#well-off officers looked pretty fancy no matter the side

[clove-pinks]

Me thinking of this image: "Oh yeah the English Civil War mods vs. rockers" :)

[avvail]

supervillain x their super oblivious civilian lover

original ask submitted by @save-the-villainous-cat for the ask game!

“Morning, baby,” the civilian yawns wearily as they plod into the kitchen, rubbing their eyes softly. The supervillain turns in a beat, smiles, and then focuses their attention back onto the pans over the stove.

“Good morning, my love,” they answer smoothly, not stopping from flipping over a pancake when they feel arms wrap around their waist and a forehead nuzzle into their back. “Have a good sleep?”

The civilian nods, sighing. “Yeah. I didn’t even feel you come back last night.”

That’s because the supervillain didn’t, but they wouldn’t tell them that, of course. Once the pancake is flipped, they turn and cup their cheeks, kissing their lips softly.

The civilian looks at them and smiles happily, and the supervillain almost wants to drop the breakfast and whisk them right back to bed.

“Another late night at the office?”

The supervillain chuckles, like that’s funny. It is, a little bit. Their lover was too naive for their own good, and the idea that they would be content with an office job was quite amusing.

“Unfortuantly,” they simply respond, and the civilian huffs, like they’re offended themselves.

“They can’t keep doing that, you know,” they pout, eyes fluttering slightly when the supervillain brushes some hair from their face. “Can’t you complain so I get to spend more time with you? You’re always so busy.”

They peel away, reluctantly, and the supervillain sees the playful pout on their lips, smiling to themselves.

“The overtime is criminal,” the supervillain smirks, and the civilian laughs, shuffling away.

“You’re funny.”

The supervillain turns back to the stove, checking on the pancakes. They have some bacon and egg on the go, simply because they feel the need to spoil their lover like there was no tomorrow. They were theirs, after all, all their obliviousness aside. They just didn’t know it.

The civilian hums softly to themselves as they set the table and pour some drinks, and the supervillain relaxes into the tune. It makes them work more efficiently, until they’re dishing up, and letting their eyes linger on their pretty lover easily.

“Wanna eat and watch TV?” The civilian asks, an eager glimmer in their eye. “Unless you have to rush...”

The supervillain was their own boss – it didn’t really matter to them, not when the civilian didn’t even notice their lackluster “office hours”. They kiss their head, herding them into the lounge.

“Go on, then,” they smile, handing them their plate and watching them get comfortable on the couch with a little smile. The supervillain joins them, and they attatch themselves to their side like glue, but the supervillain doesn’t mind. They eat their fill of bacon and an omelette, while their civilian shovels added pancakes into their mouth as well.

Sometime during a programme, the supervillain’s phone rings. The civilian’s head lifts in curiosity, and they answer it. It’s work related, but they don’t leave the room, letting their hand gently card through their lovers hair as a distraction. Not that they needed it.

“Uh huh, and that’ll be ready to use by tomorrow, will it?” They absentmindedly question, their annoyance piqued by the delay of their supplies. “Just don’t fuck up the encryption. It’s sensitive, one wrong move and it’ll be your head, do you understand?”

They end the call, and the civilian shifts, glancing at them with an amused smirk. “Encryptions? Sounds fancy.”

The supervillain laughs. Not because it was funny, but just because the civilian was absolutely clueless. They lean forward, kissing their head, a roaming hand landing on their thigh.

“You know what?” The supervillain drawls. “I think I’ll have today off.”

The civilian frowns softly. “That’s the fifth time in the past two weeks. This is why they’re keeping you late, you know.”

They shut them up with a kiss, and the civilian doesn’t complain. They never do – the supervillain could destroy the city, and their clueless little lover would be by their side every step of the way.

[withonly-sweetheart]

all that money's tempting... gosh. re4 og leon tries to distract you from the one thing you think could solve all your problems. nsfw mentions (duh) below <3

idk if this is like noncon or wtv it doesnt feel like it to me but theres a part where theres a misunderstanding or shit idfk i dont care im just tired and want this OUT of my head please.

<><><><>

it's asking you to grab it, you swear. if money had a voice it would be high-pitched and whiney, whispering foolish promises into your ear. beside you, leon nods at the watch commander as he exits the room, reasons as to why being unknown to you.

your focus is on the money, the wads of cash stacked neatly on the simple brown table. you imagine it wavering under the weight, unworthy of carrying what could quite easily, you argue, fix all life's problems.

"what would you do with a million dollars...?" you ask, at first absentmindedly but then straightening up as the other two in the room toss their stoic gazes to you immediately.

"we never go there, rookie," leon hisses. "too many officers lost that battle."

"but theoretically-"

"no 'theoretically'," the other officer, one of leon's colleagues, spits. "you know better than that."

"she was just-" your training officer attempts to defend.

"you siding with her, kennedy?" the guy raises an eyebrow. "didn't think you were up for that life."

"the life of crime you came from?" leon seethes in reply. "i seem to recall your multiple violations and all the favors you called in." he frowns. "from me."

that shuts the asshole up pretty quickly, and you have to smother a smile as you gaze up, admiration twinkling in your eyes as you stare at his side profile. handsome and sharp. lucky you.

you suppose the only downside to the whole arrangement is the way he switches up, two different people forced to occupy the same body; and you'd rather have the calm one over the shouty one.

the officers' radios go off, the watch commander's voice coming through. he calls in an attempted break in somewhere near our units, and tells someone to respond.

you look between both of them, waiting for someone to make a move. leon crosses his arms and huffs, leaning back against the supporting column. the other officer rolls his eyes and grumbles something under his breath as he approaches the door.

"what was that?" leon calls out, sarcastically, if anything.

the only response he gets is the loud slam of the door, frightening some poor bird perched on the birdhouse stuck to the window. it doesn't flutter back, no matter how hard you stare.

"well?" you divert your gaze back to the money, at first, then to the man standing next to you.

"hm?" you ask, slightly in a daze.

"you asked what i would do with that money, but what would you?" leon scoffs. "after all, it's not like you to ask without a motive."

"does everything require a motive, officer kennedy?" you ask, teasingly, tantalizing his mind. he narrows his eyes.

"i asked a question, rookie."

a dreamy sigh falls past your lips. not the reply he was expecting. "i would pay off all that student debt, and buy myself a nice house. ooh, and a fancy sports car!"

leon snorts to this, and you turn to him with accusing eyes. "what?"

"i'm just saying, you've got a lot to live through if that's all you're hoping for."

"what part of paying off debt is useless?" you demand.

"i never said anything was useless." he shrugs.

you grit your teeth and turn away from him, but your eyes are once again drawn back to the money. you take a step closer, fingers itching to just pocket a few rolls, wondering if anyone will notice.

leon's arm acts as a bar across your waist, covered in black tactical gear, and his rifle slips from his other hand. the sound snaps you out of your trance, and you turn to glare at him.

"i wasn't going to take anything," you protest.

the corner of leon's mouth turns up. "oh, really? try fooling me twice, sweetheart. i know the look of a hungry woman when i see one."

"i'm not... hungry?" you tilt your head, confused by the metaphor.

"never mind. i think i'd retire early, if i had all that just saved in the bank. why spend my years wasting away, like i did in my youth?" he chuckles fondly, as if those years were millennia ago.

"you're barely forty," you deadpan. "you're not that old."

"compared to you?" leon's arm hasn't left its position, if anything pressing harder down onto your waist, forcing you back. there's a conflicted storm swirling in his eyes, unchecked by you. "i think i am."

"right... what are you doing?" you whisper.

"i see those eyes," he mumbles. "you can't stop thinking about it, can you?"

"the money? no, leon, gosh, i swear i wouldn't-"

"wouldn't you?" his voice is his own harsh whisper in your ear, backed against the table, the empty one that has no expectations except dreading what comes next, because what happens?

in the carefully planned sequence of your life, all the events that you'd prepared for, this is NOT one of them. never was supposed to be. and so because you've never studied anything like this, you freeze up.

leon feels you tense underneath him. "what's... wrong?"

"can you... uhm... get off me?" you say, voice squeaky. "please?"

"oh." leon blinks down at you, and the second time something seems to register because he clambers off, dusting his pants as a filler motion, trying to make the atmosphere casual. "s-sorry."

"n-no, you're fine," you say, reassuringly, but your voice is wavering. not out of fear, out of adrenaline. your body was preparing, it seems. it wants this. you want this, and you might've just ruined it.

you also never imagined anything happening here, in this drug dealer's home, where anyone could burst through the door at any given moment, but he's gotten enough blood rushing to your head that you can't stop the force of events that come tumbling next.

there's a whole list of words you have to describe him now, and they all fall past your lips as his fingers creep further down, duty long forgotten. you suppose that's the whole reason he's doing this.

for you, all for you, to distract you from ruining your life thinking you're going to fix it, when you'll only make things worse. besides, the desire for him is stronger than the desire for a nice life.

a life with him would be nice, you think, absently.

"oh, would it now?" he muses against your neck, damn fingers never moving any lower than they are, pressed taut from the force of your pants, against the lower skin of your stomach. "you wanna be mine forever?"

god, yes, you think, and this time you make sure it's just a thought. the last thing you need is for his inflated ego to get ahead of him.

"he was being so mean to you, baby," he whispers, and it takes you a moment to clear the cloudy thoughts and realize he's talking about the other officer. "never liked him anyway."

you nod your head for lack of a better response, immediately leaning back as soon as leon's other palm flattens against your inner thigh, sparking up your spine.

"you like that?" he says, low and breathy, just for you to hear. "what if someone was to come in, hm? what then? they see you all spread out like this, almost about to cum on my fingers?"

"yeah," you whine, and for the first time in a long time, you're really not ashamed of the sounds he elicits from you. usually sounds of dissent, now pleas for more. "need it, please."

you wait for his acceptance, for him to push you over the edge, just like he does every day out on patrol, except this time you know you'll like it. but it never comes, and you crack open an eye, panting.

leon blinks, and you swear that if he was a dog his ears would be twitching, because within a second he yanks his hand away, covering your arousal with his other hand, and you're confused for a moment.

you sit on the table as he stands to attention, facing the door. you don't realize why until the entire squad storms through, rifles aimed at the ready.

the watch commander raises a fist and everyone lowers their guns. "the neighbors reported loud noises and disturbing sounds. did you happen to hear anything?"

"... no sir." leon says, shaking his head in such an affirmative way that you can't help but copy his actions, bobbing your head up and down with a bright smile.

"we didn't hear anything," you add. "must've been a raccoon or something."

sergeant's eyes flick between you two, narrowing in suspicion. "of course. a raccoon."

"what else could it be?" leon says with a shrug.

"i have my suspicions." with that, he turns on his heel. and you think you're in the clear, about to let out a sigh of relief, when he jerks back.

"is something the matter, sergeant?" you ask sweetly. but his eyes aren't on you, thankfully. your heart plummets when you track his gaze to his true target.

"officer kennedy." there's an undeniable hint of irritation that is quickly overshadowed by the authority in his stance as he slowly turns around, eyes flitting to his waist.

"yes, sir?" leon's damn good at acting, but you're sure no musical will get him out of this one.

