind when the sparring session or the range training is cut short by Simon dragging Johnny into whatever room he can find. Bending him over whatever surface he sees, fucking him while he gets drunk on your lingering scent. You’re plaguing his mind.

He misses you more than he thought he would. Maybe it’s because you’re in heat and he swears he can smell you and John from his room on the other side of the base. It’s always the jealousy that gets him, knowing John claimed you and he never had a chance.

The good thing about the sleepless nights is that he knows he can always find Dr. Montgomery working late. She’s always in the lab which is the closest he will get to the barracks. Even then if he stands in the right spot he can smell you. Maybe it’s just his mind playing tricks on him or the fact that his senses seem hypertuned to pick you up, but it’s all he gets. 

Tonight is no different, sitting with Dr. Montgomery as she explains something about genetics. He likes listening to her talk, it’s a good distraction, and it makes him feel closer to you in a strange way. He knows she has to keep her distance too. She’s not part of their pack. If John senses her, he’ll get defensive, and he could end up hurting himself or you.

“How are you holding up?” she asks when she’s finished with her explanation. 

“Fine,” he lies. She hums. Maybe she can tell, but he doesn’t care and she never presses him about it. 

“The first few days are the worst, things will calm down tomorrow,” she says, sighing. It’s been two days already, a long 48 hours.  

“Getting much rest? You seem tired,” she states. 

“Plenty.” 

“Want to talk about it?” she asks. He looks at her. Her expression is soft, her green eyes look darker in the low light. She smiles at him. 

“We found Hale,” he says, looking away. She doesn’t say anything for a few seconds. 

“When? Ho—Where?” she asks, eyes wide with shock. Simon can smell fear in the air. 

“A few days ago. He’s in Seattle,” he says. 

“Seattle, that’s—he’s just over an hour away.” She’s stood up now running her hand through her hair. Simon turns to look at her. 

“Does she know?” 

“No, Price thought it was best to wait until after her heat.” 

She sighs sitting back down. 

“She’s safe here,” Simon says. 

“Is that where General Shepherd is? With Hale?” 

“We think so.”

“He could bring him here,” Dr. Montgomery says. There’s a shake in her voice. 

“It’s a possibility.” He shrugs. Dr. Montgomery scoffs. 

“You’re not very good at putting people at ease,”  she says, shaking her head. Simon watches her click through on the computer. 

“ What the hell? ” she mutters. 

“What?” He looks over at the screen. 

“Someone's scrubbed all my files.” She presses something and an error comes up. “What does that mean?” 

“You’re not high enough security level,” Simon says, scooting closer to her. “Let me.” He pulls the keyboard over to him entering his log in, but the same error pops up.

“That’s almost all the research you guys got from the bunker. Not to mention all the work we’ve been doing over the past few weeks,” she says, clicking again only for the same error. He pulls the keyboard to him again. 

“Don’t tell Price I know this.” He tries logging in with Price’s login. This time a new error pops up.

“Fuckin’ Shepherd.” 

“What does that mean?” she asks, looking at it.

“It means we need Shepherd’s permission to see it.” He leans back on the stool. 

“How the hell are we supposed to continue with research?” she asks, sounding frustrated. 

“Don’t you have a local copy?” 

“This is the local copy. Everything is saved into this weird cloud system. It sucks.” She slaps her hand on the desk. “What are we going to do?” 

“I don’t know,” he replies, watching her click away from the error. She closes the tab down. 

“Let me check what paperwork we have, at least then we can work on something.” She gets up heading to her office. Simon watches then looks back over at the computer. He logs Price out as Laswell walks into the building. 

“I was looking for you on the other side of the base. Kyle said you might be here.” She walks over to him. Dr. Montgomery walks back out of her office with a folder in her hands.

“We need to talk, there’s been a development.” Simon can tell she wants to talk alone. He looks over at Dr. Montgomery as she walks round to her spot next to him. 

“What is it?” he asks, not moving. 

“General Shepherd's new security detail for Professor Hale.” She hands him a piece of paper. It’s an email. He reads it and a pit forms in his stomach.

“Shadow Company, Graves will get his grubby hands everywhere.” He sighs standing up and handing her the paper back. “When was this sent?” 

“Couple of hours ago,” Laswell says.

“What’s Shadow Company?” Dr. Montgomery asks. He turns to look at her, thinking for a second if he should tell her or not.

“Private militia group,” he says, turning back to Laswell.

“Wait, so that means Hale's going to have his own personal army?” Dr. Montgomery asks. He doesn’t answer. This is down to him to sort out. 

“Get Gaz and Soap,” he says to Laswell. She nods leaving the room.

“Still think she's safe?” she asks. He turns to look at her, her hands on her hips. He can read the ‘I told you so’ on her face. No, she’s not safe, not any more . 

“She’s safe,” he says. She has to be.  

Professor Hale pours out two glasses of whisky as he waits for the inevitable knock on his door. Keeping on General Shepherd's good side is the most important thing right now, if he wants any chance of getting into the base.

He brings the glass up to his nose smelling the woody tones letting the strong smell of alcohol calm him. Even though he's expecting it, the knock at the door still makes him jump. He’s been on edge since reluctantly agreeing to work with the government. He still fears they will charge in and put a stop to everything. 

“Come in,” he calls. For now he has to trust them. General Shepherd walks in with another man following behind him. They could be the polar opposite of each other, one is old and fat, the other looks fit and young. 

“I’m so glad you agreed to meet with me. I didn’t know you were bringing a guest,” he says, offering him the glass. He accepts and Hale motions them both to sit down on the couch.

“This is Commander Phillip Graves. I spoke to you about him on the phone. Hopefully he can help you with your security problem,” Shepherd says, Hale reaches out to shake his hand. 

“Of course, I didn’t think the DOD would be so interested in the project.” Hale smiles, pouring another glass.  

“We’re not with the DOD. Shadow Company operates as a private militia,” Phillip explains. This is exactly what he needs. A private militia means they’re bought, not sworn, easier to get them to do what he wants. He smiles at Shepherd raising his glass and taking a sip. Shepherd follows him, as Phillip refuses the drink. 

“What is the plan then?” Hale asks. 

“The CIA are trying to keep knowledge of this project classified. The less people involved the better. I have worked with 141 in the past. I will be able to keep them out of your way while you continue your work. Our main goal is still to get you on the base. The base has been cleared, stripped to only essential personnel. Unfortunately the DOD still have not made a decision on whether or not they want to staff the base with active duty personnel,” Shepherd explains. 

“We will be able to provide you with security where you need it as well as being able to accompany you to the base when the time comes,” Phillip explains.

“I am very grateful for that. How do you plan on handling 141?” he asks.

“We’ve crossed paths before, they won’t be a problem,” Phillip says. 

“What other news is there from the base? How is the omega?” Hale asks. He needs to know. There is a burning inside him. He needs to know how his omega is. 

“She is in heat, from what I understand Captain Price is dealing with that.” Shepherd finishes his drink. Hale can tell he’s awkward about it. He sometimes forgets most people have never been exposed to this world, to his life's work. 

“Is he going to claim her?” Hale presses. 

“I believe that's the plan.” Shepherd puts his glass down on the coffee table. Anger rises in him and he drinks the rest of the whisky enjoying the way it burns his throat. He was going to claim you. You were supposed to be his omega. The thought of someone else's mark on your neck makes him infuriated.

He grips the glass harder trying to ignore the urge to snap, to give the order now to have Shepherd and Graves rush to the base to take you by force. He calms himself. He can’t go after you alone, not while you’re surrounded by special forces. He has to be smart, play the long game. 

“What about the research for a cure?” 

“Dr. Montgomery is very adamant on the fact she will be able to find one. We seized her work pending approval from the DOD and whichever medical board it’s being sent to,” Shepherd explains. Good, all the time he can get the better. “Her staff will be given the option to return to work for you as well as full immunity for past transgressions.” Maybe the only good thing that came out of his lab being destroyed is the fact it hid a lot of the things they had done. Definitely made it easier convincing the government to fund his research when the proof of ethics violations had been destroyed. 

“Hopefully we will be able to get things moving within the next few days. Until then I am sure you and Commander Graves will have plenty of time to talk,” Shepherd says, getting up as Graves follows him. Hale smiles quickly walking round them.

“I’m sure we will, I have plenty of time to discuss things tomorrow,” Hale says, shaking both their hands.

“Of course. We’ll be in touch and if there is anything you need let us know,” Shepherd says.

“Thank you,” Hale responds, following him to the door. “I’ll keep that in mind, General.” The door closes and he waits to hear Shepherd step away before locking the door. He smiles, walking over to his desk picking up the whisky and a clean glass on the way. He sits down looking across the office, pouring another glass.

He’s getting a private military company. He types the name into the search engine not expecting anything to come up but there it is. Shadow Company, Commander Phillip Graves. Hale is reading the site when his phone rings. He sees the name picking it up. 

“How was the meeting with General Shepherd, do you think he can help?” Ashford, his assistant, asks. There’s no time for pleasantries, they won’t have long to talk. 

“I think so, we might be able to move quicker than expected,” Hale says, taking a sip of his drink. “How are things on your end?” 

“Fine, Dr Montgomery is freaking out about her work being seized. The omega is in heat, Captain Price claimed her.” It's the news he didn’t want to hear but he expected it. He finishes the rest of his glass sighing. This time he lets the anger bubble up inside him. 

“Just keep your head down and gather information. Things might be moving quicker than we think.” He swallows the anger, not letting his voice falter. 

“Of course sir,” Ashford says before hanging up the phone. This is his chance. With Shepherd on his side, and now a private militia, getting the omega back might be easier than he thinks.

Next Dividers by Plum98 & gild-ui

[xxsquiddkiddxx]

Johnny boyyy!(bender)

THAT, my friend, is a FANTASTIC idea :D I like the way you think -3- So! Not really knowing what to write, I went to Pinterest for one of them Person A Person B prompts. I'll link the one I used. This is the one I used :D

Living in the Moment: John Bender x Reader

Pronouns for reader: She/Her

Relationship type: Platonic to Romantic, Friends to Lovers

General Idea: John and Y/N have been friends for years now. A duo of chaos, dare I say. The two once again get themselves into detention. But what happens when feigning a nap Y/N hears something she wasn't meant to hear?

Content Warnings: Drugs (It's a Breakfast Club fic... it's kinda in the terms and conditions), Bender being soft, swearing, (Y/N) doesn't hate Claire (that's a recurring theme in these fics for some reason. I actually really like Claire)

(Nobody's POV)

"We pretty much asked for this detention served to us on a silver platter." (Y/N) says, hands in her pockets as she walks to Shermer High School. She turns her head to her friend, John Bender, who was walking beside her.

"It's worth it though." He says, fishing around in his pocket for his sunglasses. It wasn't sunny out at all, he literally only ever wore them to piss off Vernon. He takes another pair out of one of his coat pockets and put them on (Y/N)'s head. He flicks them so they slide onto her face, causing her to laugh.

"John!" She laughs in mock offence, taking bits of her hair out from behind the sunglasses. The two walk into the library and sit down next to each other, their movements pretty much in sync. A few people were also in detention. People (Y/N) recognized as Brian Johnson; a nerd she had physics with, Claire Standish; a girl who (Y/N) had respect for but never bothered to talk to, Andrew Clark; an kid on the wrestling team who was similar to Claire in (Y/N)'s eyes, and Allison Reynolds; someone (Y/N) had talked to a few times... but never had a real conversation with.

Vernon walks in and stands, just looking at the mini crowd of teens in the library. His eyes set on (Y/N) sitting next to Bender and laughs humorlessly. "On your feet (L/N), you're sitting somewhere else."

"I can sit where I want." She retorts, folding her arms over her chest. "It's a free country." Vernon yanks her out of her seat and she starts to sit at the desk behind John, to which Vernon snaps.

"Next to her." He points towards Allison, who snaps her head up instantly. (Y/N) does as she's told, but devises a plan to reunite with her friend once the dictator leaves.

"Well... here we are. I want to congradulate you for being on time." Vernon says, his tone of voice being slightly degrading.

"Excuse me, sir?" Claire raises her hand. "I think there's been a mistake. But, um... I don't think I belong here." John and (Y/N) exchange a look that says "Oh dear God" . Vernon is unfazed by this.

Vernon goes on to talk about how everyone has pretty much 9 hours to be in here and that we have to do a 1000 word essay on who we think we are. When Vernon leaves, (Y/N) scoots herself right back to her original spot. A few hours goes by; John bullies Claire and Andrew, Allison draws and using her dandruff as a art utensil, and Brian was.... well Brian did whatever Brian does.

Once hour 2 hit, all (Y/N) wanted to do was sleep. She layed her head on the table and she drifted off to sleep.

.·:¨༺ ༻¨:·

(Y/N) feels herself drift back into consciousness, but keeps her eyes closed. "You're really pretty." She hears the breathy whisper of Bender. It's almost completely silent, and she probably wouldn't have caught it if she wasn't hyper-aware of his voice. "God I love you..." He whispers. She feels his fingers brush some hair out of her face, then it's silenced again.

"WAKE UP!" The cold voice of Vernon shoots (Y/N) up and almost 10 feet out of her seat. "(L/N) didn't I tell you to sit somewhere else?" (Y/N) looks around and points to herself innocently.

"Who, me?" She says, playing dumb. "I don't think so, sir." John and Andrew snicker at her antics.

"Don't play dumb with me, girl." Vernon threatens.

"I'm not, Dick. Can I call ya Dick?" She says, smiling innocently. Vernon doesn't have time to respond before (Y/N) continues. "Why would I play dumb anyways? I'm a smart girl with potential. Now Miss Standish here." She starts, gesturing towards Claire. The redhead whirls right around and makes a nasty face towards (Y/N). (Y/N) ignores it and continues her shenanigans. "She would play dumb to get what she wants, it's written all over her face!"

Vernon doesn't respond, but instead just says: "Alright girls, that's 30 minutes for lunch."

"Here?" Andrew asks.

"Here." Vernon says, firm in choice.

"Well," Andrew starts. "I think that the cafeteria is a more suitable place to eat lunch in, sir."

"Well I don't care WHAT you think, Andrew." Vernon starts. John gets a sparkle in his eyes and opens his mouth to speak. (Y/N) leans back, ready for what was about to go down.

"Uh, Dick?" John says. "Excuse me, Rich... Will MILK be made available to us?"

"We're extremely thirsty, sir." Andrew piggybacks off of John.

