#marina x finn

[verumvidere]

\\ AQUATIC ID PACK

names ;;

anemone, aqua, bay, coral, fin / finn, fisher, marina, marvin, pearl, ray, sailor, sandy, shark, shell / shelly, siren / sirena, river, cove

pronouns ;;

fin / fins, fish / fishs, swim / swims, sea / seas, ocean / oceans, sail / sails, coral / corals, reef / reefs, pearl / pearls, oyster / oysters, shark / sharks, shell / shells, sand / sands, water / waters, lake / lakes, tuna / tunas, jelly / jellyfish

titles ;;

{X} who swims with the fish, the deep sea diver, lurker of the waters, {X} who lives in the reef, {X} who sails / has sailed the seven seas

genders ;;

auramaric, deepoceanic, genderaqua, creauterelle, sirekenic, hydroneric, selachiine, jellidolic, oceanbodiment, jelliestaric, genderocean, seabomination

[DIVIDER ID: a black chain gif divider that moves horizontally across the screen. it repeats twice in this post. END ID.]

[south-of-heaven]

Masterlist

Requests are closed

Rules

NSFW HC's

A

AJ Styles

Asuka

Andrade

Alexa Bliss

A to Z - Aleister & Zelina

B

Bayley

Brollins

Becky Lynch

BRE

Bianca Belair

Brandi Rhodes

Brody - Brandi & Cody

Baylor - Bayley & Finn

Browsey - Ronda & Travis

Brie Bella

Beth Phoenix

Brody King

C

Cody Rhodes

Charlotte Flair

Chyna

Cheddie - Chyna & Eddie

Carmella

Candice LeRae

Claudio Castagnoli/Cesaro

Chandrade - Charlotte & Andrade

Cathy Kelley

D

Damian Priest

Damage CTRL

Dakota Kai

Drew McIntyre

Dominik Mysterio

Dexter Lumis

E

Edge

Eddie Guerrero

F

Four Horsewomen - WWE Four Horsewomen - UFC

Finn Balor

G

Glowish - Naomi & Jimmy

H

House of Black

I

Iyo Sky

Indi Hartwell

InDex - Indi & Dexter

J

Judgement Day

Jessamyn Duke

Jon Moxley

Jey Uso

Jimmy Uso

Jade Cargill

Julia Hart

Jeff Hardy

K

Karl Anderson

Kairi Sane

Karrion Kross

L

Lita

Lyra Valkyria

Liv Morgan (No longer writing for)

Liv 4 Brutality - Liv & Rhea

M

Mia Yim

Marina Shafir

Moriguez - Liv & Raquel

Malakai/Aleister Black

Moxuette - Jon & Renee

N

Natalya Neidhart

Nikki Bella

Naomi

O

P

Phoenix-Edge - Beth & Edge

Q

Queen of Harts - Shayna & Nattie

R

Rhea Ripley

Rhuddy - Rhea & Buddy

Ronda Rousey

Renee Paquette

Ruby Riott/Soho

Roman Reigns

Ronattie - Ronda & Nattie

RnR - Rhea & Raquel

Raquel Rodriguez

S

Shayna Baszler

Starkszler - Shayna & Zoey

Sheamus

Stephanie McMahon

Sonya Deville

Seth Rollins Masterlist

Scarlett Bordeaux

Shawn Michaels (not currently writing for)

Scarrion - Scarlett & Karrion

Saraya Knight

Sasha Banks

T

Triple H

The Big Three - Jade, Bianca, & Naomi

Trish Stratus

Team Bestie - Lita & Trish

The Rated R Couple - Lita & Edge

Troey - Trish & Zoey

Toni Storm

U

V

W

X

Y

Z

Zelina Vega

Zekota - Zelina & Dakota

Zoey Stark

[damiansgoodgirll]

hiii <33 could you write like a one-shot with damian priest where reader is like this diva-bratty-ish wrestler (idk if you get what i mean 😭��� like maryse sort of) and shes always fighting with rhea ripley and tjd but damian secretly likes her? i'm sorry if this doesnt make sense 😭😭

this would be me if i had to pick up a character for wrestling , here i’ll leave you the song i listened to make this piece

damian priest x reader

primadonna

the first time you got involved with the judgment day was to help liv who was against rhea, and, of course, as in classic judgment day style, non of them could help rhea without cheating so you had to do something.

the second time you got up against rhea it was way much before wrestlemania and way much before she got the title, you two had a simple match against each other that was won by her, of course, only because dom distracted the referee when you were about to win.

the third time you got involved with the judgment day was when damian and finn were having a feud do to finn’s lost at money in the bank. you weren’t supposed to do anything, you were just there, alimenting the tension. rhea didn’t like it and so she picked up a fight against you, fight that you avoided.

you weren’t a heel, but you weren’t a baby face either. you were just you and people loved you for that. it was almost like that it wasn’t even your wrestling personality because it was too easy for you. you were like a diva, the beyoncé of wrestling, like a primadonna.

you loved having attention and stealing other people lights made you happy. so that’s how you were side ring watching rhea fighting raquel. this time you weren’t going to interfere, you just were there for people to notice you and the moment the fans started chanting your name, rhea got mad.

this was your game and you were very good at it.

the judgment day - of course - were side ring too, making sure that you wouldn’t ruin rhea’s moment. damian got a little too close, like he was rhea’s bodyguard.

“are you scared i’m gonna hurt your princess?” you teased him.

“no, i’m worried she’s gonna hurt you” he said, leaving you speechless.

you and damian never shared more than a few words backstage, never been friends and never hung out with each other so you couldn’t understand why he was acting so protective towards you.

“she’s not a problem” you said looking back at the ring.

“she will be a problem if you keep teasing her, you should stop or you’re gonna get hurt” he said, avoiding the cameras that were pointing at you.

of course people would start speculating if they saw you two too close so you played your game and moved away from him.

“i don’t need a man to be saved, i can save my own ass” you sarcastically smiled, waving your hair back and forth.

you were sure the cameras caught that because they were pointing at you instead of the ring when you decided to leave.

the last time you got involved with the judgment day was when you were having a fight against bianca and when you heard their song starting you knew rhea was going to do the same thing you did at her match. you were currently winning so you didn’t let them distract you, instead you played your part way better. fixing your hair, checking your make up in the camera, smiling towards the crowd as you prepare to finish bianca.

when the bell rang you motioned to leave the ring but rhea jumped in.

“i told you so…” you heard damian whispering behind you. he knew that rhea wouldn’t have hurt you for real, she knew about the crush damian had on you but she couldn’t forget the way you always stole her moment.

yes she was “mami”, probably the most feared woman in the whole roaster but you were a fucking diva and you wouldn’t let someone who only wore black steal your moment.

you two stood in the ring facing each other. rhea had a devious smirk on her face, you, on the other hand, had the most “i couldn’t care less” expression that pissed rhea off more than before.

before she started a fight with you, damian shouted something at her that made her stop and leave the ring.

“this ain’t over” she screamed before going backstage.

“of course it’s not, next time we face each other i’m gonna get that title back home” you said, smirking at her.

you just fucked yourself and you knew it. damian had a very disappointed look on his face, more disappointed when rhea accepted the match.

“next week, me and you” she said before dropping the mic.

you waited a few minutes before coming back backstage. you were going into your changing room when you felt someone’s hand on your shoulder.

“of course you had to challenge her” damian smirked at you.

“what can i say? it’s the way i am”

“you’re crazy y/n…she’s gonna destroy you” he said.

“geez thanks for your trust…” you said before having the most devious idea on your mind. you weren’t blind, you noticed the way he looked at you, the way he was stalking your social media, the way he was booking hotel rooms in the same hotel you were. you knew he had a crush on you and even if you liked him as well, you wanted to play with him a little bit “well…maybe, you could help me train” you offered him.

“me? why me?”

“you’re a great wrestler damian…and you know rhea” you said looking directly into his eyes.

“i shouldn’t…” he said.

“please?” you said smiling.

“fine…be at the gym tomorrow morning”

“no, i can’t tomorrow morning, i have a hair appointment, why don’t we do this tomorrow after lunch at my place? i have a ring inside my garage, and there will be more privacy too, what do you say?” you almost teased him.

of course he couldn’t say no. staying alone with you was his dream.

“fine…text me your address” he said before leaving. you couldn’t see it but he had the biggest smile on his face, the idea of spending the afternoon alone with you made him all happy and excited that he couldn’t wait for the next day to come.

[saturniasxenos]

Aphrodite Themed NPT ID Pack

Hello my lovelies, inside this pack you'll find pronouns, titles, names and genders that have a connection / relation to Lady Aphrodite, love, roses, doves, beauty, the sea, and all alike.

Lady Aphrodite is the most beautiful goddess. 🩷

Us humans, nonhumans, therians, and alike are all beautiful as well. 🩷

Pronouns:

Am/Ambro/Ambrosia/Ambrosias/Ambrosiaself

Aq/Aqu/Aqua/Aquas/Aquaself

Aqua/Aquama/Aquamarine/Aquamarines/Aquamarineself

Ap/Appl/Apple/Apples/Appleself

Bea/Beaut/Beauty/Beautys/Beautyself

Co/Cora/Coral/Corals/Coralself

Cha/Char/Charm/Charms/Charmself

Do/Dov/Dove/Doves/Doveself

Fo/Foa/Foam/Foams/Foamself

Gra/Grac/Grace/Graces/Graceself

Gra/Grace/Graceful/Gracefuls/Gracefulself

Gar/Garde/Garden/Gardens/Gardenself

Hea/Hear/Heart/Hearts/Heartself

Ja/Jasmi/Jasmine/Jasmineself

Lo/Lov/Love/Loves/Loveself

Myr/Myrt/Myrtle/Myrtles/Myrtleself

Mi/Mirr/Mirror/Mirrors/Mirrorself

Moon/Moonsto/Moonstone/Moonstones/Moonstoneself

Pea/Pear/Pearl/Pearls/Pearlself

Po/Pop/Poppy/Poppys/Poppyself

Pi/Pin/Pink/Pinks/Pinkself

Pur/Purp/Purple/Purples/Purpleself

Qua/Quart/Quartz/Quartzs/Quartzself

Rose/Rosequa/Rosequartz/Rosequartzs/Rosequartzself

Ro/Ros/Rose/Roses/Roseself

Rho/Rhodon/Rhodonite/Rhodonites/Rhodoniteself

Re/Red/Reds/Reds/Redself

She/Shell/Shells/Shells/Shellself

Sea/Seashe/Seashell/Seashells/Seashellself

Se/Sea/Seas/Seas/Seaself

Spa/Sparr/Sparrow/Sparrows/Sparrowself

Swa/Swan/Swans/Swans/Swanself

Swa/Swall/Swallow/Swallows/Swallowself

Va/Vani/Vanilla/Vanillas/Vanillaself

Ve/Venu/Venus/Venuss/Venusself

🫀/🫀's

🩷/🩷's

🩵/🩵's

❤/❤'s

💚/💚's

💜/💜's

💗/💗's

❣️/❣️'s

💕/💕's

💞/💞's

🐬/🐬's

🦢/🦢's

🕊/🕊's

🌹/🌹's

🍎/🍎's

Titles:

(X) Who Is Beautiful

Devotee of Aphrodite

Rosebud

(X) Who Loves

Child of Aphrodite

Lover of Doves

Lover of Swans

Lover of The Sea

Collector of Shells

(X) Who Nurtures

Risen From The Sea

Dancing In The Rose Field

Call of The Sparrow

Call of The Dove

Protector of Swans

Protector of The Sea

Protector of Sparrows

(X) Who Loves Doves

Names:

Fem: Aziza, Ahava, Adrianna, Asherah, Amy, Amandine, Amanda, Adora, Adoration, Amorra, Amarissa, Amadea, Amara, Amy, Adelpha, Annabelle, Aimee, Brooks, Charity, Coral, Cara, Carys, Cher, Cerys, Cordelia, Darya, Elska, Eri, Esha, Esme, Freya, Halia, Ines, Ivy, Ife, Juliet, Kasumi, Kailani, Kerensa, Laguna, Libi, Love, Mila, Mai, Milena, Minna, Marina, Moana, Mabel, Mia, Nereida, Pippa, Rain, Rose, Rosie, Rosa, Suki, Sandy, Talia, Valentina, Venus, Yang,

Masc: Alon, Adrian, Agapito, Agapius, Amor, Amantius, Amato, Amias, Aziz, Adonis, Beck, Beau, Conor, Connor, Cordian, Caspian, Connelly, Corwin, Caleb, Dilan, Dewey, Desiderio, David, Dariel, Deniz, Darrell, Erasmus, Erazem, Erastus, Eros, Fenmore, Firth, Finn, Hudson, Hart, Jed, Kevan, Kevin, Kordian, Kiefer, Kaito, Liev, Lev, Leif, Lennon, Liam, Leofric, Manju, Milos, Obi, Pacificus, Philip, Romeo, Rasmus, Rhys, Rudo, Sajan, Triton, Taddai, Taddeo, Thaddeus, Valentino, Valentine,

Neu: Aroon, Arrow, Adair, Amadeus, Aire, Aiko, Amoris, Anbu, Cariad, Caro, Ceri, Caron, Glyndwr, Ingrid, Jorah, Kealoha, Keris, Kerensa, Kama, Kamaka, Ler, Maite, Mirren, Muir, Navy, Ocean, Paris, Sailor, Shui, Siran, Tutku, Vale, Vashti, Yaretzi,

Genders:

Lovememory - It could be related to having memories of love ; memories of love being a part of your identity ; memories of love from / in ones past life ; and etcetera.

Idolovea - a gender related to idols & love! Being an idol of love , a love idol , an idol who spreads love , an idol who loves , etc!

Puramour -a gender where your only purpose is to find love .

