#they approached him like me and my wife saw you across the bar

[kitratre]

Have u ever drawn the black triangle ship(Alfred, Yao, Ivan)?

never drawn them before ended up doin chibis.

[writingdumpster]

secret wife part two

pairing: Bob Floyd x reader

warnings: none

summary: part two to secret wife, accessible through my navigation, pinned to my profile.

word count: 1.7k

You were in the kitchen of your North Island rental, zipping around as you prepared dinner for the dagger squad. You had lemon bars in the oven and chicken cooking on the stove. Bob had mentioned to you that he’d shared your lemon bars with Phoenix before and they were Daisy’s favorite as well. Daisy was Bob’s sister. She was just one year younger than him and she’d become a close friend of yours since meeting her. When you’d invited her to dinner you told her to dress nicely because you wanted to take a photo for your instagram with her. You didn’t tell her about Bob’s friends coming and you certainly didn’t tell her how you thought Hangman would be perfect for her after only a few stories about him from Bob. Bob was quietly laying plates and silverware out, stacking napkins beside them as you arranged your counter for the guests to serve themselves. 

“Can you go get that, Robby?” You asked as you heard the first knock on the door. Bob went to answer the door and Daisy came bounding in. 

“Where is that beautiful wife of yours, Bob?” She asked with a smile.  

“What? No ‘Hello, Bob; Nice to see you?’ Just ‘where’s my wife?’” Bob teased. 

“That’s exactly right, Bobby Boy. Is she in the kitchen while you sit around?” Daisy asked as she toed off her shoes and headed for the kitchen. 

“Hey, y/n,” Daisy greeted as she walked in. She came in and took in all the food you’d made. “Is it more than just me?” She asked. 

“Some of Robby’s friends are coming over too,” you told her. “The ones who went on the mission with him.” 

“Oh, that’s great,” Daisy said with a smile. “Do you want any help?” She offered as there was another knock on the door. Bob went to go answer it and let Payback, Coyote, and Fanboy into the house. Fanboy had a bouquet of flowers with him. 

“You brought flowers?” Bob asked when he opened the door. 

“I told you it was weird, man,” Payback said. 

“You’re not supposed to show up to someone’s home empty handed,” Fanboy grumbled. 

“No, y/n will love it. The ones I bought her last week are dying,” Bob said. Fanboy smiled slightly. Rooster was striding up the steps to your house just as Coyote walked through the doorway. He had a bottle of wine in his hand and he handed it to Bob. 

“I told you it’s not weird to bring something,” Fanboy hissed at Payback. 

“That’s wine, not flowers. It’s a little weird,” Coyote piped in. 

“It’s not weird. It’s nice,” Bob assured Fanboy as he led his friends into the kitchen. You turned to see your new guests led by Bob with flowers and a bottle of wine in hand.

“Aw, who brought flowers?” You asked with a smile. 

“Fanboy,” Bob said. 

“That’s so nice,” you said as you took them. Bob placed the bottle of wine on the counter and went looking for the opener. Fanboy stuck his tongue out at Payback when you turned around which only earned him an eye roll in return. You began placing the flowers in a vase when there was one last knock at the door. Bob opened the door to welcome Phoenix and Hangman into your home. He instructed them to take off their shoes and then ushered them into your kitchen. You looked over at Daisy the moment you saw it was Hangman who had arrived. You watched as her eyes widened and a tiny smile spread across her lips. You smirked to yourself. 

“Right on time,” you greeted your newest guests. “Serve yourselves. Don’t be shy,” you said as you stepped aside. Rooster was the first to pick up a plate, giving himself a generous serving of the chicken you had made. The rest of Bob’s friends lined up, but Phoenix approached you before she grabbed a plate. 

“Bob told me you were going to make the lemon bars I like,” Phoenix said quietly. Her confidence was a bit shaky. She wanted you to like her. Bob had quickly become her best friend and she was worried that he hadn’t told her about you because you wouldn’t like her. She handed you a small gift bag. “I um, made this for you,” she told you. You opened the bag to find a hand knit scarf in your favorite colors. 

“This is so sweet. Thank you!” You said with a smile. 

“I know you’ll be back in Lemoore soon and it doesn’t get that cold there, but um,” Phoenix glanced down at her hands. “I thought maybe you and Bob could visit me in Norfolk sometime.” You smiled warmly. 

“That sounds wonderful,” you said as you pulled her into a hug. “I’m glad Robby has you,” you told her when you pulled away. 

“Yeah, me too,” she agreed with a smile. 

“Now go grab a plate before the boys eat everything,” you told her. You turned back and noticed that Hangman was seating himself beside Daisy. You’d managed to squeeze enough chairs around the dining room table. You settled across from Daisy once you’d gotten your own food. Bob kissed the top of your head as he took the seat beside you. Coyote, Rooster, and Payback were already eating but Fanboy sat there anxiously waiting for you and Bob to sit before he took a bite. 

“You didn’t have to wait for us,” Bob said as he took his first bite. 

“I told you,” Coyote teased before shoving another piece of chicken into his mouth.

“This is delicious,” Rooster gushed to you. 

“Don’t tell my mom, but this is the best food I’ve ever had,” Payback agreed. You thanked them with a smile. When everyone had eaten they all agreed that Bob must have fallen in love with you because of your cooking. 

“The cooking is great, but all she had to do was smile at me and I was hers,” Bob said as he took your hand upon the table. Phoenix smiled to herself, glad that her friend was so happy. 

“Robby and I will get this cleaned up. I’ve got dessert for all of you too,” you said. Fanboy and Phoenix quickly volunteered to help with the dishes. Daisy started to rise as well but you stopped her. “Relax. I’ve got enough help tonight,” you said before throwing an encouraging look towards Hangman. Hangman glanced over at Daisy. He started to open his mouth to introduce himself, but his breath caught in his throat. He cleared his throat roughly and then turned to her. 

“I’m Hang—” He stopped himself. “I’m Jake,” he told Daisy. Bob met your eye and you held in a laugh before you retreated to the kitchen. 

“Nice to meet you, Jake,” Daisy said with a smile. “I’m Daisy.” Jake couldn’t wipe the smile off his face. This wasn’t his signature cocky smirk though. This was a lovesick smile–one that was dripping with admiration and awe.

“Bob didn’t tell any of us he had a sister,” Jake said. Daisy smiled. 

“He doesn’t tell anybody anything,” she said. “He’s always been quiet.”

“And what about you?” Jake asked. “Did you take after your big brother?” Daisy laughed. 

“Not even a little bit,” she said. “I’m the family rebel,” she told Jake. 

“Let me guess…you went through an emo phase,” Jake guessed. 

“Oh, is it that obvious?” Daisy asked. 

“No, Bob puts on a playlist in the locker room sometimes and I know he doesn’t know anything besides country music. It’s got to be because of you,” he said. 

“Aw, my Bobby Boy still listens to my playlists?” Daisy asked. 

“I guess so,” Jake said with a smile. 

“He always liked the country. It’s how we grew up,” Daisy said. “I like to expand my tastes beyond just what played on the local radio when he drove us to school though.”

“I like country music,” Jake said. “But I’m mostly into classic rock,” he finished. Daisy smiled. 

“Bob says you play ‘Slow Ride’ on the jukebox everytime you go to some bar with him,” Daisy said. Jake blushed. 

“What else does he say about me?” Jake asked. 

“He told me you remind him of me,” she said. Jake grinned. 

“Do you like concerts?” He asked. Daisy smiled shyly. 

“Yeah, live music is great,” she said. 

“There’s a bar downtown that has bands play on Friday nights,” Jake spit out quickly. “Maybe…um, maybe I could take you?” He offered. 

“I don’t see why not,” she said with a smile. Jake grinned. 

“Great. That’s great,” he said, unable to wipe the grin off his face as he looked into her eyes. 

“I’ll give you my phone number before you leave,” she promised. Just then you walked back into the dining room with a tray of lemon bars, Bob trailing behind you with a fresh stack of plates. Everyone ate the lemon bars, throwing compliments your way with every bite. The dagger squad happily stayed to enjoy the night before Bob finally shooed Rooster out of his house, still remaining as he ate all of Bob’s leftovers. Bob turned back to you as he closed the door. You smiled warmly. He crossed the entryway and wrapped his arms around your waist. You raised your arms to rest on his taught chest. 

“I like your friends, Robby,” you told him. Bob smiled and kissed your nose.

“Your little scheme with Hangman seemed like it worked,” Bob commented. 

“You’re the one who told me that if I wanted Daisy to be stationed with us he was the best shot,” you reminded him. Bob chuckled. 

“He couldn’t stop smiling at her,” Bob said. “I’ve never seen him look at a girl like that at The Hard Deck.” 

“That’s because he was looking at her the way you look at me,” you said. Bob smiled softly. 

“And how’s that?” He asked. 

“Like I’m the only thing you care about,” you said. Bob grinned. He leaned down and kissed you lovingly. His lips were warm and strong against yours and you let out a small hum of satisfaction as he leaned away. 

“That’s because you are.”

[runnning-outof-time]

K! I'm sorry this is so late, but congratulations on 3.5K! I'm so happy for you and there's no one more deserving of such a milestone. I'll always be in your corner. Here's to the next 3.5K! 🥳🥂

For the 3 word list, could you do #23 - “You’re bleeding, (name).” - with Tommy? Thank you and congratulations again!

(1 of 2)

Thanks for sending this in and for your kind words, Bri! I’m sorry it took me a bit to write this for you. I just had to get some season 5 Tommy in here (even though the hype has surely died down by now). Enjoy! :)

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

Part of my 3.5k Celebration - find more stories here!

Sometimes It’s Still Required

Tommy Shelby x Reader

Warnings: mentions of blood, drinking, a terrible summary

Word Count: 916

Summary: (Y/N) finds Tommy sitting at her vanity one evening.

(Y/N) Shelby found her husband in the last place she expected him: sitting at the vanity, which was usually reserved for her, in their master bedroom. He had his palms rested on his knees and his gaze was cast down onto the floor.

She shut the door and proceeded towards him with caution.

“I didn’t expect to find you in here,” she said when she was a few steps away from him, making herself known before she was right behind him. Tommy lifted his gaze and turned slightly to find his wife approaching him. He didn’t say anything, just nodded to show that he heard her. “Calling it an early night?” she asked a question as she stopped behind him.

“It was a long day,” he answered her indirectly, reaching forward to grab the glass of whiskey so that he could take a healthy drink from it.

“Is there anything that I can do for you?” (Y/N) asked as she set her hands on his shoulders and pressed her fingers into his shirt-covered skin.

“No,” his answer came like a breath. He closed his eyes and tipped his head back against his wife’s midsection, thankful to spend some time with her after the hectic day he had.

(Y/N) looked down at him with a soft smile. She was thankful that she could have one of these quiet moments with him. He’d been away for a lot of the days now that he had to be present in Parliament and out among his constituents.

Silence filled the room as (Y/N) continued with massaging his shoulders, trying her best to get the noticeable knots out. The silence persisted until Tommy brought his hand up to run across his face. (Y/N) happened to be looking down at the time, and what she saw surprised her - even though it shouldn’t have at this point.

“You’re bleeding, Tommy,” she commented on the red splotches that were scattered across the back of his hand. She could even see some on the white cuffs of his dress shirt.

“‘S not my blood, love,” Tommy didn’t even open his eyes to take a look at what his wife was talking about.

A sigh left (Y/N)’s lips before she could stop it. The sound of it made Tommy open his eyes. (Y/N) looked down at him with a frown before she explained the reason behind her initial response: “I thought you were finished with that kind of stuff, Tommy,” she said, hating that there was disappointment present in her tone.

“Sometimes it’s still required,” he responded, brushing her concern off.

“Tommy…”

It was obvious that that wasn’t the response she wanted to hear. Tommy lifted his head and turned slightly on the chair so that he could look at her. “Hey, it wasn’t anything serious. Arthur cut his hand on the bar and needed help cleanin’ it up,” he acted quick on his feet and came up with a story of how the blood got on his hand.

(Y/N) pursed her lips. She knew that that wasn’t really what happened. She’d been with Tommy long enough to know that there could have been one hundred explanations for the blood. Usually she would dig to find the correct answer. But she wasn’t in the mood tonight. Tonight she was just thankful that he made it home.

“Are you going to clean it up?” she asked after a few moments had passed. A look flashed across Tommy’s face. It was almost as though he was surprised that she’d let the matter rest.

“I will,” he nodded in response.

“Now?” she asked for specifics.

“When I get ready for bed.”

“Which will be now?” she still wasn’t satisfied with the answer he’d given her.

“Soon, love,” he told her, a smile tugging the right corner of his lips upwards as he stood from the chair and turned to face her. She kept her hands rested on his shoulders as he secured his to the sides of her waist.

The couple stared lovingly at each other, basking in the warmth that their bodies were giving off.

“I love you,” Tommy mumbled then, breaking the reverie surrounding them. If there had been any other noise in the room, she would have missed his three word phrase, but she heard him loud and clear in the silence.

“I love you,” (Y/N) responded, repeating what he’d just said to her, “I just wish you’d leave the blood in the past,” she added, sending him a pointed look after she spoke.

Tommy chuckled at her expression, leaning in to press his lips to hers in a languid kiss. “It’ll be left in the past,” he whispered against her lips before pressing his back to them, so as to seal the ‘promise’.

The look was still present on (Y/N)’s face when they pulled away, although it wasn’t as prevalent as before. She knew that this was something that he couldn’t wholeheartedly promise to her. There would always be a chance that he would have blood on his hands…it just came with the paths he chose. But right now she chose to take him at his word.

“Go wash up,” she said to him, jerking her head in the direction of the bathroom as a soft smile formed on her face.

“Ok,” he breathed, leaning in and stealing one last kiss from her before he let her go for the bathroom.

Tags will be added in separate reblogs so that hopefully they get sent out

MASTERLIST

[lethalchiralium]

Come Undone

It was the last large mixer of the mission for a few days, the target’s wife having invited you and your husband to join. Little did she know, Julia and Jackson Houghton weren’t married, nor were they real - they were Sergeant Y/N “Lucky” L/N and Captain John Price.

You had left John’s side early on after you two had walked in, arm in arm. Your earpiece snug in your ear, hidden by your perfectly set hair. The makeup was light tonight as you had done it yourself instead of the team Laswell hired, since they did your hair. It was all show, even in the salon - you and John making idle “married” couple talk, gossiping about your fake sister’s marriage.