"I have a very low tolerance for dehydration." Claire says.

"I've seen her dehydrated, sir." Andrew says, nodding. "It's pretty gross."

After a whole scenario and a half, everyone has a coke and a lunch. Everyone eats together, John and (Y/N) being without meals. "Ya wanna do something stupid?" John whispers to his friend, his breath tickling (Y/N)'s face.

"Oh always, Dear." She says dramatically. The two start to stand up and walk out of the library.

"H-hey, we aren't supposed to do that." Brian starts.

"Relax, Peewee." John says. "We're just going to my locker. Nothin' special."

"Why? You got drugs in there or something?" Andrew asks condescendingly. (Y/N) giggles.

"Something like that."

.·:¨༺ ༻¨:·

John, (Y/N), Brian, and Claire sat in a circle, smoking joints and laughing. (Y/N) takes a hit off of her and John's shared joint, John's arm around her shoulders. Claire takes a hit off of hers and coughs.

"Chicks cannot hold they smoke." Brian says in a goofy voice, sending (Y/N) into a fit of giggles. "That's what it is."

Brian and Claire go off to Andrew and Allison, leaving John and (Y/N) alone. Bender, of course, can't help but admire (Y/N) momentarily before she says something.

"Did you mean that?" She asks, looking up at him. John looks at her odd. "What you said?"

John takes the joint from her fingers and moves it away from her. "AAAAAlright no more dope for you." He jokes. He looks at his friend's face, realizing she was dead-serious. "What do you mean what I said?"

"That I'm pretty and that you love me." (Y/N) says before repeating her question. "Did you mean it?"

John feels himself go bright red in the face. Part of him wanted to just skip over the question and blow it off. But something on her face (and also the marijuana) made him finally respond with the truth. "Yeah, I meant it."

"In a friend way?" (Y/N) asks. John REALLY wants to lie here, but he's too hopped up on weed and the feeling of (Y/N)'s body snuggled into his that he just responds with the truth, even if it feels like it's against his own will.

"No."

The two sit in silence before (Y/N) breaks it. "I love you too, John." She whispers. John turns to look at the girl. "Not in the friend way." The two sit in a content silence. They didn't need to speak any words, nor engage any actions. They were more content than any words or actions could ever activate.

After a few moments, (Y/N) leans her head on John's shoulder, and he rubs (Y/N)'s arm with his thumb, sharing the joint until it's gone. They stay like this for a while, just living in the moment.

Cuz at the end of the day, that's how John Bender and (Y/N) (L/N) roll. They take things wherever fate takes them. Sometimes it takes them somewhere fantastic, other times it takes them into some deep shit. But between us, I don't think they cared. They just liked to live in the moment.

A/N: Wow, OK that was longer than I thought it would be XD But I had to add the Brian High scene (it's my favorite in the whole movie). I actually really liked writing Y/N's character (even if I almost wrote my name more times than I can count). But yeah, more content soon :)

~Squeed

[voxofthevoid]

HELLO I AM HERE TO TALK ABOUT OUR LORD AND SAVIOUR THE LESBIAN JESUS GIDEON NAV THE FIRST FLOWER OF THE NINTH HOUSE

there is just so much to talk when it comes to Gideon but her relationship with Pyrrha is fascinating. because Pyrrha wanted and still wants Gideon, who has never been anyone's priority. Gideon doesn't think she is wanted but Pyrrha mourned her for all these years. do you think she as G1deon looked at Harrow and imagined that Wake's child would be close in age? and she doesn't even know that the child is sharing bodies with her necro just like her

they meet finally and Pyrrha fucks it up, because she never expected to meet Gideon, because Gideon has always been a Concept not a person so now faced with the real person she says the wrong thing. Pyrrha talks about fucking her mother but not how she mourned Gideon. and it's made worse by Gideon learning that Pyrrha knew about her because for her entire life she believed she was wanted and not abandoned like everyone told her. but Pyrrha knowing and not returning was reaffirming of that. and it's not even Pyrrha's fault! she couldn't have known, she would have trouble returning to Ninth! but Gideon is 19 and has been abused her entire life and she is upset, she just learnt her mother, who she believed loved her, only had her to kill her

and then there is Nona. Nona who is in Harrow's body but could be either of them and Pyrrha isn't trying really hard to learn. this is her chance to make up for the lost years, to raise that child and build a relationship without the burden of her being raised on the Ninth. and of course Pyrrha loves Nona for herself but it is Gideon she thinks of (could be Harrow but if another person prioritises Harrow over Gideon I will go mental) when she wonders if "she" had birthdays on the Ninth

just thinking about Pyrrha and the time she spent pretending to be G1deon, knowing that Gideon's corpse is there. the scene where she and Nona are standing next to corpse Kiriona is making me insane

Nor had Pyrrha ever looked at her the way she now looked at the dead corpse with red hair—a kind of soft, guarded want; a hunger—a living desire to take the corpse in her arms like Kevin’s wanting desire with his dolls. To own, to squeeze, to cosset and destroy.

this one paragraph makes me want to write so many fics exploring their dynamic, it's criminal how there are only 30 fics tags Gideon Nav & Pyrrha Dve. what do you mean there is sentence that goes as hard as "a hunger—a living desire to take the corpse in her arms" and people aren't writing long ass fics about it??

I need to reread Nona for their interactions when I am less busy but Gideon watching Pyrrha be kind and gentle with Nona, a parent, and being reminded once again how she was abandoned. and how she is still not anyone's first choice. the unwanted child, just like Crux said

do you think Gideon hated Nona when she watched Pyrrha be so gentle with her? no one had ever shown her this much kindness, no one held as she was dying and she wasn't chosen the way Pyrrha chose to shoot Ianthe with the bullet she was saving for John. do you think she despised that stranger in Harrow's body because she envied how loved she was while telling herself it's because Nona is squatting in Harrow's body?

I am very rarely interested in parent/child relationship but god does Gideon have fascinatingly messed up relationships with literally every parent figure in her life

thank you for allowing me to rant <3 I have so many thoughts about them

Gideon and Pyrrha should have emotionally charge pseudo incestuous sex who said that

Nodding along so hard to all of this while losing my brain cells one at a time.

It's been long enough since I read the books that I'd need a full reread to actually contribute to this conversation in any meaningful way, but Pyrrha and her relationships with both Wake and Gideon are hands down my favourite in the series—and for good fucking reason. It's delicious enough in Harrow, but Nona takes it up a notch by giving us Gideon and Pyrrha interactions that are jagged and awkward and frankly painful, despite being so brief and so few.

Never going to be over the fact that Pyrrha wanted that kid so bad, and then Gideon came into the scene in time to watch her tenderly parent whoever's walking around in her lesbian situationship's body.

Nona sees how Pyrrha looks at that corpse; she understands it. Gideon never does.

Tamsyn Muir, your mind 🙇

(I was going to say I'm also rarely interested in parent/child relationships and that we all know what happens when I start, but you beat me to it lmaooo. With how Gideon presumably resembles Wake to an extent and how her relationship with Pyrrha is already half momfucker jokes and tragic yearning, it'd be so very pseudo-incestuous and so bad for everyone involved. It would still be less fucked up than whatever the Tridentarii twins have going on.)

[astrok1dz]

EJJEEKRKKR RARARA SO LIKE I JUST FOUND UR ACCOUNG AND IM INLOVE WITH THE WAY YOU WRITE FOR DOE,

Can I get a doe x schizo reader who has a breakdown everytime they hallucinate something:33

A/n: y’all make me smile sm with your silly lil requests ily all

by the way, i am not schizophrenic, so i apologise for being very generic about it in this fic, but i don’t want to get things wrong or stereotypical, so the reader will experience auditory hallucinations

John Doe with a schizophrenic S/O!

He didn’t know what it meant

You see things? Shadows? People that are not there? Bugs? Whatever you hallucinate? Oh no it’s normal, you’re living in Uncanny Valley after all!

“I see those things all the time too!”

You had to sit him down and have a long talk with him.

Tell him how before you moved to Uncanny Valley you’d still see and hear these things that weren’t there in reality.

Poor boy doesn’t understand anything, but he’s trying his best.

After showing him some more visual simulations you found on the internet (and explaining how hallucinations are different for each person) he could grasp the concept of it enough to try and help you

“SHIT MY MEDS-”

“Oh, I bought more yesterday!”

“What.”

“What? :3”

He makes sure you never run out of your meds, so, since he’s got quite nothing to do (apart from adoring you, of course), he makes sure to buy more one day before they run out, so you’re never lacking them!

He’s also your personal reminder to take them.

“Darling, did you take your meds yet?” - Doe’s just standing there with the pills in one hand and your favorite drink in the other. He doesn’t care if you take them dry, he wants to at least cheer you up.

He’ll also do more research while you’re at work, looking into side effects for your meds, just in case. Will also look for therapists, psychiatrists, and anything that might help you.

This guy’s moto is “It’s the least I can do!”

One day you come home from work, where you had already struggled enough. At least your home is a safe place, and today couldn’t get any worse anyway. Unfortunately, you were wrong about that.

You started hallucinating, hearing voices un hushed whispers. They didn’t necessarily say bad things, but it was just too much noise to handle. Like you couldn’t even hear your own thoughts or distinguish them. Torture.

“Love!”

Along came John, smiling all giddy, ecstatic about you being home, already wrapping his arms around you.

You bumped your head repeatedly against his shoulder, covering your ears, and he immediately understood, having you stop the harming action you inflicted upon yourself and holding you gently.

“What’s wrong? What are you seeing?”

“I’m not really seeing anything right now, but there’s too much going on and too much noise and-”, you explained, hyperventilating and tearing up as you did.

He didn’t exactly get the hang on how to help you, but Doe tried his best to ground you. He went to the kitchen and came back with some ice, making you hold it to ground yourself.

“I read online that this could help, since it’s so cold it distracts you.”

You weren’t quite sure if it would work, but the fact that he looked this up just to help you already made you feel a little better.

Prepare for an afternoon where he’ll be basically your servant, ordering your favorite food and drink, putting on your comfort shows, cuddling you, painting your nails, and hugging you as he hums little tunes so you can try and listen to him instead of all the voices in your head.

Doe was better for you than any of the meds you take.

Ps: (You made sure to tell him so).

[galactic-pirates]

NoTP?

Is there a character or ship you were so sure you would never write/draw but now you've changed your mind?

Go onto your AO3. Which ship have you written for the most? The least? Does this correspond to who you consider your "favourite?"

Thank you! ❤️

3) NoTP?

Generally speaking I try not to think about what I don’t like, I prefer to focus on what I do - love not hate you know.

The most recent that I absolutely can not stand is Shaw/Seven. Just writing it down and contemplating it makes me feel sick. An original from years ago that I can’t stand is Trip/T’Pol (both from Star Trek). I am tempted to say Wyatt and Lucy from Timeless but honestly I only came to utterly loathe that in the later parts of season 2. Oh and can’t forget Hook and Emma from Once.

There are probably others but as I said I try and not think about it. Also this is just my opinion. There’s an expression “don’t want to yuck someone else’s yum”. I am old school fandom really about ‘staying in my lane’. I might not like ships but I have nothing against shippers.

14) Is there a character or ship you were so sure you would never write/draw but now you've changed your mind?

Answered here :)

21) Go onto your AO3. Which ship have you written for the most? The least? Does this correspond to who you consider your "favourite?"

I have 41 fics tagged for Rumbelle (Once). The next one is Helen/John/James (Sanctuary) with 8. The lowest is Flynn/Lucy (Timeless). This is entirely because I did the bulk of my fanfic writing when I was in my ‘Rumbelle era’. Not anything to do with favourite.

I actually wrote a post about this on tumblr (probably more than one to be honest) about how it hurt my soul a little bit that it didn’t feel like I had shown Helen/John/James the same amount of love. It was never about the level of obsession just where I was in my life.

I don’t know if I can really say that any ship is a favourite above the others. Obsessions wax and wane, fondness remains. At different times of my life, different ships have hit me hard. Some pairings have endured for longer in terms of fandom participation but there are so many factors at play for that. Rumbelle definitely isn’t my current favourite, I can say that at least.

Bonus question because you had a repeat :)

4) Is there a popular pairing you don't necessarily dislike but aren't too invested in?

Many probably. I mean unless I out and out hate it, or I’m obsessed, there’s a lot of middle ground that encompasses everything else. I am trying to think of an example. Oh! The Leverage OT3. That’s a good example. They are obviously family and very important to one another, and Hardison and Parker are very sweet together on the show. I can see why people like all three of them together romantically. I’m not against it but I’m not invested either. I am comfortable with just how they are, because the bond between them is so strong.

[set-phasers-to-whump]

rest and recovery

prompt: "take it easy"

whumpee: john reese

fandom: person of interest

hi here's the follow-up to this fic from day 7. hope you like it!!

John wakes up and he does not know where he is or why he is there. His surroundings are strange, vaguely medical but not hospital-like. His whole body aches and breathing itself hurts, although he can feel that there’s some sort of drug pumping through his system. 

He needs to get out of this room. Needs to figure out who else is nearby. Needs to know what has happened to him. 

He sits up, pulls the IV out of his arm, swings his aching legs over the side of the bed. 

He stands up and his body protests. Hard. His legs all but give out beneath him and his head spins and he tries to fight it off, should be able to fight it off, but everything feels awful and he only just barely manages to sink down and sit on the edge of the bed instead of hitting the floor.

His ears are ringing and everything is fuzzy and he doesn’t realize that someone else is there until there’s a hand on his arm. 

He jumps, hands instinctively reaching around him for something, anything to use as a weapon, and then -

“Take it easy, Mr. Reese. It’s only me.”

Finch. 

The fight drains out of him and he relaxes quickly. If Finch is here, everything is more or less okay. He’s safe, that much is certain. 

“I’m sorry I startled you. That was rather foolish of me.”

John shakes his head. “I should have known you were here.” Why hadn’t he realized someone else was in the room? 

“You’ve been through quite an ordeal,” Finch says. “It’s perfectly understandable that your senses aren’t operating at their usual capacity.”

He should be fine, shouldn’t be weak like this, no matter what Finch says about his having been through an ordeal, which in any case he does not remember at all. 

“I need to -” Need to stand up and get out of here, need to get back to work, need to be fine.

Finch stops him, seeming to know exactly what it is he’s thinking. “The only thing you need to do is rest and let yourself heal. The Machine and I can manage on our own for a little while longer.”

