secret-agents-found-my-diary

[secret-agents-found-my-diary]

Top Gun x Reader — “Crash and Burn” (Maverick x Injured!Reader)

Set during the original Top Gun timeline (1986)

⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒

You weren’t supposed to get hurt. It was just a routine dogfight exercise. Simulated, safe, controlled. But “safe” didn’t always mean flawless, especially not when Hollywood decided to showboat and pull a risky maneuver—right in your flight path.

You’d tried to veer off, tried to avoid him mid-roll, but the sudden shift had thrown your jet into a sharp stall. The emergency eject triggered—more instinct than thought—and the explosion had torn through the sky, hurling you into open air before your chute deployed.

You hit the sand hard. Pain shot down your left side instantly, sharp and fiery, and when you looked—you saw it. A gash. Starting from your shoulder, running jagged and angry all the way down to your forearm. The torn metal of your own cockpit had sliced you open on the way out.

By the time the medevac came, you were conscious, cursing like a sailor, and refusing to let anyone touch you.

Anyone but Maverick.

⭒

Back at base, you sat on the edge of the sink counter in the med bay, scowling through the sting as Maverick crouched in front of you, focused and quiet.

The top half of your flight suit hung around your waist, arms limp in the sleeves. All you had left on was your regulation bra, white and soaked in sweat and grime, but you didn’t care. Not now. The blood mattered more.

“You sure you wanna do this?” he asked lowly, unwrapping another roll of gauze. “The corpsman’s outside. They can—”

“No.” Your voice came firm. Strained. “I trust you, Pete.”

His jaw clenched at your use of his real name. He nodded once. Wordlessly.

You hissed as he began to dab antiseptic across the open wound. The cut ran long and raw, barely missing muscle. Angry red and already swelling around the edges. It was a miracle it hadn’t hit an artery.

“Hold still, baby,” he muttered, voice quieter now. “I got you.”

You bit your bottom lip to stay silent, trying not to wince, but his fingers—usually featherlight and teasing—were now careful, precise. Confident in a different way. His hands were warm as they worked, and even though the pain made your eyes sting, you watched him instead of looking away.

“Hollywood’s getting benched for this,” Maverick said, the calm tone barely masking the rage simmering underneath.

“He didn’t mean to,” you murmured.

“He was reckless. And it could’ve been worse. You—” He paused, fingers slowing as he ran the gauze down your forearm, pressing gently. “You could’ve died.”

“But I didn’t.” You touched his wrist with your good hand, blood-smeared fingers brushing the cuff of his sleeve. “I’m still here.”

He didn’t answer right away. Just looked up at you with those piercing eyes, filled with a thousand things he wouldn’t say—not here, not now. Then he leaned in slowly, pressing his forehead against yours for a second.

“You scared the hell outta me.”

You closed your eyes, letting your breath steady.

“I’m sorry.”

He stayed like that for a beat longer before pulling back, eyes scanning your face like he was trying to memorize it.

He kissed your shoulder, right above the top of the bandage, and whispered, “Next time you get thrown out of a plane, make sure you land on me.”

“You’d break my fall?”

He looked up and grinned. “I’d break anything for you.”

And you believed him. Every word.

⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒

[secret-agents-found-my-diary]

I want to give Darrel Shayne Curtis Jr a little kiss on the forehead and tuck him into bed and tell him that it’s all going to be okay…

[secret-agents-found-my-diary]

────۶ৎ life is unfair.. kill yourself or get over it.

when you're the only girl in a house of boys, you've got to grow used to saying goodbye to the little things that made you happy:(

warnings : not much, really, it's just implied that the reader struggles in silence!

ᐟᐟ ⟢ a/n: hey um so.. starting out with this reader trope, you can request for more fics/blurbs/headcanons of the guys in the gang with this type of reader!

Darry never claimed to understand girls.

Not when their mama was alive, not when she died, sure as hell not now with you damn near grown and wilting in all the places you tried to bloom.

He doesn't know how to talk to you, not really. You aren't like Pony. You don’t yell. Don’t shove. Don’t bite back. But there’s something in your silence that needles at him just the same —maybe worse. Because Darry can’t fight silence. And lately, all you do is nod and say “Yes, sir.”

He knows you're mad. He knows you want more freedom —to go out, wear lipstick, see boys. But you're his little sister, for crying out loud. And when he looks at you, all he sees is your mama’s Sunday dress swinging on the clothesline. He sees fragile things. Things that get stolen. Broken.