"what's in your hands?"

series masterlist

[unrefinedmusings]

no outbreak!joel miller x f!reader headcanons

warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, nasty situations, age gaps, dirty talk, strip clubs, threesome, mentions of infidelity, sexually forward behavior?, not proofread very well

a/n: blaming this one on ovulation and listening to hot stuff by donna summer on repeat. only one of the scenarios is told in second perspective, but feel free to think of all of them as you.

currently obsessing over a joel miller slut era

the outbreak never happened and sarah is off at college. being a father has been his greatest joy. he would not trade a second of his time with sarah for a more rebellious youth. but when joel is almost 45 and living in an empty house, he gets lonely. and bored. that's when he starts to notice. the fleeting glances. the overt stares. he never realized how much attention he got. so he lets his dick do the thinking for a while. who could blame him? people were throwing themselves at his feet. who could blame them?

some standout moments:

while shopping for a birthday present for sarah, joel walks into a boutique at the mall. it's a small store and a slow day. the girl at the counter perks up at the sight of him. she's not subtle, nearly salivating when he walks over to ask for help. she touches him way more than what is appropriate while giving an opinion on earrings. all he does is lick his lips in her direction before she's locking the front door and turning the shop sign to closed. he drags her into a changing room despite her suggestion of the back office. joel doesn't mind the size of the stall when it means he can watch her face while he pounds her from behind. when he finishes, he kneels to make her finish one more time on his tongue. "make sure to watch yourself, honey. look so pretty when you cum."

joel miller is neither stupid nor cruel enough to get involved in someone else's marriage...but that doesn't mean he can't have some fun. since entering the business, he's found that every bored housewife loves to flirt with the contractor. now he just lets himself flirt back. watch their cheeks flush when he winks across the room. see them turn their weddings rings around, as if not seeing a diamond will make him forget their husbands hired him. it gives him an ego boost knowing they'll think of him in their marital beds that night.

hank, one of the younger guys on his crew, is engaged and invites joel to his bachelor party. tommy insists he go, at the least so as to not come off as an unfriendly boss. the strip club is loud, and his beer is overpriced and watered down. none of that matters when he sees the little devil come out on stage. she's wearing a lacy red corset that's pried open, letting her tits bounce free. he palms his cock under the table when she spreads her legs wide for the audience, and chuckles when her horns don't fall off even when she's upside down. joel had always been impressed by the fancy spins and twirls, but what he loved most was watching a woman make love to the pole. she's gyrating against it like a cat in heat, even turning around and letting the smooth metal slide between her asscheeks. she saunters over after her show, slides into his lap and offers him a dance in a private room. the horns fall off while she's bouncing on his cock, chasing her orgasm as his fingers work her clit.

the one he should probably feel the worst about it is the least his fault. those girls were so eager. they zeroed in on him before he realized. joel wanted to get a beer after work, the two seniors from Texas A&M wanted to sow their wild oats. joel knew they were a little too young for him, but they insisted since neither had been with an older man or had a threesome before. both girls sidled up on either side of him at the bar, each slipping a hand onto his thighs. he can't feel that bad when he remembers what having two pretty young things kissing on his cock was like. what it was like lying in his bed, one on his cock and one sitting on his face. hard to feel bad about that.

his favorite occasion is the night he meets you. it's late. he's had an awful day. two guys on his crew called in sick and he had no time to eat. he stops at an old school drive in for a couple burgers. in his side mirror he sees you, sees your uniform: cropped white tee, short black skirt, and, oh fuck him, rollerskates. your tits jiggle as you come to a stop by the driver's side window of his truck. you catch him staring. he can't muster the energy to be inconspicuous. joel's gaze lifts to meet yours and sees the flirtatious smile you've got on. leaning against the door, you ask to take his order. "I'll get two burgers, some fries, and two shakes if you've got time, sweetheart. Only one if you got somewhere else to be." You take your break in his back seat sipping on a vanilla shake with his head between your legs. After you cum, he lifts your shirt up and jacks off on your tits. He makes sure to grab the panties hooked on your skates and tuck them into his jeans. When you ask for them back, he spanks your ass. "I'm coming back for another pair. When's your next shift?"

💕💕💕💕💕

Thanks for reading!

[corpsebasil]

Shapeshifter Part 2

Part 1

Y/N, as it turned out, had more energy than almost all of Nikolai’s crew. Mal batted her away when she transformed into a cat, leaping onto his back as he walked across the ship towards the rail of it. Nikolai watched in amusement, allowing her to perch on his shoulder when another quick flash turned her into a small, white and grey hawk. She pecked him lightly on the side of his head before settling in, already having had decided that the prince was her favorite person on this ship.

“We should discuss the plan,” Mal said, eyeing the hawk in annoyance. She’d been terrorizing him all day, first as a rat sitting on his chest when he woke up, causing him to fall out of his hammock in shock, then as a snake that wound around his neck while he was trying to eat breakfast.

Everyone else seemed to find it infinitely funny, Y/N most of all, but Nikolai had been hoping to see her real face at some point that day. He couldn’t stop thinking about her last night—could hardly sleep as his mind drifted back to that white wolf form of hers and her strange power.

“When we sail in, we’ll take a group and attack together. Alina should be the one to kill it, but if it’s too vicious, it might not matter who ends the creatures life.” Nikolai said, pointing out at the eerie looking island in the distance. Was it his imagination, or did the hawk on his shoulder seem to burrow closer into his neck? “I hope you like fancy weapons, tracker friend.”

“What about her?” Mal asked, gesturing to Y/N. She snapped her beak at his outstretched fingers with a sassy click. “There’s got to be a way for her to help.”

“I’m not going to risk her life unless she offers it.” Nikolai argued, giving the shifter a glance. Mal mumbled something incoherent and strode away, headed to Tolya and Tamar to discuss the plan. Nikolai’s voice softened when he spoke, his eyes pinned on the distant island. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. This is going to be dangerous, and I’d rather not have the last shifter in the world die on my watch.”

The hawk seemed to ponder his words and then flew off, ducking inside the door of his office. When she emerged, sipping a glass of water with his shirt back on, she walked over to him barefoot, already staring out at the horizon as well.

“I might not be the last one.” She offered, tilting her pretty head at him. “But I’m definitely not letting you go alone.”

“You’d be safer here.”

“I can protect you, princeling.”

He rolled his eyes but smirked, glancing away from her. When he spoke again his tone was serious, tension crossing his shoulders.

“Hell of a way to die, though.” He said, casting her a sidelong glance. “A sea whip. Saints save us.”

“What does it look like?” She asked, and he tugged a sketching of the monster out of his jacket. When she saw it, her face paled. It looked like…and those teeth.. “No.” She scoffed. “You’re not going to fight that thing.”

“And why not?”

“Risking my chances of marrying a pirate prince? Very selfish of you.”

Nikolai grinned when she knocked her shoulder against his, her smile purely feline. But his expression sobered, and he gave her a questioning look.

“You’re coming with us, then?”

“No.” She said simply, her expression suddenly grave, and cast a look over to Alina and Mal. They had been her only companions for the past few days, and though she enjoyed annoying the hell out of them, they were also the only friends that understood what having power was like, what being feared was like, that she’d had in a while. “I’m not going with you. Because you aren’t going.”

The prince had all of five seconds to register her words before the girl hoisted herself over the rail and dropped into the ocean, disappearing completely under the waves. Nikolai shouted as Mal and his crewmates sprinted over, gasping in shock at the shifter that had just leaped over the side of the boat.

“Where the hell is she going?” Mal demanded, glaring at Nikolai like it was his fault. “I thought she was scouting not—”

He didn’t get to finish his sentence.

Not when a beast, so similar to the sea-whip and just as terrifying, flew out of the water and arced over the ship. Nikolai gaped up at it, it’s gigantic, menacing size, before it crashed down into the sea on the opposite side, spraying them with saltwater.

“Saints,” Alina gasped, watching as the beast’s body rippled just under the surface, swimming at a rapid clip towards the sea-whip’s caves. “She’s going to get herself killed. She’s been shifting all morning.”

“Can this ship move any faster?” Mal demanded, face paling, and Nikolai nodded mutely before rushing towards the wheel.

***

It took them five minutes to reach the entrance to the caves. Five minutes. And waiting there, on the beach, was…was…

“Y/N!” Mal shouted, tossing himself off the side of the ship and swimming towards her. Nikolai cursed to high heavens before he followed, Toyla complaining behind him that no one exited the ship in the civilized way, before going after his captain.

A monster lay on the beach. Huge, daunting, teeth gleaming in the sunlight. It was dead, huge bite marks gouged into its neck, and Nikolai shuddered as they approached.

“Where’s Y/N?” He searched around, the shifter no where in sight, when Alina suddenly shrieked. Nikolai jolted forward, running to the Sun Summoner’s side, then froze, ice filling his veins at the sight before him.

Y/N lay unconscious on the ground, every inch of her body exposed, with a deadly looking wound on her left leg. From thigh to knee the flesh was ripped, teeth marks marring her flawless skin. Blood pumped horrifically fast from the wound and all Nikolai could do was stare, gaping, down at the shifter who had risked her life for his entire crew.

She had killed it, had done the task for them, but it may very well have dragged her right after it into the underworld.

“Fucking move.” Mal cursed, knocking the prince out of the way. He tugged his shirt off and wrapped it as tight as he could around the injury, only for blood to soak the fabric in a mere second. Then he bundled her up in his coat and lifted her, holding the girl tight against his chest as he moved back towards the ship.

And Nikolai only gaped after them, his head reeling, the tang of blood in the air hot and heavy in his nose.

***

Y/N woke up from the worst nightmare of her life, only to enter a worse one when she opened her eyes.

She’d never been in so much agony. Had never shifted into something so big before; she had never been so reckless. And for strangers.

Truthfully, she was tired of a meaningless existence. Of stealing scraps of food from strangers, of being on the run, of spying or sneaking around or working for criminals that took advantage of her gifts. She wanted to mean something, so she wanted to protect her new friends.

And she wondered briefly if she might have actually died and this was what hell was like.

“Y/N.” A male voice said, groggy with sleep, and she tried to sit up. But a gasp of pain make her vision blur; fire seemed to burn down every inch of her skin, and her leg—she was terrified to look. ��Hold on, just—just hold on.”

It was Nikolai, and a moment later, after some shuffling, she felt a prick of pain in her leg that made her cry out. She smacked at him, damn the agony the movement caused, but after a couple of heartbeats a sense of calm washed over her and the pain eased.

She groaned and laid back again, closing her eyes to welcome the bliss of a break from the torture. Nikolai moved close and scanned her face, setting down the injection he’d given her on his side-table. Sunlight leaked in through the windows of his bedroom. How long had it been?

“Do you need help sitting up?” He offered, and she nodded, allowing him to put an arm around her and prop her up on the pillows. She was shivering, damp with sweat, and she knew she had a fever. “You’ve been out for three days.” He said, his voice quiet and tight, and she gave him an incredulous look.

“How did—” she took in his face, his handsome features warped with pain and fear. “You saved me.”

“You saved us.” His laugh was unamused, and he reached out, resting the back of his hand against her forehead before he filled her water glass. “Why the hell would you do that? You don’t owe us anything.”

She remembered the sea-whip, the way it had roared in challenge. But she had overestimated it’s size, and overpowered the smaller monster easily when she’d tried to replicate the drawing he’d shown her. She snapped it’s neck, but not before it sank it’s rotten teeth into her thigh and almost tore her leg off.

She remembered the agony, the way that she barely made it two steps before she shifted back into her human form, and blacked out.

“I told you,” she laughed softly, taking a sip of water. “I like pirate princes.”

The expression on his face and the heat in his eyes told her he wanted to kiss the hell out of her, but his eyes moved down and he flinched at the sight of her leg. She looked down too, and nearly fainted. Her leg was covered in stitches, large gauge marks that had stayed when she’d shifted back sewn together, her flesh marred and ugly. The bleeding had stopped, but the bruising…the sight of the black thread in her skin…

She barely stifled a sob with her hand before she looked away, trying to focus on anything—anything but the ugly wound that she knew would scar. For the rest of her life, that marred flesh would transfer to any form she shifted to, marking her skin with the proof of her fight with the sea-whip. She was lucky they hadn’t amputated the limb, but she was vain, and was mortified that the prince beside her had seen her in such a destroyed state.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N.” He told her, reaching out to grip her hand. “I owe you my life. I owe you a debt I can never repay.”

She wiped her eyes with her free hand and looked at him, at the prince who she’d sacrificed her life for. He truly was gloriously handsome. And he was kind, she noticed, and he’d done his best to take care of her.

“Just keep the pain-killers and broth coming, prince, and we’re even.”

The relieved smile that crossed his face that she was even able to be playful right now warmed her chest. He stood, moving to grant her request and scrounge up some broth for her, when she called out to him, stopping him at the door.

“And Nikolai?” She asked, voice sweet. He glanced over, raising a brow. “What Im healed, you owe me a date.”

His grin was stunning, and she laughed when he shook his head at her, amused.

“I’ll do more than go on a date with you, sweetheart.” He teased, giving her a searing up down. “I can teach you everything I learned to do to women in the five years since you last saw me.” When her face reddened, he added, “that’s a promise.”

Then he left, and she tucked the blankets under her chin, knowing there was no way in hell she was letting that pirate prince go.

[silverskull]

Shades & Hues

Part 2: Hues of Happiness

Tim and Lucy often have happy kisses, but sad hugs on-screen. What if we flipped that idea and wrote a two-shot?

* She’s in his arms, wrapping herself against him tightly, and he pulls her close, dipping his nose into her hair. He can smell exhaust, and cigarette smoke, and the unfamiliar shampoo from the apartment she shared with her mark, but it’s her - it’s her - and she’s here, with him, and he can feel her ribs below his fingers, her eyelashes fluttering against his neck, and nothing else in the world matters.

(Full fic below the cut, or click here to read and bookmark on AO3)

“Lopez is my plus one.”

“I asked her first!”

“I asked her nicer!”

“So what does that make me?”

“Minus one.”

Lopez and Harper grin and chortle - yes, chortle - clinking their champagne glasses giddily together over the fancy linen tablecloth. They’re dressed to kill, Angela in a flowing white pantsuit, Nyla in an unexpectedly pretty pink cocktail dress, and they’re determined to make the most of the free bar while it’s still available.

Grey gives an amused snort at Tim’s other elbow, shaking his head at the detectives and slicing into his seared steak. Tim grimaces, poking his fork at a lump of potato stuck to the side of his plate.