You waltzed your way to the bar, knowing the target’s wife would be more than pleased to see you. She was an unlikely acquaintance, as she was described to be silent and hostile. The bartender approached you, you ordered a martini and a glass of water. You settled on the plush bar seat, resisting the urge to look to John for affirmation like you would with your bulletproof vest on and your rifle nestled in your hands. Now?

Now you can’t think straight when you think about him and those dizzying kisses he left you with late last night. It’s been an intense four months - going from thinking you’ll be single forever to making out with your captain. Alone. In a hotel bed. Your feelings were knotted together like headphone wires, all sorts of feelings stuck where they shouldn’t be. Then why did his lips on yours feel so right? Even if they were fake in the beginning?

A light touch pulled you from your inner monologue, you looked to your right to see the target’s model-like wife, Anna. She gave you a smile as you returned it, pushing the fresh martini in front of her. She nodded knowingly, taking a sip. You took in the almost empty bar, knowing the men had abandoned it to talk business along the walls - there weren’t many wives brought along, none of the remaining three wanted anything to do with Anna. This meant you had her alone, in the corner of the bar against the wall, somewhat private.

“I hope your sex life is better than mine.” Anna let out a soft chuckle, manicured nails tapped against the stem of the glass.

You instantly grew uncomfortable, you didn’t dare show it. Only a small smirk and a drink of your water. “That’s not something I like to talk about in public.”

She laughed a little, moving the glass to her red lips before she asked, “What, is he bad?” You shook your head, she took a drink before continuing, “Gross kinks?”

You were surprised at that comment, eyes widening and you stumbled over your words, “What? No, no, he’s…” You trailed off, unsure of what to say. You couldn’t think straight about him anymore, not with this feelings bullshit in the way. “He’s good to me.”

“I would hope, he looks bigger in the - what do you call it - junk than my own husband.” She took another drink of the martini, obviously in an annoyed mood. The glass was settled on the bar, her tongue lapped up the excess from her lips. “I hope you’re at least not hurting when you’re done.”

There’s just a moment where you’re able to truly observe her - long silver dress, scuffed silver bangles around her wrists and a forming bruise underneath. Her earrings were different this night; instead of the long, elegant pearl or diamond earrings, they were simple diamond studs. Her hair kept on one side, probably to hide bruising. It wasn’t uncommon that you saw her with bruising, her husband was a violent and easily angered man from John’s account.

She seemed interested in you tonight. Maybe distraction helps.

“He’s gentle.” You spoke softly, eyes catching a glimpse of John across the room. He was beside a few of the target’s colleagues and the target himself, all of the men were laughing. John’s smile didn’t have the same sparkle it did with you, you watched his eyes as they flickered to you. You smiled back, Anna followed your look. “That’s what I like. He’s strong everywhere else but with me, he’s gentle.”

“John-“

You were practically shaking with anticipation. John’s hands finally holding your hips as he kissed you - fingernails dug into the cotton of your sleep shirt. He was drawing almost every breath from your lips, like he wanted to taste the air in your lungs. His shirt was gone, your hands slid up his toned and hairy torso to his neck - little half crescents dug into the back of his neck by your nails.

“I know,” He breathed, knee coming up to press in between your thighs - sleep shirt riding up, you had just come from the shower when you were forced to talk in the living room. A talk that landed you on your back, pulling John down with you. Kisses fierce against your lips, skin, as he panted, “M’gonna touch ya, is that okay?”

There was a noise from the nightstand as John’s fingers threaded the hem of your t-shirt, you were bursting at the seams . He was going too slow, you needed his body against yours at that very second.

“Captain Price, come in.”

It would make your cheeks burn if you didn’t remember yourself coming to your senses, telling him to get out and that you shouldn’t be doing this. You couldn’t forget the way sadness crept into his expression, the tears on your cheeks an intense feeling after you locked the door after him.

You had fucked up big time.

“What a real man should be like, hm?”

You looked to Anna, her gaze full of longing and melancholy. Her curled black lashes had seen tears earlier in the evening, you could tell by the residual redness in her eyes. Your hand gently settled on her forearm, a comforting gesture you had not done before with her; yet she accepted it. Her hand settled on top of yours, gazing down at her own diamond wedding ring.

Anything you can get about their personal life will help the team succeed. The dirtiest, saddest secrets. Everything. Dig for it, Lucky.

“I’m sorry, Anna.” You spoke gently, a genuine condolence in your voice.

She shook her head a little, wiping a tear with her finger quickly. “Thank you.” She patted your hand for just a moment, a grateful gesture. “You are a good friend, Julia.”

You could barely hear Laswell in your ear over the commotion of the event, but you knew it wasn’t good. You looked back to John, who wasn’t looking at you as he moved away from his group to hold his phone to his ear. Something was happening. Something wasn’t right.

Anna gently pulled your hand from her arm, you looked back at her. She gave you a warm smile and you brought your drink to your lips. “Listen, I would like to invite you and your husband to my home for dinner.”

You honestly almost choke on your drink but you were smooth with it, laughing a little. “It wouldn’t be until Jack gets some business done at home, he’s anxious to get back to his office. All these suits aren’t his favorite thing.” You looked back to John, seeing him walking straight towards you. “Jack-?”

“Jules, we need to go.” He spoke softly, hand out and you instantly took it. You gave Anna a soft smile as you slid off the stool. There was definitely some intense look in his eyes, you couldn’t place it but it made your chest constrict.

“But-“

“Julia, before you go,” She held her hand out to John, a little look in her eye before she rolled them, “A pen, Mr. Houghton.” If this wasn’t John playing a character, he would’ve smacked her hand away. You’ve seen him do it. He glanced at you before digging into his suit jacket, pulling out a nice silver pen.

You recognized that pen. It was a pen you had specifically purchased for John years ago, certainly long enough to have been lost in between then and now. Your eyes widened a little bit as Anna moved to write her number down on her napkin, a crucial piece to accessing the Zharkov personal web of lies - it was quite literally one of the most important pieces that was thought to be unobtainable. You looked back to Anna as she handed the napkin with nice handwriting on it.

“My phone number. Call me when you two are free, hm?” She smiled at you, brighter this time. “I have better vodka there, though I can’t say I know why you don’t drink.”

“A story for another time.” John interrupted, his hand clamped on your wrist. “We really need to go, it’s important.”

You wished you could stay for longer, but it wasn’t possible. “Bye Anna.” You whispered before you walked away with John, his arm slid around yours as he pulled you towards the door, phone in his hand. “What’s going on?”

“Stupid fucks don’t know how to run anything while I’m gone.” He snarled, louder than his normal speaking voice as you two pass the target and his little posse of friends. John dialed one-handed, a number you didn’t recognize. Out the door in mere seconds, he got a hold of whoever he dialed. “Tell me what happened.”

“Jackson-“ You muttered, eyes watching the sets of bodyguards in the hall, you two walked even faster. You were almost stumbling over your dress by the time you had reached the outside world, the cold breeze instantly causing you to shutter. John just gave you a look. We need to leave. “I’ll-“

“I’ll get the taxi, take this.” He handed you the phone, you grabbed it without hesitation.

The snow was coming down thick, your long coat left inside as John hailed a cab in crowded London. He looked to you, noticing your shaking frame as you pressed the phone to your ear.

“Hello?”

[aotearoa20]

To Return - Part One

// Part One // Part Two // Part Three // Part Four // Part Five // Part Six

Barring the twins, it was Celegorm who was released first. Once people learned of his return he’d assumed most would be surprised. Perhaps the only ones who wouldn’t be were still in the Halls. It mattered little really, for he was here now.

He peered down the sliver lit corridors of the new dwellings of the Doriathrim. Beautiful and odd. New was perhaps a poor description. The forest had been given to the Returned Sindar long ago, ruled by Dior as his grandfather now resided in Lorien with his wife.

The Sindar build their homes in response to the forest they were in and there were no trees like these in Beleriand. Celegorm thought he was rather selfish in his relief. He doesn’t know how he’d be if this place looked much more like Doriath.

There were certainly less guards than before. The coast was clear as he slipped across the empty hall and out the window.

A breeze hit his face and he relaxed almost instantly. The trees had been his enemies on the way in, nosy messengers all to happy to whisper of his intrusion to the king. He had to bribe several of them as wells as a fair few birds and a particularly persistent fox. Even so he was almost certain he was watching eyes were observing him throughout the entire heist.

Either way he was free now. He could walk along the branches with ease, the cloak about his shoulders hiding his identity, perhaps even his presence more than well enough. The song still weaved into its making made him feel nauseous, as he pulled the hood over his head. A final jab from the elf-witch and honestly he appluaded her consistency.

He kept in the trees for as long as he dared, though high enough to avoid the usual traffic between the branches. The some of quiet conversation brought him to a halt in the shadow of the leaves. Even his eyes took a minute to spot two elves sitting and laughing in hushed voices amiss the tips of the branches.

He took a long breath and another before marching smoothly past them unobserved.

It was not until he heard the sound of the alarm that he began to descend near the edges of the forest and that is what caught him. A snare well hidden in vines and dappled light. Almost sentient as it wrapped around his ankles and strung him up with a muffled cry.

He could hear, above the blood rushing to his head, a growling laughter. But when he swung around he found to his surprise not a smug elf guard grinning down at him from the branches but one of the Ainur.

“It’s been a while Celegorm,” the Maia said.

Celegorm frowned as he squinted up at him. It had been a very long time since he was last in Valinor but his memory was not lost in the Halls.

“Do I know you?”

The creature pouted as he pushed himself of the branch, coming to crouch beside his face. Soft brown eyes seemed to stare right through to his fëa and drew an ache from his chest.

“You don’t recognise me?” he said.

“No,” Celegorm swallowed hard as he spoke, “I’ve never seen you before.”

The Maia scoffs.

The sound of the approaching March wardens was beginning to become worrisome. He couldn’t be caught. Not yet.

“Will you let me down?” He ground the panic out of his voice.

“Tell me my name first.”

“I do not know you!”

Celegorm tried to curl up so that his arms could reach the knot of the the trap but his new body was far too untrained. With much struggle and the sort of strength that came with fear his fingers brushed the rope. Only to be cuffed in the stomach by the Maia.

He growled and swiped at him but the he stepped away deftly and leaned back against the smooth bark of the tree. He stared down at him seemingly indifferent though the glint of his eyes held an unfair amount hurt.

“You are of the Hunt, of Orome’s people” he snapped and the creature nodded.

The Hunter’s Maiar often took on predatory characteristics. Talons, claws and teeth. They saw no reason to limit their forms to in one design, taking the best and most useful in their eyes of the children of both Eru and Yavanna. There was a time he was teased for his singularly elven features. He’d laughed and called them all lazy. This one seemed to have taken mostly after a wolfhound.

“Did you run with Tillion,” he asks for his sliver grey hair but the creature clicked his tongue and shook his head in a way that was almost Noldorin. The strange unease that had been building all the greater in his gut suddenly reared its head. And all the while the guards drew nearer, their footsteps no longer whispers among the trees but close enough for even untrained ears to catch.

“Celegorm you call me.” he whispered though he didn’t know why.

“It is your name.”

“None of the Ainuir have called me that since my return, you knew me in Beleriand”

“Clever little one.”

“Turko, he’s massive.” 

“Yes, but he’s still only a pup!” 

Tyelkormo stuck his tongue at his brother and tossed a treat in the air. The wolfhound leap to grab, landing with his big paws and dragging them both to the ground. 

Celegorm blinked. His face went carefully and fearfully blank. He couldn’t panic. He can’t panic. The guards are here.

“It’s for Káno, I need to get him back without being seen.”

The Maia’s expression softened.

“Let me bring him back to our mother, then the boy-king may do as he wishes with me, whatever punishment I will bear it, but please I must do this first.”

His mouth was dry and he could not say it. To do so would make a wild though a reality and he couldn’t…

“There!”

He heard a shout and the drawing of bow strings.

“Please, Huan.”

The words had barely left his lips as the Maia surges forward and cut the cord. He tried not to groan as he fell to the ground with all the grace of a newborn bird.

The shouts of soldiers ring in his ear but he barely has time to reach for the tangled wire around his feet when he find himself lifted up. His hands move on instinctively around the Maia’s neck and he pushes back his confusion to bury his head on his shoulder.

He doesn’t know what exhaustion overtook him so suddenly but before they left the trees, his eyes drew closed, resting in the arms of an old unlooked for friend.

[hbosucc]

Greg Hirsch x Reader: Chapter 8

Link to previous chapter (18+ only, minors dni!) here.

This chapter is kind of part two to the previous one; it picks up right after the last one ended.

Content Warnings, same as always:

Sexual Content (only mentioned in this chapter, no explicit scenes, but it's still an 18+ chapter)

Swearing

Alcohol consumption

Mention of drug use

Maybe fluff towards the end??

That's all! I'm having a really weird, difficult time irl right now, and posting these is something fun to look forward to. So, if you're reading, thank you:) xoxoxo

Chapter 8: Meeting the Fam, Part II

Back in the main room, I craned my head to look for Greg. I spotted him at the bar and had to stop myself from breaking into a run. He glanced up and met my eyes as I approached him, his smile disappearing as he saw the traces of unease I hadn’t been able to wipe from my face.

“Hey, are you okay? I just saw your text.” He asked, taking my hand as I reached him.

“Yeah, no, I’m fine.” I gave my best attempt at a smile, looking over my shoulder, then back up at him.

“Are you sure? I was looking for you for, like, a while.” He looked concerned, which almost made me start crying again.

“I’m sure.” I squeezed his hand. “What did Kendall want?”

“Just, like, family drama, which is also work drama, like usual.” Greg sighed. “They really can’t chill out, even for one night.”

“God, that sucks.” I said, shifting my weight from one foot to the other.

“Hey, are you sure you’re okay?” Greg lowered his voice. “You’re kind of…I don’t know, something feels different?”

“I’m…” I closed my eyes for a moment, then looked up at him. “I just did coke, Greg.”

“Oh, oh.” Greg’s eyebrows went up. “Okay, gotcha. No, that makes sense. Um.”