Amoncitte - A gender Related to Ones hand Intwirled on Anothers , Feather light Kisses , Gentle care , Love letters , Sweet Nothings , Cherishment , && Pure Love.

Redstringic - a gender related to the concept of the red string of fate. this gender is related to love, the concepts of soulmates ( of any type of love ), && feeling complete.

Agapelic - a gender that embodies agape: godly love, also known as the highest form of love, unconditional and boundless. this gender feels intense and may be connected to divinity, or a godly being that represents agape.

Loverlexic - a lexic gender related / connected to the word ''lover''. this gender may or may not be related to romance, that's up for the user to decide!

Loveincarnic - a gender connected to loving love and loving being a lover.

Rosweetphrasic - A gender related to the phrase "A rose by any other name would smell just as sweet."

[catboy-autism]

Seal ID Pack

[PT: Seal ID Pack /End PT]

[ID 1: An image of a seal in water. Only its head is visible, and its eyes are closed. It looks at peace. ID End]

[ID 2: A thin line drawing of blue waves. ID End]

Names: Blue, Bobby, Brigid/Bridgette, Brooke, Calypso, Carrie, Celeste, Cordelia, Damien, Dana, Darius, Dylan, Ella, Finn, Harper, Irving, Kai, Leo, Levi, Lotus, Luca, Luna, Marina, Nessie, Nymph, Oakley, Penny, Proteus, Rain, Ripley, Robert, Ross, Sage, Sam, Seamus, Seeley, Selena, Selkie, Siren, Stella, Storm, Wade, Wendell, Celine

[PT: Names /PT End]

Pronouns: dive/dives, drift/drifts, fish/fishs, float/floats, flood/floods, flow/flows, fur/furs, hunt/hunts, lion/lions, lure/lures, ocean/oceans, oort/oorts, pup/pups, rain/rains, ring/rings, sea/foam, seal/seals, selk/selkies, splish/splash, spots/spots, star/stars, tide/tides, tusk/tusks, 🦦/🦦s, 🦈/🦈's, 🐬/🐬's, 🦭/🦭's, 🐳/🐳's, 🐋/🐋's, 🐟/🐟's, 🐠/🐠's, 🐡/🐡's, 🦐/🦐's, 🦑/🦑's, 🐙/🐙's, 🦞/🦞's, 🦀/🦀's, 🐚/🐚's, 🪸/🪸's, 🪼/🪼s, 🌊/🌊's

[PT: Pronouns /PT End]

Titles: The [x] that barks, The barking seal, The hunting seal, The ocean's protector, The pup with tusks, The Selkie, The swimming [x], The [x] who swims

[PT: Titles /PT End]

Labels: arissoselkie, baikalseabomination, intuselkie, lorarchic, oculopinni, sea lion kin, seal, seal ambitherian, sealboy, sealgelic, sealgender, sealgender(2), sealhubris, sealpearl, sealthing, seaplillowic, selkiekin, selkie alterhuman, selkiean, selkifem, selkiegender, selkiendelic, selkievior, sylkicute, sylkigender, sealgirl

[PT: Labels /PT End]

Requested by: @equine-equius

[ID 2: A thin line drawing of blue waves. ID End]

divider credit(link)

[dogmetaph0r]

SIC 'EM

Chapter 4: ...and Stay

A/N: It's been...........literally two months slkdjgskljgs. Sorry y'all these just keep getting progressively longer and I got caught up in packing for vacation time. ANYway, it's here!! More mystery, more bickering, and more... weird, complicated layers of mistrust. Oh boy.

Pairings: M!OC x F!OC, M!OC x Tommy Shelby

Warnings: descriptions of violence, past child abuse, implied past CSA, blood and injury, vomiting, mental health issues, mention of suicide

Soundtrack: Please, Please, Please Let Me Get What I Want - Deftones (cover) // Are You Satisfied? - MARINA // Who Are You, Really? - Mikky Ekko

Summary: Following the headlines that turned Sam's world upside down, the Shelby family makes sense of the disaster at Aintree. Sam sees a vulnerable side of the legendary gangsters, Tommy gets some much-needed perspective, and Finn is... Finn. An unexpected message complicates matters.

Tommy and Arthur’s side of the story raised more questions than answers. The pair took it back to the meeting point under the grandstand, somewhere just before the race had begun. Sam’s panicked retelling of his day, the incident with Little Tsarina especially, had sent an ice-cold shot of anger through Tommy’s heart, only worsened with the warning that the next leg of their plan had to happen immediately. Somebody had caught on, and word was spreading through the police that capital-T Trouble had bought tickets for the race that day. There was no time to speculate on how the authorities could’ve been tipped off; if they knew what to look for, the police would find them too quickly to patch the information leak. Tommy had to adapt quickly, had to think three steps ahead of the police. People needed to be switched around.

While John was substituted for his snow-high brother, Arthur was sent out to track down the horse beater, following the scent of a man whom Paul had bumped shoulders with on his way to the stables. The man was old and gray, in no shape for a jockey and dressed too cleanly in his linen suit to be a veterinarian or a stablehand. His exit from the building raised eyebrows. Arthur pressured him, spitting venom and gripping his ironed shirtfront with bruised, white-knuckled fists as he shook him. But that man hadn’t been the one, proffering certification of his status as a jockey’s sponsor with trembling, arthritic hands. The lead went cold.

Turning instead to the rows of betting stands, Tommy figured his brother might have better luck looking for anyone hawking Tsarina as the future champion, someone looking to make a blood-soaked buck on the misguided bets of the gullible. They were unlucky there as well– the gilded signs and mahogany-framed chalkboards certainly dripped with deceit and fraud, but not evil. No musky scent of horse hair, no flecks of blood dotting their white socks, and no black-eyed haze of violence driving their appetite for more, more, more: money, power, attention, women, success. Arthur reached into his pocket for the silver clip binding together his personal supply of petty cash, his way in through the crowd as navy suits and felt bowler hats beckoned him forward to lay his bets and line their pockets. Rather than feeling the worn softness of a bank note, his fingertips brushed the torn edge of a scrap of paper, fresh ink staining his thumb as he freed it from his coat. The little slip was smudged, hardly legible and freshly scrawled out as though in a hurry.

  Psalms 94:1.

It didn’t mean anything to Arthur outside of the haunting pang of cosmic guilt it inspired in him, the thought of crumpling and tossing the holy scrap unbearable. He shoved it hurriedly back into his pocket, tongue stumbling over a whispered prayer before turning his attention back to his own godless pursuit of more, more, more.

Tommy, meanwhile, had been keeping tabs on the movement of the police and the Blinders as he slipped like water through the crowd. Well-dressed and charismatic, he fit in enough to slither all the way to the VIP section, where a proper vantage point offered the best view of the plan marching along as it should. It didn’t take long for the police to catch wind of the brawl in the tent, and it didn’t take much longer for it to escalate to an all-hands-on-deck order. Tommy gave the signal, and the Blinders struck like wolves on fattened cattle.

Licenses were burned, safes were broken, and the vast majority of the rich company men dominating the Grand National betting were driven away with little need for force. Arthur and Jim, of course, needed the tang of blood salting the air to feel like their job was done, but the operation was otherwise one of their cleanest. Quick, quiet, quit the scene.

Or rather, it was clean until the gunshots. Pop, pop, pop. Those weren’t police, armed only with wooden batons at what was meant to be a very peaceful, posh event. Those loud bangs were from something– or someone –far worse. The Blinders’ departure from the racecourse had to be rushed, and their drive even more so. It had ultimately been too much for Charlie Strong’s thrice-reanimated truck, which sputtered and coughed a filmy black haze until it rolled to a permanent halt in the grassy riverbanks of Tern Hill, radiator hissing and spitting like a mad cat.

That was where Sam had gone hypoxic from the strain of running on a broken rib, breath so short and shallow where he’d slumped to the floor of the truck that Tommy feared their ride home would arrive too late. When he briefly regained consciousness, he’d muttered something about God not being done with him. That, Arthur claimed, was how he remembered the note, tucked shamefully away into the pocket of his overcoat. He didn’t mention it– didn’t have the time, between barking orders for the men and fighting the cocaine shakes –until later, when the sun had risen on another day and the paper had arrived freshly-printed in bundles to the newsboys’ stands. Instead, it burned a hole in his pocket and itched at the back of his mind.

There was no time for anyone to drive up to Haydock that day; Polly had to reach Florence at work and let her know what had happened over the phone when they arrived in Birmingham. Tommy had made that decision as soon as the car pulled up beside the hospital entrance, a finger glued to Sam’s pulse as the man drifted in and out of awareness in the backseat. Scudboat had driven them there in record time, and from that moment on everything was in Doctor Matheson’s hands. So far, so good, for what they were working with.

The next morning’s paper was what threw everything out of balance. Grand National in Disarray!, the headline read in large, blocky font. Unidentified woman killed in brawl, police blame gang activity. The article went on to explain a limited version of events, nothing too outrageous until the very last paragraph. Police received an anonymous tip that the event was orchestrated by individuals associated with organized crime. “May God strike these wicked people down!”

Tommy read that final plea over and over until the black lettering began to flash in negatives behind his tired eyelids, scrubbed into permanency by fingers pressed tight to tender eyes as his mind ran around the few details he had. Sam’s defensiveness about his faith, his insistence on maintaining plausible deniability, the information that he hadn’t properly conveyed to Paul until Tommy stepped in to hear it himself… it didn’t spell out good things for their newest co-conspirator. Arthur’s note, resurfaced with a horrified shout of recognition, only stirred the already-boiling pot. The only thing they could do in their powerlessness was stew over the possibilities, building and scrapping plots to weasel the information out of Sam one bit at a time. And then, so early in the morning that the world was still tinted blue by the retreat of night, Monday’s paper came.

The next paper was nothing more than a trash tabloid, a way to sell drama to bored housewives and gullible grandparents, but by the time Tommy and Arthur had pulled in front of the hospital they’d passed no fewer than fifteen early morning workers gathered around the paper stands with their smokes. Politician’s Wife Shot At Derby!, Tommy's copy read. Woman shot dead at Grand National identified as Mrs. Agnes Clarke, wife of parliamentary candidate Lieutenant Clarence Clarke.

There, plain as day, was the sketch. It couldn’t have been more clear who the suspect was meant to be, from the heavy-lidded eyes down to the hair-thin scar on his upper lip. The article once again threw the blame onto some mysterious threat of a crime ring, the flames of rumor only fanned by eyewitness statements from the scene. One man heard word of the fight escalating over a woman. Another added that the man in the sketch was the one to fire the gun. The third statement, perhaps the most concerning, anonymously implied that the shot was intentional. That the man in question must’ve been a political extremist targeting Lieutenant Clarke for his campaign to sniff out police bribery. The paper ran far with this theory, tossing forth claims of everything from IRA involvement to Sicilian mafia ties and just about anything in between. But of course, a cheap headline capitalizing on tragedy was nothing without a name for their assailant. The Hangdog Killer, they dubbed him. “The shame on his face spoke volumes!”

“Hangdog Sam,” John whistled. “That’s got a ring to it.”

Fia scowled at him from her place leaning over the Shelby kitchen table, each page of the paper spread out before them on the wood surface gouged and stained by years of use. Sam’s eyes drifted aimlessly over the jumble of letters, scouring instead the composite sketch for any indication that it might not be him. But those were his eyes, that was his nose, that was his scar. There was no other conclusion he could draw– the public thought it was him. Him, a murderer. Him, an assassin. A terrorist.

“You understand how this looks,” Tommy said seriously. Sam nodded, sat at the table with his eyes glazed over.

“I’m telling you, Tom,” John said, wiping his hands down his face. “It’s not him. And you know I’ve got no reason to want him around, so you’d best believe me.”

Sam was torn between wanting to pat John on the back and punch him in the face. He did neither, opting instead to keep staring listlessly into his own sketched reflection for some sort of answer.

“He might not have planted that note or shot that woman,” Arthur grumbled, “but that don’t mean he couldn’t’ve tipped off the police, somehow. He had plenty of time alone on the racecourse day-of. Could’ve even made a call from the hospital, if he wanted to.”

Tommy nodded. “The way I see it, John, the only thing you can undeniably vouch for is that you didn’t feel a gun on him. That doesn’t disprove anything, even if it makes some things less likely.”

Fia rattled off a handful of insults in Rokka, mostly half-abandoned sentences describing how she saw it. She was pink in the face, eyes brimming with unshed tears as she said her piece. Tommy took it in stride, nodding when Fia cursed his thick skull and sighing when she listed his own varied offenses.

“For what it’s worth,” Paul said, squinting over the small print of one of the articles, “I don’t think you could’ve managed it, lad.”

Sam laughed mirthlessly, shaking his head as he rubbed at his aching temple. “Would that hold up in court? Your honor, Paul says I’m too much of a fuckup to go to jail.”

Paul raised his hands apologetically with an exaggerated shrug. “All I mean is that you’ve been busy,” he said. “We had eyes on you the whole way over, and you clocked in late enough in the morning that you couldn’t have been alone in the stables. You’d been accounted for all day. Couldn’t have had the time to be questioned by police, and if your higher-ups at Aintree suspected something was off with you, we’d’ve heard from them by now. You couldn’t have ratted us out, you couldn’t have lamed the horse, and you couldn’t have shot anyone. Not all on the same day, certainly.”

It was a fair point. Sam already knew his innocence, knew that even if he’d blacked out and done something terrible out of fear there was no way he could’ve seen straight enough to shoot with how hard John hit him. Knew that there was no way he could’ve had a gun on him if he couldn’t even afford the bullets. Knew that snitching on the Peaky Blinders would have been the end of his and Fia’s little cushion of savings, if not Sam’s life. But it helped, knowing that there was something besides John’s word about the shooting in the tent keeping him safe from the wrath of the Peaky Blinders. Three possible offenses down, countless to go. “What are my options? Do I even have a chance to defend myself here?” Sam asked, addressing the room at large.