“You’re just gonna let your minions disparage a senior officer like that?” he asks, knowing before even finishing the question that Grey has absolutely no intention of siding with him.

“They’re free agents tonight, Sergeant,” Grey chuckles. “They’ve earned their place here. You only got a seat at the table-”

“Because you slept your way to the top!” Angela interrupts, with a wild toss of her head. Tim feels his jaw drop open, aghast, and his fork clatters loudly against his plate before falling clumsily into his lap, spattering potato everywhere. Nyla finds this particularly amusing and she cackles loudly, throwing her head back and leaning against Angela for support. Tim scowls, swiping her napkin and dusting himself off irritably.

He wasn’t one to shy away from a celebratory night out. He quite enjoys the opportunity to dress smart and eat well, particularly when the company is good. He remembers Lucy quizzing him relentlessly after his first date with Rachel at Ravenna. She’d started with some circumspection, commenting on the reviews page in the newspaper he’d been browsing, or spending hours in the shop talking her way through an imaginary buffet for herself and Jackson, that just so happened to have all the same dishes as Ravenna. He’d let her ramble on, knowing full-well that it was driving her crazy, until she eventually broke down and asked him outright.

“How in the hell did you know so much about a restaurant with two Michelin stars? What are you? Some sort of moonlighting food critic?!”

“You sound surprised.” His smile was smug, and he knew she knew it.

“No! Well… yes.” She jostled in her seat, fiddling with her seatbelt. “You just never seemed like the type who likes…” She trailed off, pursing her lips thoughtfully. It irritated him.

“Likes what? Good food?”

“No! I know you like good food. A guy who likes…” She paused again, following the track of a delivery bike as it swooped past them at the traffic lights.

“Likes what? Spit it out, boot!” He thumped the steering wheel for emphasis, glaring at her as the lights changed and the cars in front of them rumbled back into life.

“Likes culture, I guess,” Lucy finished, with a shrug. “The finer things in life. You… you still surprise me.” She turned to appraise him, her lips tugging down at the corners as she fought a losing battle against a smile and as the shop moved forward, a beam of sunlight caught her eyes, turning her irises from dark honey into molten amber. He looked away quickly, clearing his throat.

“Yeah, well, I’’ve got layers.”

“Like an onion?” she smirked.

“Like an ogre,” he growled, pressing a little too hard on the gas pedal.

She settled back into her seat, readjusting her belt and tipping her chin up. “Well I think that underneath all those layers, you’re just a big softie.”

He’d added dumbbells to the bottom of their warbags before she arrived the next morning.

“Oh lighten up, Timothy, it was only a joke!” Angela waves her napkin at him across Nyla’s lap, snapping him out of his reverie. Harper plucks her own napkin back daintily, scrutinising him thoughtfully.

“You should be honoured to be here at all. These awards are for people who do actual police work, not just smashing down doors and waving ‘round riot shields,” she says, spreading her napkin neatly back over the pleats in her dress. “If it wasn’t for Chen, this table would be exclusively diligent detectives and top brass-” she gives Grey a solemn nod, “-and you’d be on door security with Nolan and the rookies.”

The aforementioned Nolan picks that very moment to catch Tim’s eye from his station at the entryway, waving cheerily and completely ignoring an influx of inebriated off-duty cops heading towards the bar. Juarez, at least, gives them a stern glare, but she’s almost a foot shorter than all of them and hidden in the shadows cast by the elaborate lighting. Tim scowls, turning back to his plate and tossing his cutlery into the middle of the potatoes.

It’s over an hour later when the speeches begin, and Tim can feel himself slowly begin to petrify into his seat, his legs restless and antsy, and his hands tingling from repeated applause. Harper had raved about this ceremony, swirling her embossed invitation around in the bullpen, and noting that only the crème de la crème of Law Enforcement ever got invited to it.

The California Law Enforcement Agency Gala Awards. What an atrocious mouthful. 

Apparently Harper had attended before, nominated for her UC work in years gone by, but she’d lost out to a Detective Fry, who, in turn, had gone on to all but run the Undercover school in Sacramento. Harper held no ill-will, instead lauding the merits of a night of great company, fine food and - best of all - a free bar, paid for by the agencies themselves. Previous nominees were sometimes honoured with invites, and Harper had been drawn this year, and she preened smugly around the station for the entire afternoon after opening her mail. 

He’d seen her invite so many times during the day that, upon arriving home that night and opening the mailbox, he immediately recognised the thick card and gold embossing on the envelope he pulled from within. It was dark out, and he’d had to unlock the door and find the light switch while Kojo tangled himself around his ankles enthusiastically, but he was soon able to see it clearly. He’d turned the envelope over in his hands, tracing the golden bear above the seal, the name imprinted in dark ink along the front.

Detective Lucy Chen

The next day at work, Harper nearly exploded with pride when he showed it to her. She’d set about calling contacts and negotiating deals to try to extract Lucy from her op ASAP, and even succeeded in securing them a video call that very evening. Lucy was pleased with the news; amused at Harper’s enthusiasm and proud of her own work too, but mostly she was happy to see him. To see Tim. She’d eventually persuaded Harper to let them speak alone, and he plugged a pair of headphones into the screen, letting the music of her voice wash over him while he drank in her face.

She’d already been awarded the highest marks in the LAPD for her Detective’s exam (he’d promised her he wouldn’t take revenge on Prim, once she’d let him in on her secret; but it didn’t stop him from wishing for the guy to stand behind the wrong door one day, and get smashed right in the face) and now she was up against nominees from agencies across the state. Officers just as clever, hardworking and brilliant as herself.

Tim, of course, thought there was no need for all the fuss, and said they should just give her the prize directly, no questions asked. Grey and Harper stepped in quickly, reminding him that the fact that the awards were being held in LA meant more of her colleagues would be present to cheer for her. As if to drive home the point, Nolan signed himself and Juarez up for security duty the moment the requisition went out, and Thorsen traded Smitty a crate of ridiculously expensive IPA to take his place when the list had filled. Grey got invited as station Sergeant, and Harper latched onto Lopez as her plus one.

Which left Tim, miserably waiting to hear back from Lucy for days on end.

And, in the end, she’d found no way out. Nyla reminded him, half-heartedly, about ‘dope time’, and Lucy ruefully highlighted that it wouldn’t be a good look to drop an op in order to attend an awards show. He’d initially chosen to decline the event altogether, but then a request came down from the Captain, and subsequently the Chief of Police, that all nominees needed to either attend in-person or assign a representative, and, as her partner, Tim would have to show up for Lucy.

Which was how he had ended up here, now, listening to the same Chief of Police drone on about the challenges of modern policing, the responsibility to be seen as fair representatives of the justice system, and the bright future ahead for police agencies, with such an outstanding bunch of nominees in their presence tonight. The woman wouldn’t be winning any prizes herself, for speech-making at least.

“And, at last, what you’ve all been waiting to hear. May I present to you, from across the entire state of California, the ten nominees for this year’s CLEA Exhibition Award!”

Raucous applause breaks out across the room - the bar has been open for over four hours at this stage - and Angela elbows her neighbour (a young officer who’d travelled all the way from Eureka, and was desperately seeking Lopez’s approval) to imitate her sharp wolf whistle. Eventually, they quieten down enough for the Chief to begin calling out the names, but she’s only on the second one when the room bursts into noisy cheering again.

It’s Lucy’s name - Detective Lucy Chen - and her colleagues from the station are spread all across the room, clapping and whistling loudly the moment she’s mentioned. Tim feels the warm glow of pride, and he allows himself a moment to smile fondly at her photograph when it appears on the screen at the back of the stage. He stays looking at it as the rest of the names are called out, basking in her warm smile - one cheek dimpling in shy amusement at the photographer, a small strand of hair drifting across the other - and he wishes with all his heart that she was actually here. With him. Hiding her face in his shoulder at all the attention, or steadying his anxious foot-tapping with a soft hand on his knee.

“And, of course, though there can only be one winner, I want to be clear that the contributions of all ten nominees is valued, honoured, and will be upheld up as a standard of achievement for the Force for years to come.” Chief Coleman was stacking away the last of her note cards, tapping them firmly against the wooden surface of the podium, and grimacing quickly against the spotlight into the depths of the room. “I also want to note that neither Detective Abdul nor Detective Chen could be with us tonight, due to work commitments. In their stead, we welcome their husbands, Doctor Karim Abdul and Sergeant Tim Bradford.”

Lopez and Harper pitch immediately in opposite directions, cackling madly, and Tim feels a hot blush rise along his neck as his colleagues in the shadows whoop and hoot merrily. Grey gives him a smug side-eye, but says nothing, and Tim rolls his shoulders back, picturing in his mind’s eye the little velvet box buried behind a loose board in the back of a dresser at Genny’s house, that not even his sister knows about. 

They’ll all find out, when the time is right - he’s sure. But he’s still waiting for that moment.

Waiting for Lucy.

“And the Exhibition Award for exemplary achievement in California’s Law Enforcement Agencies for this year goes to…” The Chief pauses to break the seal on the envelope in her hands, and Lopez, aided by her new minion from Eureka, begins a drumroll on the edge of the table. Tim’s eyes are fixed on the screen, but he notices, in his periphery, Thorsen enthusiastically joining in, slapping his hands against the wall behind him and grinning from ear to ear. Despite himself, he feels a thrill of nerves; a rush of anticipation.

The Chief pulls out the card, and her lips quirk into an amused smile. “Detective Lucy Chen!”

The room erupts in applause and cheers, even the tables of guests from out of town giving in to the excitement of having a local winner. Tim feels hands patting his back, his shoulders - someone even dares to ruffle the back of his hair. He’s not surprised - of course she’s won, of course she has! - but in the commotion he nearly forgets that he has a job to do. Grey and Harper think for him, practically lifting him out of his seat by the elbows and propelling him across the room towards the stage. His feet catch on the legs of someone’s chair and he stumbles, taking a moment to apologise and straighten his tie before swallowing his pride and heading for the podium.

The path through the crowd seems endless, but eventually he trots up the steps to the stage, where Coleman shakes his hand firmly, her face serious and her eyes dark.

“We’re extremely proud of Lucy,” she says, gripping his hand tightly. “She’s a remarkable woman.”

He can’t help a quick smile. “I know.”

And then he’s on his own, staring into the blinding glare of the spotlight and almost forgetting the single notecard in his breast pocket. He reaches in to pull it out, feeling the sweat on his palms sticking to the paper, and he recognises Angela’s shrill whistle from the hidden sea of people before him. He takes it as support, takes courage in it, and begins.

“I can honestly say that on the first day I met Lucy Chen, I never pictured a night like tonight anywhere in our future. She was a hot-shot from the get-go. A woman with no quit in her. Endlessly aggravating. I even thought at one point it was a personal attack from our Sergeant, him sticking her with me.” He swears he can hear Grey chuckle from the middle of the room. “But Lucy was also kind. Thoughtful. Compassionate. She gave people grace in their hour of need - none more so than me.”

His mind flashes back to any number of moments in their first months together - his shooting, Isabel’s return, Andersen’s death - and he remembers his own dawning realisation that Lucy’s presence wasn’t just some flash-in-the-pan whim of a privileged kid.

“She had potential - real potential - and she was ready and willing to learn from all of us around her how to hone that potential, and become the officer that she is today. And she went through hell…” His voice catches, the fleeting sensation of hot sand under fingernails sweeping over him, and he has to swallow hard against a lump in his throat to keep going. “She went through hell to get to where she is today. The fact that she is still a member of the LAPD, and not only succeeding, but thriving, is a testament to her incredible talent, her skill, her capability, and her enormous heart. I am proud to accept this award on her behalf, and - with the greatest of respect to all the other nominees - I know that there is no-one more deserving.”

The crowd applauds again, and he steps back from the podium, noticing a small shuffle beside the tables at the foot of the stage. Thorsen has somehow wound up near the steps, and he’s apologising to someone as he edges past their chair, shoving them calmly but firmly to one side. Tim wonders why he chose now to start making a nuisance of himself, but he plasters on a smile and gives a quick nod of gratitude to the audience. He turns to thank the Chief too, but her chair is empty and there’s a sudden flurry of action in the wings opposite him. A young man with a headset scurries towards another man at a laptop and whispers hurriedly in his ear, covering the end of the mic with one hand. Tim is immediately on edge, and his smile falls away, his skin prickling into sharp goosebumps.

He’s just about to leave, turning to head for the steps and calculating how quickly he can grab Thorsen’s spare gun, when Coleman appears at his elbow and grips his arm tightly.

“We must take a photo, Sergeant Bradford,” she says, pulling him firmly back towards the centre of the stage and seizing his hand.