“I know.” I nodded. “There was this really nice girl I met in the bathroom, and she asked me if I wanted a bump, and I said sure, why not.” I felt bad lying to him, but Tom’s warning from earlier about ruining Greg’s career rang through my mind. Tom was a prick, but there was still something that felt dangerous about him. And as much as I hated Waystar, I did not want to be responsible for Greg getting fired.

“Oh, I see.” Greg nodded. “That’s cool, I mean, I don’t care that you did it—I mean, I’ve done it before, too, just so you know—I’m just glad you’re okay.”

“Thank you.” I lowered my voice. “I’m wondering if it was cut with something weird, though, and that’s why I was feeling so sick at first. I’m okay now, though, I think.”

“Are you sure? I mean, we can totally blow this off, and, like, head home, if you’re not feeling well.”

“Really?” I asked, looking up at him.

“Yeah, totally.” He nodded. “I think Logan’s supposed to be giving a speech at some point, but I don’t really need to stay for that.”

“Okay, if you’re sure.” I leaned against him, glancing out over the crowd. I saw that Tom had reappeared across the room and was now talking to his wife. His eyes met mine for a moment, a smile tugging up the corner of his lips.

“Do you want to just go back to my place? I mean, it’s closer, and you haven’t been over yet.”

“Yeah, we can do that.” I ripped my gaze away, meeting Greg’s eyes again, giving him a more successful smile this time. I really was interested to see his apartment.

“Okay, cool. I’ll call the driver if you go get our coats? Meet you out there?”

“Okay.” I nodded, taking his coat check ticket and heading for the exit, keeping my gaze straight ahead, my shoulders back.

I got our coats and stepped out into the frigid air, wrapping mine around myself and trying not to shiver. My legs were mostly bare, and I shifted from foot to foot, trying to warm myself. I felt my phone vibrate and I pulled it out to see a text from an unsaved number.

Remember what I told you.

          My fingers shook as I tried to think of how to respond, if I should at all, and I knew it wasn’t just from the cold. I wasn’t surprised that Tom had been able to find my number—not really. I put the phone back in my pocket, wrapping my coat tighter around myself. I was about to head back inside to wait for Greg, the cold outweighing my fear of running into Tom yet again, but then I saw Greg heading towards me. The car pulled up, and the driver came around to open the door for us.

          In the warmth of the car, I still shivered, scooting closer to Greg and laying my chin on his shoulder. He squeezed my thigh, then interlocked his fingers with mine.

          “Are you sure you’re okay? Do you want me to turn up the heat more, or anything?” He asked softly, brushing some of my hair back from my face.

          “No, it’s okay. I’m warming up now.” I smiled. “I’m excited to finally see your place.”

          “I am, too! It’s kind of crazy. I don’t know if I told you, but Kendall, who you met tonight, actually owns the place, and he’s kind of just, like, letting me live there right now.”

          “Really?” I asked. “That’s really cool of him.”

          “I know, right?” He went on to tell me the story of how he hadn’t been able to believe it at first, that he’d thought Kendall had been playing a joke on him. Given the initial impressions I’d gotten of his family members, that didn’t surprise me.  

          We pulled up to his building and he helped me out, leading the way inside, then up in the building’s elevator, almost to the top floor. When the door slid open to reveal his apartment, I was surprised at its size, despite how he’d already described it to me. It had the tallest ceilings I’d ever seen in an NYC apartment—or any apartment, anywhere, really.

          “Jesus, this is incredible.” I breathed, walking over to the floor-to-ceiling windows, looking out over the lit-up city.

          “It is. I still can’t believe I get to live here sometimes. Like, I keep waiting for him to kick me out.” He let out a nervous laugh.

          “That’s kinda fucked up.” I turned to face him, leaning against the glass.

          “Yeah, it is.” He sighed, coming over to me. “Hey, did anyone…did any of them say anything, like, weird to you? I mean, I saw that Tom was with you at the bar while Kendall and I were talking, and then, like, the next time I looked over, you were both gone.”

          I closed my eyes, leaning into his chest. I didn’t want to lie to him. The truth swirled around inside of me, and I felt a wave of nausea as the mix of no food, lots of alcohol, and two lines caught up with me.

          “I’m going to throw up,” I choked out, realizing I didn’t know where his bathroom was.

          “Oh, fuck, okay, it’s this way.” He read my mind, pulling me down a hallway and into a bathroom, flipping the light on. I bent over the toilet, making it just in time for my guts to upend themselves, spilling the evening’s overpriced g&t’s into the bowl.

          Another wave came up, and then everything was out, nothing left inside of me. I felt Greg’s hands in my hair, smoothing it back from my face. I spit into the toilet and closed the lid, flushing and propping up my head, unable to look up at him.

          “I’m sorry.” I croaked. “You didn’t have to—you didn’t have to stay.”

          “No, no, it’s okay.” He said, rubbing my back slowly. “I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

          “I’m—I’m fine now.” I pushed myself up and stood shakily, looking at myself in the mirror. My makeup was streaked down my face, my hair mussed, my eyes red and teary. “Fuck.”

          “Do you need to throw up more, or do you want to go lie down?”

          “I think I’m done. Do you have, like, mouthwash or anything?” I asked, leaning on the counter, my head in my hands.

          “Yeah, I’ll go get some. Be right back.” I heard him pad down the hall and open another door. I spat into the sink and turned on the tap, rinsing my mouth with water while I waited. How much did I need to tell him? How much could I tell him?

          “Here,” He reappeared in the doorway, handing me a bottle of Listerine.

          “Thanks,” I took a big swig, swishing it around between my teeth for a minute, until it stung my gums, then spat the minty foam and rinsed it down the drain.

          “Do you want, like, one of my shirts to wear to bed?” He looked like he wanted to reach out and touch me, but hesitated.

          “That would be great, yeah.” I nodded. He led us down the hall to his bedroom, which was just as big as I’d imagined it would be, having seen the rest of the apartment. “You don’t have any makeup wipes, do you?”

          “No, sorry.” He shook his head, rummaging through his drawers. He pulled out a white t-shirt and handed it over.

          “That’s okay. Can you help me with the zipper?” I turned around, and he pulled the zipper down so I could slide the dress off of my body. I shuddered as I remembered how Tom had done the same thing just hours before. I unhooked my bra quickly, pulling the t-shirt on to cover myself.

          “Y/n.” He took my hands in his. “Please just tell me what’s wrong.”

          “I…” I started, swallowing, closing my eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath. I opened my eyes and looked up at him, into his searching gaze. “Tom was being, like, kind of weird.”

          “How—how so?” He sat down on the bed, pulling me to him.

          “When you weren’t around he…he was just…I don’t know, like, weirdly interested in me, I guess.” I bit my lip. “But I was worried because if I told you anything, and he found out, he said he’d…” I was still too high, and having to deal with conflict felt incredibly overwhelming, and I collapsed, sniffling into his chest.

          “Fucking Tom, oh my God.” He sighed, pulling me onto his lap.

          “Please don’t let him know I even said—said anything.” I whispered, another sob coming out.

          “Hey, hey, it’s okay.” He wrapped his arms around me. “I’m not scared of Tom, okay? You don’t need to worry. Whatever he said he’d do to me, don’t worry about it.

          “Did he…” Greg trailed off, and I looked up at him. “Did he do anything to you?”

          “No.” I shook my head. “Almost, but no. He said he was, like, just joking with me or something.”

          He ran a hand over my hair, reaching down to wipe my tears with his thumb. “God, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have…I should’ve realized he would do something tonight.”

          “It’s not your fault.” I whispered, swiping at my face. “I’m gonna go wash my face, okay? Be right back.”

          I got up and went back to the bathroom, cleaning off my face the best I could with soap and water—I knew it wasn’t great for my skin, but it was probably better than sleeping in a full face of makeup. I padded back to the bedroom and found him sitting in the same spot, on his phone.

          “You’re not texting him, are you?” I balked in the doorway.

          “Hey, come here.” He opened his arms, and I allowed myself to be wrapped in them once more. “I don’t want you to worry about Tom. He’s a dick, yeah, but he’s kind of…like, on the outs with the fam right now. He’s impotent, okay? I’m not worried about him.”

          “If you’re sure…” I swallowed.

          “I’m sure.” He laid back against the pillows, pulling me down with him. “I shouldn’t have left you alone.”

          “It’s not your fault.” I said again, burying my face in his chest.

          “Is there anything I can do? To make you feel better?” He ran a hand over my hair, pressing a kiss to my forehead.

          “I don’t think so. I’m okay.” I whispered. I wished I could just go to sleep, but I was still too wired from the coke. It was going to be a very long night.

          “You don’t want me to kill him, or anything?” He asked, and I giggled, trying to stifle the noise with my hand. “What, you don’t think I can put out a hit on him?”

          “Not really.” I said, pressing my lips together, but more laughter spilled out, and he joined in, still holding me close.

          “You don’t want me to have the mob take him out?” He teased, and I shook my head, giving him a kiss.

          “No, if you’re going to kill him, I want you to do it yourself.” I rubbed my nose against his. He’d succeeded in making me feel better, at least for the moment.

          “Well, whatever you want.” He pressed another kiss to my lips, and I let myself melt into him before pulling back. “Do you want to go to bed?”

          I shook my head. “I’m kind of tired, but I’m not going to be able to sleep for a while.”

          “Do you want to watch a show or something, then?” He asked, rolling over to grab a remote from his nightstand.

          “Sure.” I sat up as he scrolled through some options, landing on something light and stupid, pressing play on a random episode.

          “Are you hungry at all?” He asked. “I have, like, cereal, and probably some chips and stuff.”

          “No, I’m okay.” I smiled. His place was such a bachelor pad. “Thank you, though. You’re the sweetest.”

          “Nah, I’m not.” He protested, but I could see that he was pleased.

          “You are, too.” I kissed his cheek, moving down to his neck.

          “For real, though, do you need anything?” He looked at me, our eyes locking in the dim light coming from the TV screen. It might’ve been the fact that I was high, but it felt like he was looking straight into me, reading my mind.

          “No, no, I’m…I’m good.” I whispered. “Just need you here, with me. That’s all.”

          “Okay.” He breathed out, pulling me closer to him once again, our limbs wrapping around each other, my ear pressed to his chest. I could hear his heartbeat, thumping away, and relaxed into the sound. I wouldn’t be able to sleep for a while yet, but that was okay, as long as I could stay with him, just like this.

[fancyfeathers]

The Games We Play of Dust and Ash (Yandere Moriarty the Patriot Masterlist)

James Bonde meets his darling on a mission to a high end party. He is about to excuse himself out of a conversation but as he turns to walk away his shoulder rams into a young lady. He makes sure he is alright and sits her down on the couch if she is in pain. As James is talking to her, William spots him talking to this young lady and goes to check up on things with his own darling on his arm.

“Is everything alright here?”

“Yes, I just ran into this young lady here and-“

“It’s you.”

The young lady is staring right at William’s darling with wide eyes as if she had just seen a ghost and a smile quickly comes across the face of William’s darling as she looks at the other woman. Without a word the other woman stands up and embraces her which only draws confused looks from William and James.

“You know my wife?”

“Yes! We both worked at the opera house together. Honestly after the fire when no one could find here we thought she was dead- oh my goodness everyone thought you were dead!”

William explains that her friend was a singer at the opera and while they were never very close she was very friendly to her. Apparently many of the old performers of the opera were being housed by one of their old sponsors, the person throwing the party they were in attendance at.

“Actually this is my last party before I move away, I was invited to work at the Paris Opera House… I am moving next week.”

After that party they do not see her for a few more days and she becomes a side thought. Then one day when James is on a walk and he spots her across the street and he would say hello if it was not for a women approaching her, James recognized her as Sherlock’s darling, that reporter who is snooping into the Moriarty family. She talks to the former opera singer and while James cannot make out what they are saying he can make out her expression…

Happy…

Confused…

Shocked…

Horrified…

There is a moment of silence between the two before James’ darling nods to some sort of question before Sherlock’s darling takes out a pen and her notepad before leading her into a nearby bar to talk. Of course James follows in and sits at the bar counter listening in to the woman talking.

“So you knew Mrs. Moriarty from your time at the opera house?”

“Correct, though then she was not married and we were not incredibly close I still knew her well enough where I would call us friends.”

“Do you find anything strange about her now?”

“Yes, she was so jittery last I saw her, like she saw a ghost. Then when we worked at the opera house she certainly did not have any connections to any noble, she lived in a boarding house on the other side of town not exactly you would find a fiancé of an aristocrat.”

“Was she engaged when you knew her at the opera?”

“Oh god no, she never even had it on her mind, then months later after the fire when people were quite literally thinking she had died she shows up married to that professor, that’s strange… do you really think William is… is the one behind the fire at the opera house?”

“I do… I really do.”

“Then let me know if you need a hand, I think I will be staying in London a bit longer if you need my assistance.”

“Thank you, I’ll get you in contact with my friends.”

James watches as the two ladies leave and go their separate ways before her downs the rest of his drink before going to tell William what he heard and now he has the job of keeping tabs on the former opera singer.

Her routine is pretty basic, she worked arms a vocal teacher and music teacher for young ladies and gentlemen, normally of noble blood. Then after her lessons she normally goes to a local tea shop and usually has a cup of tea alone or occasionally with that reporter or with one of her friends who are also being monitored by their organization, usually that doctor who Von Herder talks about just as much as his inventions or that cabaret singer Moran is seeing (before she goes missing as well). Then normally she returns back to the estate she is staying in of the former opera sponsor.

Then one day when she is sitting at the tea house James watches as she looks up from the book she is reading and makes dead eye contact with James and waves him over. He comes and sits down in the booth n the seat across from her.

“You have been stalking me.”

“How did you know-“

“I was an opera singer, I always know when I have an audience and I feel you understand that as well.”

“May I ask what do you mean-“

“Warsaw, two years ago, I remember those eyes and that voice, I watched your performance… so let me guess, William is having you monitor me after my meeting with that reporter?”

“Even if the answer is that true, do you think I would tell you that? Maybe I am just enchanted with you.”

“Hm, then get in line, Mr. Bonde.”

From then on James sees her glance at him every now and then, she knows exactly where he is. Now that she is getting more and more clever it is almost impossible to find any information about what they are doing, it honestly felt like James was the one being watched now, it is almost unsettling.