“I wouldn’t ask questions like that just yet,” said Pollyanna Gray, taking an elegant drag from her cigarette with an arched eyebrow. “You might not like the answer.” She flipped one of the pages over, underlining a few key sections with a pencil. Sam flinched as she tapped the cigarette on a chipped ashtray, situated perilously close to the flammable newspaper.

“Can we do this… elsewhere?” Sam asked Tommy. “I’m sure not everyone has to be here.”

Tommy looked up from where he and John were dissecting a paragraph, looking around at his makeshift court: Polly, John, Paul, Arthur, Fia, Sam, some adolescent whose name he hadn’t gotten, and himself. The look Tommy gave Sam was unimpressed, eyes boring so coldly into him that he could practically feel the frost crystallizing on his skin. He blinked once, slowly, before returning calmly to the paper. That in itself was answer enough on its own.

Sam opened his mouth to provoke Tommy into telling him something, anything, when Fia placed a warning hand on the back of his neck. “Well, we ought to summarize what we do know, then. Sam, tell us once more what happened when you were alone in the hospital the first night?”

He sighed. It was a detail they’d been over a dozen times, each time more frustrating than the last as nothing seemed to satisfy Arthur’s insistence that he could’ve somehow made a call without the guard at the door noticing. As if he could’ve gotten up out of the bed on his own. Sam was tempted to bring up the number of times they’d had to call in a nurse to help him upright just to make sure he didn’t piss himself, but at this point he would do anything just to get some peace and quiet. His head pounded, and the layers of conversation happening above his ducked head only made things worse. “I went to sleep,” he gritted out, “and I had a nightmare. I woke up to the nurses restraining me.”

“But you weren’t restrained before that,” Arthur said, punctuating his point with a finger aimed at Sam’s face. “Weren’t no guards set outside the door yet. You could’ve gone down the hall and tipped off the police.”

“I was coughing blood,” Sam snapped. “You saw it. I wouldn’t have made it far.”

Arthur grumbled, but with a pointed look from Fia, he nodded reluctantly.

“And the next night?” Fia prompted.

“He was sedated,” Tommy admitted. “We were there as he fell asleep, and after that Isiah was guarding the door with Bill.”

Isiah, the young man he didn’t recognize before, nodded. “I can vouch for him, Tom. He didn’t move an inch all day. The only time I saw him awake was when they were forcing some food into him, and I watched that all too.”

“All of those nurses are on our payroll,” John said. “Same as Dr. Matheson. Not a single leak.”

Tommy was silent, nodding to himself with his hands on his hips. It was a habit Sam had come to associate with Tommy’s brain puzzling with a challenge, dissecting and examining each piece.

“Great,” Fia said, exasperated. “So, Isiah, you know that Sam couldn’t have tipped off the police in the hospital.”

“Right,” Isiah said.

“Paul,” she continued. “You say he’s been accounted for the whole day by the Aintree staff?”

“He’d been working just about the entire morning,” Paul said. “Wrapped up with that speckled mare, the one with the lame front leg.”

“Yes, exactly. John, you can confidently say that Sam wasn’t the shooter.”

“I’d bet Arthur’s last rusty quid on it,” John insisted. Arthur cuffed him on the back of the head.

“And Arthur,” Fia continued, turning her attention to the oldest brother. “You’ve given us reason to believe that someone put a note in your pocket that was written just shortly beforehand. That couldn’t have been Sam, because–” she looked at Sam, who nodded, resigned. There was no point in defending his pride if it cost him his head. “ –because he’s not been taught how to write.”

“Hang on, then,” Arthur interrupted, leaning over the table with his brows furrowed. “We don’t know that. All we have is a claim from you and the other Lees, and– no offense, Florence –the Lees are notorious for tall tales, right? An’ the other Lees besides yourself don’t exactly like the Lovells. Not much reason to flatter Sam’s readin’ level.”

Polly finished her cigarette, leaving the butt to smolder a lazy trail of smoke from the ashtray. “I can vouch for his illiteracy,” she said, a smirk on her lips. “This morning, I wrote him a check for all the money owed to him from the Aintree job. I shorted him thirty percent, and he thanked me for my business.”

From his right, Fia gasped and smacked Sam lightly on the shoulder with one of the papers. “We agreed, no checks unless I give them a once-over!”

Sam huffed a half-assed apology, head in his hands as the embarrassment only made the invisible vice wrapped around his head tighten a notch further. It hurt to look up, hurt to look down, hurt to do anything more than squeeze his weary eyes shut and breathe heavily into his too-sweaty palms. Nobody saw him flinch when Arthur’s fist thudded like a gavel against the surface of the table, nor heard him whine nauseously when Fia’s voice reached a watery pitch that forecast frustrated tears. It was a small dignity that nobody noticed him gritting his teeth about what hurt and what didn’t, the former outnumbering the latter by the dozens.

“Boys,” Polly’s voice cut through the chaos, sharp and stern yet greatly appreciated as the room went quiet in its wake. “You won’t accomplish anything by refusing to listen to anyone. How I see it is that Samuel is not your rat. Now, he’s no boy wonder–” Sam glanced up at that, frowning a bit at the self-satisfied look on her face when he opened his mouth to defend himself, “–but I do think he’s smart enough to not poke the bear, so to speak. He has no allegiances outside of the ones we already share.” She stepped away from the table, heels clicking as she circled around to look at another page. “That was why we wanted him, right? A lone actor in need of money?”

Tommy nodded contemplatively, stepping away to pace a bit through the living room with his arms folded across his chest. Sam cringed as the dust dancing in the light stirred, kicking up the memory of old cigarette ash. Every fiber of the fabric in this house seemed to be steeped in the noxious stink of old tobacco, foul and sulphuric. The more the Shelbys moved– pacing back and forth, grabbing a drink, sitting on a chair, fucking gesturing –the more it infiltrated his nose, roiling his gut.

“I think I need some air,” he croaked, making to stand shakily before a heavy hand landed on his shoulder.

“You’re not going anywhere until we figure this out,” Tommy ordered from across the room, and the hand (Arthur, he guessed, based on the way Isiah was busy reading the discarded sports section and John was off reasoning with Esme, who up to this point had steered quite clear of the nonsense) pushed him back down to his seat. The change in blood pressure and the grating in his ribcage was hell on Sam’s head, and he grabbed at his forehead in a futile attempt to keep his skull from pounding.

“Mate, he’s gonna be sick,” Isiah muttered, barely looking over the edge of the paper as the corner of his mouth twitched in a halted smirk.

Tommy huffed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Isiah, can you go keep Finn out of trouble for a bit, please? Go to The Garrison or something, tell Harry Fenton I’ll compensate him for a pint each for you boys.”

“Thought my perspective was crucial here,” he remarked, just a tad too sharp to be a joke. He folded the sports section and tucked it into his pocket anyway, patting Arthur on the shoulder as he passed. “Tom, seriously. He’s been ill all weekend. Nobody would be stupid enough to let him just wander about Birmingham like a stray. He can get some air, mate, nothing’ll happen.”

“I said,” Tommy snapped, pointing, “Go to The Garrison. Please.”

Sam put his head down on the table for a moment as Isiah’s irritated door slam rattled through his brain. Polly cast an admonishing look at Tommy, who glared exhaustedly at the front entrance.

“That wasn’t necessary,” she scolded. “He’s not a boy anymore. You can’t just order him around when he’s saying what you don’t want to hear.”

Tommy squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head as he turned away. “His presence wasn’t needed anymore. He was free to go. All I asked was for him to tell us about the hospital, and now he thinks he can tell me what can and can’t happen under me own roof.”

Polly lit another cigarette, eyes widened in bemused astonishment. “You and I both know it’s more than that.”

The man whipped back around, his shoulders a tense line and his jaw set. Sam was struck with dizzying deja-vu, a glimpse of the very same version of Tommy looming at the foot of his bed that morning. No longer cold ice and sharp steel, but hot blood and blunt words. “I have been working,” he hissed, “day and night for this family. I have a son I haven’t seen. I’ve been gathering evidence, I’ve been making calls, I’ve been doing everything to make sure that this doesn’t hurt our success in Liverpool. So forgive me if I’m not being polite enough.”

“Our success!” Polly threw her hands up with an exaggerated eye roll. “Oh, god forbid we can’t afford another car. What will we do, build one with the factory we own?”

“Ada’s gotten her ideas into your head, I see. You know damn well what this could do for us.” Tommy snatched his hat and coat from the rack by the door. “I need a break. John, take Samuel upstairs and crack a window for him. He doesn’t leave this house until we know what’s going on.”

The front door slammed again as he left, and it would’ve been Sam’s breaking point if he weren’t already being escorted upstairs with a hand under his arm. His vision swam and blurred with pain as they made their way slowly up the stairs, John complaining under his breath about his bruised, wrapped-up hand and Tommy being a stubborn prick.

The second floor wasn’t warm and decorated like the sitting room. There were no shelves of fine china or little crucifixes or painted vases, no heavy curtains casting a colorful glow to this hallway. It was plain. A time capsule of years past, Sam imagined. A life before the Shelby family grew into the Shelby empire. Here, the wallpaper was stained and curling at the corners, scribbled with pencils and shredded by roughhousing from years and years of dirty-faced boys growing up into dirty-money men. The cigarette smoke wasn’t so strong here, blessedly, but it seeped sepia tones into what must’ve been mint-and-white stripes once upon a time, now faded to gray and more gray. A single gauzy lace curtain hung limply at the end of the hall, framing a smudged window looking out over rows and rows of similarly dreary houses sharing the little corner of Birmingham called Small Heath. It was strangely comforting, seeing this soft underbelly of the people holding a knife to his throat. He could imagine Arthur growing tall as hell overnight like a skinny tendril of ivy, Tommy learning how to bargain by begging Polly for something he knew he couldn’t have, John learning just how much he could get away with.

But there were hints of another sort of childhood here. John led him past one room, the door cracked just enough for Sam to catch pink floral walls and the glimpse of a tattered old doll. Ada, the sister. Must’ve been hers. He hadn’t met the woman, but Fia had told him enough from Esme’s wedding that he could extrapolate the rest. She used to chase rats with a gun, Fia relayed to him. It was all John said. As in… oh, hello! This is my sister, the one with the rat-killing tendencies! Sweet Jesus, what a family. He couldn’t imagine what it would be like, being raised with wild wolves for brothers. It had been so long since he’d last known what brotherhood felt like.

The room John led him into was claustrophobic, even as bare as it was. The busy wallpaper danced circles in his sight, dizzying enough to obscure details besides the immediate ones: a thin mattress on a metal frame, a privacy screen, an oak dresser, a chair, a tiny fireplace. John let him sit gingerly while he crossed the room to open the window, letting in a blessedly rain-fresh gust of air to wash out the smell of people. The weather had been too poor overnight for the scent of pig and coal to linger, and it almost smelled like home. Like the barest hint of greenery, thick with mud and wet stone.

“My wife told me I need to apologize to you,” John said, shattering the blissful silence. “But I did save your arse from trampling and from Tommy, so I think we’re even enough.”

Sam hung his head and breathed out a laugh through his nose. “That’s fair.”

“Yeah.” John leaned against the wall, gazing out at the alleyway below the window. “If I thought you’d done it, I wouldn’t’ve defended you.”

Sam nodded. “I appreciate that. But I’d assumed that was the case?”

It was John’s turn to laugh, shaking his head as though Sam had just said the stupidest thing he’d ever heard. “Don’t assume anything. People out here will lie about anything to get what they want from you.”

“What, like loyalty?”

“Like loyalty. Or favors. Respect. Fear, even.”

“Why are you telling me this?” The wallpaper stopped shimmering like snakeskin the more cold air he took in, so Sam breathed as deeply as his ribs could manage without protest.

John shrugged. “I dunno. Guess I feel bad that I put you in the hospital. That’s usually Arthur’s thing.” He turned his attention towards toying with some glass bottles and wooden knick knacks on the narrow mantelpiece. “And I guess you’re going to be my niece or nephew’s dad, yeah? There’s something to that, like it or not. You might as well get used to how our world works.”

Sam snorted, shaking his head slowly. “My God. Is that you saying the feud’s over, John?”

John glared over his shoulder. “Don’t get cocky, aye? I’m being civil. I’m not your pal.”

Sam raised his hands placatingly, relaxing in the wood chair as the fresh breeze settled his stomach and nerves. “Heard loud and clear, mate.”

They sat in silence for a while, listening to the distant roar-hiss of factory fires and heavy machinery. Sam could focus his eyes long enough now to take in more details of the dark room. Behind the divider was another bed, similarly plain and lumpy. The floor was as scored and stained as the table downstairs, the baseboards similarly scribbled-on in layers of old graphite and half-scrubbed crayon. The walls were decorated haphazardly with pastoral landscapes and mirrors, and a peek behind the painting just above his head revealed the reason for the strange positioning: a fist-sized hole in the wall, hastily patched with plaster and concealed with the fake-gilded frame. Sam let it rest back against the wall with a light thunk, startling when he heard John clear his throat.

“This was our room,” John said, watching Sam glimpse behind the veneer. “Me and Tommy. Used to share everything, back then.”