“There’s really no need-” he begins, looking around for a way out and catching, instead, the bright pink of Nyla’s cocktail dress at the side of the stage. There’s a dazzling flash - a camera somewhere below them - and he blinks against the stark spots in his eyes, shaking his head to try to clear his vision, and it’s only some remote modicum of ingrained obedience that prevents him from pulling away entirely from the Chief’s grasp and running for cover.

There’s another flash, and he’s suddenly aware of a low murmur running through the audience, a hum of suspicion, but he doesn’t have time to acknowledge it before Chief Coleman drops his hand and leaves him, confused, in the centre of the stage. She walks back to the podium, tipping the microphone briskly back down to her own height, and he checks quickly to the side to see Harper, still in the shadows, and grinning broadly.

“Ladies and gentlemen - colleagues from across the state.” Coleman’s stern voice gets everyone’s attention quickly and the murmur dies down. “It seems we have a small change to the order of events tonight. I’ve just been speaking to one of Detective Chen’s handlers, Detective Harper, and it seems they’ve had a breakthrough in their case. I’m sure you’ll be as delighted as I am - but nowhere near as delighted as Sergeant Bradford - to welcome to the stage…” She turns and smirks at Tim. “Detective Lucy Chen.”

His heart drops at the same moment as his jaw, and he has no time to think before Harper moves to the side and there - right there, in leather and denim - is Lucy. 

His Lucy. 

A little dishevelled and a little uncertain, but smiling with her whole face - her whole heart - and twirling her fingers nervously. Lucy. Chief Coleman urges her forward, and all Tim can hear is the blood rushing through his ears, and his hands reach out for her before she even moves. 

And then, with just a few steps, she’s in his arms, wrapping herself against him tightly, and he pulls her close, dipping his nose into her hair. He can smell exhaust, and cigarette smoke, and the unfamiliar shampoo from the apartment she shared with her mark, but it’s her - it’s her - and she’s here, with him, and he can feel her ribs below his fingers, her eyelashes fluttering against his neck, and nothing else in the world matters. He wants to ask ‘how’ and he wants to know why he was left out of the loop, but all of that can wait. For now, all he needs is her breath against his skin, her pulse hammering away against his chest almost as fast as his own, and the utter contentment that he feels in knowing that she is here, safe, at home, and with him.

It takes him a moment to recall where they are, with his fingers tangling in her hair to draw her head back and his thumb tracing along the sweep of her cheekbone, but then he remembers. He realises the rushing sound in his ears is the applause from the crowd, and he can definitely hear Angela’s piercing whistle taunting him from the floor, but he really can’t bring himself to care. He catches Harper’s eye as she saunters off the stage, and she waggles her hand at him, pointing conspicuously to her ring finger.

“I missed you.”

Lucy’s voice draws him in like soft honey, and he allows himself another moment to indulge in her presence, to soak up the familiar beauty of her face, and the smile she wears just for him. He pulls her into his chest once more, pressing his lips against the crown of her head, and then the Chief is rolling her eyes at them and waving her hand to get them off the stage. He grins, turning Lucy towards the steps and handing her the sparkling award. She lets him direct her, and he has a split second while his back is turned to the crowd to dip his mouth to her ear unobserved.

“Marry me?”

She comes to a dead halt, her eyes locking on his, and he grins, linking their hands and drawing her knuckles to his lips.

The crowd is still cheering, and Coleman is beginning to look a bit peeved, so he tosses her a quick salute and tugs gently on Lucy’s hand. She comes to, wobbling into a faltering walk behind him, before following him down the steps and off the stage. With the spotlights out of his eyes, he can see their friends, their hands raised as they clap for her - for them - and he leads Lucy towards their table, where he can see Nolan and Juarez already standing behind an extra chair.

She doesn’t have to answer him tonight. She doesn’t have to wear the ring he picked. She doesn’t even have to say ‘yes’ - at least, not yet.

But he needs her to know he missed her too.

And he needs her to know he loves her.

And he will always be here, ready to welcome her home.

Always.

AO3 link💖

Back to Part 1!

[mamamittens]

Guide You Home

Sabo X OC

Warnings: Uh, canonical slavery mentions, arson, and kissing.

Hope the wait wasn't too bad for you @sab0ace

Word Count: 2,645

Sabo felt like his skin was going to crawl right off of his body. Being in another fancy manor at a party, smoozing with guests and pretending like this was paradise—it itched. He set his jaw firmly to refrain from cursing out the vapid old man who’d held him in dry, polite conversation for the past fifteen minutes. He hadn’t wanted to approach this mission like this but Koala insisted on a low profile.

His partner was having the time of her life pretending to be as vapid and shallow as a puddle in the desert. Meanwhile, Sabo had nearly set the curtains on fire in a fit of fury at least three times. But he’d play nice. For now.

Everything about this made his head hurt though and he could only imagine what kind of repressed memories he had of places like this.

Sabo wrinkled his nose and looked around the room in boredom.

“Apologies, Sir Barkley, but I need to attend to some… matters.” Sabo excused himself swiftly before heading to the restrooms. Just beyond it was the offices where, with any luck, the papers he needs are in. Once he grabs those he can signal to Koala and they can leave this stifling party.

He barely made it five steps into the lavish office before he heard stomping feet trampling towards his location. Thinking fast, Sabo spotted a low cupboard where the carpet was immaculate���definitely empty and not used often. He crammed himself in without complaint, or at least not vocal complaint, and breathed softly. His back didn’t appreciate the tight quarters but it’d be better than the ringing his ears would receive if he messed up the mission because of carelessness.

The cupboard doors weren’t quite aligned properly, allowing Sabo a slim view into the room as the owner of the estate stormed into the room. Tossing a young lady so hard her side slammed into the desk nearly across the room. She cried out and sank to the floor, clutching her hip as she turned towards the man.

“Useless!” He hissed. “Utterly fucking useless! Not even worth the price I paid for you—you stupid, blind bitch!” He spat as the young woman cried softly, posture curling in shame. Sabo caught a glimpse of a collar around her throat. One of the cheaper ones, not set to explode or anything quite so drastic, but a slave collar nonetheless.

Ah. Sabo’s least favorite type of noble. He should have known. Cheap bastards.

His to-do list for the evening just gained a new objective in lieu of setting the whole place on fire.

The man continued to berate the young woman for some time before he grew hoarse and stormed out in a fit. Locking the door behind him. If the man wasn’t the host and clearly lacking the time to beat the young lady as he wished to, Sabo imagines he’d have to break the mission along with the man’s legs. Luckily, he didn’t need to.

With a sigh of relief that spooked the poor, frazzled young lady, Sabo removed himself from the cupboard.

“Well… he seems pleasant.” Sabo joked lightly, walking over to her side to help her stand. “Are you alright?” She sniffled, wiping at her eyes and brushing back her pale blond hair.

“…yes, sir. I-I’m alright.” Sabo grimaced at the weak, meek voice.

“None of that ‘sir’ nonsense with me, sweetheart. I’m not exactly an esteemed guest here.” Sabo grinned, noting that she seemed frazzled but otherwise unharmed. Her eyes hidden behind a thick fringe of bangs. “I need to pick up some papers, but after that, how do you feel about getting out of here?”

She paused, tipping her head up with a soft, vulnerable expression of hope.

Her hand drifted to the slim collar of cheap metal.

“I-I can’t…” Sabo carefully pulled away her hand and ran his fingers along the delicate column of her throat. Dipping his thumbs between flesh and metal before shattering it with ease. He tossed the metal to the floor with a pleased hum.

“I don’t know… you seem pretty free to me.” Sabo declared teasingly, her hand clutching where the metal used to rest in disbelief. She swallowed hard and smiled in disbelief.

“W-What did you need to get…?” She asked softly, clutching her maid’s dress anxiously.

“Some papers for the RA.” Sabo declared, not worried about ruining the mission in the slightest since he fully intended to take her with him. She perked up.

“Oh! Did you check behind that painting? Lord Minnop had me tend to the squeaky hinges and spent ages talking about the secret papers he kept there.” She piped up helpfully. Sabo snorted.

“Of course he did.” Sabo derided, looking towards the large… painting of the man himself. Somehow, he was disappointed but not surprised. The safe wasn’t even locked.

Ah. His most hated type of noble.

A stupid cheap bastard.

Still, it did mean he wouldn’t be stuck at this party for much longer. Sabo glanced at the ornate windows with the plush, thick curtains and grinned.

“…Ready to bounce, my lady?” Sabo asked with more feeling than he’d had all night, offering his hand with a gentle brush of his fingers along her wrist so she’d know what he was offering.

She beamed, smile lovely and wide.

“Of course!”

Sabo’s chosen signal of the night? Setting that ostentatious office on fire like he’d wanted to do to the ballroom all night.

Koala would get what he meant. She was good like that.

Unfortunately, not even his new lady friend’s presence could save him from the earful he got when Koala managed to leave the party, expensive dress lightly burned.

If he knew that she’d maliciously demand he take vacation time, he would have found a less destructive way to signal to her that he got the papers and it was time to go. It was worth it to give Luna freedom, but still... She’d been trying to settle into a place within the Revolutionary Army, no easy feat for someone totally blind. But her sweet demeanor was quite refreshing within the organization. Given time, Sabo knew she’d find her place.

Dragon stared down at Sabo with a look in his eyes that quietly asked him why he seemed allergic to vacations and not setting places on fire.

Sabo stared back with a look that said he didn’t have the slightest idea what Dragon was implying. Dragon, predictably, didn’t buy it at all.

“A month.” Dragon narrowed his eyes, glaring down at Sabo as the room grew tense.

“A week.” Sabo hissed defiantly.

“Three months.” Sabo’s eyes widened and he gawked.

“No! Absolutely not!” Sabo couldn’t just disappear from the RA for that long!

“I’ll make it six!” Dragon threatened.

“Six! Six!” Sabo threw up his hands. “What do I even do with three!?”

Dragon’s lips quirked in a smirk.

“Relax.” Dragon responded dryly. Sabo shuddered at the thought. “Luna.” Sabo whipped his head towards the door as Luna shuffled in cautiously.

“Yes, Dragon?” She asked with a cute tilt of her head.

“Please accompany Sabo to ensure he actually relaxes on his vacation… four months.” Sabo dismissed the elated feeling in his stomach as he sputtered with indignation.

“Four!? Four!? Dragon!” Sabo whined though he didn’t fight as Luna playfully dragged him out of the room to get ready for his volun-told vacation time.

“C’mon! You heard the boss, Sabo!” Luna declared with a laugh as she shoved him into his room to pack. “Don’t take too long or I’ll get Koala to tie you up and toss you onto the ship with nothing~!” Luna giggled before running off, presumably to pack her own things. Now that she wasn’t dragging him along, it started to crash onto him that he was actually doing this.

Going on vacation with the cute girl he nearly ruined a mission to make smile.

“Ack!” Sabo grimaced, paling as he realized he needed to hurry up before Koala came in and did the honors herself without Luna asking. She absolutely would hog-tie him with nothing to take on this ‘vacation’.

The island where Sabo and Luna were essentially abandoned on for the next four months had all the basic essentials and a small beachfront cabin. If memory served, it usually was meant to help agents lay low after difficult missions or when their undercover missions had been compromised.

The wooded area was populated with local wildlife he would’ve been able to handle in his sleep as a child, so he really didn’t have anything to worry about… just him and Luna alone. For four months.

“So this is where we’re staying, huh? Sounds peaceful.” Luna commented, walking out onto the front porch as Sabo glared at the ship Koala had personally used to dump them here.

“Yeah, sorry you have to look after me—” Sabo choked upon seeing Luna. Pale skin draped in a sheer kimono that swayed around her hips. Soft pink bikini and sandals indicating she intended to spend time on the beach. She was beautiful and Sabo flushed with embarrassment that he was too busy being a sourpuss to realize that this was also her vacation. “S-Sunscreen! Do you need some sunscreen? I’ll get some—and change!” Sabo sputtered, aware of how very overdressed he was still, Luna’s soft laughter following him into the cabin.

Sabo tossed away his clothes and shoved his legs into a pair of swim trunks, plucking the specialty sunscreen for the two of them out of the bag Koala packed. He looked into the food supply to see what they were working with and found it surprisingly packed with good food. Treats and even ice cream stored in the freezer. Sabo picked a pair of popsicles and went outside.

Luna was standing a few feet away from the porch, bare feet digging into the sand as she faced the ocean. Breeze gently ruffling her clothing and hair. She turned towards him as he approached, footsteps noisy in the relative calm.

Sabo smiled as he came to a stop, grabbing her hand to gently deposit the wooden stick between her fingers.

“Here. Something to enjoy while I make sure neither of us burn in the sun.” Sabo said before shoving the blue frozen treat into his mouth before he shoved his foot clear down his throat. Luna hummed and carefully tapped her hand over the blue ice. Once she found the top she started to lick and nibble carefully as Sabo applied lotion onto his hands.