He doesn’t - he should be fine. Should refuse to lie around uselessly when he’s awake, healing process be damned. 

But despite his mind’s insistence that he should be getting up right this very second, his body is exhausted and hurting. And beneath his deeply ingrained training, there is a person who, though he himself does not remember it, has very recently been close to death. 

“You’re sure?” He both wants and does not want what Finch is offering. He needs to know if everything will really be okay without him. 

“I’m sure. Rest, John.”

Finch puts a hand on his shoulder, gentle and certain, and John, without fully knowing why, does as he says. 

thanks for reading!! with that i am now a whumptober completionist for five years straight! i cannot believe i made it through the month and i also cannot believe how long it's been since i first started doing this event...it's crazy tbh. i had a great time writing this month and i hope you enjoyed whichever of my fics you happened to read! love you all <33333

[wildwren]

Thought you were a Bridgerton hater?!?

What are your highlights?

Lolololol this is so funny, I’ve had an up and down relationship with Bridgerton but you literally could not PAY me not to watch it. if there’s one thing about me it’s that I WILL be invested in a soapy period romance.

I think the post you’re talking about is the one where I claimed Henry Fielding writes consent better than Julia Quinn and you know what, I stand by it. (and if I’m being honest, Bridgerton owes as much to Henry Fielding as it does to Jane Austen, but no one wants to have that conversation do they!!!) ANYWAY.

Okay okay, Season 3 has given me full on brainrot. I’m invested in Polin now???? Help???????? This is mostly fueled by my unspeakable horniness for Nicola Coughlan but also I think it’s a really strong season so far, I like the conflict and the stakes as well as the rom-com vibes, and I feel like it’s dramatic without being all about The Drama.

My favorite thing however is the GAY DRAMA and by that I mean the toxic exes dynamic between Penelope and Eloise, the bitch4bitch Creloise courtship, and the lesbian friendship triangle between Pen, Eloise, and Cressida. I’m also invested in the emotional triangulation between Pen, Colin, and Eloise (what can I say? I love a good triangle) and I’m really excited to see how that shakes out in Part 2. And no I’m definitely not writing a toxic modern gothic Cressida x Eloise x Penelope (x Colin) fic I don’t Know what you’re talking about that must be someone else

Other highlights are Francesca and John, I looove the way they’ve characterized Fran and developed that relationship so far. Bad news for me is that I’ve also become a full-on tin foil hat Michaela Stirling truther which doesn’t bode well for my mental health either way. I would actually kill to see it but also the full on lesbophobic meltdown the fandom would have would probably cost me several years of life sooooo

ANYWAY yes I am very much invested in Bridgerton Season 3 with my clown makeup FULLY ON thank you for asking!!!!

[jakowskis]

Day 15 - Are there any ships you dislike?

alrighty so. there are only rlly four i ‘dislike’, and the first three… it’s more complicated than anything, it’s not entirely utter pure-n-simple disdain. it’s less about the ships themselves (in two of the cases, anyway) and more about how they seem to be perceived by the fandom + how much they dominate everything. other ships exist, guys! the other characters exist! anyway ill try not to be mean but i am gonna be petty, lol

so for starters, yeah, jack x ianto. i have a very specific view of it, that i do enjoy, but the fandom seems to be doing something else entirely and i've developed some resentment despite myself. especially bc it’s overrated as fuck. don’t get me wrong, it’s iconic, as far as being culturally significant gay rep, but if im honest idk how well they hold up in 2024? i thought their relationship in s1 and s2 of the show was lackluster at best. poorly written bread crumbs. and yeah i know it was big for 2006 but im just personally kind of offended that they could show them sucking face but not show the intricacies of why the hell ianto would fall for a guy who shot his girlfriend down?? like, their relationship is inherently dark and angsty to me and im interested in exploring that, bc the show certainly doesn’t (initially) bother to, and a lot of the fan content i see is either fluffy (??????????), or angsty in a Tragique way, or is just kind of… fetishy and whumpy? people slot them into a Specific Kind of Dynamic and it grosses me tf out. so the fandom culture rubs me wrong, and then it’s just… such a bummer to like owen and tosh and gwen in a fandom that only seems to prioritize this one ship. there are 22k fics in the torchwood ao3 tag, and 13k of them are janto. now, all that being said… they do intrigue me and endear me, just a bit. but it took the audios to make me give a fuck about them, which is sad. 

on that same note - i have the same relationship with tosh x owen, but i'm significantly less fond of it, cuz it just plain rubs me wrong. i like them in theory, so i spent months trying to figure out how to make them work and what other people are seeing that they think is so endearing and cute - i just can't find it. owen's treatment of tosh is just about the only thing i can't stand about him. he treats everyone poorly, but most of the rest of the cast defends themself (or even hit back, like ianto and gwen, and thats why i ship them with him! it’s spicy! i love balanced unhealthy dynamics in fiction hfdsjkf i can’t lie) - but tosh just lets him, creating an unhealthy power imbalance where she’s just getting hurt over and over again, and it makes me wanna fucking punch him cuz she does Not deserve that. i want him far away from her lmao. except under certain circumstances, cuz i have written fic about them, and i’ve read like three rlly good ones (and the main link between them is tosh stands up for herself and puts him in his place! i HATE how he walks all over her in canon ughhhhhhhhh). additionally, i do admittedly enjoy the angst of their canon arc. i just think fandom throwing them together and making it cutesy is lazy, uncreative, and an injustice to both characters. i think the SHOW throwing them together was an injustice to both characters, especially tosh’s. they're tragic and compelling, ill give them that, but theyre not sweet, and i don't think they'd be good for each other. 

(also worth noting on a show where everyone has tension w each other, imo barrowman & gareth and naoko & burn pull it off the least convincingly and have little to no chemistry. like every other duo just kind of sparks in some way or another, and neither of those duos do. which SUCKS bc they’re the canon ones. but it’s also heavily poor writing like they were doing the best w what they had. grr. like i still dont know what the fuck ianto likes about jack or what tosh likes about owen �� that’s ridiculous!)

the other ship i’m petty about is jack x john hart. i just think it’s far too popular for what it is. idek why that is, do we have a substantial amount of buffy fans in the fandom? don’t get me wrong, i liked john in the show + i liked their relationship as well, but i'll always be annoyed when a minor character gets more attention than the fascinating main ones. 

and lastly i hate john x ianto, because i respect ianto, lmao. i can’t lie, if he was my fav i’d probs ship it HJFKDSHFK i love putting my favs in awful situations. but as is it just grosses me out. get him outta there!! 

tldr: i don’t interact w the john hart side of the fandom, and if a fic is tagged 'jack/ianto tosh/owen gwen/rhys' i probably won’t read it 😷

[scorchedhearth]

🖊🌙👖🌝🧠 pls <3

🖊 Post a snippet from a current WIP.

He shoves Hal away and resumes his pacing, and he purposefully uses his claws to dig at the ground and turn it up with anger. Hal knows he’s minutes from bolting and resuming his frantic run through the forest like he was before he found him, which is the exact opposite of what he wants.

“Hey, come on. Stay with me. You’re hearing me?” Hal walks up to Guy’s face, stopping him in his tracks once more. He plants his feet down and stares at him straight in the eyes. In his wolf form, he’s big enough that he has to lean his head down to look at Hal, which is what he does right now. “Dawn is close, and you know if you don’t calm down you’ll have a crap change and then you’ll throw a hiss, and neither of us wants that.”

The wolf is growling again, snapping his maw but he stands still, allowing Hal to put a hand on his snout and keep it there.

thank u friend <33

fanfic asks

🌙  What time of day do you prefer to write? Why?

evening/night, that’s when i have the most free time, and since it’s a hobby i do to relax it’s better to write after the day imo, i can take as much time as i want and focus only on that. i do have ideas throughout the day but i write short notes and only work on those later

👖 Are you a planner, plantser, or pantser? Is it consistent?

planner, not as extreme as some people or even as i used to be, because i’ve learned overplanning to the smallest details makes me feel stuck and unable to write at all, but i definitely plan beforehand, at least the beginning and end and rough arcs, sometimes more it depends on the amount of plot/if it’s action rich or less if it's a more moody piece. it’s pretty consistent too, be it for small drabbles or big multi-chapter fics i need a clear outline to know where im going

🌝 Who is one character you haven’t yet written for that you would like to?

i’d love to write poison ivy, haven’t read enough of her yet to feel comfortable doing so but there’s so much fun to be had with her, her character and the constant tug between humanity and plants she has in her and trying to write as more than the sexy killer she's portrayed as in many stories. another character i wanna write is john constantine for the same reasons, the struggles between his hope and the state of the world, there’s a lot to be done with the tired optimist and i do love a good miserable and pathetic character, once im further in my hellblazer reading

🧠 What’s an idea you have that you can’t quite call a WIP yet?

i’ve been thinking about hal jordan and cowboys lately and i really wanna write something with that, i’m not sure if i want a proper au where he’s an actual cowboy or just use it as inspiration for his place in a contemporary world, but im haunted by the image of hal walking along a long road in the middle of a desert, all alone with his jacket and a small bag, nothing else, no one else by his side

🖊 Post a snippet from a current WIP.

from the one im focusing on more now, something just for me hehe

He shoves Hal away and resumes his pacing, he purposefully uses his claws to dig at the ground and turn it up with anger. Hal knows he’s minutes from bolting and resuming his frantic run through the forest like he was before he found him, which is the exact opposite of what he wants.

“Hey, come on. Stay with me. You’re hearing me?” Hal walks up to Guy’s face, stopping him in his tracks once more. He plants his feet down and stares at him straight in the eyes. In his wolf form, he’s big enough that he has to lean his head down to look at Hal, which is what he does right now. “Dawn is close, and you know if you don’t calm down you’ll have a crap shift and then you’ll throw a hiss, and neither of us wants that.”

The wolf is growling again, snapping his maw but he stands still, allowing Hal to put a hand on his snout and keep it there.

[downstarr]

Revenge of Oak Island

After discovering a massive treasure in a wrecked Spanish galleon, the crew of the Revenge debates how best to conceal their booty. Ed leads them north, towards a small island off the coast of mainland Nova Scotia called Oak Island. There, they inadvertently lay the seeds of a legend that will last for hundreds of years and drive men to obsession. --- This is an adventure fic where the crew of the Revenge is responsible for the mysteries of Oak Island and the origin of the myth of buried treasure - mostly by being their delightfully idiotic selves.

---

Chapter 1: A Galleon of Treasure

“That’s a lot of treasure.”

“An understatement if there ever was one, cap’n.”

“I’ve never seen so much money.”

“We shouldn’t stand around here staring at it like a bunch of slack-jawed idiots. Let’s pack up this shit and take it.”

“Jim, hold on…let’s think about this. Is this treasure worth the price that will get put on our heads if we take it?”

“It’s so…beautiful…”

“They gotta figure out it was us first.”

“Why don’t we…?”

“Oi,” Ed let out a sharp whistle to draw the crew’s attention back to him. They all collectively startled at the short, sharp sound. The crew had weathered a hurricane by sheltering in a small cove, but a Spanish galleon hadn’t been so lucky. The galleon, for some inexplicable reason, had been carrying a small fortune in its hold. That fortune was now spread out in front of the Revenge’s crew, on a small, sheltered beach. The galleon had gone aground, its belly torn open with jagged rocks, gold and jewels spilled out on the sand like shimmering guts. “What part of ‘pirate ship’ makes you think this is a democracy?”

“Actually, em, the pirate code does give us many rights and privileges. especially, the right to…” Lucius suddenly stopped himself when he saw the way Ed was glaring at him. He hugged his ledger close to his chest. “Right. Right, not a democracy, yes sir.”

Ed sidled up to Stede, who was staring at the booty with a mixture of awe and terror. He hooked his fingers in his beltloops and then leaned in towards his co-captain. “What do you reckon?”

Stede swallowed. The Revenge had been having difficulties making ends meet since he gave up his fortune. So this, was in many ways, a true windfall. But it was risky. “I think someone very powerful owns this treasure.”

“Captains.” Wee John stuck his hand in the air. “Can I say something?”

“Yes, Mister Feeney?” said Stede.

“I used to be signed onto a ship that would search for shipwrecks after storms. This one was definitely on our route. So I’d suggest whatever we’re doin’...” John looked around at the crew, “...we do it quick-like. Or we’re going to have to fight for it.”

Stede glanced at Ed and pursed his lips. He leaned in to murmur, “Can we risk it? If we load all this treasure, we’re going to be weighed down. We’re going to have a hell of a time spending it, especially since a lot of this looks like family jewels that can be identified. Which means…”

“...which means we’ll be sailing around with a hold full of stolen goods.”

“And whoever this stuff belongs to, isn’t going to give a damn about salvage rights.”

Ed grunted in affirmation. He looked up at the crew, who were standing around expectantly. Black Pete had already started toeing at the treasure, fingers twitching in anticipation. After a glance from Stede, who nodded, indicating he was deferring the decision, he raised his voice. “Get to work. Get as much of this loot as we can carry into the hold. Any coin goes to Frenchie for inventory and adding to the ship’s ledger. All the other identifiable items, I want you to crate up. Don’t write that shit down…” he pointed at Lucius. “As far as anyone knows, we just came across a small amount of coin.”

“And the rest?” asked Stede.

“The rest…we stash for now.” said Ed. “Until the heat dies down. And we sell it bit by bit. I’ve got some contacts.”

“Where will we stash the loot?” asked Black Pete. 

Ed considered the options. Most of his usual hiding places would be watched once word got out that there was this much loot in play. But there was one option. “We sail north.”

“...how far north?” asked Lucius.

“Mr Buttons. Plot a course for Nova Scotia.”

—

As the Revenge sailed north, the clear blue waters of the Caribbean slowly gave way to the darker waters as south Atlantic slowly turned to north. The crew, who were not used to the cold breeze of the open ocean, went about their duties with even more grousing than usual. It was still summer, but they were all very acclimated to the weather in tropical climates. 

“You’d all best get used to this,” said Ed as he swaggered across the deck toward the helm. He was actually comfortable for once. The leathers insulated him from the snap in the air. “It’s going to get a bit colder. We have to stay in open water and away from the shipping lanes. Which means rougher seas and northern winds.”

Stede waddled up to Ed. He was wearing a very impressive wool jacket with a puffy fur collar that swallowed up his face so he was nothing but a halo of ermine and blond hair. 