So yeah, he holds tight. Too tight.

Today you're walking next to him in the store, arms crossed. Wearing a cardigan despite the heat —always so covered up lately, like even your skin’s too much for the world. He’s got one hand gripping the grocery list and the other pressing too hard against the cart, jaw clenched like a vice.

You murmur something about wanting to pick your own shampoo. “Mine smells like boys.”

He sighs. Sharp. Exhausted. “Honey, shampoo’s shampoo. You’ll live.”

You look away, bite your cheek, and that’s when he notices you haven't looked at him all day.

Your hit the checkout line. Your hands start drifting toward the shelf of dumb glittery things: cherry-flavored lip balm, cheap hair clips. He swats your wrist away like you’re five. “We ain’t buyin’ junk.”

Your face shutters. Lips press into a line. But you don’t talk back. You never talk back.

That should make it easier. It doesn’t.

He watches your eyes glaze over, focused on the ugly linoleum floor like it’s safer than looking him in the eye. And something inside him snaps —not with anger, but with fear. Fear of losing you. Fear of already being loosing you.

So he reaches. Not softly.

He grabs your arm. Not rough, but firm. Maybe too firm. You tense like you’re being arrested.

He leans down, voice sharp like cracked glass:

“Girl, you better straighten up or I swear- I’ll drag you outta here myself. You wanna act like a brat, I’ll treat you like one. That what you want, young lady?”

And oh.

Oh, that was not the right thing to say.

You go still.

Like scarily still. No flinch, no pull. Just silence. The kind that drapes over you like a funeral veil.

Darry expects you to snatch your arm back. To snap something under your breath. Hell, he wants you to. Wants proof you’re still in there. But you don’t even look at him. Your eyes are locked dead ahead, full of glassy tears you won’t let fall —not in public, not in front of him.

And suddenly, Darry isn't angry anymore.

He’s ashamed.

You're not a brat. You're not misbehaving. You're just… tired.

Tired of being the “good girl,” tired of holding it together, tired of living in a house full of boys who don’t see that you're breaking just like them, only quieter.

You don’t cry. Not there. But you go pale. Start breathing weird. Your fingers tremble against the cart.

And that’s when it hits him. The same way it hit when Pony cried in the store once, years ago, all green-eyed and furious. But this time it’s worse.

Because you don’t even give him your tears. You holds them in like poison.

And later that night you don’t eat dinner. Don’t say goodnight.

You lock your bedroom door —a soft click, but it echoes.

Soda notices. He gives Darry a long look but doesn’t say anything. Pony watches silently, clutching a half-eaten piece of toast like he’s thinking the same thing Darry is:

You did it again, man.

Darry stands outside her door for a good ten minutes that night. Tries to say something —but the words feel dumb. Heavy. So he knocks.

No response. Not even footsteps.

Inside, you're probably curled up in bed. Holding your stomach. Feeling like a burden. Crying quietly, because you think you don’t have the right to feel hurt. Not when Darry works so hard. Not when the boys have it rougher.

But Darry knows. He knows. He may be clumsy, but he ain’t blind.

And he wishes—God, he wishes—he knew how to be your daddy.

He ain’t. But sometimes he has to be.

And that means he has to learn, fast, before the girl with the quiet sobs and cherry shampoo leaves the house with a heart too heavy to carry.

Darry doesn’t sleep that night. He just sits at the kitchen table, staring at the flickering bulb above the sink.

Because he knows… you might forgive him.

But you'll never forget that day in the store —the day he called you a brat when all you wanted was to smell like something pretty.

[secret-agents-found-my-diary]

They are a group of tough greasers but they call their friend Johnnycake

[secret-agents-found-my-diary]

Baby Steve… what will he do…

[secret-agents-found-my-diary]

he’s been 14 for a month 😠😠

[secret-agents-found-my-diary]