Again came the imaginings of a life before the Shelby empire: John and Tommy arguing over who was making more noise, doodling crude words into hidden corners of the wall, wishing for a stroke of luck to change everything. He imagined their father, and then wished he hadn’t. Arthur Shelby Sr. was the sort of man his father didn’t want around him growing up. Rotten soul, he’s got, Sam was warned. He remembered being very little and standing by the canal with his mother at some horse auction or another, listening to a pretty woman with raven hair and cornflower-blue eyes tremble out excuse after excuse. He’s so lovely when he’s not angry. He really doesn’t drink so much anymore. Oh, I promise, it’s not all that bad. You know boys will tell all sorts of stories. All sorts. His mum told his dad, and his dad told Sam: You’re not to be around that deviant Mr. Shelby without me, aye, chavo? And no matter what he asks of you, you don’t do it. And that was it. No more business was done between the Shelbys and the Lovells.

Sam dared to stand for a look at the collection of items on the mantle, finding his ribs were just as broken as they were a minute ago, but that his legs felt less like jelly. His fingers drifted over a mismatched collection of trinkets: little chipped seashells, a perfectly smooth river rock, a rusty old pocket knife, and a few little wooden animals.

“You whittled this?” Sam ran his hand over the back of a horse in motion, the grooves and worm-bitten holes of the driftwood catching on his fingertips.

“Oh,” John said, laughing. “Naw, that was all Tommy. This one’s mine.” He crouched to reach under the lumpy second bed, pulling out a little tin biscuit box. Brushing aside the usual fare for a teenage boy (a few newspaper cutouts of pretty women from underwear ads, some loose change, an empty pack of cigarettes with folded love letters tucked inside), he offered him what looked to be a lump of…something.

Sam rotated it carefully. Made of wood, some clumsy score marks, a few dark brown spots of blood where John’s fingers had evidently slipped and he’d nicked himself…

“…Is it a rabbit?” Sam hazarded the guess with the sort of caution one might use to answer a Sphinx’s riddle.

John scoffed. “It’s meant to be a gun, arsehole— give me that.” He snatched it back only to toss it and the tin box unceremoniously onto the old mattress.

They were silent for a while as Sam stared out the window, taking deep diaphragm breaths to avoid the burning rise and fall of his chest. Factory smoke rose in thick ribbons into the gray sky, with furnace fires sparking fiercely enough for Sam to hear and feel it from where he stood. A few childrens’ squeals pierced the air, and an old drunkard was shoved roughly from the back door of a house with a shout to not return until sundown. A city of contradictions. The sort of city that would explain the Shelby family.

“You’ve got a…a nice place,” he said awkwardly, feeling quite dumb with the look John gave him.

“You don’t have to lie.”

“No, I mean it,” he said, finding that he truly did. “You have a solid roof over your head, a city you run, and a family who’s got your back. That’s lucky, it is.”

John shrugged, leaning against the wall beside the window. “Guess so.”

Sam hummed, turning his attention back to the window to watch a skinny man wearing a peaky hat hurrying down the alleyway, checking frantically over his shoulder before ducking around a discarded pile of refuse. He sat eerily still, tense and rigid against the courtyard wall where only a glimpse of his hat and a blood-stained sleeve could be spotted.

“Hey, John,” Sam said, slow and cautious.

John hummed his acknowledgement, pushing off from the wall to see what Sam was watching so intently. He frowned when he saw the man, eyes narrowing.

“Is… is that one of yours? A Blinder?”

“Yeah,” John responded, seemingly aiming for casual and landing more in the realm of anxious by the way his voice cracked. “Yeah, as a matter of fact, it is.” John’s shoulder brushed his as he turned away quickly, kneeling to dig under the lumpy mattress for something– a revolver and a box of ammunition, Sam realized as John clicked each bullet in place in a practiced motion. “Stay here. Don’t move, you hear me?”

Sam opened his mouth to make a smart comment, but John didn’t stick around for an answer, slamming the door behind him.

Tommy felt anger boiling in his gut, tunnel vision setting in as he strode aimlessly down the street. Who the fuck did they think they were speaking to? Tommy wasn’t clueless. He wasn’t some naive first-time gangster trembling at the sight of blood on his shoes. He was a professional. A father, a soldier, a goddamned clay kicker. If he said wait and listen, they waited and listened. If he said shoes off so the Germans don’t hear their footsteps, it was fucking shoes off. If he said “Isiah, go to The Garrison”, he went, and if he said “Sam Lovell doesn’t fucking leave”, then he fucking doesn’t.

He could’ve just shot the man. Would probably cost his rapport with Florence and, by extension, Esme. It would cause ripple effects and he’d probably see himself on the bad side of the Lees again as well as the Lovells. For all he knew, the extended family was armed to the teeth and Sam’s guileless, awkward self was the odd man out. So, no, probably shouldn’t shoot him. But it would’ve been so much easier. Less complicated to have a feud than a sneaking suspicion.

People parted around him like water, crossing streets and herding children away by the sleeves of their school shirts to clear the way. Thomas Shelby, King of Birmingham. Fucking fraud. The past few days were taking a toll on him. He was losing his edge, not enough power behind his voice to control a handful of people, much less an entire city. He needed to hear from Grace. Just once, just to check in. That was all he needed.

Without even making a conscious decision, his footsteps led him directly to The Garrison. There would be a telephone there, at the very least. He could make a call and ask Grace to put Charlie on the line if he’d already woken from his nap. At the very least he could ask how he was doing. If he missed his father. The doors swung open, the scent of beer and liquor souring in his nose with a whoosh of air. Blinking to adjust to the darkness inside, the first person to catch his eyes was Harry behind the bar. And sat before him?

“Isiah.”

The young man looked up at him, disdainful and irritated. “What, Tom?”

Tommy didn’t really have an answer for that. He leaned against the bar beside him, flagging Harry down for his usual: a glass of whiskey, Irish only. Isiah snorted beside him, shaking his head and taking another sip of his drink. A pint of beer, just like he suggested. 

“No Finn today,” Isiah mentioned, feigning casual. “Too busy chasing some tail. Unsuccessfully.”

Tommy sighed, ignoring the stickiness of the wood under his elbows as he shifted his weight. “Sounds like him.”

They were quiet for a while, the only sound between them being the clunk of Tommy’s whiskey glass as Harry placed it in front of him. Isiah didn’t seem outright angry at this point, but his jaw was tense as he watched the lingering foam of his beer dissipate and reform as more bubbles rose to the top.

I’m sorry I snapped at you, Tommy should’ve probably said. “I had John crack a window for him,” he said instead, taking a deep swig of his whiskey. The burn traveled all the way down to his stomach and settled there, a reminder of the fire that had quickly gone out when he’d opened the door to The Garrison, mild embarrassment taking its place.

Isiah hummed a short, sarcastic little tone of intrigue: is that so?

“Your input was appreciated,” he tried.

That got more of a response out of Isiah. “Why do you still treat me like a child? Finny I get, he’s your kid brother, but c’mon mate. I’m 19 now, and I earned my razors fair and square.” He flicked the brim of his flat cap, the metal sewn within glinting in the low light.

Tommy huffed a slight laugh. Even when cross, Isiah couldn’t help but be proud of his early onboarding into the gang. “That you did, Isiah,” he said. “That you did.”

They drank in silence, nodding awkwardly through their unspoken truce. Men, Ada often groaned. You can’t ever just talk to each other, can you?

“Right,” Tommy cleared his throat. “Gonna make a call home. Finn’s out, you said?”

Isiah nodded. “I’ll catch up to him somehow,” he said as Tommy rounded the corner of the bar to find the storeroom in the back.

The dust tickled his nose and the whole room smelled sour from spilt beer and Arthur’s occasional drunken overnight stay, but it was quiet and private enough for him to let his guard down and hover impatiently over the phone. The operator took her sweet time connecting him to Arrow House, but a melodic voice soothed that irritation immediately.

“Hello?”

“Grace,” he sighed.

“Tommy.” He could hear the fond smile in her voice when she spoke, warm and bright.

Christ, he missed her. Missed her gentleness, her wit, her ability to think circles around him. Perhaps that was why he needed her immediately, when he could’ve just left that night and been home by the time the nanny put Charlie to bed. She would know exactly what to say, whether she realized it or not. Whether it agreed with Tommy’s bullheadedness or not. He’d never admit it to Polly or his siblings, but that was probably a large portion of his decision.

He smiled, safe in the privacy of the storeroom. “All’s well at home? No problems?”

He could practically hear her roll her eyes, shift her weight onto her right hip, lean into the curve of the telephone receiver like a cupped palm. When she spoke to the people she loved, she was as predictable as the rising sun. It was possibly the only time he could consider her predictable at all.

“All’s well,” she replied. Then, more animated: “I’ve run the numbers on the Liverpool expansion ideas while you were out, but I can’t get past that zoning issue in the city proper. Would you talk to Polly about moving slightly more east? It’s closer to the racecourse, this new space I’ve plotted.”

Tommy sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. Liverpool was perhaps the last thing he wanted to discuss, even with Grace. “Can’t you speak to her?”

She scoffed. “No.”

Well, figures. He chuckled, which coaxed a laugh of her own through the earpiece. “I will if you put the bossman on the phone,” he said, resting back on the edge of the small oak desk behind him.

“You drive a hard bargain,” she teased, the soft waves of her hair brushing the receiver as she switched the hand that held it. “He’s woken up a bit cranky, so we’ll need to tread carefully.”

Tommy gave her an understanding ahh, waiting patiently (“Just one moment, love.”) while she spoke to the nanny, biting his lip in anticipation. Then, the little man himself took to the phone.

“Baaa-h,” he babbled, inflected upward as though he were truly answering the phone on his own. He must’ve watched them use the telephone enough to know that the strange contraption had its own set of rules.

He couldn’t help the way his grin widened. “Hi, Charlie.” The warmth radiated outward from Tommy’s heart, relaxing away the tension he held from his neck to his temples as the little boy babbled and cooed over the line, Tommy oh-I-see’ing and is-that-so’ing between the mumbles and squeals.

Soon enough, though, Charlie began to fuss and needed some time to waddle about and stretch his legs, so the phone was once again relinquished to Grace.

“Quite a talker, our boy,” she laughed.

Tommy huffed fondly, shaking his head. Grace noticed the way he’d gone quiet, of course. How couldn’t she? Tommy had never met someone so cued in on the behaviors of others, even from such a distance.

“What’s wrong?”

Tommy ran a hand down his face, sighing. “The usual. Family breathing down my neck, business to take care of, and now this whole issue with Lovell…”

Grace hummed. “Run through it with me again?”

He did, recounting the events of the past few days and reluctantly admitting to where he’d been stumped in the last few hours. The more he spoke, the more it didn’t line up: how could Sam have planted the note? Did he even know how to shoot? By all accounts, it made no sense.

“Tommy,” Grace interrupted, right as a frustrated twitch was growing in Tommy’s eyelid again. “Have you considered that maybe… he hasn’t done it? That he’s just as confused as you are?”

It wasn’t really the answer he wanted to hear, but if she’d thought of something brilliant and he didn’t listen now, she’d hold it over him for the next month at least. “Go on.”

“Well,” she started, “of course I haven’t met the man, but does he seem the type to hurt a horse like that? Or let someone do such a thing under his watch? They’re important to your people, aren’t they? And he’s quite traditional, it seems.”

Tommy hummed.

“And–” a paper rustled (had she been taking fucking notes?) “ –from the timeline you’d given me, I don’t see how he could’ve had the time to play double agent.”

“And you’d know,” he added wryly.

“I would, thank you.” She didn’t take the bait, continuing on where she’d caught the scent of a theory. “Even if he had outside help, to threaten the King of Birmingham–” she added a bit of a sarcastic flourish, which was a bit warranted in Tommy’s mind, but nevertheless made him pout, “–and then manage to get caught up in the fray, leaving himself and his fellows vulnerable? That’s not strategic. The type of people who could pull this scheme off for this long would need to be brighter than that.”

Unfortunately, it made sense. Only a complete idiot would spearhead so many moving pieces without a way out, and no gang worth their salt would leave so many loose ends. So why would Sam, the man who objectively knew the most about Tommy and the Peaky Blinders than most people in the Liverpool area, be the disposable grunt they left behind? If he was too valuable for the Blinders themselves to snuff out, then any small-time gang up near Aintree would be downright salivating to keep him alive for their sake.

In a final act of resignation, he sighed, tilting his head back and fumbling in his breast pocket for a loose cigarette. “That’s what Isiah said earlier,” he admitted. “Said that nobody would be stupid enough to let him wander about Birmingham on his own.”

Grace vocalized her recognition quite the same way Isiah had just a moment ago, too perceptive for his pride’s liking at the moment. “And did you listen to his take? Or that of any of your foot soldiers, for that matter?”

“No.” He grabbed a packet of matches from a glass bowl on the dusty shelf, the newly lit end of his cigarette a warm glow in the damp, dimly lit room. “I only asked for the straight facts. Didn’t need conjecture.”

“Didn’t need conjecture,” she repeated, tutting. “But your own call is reliable enough? That this man is a traitor, that’s not conjecture?”

Ah, fuck. This was exactly where he didn’t need this to go. “That’s just how I am, Grace,” he rasped around the smoke. “Need to call the shots so that the blame doesn’t fall on anyone else’s bad move.”

Grace paused for a moment, her hums of consideration pointed but not unkind. “Think about why that is.” And then, with a quick goodbye and an I love you for the road, the line clicked and she was gone.

Tommy wandered back into the bright daylight to smoke a cigarette, feeling calmer but no less puzzled than how he had been before. In all honesty, he hadn’t ever really examined why he was the way he was. To Isiah, to Michael, to Finn. But it made sense, didn’t it? They just didn’t have that air of seriousness that age had given the people around him. Like they’d reached the right age but a switch hadn’t flipped, or like they were taking good care to wade slowly into the water so as not to break a single ripple. The war, he thought bitterly. The war was the switch. The war was that icy plunge. Perhaps it was what made Isiah more charismatic, or Michael more straight-laced, or Finn more forgiving. Nobody had pressed a shovel to their hands and demanded they dig for their lives. Nobody had made a soldier out of a boy like they did to—

“Tommy!”