He was respectful and gentle as he rubbed it over her back and shoulders. Her soft skin warm under his slightly chilled hands.

Sabo took out the popsicle.

“Do you want to take care of the rest?” Sabo asked holding up the bottle of sun lotion. Luna smiled and nodded, removing the popsicle to show her blue lips and tongue.

“Thank you, do you need help with your back? I can’t see but I think I can manage that.” Luna offered. Sabo swallowed hard, nearly biting off half his frozen treat as the sun beat down over them.

“S-Sure!” Sabo watched as she briskly applied the lotion over her soft body, his face heating up as his teeth hit the wooden stick at the center with a jarring click. He barely noted that it tasted like cotton candy despite nearly eating the whole thing already.

Luna politely polished off her own treat before biting down onto the stick with a grin, pouring a generous amount of lotion onto her hands and carefully reaching towards him.

Her hands met his chest with cold smears of white as she worked to carefully apply it over his body. His heart thudding against his ribcage as her small hands worked over his physique. He felt hot and like a total freak enjoying her touch as much as he was.

“You know… I’ve been wondering what this place looks like.” Luna commented softly as Sabo dutifully turned around to let her apply more lotion to his back, kneeling slightly to assist in their height differences.

Sabo looked out at the forest and cabin.

“Well, it’s not a very big island. We could probably walk across the whole thing in a day.” Sabo realized that she didn’t have any reference for any of it and felt like an idiot. “The beach is… pale gold. I stretches around the entire island and makes the forest look lush and thick next to it. The sea is really calm right now, deep blue stretching out to meet the bright horizon with barely any waves but what crests the sand… it’s beautiful.” Sabo looked over his shoulder, but his eyes were on Luna. Shaded by the sun that curved around her soft face and wonderous smile. Hidden eyes peaking through blond hair.

“What about you? Are you beautiful?” Luna asked softly, hands curled over his shoulders. Lotion thoroughly applied already but she didn’t remove her hands, merely ran them over his tensed muscles. “You feel… strong. And tall.”

Sabo gave a cocky, crooked grin.

“Well, I’ve heard that I’m handsome.” Sabo teasingly crowed, slowly turning to face Luna, his hands settling on her waist. “I’m not very tan. Maybe just a few shades warmer than the sand. Blond hair and blue eyes… I have a scar on one side of my face. A burn… it doesn’t hurt anymore but it’s still more pink than tan.” Sabo breathed out as she reached up his bare chest and traced his features for herself. Fingertips dragging over his thick neck and sharp jawline. Thumbs sweeping over the outline of his refined nose and cheekbones.

Delicately tracing the ridges of his burn and the shape of his eyes. Teasingly tapping the shell of his ear and brushing back his curly hair as she drifted down his features again. Sabo didn’t even realize he was leaning forward, popsicle sticks dropping into the sand at their feet. Her fingers pressed against his lips, his breath ghosting over her delicate skin as he found himself without breath.

His thoughts screeching to a halt as she tipped up her chin and stood up on her tiptoes. Soft, plush lips brushing over his in a teasing press. The faint taste of sugar chased by a flick of his tongue before she spun away with a laugh, dancing towards the waves with her skin flushed with warmth and sunlight.

Sabo jerked towards her by instinct, palms cold where they had been cradling soft curves.

Sabo grinned, running after her with much more quiet footfalls as her thin legs were splashed in the surf.

She screamed in delight as he picked her up, spinning her around before holding her against his chest. Her legs wrapping around his waist as he held her up with one arm under her ass. The other gently guiding her down for another kiss. Deep and wet, the sweetness on her tongue making his knees give out as he collapsed backwards into the wet sand. Water cresting over her back as she gasped breathlessly.

Sabo parted her lips eagerly, eating up her moan as cold ocean water crashed over them. Thick tongue brushing over hers as he chased the lingering taste of artificial sweetener. It took another cold wave to let her pull back, panting for air as he looked up at her with a strangled laugh.

She was soaked, hair tangling in blond sheets around them as he pushed it back with a grin. Ignoring the cold water tickling his ears as she laughed, leaning down to kiss him again. Her warm body pressed onto his as the water crashed over them again and again. The sensation lost to him in favor of soft skin and sweet lips.

Perhaps four months isn’t long enough to appreciate this…

[skepwith]

Where Is the Revenge’s Toilet?

In ep 1 Stede gives a tour of the Revenge that includes the “en suite,” a small room with a toilet and some kind of bathing bucket. But we’re never shown where on the ship it is, exactly.

Stede of course has a bathroom next to his cabin, but from what we can see it only has a bath, no toilet.

So does this mean Stede uses the en suite along with the crew? Not necessarily! On navy vessels of the period, the officers used toilets in the quarter galleries—the enclosed balconies that stick out on either side of the stern. Presumably this is because of the way they hang out over the water, so the waste can fall straight into the ocean.

Right: “Seat of Ease off the Captain’s Quarters” by Robert G. Hewitt © 2020.

On the Revenge, the port gallery contains Stede’s bed, but there are some spaces around it that could maybe house a toilet. The starboard gallery is a mystery: yes, secret passage, but also maybe toilet(s)?

As for the crew, there’s the time-honoured tradition of just pissing over the rail, but in heavy weather you might lose your balance and fall overboard. By the 1700s ships were built with a pissdale, a basin or trough placed just inside the low walls around the main deck. It acted as a urinal, funnelling the urine off the side of the ship. I can’t say for sure the Revenge has a pissdale, but it seems like something Stede would include. I wouldn’t be surprised if Jim figured out a way to use it too, maybe with an 18th-century P-Mate.

“Pissdale on Deck of Ship” by Robert G. Hewitt © 2020.

But of course this wouldn’t do for, ahem, solid waste. Below is a 1728 diagram of a ship’s toilet, labelled “necessary seat” (14), also called the “seat of ease,” as in the earlier illustration. It’s located in the ship’s head (or beakhead), which is why the word head came to mean toilet, as in “I’m gonna hit the head.”

The deck of the head was also partly open—slatted rather than solid—to let the waves in to rinse everything out, which is why toilets were usually placed just above the water line. Here’s the beakhead of the Swedish warship Vasa from the 1620s, with two box-like toilets. You can see the remains of a seat on the right-hand one.

As for the Revenge, it makes sense to put the en suite in the head, somewhere where the toilet can open directly over the water. Let’s look again:

Left of Pete there’s a vessel with a handle sitting on a small barrel. This could be a scoop and a covered bucket of seawater for “flushing,” i.e., sluicing the inside of the toilet with scoops of water. This only makes sense if there’s somewhere for the waste to go; if the toilet was a stool with a chamber pot inside, you could just rinse it out when you dumped its contents.

Also, look at the right-hand wall. It’s decorated with moulded panelling (carved squares), which seems pretty fancy for a toilet room. Unless it’s a continuation of the fo’c’sle’s front wall.

I was very proud of this theory until I noticed the panels don’t match. Alas.

There’s also a noticeable gap in the toilet room’s right wall. It could just be the door, but my theory is it’s an open gap to make room for the bowsprit higher up the wall (see diagram below).

Another piece of the puzzle is the pattern of light and shadow against the walls. We don’t see any other shadows like it (except in the “ball room,” which is another post). It doesn’t match any of the gratings we’ve seen, which make a crosshatch pattern, nor does it line up with the ship’s railings. Does this matter? Well, look, someone on the film crew had to cut out that shape and stick it in front of a light, or however they do it, to cast that specific shadow, so I’m guessing it points to something.

My first guess was that the light here is shining through the railing around the head, which is a different shape from the ship’s other railings. If the head’s deck isn’t solid—like on historical ships—the light could be coming from behind the railing and shining through the slats.

But…the deck of the Revenge’s head looks pretty solid, as far as I can tell. Still, we haven’t seen the entire deck…

Just leave me my delusions, okay?

So, finally, here is my new improved diagram of the head:

Is it accurate? Who can say. It’s really all headcanon at this point.

(Sorry.)

[coopigeoncoo]

Shouto talks to cats with the most plain voice ever. No baby voice. Just his plain normal voice. Just...

"It not polite to sit on someone's clean counter."

"Dinner will be ready at 5. Please be patient."

"I'm going to need you to move. No, don't crawl onto my lap, I need to start the laundry."

"Most would consider an attempt at smothering someone to be an attempted murder. But you just think it's cute, don't you?"

Absolutely he does. And this, naturally, leads to comical misunderstandings.

Tw: None

Characters: Todoroki Shouto, the Todoroki women, and a fairly unrearkable cat.

Shouto agreed to cat sit for Uraraka while she was suddenly called away overseas- some sort of rescue effort going down in Paraguay that Shouto didn't ask much about.  It didn't really matter, after all.  When you're a Hero you go where they tell you; come when you're called.  

A lot like being a dog, really.

And after spending a few days with Princess Yuki, Uraraka's white and gray tabby, Shouto thinks he'd prefer to be a cat.  

Princess Yuki, so named for her aloof demeanor and dreary patterned coat ("It looks just like the snow we see here in the city, dontcha' think?  All streaked with gray and splotchy?" Ochako had explained once), had immediately made herself at home by scaling his kitchen cabinets; spending her days idly passing judgment on those who dared to pass through her line of sight.  

Never having been able to afford a cat growing up, Ochako spoiled her fuzzy little friend to pieces; dropping off an entire suitcase of toys alongside her very elaborate pet fountain and cooler full of fancy raw cat food.  It seemed like a lot of effort and money to spend on a creature that was more like a decoration than a companion, but Shouto's job wasn't to judge his friends' pets. 

But if it was his job then Bakugou's impossibly round Chinchilla, Chinkilla, would definitely reign supreme.

So it was under these circumstances that Shouto accepted a call from his sister one uneventful Thursday night; Princess Yuki perched on top of her usual cabinet as Shouto stood below, stirring a wok full of beef slices and broccoli.

"Shouto!," Fuyumi greeted cheerily.  "How are you doing today?"

"I'm fine," Shouto began, knowing his sister would press for more details of his day off.  "I went grocery shopping and found a coupon tucked onto a shelf for the brand of soy sauce I was buying.  So that was nice."

"Hero lives are so weird," Fuyumi mused, the gentle shuffling of papers in the background clung Shouto into the fact that she was likely still stuck at work grading papers. "Yesterday you saved an entire building of office workers and today you're excited about finding a coupon."

"Didn't you call me last week to brag about that huge discount you got on your new purse?"

"Yeah, and?"

"That just seems pretty similar to coupon excitement to me," Shouto mused, glaring up at Yuki who had begun to stretch her long body down the front of the cabinet, dangling precariously over the streaming wok.  He lifted the spatula he was stirring with out of the pan and pointed it at the feline in warning. "Don't even think about it."

"Don't think about what?" 

"Oh, sorry.  Not you.  I was talking to Yuki," Shouto explained, glaring at the tabby who was doing her best to look innocent by tilting her head to the side and twitching her ears.

"Yuki?  Have I met her before?" Fuyumi asked, doing a terrible job of disguising her interest.

"You haven't.  She's just staying with me for a couple of days," Shouto said as he deflected her swiping paw from bopping him in the head.  

"Oh!" Fuyumi gasped in delight. "Well, is she cute?"

Shouto looked up at the cat stretched up above him, her wide green eyes shining bright with madness as she gazed longingly at the sizzling beef.  

"Very," Shouto admitted with a reluctant sigh, giving his dinner a quick stir.

"So, how did you two meet?"

"She lives with Uraraka, so she's usually hanging around when I come to visit- stop messing with my hair, Princess!" Shouto hissed as he ducked his head to escape the reach of her attacking paws, using her first name in a bid to summon up some measure of authority. "I'm on the phone!"

"I'll let you go now, Shou," Fuyumi giggled.  "I can tell that you're pretty busy."

"Thanks," Shouto sighed, glaring at Yuki who had decided to jump down onto the top of his fridge to attain a better defensive position.  "Talk to you soon."

Fuyumi doesn't think she'd ever dialed her Mom's phone number so quickly before, including that time Natsuo had been thrown head first off of the trampoline into Rei's prize winning rose bushes.

"Pick up, pick up, pick up," Fuyumi chanted, the large stack of worksheets she was grading long forgotten in the face of a fresh piece of juicy family gossip.

"Hello, Todoroki residence.  Rei speaking."

"MOM!" Fuyumi gushed immediately.  "Shouto has a girl at his apartment!"

"Oh?  Is he having dinner with his sidekicks again?"

"No!  Her name is Yuki and she's Uraraka's roommate," Fuyumi squealed joyfully.  "And I think things are pretty serious between her and Shouto- she was playing with his hair and he called her Princess!"

"...I'm putting on my coat.  I'll meet you there in half an hour," Rei said hurriedly before the line cut off, leaving Fuyumi fumbling for her own coat as she dashed out of her classroom door.  