[secret-agents-found-my-diary]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐀𝐍𝐆 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

headcanons:

the gang x little curtis sibling!reader getting your period monthly shed prank the gang x extroverted!reader jealousy headcanons the gang x drag racer!reader theatre kid!reader dog person!reader reader with ocd affectionate!reader the gang x reader with body dysmophia the gang x quick-witted!reader the gang x ditzy!reader the gang x reader under anaesthesia warming your hands/feet against them the gang x overstimulated!reader how protective the boys are the gang x cat person!reader how you met the boys the gang x sunshine!reader the gang during the holidays how they act when they're mad the gang x short!reader the gang x injured!reader randomly asking for a hug how they act around kids the gang x artist!reader the gang x curvy!reader going to build a bear the gang as dads princess treatment meeting the gang (younger) cuddling with the gang the gang x hard of hearing!reader the gang x athletic!reader the gang x party!girl sick!reader how they help you socially anxious!reader tiana!reader first time sharing a bed quiet moments with the gang dancer!reader famous!reader gift giving!reader fighting in the rumble the gang x sheldon!reader

imagines:

comforting the gang

[secret-agents-found-my-diary]

“Trios never work”

you’re right…

johnny and dally:

“Let’s die together and not tell ponyboy”

[secret-agents-found-my-diary]

Rate my friend’s stranger things OC:

Her name is Elizabeth Hopper

Jim adopted her and Eleven

Eleven is her younger sister

She basically has every power in the world

She’s dating Steve Harrington

Her lab number was 13

She escaped the lab with eleven but they got separated and she has adapting powers so she chose her name until she reunited with Eleven

———————————————————————

I personally love her OC but I feel like she went a little overboard with the powers

[secret-agents-found-my-diary]

Title:“The Babysitter”

Setting: Stranger Things Season 3, Episode 1 – “Suzie, Do You Copy?”

Pairing: Steve Harrington, Robin Buckley, Mike Wheeler, Lucas Sinclair, Max Mayfield, Will Byers x Reader

—————————————————————————

Supervising a group of teenage nerds wasn’t exactly how you’d planned to spend your night, but here you were, following Mike, Will, Lucas, and Max into Scoops Ahoy as they plotted their grand snack-smuggling scheme.

Robin barely glanced up from her magazine as she greeted, “Welcome to Scoops Ahoy, where all your dairy-based dreams come true.” But when she finally looked up, her eyes flickered between the kids, you, and—most importantly—Steve, who was in the back stacking inventory like the world’s most disgruntled sailor.

“Hey, dingus, your wife and kids are here!”

There was a loud thud as Steve dropped a stack of cups. “What?!”

Robin nodded toward you and the kids. “Y’know. Your doting spouse and your little brats.”

You crossed your arms and gave Steve a teasing look. “Wife, huh? Didn’t know we tied the knot, Steve.”

Steve groaned, rubbing his face. “Can we not do this today?”

“Oh, I think we have to,” Robin said, grinning as she leaned on the counter. “So, how long have you two been married? Or is this a slow burn kinda thing?”

Max snorted while Lucas whispered, “This is so much better than the movie.”

Steve shot them a glare before turning to you, exasperated. “Are you seriously enjoying this?”

You smirked. “Oh, absolutely, Dingus.”

Robin let out a cackle. “I like her.”

Steve groaned again as Mike finally spoke up, trying to get things back on track. “We need you to let us in through the back.”

Steve frowned. “Why?”

Lucas gave him a look. “Because we’re sneaking in snacks.”

Steve sighed, dragging a hand down his face. “Why do I even ask?”

You leaned on the counter, feigning sympathy. “C’mon, Steve, just do this one thing and I won’t tell Dustin about how you screamed like a little girl when that moth flew in your hair last week.”

Robin gasped dramatically. “Wait. That happened?”

Steve shot you a glare before muttering, “Fine. But if I get fired, you’re all banned from ice cream for life.”

Robin scoffed. “Like you have the guts to do that.”

As the kids celebrated their victory, you patted Steve’s shoulder, flashing him a teasing grin.

“Good talk, my darling husband.”

Steve let out the loudest groan yet and Robin absolutely lost it.

[secret-agents-found-my-diary]

Title: “Breaking Point”

Pairing: Graham Crackle x Reader

Rating: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff Ending

—————————————————————————

Something was wrong.

You knew it the moment Graham stepped inside.

He shut the door harder than necessary, his shoulders tense, his head slightly bowed. There was no sarcastic remark, no teasing smirk—just silence. And Graham Crackle was never silent.

Your stomach twisted.

“Gray?”

He ignored you, walking straight to the bedroom. You followed, concern outweighing any hesitation. When you reached the doorway, he was sitting on the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees, hands gripping his hair.

You swallowed hard. “Talk to me.”

Nothing.