Then one night when James is on a mission with William, disposing of a young noble man who had been messing with university admissions. It is late at the estate and as they walk through the house they hear the sound of the piano being played from the drawing room. The two look into the room to see the noble man playing the piano, but the thing is it is not him, she was wearing the same suit they saw the man walk into the house in…

“Appearing to be someone else is not hard as long as you have the costume and the skills to act. You had Mr. Bonde so occupied on watching me that you did not even know someone was watching him.”

It’s her…

“The man you came here to kill is not here we warned him about what was going to happen, and now instead you have a witness to your break in and attempted murder, what ever will you do now? You could kill me, but then you have the scandal of a famous opera singer and I honestly doubt that would go unnoticed by Sherlock especially with that reporter tugging on his ear. Letting me go would only give you another loose end and I could tell Scotland Yard or the press about this and the identity of the Lord of Crime and his associates would be unmasked.”

“William-“

“James, you may deal with her as you see fit after all from what I understand you have grown fond of her especially with that look in your eyes.”

With William watching them and his darling staring at him with that smirk on her face. He looks over her closer, her fingers are shaking and her foot is shaking as well, things he used to get with stage fright, she is terrified, she is acting.

James raises his gun and for the briefest moment he sees her tense up and her eyes go wide.

“You are scared, aren’t you? I…I was given a choice when I bit off more than I could chew so I am going to give you a choice as well. You can come with us quietly, or I will fire.”

“I…I…”

It was easier her to speak like that before because it was like reading from a script and leaving the choice to them and hoping they would pick the ladder, but now her fate was being placed in her hands, and that felt terrifying because now she had to pick between life and death.

“I… I hated everything about the Lord of Crime when he was suspected to be the one who destroyed the opera house, and I still do, but I wanted to badly to take revenge for everything you did and thought I would do anything to achieve it… no… no one else knows I came here, we got that nobleman out but no one knew I took his place because I wanted to trying backing you into a corner, I am a fool for that… I won’t be hurt, correct?”

“Yes.”

“Then I accept your offer, Mr. Bonde.”

James lowers his gun and extends his hand to to hand to help her stand up from the piano bench…

He may not have fallen for his darling yet but in his care he will find himself growing attached to her…

He falls for the little and small things…

The way she likes laying in bed for awhile in the morning because the sun feels nice…

How she hums when getting dressed…

How she stares off as she thinks with the fondest look in her eyes…

This turns into the way she lets him brush the hair out her face as she reads…

How she rests her head on his shoulder after dinner and she is getting sleepy…

The way she lets him tilt her face to let him kiss her…

The others may not have won their darling’s affection, but with mercy comes trust, and with trust comes friendship, and in friendship comes love.

They may have fallen in love together, but he fell into obsession over the little things.

[livlepretre]

Dear author

I was reading fe50 and suffered from a lot of emotions that have successfully unsettled me. As a reader it is my desire to share some of them with you.

"I saw the way the two of you were together earlier today. Thick as thieves." There's something knife-sharp in his tone

Do you expect me to believe that this… friendship between the two of you sprung up overnight?" He hurls the word friendship at her the way another might throw out the word affair. Like it's a betrayal.

I came to hear you confirm it," Klaus eventually bites out.

"That Elena is my friend?" Rebekah asks. "That we passed a happy summer together lolling about in the manor gardens and reading Russian poetry?"

"Is that all though?"

"I don't kiss and tell, Nick."

Klaus is silent for so long after that that Elena wonders if he may have actually left.

Her heart catches a little when she first lays eyes on Stefan. Dressed in a neat dark suit with a stark white shirt and slim black tie, he could be dressed to take her to the 60s dance. To the place where she'd first met Klaus, she realizes with a jolt—or, at least, the first time she had known it was him.

Elena gathers herself to face him. Prepares herself for his cold barbs, his disinterested appraisal. Is surprised by the heat she sees burning in his eyes instead.

He's still staring at her with an unnerving singularity of focus when she finally gathers her reply. If not for that breach in the wall of his emotions, for that spark of heat in his watchful gaze,

"Not that you're a trinket," she assures Elena.

"Well, not Stefan's at least," Elena adds.

Klaus glances up at her at this, but she resists the temptation to look his way.

Even Klaus, quietly and steadily drinking across the table from her, doesn't bother her.

It's easy not to look at him when she can feel him looking at her.

Stefan nudges her when he jokes with her about the mismatched couple at the next table over, or maybe it's the warmth of the alcohol lighting her up and making it possible for her to laugh with him, making it possible for her to nudge him back and point out that he and the man with the wife who obviously doesn't love him back are dressed just the same.

Elena watches as he approaches a lovely woman in her forties standing over by the bar, her black hair loose around her shoulders. When he leans down to whisper something in her ear, she throws back her head and laughs, her fingers brushing against Klaus's suit jacket. A gesture he would never allow from her, yet tolerates from this total stranger. A moment later, Elena does recognize the stranger though—it's the woman from the next table over—the one who had so obviously not loved her husband back. Klaus's hand ghosts over the sliver of bare skin exposed by the plunging back on the woman's dress, a slow caress. A seduction.

Klaus has his own prey tucked close to his side—the same woman he had chatted up before, apparently not bright enough to escape him when she had the chance. Klaus leans over and whispers in her ear every now and then, whatever he says causing the woman to tremble like a rabbit.

He came absolutely untethered when he discovered I'd led Mikael to you, but he left in such a rush to get to you that I assumed he was saving his wrath for after he'd rescued you."

Yours faithfully ,

Reader .

This made my heart explode. Thank you 💙💙💙💙💙💙

[zootplayz]

How Did we Get Here?

Once upon a time there was a simmer named Zoot. This simmer found a wonderful community called Sims Amino. Whom without their input and fabulous creators would of never heard of the Not so Berry challenge or the one we are about to undertake. When her one year anniversary was approaching she decided to host a little collaborative competition. In this competition a sim was born and given a backstory by a wonderful member of this community. There were only a few entries but Zoot enjoyed them all and hopes those that did enter are enjoying whatever pack they requested. In any competition there can only be one winner and that was: Dumblekitty With the lovely sim: Natalie Morales Something about this sim truly spoke to me. And it's not just because she's totally adorable. Her sad tragic story got my creative juices flowing and I knew just what I wanted to do with her and how I wanted to play with her. So without further ado here's what Dumbles sim and story got Zoot thinking. Warning it's alot of reading! ********** We've been living in these forgotten woods in Newcrest a long time.

It's been hard. But, we finally have a roof over our heads. There's a little hut back there we managed to put together. But it wasn't always there.

Peanut and I would still be sleeping on the ground under the trees if we hadn't been at the wrong place at the wrong time.

Tattooine is deserted at night so Peanut and I would head there and use their facilities to clean up and scrounge what we could before morning. Yes it's trespassing but we had little options. It was trespass and steal and survive or stick to the woods and slowly rot away. That's no choice if you ask me, so there we were, as usual, going through the same routine. We were headed to the kitchens after getting cleaned up to see what we could find when I heard shouting in the bar across the way.

Something about 'never liking Pancakes'. 'Who doesn't like Pancakes?' I thought as I quickly disappeared into the restaurant so they didn't see me. "Let's see what we can throw together Peanut."

As I prepared a quick fruit salad and Peanut gnawed on a leftover chicken leg I heard someone approach.

"I don't like pancakes!" It was the first thing that popped in my head. I knew I wasn't supposed to be there and I just panicked. When I finally worked up the courage to turn around I saw how upset he was. He clearly wasn't there to get me in trouble.

I apologized and tried to comfort him the best I could. 'Im sorry. Pancakes for breakfast everyday would be, by definition: paradise.' He chuckled. We split the fruit salad and we listened to each others troubles. I told him about my past and living in the woods and sneaking in here to survive. He told me about his marriage troubles, the divorce his wife is so keen on and of course pancakes. For hours we spoke. As the sun started to rise we wished each other the best and headed our separate ways. It was nice to talk to someone about everything but I never thought I'd see him again.

I couldn't of been more wrong. A little over a month later me and Peanut were relaxing by the pool when suddenly he appeared.

'I signed the papers,' he said. Looking thoroughly broken and dejected.

'What am I supposed to do now? It's been so long I don't even know what makes me happy anymore.' 'How do you manage to still smile after everything you've been through and continue to go through?' So, for the next few hours I told him. My dog Peanut, jumping in puddles, the sound of crackling leaves under my feet as I walk in my little patch of woods. The world may be rough and cold and dark at times but there's beauty and light all around if you're just willing to see it and let it in. He left that morning still upset but there was now hope in those sad eyes and I thought to myself 'He's going to be okay.' Again the thought of seeing him again, never crossed my mind.

But of course, once again I was very wrong. It was another eight months before I saw him again and I almost didn't recognize him. I'd been lazing in the sauna when he came in.

He'd lost alot of weight and initially I was frightened a perfect stranger had just barged in on me. 'Bob?' Apparently he took my advice, he'd started taking better care of himself. If he was going to get over this rough patch he needed to be happy with himself first, he realized. He'd moved to a glitzy apartment in San Myshuno, adopted a dog from the local shelter and started a new job at a great restaurant that specialized in gourmet pancakes. Things were looking up for Mr. Pancakes and there was more to the story. In the divorce settlement everything in the bank went to Eliza and he got the house. '.. in the end she got the short end of the stick', he laughed. 'She could never resist cold hard cash even if the house was worth 10x what was in the bank.' Apparently, she's now living with a Don Caliente. Which by the smirk on Bob's face doesn't bode well for the former Mrs. Pancakes. But her predicament is not why Bob came back to Tattooine looking for me. He'd remembered my plight and since I was there for him when he needed me most he hoped to do the same. '... it's not much... But I hope it's enough to at least get you out of the cold.' I gaped in shock. 22,000 simoleons!!! I'd never seen so much money. It was more than enough to build me and Peanut a little shelter in the woods I'd come to think of as home.

And that brings us to today. 2 years later "We've made it Peanut. Things can only get better from here."

I've started to go after my dream of becoming a children's author and write everyday.

I've earned enough to actually put the notebook down and start writing on a computer.

But I haven't forgotten the man who made this all possible and due to the magic of social media I found him again. With that one click I discovered he hadn't forgotten about me either and we met up for a meal.

Not pancakes.

He was looking better than ever but there's still such sadness in his face.

Could he ever come to think of me as more than just 'that poor homeless girl with the ever-cheerful personality'?

Or is my bubbliness too much for such a gloomy disposition? At this point it's hard to tell. For now, I have Peanut.

And for the first time since I was a child...

A future. Part 02 Read the full article

[mads-weasley]

An Adorable Drunk

Bradley Bradshaw x Wife!Reader

Masterlist

Request: yes! from @savvysaucepacket

Summary: After Bradley has a rowdy night at The Hard Deck, (y/n) takes care of her drunk husband.

Warnings: cute rooster

(Y/n) was sitting at the kitchen table, the kindergarten worksheets she was grading spread across the area when she got a call. She expected Bradley's name to pop up on the screen, but when Phoenix's did instead, she furrowed her brows.

"This is (y/n)," she answered.

"Hey (y/n), we have a situation."

A million thoughts ran through her head, and Natasha picked up on this, reassuring her. "Everything's okay!"

"Okay," (y/n) sighed, "What's up?"

"Well, Bradley is currently so drunk that he's dancing on top of the piano stool." The pilot paused, a loud commotion filling the phone before Rooster's slurring voice could be heard, yelling, "I'm 'kay!"

"Nat, was that what I think it was?"

"Yep. He just fell. You need to come get him."

Getting up, (y/n) rushed to grab her keys, shutting the door behind her. "I'm on my way."

'The one time I'm not there with him,' she thought, rolling her eyes playfully. Normally the couple would go out together, but she had a lot of papers to grade, so she'd sent him to The Hard Deck by himself. Since they got married 3 years ago, she could count on one hand the times Bradley had gotten completely wasted.

1 - Their honeymoon

2 - Bob's wedding

3 - The night after the mission that called them all back to Top Gun

Pulling up to the bar, she could see Bradley's slumped-over figure leaning against the deck railing, sitting on the stairs, and Hangman beside him, keeping him upright. (Y/n) drove the car as close to the entrance as she could, wanting to give her husband less of a chance to faceplant on the sandy gravel.

The second she jumped out of the car, Bradley tried to get up but fell back down on the stairs.

"Look! It's my wife! Hey, baby." he slurred, a lazy smile growing on his face.

She kneeled in front of him, trying to hold in a laugh. "Hey, Roos. Let's get you home."

"Show me the way, honey."

Kissing him on the forehead, she couldn't contain her laughter anymore. "Close, babe."

Hangman helped Bradley into the front seat without falling, even though there were almost a few faceplants. (Y/n) buckled him in and started to close the door. He stopped her, grabbing her wrist.

"You're the best wife, (y/n/n)."

With a smile, she shut his door softly and climbed into the driver's seat. The whole way home, Bradley wouldn't stop lovably rambling about how she was the best wingman, or wing-woman (he corrected himself), he could ever have.

"See, nobody else would put up with me and all the stuff I do. That's why you're the best. You take care of me, feed me, cuddle with me," his eyes widened, "more than cuddle with me, drive me places. I'm so glad you're with me."

"Me too, Brad. Me, too." she said, grinning.

Halfway to their house, (y/n) noticed he had stopped talking, so she peered over at him.

He was dead asleep, snoring with his face smushed against the window and his mouth wide open. She smiled at the adorable sight before her. The soft moonlight beamed through the window onto his face, making him look even more child-like than usual. He looked like he did when they were both teenagers falling in love.

Pulling into the driveway, she tried to figure out how she was going to get her 6-foot, two-hundred-something pound, naval aviator of a husband up the front steps without crushing her. There was no great option, she decided. Rubbing his leg softly, she tried to wake him up.

"Brad, come on, wake up, babe," she whispered, moving her hands to his face and rubbing his cheeks. After trying this a few times with no response, she knew she had to try a different approach.

Summoning her best Cyclone-like yell, she took a deep breath. "Lieutenant Bradshaw!"

He immediately shook awake...well, as awake as you can be while wasted. "Yes, sir." he sleepily saluted.

When he saw who it was, he reached out for her. "I'm sorry, baby, I called you a sir." Lazily looking her up and down, he smirked. "I definitely know you're not a sir."

Rolling her eyes with a chuckle, she pulled him out of the car, slinging his arm over her shoulders so she could take some of his weight. He stumbled a few times and (y/n) thought she was going to go down, but somehow she managed to stay upright.