[iidigestive-readerii]

The Good Jedi pt 3

Ahsoka wakes up confused and a little shaken before she remembers that she's in Satine's apartment. It's full of neutral colors and soft pillows and throws - not what she'd quite expect from a Mandalorian.

She had showered before bed and now sitting on the mattress looking around she realizes she's in a guest room. The clothes she was wearing had been on the bed after she showered, and the logo on the shirt she's wearing is from Sundari Academy. 

Sliding out of bed, she went to the 'fresher briefly to make herself somewhat presentable. The 'fresher wasn't anything fancy, she notes while relieving herself. Plain. Like a motel bathroom, almost.

The carpet of the bedroom is soft and barely worn while she digs around for a sweater. It's not that she's cold, but the comfort of one is compelling. She eventually finds an oversized Smashball hoodie in the closet, frowning at the year before putting it on. It was older than she was. 

Looking at the alarm clock, she realized it was nearing ten in the morning. She never slept that late… Obi-Wan would…

Obi-Wan wouldn't care, she realized on the way out the door. Her second master always let her sleep in between campaigns. It was Anakin who always woke her for more training, more teaching… Shaking her head, she stepped further into the hallway. There hadn't been much of a tour last night - everyone went to bed pretty much immediately. 

The walls were orange, small glazed windows peppering each side to let light in. There was another room across the hall, the door closed. She took a few steps, then turned her head to the room at the end of the hall. The master bedroom. 

The one both Satine and Obi-Wan had disappeared into. The door was open, and she could see dark purple walls and a large, unmade bed. 

So they were awake. 

There hadn't been time to process the feelings and emotions about Mandalore the past few weeks… Or Obi-Wan's relationship with its Duchess. She had never asked - it was never her place. They seemed content enough that it never mattered. 

The hallway dumped into the living room, which was much the same color palette: soft oranges, blues, pinks, with a large sectional in the center of the room. Two cloaks were tossed at the end. There were bookshelves scattered about, picture frames on the walls, an old fashioned television. There were a few doors at the corners of the room, probably containing storage closets or a home office or something. She'd only ever been in the downstairs part of the apartment, the formal dining room and entertaining area and communication room. Not…this.

Laughter broke her train of thought, and she wandered towards the sound and the kitchen. Her stomach grumbled at the smell of waffles and caf.

"...that the caretaker meant to kill him. Even if she did not intend to. She had every right."

"They all had something to gain, no matter the relationship."

Her back to Ahsoka, Satine let out a gusty sigh and took a large sip of her drink. "Why did I let Anakin give me all these holos… Anyways, I still think it was the owner of the estate. Everyone loved him for his money, nothing else."

"Then why - " Obi-Wan turned as he spoke, pointing the spatula at Satine before he froze, his expression softening. "Ahsoka…"

"...hi."

Satine turned, waving her forward. There was a medical brace around her chest and back, probably some left over - or continuing - physical therapy. "I'd ask you if you slept well but uhh… were you comfortable?"

Ahsoka nodded as she slid into a seat, smiling a little as Obi-Wan placed a cup of cat in front of her almost immediately. "Do you have any…thanks," she mumbled as he sprayed whipped cream on top of the caf. "Were you discussing one of Anakin's soaps?"

"Had to entertain myself somehow in the hospital. They're surprisingly addicting."

"I prefer crime…documentaries.” Ahsoka trailed off as she watched her normally uptight master spray whipped cream from the can into his mouth and continued to stack waffles onto three plates. One for each of them. “Are the clothes Korkie’s?”

Satine nodded as the plates were set, followed by a platter of melon and syrup. “I figured you two are about the same size.”

“I’m sure I can have Aayla bring some of your belongings over if you want Ahsoka.” Obi-Wan sat, cutting into three waffles at once. Ahsoka shrugged, picking up her fork. “That’s okay. Where’s Korkie? Why isn’t he here?”

The silence was deafening. Something wasn’t right. Obi-Wan sighed, reaching across the table to cover Satine’s hand. “We don’t know. Haven’t heard anything.”

“...last time I saw him he was being smacked across his face and knocked unconscious.” Satine took a sip of her caf to steady herself, pulling her hand away. “I don’t think most species could handle the neck bending like that.”

“You discredit him - Korkie’s a fighter. It’s in his gene pool, he won’t go down without a fight, god damn it. I pray for Vizsla.”

Ahsoka frowned, glancing between them as she pictured the Mandalorian prince. The resemblance was there, half the Galaxy had noted it, but neither had ever said anything and -

“The answers are yes and yes, Ahsoka.” Obi-Wan’s smile was a bit crooked, his eyes misty. “Took you long enough.”

“Not my business… but what are we gonna do about all…this?”

Satine leaned back in her chair, fingers scratching at the brace. “...I have an idea.”

---

I'll post the links to chapters 1 and 2 at a later date, but I'm sure you can find fairly easily! This is on Ao3 too!

But omg, thank you all so much for the response to this fic! Woah! I'm so happy everyone likes this! Fics dealing with both Ahsoka AND Satine's arcs are rare, I'm so glad I could fill a gap! I have no idea how many chapters this will be, it was just an idea I had to get out of my head! So comment, reblog, and if you're able tip me. I'll have my updated Ko-fi link up soon. Best! - DR

[anything4u-ml]

short jancy ff / sfw / finished/ 868 words

i’m thinking of having a pt.2 to this, (maybe nsfw?) let me know!

Nancy and Jonathan were just released from their job at the Hawkins Post. Shockingly. It was just about 8.

The two strutted out of the office to Jonathan’s car, putting their belongings in the back seat. Nancy carelessly threw her bag in and slammed the car door shut.

“Hey, you ok Nance?” Jonathan asked with love in his eyes.

“Huh? Oh, yeah. I’m just a bit tired.” Nancy said, not even looking him in the eyes as she said it.

That sentence stuck as odd to Jonathan. Yeah, it was late, but she seemed pretty, what’s the word. Determined, at work today.

“Are you sure?” He asked, softly.

“Yeah.” She sighed. They got in the car and Jonathan but the key in the slot. Before turning the engine on, he mentioned something to her.

“You know, um. You can talk to me. I don’t mind.”

“Jonathan. It’s nothing.” She said assertively. Jonathan sighed.

“You just seem-” he paused. “You seem different. Please talk to me if you need to Nancy.” Jonathan repeated.

“Really?” She asked. “You don’t mind?”

“I don’t.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“It’s just. The guys at work. They treat me like a piece of shit, and I'm tired of it!” She said, raising her voice a little bit. “Why do they have to treat me like I don’t know what I’m doing. Like some bitch who doesn’t know how to do her job.” Her voice, now reaching fiery levels of volume. Jonathan looked at her sweetly, tucking her hair behind her ear.

“You deserved to be treated better.” Nancy looked at him like he had gone insane.

“I’m serious Nancy. And to be honest, he’s probably jealous that you can do a better job writing than he ever could.” They both chuckled at Jonathan’s stupid joke. Nancy didn’t believe him but the words ‘you deserved to be treated better’ shook her bones to the core. No one had ever said something like that to her. An awkward silence made the tension in the cramped car rise.

“Do you wanna go somewhere to eat? To sorta take your mind of everything. It is kinda a nice time for dinner.” Jonathan asked. Nancy smiled.

“Of course. Can we go to that new Italian restaurant on Maple?” She asked, excited.

Jonathan paused. He couldn’t afford to treat Nancy at such a luxurious place

“Right um.” Nancy said, awkwardly.

“No no- Nancy. It’s ok.” He paused again.

“I’ll use my dad’s spare cash.” Nancy said, giggling. She kissed him on the cheek, and they were on their way.

Jonathan and Nancy pulled into the parking lot and were greeted by a man in a tux. He pulled down the window.

“Excuse me Sir,” the well-dressed man began. “Would you like me to be your valet and get your car for you?” He looked and Nancy and she nodded. They got out of the car feeling cheery and alive to be young adults eating at such a fancy restaurant.

“M’lady.” Jonathan said, pulling her chair. Nancy chuckled.

“Thank you Sir.” They laughed as they sat down.

They giggled through the dinner, laughing at the fancy-dressed waiters passed their table serving other guests. They had ordered the most extravagant meals and an outstanding dessert. Nancy got a pan-seared fillet mignon, while Jonathan got a lobster tail topped with a lemon vinaigrette, with a side of house salad. They also got chocolate dipped strawberries surrounding melted chocolate filled fudge cake. Other customers nodded to them politely, thinking they were members of congress, or something important like that. They felt so rebellious and free.

After getting the check, they got Jonathan’s car from the valet and left the restaurant. They drove down an empty highway near the forest.

“Where are you taking me?” Nancy said, jokingly.

“You’ll see.” He said mysteriously.

After ten minutes of driving up a never-ending road, they finally made it to a group of benches overlooking Lovers Lake. Nancy ran out of the car.

“Holy crap Jonathan! This is beautiful.” She kissed him directly on the lips. Jonathan was caught so off guard, but that didn’t matter. What mattered was that she was happy. They embraced and looked into each other’s eyes, smiling. Nancy was filled with such bliss looking at Jonathan.

“There’s more.” He said, running off back to the car. He pulled out a small Sony speaker with a large antenna. He put in Nancy’s favorite CD and took her hand. Nancy chuckled as they swung each under the moonlight. The music playing from the cheap speaker added an indescribable romantic aura.

“This night has been amazing.” Nancy said, a grin plastered across her face. They stopped dancing.

“Jonathan?” She asked nervously.

“Yeah? Is everything alright?” He asked softly.

“Yeah, it’s just um.” She paused. Jonathan looked worried.

“Jonathan. I love you.” She managed to let out. Jonathan was shocked. His stomach fluttered in his chest and his heart sank. He was overwhelmed with his emotions and shed a tear. No one besides Joyce or Will had ever said that to him. Three words, yet they meant so much. He embraced Nancy once again, this time with so much more love.

“I love you Nancy Wheeler. So damn much.”

[countlessrealities]

Request or randomized kisses meme || No longer accepting

@misstantabismuses sent: 'I want the K' (Jinx for Summer, maybe one of them finally works up the nerves to go smooch)

{ Randomly generated number: 10. Neck Kiss }

After agonising over it for almost a whole week, Summer had decided that this would The Day. She had know about the trip to Zaun Rick and Morty were planning to take and she had insisted on tagging along, despite the scientist's grumbling about how he didn't want to waste time "babysitting" her too.

As if she would have needed it, especially in a place that was almost familiar territory by now.

The whole ordeal wasn't supposed to take long, just a few hours to collect some...crystals or whatever after a brief stop to Silco's office, even if you could never known. After all, it wasn't uncommon for the duo's adventures to meet some unexpected, usually dangerous complication that prolonged them for days to no end. Not that any of that mattered to the redhead. Hours or days, anything would do for her, because that visit would still be the perfect chance for one, simple reason: Morty had to remain by Rick's side for the whole time.

As jealous as Summer still felt at times because her brother was obviously her grandfather's favourite, this time around she couldn't have been more glad to not be given the same amount of attention the boy got. She would would have been left to her own devices, which mean that she could have some time alone with Jinx.

Sucking in a quiet breath to still herself, the redhead turned his head slightly, to side-eye the other girl as she dug around in a pile of junk nearby. They had decided for a trip to the junkyard, to collect parts they could use to make accessories that Jinx could have sold or traded at the market. The location wasn't exactly fancy or charming, but it was one of the places where the two of them had bonded.

Besides, this was Zaun and this was Jinx. There was nothing more appropriate than a place that represented on of the many faces of that land.

Summer's expression shifted into a determined frown. Alright, enough stalling and overthinking. She had to act before the growing nervousness in her stomach could manage to convince her to chicken out.

"Uh, hey," she started, pushing herself back on her feet so that she could walk over where her friend was rummaging. He hand slipped inside the pocket of her trousers, in a way that she hoped would look casual. "I got you something. Well, more like made you something. Grandpa Rick brought home these small stones from space the other day, but they have turned not to be what he thought they were. He wanted to throw them away, but I grabbed them instead. They are, like, just space rocks, but I thought that they were pretty and..."

Her voice trailed out and, instead of continuing, she pulled two hairbands. Each of them were composed of a cobalt blue elastic thread that could have easily become invisible once wrapped around Jinx's blue locks and of fives little gems, with a colour scheme that recalled the way the shades the other girl used to paint her nails. They had been polished by hand and it showed, but the little imperfections just made them unique, compared to anything machine made.

"If you like them, I was thinking...maybe you could wear them like..."

Once again she didn't finish the sentence and, instead, she took one of the hair ties, to set it against the root of one of Jinx's braids. Her fingers softly brushed the cobalt locks and Summer suddenly became hyperaware of how close they were. Sure, it had sort of been on purpose, but the awareness still manage to catch her off guard.

Now or never, now or never, nowornever...