“Aw come on, mate. It’s not that cold. You should take off some layers and let yourself get used to the little bit of chill. You’re never going to need fucking furs. It’s summer in Canada.”

“It is? I didn’t think they did summer.”

“That’s a myth. It’s actually pretty nice. It’s just the open water that’s a bit nippy.” 

Reluctantly, Stede shed his outer fur coat. He draped it on a railing. No sooner had he done so than Lucius picked it up.

“Ah, thank you, Mr. Spriggs! Back in the closet with that!” 

“Screw that,” said Lucius as he shrugged it on. “I’m fucking wearing this.” He wriggled into the giant coat and snapped the fur collar around his face. 

Stede opened his mouth to protest, but Lucius had already sashayed away. He rubbed his hands together and shifted close to Ed, close enough that he could pick up on some of his body heat and use him as a wind break. “Em…why are we going to Nova Scotia? It seems a long way to go.”

“I’ve got a hiding place there,” said Ed. “One that no one knows about, but is easy enough to get to. We’ll stash the stuff there and come back for it in a couple of months. It’ll be easier to sell identifiable pieces up that way anyway. I might be able to reach out to some old contacts when the time comes.” 

“Sirs,” said Buttons as he walked up to the captains. He stood at attention, chin up. “Roach informs me that with the route we’ve got plotted, we won’t have enough provisions to make it all the way there. It would also be prudent to have certain safe harbours identified in case we encounter poor weather. The route we’ve chosen takes us out of the main shipping lanes, aye. But there’s a reason for that. We’re more likely to hit rough waters and squalls.”

“I anticipated that, Mr. Buttons,” said Ed with his usual swaggering confidence. “We’ll turn due west after about two days of sailing. I”ll provide you with coordinates. I’ve got a friend who can resupply us. It’ll cost us, but I’m actually hoping to fence a few of the pieces to her at the same time.”

“Aye, cap’n,” said Buttons. “Very good.”

Stede leaned in towards Ed. “Was that really in the original plan?” he whispered.

“Fuck, no,” Ed admitted with a nose wrinkle. “I just thought of it right now. But one of the rules of captaining is to always make them think you’re more prepared than you are.”

Stede beamed. “Ah, brilliant.” And then, with a quick shoulder-check to see if anyone was looking, he pecked Ed on the cheek. 

—

The makeshift brig below decks was actually one of the warmer parts of the ship. Izzy Hands had felt the air grow colder even from his cell. After Ed and Stede had reunited, there was a lot of debate about what to do with him. In the end, mercy won out. 

Though Izzy didn’t really call being kept prisoner in the belly of a ship full of idiots mercy. Death wasn’t exactly preferable, but an English jail or being stranded would be better as far as he was concerned.

Izzy heard footsteps as someone descended the steep wooden steps from above deck. Oluwande appeared, followed by Jim, who had their knife out and in hand. Olu was holding a wool blanket. 

“On your feet. You know the drill. Back to the wall.”

Izzy glared at both of them, then slowly unfolded himself and complied. “Well, that confirms we’re sailing north,” he rasped as he eyed the blanket.

Jim unlocked the cell, and Oluwande stepped in. He tossed the blanket towards the sleeping platform, then turned to leave. “That’s none of your concern.”

“None of my concern?” Izzy chuckled. “I’d say it fucking is seeing as I’m on this ship.”

“You’re cargo,” growled Jim, “...not crew.”

Only after the cell door was secured did Izzy move away from the wall and approach the bars. He slid his hands around the bars and leaned in towards the pair. “Where are we going?”

“If you want to know that, you can ask the captain,” said Olu.

Izzy’s jaw clenched. “He won’t see me.”

“Tough shit for you, then,” said Jim.

—

“I do hope that your friend can supply us with more blankets, furs, and warmer clothing. I’ve lent out every one of my frock coats from my much-depleted wardrobe to the crew. And the more they wear them doing general pirating, the more I worry for the silks.” said Stede as he spread out a fur over their shared bed.

“Once again, we’re not sailing into the fucking arctic, Stede. It’s not going to get much colder than this,” said Ed. Despite his own assurances that it wasn’t that cold, even he’d swapped out his one-armed leather jacket for a calf-length one decorated with bits of snakeskin that Stede had made for him as an apology gift. The jacket was lined in purple and had purple stones as catches. It looked grand and intimidating but was much too warm for the Caribbean. For their current waters, it was perfect. 

“Maybe not, but…” Stede stepped up to Ed and slid his arms around Ed. “...feel me!” And he pressed ice cold hands against the small of Ed’s back.

Ed jumped and shivered like someone just dropped chunks of ice down his shirt. “Ahh, yeah, you’re chilled.” Instead of shifting away, he let Stede’s hands steal warmth from his body. Slowly, he wrapped his arms around him. 

“This is my fault,” murmured Stede. “If I hadn’t given up my fortune, we wouldn’t have to be dealing with hot booty.”

Ed snort-laughed. “Stede…that’s what pirating is all about. C’mon, it’ll be an adventure.”

Stede looked up at Ed and smiled. “I’m sure it will be.” And then he kissed him gently. 

—

As promised, two days later, the Revenge tacked towards the coast. It was just as well, as Buttons detected strange clouds on the horizon. 

“What do you reckon the shape of those clouds be?” asked Buttons as he handed the spyglass over to Ed.

Ed examined the shape of the clouds. “Barnacles.”

“Storm’s a-brewin.” 

“Not brewing,” said Ed. “That’s the same one that sunk the galleon. We’ve just caught up with it.” Read Chapter 2

[runnning-outof-time]

Research | Tommy Shelby x Reader

Request: no - for @zablife ‘s 600 followers celebration

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x reader

Summary: Tommy enlists a librarian named (Y/N) to help him with research on his latest opponents.

Warnings: language, smoking, mentions of drinking

Word Count: 3109

A/N: this was a very self-indulgent fic to write because I thoroughly enjoy research and would love to be a librarian. Congrats on 600 followers again, Lee! Enjoy! :)

I’D LOVE TO KNOW WHAT YOU THINK! - YOUR COMMENTS & REBLOGS HELP ME WRITE!

Let me know if you’d like to be tagged in future stories similar to this one!

(Y/N) was so busy working on re-cataloguing the returned books that she hadn't even noticed someone had approached the library's front desk. It wasn't until that person cleared their throat that she looked up. "Oh, I'm sorry, sir. How can I help you?" she apologetically asked the man standing across from her. He was dressed in a suit with an overcoat on top of it and was wearing a peaked cap.

"Can you help me find a book?" he asked her as he set his hands on the desk and leaned against them.

"Do you have a title?" (Y/N) asked, a polite smile on her face now.

"No. My sister said it was about the bastards that ran away," he gave her the little information that he did have. (Y/N) couldn't help but laugh slightly at his words.

"I'm gonna go out on a limb here and say that that's not its title," she pointed out the obvious before continuing, "you said sister...does she work here?"

The man nodded his head. "She does. Her name's Ada."

Realization flashed in (Y/N)'s eyes. "Shelby," she filled in the last name, "which means you're either Arthur, John, Thomas, or Finn," she then rattled off names before blushing slightly, "Ada talks about your family regularly."

"I'm Thomas," he told her, a slight smile playing on his lips, "but Tommy works too."

"Well it's nice to meet you, Thomas. My name's (Y/N)," she formally introduced herself then. "Now can you tell me what the topic of the book you're looking for is? Maybe that'll help narrow it down."

"The Russian Revolution," he gave her the information she was looking for and she nodded her head before she came around the desk and waved her hand for him to follow her.

"You're interested in history?" she asked him, her voice lowered now that they were walking amongst the shelves of books as well as the other patrons who were busy reading.

"Not necessarily..." he trailed off, his loud voice earning shushes in response, "just wanted to broaden me mind," he continued talking at the same volume level as before, unbothered by the disgruntled people.

(Y/N) only nodded her head as she brought him further into the library. She then stopped upon a shelf that she thought would have the book she was looking for. She looked at all of the options before grabbing the ladder and sliding it over to where the book she needed was. Then she climbed the rungs, grabbed it, and brought it back down for the man standing next to her. "Is this your book?" she asked, holding the small, red-covered book out in front of her.

"It is. Thank you," Tommy nodded his head before he took the book from her hand.

"You're welcome, Tommy," she smiled at him, happy to have helped him find the book he needed, "I'll be back at the desk...if you need help with anything," she then told him, jerking her thumb in the direction they'd come from.

"I'll come to you if I do," he nodded once more, a smile pulling at the corner of his lips as she then turned and walked away. He watched her go for a few moments before he found an empty table and sat at it. Then he opened the book and began reading.

"Good afternoon, (Y/N)...I was wondering if you'd be able to help me find some more books." The sudden voice came out of nowhere and it made (Y/N) jump; the pen in her hand went flying and the papers she had neatly stacked next to her book got disheveled as she set her hands on the desk to steady herself.

"You scared me, Tommy!" she exclaimed, knowing who the voice belonged without even having to look up. She had his voice stuck in her head since he first came to the library a week ago.

"Sorry," he apologized, although there was still a smirk on his lips. (Y/N) shook her head at his amused expression, unable to keep the smile from her features. "I need you to help me find some more books," he then repeated the second half of his original sentence.

"Ok," (Y/N) nodded before she went to the project that she was in the process of working on, "let me clean up what I was working on and we'll go see what we can find," she said as she made sure that her materials were in a neatly stacked pile before she came around the desk. "Follow me," she told him, waving him along as she walked through the shelves.

Soon enough, they were at a table with a few books stacked atop each other. Tommy had the same red-covered book in front of him again, and he was flipping through the pages as (Y/N) watched him intently. "You seem to like that book," she commented after a few quiet moments.

"It has the information that I need," Tommy answered her without looking up.

"But you've asked me to find you more books..." (Y/N) pointed out, trailing off as if the statement was a thought.

"I wanted to see if I could find more information," he responded, finally looking up at her. She lost her train of thought the second his blue eyes locked onto hers, and it took a moment to snap out of the trance that they'd brought on.

"I can help you find some," she told him after she finally managed to rip her focus away from his stare.

"Yeah?" he asked, his eyebrows raising slightly. She nodded and then picked her chair up so that she could bring it right next to his. Tommy glanced down at its placement, they were sitting rather close together now, but he didn't comment on it.

"Yes," (Y/N) affirmed with another slight nod before she motioned to the book. Tommy understood what she was getting at and let her take it from him. She then flipped to the back of the book and began scouring through the source notes that were present there. "Is there anything specific that you're looking for?" she asked him after she'd been flipping through the pages for a few moments.

"A man; named Leon Petrovich Romanov," Tommy answered her and she began flipping through the pages once more, "I'm interested in his dealings in Russia...wanted to find out more than just who he is," he continued as she then reached over for another book and started flipping through it.

"Any specific reason?" she asked out of curiosity as she then started searching through the book's index.

Tommy sucked in a breath and let it out, taking a moment to decide if he wanted to disclose any information to her before he responded, "I've been asked to work with him...I wanted to know more about what I'm getting myself into," he gave her a broad response.

She took it without further question and pulled a third book in front of her. Several moments passed before she finally stopped flipping through the pages and looking in his direction. "I've found some stuff that may be useful to you," she informed him. Tommy raised his eyebrows at her statement, his nonverbal way of asking her to continue. "There's information in this book about his family, his role in the Russian Revolution, and the people that he's been linked to," she then listed off the topics of information that she found. Tommy nodded along as she spoke. "The trick to finding more information and sources is looking at the notes included at the back of the book. Everyone skips over them really, but they help a great deal when you need to corroborate your evidence."

Tommy was impressed by her words. "You seem like you know what you're talking about," he commented.

"I'd hope so...I'm studying literature at university at the moment and my professors would have my head if I didn't know how to use an entire book properly," she told him, laughing slightly as she remembered all of her professors' lectures on the parts a book had.

"Literature?" Tommy questioned, intrigue in his voice.

(Y/N) nodded. "Yes, literature. American literature to be exact."

"And why American?"

"Because I read Henry David Thoreau's Walden and was instantly hooked," she answered his question, "now I've decided to devote my scholarly work to him."

"Is that what you were working on when I scared you?" he asked her, grinning slightly as he thought back to the reaction he caused.

(Y/N) rolled her eyes at the mention of what happened earlier, a smile forming on her face as she nodded her head slightly. "Yes. I was doing a deeper reading of Walden. My prospectus is focused on the question of whether or not Thoreau truly could have felt complete solitude amongst the woods when he was only living a mile away from civilization during the time of writing Walden, and I'm sorry...I'm probably boring you now," she ended by looking down at the table once more, feeling slightly embarrassed that she had just delved into what most people would find boring.

But Tommy didn't seem to mind. "You're not a bore," he assured her, "actually I wanted to know if you'd like to get a drink and explain to me more about your project," he then smoothly asked her. She was able to tell that there was a grin on his face without even looking at him.

She confirmed what she already knew when she turned her head to look at him. He still had his eyes on her and a half-smirk adorned his lips. She once again got sucked in by his eyes and had to fight hard not to just fall at his feet right there. "I've done my research on you, Tommy," she finally spoke, her voice now lower because they were rather close together.

"Oh yeah?" he started, his eyebrows raising, "what have you found?" he asked as his eyes widened slightly, the intrigue in them evident.

"Nothing good," she held his gaze, shaking her head slightly as an added measure.

Tommy laughed softly and nodded his head to the side, "sounds about right," he agreed with her, his smirk still present.

"I would be interested though," (Y/N) said almost as soon as he was done speaking. She mentally kicked herself for saying her words in a way that seemed desperate...like if she waited a second after he finished his statement, his mind would have been changed.

"Yeah?" his eyes were on hers again. He couldn't deny that he was surprised by her statement. He thought his chances had flown out the window when she hit him with the 'nothing good' line.

"Yes, but I'll have you know that it's because I'd like to tell you more about my work on Thoreau," she said, the second part of her statement making Tommy chuckle.

"Either way, I'll take it," he shrugged his shoulders.

The two first spent some time searching through the books placed on the table. Once they were finished, (Y/N) told her boss that she was leaving and they set out for one of the taverns that were close to the library. They were immediately given one of the finer tables in the establishment and a waiter came over so fast to take their order that (Y/N) couldn't even comment on the amazing service they were getting. Surely it had something to do with Tommy's standing within the city.