The smoke caught in his throat, the shout so loud and close to him it forced the soot out through his nostrils like factory fire. Isiah had him by the upper arm, the grip a bit foreign and far-away like it usually was after he’d been lost in the mind’s tunnels for a bit. When had he gotten so close?

“Tom, there’s trouble,” he rushed. “Finn. He’s been—“

Tommy was moving before Isiah could finish his sentence, the young man jogging ahead to lead the way. Birmingham dispersed around them, women hurrying aside and old men bowing their heads to avoid eye contact as they passed. Curtains drew closed and doors locked in their wake as they swept through the town like a hissed rumor.

Tommy’s coat billowed behind him when he picked up speed. “Where, Isiah? Is he—“

“He’s alive. He’s fine, we made it out. But—“

“Fuck!” Tommy lost his footing on the cobblestones, slick with mud and…

Blood.

The wine red splash beneath his shoes hadn’t started to congeal yet, diluted by rainwater across the stones. But still, no sign of Finn. Isiah grabbed him beneath the arm, hauling him forward in a way that he never would have accepted had his baby brother not been in danger. “Not here,” Isiah said. “He ran off. Come on, this way.”

They found themselves on Watery Lane, but before Tommy could make a beeline for the house, Isiah skidded around the corner, hat nearly flying off his head as he sprinted down the back alleyway between rows of brown-bricked houses and dreary little courtyards.

Tommy saw three things in quick succession: first, Finn leaning against a wall, clutching his upper forearm with one hand. Second, the blood: slimy wet through the gaps of Finn’s fingers, dyeing the fabric of his sleeve pink. Third— and most crucial, this third —Sam Lovell, shoulders curled in and eyes wild, knife glinting in his hand. John’s hands were pushing back on his shoulders before he could advance far enough to crack the man’s skull on the rough cobblestone.

“Easy, Tom.” John sidestepped into Tommy’s sight line, snapping him from the daze of adrenaline. “He’s fine. He’s fine. Sam’s got him, we’re fine.”

Now Tommy could see that the knife was the small whittling blade from their childhood, so old it was no longer sharp or long enough to cause real damage. He let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, an unseen tangle uncoiling from his innards.

“Tommy!” Finn pushed up from his spot on the wall, hurrying to his side with relief written all over his expression. “Did you see it? Did you see the fight?”

Tommy frowned. “No, Finn.”

“Well, I won.” He preened like a boy five years his younger, as though he’d evaded a schoolyard bully rather than escaped with his life.

“Sure looks like it,” Tommy nodded his chin towards the wound Finn was busy clutching. Finn flushed, stammering out excuses before he was cut off by John.

“It looks worse than it is,” John said. “He’ll need to flush it out but it’s pretty shallow. Just in a bad spot.”

Tommy grabbed Finn by the arm, forcing him to straighten it out with a hiss. As John said, it really wasn’t that bad: a clean, razor-sharp slash across the inner elbow, deep enough to draw forth a dramatic weeping of blood but not so deep to cause any real harm. The blood on the sidewalk must’ve not been Finn’s, he thought, letting himself sigh deeply with relief.

Sam cleared his throat, shifting his weight awkwardly from foot to foot. “Can I, um…”

“Oh!” John exclaimed. “Right, yeah. Sam’s been keeping an eye out here while we sorted things out on the streets. And I know—“ he held out his hand to prevent Tommy from speaking his mind on it, “—I know, you said he can’t leave, but I couldn’t just leave Finn out here with fuck-knows-who, and Sam was already on his way out here by the time I got myself straight.”

Sam nodded, wiping his sweaty hands on his trousers. “Got a glimpse of one of ‘em trying to come back and finish the job, but she ran off.”

Tommy’s brows raised. “She?”

“I think so,” he said. “Couldn’t chase her down, though, because… well.” He gestured towards his torso, where the whole of his ribcage was bandaged tight.

“There were four total. I couldn’t see most of their faces,” Finn chimed in, eyes wide, “but the woman… oh, she was sport, Tommy.”

Tommy pinched the bridge of his nose, John and Isiah breaking the tension with barking guffaws and slaps on each other’s shoulders like a pair of giddy sea lions. Leave it to Finn. As difficult as it was to keep him sheltered and safe from the dirty business, the bizarre and unguarded things that came out of his mouth made it worth it– a glimpse of the boyhood he was lucky to have. Still, he couldn’t walk around thinking with his prick in a city like this. He needed to be careful.

“Is that how they caught you unawares, Finn?” Tommy shoved him gently in the center of the chest, and Finn had the decency to look properly admonished. “Women? A pretty face and you’ll let them slice you to bits?”

Finn shrugged, but said nothing to save his pride. Isiah, noble soul that he was, swooped to his defense. “It was a proper ambush,” Isiah said, pointing at the bruise just now starting to bloom on his cheek. “We fought as best we could, but we had to split at some point. Just too much going on. Didn’t catch anyone’s face, not even the woman. So,” he stepped back to pat Sam on the shoulder, who winced piteously, “thank the Lord Jesus for Sam being one scary bastard. Kept ‘em at bay long enough for John and Arthur to try and sniff ‘em out.”

Tommy hummed, thinking back to what Grace had said. Did you listen to him? Everything in him screamed danger-danger-danger, to not trust this ghost of a person with what matters most to him. He swallowed, dry throat clicking. Yes, he was an unknown variable, and yes, he had been looming in the corners of his mind since the Aintree job went wrong, but… hadn’t he kept his brother safe with nothing more than a pocket knife, injured and tired? Hadn’t he disobeyed orders to put himself in the line of fire for a family that was debating the necessity of letting him live?

Think about why that is.

“Samuel.” He stepped forward, hand extended. Sam shrank back an inch, wary. “Thank you.”

Sam got the message and shook the proffered hand, brows still scrunched tight and eyes narrowed in suspicion like he was putting his fist into the mouth of a wolf. Tommy’s brain procured the image of a stray being offered table scraps instead of a kick to the side; the way it might slink forward, ears back and tail tucked to make itself smaller. Born to trust, raised to fear.

“No worries,” Sam said. “Just did what anyone would.”

The adrenaline wore off quicker than Sam would’ve liked, considering how nobody seemed particularly keen on letting him relax anytime soon. He considered tossing the knife, making a show of being unarmed, but… well, it was a perfectly good knife. A bit dull, sure, but not terrible. Most importantly, it wasn’t his and he had no authority to lose such a thing, so he resolved to stumble back down the alley and into the house on Watery Lane with the rest of them, the muscles of his back and chest taut and rigid around the pain.

It hadn’t been so much of a decision to join the fray as it was an impulse, an itch under the skin impossible to ignore. Something didn’t sit right about the young man hiding in the alleyway. He looked too young, too unsure of himself, checking so frequently from behind his hiding spot that he risked giving himself away to whoever was chasing him. John was taking too long to get there, and Sam? Well, he knew what to do with a fucking pocket knife, at the very least.

By the time he inched his way down to the bottom of the stairs, Paul was long gone and Fia, Polly, and Esme were having a quiet, heated discussion behind the large wooden doors separating the parlor from the betting room. Arthur was nowhere to be seen; probably off with John, if he were to guess. It was easy enough to slip out the front door, unseen and unheard. From that alone, Sam knew whatever had happened must’ve been serious.

Still, when he approached John and Arthur halfway down the alley, it shocked him that he went unaccosted for leaving the house. But looking at the boy leaning against the wall, whimpering against the stinging in his inner arm, Sam knew exactly who this had to be. Finn, the youngest, his mind supplied. No wonder they’d broken protocol so readily.

“Sam!” John’s shout caught his attention. “Sam, stay here, alright?”

That confused him even further. First, it was stay inside, now stay outside? “But–”

John ignored him. “Arthur, you take north and I’ll take south. We flush ‘em out, wherever they’re hiding.”

And then they left them there, just Sam and Finn and a three inch blade. The very same one he’d stolen from Tommy and John’s childhood room, and the same one he waved threateningly at a young woman prowling from the far end of the alley, something sharp glinting in her own hand before she turned and fled. The same one he used to open the letter Arthur brought back with him.

“Couldn’t catch up, but one of ‘em dropped this,” he grumbled, panting with the effort it took to run back to the house. Arthur let a crisp white envelope with no return address flop onto the table. On the back, printed in dark ink, were just three words: Brummies, be warned.

As Arthur read the words out loud, Sam suddenly felt that he could throw up at any moment once again. Damn his sore head and weak nerves.

They let him do the honors (or, perhaps, didn’t want to touch whatever was inside), the knife sliding below the seal as they watched on eagerly. Fia bit the skin around her fingers as Esme wrapped an arm around her shoulders, one hand rubbing her arm comfortingly. It came open easily enough; Sam wasn’t quite sure why he thought there would be an issue, as though he were defusing a bomb rather than opening a stupid fucking envelope. He shouldn’t have been sweating the way he was. At least, he didn’t feel the need to sweat until he saw the contents.

An obituary. He knew it by the polite little boxes labeled with polite little names, a paragraph under each like paper tombstones. He knew the face printed there as the grim special feature, freckled and messy-haired with ears that stuck out and skin dotted with pimples– the jockey, George. The one whose dreams were crushed that day when he pulled the nail from Little Tsarina’s foot.

“I know him,” Sam mumbled, awestruck and horrified. “Oh, fuck, I know him.” He did get sick then, stumbling just far enough outside and away from the table to avoid getting everyone else caught in the crossfire as they swept in to read it themselves. They were speaking over each other, arguing about something, but Sam couldn’t find it in himself to give a shit about anything until Fia’s small palm pressed between his shoulder blades, rubbing soothingly.

“You’re alright, Sam,” she whispered. “You’re alright.”

But he fucking wasn’t, and he didn’t realize it until he noticed that he couldn’t see past the tears blurring his eyes and dripping from his lashes. Fuck, fuck, fuck. He retched once, coughing around the thick, dehydrated saliva coating his mouth and the effort of holding himself upright. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fucking fair. How could every single thing he touched die like this? What sort of curse had tainted his hands in such a way that wherever he went, plans failed? Dreams were crushed? People were hurt? He shook his head, flanks shuddering, shrugging off Fia’s valiant attempt at drying his eyes with a handkerchief. Things hadn’t been this way until the Shelby family entered his life… hadn’t they? Or had it begun before then, when the youngest Lee daughter decided to fall in love with him at 12 and then keep his baby at 24, image be damned? The more he ruminated, the more it sounded like he was the unlucky thing brought upon himself and everyone.

“It’s not your fault, Samuel.”

He looked up, not expecting Tommy to be standing in the doorway looking at him. He repeated it: “It isn’t your fault.”

Sam blinked at him, unsure if what he was hearing was genuinely coming from Tommy’s mouth or if it was some sort of cruel hallucination, a trick his mind was playing to make the shame easier to handle.

“I owe you an apology,” he gritted out, and just when Sam was sure he needed to be checked into a hospital for the insane, Tommy unfolded the obituary in his hand— that is, unfolded it all the way. Now Sam could see its entirety, complete with large black slashes of ink scrawled across the bottom of the full page. Fia gasped, covering her mouth with one hand.

“It’s the same handwriting as before,” Tommy explained. “Trouble’s followed us down from Aintree.”

“That’s- it can’t be from Sam,” Fia stammered. “I told you, Sam can’t—“

“Can’t read, I know.” Tommy stepped down from the doorway, handing the paper to Fia. “And that’s how I know he isn’t associated with whoever’s writing to us. Evidently, they have no clue.”

She took a moment to read over the message, frowning. Then read it again. And then a third time.

“Well?” Sam let the wall behind him carry his weight, the excitement of the day wearing off and leaving him exhausted and achy.

Fia shook her head. “It doesn’t make sense. Sam, it’s addressed to you.”

A cold sweat broke out on Sam’s skin, his stomach swooping like he’d dreamt of falling and woken with a jolt. He looked to Tommy for confirmation, denial, anything, his stone-cold demeanor betraying nothing. “What…what does it say?”

“Hangdog,” she read, voice tremulous, “keep your snout out.”

“And the back,” Tommy added, and now Sam could see without the obituary to hide behind that his face was ashen and gaunt. Had he slept any better than Sam these past few days? What a strange thought to have, worrying over a man who just an hour ago would have dumped his corpse in the canal if it meant going back home.

Fia flipped the paper, and George’s small, hapless face stared down at him like damnation painted on the apse of a cathedral. “Curiosity— oh, god.” She squeezed her eyes shut.

“Read it,” said Tommy.

A sigh, meek and resigned. “Curiosity killed the mutt. Revelation 6:8.”

The Book of Revelation. Images flashed through Sam’s mind like the movement of a zoetrope, too quick to grasp in his hands. His childhood, Sam’s mother holding his little hand in hers at a fresco-drenched cathedral now long gone, pointing, look! Look deeply and see the beauty of it. See the brushstrokes, see the light take shape. Horses, fearsome ones, thundering over the dome of the earth to rain hellfire. All manner of suffering to come, the sun blotted out by the wet, glossy eye of a ghastly thing; a slither of sinew and limp, rotted muscle bound up together around bone in the form of a—

“Pale horse,” Sam breathed.

Tommy and Fia shared a look.

“And I looked, and behold a pale horse,” he recited, possessed by the words like a man lit by the fire of Pentecost, “and his name that sat on him was Death.”

Tommy nodded soberly, taking the paper from Fia and folding it to fit inside his suit jacket. “I figured as much.” He glanced overhead, where the thin hazy gray of the sky was beginning to thicken into a thundercloud darkness. “The obituary didn’t say how the jockey died.”

Sam shook his head. “Wouldn’t be surprised if he killed himself, with the loss of a horse’s career like that. The time, the money… the bond, hell.”