Once they got up the front steps, she sighed in relief, thankful that their bedroom was on the first floor of their house. Gently sitting him on the bed, she went and got some aspirin and a glass of water.

"Take this. It'll help your headache," she whispered, holding out her hand.

His eyes were closed and his head began to lull forward, but he caught himself, jerking back upright. "I don't have a headache."

"Trust me. You will." she paused. "Just take it, please."

He nodded slowly, still half asleep. "Yes, ma'am. Anything for the Mrs."

As he took the pill, she began to undress him. First, she slid off his shoes, then tugged his jean shorts off, leaving him in his boxers. His signature Hawaiian shirt was the next to slide off, so all that was left was his white cutoff.

"Arms up, Rooster."

His drunk version of "arms up" was raising his arms to his eye level. She gently pushed them higher before grabbing the hem of the shirt and pulling it over his head, leaving him in nothing but his boxers and socks, which was how he liked to sleep.

Bradley raised his eyebrows suggestively. "Hmm, Mrs. Bradshaw."

She kissed his forehead lovingly. "Sorry, hun, there will be none of that tonight. You're drunk as a skunk."

He laughed for a second but then went back into woozy-land, eyes fluttering closed.

Now that he was ready for bed, (y/n) pulled back the covers, gently guiding him to lay back. She drew the sheets up to his chest as he nestled into bed.

"You're the bes'," he slurred, drifting off to sleep.

(Y/n) ran her fingers through his wavy hair, kissing his temple. "And you, Bradley Bradshaw," she whispered, "Are an adorable drunk."

Tag List:

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[bluebellhairpin]

Not Jealous

Bruce Wayne X Batmom!Reader

A/N: So I worked on this instead of like, five other things that people want but hey - gal’s gotta have her vices. - Nemo

Summary: Even after years of fancy gatherings, Bruce wants nothing more than to give in to his introvert nature and run away from them. You however, have taught him that after sticking it out, they might not be so bad. 

Warnings: Flirting. Bruce get’s jealous but not really ‘cause Batman doesn’t get jealous. Reader has she/her pronouns and is referred to as uh ‘wife’ multiple times. 

Listening to: ‘Can’t Take My Eye’s Off You’ by Frankie Valli - ‘Pardon the way that I stare, there's nothin' else to compare... You're just too good to be true.’ 

Series Masterlist

Masterlist  

Gala’s were something that Bruce never really liked. 

As Bruce Wayne - the billionaire, playboy, golden child, Prince of Gotham - he couldn’t get to enough of them. 

As Batman - the brooding, ‘I work alone but not really’, Protector of Gotham - he avoided them at all costs. 

But as himself - the friend, father, husband, Bruce - his thoughts on such events could only be described as apathetic. 

Over the years he grew a very nice façade to hide how he truly felt. After the entrance of his wife, and then each child that followed, it became easier to fake, and he did have to admit they became a little more enjoyable with proper company anyway. 

Of course, the first time he saw she who would be his wife at one of these events, she was hanging off the arm of some blond, tanned, rich member of high society. From his knowledge and meetings with her on the streets she wasn’t exactly supposed to be enjoying it as much as she looked like she was. 

Turns out she was one great faker too. 

Over the course of the past seventeen-ish years, Bruce got to know the various ways you dealt with these gala’s. 

While he was tempted with the recluse lifestyle everyday, you managed to get him out of the house when it was needed. Even if it was a big house, he still needed to get out of it sometimes. 

With the outings you used to force him on, he was able to learn a thing or two from you. You weren’t born into wealth like he was, and you never had it until you married him, but you took to it like a fish to water. Well, the avoiding attention part anyway. In fact, when it came to going to gala’s with you, he was surprised at how little attention you drew when you didn’t want it. 

The first time you went as a couple, and then again as a married couple, were the worst as far as being left alone went, and he did expect it. Newspapers craved that sort of thing. 

After that, when it was just him and you, the most you were asked of was the journey between the car and the front door thanks to the press and media - once inside you could sulk away to a corner or table, get up for a dance or two, loiter at the bar and then go home without anymore than a half dozen people approaching. Those were very good nights for Bruce, mainly because on those nights he’d rather be anywhere else. 

As if he didn’t feel that way about them anyway. 

But lately your trick of not gaining attention at the gala’s wasn’t working anymore. It wasn’t that people were noticing him again, no it was because they were noticing you. 

Namely someone kept noticing you. 

“You both have never looked more alike.” 

Tim slid into a set opposite Bruce and Damian. Bruce had a crystal tumbler filled with ginger ale pressed to his lips, unmoving as his eyes locked onto where you stood across the room. Damian was in the exact same position, whether knowingly or not, and was sending a glare towards the man who was looking far too happy about talking to you. 

“We are kind of literally related, Tim.” Bruce mumbled, sipping his drink before setting it down and leaning back in his seat.

“He’s too close.” Damian whispered.

“I know.” 

“She could get uncomfortable soon.”

“I know.”

“If it bothers you so much then either of you could go over there and whisk her away.” Tim said, shaking his head a little. “Bruce could pull out his charisma, or the gremlin could pretend to ask for a dance with his mother all cute and mother-son-like.”

Damian switched his glare over to Tim.

“Why don’t you go and fix it since you’re so smart?”

“‘Cause it’s not bothering me as much as it is you.” Tim laughed. Bruce looked between his two sons, then up to where you and the man were talking. “She can handle herself. Plus he’s way below her league anyway, if she doesn’t know that then something’s wrong.” 

“You don’t think Ummi’s being mind controlled right now, do you?” Damian asked, sitting straighter and squinting a little. “We should go home and -”

Bruce stood, patting Damian’s shoulder as he pushed his chair back in, and then strode over to your side. 

As usual, you noticed his approach with barely having to look, and reached out an arm as he pressed his side to yours. His arm wound it’s way around your waist, and he offered his free hand to the man whose conversation he probably just ruined. 

“Nice to meet you, I’m Bruce Wayne.” he said, lips tight in one of the best and believable fake smiles he’s put on in his entire life. 

“Henry Syrus.” The man said, stepping to match Bruce’s fake pleasantries with his own, “I was just having the most wonderful conversation with your darling wife about the art pieces here. 

“Next time you should compare novelty keychains.” Bruce’s voice was light, but you could tell there was a little something underneath. “I’m afraid I’ll have to take her away for a dance before the night dies down too much.” 

So without another word, Bruce swept you away and onto the dancefloor with the hoard of other swaying couples. 

“You need to practice that.” 

“Practice what?” he asked, looking down at you as his fingers intertwined with yours. 

“The ‘I’m taking my wife away from someone who makes me feel like they’re making her feel weird’ thing you just pulled.” you said, a small smile twitching onto your features from your lips up to your eyes - your first genuine smile of the night - and Bruce was proud to think it was because of him. 

“I did that?” he mused, feigning thought for a moment, “I don’t think I did.” 

“Well you weren’t jealous. Everyone - including you! - says Bruce Wayne does not get jealous.” Bruce spun you away, and then back closer to him again. Closer than before. 

“I don’t need to get jealous, I know you can’t resist me.” he mumbled against your ear, then pressed a kiss to your cheekbone before leaning back some again. “That’s why you keep sticking around.”

“I thought I stuck around because you’re filthy rich and never at home, so that I have the place to do as I please.” 

“Okay, okay,” he said, chuckling, “Now you’re really teasing me.” 

“I’m just getting started.” you said, a sly glint in your eye that made his arm around you tighten. 

“Oh? Dare I ask what else you have in store?” he replied, preparing to meet whatever you came up with. You hummed at him, surveying the room and fellow dancers before looking back up at him again.

“I’m gonna take you home, pull you into our bedroom, and take you out of this monkey suit -”

“- it’s a tux, not a suit -”

“- I’m going to take you out of this tuxedo,” you corrected, tugging on his tie as he smiled down at you, “And then we’re gonna sleep for twelve. Whole. Hours.” He groaned. 

“You love me so much. You know exactly what to say. You treat me so well.” 

“I know.” you said, smiling up at him. He couldn’t help but press his lips to yours in something a little longer than a peck, and you hummed again. “Now you’re making Henry jealous with all the faces you’re making.” 

“How can you tell, you can’t see him?” he asked. Looking over, he was able to see that, yes, the man you were with before wasn’t looking incredibly happy at the moment. 

“I’m a mother of at least five children, Bruce. And I have to deal with you. I can tell when someone’s glaring at my back.” 

“I do glare a lot.” He grimaced. “I should’ve known better.” 

“Underestimate me again and you’ll pay for it.”

“And if I do then you can name your price, my dear.”

[kingmikoto]

𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐘 ♡ ⋆ ˊˎ-

𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄. honestly i feel like this is horrible LMFAO but i will b posting all my fave fandoms and characters and make a corresponding masterlist soon. lmk what you think bc my writer's block is so badddd

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒. a little steamy

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘. husband! itachi is a little possessive and it shows.

Itachi wasn't a stingy person by nature. He loved sharing his meals and was always happy to give you the last dumpling. He enjoyed when you wore his t-shirts that caressed your knees and slid up your thighs when you stretched in the mornings. He would give you his other earbud when you two were lounging in your shared apartment, listening to his favorite tunes but mostly yours because loved the way you would sing along. Even shielding you from the rain with the extra large umbrella he bought specifically for the both of you to fit under.

But you. You he was stingy with. One could even say possessive. Not in a deranged way, but in a way that he would bring you closer to him when another man would stare at you for too long. On rare occasions, his whole mood would sour when he saw another man being courageous enough to approach you at the bar that you guys would regularly visit. That damned dress that you were wearing that hugged at your curves in all the right places and caught the attention of wandering and unwanted eyes.

He had only been gone for three minutes, dammit. Men were practically lined up, flocking to your side in place of his absence.

Sometimes, Itachi would merely observe. It was masochistic of him really and you were a real sadist for torturing him like this. Other times we would obviously intervene, but this time he glared at the man who was clearly trying to engage you into some conversation that led back to his apartment. It wasn’t you who he didn’t trust. It was the foul, vile, half-witted men that congregated around you that made him tick. Violently at that.

It all happened in an instant. The strange man didn’t even lift his hand, but he found himself being slammed down against the bar as drinks sloshed and gasps were audibly heard from the crowd.

You didn’t even flinch as you watched your husband man-handle him against the wooden counter as he writhed beneath him.

“What the hell man?!” He squabbled at the ravenette.

“Don’t touch her.” Itachi spoke.

His icy voice ran a shiver up your spine as you felt a smile creep up on your face.

The man’s eyes broadened as he felt his face flush crimson. “I-I wasn’t go-going to–”

“I saw it in the way your eyes suddenly darkened and the way your fingers twitched in anticipation. You thought you were going to cop a feeling on my own wife?”

His face visibly reddened even more as his voice shook, but Itachi was done with him. He simply tossed him to the side as he possessively tugged your waist to his side and the audience you two managed to gather was gawking at the pair of you as you exited the bar.

“You didn’t have to be so rough.” You pouted as you swung your body in front of his form.

He peered down at you with serene onyx hues like nothing had happened moments ago.

“You enjoyed that, didn’t you?”

You searched his gaze for a moment before you let your grin slip between your teeth. His hand tracing the small of your back before pressing you flush against him and his whole mein had changed from tranquil to impish.

“You baited me.”

Your fingers danced across his chest as you studied his expression with doe eyes.

“And if I did?”

He leaned forward so that his lips were at the shell of your ear.

“You’ll pay for that.”

[falcqns]

Hi, first of all i love your work 💕 and second, I wanted to request a Chris Evans angsty to fluff one shot? Where he is much older than the reader (she’s in her early 20s) and they have confessed their attraction for each other but are not sure how to proceed, nothing much happens during the confession. But the next day there’s an event or party where both attend separately, during it they stare at each other from across the room but suddenly Chris is crowded mostly by women much older than you and they flirt with him, and he sees you getting sad and insecure about your feelings and about his feelings too and obviously your age, so maybe you run off somewhere else and he decides to follow and then reassures you he likes you, then it’s all fluff? Maybe with a kiss at the end?🥺 thank uuuu!! I hope you’re having a nice day💓

Age Gap

pairing: chris evans x younger!reader

warnings: age gap, fluff, angst, insinuations to smut, hannah montana reference lmao

a/n: thank you for the request and i hope you enjoy! also i wrote this on my phone so i apologize for any mistakes lol

being 21 and having a crush on a 39 year old was tough.

finding out that that 39 year old felt the same was even tougher.

when you got the chance to audition with him for his new movie, Deep Silence, you jumped at it. just getting to be in a room with him blew your mind, but when your agent called you and told you you got a role, you were ecstatic.

you had originally auditioned for the role of Emma Garner, Chris’s characters daughter, but he decided you were perfect for the role of his characters wife, Francesca Garner instead.

you had no idea why. you were barely 21, and he was 19 years older than you. it would make so much more sense for you to play his daughter, but you accepted the role of his wife nonetheless.

at least now you won’t have to watch your crush kiss another girl, something that was all too familiar in high school.

when you two had your first love scene, you were terrified. how were you going to keep the fact that you were incredibly attracted to your co star a secret while acting out something that is so private?

you had a suspicion that he felt the same during filming, when he’d purposely ground his hard on into your centre and rasped into you ear “if you liked that”, but he ran away to his trailer before you could ask him about it.

you thought he was finally going to talk to you about it when he approached you a few days later, but he ended up just asking if you wanted to go to disneyland with him and Scott and his boyfriend, to which you accepted.

the day was fun, with the four of you taking lots of photos, going on lists of rides, eating lots of food (that ultimately made Scott throw up after one two many churros and and a ride on Seven Dwarves) and ended in you guys watching Happily Ever After. About halfway through, Chris pulled you into his arms, and pressed his lips to yours.

as soon as he kissed you, all the background noise faded away, and the two of you stood there like teenagers making out for the rest of the show.

when that happened, you thought for sure that he’d finally ask you out. you’d ask him out, but that seemed insanely intimidating, and you weren’t down for that at all. but, he didn’t make a move. other than kissing. he’d kiss you constantly, but it never progressed passed making out, and you were a little disappointed.

eventually, comic con came up, and you wouldn’t be attending with Chris, rather than the TV show you were a regular on. you had spotted him watching you in the crowd, thanks to your favourite actress who was also on the panel with you. you attended his as well, and even asked a question, as your movie hadn’t been announced yet, so people wouldn’t know you unless they watched your show.

then, the after party rolled around. you had messaged briefly, but hadn’t really spoken, something you were hoping to do tonight. you had reached your wits end, and just decided to man up and talk to him about where you two stood.

but, you couldn’t find him. you’d wandered around with your co stars and talked to a few directors and casting agents to get your name out there for future projects, but you couldn’t for the life of you locate Chris.