With their drinks in front of them, Tommy allowed (Y/N) to tell him more about the project she was working on and what she hoped to get out of it. Then Tommy, while staying mum on most of the finer details of what he was working on, gave (Y/N) some background on why he'd been wanting to do research on the Russian Revolution and the Archduke that he mentioned earlier.

After those topics were out of the way, they talked a bit more about themselves. Their conversation lasted for a long while without them even noticing until one of the managers of the establishment kindly asked for them to leave. They heeded to the request and Tommy graciously offered to walk (Y/N) home, which she accepted with butterflies in her stomach.

At the door to her apartment, she thanked Tommy for a wonderful evening and then pressed a kiss to his cheek. She immediately became embarrassed by her actions and felt that she went too far, but the grin that Tommy was wearing once she pulled away helped to quell her nerves. They bid each other goodnight and Tommy began walking down the hallway, away from her apartment. (Y/N) watched him until she couldn't anymore before turning the key and entering her dwelling with a smile on her face.

"Thomas Shelby, you can't be smoking in here!" (Y/N) hissed as she approached the table he was sitting at. He was focused on the book that lay open on the table, but (Y/N) was focused on the cigarette that was dangling from his lips.

Her voice made him look up. "Hi, love," he greeted her, the nickname he called her by making her insides heat up and a blush travel to her cheeks, but she had to remain calm. There had been more nights filled with drinks and conversation after the first, and now (Y/N) couldn't hide the fact that she may have developed an interest in this man.

"You need to put that cigarette out," she told him, her eyes still trained on it, “and you can’t be smoking here.”

"Didn't know," he mused as he removed it from his lips, exhaling a cloud of smoke as he dropped it to the floor and stamped it out with his shoe. (Y/N) gasped and looked down quickly, relief filling her once she saw that it had been extinguished on the wooden floor rather than carpet.

"Yes you did...I've told you a handful of times before," she told him, unable to stop the smile from forming on her face as he looked at her with a lazy grin. "What are you reading?" she asked him then.

"The same old shit," he replied, motioning to the book on the table before he sighed, "are there any more books on this royal family's involvement in the conflict?" he asked her then. She came around to where he was sitting and peered over his shoulder to get a good look at the book he had all while trying to ignore the sensation of her body brushing against his.

"There might be," she told him, glancing in his direction briefly before she took a step back and straightened out her skirt. "Follow me, I'll help you find some," she said, waiting for him to stand before she started walking through the rows of shelves.

"Should I be worried that you're taking me to the other side of the library?" Tommy commented after they'd been walking for a few moments.

"Shut it, Tommy," (Y/N) hissed, turning to shoot him a glare that she wasn't able to keep up for long due to the stupid grin on his face. Soon enough, she slowed down at a shelf of books. "There should be some amongst these books," she told him, her eyes carefully looking at the books' spines in hopes she'd find what she was looking for. Tommy, on the other hand, was too busy looking at her as he leaned up against the shelf. "Ok, so this one..." she trailed off as she pointed to a book on the shelf, "might have something in it about the family itself, but you said you're looking for something more on their involvement in the revolution, correct?"

"Hmm," was all she received, which made her look at him with raised eyebrows. Her eyes locked with his, engaging her in yet another fight to try and keep her right mind.

"You didn't hear a word I said, did you?" she asked, the startings of a grin playing on her lips.

"No," Tommy shook his head, not even seeing the point in lying. He continued before (Y/N) could say anything, "you looked fuckin' beautiful saying it though," he told her, a grin forming on his lips as he took in her shocked reaction.

"Tommy!" she hissed, her eyes wide as she tried to stop her cheeks from heating up.

"Sorry," he shrugged slightly before he pushed himself off of the shelf. In a swift movement, he managed to take hold of her hips so that he could pull her closer to him; close enough that their noses bumped before (Y/N) managed to steady herself by grabbing onto the lapels of his suit jacket. “Forgive me, eh?” he asked in a whisper, his breath fanning off of her lips as he looked at her through his eyelashes.

(Y/N) looked up at him with wide eyes, her heart practically beating out of her chest. His proximity was making her forget how she even got into this position, but she wasn’t about to waste the chance she’d just been given. Taking a deep breath and hoping for the best, she leaned in and pressed her lips to his. The kiss was soft at first, but then Tommy responded, kissing her with vigor as his grip on her hips tightened. Their lips stayed melded together until (Y/N) pulled back, her lungs screaming for air. She searched his eyes for a moment before exhaling a breath of a laugh and looking at the bookshelf.

“Maybe my research was wrong...” she finally said after a few beats of silence. Tommy’s brows furrowed at her statement, his silent way of asking her to elaborate. “I thought that you spent a lot of time here because you wanted to learn more about the Russian Revolution...when really you were interested in me.”

Her words made Tommy chuckle and shake his head slightly. “You thought I was coming here to read books, eh?” he asked her, quirking an eyebrow as a grin formed on his face.

“Maybe...” she trailed off, her cheeks heating up.

“Love, there ain’t anything I’ll ever be that interested in,” he told her. (Y/N) laughed at his statement before her mouth went dry at the look he was giving her. “Except for you...I’m very interested in you,” he added at the end before he leaned in and kissed her again.

Tagged: @alreadybroken-ts @magicalxdaydream @the-anxious-youth @cloudofdisney @look-at-the-soul @golden-hoax @elenavampire21 @peaky-cillian @mrsalwayswrite @julkaamazing @evita-shelby @lilyrachelcassidy @notyour-valentine @easilyobessedbutflighty @shelbydelrey @december16-1991 @onlydeadcells @peakyswritings @just-a-blackhole @watercolorskyy @strayrockette @peakyduchesss

MASTERLIST

[kwinsispn3]

Racing

anon request: I've read all of your fics and I love them all! Can you please write a dean x sister fic where she is a literal toddler?Like dean and her are just playing and he unknowingly says something that he doesn't expect a toddler to get affected by? that makes her sad and she just runs and stays with sam. And eventually dean confronts her and talks to her? Maybe he could have said that they weren't buddies anymore (playfully of course) but the toddler sister takes it to heart?Thanks! Have a nice day byeeeew

Word Count: 716

Dean’s age- 19 Sam’s age- 15 y/n’s age- 5

A/N: a little au setting where the winchesters grow up with a little sis on the road :3 also hello! I know it’s been a while, I have a few requests to work on and I feel bad I haven’t gotten to them yet but ya know, life lately. Hope everyone is doing well! :)

“Deeean, Deeeaann!” y/n’s little voice echoed through out the room.

“Hey, sweetheart, what’s goin on?”

“Can you play horsies wifth me?” y/n asked sweetly as she held up her toys.

Dean sighed “Yeah, c’mon let’s go ahead.” He sat down.

Having a toddler in the Winchester’s life wasn’t always easy. Sam and Dean wouldn’t trade their little sister for the world, but to have John always in and out during the weeks and leaving y/n in the care of her brothers wasn’t fair to them. 

“Okay, you can be this brown horsie wifth white spots.” y/n held out her plastic toy horse in Dean’s face.

��Wow, this one has really soft hair!” Dean said with a little over excitement. 

“She does, the farmers brush her haiwr every day.” y/n smiled. “Okay, let’s go wriding now.”

“Giddy up horsey!” Dean said as he controlled the toy horse next to y/n’s 

“Dee, no. I have the faster horse, you can’t go in front of me.” y/n put her hand in front of the toys. She always liked to have some sort of order to her playtime, a sense of control which she probably got from Dean. 

“Well I’m older, so my horse is gonna be a little bit faster.” Dean sighed.

“Nuh uh! I have the black horse, like daddy’s car and it’s way faster.” y/n argued.

“I guess we can’t be friends anymore if you think you’re gonna beat me in this race kiddo.” Dean joked. 

Y/n paused and looked at Dean with serious puppy eyes. “You said we’ll always be fwiends.”

“I don’t think that’s the case anymore.” Dean shrugged.

y/n dropped her horse and stood up with tears forming in her eyes. Dean looked up and saw that y/n took him seriously. “N-n-no, y/n/n....”

She walked away to look for Sam who wasn’t anywhere in the motel room, which meant he was outside doing homework on the picnic table as he normally would if it was a nice day.

y/n wasn’t tall enough to look out the window, instead she reached up and turned the doorknob with both hands and spotted Sam outside. Dean was quick to watch her movements as he didn’t want to let her out of his sights. He watched as she ran to Sam who spotted her troubled face.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Sam hunched over to her level, looking like she was about to start crying.

“Dee s-said I’m not his fwiend anymore.” she said through staggered breaths, looking up to Sam.

He lifted her up onto his lap and glanced towards their motel room to see Dean standing in the doorway with a frown. 

“What do you mean? Dean will always be your friend.” Sam reassured as he fixed the hair that was in her face.

“Does that mean you’re not my fwiend...” y/n hiccuped.

“No, no. I’m sure he didn’t mean it.” Sam sighed. It was these moments that he tried to be the best brother he could, he and Dean both. It wasn’t fair to y/n to have to rely on both brothers like parents. 

They each had their own lives to focus on but they knew their situation was different because of unfortunate circumstances. So they did their best to be there for their little sister.

Dean walked over to a grumpy looking y/n. “Sweetheart, I was just joking. You know we’re best buds, right?”

“You’re not vewy funny.”

Sam gave a snarky look to his brother, who shot back at him with an eye roll. 

“You’re right on that one, I’m not very funny.... But, I’m sorry kiddo, can I have a hug?” Dean pleaded.

“Do you pwomise? You’re my fwiend forever?”

“I promise y/n/n.” 

y/n held out her pinky. “I pinky promise too.” Dean smiled. “Now how bout you get back in there, you have a race to win!”

y/n giggled and hopped off Sam’s lap after he placed a kiss on her head, almost forgetting completely what had upset her in the first place.

Sam watched her run back to the room with excitement to resume playing. “You know she’s gonna be the boss when it comes to her horses.” Sam laughed, turning his attention back to his book.

“I won’t overstep next time....” Dean smirked as he turned to follow y/n back inside. 

Tags

@jackjackljaqui ​@hunting-the-grievers @susan-is-in-the-house@flirtyonsie @mersuperwholocked-lowlife @justsomedreaming 

[sixstepsaway]

i would pass away for a "touch me", blackhands, any rating, angsty fic 👀👀

anon when i tell you i started writing this thirty seconds after you sent this because i just. i could just SEE. the scene.

please do not pass away, i want you to enjoy this.

also I SWORE i was going to keep this shorter than the other prompt i've been writing for like a month now but no! they said no!

The Kraken Destroys • M • Blackhands • Also Available on AO3

The Kraken is angry, waves of fury crashing against the shore as it tears apart the already emptied-out cabin. There’s nothing left to destroy, but it tries anyway, wanting nothing to be left when it’s done.

“How can this have happened?” it snarls in Edward’s voice, rounding on Izzy, standing a few paces back, closer to the door than he usually stands, resting partially on his cane. “How did you let this happen?”

Izzy’s face shifts. “They crept out in the dead of night when all the crew were asleep save for Fang on the wheel. He didn’t hear them. They took the dinghy and left.”

The Kraken destroys more. It yanks the curtains down and shreds them, and then it storms closer, grabs Izzy by the back of his neck and bounces him off the empty bookshelves before he can resist, as if he ever does.

Izzy yells in pain, blood streaming from above his eye and down his face. His balance is lost, he tumbles down towards the ground, but the Kraken stops him, yanking him up by the collar and drawing back to strike.

Izzy flinches.

It’s only there for a minuscule second, a fleeting, horrible moment where his face contorts and he tries in vain to jerk back from the grip around his throat, half held aloft by it. He closes his eyes, expecting the strike, and when it doesn’t come he doesn’t open them, doesn’t look to see the face of the beast looming over him.

Ed jolts back, releasing his hold on Izzy and staggering back a few steps.

Izzy crumbles to the floor, falls like a sack of potatoes, his kneecaps meeting the wood with a crack. He lowers his head. He still doesn’t open his eyes.

He’s wrung dry, Ed can see that now. He’s taken and taken and Izzy has let him, he’s let him take until he has nothing left to give. He’s taken his toe, he’s pulled blood from his veins, he’s destroyed him inside and out, all to sate a beast that should never have been allowed free to begin with.

“How do I fix this?” is what Ed ends up croaking out through his suddenly dry throat. “Just— just tell me how I fix this.”

Izzy laughs then, hollow and scooped out. “Fix what?” he says. “They’re gone. They’ve been gone hours, there’s no way we’ll find them on the ocean. We don’t even know which way they went. What do you want to fix?”

They left because of the beast, because of the Kraken, because of what it did.

Because of what Ed did. What Ed did to Lucius. What Ed did to Wee John and Oluwande and Roach.

“You,” Ed says. It’s the wrong answer, he knows that, even if Izzy doesn’t. “Us.”

“Us.” Izzy’s voice cracks. There’s blood dribbling down his chin, a small pip, pip, pip as the droplets hit the floor. If Bonnet— Stede ever reclaims his vessel, he’ll wonder about the stain. Ed considers carving his name above it. The Kraken was here, and he is no longer. “There’s an us?”

Ed wishes the blood was his own, not Izzy’s. Wishes he never laid a hand on his first mate, on his friend, on the only one who never turned their back, no matter how bad things got. “Course there’s an us,” Ed manages to say. “What’re you on about?”

Izzy looks up finally. Behind his bruised face and split lip, he looks tired, pulled apart until there’s nothing left but exhaustion and blood. He doesn’t speak. Ed thinks the image of Izzy like this speaks for him.

“I...” Ed stops, starts. “I thought this was what you wanted. Blackbeard back.”

“Blackbeard never did things like this, not to me at least,” Izzy says. His voice sounds rough but it lacks venom, there’s no bite, nothing left. “Never used to, anyway.”

“I’m the Kraken,” Ed says. “What did you expect?”

Izzy stays quiet. Ed swallows repeatedly until his mouth is dry as a bone.

“Answer me.”

Izzy doesn’t, not for a long few moments that stretch for what feels like eternity, a test to see if the beast will finally strike him, and then he says, “The same as you.”

Loyalty.

Ed sucks in a breath that burns his lungs. “You threatened me,” he says.

“I’ve done that before,” Izzy says. His voice is low and cracked, and the way he speaks is like he thinks he’ll never speak again when they’re done, like he might as well say whatever’s in his head. “Never seemed to hold much weight back then.”

“You left,” Ed counters. “You lost that duel, got in your stupid little dinghy and rowed away.”

“You left first,” Izzy says.