“Or,” Tommy posited, “he was killed. Perhaps in investigating what happened to his pale horse, he learned something he shouldn’t have.”

“And now they’re angry because I intervened,” Sam said, crestfallen. “I was the one who told him it wasn’t an accident.”

Fia drew her shawl tight around her shoulders, expression grim. “And what does it mean for us?”

She was drawn into Sam’s side with an arm around her waist, going easily and sinking into the closeness. “Means we can’t go back to Haydock,” said Sam, voice laden with sorrow.

“I’d say it’s worse than that.” Tommy took a cautious glance up and down the empty street, then beckoned them in with a nod of his head. He shut the door behind them with a click, doing up three sturdy-looking locks with one last look through the peephole. “We still don’t know where they have eyes. Could be anywhere.”

Sam turned to see the rest of the Shelby family gone from the foyer, the sound of bickering over antiseptic and Finn’s pained yelp muffled through the kitchen door. With more time to process his surroundings, Sam could spy scattered evidence of many years of racketeering: a bullet hole patched in the wall here, a stain of god-knows-what scrubbed from the rug there. A gun safe tucked under the couch, even, the door flung open in Arthur’s haste to run after Finn’s assailants. Not a fortress by any means, if the twice-repaired bottom lock on the door was any indication, but somewhat of a safe haven for a family plagued by tragedy. A safe haven no more, he thought, shaking his head to clear the accusation away. No, this house had seen its fair share of violence before him. But this… this stalking, this couldn’t be normal going by Tommy’s reaction.

“I’m afraid,” the aforementioned man rumbled, “that Birmingham isn’t safe, either.”

Fia scoffed. An understatement from the start, her sidelong glance said.

“We can leave,” Sam said hastily, already grabbing Fia’s hand and making for the door. Tommy blocked their way, standing in such a way that there was no looking away from the winter coldness of his gaze. The fear in it, too, if Sam looked deeply enough.

“No,” Tommy said, patting Sam’s shoulder lightly. “No, no. Too risky to go alone. I couldn’t…” he glanced at where Fia had placed a protective hand over her belly, a habit she’d developed in the past few months, “...couldn’t live with myself if something went wrong.”

“Or you want to keep us under supervision, aye?” Fia grumbled, ignoring the way Sam shot her an admonishing look.

Tommy rubbed a hand down his face, visibly drained. “I want you to be safe,” he said. “It’s the least I can do. Just… just until this goes away. Until we can figure out who’s been after us.”

“Safe where?” Now Fia sounded anxious, the reality setting in that there really was nowhere to run if danger could be around any corner. “If we can’t go back, but we can’t stay here…”

“Warwickshire,” Tommy said. “I’ve property there, acres of it. Samuel and I,” he nodded towards him, which Sam rather wished he hadn’t, because the responding look Fia gave him was downright betrayed, “we discussed setting you up for the winter. The cold road’s no place for a new mother.”

Fia saw the reason in it. She had to, if she knew what kind of winter they’d be in for with a baby and a threat on Sam’s head. With one last we’re talking about this later look at Sam, she nodded. “If we have no other options.”

“Trust me,” Tommy said grimly, “there are no other options.”

[byte-your-tongue]

What I'm Willing To Write

Content:

x reader romantic

x reader platonic (default unless you specify)

x reader familial

x reader queerplatonic

fluff

canon x canon ships

i'm bad with angst sometimes but i can try

gore/horror

specific reader traits(to a certain extent)

poly ships

queer reader

gender neutral reader(default unless you specify)

female reader

transfem reader

trandmasc reader

nonhuman reader

if something isn't listed feel free to ask!

Fandoms/Characters:

Splatoon (Marie, Callie, Shiver, Frye, Big Man, Marina, Pearl, Harmony, the agents(IF ROMANTIC I WILL ASSUME THEY ARE ADULTS. OTHERWISE SPECIFY AGE), Acht, Finn, Spyke, Sheldon, Mr.Grizz, Tartar, Octavio, Warabi, Yoko, Tao Blu, Kiki)

Overwatch (Pretty much any of the playable characters but i have a better grasp on some of their characters than others, Maximilien)

Rick and Morty (Rick, Beth, Rick Prime, Summer, Morty, Unity)

Honkai Impact 3rd (Kiana, Mei, Bronya, Otto, Welt, Void Archives, all Flame Chasers, Klein(human and ELF), Dr.MEI, Senti, Fu Hua, Roza and Lili, Sushang, Theresa, Coralie, Songque, Sera, Thelema, Helia, Senadina, Lantern, Himeko, Ai-Chan, Durandal, Rita, Susanah, Kallen, Sakura, Siegfried, Tesla, Einstein, Seele, Seele(other), Sin Mal, Cocolia, Gray Serpent, Raven, Sirin, Any Captainsverse Characters) APHO VERSIONS OF MEI AND BRONYA ARE AVAILABLE FOR ROMANCE, BUT NOT THEIR TEEN COUNTERPARTS.)

Honkai Star Rail(Welt.... again..., Himeko, Dan Heng, Trailblazer, March 7th, Bronya, Seele, Sampo, Sushang, Herta, Natasha.) As i play more i'll add more characters to this list

Dungeon Meshi (All of the Touden Party, Mithrun, Thistle, Kabru)

Mario Games (Peach, Daisy, Luigi)

Soul Eater(Maka, Kid, Soul, Black*Star, Liz, Patty, Tsubaki, Crona, Ragnarok, Meme, Anya, Tsugumi, Kilik, Ox, Ragnarok, Kim, Jackie, Stein, Spirit, Medusa, Azusa, Sid, Naigus, Blair, Eruka, Giriko, Arachne, Mifune, Marie)

Pokemon(Akari, Rei, Volo, Adaman, Irida, Ingo, Emmet, Elesa, Guzma, Hilda, Selene, Arven, Nemona, Penny, Leon, Raihan, Melony, Allister, Cilan(anime), Iris, Korrina, Skyla, Nessa, Kabu, Cynthia, Kukui, Gloria, Jessie(anime), James(anime), Meowth(anime), Lana, Kiawe, Sophocles, Mallow, Lillie, Faba, N) You can Specify Anime or Game Counterpart For Some Characters, Feel Free To Ask :)

Wakfu(show)(Yugo, Amalia, Dally, Rubilax, Remington and Grany, Eva, Ruel, Qilby, Nox)

My Little Pony G4(Mane Six, Discord, CMC, Luna, Celestia)

Obey Me!(Mammon, Lucifer, Satan, Leviathan, Asmodeus, Beelzebub, Luke, Diavolo, Barbatos)

Undertale(Pretty much anyone)

Roblox: Pressure( Painter and Sebastian)

What I'm NOT Willing To Write

Content:

NSFW content (im aro ace and just not comfortable with it)

Pedophilia/Lolicon/Shotacon/Underage

Zoophilia

Incest (including stepcest)

Reader character being seriously mean to a character. (it makes me sad to think about anyone being seriously rude to a character... enemies to lovers/friendly teasing/rivalries/etc are all allowed, just no serious rudeness to characters.)

Pokephilia

amab male reader. (i am afab genderfluid and just don't have any perspective on this. sorry!)

Fandoms/Characters:

Harry Potter (self explanatory)

Jerry Smith (just don't like him)

Belphegor (i don't take pleasure from writing him....)

[qosbaez]

Who do I write for?

Well, find out below the cut

Poly!Judgement Day - includes all different pairings - ie Rhea x Damian.

Brollins

Charlynch

The Four Horsewomen - WWE - includes all different pairings - ie Becky x Bayley.

The Four Horsewomen - UFC - includes all different pairings - ie Marina x Ronda.

Brody - Brandi & Cody

Baysha - Bayley & Sasha

Demonhugger - Bayley & Finn

Demonboss - Finn & Sasha

Poly!Damage CTRL - includes all different pairings - ie Bayley x Asuka.

Browsey - Ronda & Travis

Rouszler - Ronda & Shayna

Shaykota - Shayna & Dakota

The BRE - includes all different pairings - ie Mia x Jessamyn.

Glowish - Jimmy & Trinity

Ronattie - Ronda & Nattie

Queen of Harts - Shayna & Ronda

Team Bestie - Trish & Lita

Cheddie - Chyna & Eddie

The Authority - Stephanie & Hunter

RnR - Rhea & Raquel

Moriguez - Liv & Raquel

Liv 4 Brutality - Rhea & Liv

Index - Indi & Dexter

Rhuddy - Rhea & Buddy

Poly!House of Black - includes all different pairings - ie Brody x Julia

Moxuette - Mox & Renee

Poly!Outcasts - includes all different pairings - ie Saraya x Toni

The Rated R Couple - Edge & Lita

Ships without names - suggestions are welcome

Rhea Ripley x Roman Reigns

Rhea Ripley x Roman Reigns x Natalya Neidhart

Beth Phoenix x Natalya Neidhart

Candice LeRae x Indi Hartwell

Lyra Valkyria x Becky Lynch

Charlotte Flair x Andrade el Idolo

Jade Cargill x Bianca Belair

Aleister Black x Zelina Vega

Zoey Stark x Shayna Baszler

Zoey Stark x Trish Stratus

Karrion Kross x Scarlett Bordeaux

Dakota Kai x Cathy Kelley

Rhea Ripley x Cathy Kelley

Lyra Valkyrie x Tatum Paxley

Beth Phoenix x Adam Copeland

Damian Priest x Iyo Sky

[blackcharactertournament]

Black Character Tournament: Left Side!

adding a post break to make this more rebloggable

—

Chidi Anagonye | The Good Place vs Bow | She-Ra & the Princesses of Power

Marina Ida | Splatoon vs Youngblood Ra | Roleslaying with Roman

Barret Wallace | Final Fantasy VII vs Lunella Lafayette/Moon Girl | Moon Girl and Devil Dinosaur

Lucas Sinclair | Stranger Things vs Gus Porte | The Owl House

Carole Stanley | Carole and Tuesday vs Garnet | Steven Universe

Aisha/Layla | Winx Club vs Carter Kane and Sadie Kane | The Kane Chronicles

Martha Jones | Doctor Who vs Death | Sandman (TV)

Finn | Star Wars vs Oluwande Boodhari | Our Flag Means Death

Leshawna | Total Drama vs Sonic the Hedgehog | Sonic the Hedgehog

Jodie Landon | Daria vs Helen Brand | Glass Onion

Wolf | Kipo and the Age of Wonderbeasts vs Benson | Kipo and the Age of Wonderbeasts

Mike Hanlon | IT (Steven King) vs Burton Guster | Psych

Flow | Roleslaying With Roman vs Nasuada | Inheritance Cycle/Eragon Trilogy

Jordan Hennessey | Dreamer Trilogy vs Ava Coleman | Abbott Elementary

Duke Thomas | DC Comics vs Mel Medarda | Arcane

Molly Blyndeff | Epithet Erased vs Michael Burnham | Star Trek Discovery

Neena Thurman (Domino) | Marvel comics / Deadpool 2 vs Nyota Uhura | Star Trek The Original Series

Gregory Eddie | Abbott Elementary vs Kipo Oak | Kipo and the Age of Wonderbeasts

Elena Amamiya | Star Twinkle Precure vs Simon Aumar | Dungeons and Dragons: Honor Among Thieves

Karli Morgenthau | MCU: The Falcon and the Winter Soldier vs Enfys Nest | Star Wars: A Solo Story

Connor Hawke/Green Arrow | DC Comics vs Myla | One Last Stop

Winston Bishop | New Girl vs Khalil Harris | The Hate U Give

T'Challa | Black Panther vs Dr. Charlotte | Falsettos (Revival)

Gigi Thompson | Inside Job vs Isaiah | One Last Stop

Ivan Taylor | The Wilds vs Nathan Byrne | The Bastard Son & the Devil Himself

Miranda Bailey | Grey's Anatomy vs Essun | Broken Earth Trilogy

Agent 355 | Y : The Last Man vs Audacious Opportunity (A.O.) Rooke | Friends at the Table (Partizan)

OJ Haywood | Nope 2022 vs Nubia | Wonder Woman

Mr Nancy | American Gods vs Storm | X Men

Ambrose Spellman | Chilling Adventures of Sabrina vs Louis | The Walking Dead Game

Angela Moore | Boy Meets World vs Hilary Banks | The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air

Junko Saotome | Nana vs Wes Gibbins | How to Get Away with Murder

Turk | Scrubs vs Wallace Fennel | Veronica Mars

Frozone | The Incredibles vs Kendra Young | Buffy the Vampire Slayer

Joelle Brooks | Dear White People vs Sans | Undertale

Anissa Pierce/Thunder | Black Lightning vs Koriand'r/Starfire | Titans (DC TV show)

Andre Harris | Victorious vs Sara | Over the Garden Wall

Samol | Friends at the Table vs Taion | Xenoblade Chronicles 3

Emerald Haywood | Nope (2022) vs Genly Ai | The Left Hand of Darkness

Sarah Miller | The Last of Us (TV) vs Pinkie Pie | My Little Pony

Muhammed Avdol | Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure vs Dr Foreman | House MD

Efi Oladele | Overwatch vs Jason Hauer | We only find them when they are dead

Bram Greenfeld | Simon vs. the Homo Sapiens Agenda / Love, Simon vs Zélie Adebola | Children of Blood and Bone

Nick Fury | Marvel vs Sam Wilson | MCU

Uniqua | The Backyardigans vs Alexx Woods | CSI Miami

Rue | Euphoria vs Bill Potts | Doctor Who

Nadine Ross | Uncharted series vs Jalil Sherman | Everworld

Baal (Valentine) | The Wicked + the Divine vs Jamal Saturday | Locke and Key (comics)

[pinkpoppymoon]