The weight in your chest grew heavier, but you refused to let him shut you out. You stepped forward, placing a hand on his shoulder. He flinched, just barely, but he didn’t pull away.

“I can’t do this anymore.” His voice was low, rough, strained.

Fear clawed its way up your throat. “Do what?”

Graham exhaled sharply, finally looking at you. His usual sharp confidence was gone, replaced by something raw, something broken. “Everything,” he muttered. “I’m tired of pretending I have it all together when I don’t.”

Your fingers tightened against his shoulder. “You don’t have to pretend. Not with me.”

He let out a bitter laugh. “Maybe I should.”

The words stung, but you didn’t back down. Instead, you cupped his face, forcing him to look at you. His skin was warm beneath your touch, but there was a coldness in his eyes that made your chest ache.

“You’re not alone, Gray.” Your voice was firm, unwavering. “No matter how much you try to push me away, I’m not going anywhere.”

His breath hitched. For a moment, you thought he might argue, that he’d say something just to keep you at a distance. But then his arms came up, pulling you next to him and wrapping around your waist.

His forehead rested against yours, his breathing slowing down.

“I don’t know how to be what you need,” he whispered.

You pressed a soft,lingering kiss to his lips. “You already are.”

Graham exhaled shakily, his grip tightening around you. And for the first time, he let himself believe it.

And for the first time, he let himself stay.

—————————————————————————

There is a criminal lack of fanfics for this hot mf smh😞

[secret-agents-found-my-diary]

Title: Speeding into trouble

Pairing: Brian O’Conner x Reader

Genre: Fluff, Humor, Found Family

Summary: You and Brian are trying to have a normal day, but with this family, “normal” is out of the question—especially when Hobbs and Shaw get involved.

₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊ ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅ ✮ ⋆ ˚｡

Sundays were supposed to be peaceful

Supposed to be.

You were sitting on the hood of Brian’s Skyline, sipping your iced coffee, watching as Dom and Letty argued over who was the better driver (again), Tej and Roman were making bets on a ridiculous drag race (again), and Brian? Well, Brian was currently losing his mind because his car keys had mysteriously vanished.

“I swear I left them in the ignition,” Brian muttered, patting his pockets for the fifth time.

You smirked. “You mean the same ignition that you never leave your keys in because, and I quote, ‘I’m not an idiot like Roman’?”

“Exactly,” Brian said, before pausing and narrowing his eyes. “Wait—was that an insult?”

Before you could answer, a deep chuckle rumbled from behind.

“Looking for these?”

Brian turned, and there stood Luke Hobbs, twirling the car keys on his finger like it was his car. The man was built like a tank and had the smirk of someone who enjoyed messing with people.

Brian sighed. “Hobbs, man. Really?”

“I had to make sure you were still sharp, O’Conner,” Hobbs replied. “Wouldn’t want you getting rusty.”

You snorted. “Yeah, because stealing his keys is a great way to train him.”

“I didn’t steal them,” Hobbs said, looking far too amused. “I borrowed them. For safekeeping.”

Brian pinched the bridge of his nose. “You are the law, man.”

“Exactly.” Hobbs tossed him the keys, which Brian caught effortlessly. “See? All good. No harm done.”

“Yet,” came a dry British voice.

Everyone turned to see Deckard Shaw leaning against his car, arms crossed, watching the scene with his usual look of disapproval.

“What’s the matter, Shaw?” Brian smirked. “Jealous you didn’t think of it first?”

Shaw rolled his eyes. “Unlike you lot, I have better things to do than play hide-and-seek with car keys.”

Roman, who had been stuffing his face with snacks, pointed at him. “Yeah, like losing to me in our last race.”

Shaw’s gaze turned cold. “You cheated.”

“I won,” Roman shot back. “Same thing.”

Hobbs looked between them. “You two wanna settle this now? I’ll referee.”

Tej groaned. “Oh God, not again.”

Meanwhile, Brian wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you close as the inevitable chaos unfolded. “So much for a peaceful Sunday,” he murmured against your hair.

You chuckled, resting your head on his shoulder. “Like we ever get one.”

He sighed, but there was a smile on his lips. “Yeah. But I wouldn’t trade it for anything.”

You glanced at your insane, dysfunctional, perfect family. Then back at Brian, the man who somehow kept you both grounded and swept up in the madness.

“Yeah,” you agreed, lacing your fingers with his. “Me neither.”