Until you got to the bar. you had just ordered your favourite drink, when you spotted him at the other end of the bar. but, he wasn’t alone. he was surrounded by five or six women who were definitely much older than you, and your heart sank.

it didn’t shatter, however, until you saw Chris flirting back. your eyes welled up with tears, and you tried to wipe them discreetly without Chris or anyone noticing, but of course that didn’t happen.

Chris was doing his best to ward off the ladies swarming him, so he could come and find you. he had been leading you on for too long, and he just needed to ask you out already, before another guy snatched you from his fingers.

suddenly, he caught movement out of the corner of his eye, and looked up, thinking it was Scott coming back with more food, but his heart dropped when he saw you. you were stood there, looking absolutely magnificent, but your eyes were full with tears, almost to the point of spilling over onto the cheeks he loved to kiss and hold in his hands so much.

he looked at the swarm of ladies that had formed around him, and swore, realizing what you were probably thinking.

he watched as you turned and stormed away, towards the door. he politely excused himself, and headed after you.

he followed you out the door he watched you disappear through, but his heart sank even lower when he realized you weren’t there. he was about to go back inside and ask your co stars for your room number, when he heard the tell tale signs of your sobs coming from a hidden alcove to his left.

he ran down the steps and over to the alcove, and his heart broke when he saw you. you were leaning against the wall, you head in your hands. loud sobs were escaping your mouth, and he knew for a fact you had an endless amount of tears running down your face, the saltiness of them probably already swelling your beautiful face up.

he wasted no time in coming over to you and wrapping you up tight in his arms. you tried to pull out of them, but he stood firm, and eventually you relaxed.

“i’m so sorry.” he whispered, and your sobs subsided. you shook your head and looked up at him.

“no. i’m sorry. i’m sorry that i was born in the wrong generation, because maybe then one of us would have the courage to ask the other out without fear of judgement. i’m sorry that i’m not as mature as those girls, or as talented. i’m sorry that i probably read into things like i always do and ruine-“ you began; but was cut off by Chris soft lips.

when he pulled away, he rested his forehead atop yours. “no. don’t. you’re perfect. so fuckin’ perfect it scares me sometimes. it absolutely terrifies the shit out of me how perfect you are because i don’t want to hurt you. you’re so young and innocent, and i love that about you. i don’t want to be the one to crush that innocence that i love so much by hurting you. but, i shouldn’t have let that hold me back. we’re both legal, so age is just a number. i should have told you that say i fuckin’ dry humped you on set.” he said, and you laughed at the last bit. “i love you so fuckin’ much, y/n, it honestly scares me. but being scared is good. it makes me human, and i’m not letting that hold me back from treating you the way you deserve to be treated. if you can find it in your heart to forgive me, i will spend the rest of our time together showing you just how much i love and appreciate you.” he said, and you looked up at him. “will you be my girlfriend?” he asked softly, and you nodded in happiness, your lips pressing to his.

Chris smiled into the slightly salty, but still loving kiss. he finally had you, and he wasn’t going to let you go. you were his whole world, and he was kicking himself for not realizing it sooner.

the two of you were currently walking hand in hand back to the venue, when you spoke up. “that was the sweetest speech. i’m not mad at you because of those girls. i realized shortly after that you wouldn’t do anything like that, but i thought maybe you’d realize that they were better than me, so that’s why i left.” you explained, and Chris tugged you in closer to his body.

“that makes me so happy, sweet girl. it was a mistake letting those girls do that and i should have stopped it sooner, but everybody makes mistakes.” he said.

you giggled before responding. “everybody has those days.” you said with the straightest face possible and Chris turned and stared at you for a second before realizing the reference.

“Hannah Montana? oh my god you’re so innocent,” he said, moaning the last few words into your ears, his hands gripping your waist to pull you against him.

you bit your lip and smiled. “i’m not completely innocent,” you said right back, and smiled in happiness when you felt him hardening against your stomach.

“mmm, really baby?” he moaned, and you nodded, before whispering in his ear.

“take me back to your hotel room and i’ll show you.”

[im-constantly-fangirling-backup]

Here Comes the Cavalry

REPOST BECAUSE TUMBLR HATES ME

Thomas Shelby x Reader

Warnings: Swear words

Word Count: ~2.3k

A/N: Thank you so much for requesting this, anon! I had a really fun time writing this and I hope you enjoy!

Summary: Charlie's 10th birthday finds itself the center of a showdown between Thomas and his ex-wife over the new woman in his life.

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Being a friend of the Shelby's- didn’t matter how close or distant- was like walking around with a target on your back. But you didn’t mind. As much violence and chaos that the family attracts, and as much as they try to have power over each other, there was a mutual love and respect between every Shelby that you hadn’t seen anywhere else. For example, when Polly found out Tommy had hidden crucial information, she was pissed; but also proud. It was a bit concerning, if you were going to be honest. Even Grace was kept in the loop after the divorce. Once a Shelby, always a Shelby, you supposed. Grace wasn’t involved in the family business at all, but she and the family met occasionally. Although, as time passed on, it was mostly so Charlie could spend time with his father. Grace was now remarried and her visits were far and in between. She drifted apart from all the Shelbys- not that they minded, as her betrayal was still in their minds all those years later. Thomas started to move on from her as well, now very much used to Grace not being a part of his day-to-day life. Today was the day that Grace and Charlie were making a rare visit to the Arrow House for his 10th birthday. Thomas postponed all of his meetings for the entire week to make time for his son, an action that made you smile when you heard Tom tell his clients of his absence. And they call him heartless, you had laughed to yourself. “Ada! How are you doing!” you said, hugging your best friend before walking into the Arrow House. You took off your coat and hung it on the hook next to the door. “Oh I’m doing great sweetheart,” she said. “Auntie Y/NNNNNN!” you heard a little boy’s voice yell from the stairs. The pitter-patter of their feet running across the wooden floor echoed through the large room and made you chuckle. “Hello, Karl!” you kneeled on your knees and opened your arms for Karl, who ran into them and almost made you topple over. “Someone’s excited to see me!” You squeezed him lightly, resting your cheek on his head. You pulled away from him and reached into your purse, grabbing a chocolate bar that you had bought for Karl. “I got you something!” Karl smiled, his cute crooked teeth on display. “Thank you!” He grabbed the bar from your hand and started unwrapping it, running away from you and towards the living room. “Uncle Arthur, look what Auntie Y/N gave me!” he yelled. “What did I say about the chocolate?” Ada chided you. You laughed. “I couldn’t help it Ada,” you defended yourself. “He’s too adorable to not spoil.” In the background, you heard Karl laugh loudly. “You can’t have any Uncle Arthur, it’s for me!” You chuckled and shook your head, looking down at the floor in mock exasperation. The Arrow House would be nothing without the echoes of Karl’s screams bouncing around the walls from time to time. Even Thomas seemed to brighten up a bit more whenever Karl and Ada visited. You supposed it was because his nephew reminded him of his own son that he barely got to see. At the thought of Charlie, you looked up to Ada. “When are Charlie and Grace showing up?” Ada shrugged. “They should be here in a couple of minutes. Why don’t we head to the living room? Tommy bought a shit ton of food for Charlie so we might be able to steal a bit.” _______________________________________________________________________________________ You and Ada made your way into the living room and smiled at the exquisite birthday decorations. There were balloons of every color bunched up every couple of feet around the room, a large birthday banner hanging proud and true on the wall across from the fireplace. “Hello, Y/N. Ada,” Tom said from where he sat on the couch, his elbows on his knees. You smiled at him. “Thomas.” Tom smirked slightly- which was a fucking bright-ass grin when it came to Thomas. “We’ve been over the ‘Thomas’ shit, Y/n/n,” he said, quirking his brow. You chuckled. “We have,” you said. “Tom. ‘S just fun to be all fucking formal.” Tom pat the spot on the couch next to him while Ada left your side, sensing that you two wanted some

time alone. You walked over to Tom and sat next to him. “You excited?” Thomas nodded, his blue eyes brightening slightly. “I hardly get to see Charles anymore. You bet your ass I’m spoiling me boy when he’s here,” he joked. You laughed. “I’m sure Charlie’s going to like all of this,” you gestured to the decorations around you. “Oh! Before I forget! Where should I put this?” You reached into your purse and pulled out a folded mancala board that Charlie had begged you for the last time he visited. Thomas smiled and took the board from you, leaning down and sliding it under the couch. “We’re going to open presents after cake, so just remember to pick it back up.” From there, you and Thomas began to talk about the family business. Unlike with Grace, Thomas found himself consulting you on many decisions that he made. You weren’t directly involved but your advice was greatly appreciated by the family. Especially since Thomas wanted to get into politics- a field that you knew well because your father ran for MP multiple times before his death- your advice on what not to do gave him valuable insight on how to maintain a favorable public image. “I know your past is something that can’t be erased,” you said in response to Tom’s concerns about the subject. “But that doesn’t mean it can’t be hidden. Or at least left ambiguous enough that people can’t ask the right questions. You keep the public from asking the right questions, and you make sure they can never find the answers.” “It’s a bit unnerving that you know this,” Tom noted, a smirk on his face. In truth, he was impressed. Your knowledge of politics was quite extensive considering your father tried to keep you away from it for most of your life. But you knew how to eavesdrop and read gossip, and so you gained a wealth of knowledge about politics. You laughed. “You’re acting like you don’t already know this.” Thomas took a drag of his cigarette and chuckled. “You got me there.” Your conversation was interrupted by the distinct shrill of the doorbell. Tom perked up and smiled. “Charles is here!” He practically jumped up from his seat on the couch and made his way to the hall. You followed him to the hall, beckoning Karl, Ada, and Arthur- who had been quietly eating food in the corner, thinking Tom hadn’t noticed- to come with you. You and the group walked into the hall to the sight of Thomas laughing and picking up Charlie in his arms and bouncing him up and down, making his son giggle. “Happy birthday Charlie!” you exclaimed, clapping. Arthur, Karl, Ada- and John and Polly, who had been talking in the hall after you arrived- clapped and joined in wishing Charlie a happy birthday. Charlie and Karl shared a hug that resulted in you awing. You looked at Grace and smiled. “Welcome, Grace,” you greeted her respectfully. Grace simply nodded at you and took off her coat. Turning around to put her coat on the coat hooks next to the door, she gasped lightly in shock when she saw your coat resting next to Tom’s. “Whose coat is this?” she asked casually. You apologized profusely. “It’s mine, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to impose. I can find a different place for it-” Thomas waved his hand nonchalantly. “Oh, no need. You’re not imposing, Y/n/n.” You blushed slightly. “Frances can take your coat, Grace. I trust you remember who she is?” He jabbed at her lightly. Grace huffed and nodded. “Alright.” The tension between Tom and Grace was palpable and made everyone make excuses to leave the room. You left as well, saying something about wanting to play around with Karl and Charlie. You knew things were bad between Thomas and Grace. So bad, in fact, that Tom had approached her with a divorce. Tom was many things, but he wasn’t the type of person to reach for a divorce. He believed that marriage lasted for life. But after Tom’s and Grace’s arguments over his ambitions and dreams started to grow from skirmishes to screaming matches littered with threats, Thomas had enough. He told you the night that he decided to divorce Grace that he didn’t want to spend his life with a woman

that didn’t support his political and business ambitions. You found yourself sympathizing with both of them. You understood Grace’s concerns about the target that would always be on her and Charlie’s back because of Thomas’s ambition. But you also understood Thomas’s argument that his ambitions were also the thing that would provide his family with more opportunities than he had. Thomas’s goals were a double-edged sword. Although, Grace had become quite cold to Thomas in retaliation for the divorce, often sending him and his family veiled insults. So you didn’t feel much remorse for her when Tom made barbed comments like the one made in the hall. You sighed while watching Karl and Charlie play. It was going to be a long party. _______________________________________________________________________________________ All of you were eating cake, you talking with Polly about some gossip that you heard when going shopping for groceries. “Apparently Brandon was just using her for her status,” you said, licking the frosting off of your fork. “But then Brandon caught Melissa sleeping with her boss-” “No fucking way!” Polly interrupted, putting her plate down and gasping. “How the hell do these things happen to people!” You laughed. “I know right! My life is boring in comparison- and I hang out with you insane idiots!” “Hey!” John said from across the table, his mouth full of cake. “We’re not that bad!” “Speak for yourself,” Ada muttered from next to her brother, cringing when John stuck his cake-covered tongue out at her. “Honestly, Y/N,” Grace’s refined voice reverberated through the dining room, “You shouldn’t be gossiping this much. It’s a boring pastime.” You quirked your brow. “I’m sorry?” “Oh it’s alright, I understand that some people have nothing better to talk about. I’m just saying, gossip signals a bland personality and I’m sure you don’t have that, hm?” Grace’s implied message was clear. You sat in silence for a moment, surprised. “No?” you said, going along with whatever Grace said. In all honesty, you didn’t care what Grace thought of you. She barely visited enough for you to give a shit. But apparently, Tom didn’t want to let it slide. “Look, Grace, it’s not a big deal to gossip, alright? You’d be a big fucking hypocrite telling Y/n/n not to gossip when pretty much everything you talked about was who was fuckin’ who-” “Thomas!” Grace chided. “What? If you’re going to walk in here and criticize how Y/n/n spends their time, you can fuck off, alright? I don’t need some posh stuck-up woman in me house. So either behave yourself and let Charlie have a good birthday,” Thomas threatened, “Or get out of me house and have fun on the streets for a week.” “You’d let your own son live on the streets for a week?” Grace asked, shocked. “My threat regards only you. Charles is me blood- you make me see blood.” Grace looked down at her plate and picked up her fork and ate her cake again. Tom took that as an agreement to get along with everyone and started eating again as well. You were just thankful that you had sent Karl and Charlie to play upstairs. But regardless of the tense situation, a smile graced your face at the immediacy that Tom defended you with. _______________________________________________________________________________________ “Hey,” you tapped Thomas’s shoulder when you both found yourselves alone in the back room. “Thank you for defending me.” Tom nodded and smiled slightly. “Of course.” “I mean it. No one really defends me so I really appreciate it. Especially since it’s Grace.” Tommy’s brows raised slightly at that comment. “What do you mean?” You shrugged, looking anywhere but at Tom. “I mean, she was the woman that made you the person you used to be before France. I understand there’s some bad blood between you two now, but she’s still special to you.” Tom hummed and walked closer to you, stopping at around 2 feet away from you. “So are you, you know. You’re special to me.” You smiled. “You’re special to me, too.” Thomas’s hand cupped your cheek lightly, his thumb stroking

back and forth. A flush made its way to your cheeks and you smiled shyly at Tom. There was always some unspoken bond between the two of you that you danced around. You were always scared that it was too early after his divorce, but with the way that he was looking at you, he probably got over it a while ago. You don’t know who leaned forward first, but one second later your mouths were connected in a feverish kiss. Tom’s hands were traveling places, touching parts of your body that you caught him eyeing from time to time. Your hands rested against his chest and reveled in the feeling of his heart thumping against his chest as erratically as yours. So you had the same effect on him as he did on you. The kiss was a good indicator of that, but it was nice to have reassurance. Tom pulled away and rested his forehead on yours. “Fuck, I’ve wanted to do that for months now,” Tom confessed. You smiled, pecking him on the lips. “So have I,” you replied, pulling his mouth back to yours.