Green eyes met blue ones and Summer moved before she could lose the spark of courage she had been clinging on since walking through Rick's portal. She refused to let another great moment pass her without trying to seize it.

Ideally, she would have taken her time, spent a few moments admiring the speckles in those blue orbs and tracing the sharp lines of that pale face. She would have allowed herself to think how beautiful Jinx was, in a feral way that made her just more captivating and exciting. She would have also leant in slowly, and not rushedly as she did, because she wouldn't have to worry about freezing up.

But that was a fantasy, created and played inside her mind, where she could control everything, including her emotions. This instead was reality, with all its unpredictable variables and where nothing obeyed her thoughts.

And it was also the reality where Summer's mouth never reached its chosen destination, because she lost her nerve at the very last moment and ended up ducking her head down instead of forward.

The movement came too late for her to avoid any contact and her lips ended up pressed against the side of the other girl's neck, just under the corner of her jaw. The smell of gunpowder, dust and chemicals filled her nostrils, dangerous and enthralling, causing her to freeze e accidentally prolong the unplanned kiss.

After a few moments of daze, however, the redhead abruptly came back to her senses and jolted back, her feet catching in a piece of junk protruding from the ground and sending her falling backwards on her ass.

Great. As if she had been needing to look even more like a fool.

"I...Shit, that wasn't..." She stuttered out, face burning in humiliation, and then buried it in her hands not to have to look at her friend. "...Can we just pretend that none of this, like, ever happened?"

[infinitcnexus]

redemptioninchaos:

Paulo had dodged all of Shrike’s bullets, though they were just starting to get closer and closer with every shot. The ocelot had brought a fist back to try to cast another spell when Antonio’s voice sounded over the intercom. Shrike was getting dangerously close to hitting him, and while Paulo knew that, he still gave Shrike a teasing smirk as he let his feet touch the ground for the first time since he started the fight. “Lucky for you, the boss wants to see you for himself, otherwise you would have been gone with the wind. Up the stairs, fancy wooden door down the hall. Don’t keep the boss waiting, or else you’ll ache more than usual.”

“Ah, before I forget, you should get rid of that pistola and keep your magic tricks to yourself,” Antônio addressed Shrike through the intercom. “It would be easier for us to talk with no thoughts of impending death looming over our heads.”

“What if I want to hold onto my gun?” the demon asked skeptically, waving his handgun lightly. 

“Well, you can try, but I highly doubt you will have enough bullets and time to put down my men before they punch you full of holes. Up to you, though.”

The Harbinger scoffed uncomfortably. As much as he loathed Antônio’s insufferably arrogant attitude, the mob boss was no fool. He could visualize the otter sitting in his office, surrounded by desperate, high-strung, trigger-happy gooms who would carry out all of their boss's orders, especially with potential death nipping at their heels. Any ill-thought action could mean the untimely end of his raid. I better keep my guard up.

Stashing away the handgun inside his cloak, Shrike gave Paulo one last look before jogging up a set of stairs, which was no longer barred by a bouncer. He traveled down the long, empty, neon-lit hallway with the same hurried steps and pushed open the luxuriously carved wooden door at the end. In an instant, the surviving gangsters on both sides of the office lifted their guns and aimed them towards the demon. At the meantime, Antônio half-sat half-leaned against his desk at the center of the room, appraising Shrike inquisitively as he extinguished his cigarillo on an ashtray. 

“Finally. We meet at last,” Antônio smiled venomously. “You’re handsomer than I initially expected, even when you're covered in blood.”

“Can your flattery,” Shrike folded his arms. “What’s it that you want from me?”

“So impatient. You’re going to put wrinkles on that pretty face, frowning all the time,” the otter got off his desk. “Care to give me a reason for why you disrupted my partners’ businesses before you decided to stir troubles at my nightclub?”

“I’m simply sick of dregs like you thinkin’ they are untouchable,” Shrike responded. “You’re just wastin’ your time tryin’ to cut a deal with me.”

“So I’ve heard. However, a little bird told me that isn’t the only thing you’re after. As a matter of fact, I brought in a little something that may help jog your memory.”

Antônio looked at some of the men standing to his right and quickly tilted his head upward. Nodding their heads firmly, two of them hauled out a half-dazed teenage vole, dropping her in the middle of the office with the grace and care of an exhausted luggage handler before one of the duo shoved the barrel of his shotgun toward her head. Shrike frowned as he tried to maintain a stoic expression, but judging from Antônio‘s prideful smirk alone, it wasn’t hard to tell that he had succeeded in finding a weakness he could exploit.

“Rise and shine, my dear,” the mob boss said to her and looked at Shrike. “Your savior is finally here.” 

And Finally The Worm Grinned

Shrike gasped loudly with widened eyes, his half-naked body springing up from the battered couch in the living room of his modest apartment. He panted shallowly, and he eventually realized that, much to his dismay, it was an unprecedented phone call that had disturbed him in his deep sleep. He leaned forward and stretched out a hand at his hellphone on the coffee table, cursing unintelligibly when he accidentally knocked over one of the numerous empty beer cans in the process. A heavy sigh of defeat left his lips as soon as he spotted the caller's name on the pale blue screen.

There is only one Fat Bastard in New Ch’thon who fits the moniker.

“What is it?” Shrike half-sleepily asked. 

[yandere-sins]

who else wants a yandere teen ceo who fell for us from a interview they watched and we spilled our drink on the interviewer making the ceo laugh

I’ll ignore the ‘teen’ you threw in there because that doesn’t need to be applied here. But I do like the concept overall!

Just this over-confident, hardworking but constantly scowling CEO, who sneers at his underlings for poor performance and never seems to have a good day, of some big-name company that you applied to on a whim, absolutely falling head over heels for you after seeing the awful performance you put down in the interview. His secretary has never heard him laugh before, scaring her to the bone as she hears it ring out clearly, wondering which poor person is currently getting a new butthole torn by the CEO that he can laugh about them so much.

In reality, it's just you, on his little tablet, looking like you've just seen a ghost as you try to dry off the table and the interviewer who gets more and more agitated. He's been watching the interviews simply because he doesn't like and can't trust his HR representative to actually pick good fits for the company, and your performance was only pretty mediocre as well. However, seeing you make a fool of the rep is just too amusing to not be to his liking. You are truly delightful, perfectly imperfect, precisely what he needs by his side to balance him out. With his guidance, you could become the horror of all the employees he doesn't like, bringing dread and fear to their faces as you deliver the CEO's messages and maybe some more cups of water to splash them with. You are hired on the spot, he decides, as he sees you shake hands with the angry representative before hurrying out of the door, keeping your head low.

Rushing by his secretary, who follows quickly, he takes the elevator down to the lobby to catch you before you can leave, and you are even more amusing in real life to him. Every other employee is wary of their CEO smiling, but you just seem completely scared of him as he approaches, thinking he might be security or another important figure wanting to sneer at you. Your reactions are funny because the CEO already decided that from that day on, he will be your best friend. Throwing some unimportant documents your way, he tells you to come with him right away, ditching his secretary for you and taking you to brunch in his over-prized, leather-seat car that you couldn't even buy if you were employed in his company.

To you, it must look like a big misunderstanding, and you try to tell him politely that you were underqualified anyway as he keeps shoving fancy dishes your way while he drinks his coffee. The CEO just lets you talk. You're the first person in a long time whose voice doesn't annoy him and the first one he's been out on a date like this in years (even if it's one-sided). He doesn't comment, doesn't grunt your way as you try to figure out how to pay your portion of the bill since you couldn't resist trying at least some of the food. Until you get really quiet, sad, and depressed of fluking another interview and not being able to afford anything nice in your life like this brunch is. Perhaps the CEO just takes pity on you, no matter how strange the situation is, but nothing will really change for you going forward.

But instead of letting you wallow in your sadness, he merely pays for the food with his very shiny card before throwing it at you. "I expect you at 8 o'clock tomorrow morning in my office. Buy yourself some clothes and bring coffee. Secretaries don't need qualifications."

Saying this, he strolls out of the cafe, satisfied with himself and feeling splendid. He's off to fire his old secretary and make room for you to always be by his side from now on. You are left behind with more food than you can eat, a golden credit card, and a new job lined up, absolutely shocked with how your life is turning out. But, it's all too good to be true since you don't know who you're dealing with yet.

Given, the pay is terrific, even though your new boss wants you to stay in the office with him from morning till night. He has you follow him everywhere, do his errands, and minimal amounts of work fit for your position. But every one of your minor complaints about life is solved. There's a new apartment in your name, paid and the keys in your hand, he takes care of your debts, makes sure you eat out with him every day, get your own company car, and if he catches you staring at something while being out in the city, he has it shipped to your home. It's a dream come true!

However, that money isn't everything is something you have to learn the hard way, especially when it becomes way too much for you to handle. Your boss starts picking your outfits for you, sending you gifts that he "would like to see on you", comes over to your home with his spare keys just to "make some coffee" when he's lonely, and even makes plans for you to go out with him on your rare off days.

Sometimes he calls you into his office just to look at you. He makes you stand in front of him or give him your hand to hold, and you question it but aren't really in the position to refuse. Is this sexual harassment, you wonder as he asks you to come around his table to look at the documents he is working on, his eyes focused on you instead and his hand barely wandering to admire the clothes he picked and the fit they have on you. Admittedly, you heard people whispering about you two already. Still, you've been trying to brush it off, thinking he couldn't see you as anything else but an employee.

That is until he tries to advance the relationship to something much more intimate. You really wanted to believe you two were just co-workers, but it's clear from the moment he finally kisses you, unable to let go of your lips while he pulls you tightly against his chest, that your boss doesn't feel the same. He's ecstatic to finally let go of dumb restraints, believing that you must be feeling like he does after all he did for you. The CEO is ready to advance all of this even faster, preferable in your bedroom that he paid for to be furnished, and perhaps the wedding the next day. But to you, it's finally the time you see all the red flags rising higher and higher. You storm out of your own home just to get away from him, but he checks which hotel you are booking in, tracking your car, phone, credit card. After all, he gave those to you. And through them, he can follow you everywhere you go.

You want to leave; you really do. Had you known these are his true intentions, you'd never have started at this job. Even if you were poor before, you still had some pride in yourself and your skills, never having accepted a position that was so far off just because your boss seemed to mistake you for someone who will get into bed with anyone who pays them well. But when you open the door for 'room service,' it's your boss, easily overpowering you as you try to slam the door in his face. Instead, he slips into your room, taking a moment to admire his adorable, sweet darling fresh out of the shower before giving you an envelope and sitting down on your bed to wait for you to get dressed and have a look.

You were so stupid to just follow orders, signing papers that show you've been embezzling money and spilling company secrets to 'rival firms'. After all, you were underqualified, you didn't know what to do, and your boss was strict on you signing these papers. He's been setting you up for the possibility of you rejecting him. Everyone always did. So he decided that for once, he'd get what he wanted, no matter what he needed to do. With these fake pieces of evidence, he could sue you and multiple generations after you into financial ruin. You had to gulp at that, close to tears already as you finally read through the documents you stupidly signed on his urging.

What choices do you have? Do you want to fight this pointless battle? Or do you just accept the hand he holds out to you, pulling you onto his lap where he holds you, finally happy now that he quite literally owns you? Let him tell you that he'll treat you just as well, maybe even better from now on, that you two will live a life others could only be envious about? Your boss assures you that everything will be okay as long as you keep being his sweet little secretary, listening to his every order, and following his guidance as you always did. But your job description might change again in the future, you realize, as he holds out hundreds of thousands of dollars worth in diamonds set into a ring for you.

[valiantmugcowboyscissors]

SugarMommy!Kate Bishop x Reader

(Masterlist)

will be writing a fic based on this soon.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Kate was new to it

It was her first time having a sugar baby

She didn't know what to do with her money and she wanted to treat someone

so she decided to install an app that would find her a sugar baby

She chose you because you went to the college she was previously at

Since you had that in common, you both got along pretty well

After a few days of texting, you met up for dinner at a fancy restaurant

Kate tried to act confident but she was nervous

You could tell so you assured her it's okay

After an hour of just talking over pricey dinner, you discussed what your relationship was going to be like

The agreement was that Kate would pay your full college tuition, your apartment bills, and buy you whatever you wanted every Friday (if it was reasonable)

On your side, you would be there for her sexual pleasure and to keep her company whenever she wanted

She'd buy you outfits she thinks you look hot in

If you had finished college exams, especially if you struggled with them, Kate would take you on vacation to reward you

Places like Italy or Portugal

She would make you try all the good food from other countries, no matter how expensive

You'd stay in the best hotel too

She'd bend you over the hotel room balcony and fuck you from behind

Kate's mom was mad at her for spending so much money, but she didn't care

She owned a lot of big straps

If she was working at her mom's company, she would call you over and fuck you in her office

Kate would definitely get off on you sucking her strap

She loves it when you kneel under her desk at work and suck her off

She wants to treat you right but she would totally fuck you in an alleyway

Public Sex is a YES

The thrill of getting caught makes Kate fuck you harder

On the way to an event she will finger you in the car

Doesn't care if the driver sees or not

Always wears a strap under her suit

When she brings you to an event, she is for sure fucking you in the bathroom at least once

Or she'll make you wear vibrating panties that she can control with her phone

Loves to tease you in front of other people

"Is everything alright with you? You look a little out of breath"

If anyone hits on you, she is by your side straight away

No, you're not dating but she feels very protective

One day you accidently call her daddy and basically die inside

But it's okay because Kate is into that

At first she would stutter

"What.. what did you call me?"

and you'd be super embarrassed

but then she'd get more confident and say it without stuttering

you'd be super turned on

She'd fuck you right there

You love being fucked into the mattress

Especially when she's wearing a big strap

Her grunting + her strong arms drive you insane

the way she'd manhandle you into any position she wanted you in

She'd grunt and talk about how she's so good to you

how you need to take 'Daddy's dick'

After about a year of this, Kate realises how badly she needs you in her life

How you add balance to her life

without you, she'd be so bored

So she bravely asks you to move in with her

Obviously, you say yes.