Thanks for the tag girlies 🤍So I don’t write myself but love the idea of this!! Also I’m just gonna add why I think of these scenes, because why not 🤷‍♀️

Nobody's Home by Avril Lavigne (poor Hope just wants her family back) Teen spirit, Carl Grimes x reader @topazy

Another Love by Tom Odell (makes me think of Astra going through her depression period of guilt after the Cassandra/10k incident, and then when 10k ‘dies’) Inside, outside, 10k x reader @topazy

Savages by MARINA (I’ve seen the first three parts of Georgina’s unpublished fic ‘Sweet viper’ and this songs matches it so perfectly) Oberyn Martell x reader @starogeorgina

Brutal by Olivia Rodrigo (because I am the founder of the Milo hate club, and this is our anthem) In the shadows, Stiles Stilinski x reader @topazy

Mother's Daughter by Miley Cyrus (even though the mother/daughter relationship is really toxic and Lulana is a good person, unlike Kate. the lyrics ‘Or that I'm my mother's daughter’ makes me want Lu to channel her inner Kate, and let loose on all the men who keep fucking up her life) Hunted, Liam Dunbar x reader @topazy

Gilded Lily by Cults (the lyrics ‘Haven't I given, given enough?’ ‘Always the fool with the slowest heart’ is very Alicent and Daya for me, because the sweet girl just needs to catch a break and Alicent is very manipulating towards her daughter!) The eye of the dragon, Jacaerys Velaryon x reader @starogeorgina

Through Glass by Stone Sour (reminds me of Bellamy x reader x Finn triangle) Bellamy Blake x reader @topazy

Little Girl Gone by CHINCHILLA (makes me think of Theo burning ** alive, which was so satisfying) Children of the dragon, Aegon Targaryen x reader @starogeorgina

Hurts Like Hell by Fleurie (it screams Sub Rosa angst) Sub Rosa, Bellamy Blake x reader @slytherinbarnes

The fruits by Paris Paloma (I am here for any and all war crimes Viola will commit) Unbroken, Aemond Targaryen x reader @starogeorgina

I’ve not kept track of who’s been tagged already, but anyone is free to join in on this game💕

I couldn’t find the original post I saw with this tag game, but thought it looked so fun!

Put your phone on shuffle and put the first fanfiction (yours or someone else's) that you think of for the song it lands on 💕

Thank you so much for this!!! 💙

Angels Like You (Miley Cyrus) - Violent delights Jacaerys x reader

Wings (Birdie) - @topazy Inside, outside 10k x reader

Past Lives Redemption Ivar x reader

Follow You (Bring Me The Horizon) - Killer queen Aemond Targaryen x reader

Silence (Marshmello, Khalid) - @topazy Teen spirit Carl Grimes x reader

Revenge (XXXTENTACION) - @topazy Unspoken lies John Murphy x reader

Labour (Paris Paloma) - Ghosts in the sky Aegon Targaryen x reader

Pony (Ginuwine) - @bucknastysbabe ALL Criston Cole smut

The Bad Touch (Bloodhound Gang) - @justinalovee Aplogies & Needy Daemon x reader x Rhaenyra

I wait for u (outerplanets) - Broken bonds Harwin Strong x reader

Tagging: @topazy @justinalovee @bucknastysbabe @no-damsel @pinkpoppymoon @aemonds-holy-milk

[unwind-trash]

Just had to draw out my feelings after reading All Our Yesterdays.

it’s messy and cheesy as hell but hey! I feel better after drawing it

[hannahhook7744]

Jake and the Neverland pirates, ouat versions

[elliearchive]

LOCATION: Mari (and Finn)’s house.

TIME FRAME: 10/28, afternoon.

OPEN TO: @mutyler

It was more difficult than it may seem, coparenting a dog. Ringo probably didn’t enjoy going from one place to the next and missing one of his puppy parents while he was with the other, and it was hard to make a set schedule with their jobs, so sometimes he’d be gone a week, sometimes a weekend. This time, it had been only one day and night, and Marina found herself paying attention to the cars passing by outside of the window rather than the television, just waiting for Finn’s to pull up.

Of course she’d missed Ringo, she always did when he was with Finn, but she was more so looking out for her ex, each new glimpse of him causing her heart to flutter the way it did four years ago, only now it would ache, too. That familiar feeling crept into her chest as the car finally pulled into view, and Marina had to give herself a mental pep talk as she walked from the couch and over to the door, opening it a little too eagerly. She grinned at the dog as he was helped out of the vehicle, then sent Finn a small smile of his own, heart hurting because she knew that was all she could offer.

[pavlikvosbi]

Do you think Theo really loved pippa?

Not really, I believe that in the beginning, he might have liked her romantically and it slowly turned into a obsession, he “fell in love” with the image of her in his head, even though that he would be the only person to truly love her “entirely”, his feelings for Pippa are unhealthy and really obsessive. Theo is a complex character that clearly has loads of intern conflicts and that has been through a lot at a young age, his “feelings” bear insanity, something that can be easily noticed by how he describes her, I also like to think that his obsession got worse when he fell for Boris, turning Pippa into a way of representing his interest for a boy.

[chattahoochiecoochie]

A Different Man

Summary: Kimi Raikkonen abandons the Monaco Grand Prix after a mechanical failure to spend some time with his girlfriend.

Word Count: 2k

Translations: I google translated this shit, let my dumb american ass live. Kulta/Gold   Kultsi/Gold Lauranen/Added Suffix Implies Affection

A/N: I got the softest ask in the world for this. I worked out a few things and of course, I had to include everyone's least favorite oc, but you can still read this as x reader. Everything else I've written for Kimi can be found here. Cheers.

“And there goes Kimi Raikkonen. Lap fifty-one, albeit a pretty impressive race and he seems to be stopping, and there it is, on fire. The second and third man out now, Raikkonen along with Daniel Riccardo will be out for the remainder here in Monaco…”

Laura tightened her grip on her friend's arm. She was standing in the back of the garage with her friend Greta, and a few other mid level staff. The televisions were playing out footage of the safety car and though she’d heard Kimi’s familiar rasp over the radio moments earlier, her heart began to gallop at the sight of his car in flames.

Static came through the radio, followed by several curse words, and then finally, an angry sigh. More static followed, overwhelming the sound of Kimi letting out a stream of frustration.

“He’ll be fine, the safety car is right there.” Greta leaned down, craning her neck to whisper to Laura who was now visibly nervous. The words didn’t help. She watched intently as the smoke rose from the rear of his car, and she squinted when he finally moved within the cockpit, tossing out the steering wheel before climbing out after it.

“And that’ll be a long walk back to the Paddock for Kimi Raikkonen. No doubt he will be upset, I reckon everyone else at Ferrari will be pretty mad today too.”

“He’s not coming back, is he?” Greta looked at the screen, watching closely as the cameras followed the Finn down to the water's edge.

“Nope.”

“Right.”

The two women stared in silence, watching the screen Kimi continued to stray further from the trackside. Laura began to ring her hands. He’d have to answer for it if he disappeared in the middle of the race. She would have to answer for his absence, and for her own if she followed him. Girlfriend or not, she was still expected to have him on a leash.

A constant voice of poor reasoning and bad decision making, Greta spoke up. “I’ll cover you. Go. Go get him. I’ll guide you from here.” She pointed to the screen, knowing that without help, Laura wouldn’t find her way to Kimi on the cordoned-off streets.

“Are you sure?” Laura knew it was a horrible plan, she knew that she should buckle down and manage the headache, here, in the garage. “I’ll owe you one.” It didn’t matter.

“There goes Daniel Riccardo. You’d think he and Kimi would be making the walk back together but it looks like Riccardo is hitching a ride on the tow truck. Do we have Raikkonen on camera…There he is… still got his helmet on, has he?”

Laura slipped out quietly, ducking behind the pit crew that was scrambling to get ready for the arrival of Kimi’s car. Holding her breath, she pressed the phone to her chest and moved along the wall of the pit lane, walking quickly past each garage opening. Nearing the end, she broke into a jog, trying not to sprint as she crossed in front of Mercedes.

If she could just get across and make it to the water’s edge, she’d be home free. No one in the press was looking for a free shot of a wag, they were too busy covering the safety car and resulting yellow flags.

“Okay he’s coming down along turn ten now, wait hold on it looks like eleven.” Greta paused. “It’s turn eleven. Where are you?”

“Thirteen. How close is he to the dock, he’s right there, right?” She had a pretty good view of the boats lining the marina. It took a fair amount of running to get down to the waterside, but she was heading in the right direction.

“Close. You’ll just catch him if you run. Hold on, he’s turning back.”

“Where’s he going?” Laura looked around, searching for the indicators that she recalled from the year before. Dock ahead. She was so close, now was not the time for him to back track.

“He dropped something he’s heading back towards you. I think it was a glove.”

“The boats in between twelve and eleven I’m coming on twelve now, can you still see him.”

“The camera cut back to Daniel, hold on.” Greta sighed loudly into the receiver. “They're doing a wide shot of the Marina.”

There was cursing in the background, she could hear the garage roaring to life behind Greta. His car had arrived. People were looking for him.

“I’ve got to go. You’re right there. He was just passing turn eleven, you’re ahead.” The phone clicked.

Laura broke into a run, pushing her way down the waterside at a sprint. She wouldn’t be able to keep it up for long but it would put her safely ahead of him. She might even be able to cut him off before he hit the docks entrance.

There. At the very end of the dock, a burst of red fabric. A shock of silver hit the light, his helmet. Laura slowed her run to a jog and then cut herself back to a walk. She smoothed the front of her shirt and began to fidget with her hair. He was only fifty yards away now. Spotting his yacht, she cut away from a crowd of people standing in the middle of the dock and made for the ramp leading up to the deck.

“Laura?”

“Thought you’d be able to get away from me?” She smirked, cocking her hip to the side as she stood in front of the ramp, blocking his path. “Come on Iceman, I need a beer.”

People on the dock around them seemed to be taking note of the man still in a racing suit and helmet, it wouldn’t be long before the cameras descended onto the marina. She held out a hand, taking hold of his before leading them up the ramp, into the private safety of the deck.

Leaving Kimi to get undressed behind her, she made her way to the bar, turning on the tv as she searched through the fridge for something cold to drink. “Beer? Champagne is probably inappropriate, no?”

There was a loud sigh followed by the sound of feet scuffing against the floor. Laura peeked up from behind the bar to see Kimi sinking onto a couch, his suit tied around his waist, helmet discarded on the floor.

“Kimi?” She called his name, wondering if he had already started to drift away from the day.

“I don’t care.” Beer for him then. She dug out two bottles, spotting an unopened bottle of wine at the back of the fridge. And wine for me, thought Laura.

With the bottles under her arm, she scooped up a bottle opener and a wine glass someone had left out from the night before. It donned her, as she grabbed the stem of the glass, that this was decidedly different from the life she had once imagined. She looked out at the deck, squinted her eyes to cut through the glare of the sunlight.

There on the couch, was her whole world, a man she’d just broken every rule to be here with. Different from the life she’d imagined, she wouldn’t trade it for anything. They could deal with the consequences tomorrow, for now, she’d run a long way to catch him, and they had a race to finish.

“Here.” She turned to her side, offering him the bottles she had stuck under her forearm. He pulled gently, trying not to scratch her with the caps. “So what happened out there? The radio went static after the smoke started.”

“That fucking engine…” He began to ramble incoherently, speaking under his breath. “…Always something…these fucking idiots.”

“There's a two week break now. You can talk to Maurizio.” She sat down on the couch next to him, twisting to sit on her knees so she could lean over onto his shoulder. “Did you see Daniel rode the car back on the tow truck?”

“Are you mad I came here?” He looked down at her, shifting his weight to get a better look at her face.

“A little. I had to run to catch you.” She laughed, pouring heavily into her wine glass. She could see him smirk from the corner of her eye.

“My poor Lauranen.”

“We’re gonna be in so much trouble tomorrow, I had Greta cover for us, but it won’t last.” She sighed, taking a swig from the glass. Laura held the wine in her mouth, breathing in through her nose before swallowing finally, another sigh coming out as she parted her lips to take another sip.

Kimi put an arm around her shoulder, pulling her off her knees and into his lap so he could hold her. He seemed distant, like he was far away in thought. “Maybe I should just retire.”

“And do what?” He’d be hopelessly bored, sitting at home with her all day, she knew that for certain. She wished he would retire sometimes. Maybe they could get away from it all and start a different life somewhere. They could run away, just the two of them. But he’d be bored in an instant. He was compelled by something neither of them understood, it would never be so simple as just retiring.

“Bother you all day, probably.” Laura giggled, pressing a kiss to his neck as she settled down in his arms.

“You’d be bored, Iceman.”

Kimi put a hand on her thigh, tracing the skin of her thigh, coming dangerously close to the hem of her shorts. Laura looked up, catching a smirk on his lips. “I’m never bored with you, Kultsi.”

Before she could get comfortable under his touch or soothe the fire he was starting in her stomach, his fingers curled and his arm jolted. Digging into her waist he began to tickle her, holding his beer high in the air with his free hand so as not to spill over them both. Shrieking with laughter, she writhed in his lap, twisting to free herself from his assault.

“Stop, baby, please!” Laura let out a shrill laugh, trying to fight him off with her wine glass, threatening to tip it onto his undershirt. He stilled slowly, his chest heaving as he sat back in his seat.

“One day we will go away. Just the two of us.” He pressed a kiss to her cheek, hovering over her like he was sharing a secret. “I love you, Lauranen.”

“I love you too, old man.” Laura grinned up at him, a glimmer in her eyes as she goaded him.

Kimi set down his beer, taking back up his assault on her in a flash. With both hands he pinched and tickled at her hips, rough laughter spilling off his lips as she fought against him.