[messers-moony]

Dangerous | S.B

Paring: Young!Sirius Black X Fem!Reader

Summary: Sirius Black falls for the female player at Hogwarts despite his friends warning that she’s dangerous.

Prompt: Wearing clothes in their favorite color.

Sirius Black had a thing for red and black clothing. Blame it on his house and his last name, but he absolutely adored the colors. Back at home, Sirius’ room was filled to the brim with the sultry red and shiny gold colors, paired with a brilliantly dark black. He despised the color green due to it being associated with his family. Anything having to do with his family he wanted no part of.

A trip to Hogsmeade was all it took for her to catch his eye. That same sultry red top - the color he loved oh-so-much - and black leggings to match. Doc Martens on her feet, creased and so obviously loved due to the scuffs. Sirius felt like he was in heaven. Of course, Y/n knew what she was doing. All around, school girls fawned over the sixth year. Sirius Black was a player, but so was she. She’d managed the most brutal guys in their year and above. Sirius Black would be easy.

James snapped in front of Sirius’ glazed eyes, “Mate! Come back to us!”

Sirius shook his head slightly, bringing his attention back to the three males in front of him, “What?”

“Staring at L/n?” James snickered, and Sirius scoffed, “Staring at Evans?” Sirius mocked.

Remus snorted, “She’s a player, Pads. She’ll rip your heart in two.”

“Two can play it that way.”

“She's dangerous.”

A roll of the raven-haired boy's eyes, “Bullshit.”

“Padfoot, we’re serious.” Remus warned, “Y/n is no joke. She’s all charisma.”

“We’re looking out for you, mate.” James stated with his hazel eyes pleading, “The last thing we want is a sulking Sirius.” Peter interjected.

Sirius made a noise of defeat. He continued to stare. Merlin, she was beautiful. The way her h/c hair fell from her head and her confident demeanor. It was no wonder why she managed everyone she wanted. But Sirius would be no fling to her. Despite her adventures with other men, he always stayed consistent. He was always haunting her mind in the worst time.

Y/n was powerful, and she knew it. The whole castle knew it. Y/n was a force to be reckoned with but to be wary of. A master of fake kindness and persuasion skills better than a salesperson. Wearing the dark maroon and black was the beginning of her plan to catch the eldest Black brother's eye. Hogsmeade turned out to be successful as she saw him gawking at her multiple times.

At the end of the day, she returned to her dorm with a bag from Honeydukes. Nothing was better than chocolate at 4 a.m. Maybe Sirius would think the same. Maybe Sirius would indulge in her late-night habits, or perhaps he’d despise them. Truthfully, Y/n was guarded and let no one in. But for him, she’d drop her walls.

A week passed since Hogsmeade and Y/n took a trip to the Astronomy tower to eat the chocolate she had bought a week ago. Climbing up the stairs, she heard a faint sniffling. Y/n wore a Gryffindor sweater, black pants, and black socks. Hair tied up in a messy updo. Y/n padded across the concrete floor to see a male sitting on the edge.

His knees to his chest as his body shook. Dark raven hair, almost blending in with the night sky. Pale skin glowing in the moonlight. White shirt and plain joggers - sleep attire. Perhaps he wanted to be alone? Y/n didn’t know what it was, but she sat beside him. She drew a chocolate bar from her pocket and set it between them. Pushing it slightly towards the crying boy.

The boy looked up. Y/n was met with familiar blue-grey eyes. They looked beautiful in the moonlight despite their glossy texture and red glaze. Y/n thought every part of him was beautiful. Sirius Black would forever be the prettiest boy she ever saw. Hesitantly Sirius took the chocolate delicacy and unwrapped it. Nibbling on it like a bunny with a carrot.

Y/n looked at the stars in front of them, “Hiding does no good, you know?”

Sirius looked confused, “Hiding from your problems? Not allowing yourself to get help?”

“I’m sure you’d like to be alone, but you need to talk. Maybe not to me but to James, or Remus, or Peter. I know they’d listen. They aren’t your friends for nothing.” Y/n explained, not sparing Sirius a glance, “It must be nice to have friends. I’ve lived in this castle for six years now, yet I have no one to lean on truly.”

“That isn’t true.”

Y/n turned to him; his voice was hoarse and cracked, “It isn’t?”

“No.”

“How would you know?”

“Because I’m your friend.” Sirius confessed, “My friends say you’re dangerous.” He admitted after a moment of silence.

Y/n chuckled and looked back out to the sky, “People act as if I have claws. What if, in reality, I’m just a cat unwilling to trust?”

“I never really liked cats.”

“Okay, what if I’m a dog - scared and timid - and someone tries getting into my territory. What would that dog do then?”

“Defend themself.”

“Exactly. Maybe I’m that scared and timid dog just trying to defend myself. Protecting myself from heartbreak. Yet people mistake my protection for aggressiveness.” Y/n stated.

Sirius was still in his curled-up position, desperately wanting to understand, “Why are you afraid of heartbreak?”

“Because that’s all I’ve ever seen. My parents? Divorced. My brother and his wife? Divorced. No one in my family stays together long. They end up apart and heartbroken. It’s like I’ve been cursed.” Y/n answered.

Silence passed through the tower seamlessly, like a clock ticking time by. Sirius stared at her bewildered. His friends were wrong. She wasn’t dangerous. She was cautious and terrified. He uncurled his legs and moved beside her. Gently he reached out for her hand. Y/n found his hand to be slightly wet but disregarded it. Turning to face Sirius in the eyes, Y/n noticed his nervousness. Like a puppy trying to approach after getting yelled at.

“Do- Do you- Do you want to break the curse?” Sirius whispered, his breath hitting her cheek, “Wh- What?”

“Hogsmeade is in a week, and- and I’d- I’d like to take you if that’s alright.” Sirius replied, his breath smelt like the chocolate she’d given him.

Y/n swallowed, “But I’m dangerous.”

“You’re a puppy that’s scared and looking for a home, trying to survive. Let me give you shelter - a home.”

“You really want to try this?”

“If you promise not to run, then yes, let’s break your family's curse.” Sirius answered.

“I- I promise, but it will be hard. It’s been years since I’ve opened up to someone.” Y/n admitted, and Sirius gave her the softest smile she’d ever seen, “I’d wait till the end of time.”

Y/n’s eyes filled with tears, his thumb running over hers, “Then- Then let’s try this.”

Sirius smiled and let his lips wander to her cheek. Lingering for just a moment before wrapping his arm around her shoulders. Letting go of her hand to do so. Y/n’s head rested on his shoulder. Y/n was never dangerous - she was scared, and Sirius knew what it was like to be afraid. Sirius would wait until the ends of the earth if it took that long for her to be open with him. Sirius would prove that Y/n could call him her home. That Sirius could be her shelter from every danger. She’d no longer have to survive on her own. He’d be there every step of the way.

[rubysunnday]

stupid in love

request by anon: hey congrats for 2.6k followers, that's so cool!!! I don't know if i'm too late but can i request jesper from shadow and bone x reader with prompt 5? would love for it to be romantic :) congrats again and thank you if you decide to write it!! <3

A/N: is this romantic? no idea but I've been writing this for like a month and I'm beyond done with it so have whatever the fuck this is

warnings: six of crows stuff, blood, swearing, alludes to suicide throughout

"I threw myself out a window for you! What more do you want from me?"

Y/N almost punched him. Him throwing himself out the window was the entire reason she was annoyed at him. It had been terrifying and Y/N had thought Jesper was dead. But Jesper had taken it as another fable to tell the punters - hadn't realised how lucky he was. Y/N glowered at Jesper from across the bar as she poured him another shot.

"Maybe for you to actually pay for these shots?" Y/N asked, sliding the shot glass along the bar top to Jesper.

Jesper picked it up and downed it with one smooth movement. "Ah, it's fine, put it on my tab."

Y/N rolled her eyes but obliged, scribbling down the rapidly growing cost of Jesper's evening. He'd actually only had three shots - the rest had been spread around the entire club in celebration of something or other.

Their last job had been chaotic as usual. Jesper had thrown himself out a window, Kaz had almost gotten shot and they'd blown a few things up. But the image of Jesper falling through a window had stuck with Y/N all night.

The entire reason Y/N had ended up in the Dregs was because of her sister. Her sister, who had gone insane, and leapt off a roof, plummeting to her death in front of Y/N. Every time Y/N relived Jesper falling, she saw him in her sister's place. She saw his body instead of hers.

Which was why, Jesper making jokes about his window-smashing exploits wasn't appreciated at that moment.

"'ello, Y/N," Rotty said jogging up to the bar with a beaming smile, breaking her out of her thoughts.

"Evening, Rotty," Y/N called, setting the cleaned glasses on the side. "What can I do for you?"

"Boss wants you," Rotty replied. He gestured over his shoulder at Jesper who was singing a rowdy sea shanty with an arm around a red-haired woman who looked like an actual mermaid. "And him."

"Have you told him?"

"I did."

"And?"

"He said 'in a moment'."

"Oh for -" Y/N bought her fingers to her lips and whistled. Loudly.

The entire bar fell silent and everyone turned to stare at her. She pointed at Jesper and then up at Kaz's office door.

"You, upstairs, now," Y/N demanded.

Jesper sighed, grumbling to himself as he slid off the redhead's lap and practically stomped after Y/N as she walked up the stairs.

She paused at the top and looked down at the still silent bar. "Carry on."

The chatter and sound of money being lost quickly restarted. Y/N shut the office door behind her, the noise from downstairs all but disappearing behind the thick, iron door.

Inej was, unsurprisingly, already there. She stood near to Kaz, her hands clasped behind her back with her hood up. As Y/N approached Kaz, he looked up at her and then at Jesper who'd flopped down in a plush armchair near the window.

"Is he drunk?"

"No," Y/N replied, sitting down in the chair Kaz had in front of his desk and crossing her legs. She fanned out her skirt and clasped her hands together in her lap. "He bought shots for everyone in the club but he's only had three."

"Good, I need him sober," Kaz replied. He gave Jesper a cursory glance over his shoulder. "Jesper, come here."

Jesper stood up and skulked over to the desk, leaning over Y/N's head to see what was on the desk. "Is that -"

"Yes."

"And are we -"

"Yes."

Y/N frowned and sat forward, looking at the plans laid out on Kaz's desk. She raised her eyebrows. "The Geldrenner Hotel? Really? What's there."

"You mean who is there," Kaz corrected. He handed Y/N a newspaper cut out featuring a grainy print of a member of the Merchant Council.

"Is that Van Halla?" Y/N asked, squinting at the print. "Isn't he meant to be in Os Alta?"

"He's on holiday and is staying at the Geldrenner with his wife and entourage or fifty," Kaz replied. "And whilst he is here, he's attending the extravagant birthday of Van Eck."

"Oh, I see where this is going," Y/N said, nodding. "I saw the Van Eck birthday present list - what did Halla get?"

"The Millenium Watch."

Three pairs of eyes looked at Kaz with surprise and shock.

"I'm sorry, you want us to steal the Millenium Watch?" Jesper asked, gaping. "One of the most expensive watches in history?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"I need a new pocket watch," Kaz said with a shrug.

"And the real reason?" Inej asked, raising her eyebrows.

"I've made a deal with someone - in exchange for the Millenium Watch we get the plans to the Boeksplein."

"And what's there?"

"Need to know."

The three of them scoffed but weren't entirely surprised.

"Now, are you done interrogating me?" Kaz asked. "Because I would like to get on with the job."

'So, here's the plan.'

The hotel was ridiculous grand for the streets of Ketterdam. Granted, it did sit in the middle of the Financial District and was within view of the Stadwatch barracks to avoid any burglaries, heists or assassinations.

It was strictly reserved for the rich and wealthy and the majority of Ketterdam knew they would never be privileged enough to see inside the marbled walls.

And up until now, Y/N had thought herself one of those people.

'Jesper, Y/N, you two will go in disguised as staff. Inej will be on the roof and sneak in through the skylight.'

'And what about you, Kaz?"

"I, darling, Y/N, will be causing a distraction.'

"What do you mean there's no reservation for me?!"

Y/N looked up from the bin she was emptying. Kaz was standing at the front desk, dressed in a - quite frankly ridiculous - outfit, waving his arms around and swearing. A lot. Y/N glanced over at Jesper, a smile pulling on her lips. "I take it that that's the distraction," she whispered.

As Kaz continued to flap his arms like a bird, Y/N and Jesper headed over to the hand-operated elevator. The two of them nodded at the elevator operator.

"Seventh floor, please," Jesper said, clasping his hands in front of him.

"Oh, oh, wait, please!"

A woman, dressed in the ridiculous fashions of the wealthy, bustled into the elevator, dragging about eight different cases and hat boxes with her.

"You," she said, snapping her fingers at Jesper, "take these up to my room - number 754b." The woman turned to Y/N. "Be a dear and take these."

Before Y/N could protest, a black, leather briefcase was pushed into her arms as Jesper was pushed out the door. The elevator operator sighed and began working the elevator up to floor 7.