Her penthouse is big and colourful

A lot of purple, which made sense

You have your own room but you find yourself always falling asleep in hers

She lets you choose some of the furniture and decorations to put around her penthouse

She tells you to not bother looking at the price

If you want it, you've got it

For your birthday she adopts a puppy for you

You cry and kiss her

that's when you realise you definitely love her

more than you probably should

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

[tommyspeakycap]

Shelby!Sister getting poisoned whilst at dinner with the whole family?

changed it up a bit; reader is roofied at one of Tommy’s fancy ball type parties and there’s one particular gentleman around to help her out.

Good Team

Tommy had, since you were merely a little girl, endeavoured to introduce you emphatically as (y/n) Shelby, with your surname stated soaked in ferocity and warning. You are a Shelby. You are his little sister. He makes sure people know this. He makes sure they’re aware. He sees it as a pre-warning, the kind that lets them know that you are very very important to him without actually saying those words. He sees it very much as a pre-warning for grievous bodily harm had any trouble befell you at another persons discretion. It was made incredibly clear from the moment you were born that you were so far from off limits to the enemies that it didn’t even need to be spoken.

However, it was a relatively occasional occurrence that this message was not accurately conveyed no matter how clear your elder brother was about the matter.

You were usually so cautious and so careful, but you were in your brothers own ballroom with his own supplied champagne and you had very few worries of such a simple business gathering for Christmas. You were adorning an extortionate dress that Tommy had made for you with a beautiful fur shoulder wrap, cheeks dusted with a champagne blush and a gorgeous smile as you mingle with rich business people and rich couples who were born into money. They were amazing at times to ogle at, coming from such a poor background. It was hard enough to adjust to your new life flaunting pretty dressed and walking around with a purpose and a job that had significant purpose.

But it would be safe to say you weren’t so worried around these people. You should’ve known better.

You keep blinking, squeezing your eyes shut to try and find vision again that wasn’t restricted by blurriness. The heels on your feet didn’t aid you much in the way of keeping your balance as you stumble into a long hall. You don’t remember where you last saw Tommy and you can’t remember where the glass you were holding had gone. You don’t know much, but you know you have to find one of your brothers.

Heavy footsteps behind you send a rush of hazed adrenaline through your veins, forcing your legs to move you faster, your arms scratching off paintings lining the walls as you attempt to use the wall as a stabiliser.

“Someone’s ‘ad a bit much, eh?”

Your eyelids flicker as you try to keep them open against the light that makes you feel like your head is exploding. “No, no I- there’s someone trying to get me!” You hiss in a slurred whisper with arms that flail somewhat aimlessly as you attempt to point out the person behind you. The man with his his on your biceps steadying you leans around to get a good look behind you. “Mhm, there me no one there love.” He says, confused. You can only vaguely make out who the person is that holds you up and it’s someone you know your brother only invited so as to attempt to talk him into taking on more Blinders for distillery protection.

Alfie Solomons wasn’t entirely the most trustworthy person that surrounded your family. Him and Tommy had a bit of a tendency to betray each other, no matter how expected it always was. The London gangster probably wasn’t the best person for you to bump into and definitely not the most reliable, but he was who you had ended up with and although it could have been him that drugged you, it didn’t seem incredibly likely. He told Tommy and Grace when greeting people at the front door; “No need for the fucking niceties eh Tommy? I’m here for the free booze mate yeah?” and walked on through with a pat on your brothers back.

Despite the fact you didn’t have much trust in him, you really holed that he wouldn’t pass you off as being overly drunk and leave you alone. You feel dreadfully unwell. Alfie looks down the hall, then back at you and with a sigh, he slips his strong arm around your waist and pulls you into his side for your stability. “I think you’re right, Shelby.” Alfie mutters under his breath, barely loud enough for even you to hear. “Something‘s just not right.” He turns to you, using his arm that wasn’t wrapped around you to lift up your eyelid. Beyond the terror in your eyes in huge pupils. “You’ve been drugged,” he states, his voice still low. “Better find those brothers of yours.”

That brings you some form of relief, but the terror still remains. It’s a scary situation, to know what you want to do with your limbs and know exactly what you want to say, but to be unable to speak or walk or even hold up your head. Your heart hadn’t stopped racing and you were drenched in sweat. It’s a shock you didn’t recognise you had been drugged before hearing Alfie say it.

His arm is tight around the waistline of your expensive ballgown, keeping you steady against him as he walked as quickly as he could manage while supporting your weight. He only vaguely knew the way around Tommy’s huge country house, but he did know where the man’s office was, and he’d likely have a maid in waiting there who Alfie could send to fetch him once he got you there. As you both rounded the corner into the corridor that would take you to Tommy’s office, there a man dressed like a waiter standing seemingly waiting for you. “Mister Shelby sent me to collect his sister when he heard she was overly inebriated.” The man spoke. Alfie furrowed his eyebrows tightly, but nodded and walked you closer to him. You want to protest, but your mind still won’t coordinate with your body and the most you can do is grumble. “She’s a bit hard to deal with,” Alfie admits, “So a tip you should really know for the future?“ He pauses, moving as though he’s going to pass you over to the arms of the other man. Alfie leans in until he’s only a few inches away and whispers a warning “I fucking hate liars,” before sharply drawing back his head only to but it forward forcefully into the man’s face.

He stumbles back and Alfie takes that opportunity to grab the front of his suit jacket and throw him behind the two of you with a kick to his ribs a few times for good measure. He wraps his arm back around your waist and continues on down the hall as if nothing had ever happened. “Could tell by his-fuck!”

A yelp leaves you as your legs tangled when you attempt to bare your own weight and instead clatter to the floor with a thud. Alfie grunts and you fight to open your heavy eyelids to see that a man had dove out at him from a doorway along the long hall and there were now two of them and two of you, except they were both conscious and had full control of their own bodies, whereas it fell upon Alfie to fight for both of you. The Londoner truly does not know why he has put himself in this situation for anyone, never mind for a Shelby he had only met a handful of times. But every time he had met you, you were incredibly sweet and kind to him. He knows that they’ll stop attacking him if he allows them to take you and do as they please with you, but something in him prevents him from doing that. There’s a part of him that encourages him to spit the blood from his mouth and stand in front of where you lay in and out of consciousness on the fell, ready to fight for you like he had something to lose if he couldn’t protect you. Tommy would never know Alfie was there with you if he walked away now, but something in him wants to be there. Wants to fight for you.

And so fight he does, throwing punch after punch, trying to take on two at once. Alfie managed to take the blonde assailant out of the game by cracking the wall with his blonde head of hair, leaving him out cold and potentially dying on the floor. When he does that though, his moment of glory is short lived before the other appears behind him with an arm tightly around his throat. Alfie squirms and grunts, kicks and scratches attempting to get him off, but the attacker holds on despite the blows. Alfie thinks he may well have to accept his fate.

Then he clocks you again on the floor, except this time your hands and trailing up your leg, hiking up your dress and he is utterly confused at your behaviour, thinking that it must be the drugs acting weird in your system. That is, until your dress reaches your upper thigh and the London gangster feels what he thinks may be butterflies when he spots the holster and gun that had been well hidden by your long ballgown. He would laugh, grin even if he wasn’t being strangled nearly to death. He watched with blurry vision as you try to steady your hands enough to point the gun at the attacker that was too bury trying to hold Alfie Solomons down to notice your movements. Alfie squeezes his eyes shut as you move your finger over the trigger and he hopes to God your heads are steady enough to shoot the right person.

The bang goes off and very suddenly he can breathe again. He notes that’s a good sign. He scrambles away quickly, turning around to press his foot onto the bullet wound in the shoulder of his attacker. “I will come back for you.” He growls in warning, pressing his foot harder to elicit a scream before he nods and turns back to where you stand. He wipes the blood off the bottom of his shoe on the carpet before he steps forward to swoop your gun off the floor to slip it back into your thigh holster, and then he helps you back up. Except this time, he opts to sweep you off your feet and into his arms bridal style.

“Good shot.” He notes. You breath a chuckle with hooded eyes in response, but can’t manage anything else. If you hadn’t been severely drugged, Alfie might’ve kissed you.

He makes it to Tommy’s office with ease, ordering the maid to get your brother immediately. Alfie lays you down on the soft couch in the office, placing you carefully on on your side for safety in case you’re sick. He uses the not blood tinted side of his handkerchief to wire some blood splatter and sweat from your face gently, and offers a gentle smile. “We make a good team, Solomons.” You hum with words slurred and jumped, but he understand what you said nonetheless. “That we do, Shelby.” He rumbles back in response.

The moment is as any moment of yours often is, interrupted by your elder brothers storming in. Immediately, Alfie is ripped from your side by Arthur slamming the him roughly against the wall with a loud clatter and bang. John goes to stand by Arthur’s side, and Tommy takes a knee beside you. The patriarch places his cool hand against your forehead before dipping down to place his ear just above your lips. “She’s breathing.” He concludes, “What the fuck did you do to her?” He sneers through gritted teeth as he takes steps towards Alfie.

“And why the fuck and you covered in blood.” Alfie sighs heavily, rolling his eyes and flaring his nostrils at the proximity of the three Shelby brothers. “Funny story, you see Tommy.” He grumbles discontentedly, “Seems as though someone tried after your sister right under your fucking nose, mate. Drugged her drink, removed her from the crowd. I found her wandering the halls all fuckin’ disoriented yeah. Now I don’t like a man who targets a woman, much less has to fuckin’ drug her to achieve it.” Alfie shrugs. Tommy narrows his eyes, but something in him believes what the Camden Town Gangster is saying. Alfie doesn’t have much in the way of necessity for taking you and it wouldn’t make sense for him to have the opportunity to but instead to bring you here. Right to them. “Doesn’t explain the fucking blood.” Arthur hisses, slamming his back against the wall again.

Alfie holds up his hands. “You’re little sister isn’t such a damsel as you make her out to be, Thomas. She has a fantastic shot. Some cunts-“ Alfie’s words drop with pure venom as the reminder of the man nearly strangling him to death reenters his mind, “Came after her. On that note, you’ll need a carpet cleaner and some body bags just along that hall. Don’t let the missus see that mess.”

Tommy paused for a moment, his eyes not leaving Alfie’s even when he speaks. “John, check that corridor.” He orders, making his younger brother grunt in annoyance but do as told nonetheless. “Arthur,” He grumbles, placing a hand on his shoulder, “Take our sister upstairs and get Polly.” Arthur is hesitant. Tommy might believe the words that Alfie speaks, but Arthur despises him and the only thing he hates more than Alfie is the thought of Alfie’s hands on you without any of them being there to help you, protect you. He knows that he and a Tommy are asking themselves the same question. How could something like this happen to you right beneath their noses. How had someone managed to get to when they were so close, literally right in the same room in an event organised by them. Arthur couldn’t answer the question, but could probably have killed Alfie in his rage at that moment. “Arthur,” Tommy repeats more firmly, “Go.”

This time, he listens. But that’s not without a warning glare at Alfie, who simply offers a smirk in response. “And you,” Tommy says finally, turning his attention to Alfie, “Fuck off.”

Alfie chuckles, but begins to walk past Tommy to leave the office when the smaller man grabs his arm in a vice like grip that makes the tips of his fingers tingle with the strength of it. Alfie feigns the urge to fight back in reaction to the pain. Tommy leans in close to his ear with a low snarl, “You don’t just help people. I don’t care what the reason was eh, but don’t you ever go near my sister again.”

Then he lets go and Alfie simply shakes off his arm and walks away. He hasn’t listened to Tommy Shelby any time in the past, and it appears as though today will be no different.