“The fuck you on about?” Ed says. There’s a Kraken-ish bite to his tone. The smallest twitch of Izzy’s facial muscles when he flinches does not go unnoticed.

“You left the second you boarded the Revenge,” Izzy says. “You’d already left. You were gone.”

“No, I— I wasn’t—”

“You never intended to kill Bonnet,” Izzy says. “You only said that to placate me.”

“I did, it— I was going to,” Ed argues. He’s not sure he can convince himself, let alone his first mate, bleeding on his knees before him. Then, with more venom he says, “You were leaving!”

“You left first,” Izzy repeats. He still hasn’t looked up. Ed hasn’t seen his eyes in minutes and, he realizes, longer than he’d care to notice. Izzy hasn’t made eye-contact in weeks, not since Ed slipped into his room that night, not since the Kraken was let in, not since his betrayal.

Ed’s betrayal.

“How do I fix this?” he asks again. “I thought— I really did think you wanted the Kraken back!”

“I wanted you back,” Izzy says. It’s the most passion Ed has heard in his voice since— since— since that night. Ed’s always roughed Izzy up in a bad mood, but it’s never been anything to leave marks, let alone something as permanent as— Izzy speaks again, interrupting his flow of desperate, despondent thought. “You’ve been slipping away for years and I wasn’t ready to let you go. You used to burn, everything you did was with so much fuckin’ fire, I envied that. The person you became, it wasn’t you, it isn’t you.” Ed wants to ask if he means Ed, draped in a red robe, crying over his boyfriend, or if he means the Kraken, slipping into his first mate’s cabin in the dead of night to mutilate him for— for wanting him back. For being… afraid? “It isn’t you,” Izzy repeats, like he’s desperate to believe it himself.

“It is me.” Ed’s voice nearly adds to the betrayal, nearly refuses to function. Finally, slowly, blood still dribbling down his chin and neck, Izzy looks up, cautious, to finally, finally, finally meet Ed’s eyes.

He’s… He’s missed those eyes. It’s been mere weeks since they went away for him, and it feels like he’s been dying a slow death ever since. He wonders if this is how Izzy felt, watching Edward vanish beneath silk, anger and misery, watching him stop caring about everything around him.

“It’s all me,” Ed says. It’s me that kissed Stede, me that mutinied to become captain and became Blackbeard with you by my side, me who mutilated you, me who sent the crew to their deaths, me who chased what was left away in a shitty dinghy in the dead of night. “Ed, Edward, Blackbeard, the Kraken, it’s… it’s all me, Iz.”

Izzy spits blood out onto the dirty wooden floor. Ed’s knocked out a tooth, he thinks, but what draws his attention is the grime between the planks. He hadn’t noticed until now that the floor hasn’t been cleaned in a long time. No one dares to enter Blackbeard’s cabin without invitation after all, no one except Izzy. His floors were spotless once.

“Guess so,” is all Izzy manages to say once he draws his breath back in.

“Just tell me how to fix it, fix this, fix us,” Ed says, his voice quivering. Fuck, Izzy must hate this. He’s always hated the softer side of Edward, the namby-pamby pining for his partner, but he doesn’t know who else to be as he stares, horrified down at what he’s done.

“It’s like you said,” Izzy says, “I wanted Blackbeard back and I got him. What is there to fix?”

“My floors are dirty,” Ed says.

Izzy looks down at them. “I’ll get a mop and bucket.” He makes to stand but Ed lunges to stop him, to argue against his getting further injured if he falls, but stops at the last moment, unwilling to reach out and touch.

Izzy remains on his knees, but his gaze lingers on Ed’s hand, half outstretched towards him.

“No! I— That wasn’t what I meant, Iz,” he says. He tries to keep his voice steady, tries to stop his hand from shaking as he lowers it and Izzy’s eyes fall away. “I meant you used to let yourself in and clean it. You don’t anymore. You’re afraid of me. You flinched.”

There is a small pause, and then once again Izzy says, “Guess so.”

They stay like that for a few minutes, the cabin silent except for the quiet creaking of the boat, buoyed by the waves.

“I don’t care,” Izzy says finally. His head is still down, his goatee still bloodied, his knees still digging into the wood. “I don’t care what you do to me.”

“Don’t lie,” Ed rasps. “If you didn’t care, you wouldn’t be flinching away from me.”

“Instinct,” Izzy says. He raises his gaze, locks it with Ed’s again. “Tryin’ not to piss you off more, make it worse, make you unhappier.”

“I’m not—” Ed stops when Izzy meets him with a challenging expression. He is unhappy. He’s been unhappy for more years than he can remember being happy, as though all the joy and pleasure was bled slowly from him, hollowing him out just like he did to Izzy. “I keep trying to be happy but it doesn’t work.”

Izzy shrugs one shoulder. “I know,” he says. Of course he knows. Izzy pays attention. “That night you choked me, thought you were back. There was fire in your eyes, passion in your hands, you seemed… alive again.” Izzy’s quiet for a moment, contemplative, and Ed doesn’t ruin his moment of thought. “Turns out I just made you more miserable.”

“No,” Ed says, “no that… wasn’t you. It— I did what I did, it wasn’t… You didn’t ask for that.”

Izzy snorts.

“You didn’t,” Ed snarls, and he thinks, when Izzy looks up again, that maybe that hint of fire was back again. “You were trying to help, and I—” His own contemplative pause. “I overreacted.”

Izzy laughs at that, an actual laugh, Ed thinks, not a hollowed out one. “A’right,” he agrees. “I won’t argue with that one.”

“So tell me what I do,” Ed says. “Tell me how I fix this.”

Izzy’s eyes wander again, but this time it seems less to not look at Ed and more to look at his hand.

“Tell me,” Ed says. He’s begging now, he really is.

“Touch me,” Izzy says.

There is a long pause as Ed’s mind spins and reels and Izzy has to kneel with those words hanging between them. Ed can’t imagine what he’s thinking. Ed doesn’t know what he’s thinking.

“What?” he says, looking for clarification, not demanding a retraction.

Izzy’s breath shudders very slightly. “The only time you let yourself touch me is when you’re hurting me,” he finally says.

Ed thinks about the times in the past when he’s struck out, back when Izzy would strike back. He’d hit and Izzy would return the blow, they’d stumble, crash into each other, wrestle out their anger and unhappiness until they were both panting, disheveled and tangled together on the deck of whatever ship they were on. He thinks of how many times he’d been positioned over Izzy, pinning him to the floor, telling him to cry uncle and give in, admit defeat, and how many times he’d been the one wanting to admit defeat, how many times he’d wanted to kiss him until fighting was the last thing on either of their minds.

“Don’t care how you do it,” Izzy clarifies, eventually, once the wheels have finished turning in Ed’s brain, “got nine more toes if you fuckin’ want. Just…” He’s still staring at Ed’s hand, the hand that reached out to stop him getting to his feet, to steady him so he didn’t fall back down. “Just fucking touch me.”

Ed doesn’t want this.

He doesn’t want the blood that’s drying into Izzy’s beard, he doesn’t want the flashes of white that show through the crimson staining his teeth, he doesn’t want the reminder of the toe he forced into Izzy’s mouth rather than his own tongue, he doesn’t want to face up to the years that have driven a wedge between them so deep they’re both breathing sawdust and unable to reach each other across the chasm, he doesn’t want to think about the years he spent looking so desperately for something that could make him happy, ignoring the one person who would literally sacrifice pieces of himself for that end, he doesn’t want a single solitary mote of this.

“Stay there.” He goes into Stede’s bathroom area. He finds the clean water from earlier, the water he was going to use to take the grease from his face, and a rag. He comes back to see that Izzy has lowered his head back down, obediently still on his knees, obediently staying there and waiting, doing whatever Ed tells him to do.

He wonders, briefly, darkly, if had the Kraken told him to die, if he would have obeyed just as willingly. And what if Edward had suggested they do so together? Would he have done it then, too?

He brings the bucket and cloth over and settles down in front of Izzy on the floor, their knees mere inches apart. He dunks the rag into the water, then brings it up, one hand coming to cup the back of Izzy’s head and the other dabbing the rag against the bloodied areas of skin and clearing away the evidence of his misdeeds, revealing pale skin and dark stubble and hair once obscured by blood and gore.

He tries to ignore the way Izzy’s eyes track his face, the look of wonder in them as Ed willingly touches him with nothing but gentleness and almost reverence.

“I wasn’t trying to leave,” he says, once most of Izzy’s goatee is clean, once he’s worked the blood from every strand of hair. “I was trying to stay.”

Izzy’s face takes on a quizzical expression but he doesn’t speak. Ed wonders if he’s as afraid that speaking will stop Ed from saying what he needs to say as Ed is.

“I wanted to die, mate,” Ed says quietly. “I was looking for something to live for.”

Izzy looks at him. Ed wonders if he’s thinking what Ed is thinking, how painful it is that Izzy wasn’t enough.

He daubs the rag against Izzy’s face, achingly careful of the bruise, a hilarious thing that stabs him in his gut, considering he’s the one that gave it to him. He wishes he could un-give it, take it back or put it on himself instead, take away all of the pain he’s inflicted on Izzy over the years.

“You’ve just been trying to take care of me,” Ed says, talking to himself rather than Izzy now, busying his hands with removing all of the blood bit by bit. “I should’ve known that.” His movement falters. “I never wanted you to be afraid of me.”

“I’m not.”

Ed turns his head. Izzy’s face is so close to his own, it would be so easy to close the gap between them, to taste the blood on his lips, to let himself do what he wanted to do so much all that time ago, when they were younger and things weren’t so dark.

But he can’t. He’s taken enough. He’s hurt Izzy enough. Kissing him now won’t fix anything, won’t take back the things he’s done, won’t fix a damn thing and will, likely enough, make everything worse.

“You are,” Ed says instead of tasting his teeth. “You flinched.”

Another of those half shrugs. “Not fucking afraid of you,” he says, then reaches out and pushes Ed’s shoulder, just one sharp little shove that takes him off guard and topples him over, backwards so he hits the deck on his ass with a yelp. Izzy stares at him. Ed stares back. Izzy laughs.

Ed laughs too.

“Fucker,” Ed mutters and shoves himself back up onto his knees. “See if I tidy your stupid face up again.”

“You messed it up,” Izzy bites back, “makes it your responsibility, eh?”

Ed pauses.

He messed it up, ruined it, tore it apart, destroyed it inside and out, and now it’s his responsibility.

Izzy, that is.

“Mm, guess so,” he says, and stands. Before Izzy can do anything more, Ed reaches down and picks him up like a sack of potatoes, far lighter than he first anticipated but still difficult to lug around for too long.

Izzy yelps, then shouts, then starts trying to twist out of the grip. “The fuck—! Put me down—! What the fuck—!”

Ed carries him across and dumps him unceremoniously down on the once-soft, now dingy bed by the window. “Stay,” he says when Izzy tries to practically vault his way back off the bed, and retrieves the water and cloth, coming back to sit by him to continue tidying him up. “You look exhausted.”

Izzy doesn’t deign to answer that.

“You need some fucking rest before you keel over,” Ed says. Izzy remains silent. “I’ll go, if it helps. I’ll— Fang can stand watch, so you know I don’t—”

Izzy’s hand whips out, grip tightening on Ed’s wrist. It might bruise. Ed will let it. “Don’t.”

Ed swallows. “You want me to stay?”

Izzy nods, once. He doesn’t speak.

“Even after everything?”

There is a silence that stretches for what Ed thinks is eternity, and then Izzy says, “Am I going to wake up to— Are you going to—”

“No,” Ed says instantly. “Never again, none of that.”

Izzy’s expression is strange, fearful, hopeful, disappointed, relieved. There’s so much going on that Ed can’t keep up. He finishes tidying up the blood, and then sets the bowl and rag aside. The water is so red it might as well have poured direct from the vein.

He sits for a moment, losing himself in the water as it settles, the surface a mirror reflecting the candles that flicker nearby.

“Can we fix this?” It isn’t Ed who asks. He looks to Izzy, whose eyes betray everything, now Ed knows to look.

“Do you want to?” He hadn’t thought to ask before, hadn’t thought that maybe what Izzy might actually want is to finally be able to leave, to be set free from this sinking ship.

“It’s all I fucking want,” Izzy says.

Ed exhales. “Then yeah,” he says, “I hope so.”

They sit like that until Ed figures that Izzy isn’t going to rest until he commands it, so he does.

Izzy sighs like a put-upon housewife, but he rearranges himself slowly to stretch out on the bed. Ed doesn’t suggest he undresses or takes off his boots, the former offering far more vulnerability than he’s willing to ask of him just yet, and the latter showing both of them something neither want to think about.

There’s quiet until Izzy speaks. “Bl— Edward.”

Ed realizes he hasn’t moved, that he hasn’t stopped sitting on the edge of the bed, crowding into Izzy’s space.  “Yeah?”

“Lie the fuck down.”

Ed only hesitates a moment, but he kicks off his boots and rolls onto the bed behind Izzy, keeping a gap between them. It’s always him who keeps the gap between them. He wonders if maybe one day he’ll learn how to not.

“Edward,” Izzy says again. His back is to him, the dim moonlight casting shadows over his tired face.

“Yeah?”

A quiet pause, like he’s hesitating, like he’s unsure.

“Touch me.”

Ed turns and closes the gap between them.

[rafescoke]

Hiii! I don’t know if you’re still taking requests but how about a rafe fic where he is super sweet and gentle and just soft with the reader in private but an asshole once their in public? Just angst and a lil but of fluff and rafe being rafe, if that’s not too much to ask!

Facade ; Rafe Cameron

masterlist

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x reader

Summary: “This whole thing you’re showing to people. . . that’s not you. Fuck you.”

Warnings: Angst, angst, and more angst. Not the ending everyone’s expecting  (I think) 

A/N: I’m extremely sorry if this isn’t my best work but thank you for 700+ followers wtf ily <3 finishing all requests in my inbox this week!

“Don’t leave me yet,” Rafe groans. He places his arms around her waist, snuggling close. Her scent of strawberry wafts into his nostrils, and he closes his eyes against her warmth.

“Work.” she mumbles, and tries to stand up again. But Rafe does not let go, still holding onto her skin as if on his last breath, and she lets out a chuckle at the adorable sight.

“I can pay you twice the amount you’re working for right now,” he says. He finally let go of her, and slumps into the vacant pillows that she had slept in a few hours ago.