And as Roman and Shaw bickered, as Hobbs looked way too eager to referee a fistfight, and as Dom and Letty still argued about driving, you realized—

This was exactly the kind of Sunday you’d always have.

[secret-agents-found-my-diary]

Title: Fast & Foolish: The Prank War

Pairing: Brian O’Conner x Reader

Genre: Humor, Fluff, Found Family Shenanigans

Summary: What starts as a harmless prank between Brian and Shaw quickly spirals into an all-out war, dragging the entire crew into the chaos. No one is safe.

It all started with a single prank.

Brian had been bored. And a bored Brian O’Conner was a dangerous Brian O’Conner.

So when he noticed Shaw’s usually pristine McLaren parked outside the garage, unattended, tempting fate—he did what any reasonable person would do.

He covered it in Hot Wheels stickers.

Shaw’s reaction had been priceless. The man had stood in front of his car, arms crossed, jaw clenched, nostrils flaring like a bull about to charge. The stickers, bright and cartoonish, mocked him in the California sun.

Shaw turned slowly, deadly. “O’Conner.”

Brian, standing safely behind you, grinned. “Yes, Shaw?”

There was a long silence. Then Shaw’s lips curled into something too calm. Too collected.

“This means war.”

Prank War: Day 2

Brian woke up to the smell of baby powder.

Which was odd, considering he and you didn’t have kids.

And then he moved—poof!—a cloud of baby powder exploded from his sheets. He sat up, coughing, looking around wildly. His entire bed, his entire room, was dusted white.

He heard a chuckle from the doorway.

Shaw leaned casually against the frame, arms crossed, looking infuriatingly smug. “Sweet dreams, O’Conner?”

Brian glared. “You powdered me?”

“Consider it a warm-up.”

Brian clenched his jaw. Oh, it’s on.

Prank War: Day 5

Things escalated quickly.

Dom had tried to ban the pranks after Roman’s car was mysteriously filled with balloons overnight (“Ain’t no way I’m poppin’ all these!”), but Tej had pointed out that if Dom stopped them, they’d probably turn on him, so he wisely stayed out of it.

Letty picked sides based on amusement.

Hobbs, unfortunately, got caught in the crossfire when his protein shake was switched out with mayonnaise. The entire garage went silent as he took a sip, paused, then slowly turned to Brian and Shaw, both looking guilty as hell.

“I don’t know which one of you did it,” Hobbs rumbled, “but I will find out.”

Brian subtly nudged Shaw. “This is your fault.”

Shaw scoffed. “I don’t touch protein shakes, mate.”

Hobbs cracked his knuckles.

Brian and Shaw never ran faster.

Prank War: Day 9

You had had enough.

Watching these two grown men act like children was hilarious at first, but after Tej nearly got electrocuted by a rigged door handle, and Letty almost knocked Shaw out for putting pink dye in her shampoo, it was clear someone had to stop them.

So, you went nuclear.

That night, Brian and Shaw went to bed as enemies.

They woke up handcuffed to each other.

It took them five full minutes to register the cold metal around their wrists.

Then:

“WHAT THE HELL?!”

From the doorway, you, Letty, and Tej stood grinning.

“Morning, sunshine,” you said sweetly. “Figured if you two are so obsessed with each other, you might as well be attached.”

Shaw yanked at the cuffs, scowling. “You did this?”

Letty smirked. “Oh, we all did.”

Brian groaned. “Baby, why?”

You crossed your arms. “Because you two are menaces to society.”

Tej nodded. “And because Roman said he’d pay us $100 each if we pulled this off.”

Brian and Shaw stared at each other.

Shaw exhaled. “Truce?”

Brian slumped back on the bed. “Truce.”

You grinned. “Good. Because we lost the key.”

Their screams could be heard across the block.

[secret-agents-found-my-diary]

Title: I’ll look after you…

The house never really felt like home.

Sid’s voice still echoed through the halls, sharp and cruel, even when he wasn’t there. Your mom did her best, but she was too caught up in her own world to notice how much it hurt. How much he hurt.

But you noticed.

Because Johnny Lawrence was your big brother, and no matter what, you always saw through him.

You saw the way his shoulders tensed when Sid was in the room. You saw the way his hands curled into fists at his sides, how he flinched at every insult thrown his way. You saw the way he tried so hard to be strong, to be unshaken, because if he broke, what would happen to you?