“I love you, I love you, Kimi!” Laura screamed, twisting into his chest, burying her face against the fabric of his shirt. “You’re not even that old!” His hands softened, steady on her like a threat, testing her.

“So mean, my little Kultsi.” Kimi leaned down to her once more, pressing his lips against her neck, his breath hot against her ear as he whispered.

“Kimi—” Laura put a hand on his shoulder, pointing her chin to the television playing behind the bar top. “We’re on tv.”

“I don’t know what we expected from the Iceman but it wasn’t this, was it? Kimi Raikkonen ladies and gentlemen, back on his yacht. That's his girlfriend there…The pair of them seem to be quite cozy, must not be that upset I suppose. Seems awfully happy now, quite a change from just an hour ago when his car put him out of the race. My wife has the same effect on me, ha…Different than what I pictured, I’ll say that much…Yes and back to you Mark…”

[promenadewithme]

First of all, I want to thank all of you so much for the follows, likes, comments, reblogs and support in general! I can't believe I hit 50 followers so soon! I know it’s not much, but I actually didn’t expect any at all so I’m so happy!! Thank you ❤️

Now, this is how the celebration is going to work: first you chose a song and a character. Then send it to my requests with your pronoun of choice, along with any other specifications and I'll write you a fic based on the song! You can either send the song or specific quotes as prompts

To find the fics I will write, use the #Anastasia's 50 followers celebration

This event starts today (May 20th) and ends June 10th

Support Me on Ko-Fi - if you’re feeling generous 💕

Songs:

Fluff (Romantic)

Paper Rings - Taylor Swift

London Boy - Taylor Swift

Love Story - Taylor Swift

Lover - Taylor Swift

King of My Heart - Taylor Swift

Willow - Taylor Swift

Crazier - Taylor Swift

New Year’s Day - Taylor Swift

Daylight - Taylor Swift

Jump Then Fall - Taylor Swift

How You Get The Girl - Taylor Swift

You Are In Love - Taylor Swift

It’s Nice To Have A Friend - Taylor Swift

Today Was A Fairytale - Taylor Swift

State Of Grace - Taylor Swift

Mine - Taylor Swift

Delicate - Taylor Swift

Say You Won't Let Go - James Arthur

Naked - James Arthur

Rewrite The Stars - James Arthur + Anne-Marie

I Won't Give Up - Jason Mraz

I'm Yours - Jason Mraz

Thinking Out Loud - Ed Sheeran

Tenerife Sea - Ed Sheeran

How Would You Feel (Paean) - Ed Sheeran

Kiss Me - Ed Sheeran

Afterglow - Ed Sheeran

Lego House - Ed Sheeran

Dive - Ed Sheeran

Galway Girl - Ed Sheeran

Everything Has Changed - Ed Sheeran + Taylor Swift

I Was Made For Loving You - Tori Kelly + Ed Sheeran

Make You Feel My Love -Adele

One Call Away - Charlie Puth

Chasing Cars - Snow Patrol

Just The Way You Are - Bruno Mars

Count On Me - Bruno Mars

Little Things - One Direction

Night Changes - One Direction

Can't Help Falling In Love - Elvis Presley

Andante, Andante - ABBA

Waterloo - ABBA

All Of Me - John Legend

Ocean Eyes - Billie Eilish

Snowman - Sia

A Thousand Years - Christina Perri

Arms - Christina Perri

Teenage Dream - Katy Perry

Halo - Beyoncé

The Only Exception - Paramore

Dandelions - Ruth B

Someone To You - BANNERS

Would You Be So Kind - Dodie

Someone You Like - The Girl and The Dreamcatcher

If I Could Tell Her - Ben Platt 

Absolutely Smitten - Dodie

How Long Will I Love - Ellie Goulding

Angst (Romantic)

Good 4 u - Olivia Rodrigo

Drivers License - Olivia Rodrigo

Deja Vu - Olivia Rodrigo

Brutal - Olivia Rodrigo

Traitor - Olivia Rodrigo

Enough For You - Olivia Rodrigo

1 step forward, 3 steps back - Olivia Rodrigo

Happier - Olivia Rodrigo

Jealousy, Jealousy- Olivia Rodrigo

Favourite Crime - Olivia Rodrigo

Hope Ur Ok - Olivia Rodrigo

Betty - Taylor Swift

Exile - Taylor Swift

Teardrops On My Guitar - Taylor Swift

Wildest Dreams - Taylor Swift

Tolerate It - Taylor Swift

You’re Not Sorry - Taylor Swift

Should’ve Said No - Taylor Swift

White Horse - Taylor Swift

You Belong With Me - Taylor Swift

My Tears Ricochet - Taylor Swift

Back to December - Taylor Swift

Breathe - Taylor Swift

The 1 - Taylor Swift

All Too Well - Taylor Swift

Invisible String - Taylor Swift

Evermore - Taylor Swift

Lose You To Love Me - Selena Gomez

The Heart Wants What It Wants - Selena Gomez

When I Was Your Man -Bruno Mars

Someone Like You - Adele

Hello - Adele

All I Ask - Adele

Let Her Go - Passenger

Say Something - A Great Big World

Stay With Me - Sam Smith

California King Bed - Rihanna

Take a Bow - Rihanna

Broken Hearted Girl - Beyoncé

Tonight I Wanna Cry - Keith Urban

The Winner Takes It All - ABBA

SOS - ABBA

One Of Us - ABBA

Half a Heart - One Direction

Yesterday - The Beatles

If The World Was Ending - Julia Michaels

Colors - Halsey

Happier - Ed Sheeran

One Last Time - Ariana Grande

Why’d You Only Call Me When You High - Artic Monkeys

Play Date - Melanie Martinez

Just a Friend to You - Meghan Trainor

All I Want - Kodaline

Love You From A Distance - Ashley Kutcher

Potential Breakup Song - Aly & AJ

I Don’t Wanna See You With Her - Maria Mena

Let Her Go - Passenger

All My Tears - Ane Brun

Always On My Mind - Elvis Presley

Someone to you - Lewis Capaldi 

Before You Go - Lewis Capaldi

Others

Sit Still, Look Pretty - Daya

How To Be A Heartbreaker - MARINA

No Body, No Crime - Taylor Swift

Look What You Made Me Do - Taylor Swift

Blank Space - Taylor Swift

You Need To Calm Down - Taylor Swift

Getaway Car -Taylor Swift

Gorgeous - Taylor Swift

Bad Blood - Taylor Swift

The Man - Taylor Swift

22 - Taylor Swift

Dorothea - Taylor Swift

Marjorie - Taylor Swift

The Best Day - Taylor Swift

Mirrorball - Taylor Swift

I Forgot That You Existed - Taylor Swift

This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things - Taylor Swift

The Lakes - Taylor Swift

The Last Great American Dynasty - Taylor Swift

Since U Been Gone - Kelly Clarkson

When I Kissed The Teacher - ABBA

I Have A Dream - ABBA

I've Been Waiting For You - ABBA

You'll Be In My Heart - Phil Collins

Titanium - David Guetta (feat. Sia)

F**ckin' Perfect - P!nk

New Rules - Dua Lipa

IDGAF - Dua Lipa

Bad Guy - Billie Eilish

You Should See Me in A Crown - Billie Eilish

COPYCAT - Billie Eilish

Count On Me - Bruno Mars

Stand By You - Rachel Platten

Firework - Katy Perry

Because You Loved Me - Céline Dion

See You Again - Wiz Khalifa + Charlie Puth

NO - Meghan Trainor

Skyfall - Adele

Gasoline - Halsey

Castle On The Hill - Ed Sheeran

Save Myself - Ed Sheeran

Supermarket Flowers - Ed Sheeran

Small Bump - Ed Sheeran

Growing Up - Macklemore, Ryan Lewis, Ed Sheeran

7 Rings - Ariana Grande

Bad Liar - Selena Gomez

Rare - Selena Gomez

Who Says - Selena Gomez

I Turn To You - Christina Aguilera

Till There Was You - The Beatles

Sweetest Devotion - Adele

ps: sorry, I'm a Swiftie and a Sheerio <3

Characters

Character x fem! or GN! reader (ROMANTIC)

ACOTAR: Rhysand, Cassian, Azriel, Lucien, Helion, Tarquin, kallias and Tamlin.

BRIDGERTON: Anthony Bridgerton, Benedict Bridgerton, Colin Bridgerton and Simon Basset.

GRISHAVERSE: Nikolai, Mal, The Darkling, Kaz, Matthias, Jesper, Wylan and David.

THRONE OF GLASS: Dorian Havilliard and Chaol Westfall.

HARRY POTTER: Harry, Ron, Neville, Draco, George, Fred, Oliver, Cedric, Young Sirius, Young James and Young Remus.

PRIDE AND PREJUDICE: Mr Darcy and Mr Bingley.

MARVEL: Steve, Bucky, Sam, Pietro, Loki, Thor, Peter Parker, Ned, Tony, Bruce, Vision, Clint, T'Challa, Scott Lang, James Rhodes, Peter Quill and Stephen Strange.

THE HUNGER GAMES: Peeta, Gale and Finnick.

GREY'S ANATOMY: Derek Shepherd, Andrew DeLuca, Alex Karev, Jackson Avery, Mark Sloan, George O'Malley, Link, Koracick and Ben Warren.

TEEN WOLF: Scott, Stiles, Derek, Isaac, Liam and Jackson.

THE VAMPIRE DIARIES: Damon, Stefan, Matt, Klaus, Elijah and Kai.

NARNIA: Peter, Edmund and Caspian.

STAR WARS: Anakin, Obi Wan, Kylo, Han, Luke, Poe, Finn and Din Djarin.

Character x platonic!/sis!/bro!/enemy!/daughter!/son!/mentor!/or anything else platonic Reader

ACOTAR: Rhysand, Cassian, Azriel, Feure, Nesta, Elain, Mor, Amren, Nyx, Lucien, Tarquin, Helion, Kallias, Tamlin, Ianthe, Suriel and Bone Carver.

GRISHAVERSE: Nikolai, Mal, Darkling, David, Alina, Bahgra, Zoya, Tamar, Tolya, Apparat, Kaz, Matthias, Jesper, Wylan, Nina, Inej, Tantee Heleen and Pekka Rollins.

THRONE OF GLASS: Dorian, Chaol and Aelin.

BRIDGERTON: Anthony, Benedict, Colin; Daphne, Eloise, Francesca, Gregory, Hyacinth, Lady Violet, Simon, Lady Danbury, Penelope, Lady Portia Featherington, Marina, Sienna, Genevieve, Cressida and Queen Charlotte.

HARRY POTTER: Harry, Ron, Hermione, Neville, Ginny, Luna, Draco, George, Fred, Oliver, Cedric, Cho, Seamus, Fleur, Pansy, Myrtle, Sirius (old or young), James (old or young), Remus (old or young), Lily (old or young), Molly, Arthur, Bill, Percy, Charlie, Xenophilus Lovegood, Snape, Dumbledore, McGonagall, Hagrid, Moody, Flitwick, Umbridge, Bellatrix, Voldemort, Lucius, Narcissa, Peter Pettigrew, Helga Hufflepuff, Salazar Slytherin, Godric Gryffindor, Rowena Ravenclaw, Dobby and Nearly Headless Nick.

PRIDE AND PREJUDICE: Mr Darcy, Georgiana Darcy, Mr Bingley, Caroline Bingley, Elizabeth Bennet, Jane Bennet, Mary Bennet, Lydia Bennet, Catherine Bennet, Charlotte Lucas, Wickam, Mr Collins, Mr Bennet, Mrs Bennet.

MARVEL: Steve, Peggy, Sharon, Natasha, Bucky, Sam, Carol, Monica Rambeau, Pietro, Wanda, Agatha Harkness, Loki, Frigga, Odin, Hela, Thor, Heimdall, Jane Foster, Darcy Lewis, Valkyrie, Peter Parker, Ned, MJ, Tony, Pepper, Morgan, Happy, Howard, Bruce, Vision, Clint, T'Challa, Shuri, Scott, Hope, Hank, Cassie, James Rhodes, Peter Quill, Gamora, Mantis, Nebula, Groot, Rocket, Drax, Stephen Strange, Wong, Nick Fury, Phil Coulson, Maria Hill, Thanos, Ancient One, Red Skull, Ultron, John Walker and Zemo.

THE HUNGER GAMES: Katniss, Peeta, Gale, Finnick, Haymitch, Rue, President Snow, Primrose, Effie, Cinna and Johanna.

GREY'S ANATOMY: Meredith, Derek, Andrew, Alex, Jackson, Mark, Lexie, Cristina, April, Izzie, George, Callie, Owen, Addison, Arizona, Miranda, Amelia, Link, Burke, Teddy, Maggie, Richard, Carina, Ben Warren, Megan Hunt, Ellis Grey, Catherine Avery and Tom Koracick.

TEEN WOLF: Scott, Stiles, Malia, Lydia, Allison, Derek, Isaac, Liam, Jackson, Peter Hale, Chris Argent, Sheriff Stilinski, Kira, Melissa McCall and Noshiko Yukimura.

THE VAMPIRE DIARIES: Damon, Elena, Katherine, Stefan, Caroline, Bonnie, Jenna, Klaus, Elijah, Rebeka, Sheriff Forbes, Kai and Lexi.

NARNIA: Peter, Susan, Edmund, Lucy, Caspian and Aslan.

STAR WARS: Anakin, Padme, Yoda, Jarjar, Obi Wan, Kylo, Rey, Han, Leia, Luke, Poe, Finn and Din Djarin and Grogu.

No pressure tags: @venuswritesfanfic @for-bebbanburg @maggiescarborough @multifandomfix @sweetnspicysimp @lazypeachsoul @magravenwrites