“I know, and I won’t give you the satisfaction of doing so,” she smiles, and take the chance of freedom to walk towards the bathroom. She checks the naked boy on top of the bed from the mirror, her heart soaring.

His boy.

She kisses him on the cheeks when she’s finally done, swiping her thumb on his pink lips as he whimpers softly in his sleep. She kisses him again, this time on the lips, for good measures.

(Y/N) never really like the restaurant in the country club, because it’s full of impolite kooks and bratty tourists. But money is money, and she’ll never say no to a good sum of them.

She sighs, clearing another dirty table all while thinking of Rafe in his room. Her insides suddenly beam when his kisses slides through her memory, and she wishes the clock would turn faster.

She slides in the empty back room, pulling her phone out from her back pocket and tapping on the top name of her contact. Her fingers glide effortlessly, her mouth forming a smile.

miss you.

Three seconds later, her phone dings.

Rafe: Disgusting.

Rafe: Miss you more :)

She wants to go back to him as soon as possible.

The door behind her back open before she can stuff her phone back in, and she struggles to appear busy as the manager peek his head in.

“What are you doing here? It’s full house. You got a table.”

(Y/N) look up to him, trying to pretend like she wasn’t just skipping some time to text her boyfriend, and nods.

Okay, maybe not boyfriend. She’s not completely sure. They never really certify anything, but whatever’s going on between them is definitely something more than ‘friends’.

She sighs again, picking up a menu before heading towards the group of friends sitting at the long table by the golf course.

“Hey, welcome to—”

Oh my god.

“Hey, you’re (Y/N), right?”

(Y/N)’s attention snaps back to the blonde boy sitting next to Rafe, and she gulps before nodding slowly. “Um, yeah.”

“You work here?”

Is he stupid?

She refrains herself from rolling her eyes, “Yes.”

Rafe scans the menu, not looking at her, and she feel a tug at her heart. Why is he pretending not to know her? She’s not expecting a sudden hug or a kiss on the lips; she’s thinking of something like a goddamn smile.

“Might come down here often, then,” the boy laughs, and the others follow him. Except for Rafe. “What’s the best order here?”

“Pasta,” she mumbles. He’s still looking at the menu, clearly trying to ignore her piercing stare.

“Which one?” The blonde sighs, flipping through the menu. “You got bolognese, carbonara—”

“Aglio Olio,” she answers quickly. He can choke and starve for all she cares for ruining her day like this. Why would he need her opinion on this as if he has never tasted on every single dish on this menu?

“I’ll take that one,” he smiles, and peeks over her arms. “Did you write that down? Can I see it?”

What a fucking cunt.

“That’s it?” She asks, tilting her head to one side. She takes more orders from the other boys, but there’s only one left.

She looks up to him, and finally, he meets her eyes.

“What’s the best soup here?”

Really?

“All of them are good,” she answers, biting her tongue. She never told Rafe before about her workplace, and they had agreed on that, but she did not expect this kind of treatment once he finally found the answer.

“Is this how you treat the customers?”

What. The. Fuck.

(Y/N) bites her lips, and suppresses her groan while the other boys laugh. “We have the best mushroom soup.”

“I’ll go with the mushroom soup, please.”

(Y/N) scribbles down ‘mushfuckingroom soup for the asshole’ down, and gives out her fakest smile. “That’s it? I’ll come back shortly with your food.”

“One more thing—”

(Y/N) turns to them again, still holding onto that smile, “Yes?”

“Try to be nicer to the customers sometimes. That way, we’ll tip you bigger.”

She stalks off, not knowing that person under the same skin she caressed and kissed this morning.

. . .

Rafe bites his lips, sitting on the edge of the bed and pressing the call button for the 17th time tonight.

He sighs when the operator comes on, and throws his back against the mattress again.

Okay. Maybe he was mad at that time. She never told him where she works, and he assumed her workplace to be some kind of a hipster cafe with cats for decoration. He didn’t know she would be serving in the restaurant at the country club.

He texts her again, groaning.

Pick up the phone

Helloooooooooo

?

The typing notification pops up, and he waits excitedly for her reply. After a few minutes, the notification disappear. He grunts again, and goes straight to his contacts.

He presses the phone against his ear, waiting for her voice to say something; to listen to his pleas and to come back to his arms. He misses her so much, more than anything else in the world.

“Stop calling me,” she says.

He sits up straighter, feeling his blood rushing throughout his body. “Hey, how are you?”

“How’s the mushroom soup?” She mocks, and Rafe raises his brows.

He sees it clearly now.

“Are you mad about that day in the restaurant? I wasn’t even talking shit to you like Topper—”

“Really? The whole ‘bigger tips’ thing? Was that necessary?” She asks, her voice breaking.

Oh god. “It was a joke!”

“Yeah? Congra-tu-fucking-lations, Cameron, it’s a funny one,” she says, and Rafe can hear her slowly distancing voice.

He panics, “Don’t end on me. Look, I’m sorry. It’s just that you won’t tell me where you work, and it appeared as a shock to me.”

That’s the dumbest reason (Y/N) had ever heard. She feels like laughing and crying at the same time, because this is exactly the problem;

Guys like Rafe Cameron would never want to be with a girl like (Y/N) (Y/L/N).

“Suck my dick, asshole!” she yells, and slams the phone down.

Rafe pulls the phone away, his face contorting in anger, and his shoulders slump. He should’ve known better.

It’s just that. . . he’s afraid of what the others would think of him if they knew about him dating a pogue. Ward didn’t take it well when Sarah ran off with John B, and Rafe assumes he would be feeling the same way about (Y/N).

Why does life have to be so fucking complicated all the time?

Two days after, Rafe heard about a party in The Cut, but nothing from (Y/N). He know he’s fucked up big time, and he’s content to make it right with her again.

He doesn’t like stepping his foot onto The Cut, only going to the other side of the island to meet Barry for his medical issues, and sometimes to see how Sarah is doing.

But he’s driving down to the strange place again, so determined to see his girl one more time.

The party is in an abandoned warehouse, and from the outside, Rafe can see how loud and huge the party is. He sighs, thinking about the amount of time he would be wasting to find her whilst going through the throng of bodies.

But he wants to see her and touch her more than anything.

No one seems to notice him, Rafe Cameron, the Kook prince yet, and he’s hoping to keep it that way until he can pull (Y/N) out. Not one person back in Figure 8 could know about his presence in the party, what more the reason he’s there in the first place.

It’s easy to notice her. Black top, denim shorts, and (H/C) hair flowing from her shoulders. He stalks forward, extending his hand, but stops when he notices the boy beside her.

JJ fucking Maybank.

He balls his hands into a fist, and watches the way she laughs at a joke by JJ.

He takes his phone out, dialling her number, and stares as she grabs her phone out of her pocket. (Y/N) sighs, sliding the call button to the left, and keeps it in her shorts again.

Oh.

Meet me outside

Now.

(Y/N) pulls her phone out again, contorts her face at the texts, and finally look up. Her eyes scans the whole area, trying to find a particular brunette. . .

“What’s wrong?” JJ asks, touching her forearm.

“I’ll be right back,” she says, holding a finger up, and heads straight towards the exit.

Her shoes crunches against the gravel as she tries to look for Rafe’s jeep. She stands there alone, crossing her arms, and groans when she realises that he must’ve been tricking her.

Rafe slides his arms around her. “Hey, princess.”

She yelps, pushing him off and looking straight into his eyes. She relaxes when reality hits her, but stiffen again when reality hits her again.

“You’re not supposed to be here.” Her cold voice rings into his ears, but he misses her too much to care.

“C’mere,” he says, extending his hands. “Missed you.”

“Fuck off,” she announces and stalks away, only to be pulled by Rafe’s arms again. This time, she stays in his arms.

“Sorry,” he mumbles against the top of her head. “I’m sorry I was such a dick to you.”

She stays silent, trying to put up a wall between her and Rafe, but it’s near impossible. She misses him a bit too much too.

So she lets him pull her into his jeep, and whatever feud they have before dissipates into the air.

He kisses her on the lips once in the car, and when she pulls away, he groans.

“I’m not going to let you go with just a kiss after 2 weeks,” he says, inching closer to her. She gives him a sly smile, knowing exactly what he’s trying to tell her, and closes the gap.

He pulls away again after finding his hands under her top, and points to the back. She shakes her head, smiling.

“Come on, you missed me too much to say no.”

. . .

Maybe he should say something to his friends to stop them from harassing her.

But he’s glued to the spot, watching as Topper taunts her.

“You lied to me,” Topper pouts, “The Aglio Olio isn’t that good.”

She looks at Rafe, hoping, wanting, longing for him to say something. Anything.

He stays shut, scanning the menu.

“Sorry. Would you like to order anything else?” She sighs, spelling a big ‘fuck you’ on the top of her notepad.

“Do you come with the menu?”

She looks at Rafe again, waiting.

Say something. Please.

She smiles, “I do.”

Topper smiles and the other coos. (Y/N) watches as Rafe’s jaw tightens, and she goes back to her dirty work.

Two can play this game, Cameron.

“Give me your best food, babe,” Topper smiles, and shuts the menu. “Anyone else? Rafe? What do you want to eat?”

She waits. Say something about us, Rafe, please.

“Can we change for another server—” he says, and raises his hand up. “Hey, yo, you, yeah, you the manager?”

Logan gives (Y/N) a warning look before putting on a smile for Rafe, “Yes, sir, is there anything I can do?”

“Can you call someone else to take our order?”

This is way too far. He’s taking this way too far—

“Did our (Y/N) say something?” Logan asks, still smiling. She knows he’s seething inside, and she hates Rafe for putting her in this position.

“No. I just love for a better view.”

That feels like a hard smack across the face. Her throat starts burning, and she can feel her tears slowly appearing.

“That’s no problem, sir, I’ll get you another server—” Logan looks around, “Kate! Yes, c’mere.”

(Y/N) looks at Rafe again. His eyes meet hers, but there’s nothing behind his gaze.

Coward.

She reaches for the cold water on the table, her head’s so light she can literally faint, and splashes the brunette boy so quick that he stands up immediately.

“Asshole,” she states, and turns to Logan. “I fucking quit!”

. . .

Rafe Cameron is 100% an asshole.

She used to think of so many counterattacks to that statement, but there’s zero now.

She hates Rafe Cameron will all her heart, and wishes to never see him again.

He tried contacting her a few times over the week, to which she ignored heavily. She never thought he would stoop so low to preserve his title as the ‘Kook prince’.

To hell with that.

She would never treat him like that, and she’s just so clueless as to why he said all those mean words to her.

He kissed her on the lips, pulling her close. “My baby. So fucking perfect.”

(Y/N) grinded against him, hearing his soft whimpers, and laughed. She watched the clock ticking, and sighed.

“Forty minutes until I’m off to work.”

Rafe groaned, “Stop talking about work. Work with me.”

“As what, idiot?” She laughed, gazing at him lazily. “As a fuckbuddy?”

He sat up straighter, his face contorting in anger. “You are not my fuckbuddy, okay? Stop saying that. God, I will never do that you.”

She smiled, and leaned to kiss him against his chest. She trailed her lips up to his neck, and stopped right behind his ear. He shivered, biting his lips.

“And I’ll make you mind one day, (Y/N), I will,” he whispered.

Now that’s the biggest lie of the century. She gets it now;

The night dates in the most unknown places, like a fancy restaurant in a fucking town 2 islands away from Obx. Not wanting to hold hands or to be posted on her Instagram.

Why had she been so stupid?

“Fuck,” she groans, laying her back against the pillow.

Rafe Cameron is embarrassed to be seen with her. Something like that.

All the sweet things he would say to her in bed is nothing but a tactic to get into her pants. And she allowed him. God.

“You’re a stupid fuck, (Y/N),” she cries, and bites her lips. And she thought he would be the one—

Riiing! Riiing!

“Stop calling me!” She yells first thing when she picks up the phone, trying to stop her voice from cracking. Like always, she failed.

“Yo? You good?” JJ’s voice rang through the phone, a hint of worry in his voice. “I can call you another—”

“No! No, J, it’s fine, I thought you’re someone else,” she sighs. “What’s up?”

“Wanna come down to the beach with me tomorrow?”

“And do what?” She sighs. She doesn’t feel like swimming in the water, or watch JJ swim, or search for dolphins (JJ told her before that there’s dolphins in Obx), or anything, really.

She wants to sleep.

“Surfing,” he answers, like it’s a fact. “Come on, you got the whole summer to practice surfing. Let’s start with asking the hottest guy in Obx to coach you.”

(Y/N) slapped him in the face, giggling ferociously. He picked her up, twirling her around, and when she least expected it, he jumped into the water with her in his arms.

They resurfaced, still in a laughing fit.

“God, Rafe, you’re an asshole,” she laughed, pushing his chest.

“And the hottest guy in Obx.”

She bites her lips, thinking of the memory, and clears her throat. “Maybe not surfing, J, but I’ll come down anyways.”

“Okay to me,” he says, and (Y/N) can imagine a smile playing on his lips. “Goodnight, (Y/N).”

“Night, J.”

She sighs, and shuts her phone off.

Whatever Rafe did to her disappears into thin air when she arrives at the beach and see JJ with two surfboards planted in the sand.

He grins at her when she comes close, “There you are. Thought you bailed on me.”

She rolls her eyes, “I don’t want to surf, J.”

“Since when?”

She groans, “Like. Right now.”

“Nah, come on.”

Maybe JJ’s right. She gives him a nudge every time he tries to hold her, but he’s patient. He waits until she’s more comfortable before helping her up on her board, and when she topples over from the small wave, he lets out the biggest laugh.

And she completely forgets about the fight with Rafe for the whole hour.

“God. You’re a dick.”

JJ smiles, stabilising her board again. “Try again. You can call me a dick once you will not fall over a small wave.”

And she tries again.

By the time the sun sets they were laying right next to each other, just admiring each other’s presence and not saying anything.

She likes it like this. No secrets.

“(Y/N)?”

She hums in response, leaning on her elbows for support.

“You deserve someone a lot more better than Rafe.”

“Don’t talk about him,” she sighs, and closes her eyes.

When (Y/N) told the pogues about Rafe the night after the incidence, they were all fuming with anger and hatred towards the brunette boy. But (Y/N) doesn’t have an ounce of hate in her for him, even after all the hurtful things he said to her.

What an idiot.

“I can’t watch you get hurt again,” JJ says. “I care about you.”

She looks him properly now, watching as the golden light illuminates his handsome face. “I know, J.”