And you knew.

He was holding himself together for you.

The car ride home was silent.

Johnny sat in the driver’s seat, his hands gripping the steering wheel so tight his knuckles turned white. His face was bruised, his lip split, and his eyes—his eyes looked lost.

You hated it.

You hated seeing your brother like this, broken down, defeated—not just by Daniel LaRusso, but by Kreese, by Sid, by every single person who ever made him feel like he wasn’t enough.

“Johnny—”

“Don’t,” he muttered, his voice tight.

You swallowed hard, gripping your hoodie sleeves as you looked at him. “You know it’s not your fault, right?”

He scoffed, shaking his head. “Yeah? Then why does it feel like it is?”

You didn’t know how to answer that.

Because no matter how many times you told him otherwise, Johnny had spent his whole life believing he had to prove himself. That if he lost, if he wasn’t the best, then he was nothing.

But he was everything to you.

He always would be.

“Johnny, you don’t have to win to be worth something. You don’t have to fight to matter.”

His jaw clenched, his gaze fixed on the road ahead. But his fingers twitched beneath yours, just slightly, like he wanted to believe you.

Like he needed to.

The rest of the ride was quiet, but when you got home, Johnny didn’t go to his room like he usually did. Instead, he walked past Sid’s liquor cabinet, past the reminders of every disappointment he thought he was, and stepped outside. So you followed him.

The backyard was cool, the sky clear.

Johnny lay down on the grass, staring up at the stars, just like you used to do when you were kids. You hesitated for only a second before dropping down beside him, shoulder to shoulder, just like always.

“You remember when we used to do this all the time?” you asked, breaking the silence.

Johnny let out a breath of a laugh. “Yeah. Guess some things don’t change, huh?”

You turned your head to look at him. “Some things don’t have to.”

He glanced at you, eyes tired but softer than before. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you whispered. “You still have me, Johnny. No matter what happens, no matter what Kreese says, or what Sid thinks—you have me. And I’m always gonna look after you.”

Johnny swallowed hard, his gaze flickering away. “I’m supposed to be the one looking after you, squirt.”

“You do,” you said, nudging him lightly. “But that doesn’t mean you have to do everything alone.”

Johnny didn’t respond right away. He just stared up at the stars, his expression unreadable. Then, after a long moment, he sighed and rolled onto his side, throwing an arm around you, pulling you close like he used to when you were little.

You didn’t say anything. You just let him hold onto you.

And for the first time in a long time, Johnny Lawrence wasn’t alone.

Plz lmk what you think about this I’ve been working on it for a while 😅

[secret-agents-found-my-diary]

Title: Blood Runs Thicker

(Paring: Thomas Shelby X Little sister reader)

(Genre: Pure angst :P )

———————————————————————————————————

The dim glow of candles flickered against the mahogany walls of The Garrison as the Shelby family gathered. The air was heavy with tension, the kind that settled deep in the bones and refused to leave. You stood with your arms crossed, your jaw set tight, listening to Thomas as he made his grand announcement.

“I’m marrying Grace,” he said, his voice steady, commanding.

Silence.

Arthur glanced at you warily, knowing the storm that was about to hit. John sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. Polly remained quiet, her sharp gaze flickering between you and Thomas.

You, the youngest Shelby, the one they all thought needed protecting, were shaking with barely contained rage. The very name of that woman made your blood boil. Grace. The woman who had wormed her way into their lives, stolen Thomas’ heart, and then betrayed him—betrayed all of you.

Your voice was low, but it cut through the silence like a blade. “Are you out of your fucking mind, Tom?”

He exhaled, already exasperated. “Watch yourself, (Y/N).”

“No, you watch yourself!” you shot back, stepping forward, your hands curling into fists. “She betrayed us! She put a bullet in our backs and nearly got us all killed! And now you’re going to marry her?” You scoffed, shaking your head. “No, fuck that. If I ever see her, I’ll—”

“You’ll what?” Thomas’ voice was suddenly sharp, dangerous. His eyes, cold and calculating, pinned you in place. “You’ll kill her? You think you can go against me? Against my decision?”

“She’s a rat, Thomas,” you seethed. “And we don’t associate with let alone marry rats.”

The room was suffocating now, everyone holding their breath. Thomas clenched his jaw, stepping closer to you, his presence looming, but you didn’t back down.