"I like your dress, ma'am," Y/N said, attempting to break the awkward elevator music.

"Oh, aren't you a dear!" The women cooed. "My husband - Van Halla - bought it for me."

Y/N almost dropped the briefcase.

'What floor is Van Halla staying on?'

'Seventh floor, room 54b, Inej. It's the penthouse and the only room with a skylight.'

'Which is how Inej is getting in. But how are we getting out?'

'Front door, Y/N. If this goes to plan, we'll walk out that hotel through the front door with the watch.'

'And if something goes wrong?'

'Well, then, Jesper, I guess you'd better get acquainted with Hellgate.'

The elevator trundled up to the seventh floor and Y/N traipsed after the woman - who was, apparently, Van Halla's wife - to the penthouse.

As Y/N stepped into the penthouse, one thing went through her mind.

Money does not buy you taste.

And that was coming from someone who lived in the Slat which was, to be fair, held up by sheer terror at what Kaz may do should it collapse.

"Just leave the bags in the bedroom, darling," the woman called, waving a hand to the right.

Y/N hovered awkwardly for a moment, trying to work out where exactly in the cavernous, garishly white and orange room she was pointing to. Eventually, Y/N spotted a double door - bright orange like the cushions on the sofa - and assumed that was the bedroom.

She opened the doors and almost dropped the bags.

The 'bedroom' was bigger than her room. In fact, it was probably bigger than her room, Jesper's room, Kaz's room and Inej's room combined.

"Damn," Y/N muttered, her eyes wide. "What it is to have money, huh?"

Y/N dumped the bags on the floor near the wardrobe and turned to go when a small, black velvet box sat on a table. She paused.

"Do you want me to unpack the bags, ma'am?" Y/N called, quietly approaching the table, trying to get a closer look at the engraved plaque on the top of the box.

"No, no, you're fine!"

Y/N stood in front of the table, her heart pounding. Happy birthday, Van Eck was engraved on the top of the box. Y/N reached into her pocket and pulled out an identical box.

'So, we switch the boxes?'

'Thanks to Jesper's hidden talent - no need to roll your eyes, Jesper - we have an exact replica of the watch. Minus a few details, obviously, drawings and sketches only give so much detail.'

'And if we get caught with the watch? Because either way, they'll know something's up.'

'Best not to get caught then, Y/N. However, if for whatever someone isn't at the rendevous, we'll plan something.'

'So reassuring, Kaz.'

'Oh, good, I'm glad, I was concerned I my tone wasn't coming across.'

Y/N glanced out into the main room of the penthouse and quickly switched the boxes, making sure the fake was in the exact same position as the original. She slipped the original into her pocket and stepped out of the bedroom, shutting the door behind her.

"If that's all then, ma'am," Y/N said, bowing to the woman.

"Yes, yes, thank you," she said, nodding.

Y/N headed towards the front door when it swung open and a large man, with a red face and a huge moustache, stormed in.

"Excuse me, sir," Y/N said, pressing herself to the wall as he marched past.

The man barely looked at her - he just sniffed.

"Victoria! Why did you not wait for me?" He called.

"You were busy having a go at some man, darling," the woman - Victoria - replied. "Feel better for yelling?"

"Oh, wife, you know me too well."

Y/N quickly left the room before Van Halla started kissing his wife. They were only some things she could cope with.

With the watch secure in her pocket, Y/N made her way back down to the elevator. She spotted Jesper on her way - struggling with the numerous bags Van Halla had apparently abandoned.

Y/N whistled at him and gestured her head, tapping her wrist. Jesper dropped the bags - Y/N was certain she heard something smash - and jogged up to her side.

"You got it?"

"It was surprisingly easy," Y/N whispered as they headed to the elevator. "It was lying there."

The music in the elevator played joyfully as they rode down - Y/N was trying not to bop to the light plinking piano music.

'So, once we've got the watch. How do we get out?'

'No need to point between you and Jesper, Y/N, I knew who you meant. You two will go out the servant's entrance here and meet Inej and I where the carriages are stored.'

'And if things go to shit?'

'Luckily for you, Jesper, I have plans ranging from A all the way to T.'

'What happens if we get to S? Damn, Kaz, no need to glare at me like that, Saints. You could set me on fire!'

'Shut up, Y/N.'

"Never, boss.'

The servant's entrance was quiet and empty which was a blessing for Jesper and Y/N - especially since Y/N could feel the watch box beginning to metaphorically burn a hole in her coat.

A guard was sat in the chair by the door, intently reading a book. He looked up as they approached and smiled.

"Ah, hello!" He said, standing up. "Right, let's do this quickly, shall we? I'm at a good point in my book. So, you know and I know this but I have to state it again for rules - I have to search you as you come in and out the building since we have numerous Merchants staying here. We don't want anything expensive to get stolen since we can't afford a lawsuit!" He clapped his hands. "So, which one of you wants to get searched first?"

Y/N and Jesper shared a look.

"I'll go first," Y/N volunteered, stepping forward and holding her arms out.

The guard patted her down, humming joyfully as he did so. "Perfect! And you, sir?"

Jesper stepped forward but tripped over the leg of the chair, knocking the chair over and jogging the table and knocking a vase over.

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" Jesper exclaimed, kneeling down to pick up the vase.

"Oh, it's fine, I do it all the time," the guard said, smiling. "Anyhoo."

Jesper set the vase on the table and lifted his arms. "You know, this isn't usually how I like to begin."

The guard looked up at him and raised his eyebrows, smiling. "No?"

"No. I prefer a more intimate setting."

Y/N rolled her eyes and sighed. She cleared her throat pointedly and Jesper winked at the guard, stepping aside.

"Seriously?" Y/N hissed as they walked down the side street to the garage at the back.

"It worked, didn't it?" Jesper replied.

"Oi!"

Jesper turned with a smile on his face, fully expecting it to be the previous guard. Except it wasn't. A sterner looking guard was marching towards them both with a glare in his eyes.

"The idiot back there forgot to ask for your papers," he snapped. "Papers. Now."

'What happens if we need papers to get in and out?'

'I've thought about that.'

'And?'

'Well, best get running. And try to avoid bullets.'

'Why did I expect anything else from you, Kaz?'

Jesper's hand brushed against Y/N's as he stepped forward, communicating silently the plan.

Which consisted of nothing more than run.

"We forgot our papers," YN said smoothly.

The guard raised his eyebrows. "Well, then I can't let you leave until I've contacted your supervisor. You'll have to come with me."

As the man reached out to grab Y/N's wrist, she grabbed his arm, and using all her strength, flipped him over her back and into the floor.

"Go!" Y/N yelled, shoving Jesper up the hill as she ran down it.

Y/N leapt over the guard and ran down the street, the steep gradient speeding her up. The garage was at the other end of the street - up the hill where Jesper had gone - but Y/N knew the guard would be chasing after her.

For a moment, all Y/N could hear was her pounding heartbeat, her vision bouncing up and down as she ran. And then a gunshot cracked out.

Y/N stumbled forward and then darted to the right, hiding in a bush in someone's garden as she panted. She kept quiet as she heard the guard stop right in front of her bush. Y/N didn't allow herself to relax until the guard swore loudly and jogged back up the hill.

Y/N leant her head back against the wall behind her and felt tears well in her eyes as she pressed a hand to her stomach. The bullet had gone through her back and out through her stomach. There was so much blood and the pain was overwhelming - almost blinding.

But, Y/N forced herself out of the bush and to her feet. There was a back alley with a set of stairs leading up to the garage - a very steep set of stairs, mind.

Step by step, Y/N climbed up the stairs, tightly holding onto the handrail as she climbed. Thankfully, the row of expensive-looking carriages was at the top of the stairs and Y/N's knees nearly buckled with relief when she saw the familiar slim shape of Inej.

"Inej," Y/N gasped, falling forwards onto her knees.

Inej ran over to Y/N, her feet silent on the cobbles. She knelt down next to her and held Y/N up with a hand on her uninjured side. "What happened?"

"Oh, turns out we need papers to get out," Y/N grunted, hissing with pain as Inej pressed a black handkerchief - that looked suspiciously like the one Kaz carried - against her front wound.

"Where's Jesper?"

"No idea. Where's Kaz?"

"No idea."

"Excellent, at least we're on the same - ow - page," Y/N inhaled sharply, her hand flying to grab Inej's arm as a wave of pain tossed her into a rock. "Saints."

"It went straight through, thankfully, so I think if we stitch it when we get back and keep it clean -"

"I'll live to get shot another day?" Y/N quipped, smiling despite the sheer amount of pain she was in. "I hope one of them appears with a carriage soon."

Inej kept a steady hand on Y/N's side, keeping her propped up on her knees as she tied a scarf around her waist, covering both wounds.

"Thank you," Y/N said softly, her head resting against Inej's shoulder.

"For what?" Inej asked, frowning. "For saving your life? Again? Because I'd do that even if you'd pissed me off."

A breath of laughter escaped Y/N's lips as she lifted her head. "No. Just for being here. Jesper and I..."

"I know," Inej said quietly. "Does he know?"

"About what? About how I had to watch him fall out a third storey window, not knowing if he was alive or dead? To have to cope with the mental images I have of his broken, bleeding body lying in the streets only to be thrown onto the Reaper's Barge? To know that every time I close my eyes I see Jesper where my sister was? I see Jesper jumping off the roof and plummeting instead of her? I see him staring back at me with glassy eyes and a broken neck and bleeding and -"

"Ok, ok, calm down," Inej shushed, putting a hand on the back of Y/N's head. Y/N sobbed, burying her face into the crook of Inej's neck. She cried for her dead sister, for the fact Jesper was at times an oblivious idiot and for the fact her side really fucking hurt.

"Inej I just keep seeing him lying there," Y/N sobbed. "I know he's fine but I -"

"I know, Y/N, I know," Inej said softly, stroking her hair back. She gently took her face between her hands. "But he is not your sister. Ok? Now, come on we need to get you standing."

Y/N managed to get her feet underneath her and with help from Inej, she was soon standing up - albeit a bit wobbly. Inej kept a hand on Y/N's arm, the physical contact keeping them both going as they waited for Kaz and Jesper.

Not even a minute later, a carriage rolled down the street with Kaz and Jesper in the driver's seat.

"Don't tell Jesper," Y/N said suddenly, panic in her voice.

Inej nodded. "I won't."

Kaz's dark eyes looked Y/N up and down as Jespe halted the horses to a stop. "Trouble?"

"Nothing I couldn't handle," Y/N replied, trying to hide her wince of pain as she tried to stand straighter.

"Inej?"

Y/N rolled her eyes. Kaz had quickly caught on to the fact she often downplayed her pain when injured, so he often asked literally anyone else.

"Through and through - she'll be fine if get back soon," Inej replied.

"Good, on you get."

Y/N climbed inside the carriage, sinking into the velvet green seat with a sigh of relief. Inej hovered by the open door before eventually coming to a decision.

"I'll be up front if you need me," she said softly, knowing that Y/N needed a moment alone.

Y/N had never been so grateful that Inej was her best friend. The carriage doors shut, and with the curtains pulled over the windows, it was blissfully dark. Y/N closed her eyes and relaxed as best she could - she kept a hand tightly pressed over Inej's scarf and her wound.

She didn't realise she'd fallen asleep until someone tapped her knee. Y/N jumped and opened her eyes to Jesper staring at her with eyes full of concern.

"You alright?"

"Mmmhmm."

"Y/N... why are you acting strange?"

"I'm not."

Jesper sat down opposite her as the carriage resumed moving. "You are. Ever since the last job you've been acting weird."

Y/N shrugged. "Sorry."

Jesper frowned. "Is this about the last job? Look, I didn't actually fall out a window for you..."

Jesper's words faded away as Y/N's mind was filled with the memory of Jesper falling. And then it wasn't Jesper it was her sister again. And then it was Inej. And even Kaz. Over and over again they were falling and falling and falling.

"Stop the carriage!"

The carriage had barely stopped before Y/N practically threw herself outside, her side screaming in protest at the sudden movement. She didn't give anyone a second glance as she moved off the open road and down into the hedgerow. There was a small river running through the field near them - one that leads into the Ketterdam canals - and Y/N fell to her knees on the banks of it, plunging her hands into the water.

Stupid, so, so stupid. It had been years since her sister had died and just when Y/N thought she'd moved on, Jesper pushed her back miles and miles.

Y/N leant forward, leaning on her hands as she stared down at the water, her knees getting wet as she knelt in the wet grass. She heard a twig snap and sighed. "I'm fine, Jesper, just leave me alone."

"Flattered that you thought I was Jesper, but alas," Kaz said, standing behind her.

Y/N glanced over her shoulder at Kaz. "Sorry, I'll be back in a minute."

Kaz was silent for a minute. "When the memory overwhelms you, find something to ground you. The feeling of something, the sound of something, even. It helps drown it out."

Y/N nodded, sniffing softly. She grunted as she got to her feet, her hand pressed to her side. A quick glance down and she saw red but not too much. "Sorry."

"Trauma doesn't apologise," Kaz said roughly, turning around and heading back up the hill. "So why should you?"

Y/N chuckled to herself. She spotted Jesper at the top of the hill, pacing nervously as Inej tried to calm him down. It took Y/N only a few seconds to decided what to do.

"Jesper, come here," Y/N called, waving him over.

He jogged over to her and his hands were instantly on her shoulders - almost as if he was holding her together. "I'm sorry -"

"Don't be, Jesper," Y/N said softly. She placed her hand over his and rubbed a circle on the back of his hand. "My sister went insane and jumped off a roof when I was fourteen. When I saw you fall out the window... I saw her. She landed in front of me and I stared at her dead, broken body, unable to comprehend what had happened. So, when you fell... I felt like I was fourteen again. And the fact you kept joking about it didn't help. It was nothing you did, Jesper. It's my own trauma rearing its head and wanting to take me down again. I just..."

"I understand," Jesper said softly, his eyes gentle and caring as he looked at her. "And I'm sorry."

"No, don't be. Trauma doesn't apologise so why should we?"

Kaz, who was trying not to listen, smirked to himself. He tapped the side of the carriage with the head of his cane. "Come on, lovebirds, we need to move."

Y/N turned back to Jesper and smile, despite her heart aching. "All I ask, Jesper, is if you could maybe carry me back to the carriage because I really hurt right now."

Jesper laughed. "Of course I can, love."