They lay in silence again, staring at the blue landscape of nothingness.

“There’s someone out there who will treat you better.”

She looks at him again. No. No.

“Yeah?” She laughs, trying to give him the idea to stop right now and not make it any complicated for her. She loves him, more than anything in the world, but not in the way she feels for Rafe.

He’s her Laurie to Jo March. Nothing more but a best friend.

He scoots closer, feeling her warmth. “Yeah. Look around, (Y/N).”

She inches away, “J, I’m not looking for anyone. You know that.”

“Except for Rafe,” he mumbles. “Is that right?”

“He’s different.”

“Why, (Y/N)? He treats you like shit, is embarrassed to be seen with you—”

“Okay, J, fuck! I get it, okay? But I’m not looking for anyone. I’m just not. Leave me alone!” She groans, throwing her arms into the air exasperatedly. She doesn’t need another boy in her life right now.

JJ’s right. Except for Rafe.

“I’m leaving,” she says, grabbing her tote bag and stuffing all her belongings. “This is a mistake.”

“(Y/N), wait—” he tries to hold her, but she flinches away. He crosses his arms, “Let me drive you home at least.”

“I can walk.”

“It’s getting darker. Come on, don’t make this any harder for me.”

“A drive back home, and that’s it, J,” she warns, and sets for the black bike a distance away.

The ride towards her small home takes a few minutes on the bike, and all the time she’s sitting behind JJ with her arms placed on his shoulders for balance, they didn’t exchange any words. There’s an obvious awkward dome between the two of them.

“I’m sorry, J,” she sighs, stepping away from the bike and handing him the helmet. “I didn’t mean to lash out on you.”

He smiles grimly, not saying anything.

The engine roars back to life, and he looks at her again; standing with her hair slowly drying and her shirt still sticking to her body. He looks away.

“J?” She calls, placing her hands over his. He raises his brows at her, waiting.

She places a soft kiss against his lips, so subtle yet meaningful to him, and pulls away after a few seconds. She rubs his cheeks slowly, and gives him another kiss on the cheeks.

“Sorry, J,” she whispers.

JJ smiles softly, and runs his thumb over her cheeks.

Maybe in another lifetime.

“(Y/N)?”

Their heads turn towards the voice behind her figure, and (Y/N) swears her heart stops.

Rafe looks at her and back to JJ, his mind connecting the puzzle, and he nods.

“Wait, Rafe!”

JJ tugs on her wrist, his eyes begging. “Leave with me. Come on.”

She looks at JJ, and then back to Rafe, and she hopes for some kind of a way to get out of this. She groans, and pulls her hands away. “Go, J. I don’t need you.”

And that’s enough to hurt the blonde boy.

“Rafe!” She yells after the boy walking to his jeep, but he continues to walk, ignoring her.

She lurches forward and grab his shoulders, turning him to face her. She looks into his eyes, looking for any sign of love for her.

“Rafe, it’s not what you think.”

“Yeah? Were you trying to give him a CPR or something?”

She holds him in her hands again, “No, Rafe, I swear. I was just. . .”

But there’s no proper way to explain why she had kissed JJ. Was it because she feel bad? But why would she kissed him?

“Yeah,” he nods, prying his hands away.

A sudden wave of anger courses through her, because the boy who had hurt her did not just make this look like it’s her entire fault. She pushes him on the chest, and his back hit the car door.

“What the fuck?” He yells, glaring at her.

“So what? You’re making me look like the fucking bad guy now? After all the shit you said to me in the restaurant?

He laughs dryly, “Of course you would point this back at me. Hey, hey, look—” he cups her face, “At least I didn’t kiss anyone.”

She pushes him away, “It doesn’t mean anything! And you’re not my fucking boyfriend.”

He licks his lips, “Yeah. So let me go.”

She pulls him to her again, “Don’t fucking run away from me like this! You didn’t even apologise!”

“Because you won’t pick up my calls!” He yells back, throwing his arms into the air. “You want to fuck JJ fucking Maybank? Then go.”

“Maybe I do want to fuck JJ, Rafe, because at least he’s real. This whole thing you’re showing to people. . . that’s not you. Fuck you.”

“Yeah?” He taunts, staring at her left hand placed directly on his chest. “Then fuck him. You don’t need me.”

“I don’t.”

“Yeah,” he laughs, watching as her chest heave. “I can go to Kie too, you know, to make this even.”

“Yeah? Would you embarrass her in front of your friends too?”

He shrugs, “No.”

She grits her teeth, knowing that he’s just trying to get under her skin.

“I hate you.”

He turns her over, so she’s facing him, and inches closer to her ears. “You don’t.”

“I do.”

He laughs again, pressing himself against her, and Rafe blames the heat of North Carolina in mid July for the sudden tingling in his stomach.

“I hate that stupid smirk on your face right now, and I’ll do anything to wipe them off.”

He presses a soft kiss against her cheeks, feeling her brush against him, and let out a soft whimper. “Okay.”

After 2 weeks of not seeing her, all he wanted was to talk to her at her house, after all the calls that she didn’t pick up. But when he waited for her to come back from God knows where and saw him getting off JJ’s bike, he lets the cold side of him take over.

He lets her go, sighing. “I’ll just go. This is a waste of time. You’re clearly not thinking about me.”

(Y/N) bites her lips, because a part of her wants him to stay, and they can kiss each other again, but another part of her wants him to go and leave her alone.

“Go.”

He hesitates, and nods. The jeep speeds away, leaving (Y/N) alone in her front step, thinking about what she had just done.

She hurt JJ, who wanted nothing but the best of her, and she just lost Rafe. She’s as good as alone in this world, and she’s not sure what to do anymore. She wishes she never let her temper got ahold of her, but it’s too late.

She just wants to sleep it off right now.

-

@okayshoto @joselyn001 @onceuponateenagetrash @dyingsleeping @iwannabeapogue @meaganjm @rafesobxs @flossy2929 @unfortunatekiwitrash @scottybitch @asimpwriter @amaya124 @tommy-tommo @thatshithurted8 @fallincindy @marvelwhor3 @rafeswh0ree @kookap @supernaturallydc-blog @blank-velvet @alaniskauany @kiiim8 @witchywrter @kaitlyn2907 @heyimflo @overcookedpastasause @tsukkiswifeey @spidey-d00d @anonymousobxfan @gotmeinloveagain @chicagoblackhawkslover96 @lexi-writes @classydragonthingknight @belongtoyou-u @badbussylol @savannah-elliott @angelreyesgirl100 @haterpenny @beehappyyy @alwaysclassyeagle @maybankslut @kayleea122 @clearbolts @lovelyxtom @christianaevans @jemimah-b99 @opierdalacz @dangerdolns @wildflowerliv @classygirlything21 @pogueslandia @alwaysclassyeagle @rottenstyx

[zodiyack]

Niffler’s New Discovery

Requested by anon: May I request a the youngest Shelby sister x Newt Scamander story? The Shelby sister is nothing like her siblings. She’s shy, reads books like they’re oxygen, loves animals, and doesn’t drink, smoke, or anything like that. She doesn’t even swear, she’s so pure. She also loves his animals. And Tommy acts like her father but she loves her brother very much. Same as her other brothers. They find out she’s dating him and get all overprotective. Sorry if this is too specific. I just love the idea of a Shelby sister who’s nothing like her siblings. Because most of the Shelby reader fics always have them smoking and all that. Which they are fun to read, but it’s nice to see something different. Feel free to pick the Scenario. :)

Pairing: Newt Scamander x Female!Shelby!Innocent!Reader

Warnings: Swearing (not from reader ofc :)) slight suggestiveness (also not from reader), fluff, ✨m a g i c✨

Words: 1,303

Summary: (See Request...also I thought the gif was cute, so anon, I based it off the gif kinda)

Taglist: @matth1w, @redspaceace-writes, @fandom-puff, @darling-i-read-it, @simonsbluee, @sebastianstanslefteyebrow, @marquelapage, @stuckysslag, @psychkunox​, @i-love-superhero​

Masterlist | Fantastic Beasts (AWTFT) Masterlist | Peaky Blinders Masterlist

At first, they had no problem keeping their relationship hidden from her overly protective family, but the troublemaker Newt constantly had to chase down and return to his case was the thing that exposed them. The bloody Niffler just loved things that shined. Who could blame it though? It was it’s nature.

Just as it was the Shelby brothers nature to react the way they did. Violent, perhaps, but of their nature. Their possessive, over the top protective, shitty, big brother, nature.

And it all started, one late afternoon...

The older Shelby trio, not counting Ada with her age advance over John, returned home after a nice night out at the pub. Sure, the sun hadn’t set yet, but Pol wanted them to return home a little earlier today for a family meeting. The meeting included everyone, minus the innocent angel whom the Shelbys called their sister.

It was the perfect time to have Newt over. The perfect time to explore the secret world hidden inside his little brief case. If only they knew the pesky Niffler had been waiting.

“Are you sure they won’t suspect anything of my presence?” Newt hesitated, one foot hovering above the wooden flooring of Y/n’s bedroom, the other resting on the rooftop outside her window.

She ushered him in the rest of the way, making sure to lock her door after checking that no one was around. “Positive. Family meetings take a while, so we’re good on time. How about you? Are you sure this is good with the council?”

He had a guilt-ridden look across his face as he looked around. “There are some things the council doesn’t have to know.” A nervous laugh rumbled in his throat before he cleared it and scratched the back of his neck awkwardly.

“Uh huh... Well, just promise me that you won’t get into any serious trouble for this, alright Newton?” The blushing hufflepuff gave his lover a quick nod, as well as a smile in return for the little peck she placed upon his cheek, pinkening his skin further down his neck- it was no surprise that Newt was terribly new to receiving affection from anything other than his beasts that resided in his case.

“S-shall we be going?” He broke the tension, gesturing to the case in front of them.

“Boys.” Polly stopped the bickering that had started up between John and Tommy, her eyes drifting toward the ceiling, the trios’ following. “Your sister’s been awfully quiet.”

John cackled, “Oh no, maybe she snuck out, went to have a quick fuck with some guy off the streets, didn’t she Pol?” His rather sarcastic tone suggested his knowledge that the referenced behavior was most certainly unlike his little sister, but the immaturity of John Shelby simply couldn’t resist making a joke.

Polly, however, was in no mood for John’s incessant kidding. Her hand met the back of his head, a disapproving furrow of her brows telling him to stop talking. “I’m being serious, you idiot. It’s more quiet than usual.”

“And what about it, Pol?” Tommy spoke after taking a drag from his cigarette, an eyebrow quirked.

“If she really does have a boy up there, he better pray he’s out the window by the time we get up there.”

Tommy’s brow, lowered after asking Polly how she’d respond, lifted back once again. “There’s no God for him to pray to, Arthur. The boy is fucked, plain and simple.”

“In more ways than one.”

John’s childish cackles were hushed into silence, a slap sounding throughout the room prior to their ceasing. A hand rubbing the back of his head, John glared at his aunt, yet continued the discussion of what to do with Y/n nonetheless.

The past ten minutes had been spent trying to block off any and all exists for the pesky little Niffler. Each time it attempted to escape the bedroom, Y/n or Newt were quick to block it off. It amazed Y/n how many places the little creature could scurry off through. Unfortunately, with their wild-goose-chase, footsteps turned to stomps...well, really running, but downstairs it was more likely to sound aggressive, such as the hard thud of a Blinder’s boot on the floor of the Garrison.

It was inevitable; the possibility of being caught, but the fact seemed to slip their minds as they both tried to corner the Niffler, as well as capture it once more. Every shiny thing, ranging from jewelry to bullet casings, or things that caught her eye, made into décor (gifted from her brothers, as she would never touch a gun unless need be) were being stolen as the creature evaded capture.

Newt shot Y/n a sorry look each time one of her belongings were snatched up by the Niffler. It touched her heart, truly, it did, but now was not the time to swoon. Y/n froze as the Niffler wandered over to a bottle. Wine? Champagne? She didn’t know; Y/n never drank- the bottle was a gift from her sister in law, which she couldn’t turn down without upsetting her, so it soon became another...decoration.

Atop the bottle was shimmery, gold-like, wrapping. Of course it caught the mischievous little shine-thief’s eye. It pulled and pulled, Y/n and Newt made eye contact as the uneasy feeling in their guts mirrored, until POP!

The door broke open with a loud bang, Arthur standing confused before getting both a Niffler and a cork to the space between his brows. While Y/n flinched, Newt only looked away in shame.

“What. The. Literal. Fuck. Was. That?” John gapped. His usual remark would be to poke fun, but he too was in great shock, he couldn’t even think of anything humorous.

“A- ...A Niffler.” Newt stuttered. His rather shy demeanor was rarely common around Y/n, so she new he was slightly uncomfortable the second his hand lifted to itch the back of his neck as his eyes found interest in the floorboards.

“Did I fuckin’ ask you?” John narrowed his eyes at the timid wizard.

It was unusual for Y/n to get angry, but the unjustness of John’s attitude toward her lover didn’t sit well with her. “Leave him alone!”

Now there was more to be shocked about. “I- what?”

“You heard me, John. You, Arthur, and Thomas. Leave Newt alone. He didn’t mean for this to happen, so he shouldn’t be harassed by you three. Want to question him? Have Pol do it, but the second you come to my room and bully my lover is the second you cross the line.”

Tommy, amused, let out a little chuckle as he raised his eyebrows.

“Something funny to you, Thomas? ‘Cause I don’t think any of us are laughing.”

 “No, sister, nothing is of humor to me.” He muttered despite dawning a lopsided smirk. Tommy looked at his brothers and nodded his head toward the stairs before walking away. Although he was leaving, he never said he wouldn’t poke at the boy some more. Now just wasn’t worth it; he was already shaking in his boots as it is.

“Tommy- where- where’re you goin’?” John did a double take, following shortly after.

Arthur rubbed the red spot where he’d been nailed by the creature and it’s new favorite possession, proved by it cuddling the cork close to it’s body on the floor where it had landed after hitting Arthur. He excused himself politely before walking in the same direction as his brothers, still rubbing at his soon-to-be-bruising injury all the way down.

Newt took the opportunity to grab the niffler and tickle Y/n’s possessions from his tummy before running over and tucking him in the case. The anger faded from Y/n’s eyes as she watched her lover. “It looks as though the Niffler has discovered something new.” Newt chuckled lightly, easing up slowly.

“New indeed.”