“I’m warning all of you,” he said, but his gaze was solely on you. “This wedding will happen. No one will cause trouble. And that includes you, (Y/N).”

You scoffed, crossing your arms. “You think I’m going to sit there and smile while you throw our family name in the dirt?”

Thomas’ face twisted in anger. “You think I give a fuck what you think?” he snapped. “You’re just a child. Always running your mouth, thinking you know everything. But you’re not me, (Y/N). You don’t make the decisions. You don’t know what it’s like to carry this family on your back.”

His words hit like a slap. But he wasn’t done.

“You act like you’re so fucking tough, but all you do is run around, playing at being a Shelby. You think being overprotective makes you strong? It makes you a liability. Maybe if you spent less time pretending to be something you’re not, you’d actually be worth something.”

The room went silent. You felt like you’d been punched in the stomach, but you refused to show it. You stared at Thomas, your face blank, your heart breaking into pieces you’d never be able to pick up.

“Understood,” you said simply. Then you turned and walked out, leaving the weight of his words pressing down on you like a vice.

₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊ ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅ ✮ ⋆ ˚｡

The wedding day arrived like a funeral.

You sat stiffly in the church, dressed in pink despite your current mood. Your face was unreadable, your mind a storm. Every fiber of your being screamed at you to stop this, to drag Thomas out of there before he made the biggest mistake of his life.

But you said nothing.

Thomas had made it clear—you weren’t worth listening to.

Still, when Grace walked down the aisle, looking ethereal in white, your nails dug into your palms hard enough to draw blood. Every word of the ceremony felt like nails on a chalkboard. Your own brother, your blood, was marrying a traitor, and there was nothing you could do about it.

You refused to look at Thomas.

But Thomas kept glancing at you.

At first, he thought he was imagining it, but no—there was something unsettling about how still you were. No sarcastic comments, no cold glares, no last-minute attempts to stop the wedding. Just silence.

And somehow, that was worse.

Because Thomas Shelby knew you.

And Thomas Shelby knew that when you stopped fighting, when you stopped caring enough to argue, that was when you had truly reached your breaking point.

As he slipped the ring onto Grace’s finger, something inside him twisted painfully.

He had made his decision.

And so had you.

You stood up and walked out before the ceremony even ended.

You didn’t cry.

Shelbys didn’t cry.

But as Thomas watched you go, an unfamiliar weight settled in his chest. He had won. He had gotten what he wanted.

So why did it feel like he had lost?

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Part 2?

[secret-agents-found-my-diary]

Takeover Title: “On the Road with My Brothers”

Chapter One: Tour Bus

Pairing: Sturniolo Triplets & Little Sister (Platonic, Sibling Bond)

Genre: Fluff, Comedy, Family

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“Y/N, if you don’t sit down, I swear I’m gonna tape you to the couch,” Nick groaned, watching as you bounced around the tour bus with way too much energy for this early in the morning.

You grinned at him, completely unfazed. “You act like this isn’t the best thing ever. We’re literally on tour! TOUR, Nick!”

Matt chuckled from the tiny kitchen area, shoving a Pop-Tart in his mouth. “She’s got a point. First tour? It’s exciting.”

Chris, sprawled out on the couch with a blanket over his head, mumbled, “It’s too early for this, and I’m too tired to care.”

Rolling your eyes, you flopped onto the couch beside him, dramatically draping yourself over his legs. “Aww, is my big brother cranky?”

Chris groaned. “I regret bringing you already.”

“You love me,” you shot back, poking at his cheek until he swatted your hand away.

Nick, already over the chaos, sighed. “We’re gonna have to set some ground rules.”

Matt perked up, intrigued. “Oh, this should be good.”

Nick held up a finger. “One, Y/N, no running around while the bus is moving. We don’t need you flying into the cabinets like Chris did last week.”

Chris lifted the blanket just enough to glare at him. “That was one time.”

Nick ignored him and continued. “Two, no stealing our hoodies and pretending they’re yours.”

You gasped. “That’s literally a sibling right!”

“Not on tour,” Nick deadpanned.

Chris sat up slightly. “Wait, wait—what about snacks? Because Y/N’s already got my stash.”

You clutched the bag of chips in your lap defensively. “Finders keepers.”

Matt shook his head, laughing.

You grinned. “Yeah, I’m the favorite.”

All three of them groaned at the same time.

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Lmk if yall want a chapter 2!