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always-just-red · 2 months

Note

hihihi! sylus girlie here. as a college student i often never take breaks whenever im working and often stay up late finishing up assignments. then i stress out but never tell anyone and suffer in silence:’) i was wondering if you could do something similar with sylus x mc where mc often forgets to take breaks at the hunters association and is always the first the volunteer for missions so she could improve.

but then it’s starting to take a toll on her and is so so stressed, but feels bad about venting to someone or saying no to new missions.

maybe one day she’s doing a simple task like cooking herself dinner (or something) but accidentally burns herself and she just ends up breaking down and decides to call sylus and he immediately goes to her. :’)

feel free to decline or change anything! i just like the thought of someone comforting u when ur overworked and stressed bc i wish someone would do that to me lol.

Fast-tracked this one for you, anon! I'm really sorry you're having a tough time right now, and I hope this brings you a bit of comfort- remember, Sylus would want you to take care of yourself! Good luck with all your studies, and feel free to send in another request if ever you need it! 🥰

Technical Difficulties

Sylus x Reader 🩸

Summary: You're not very good at asking for help when you're struggling. Thankfully? You don't always need to.

Genre: fluff + comfort ft. a very domestic Sylus!

Warnings/Additional tags: stressed reader (has a lil bit of a breakdown!), some swearing, uses of 'kitten' and 'sweetie', Sylus is so soft here he should come with a health warning tbh

| Word count: 2.4k | Masterlist | Opt-in to my taglist here!

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Love and Deepspace. All work is my own, so please don't repost or plagiarise!

In the event of a wanderer incursion where evacuation of citizens is obstructed or otherwise not viable, association protocol 32.3-A dictates that you should first… That you should first… What?

Your pen is poised above the blank space where your answer should be. 32.3-A is a general procedure: something to do moving people to the nearest shelter. Or, wait— are you supposed to try to contact support, first?

You drop your pen with a huff and flop face-down onto the mock exam. It’s too much. Too much information, too much responsibility. Open textbooks are spread over your desk and around your head like an unholy halo— stacks of them, filled with codes and procedures. They’re supposed to be helpful, but they’re not; they’re drowning you.

Your phone pings and you glance up. Text from Tara:

Hi! Hate to be a bother, but did you finish glancing over that practice question for me? xx

Shit. You’d completely forgotten. You straighten, reaching for your laptop so you can load up your latest emails. You’ve got time to look over it; the exam isn’t for another two days. Breathe, ok? You have time.

Seven unread emails. What? You scan over them frantically. Two from the Captain: accepting additional mission requests you’d applied for. Were those both this week? One from Nero: you hadn’t sent in that finished report. Three from your colleagues, all scrambling for help with the exam. One from Tara:

Thanks for saying you’d look over this for me! You’re the best at this stuff!

Ok, so: Tara’s practice question. Nero’s report. Your own practice questions. Then… dinner? Maybe that should come first. You’d skipped lunch— had one slice of toast for breakfast. But you don’t wanna cook; cooking takes time, and you’ve got none. None.

Your phone is ringing, snapping you back to reality, and you peek over at it. Sylus?

“Hi,” you greet as you put him on speaker. On your laptop, you’re opening up Tara’s attachment.

“Are you free tomorrow?”

Always straight to the point. “Uh… yeah?” you frown as you read through your friend’s work. “Why? What d’you need?”

Sylus sighs through the phone. “That was a test, sweetie. You failed.”

“Yeah, well…” you murmur, highlighting a sentence with your cursor. “Add it to the list.”

The man doesn’t find that funny. The phone is quiet— too quiet. “Are you alright?” he asks, just as your gaze wanders to check if the call has disconnected.

“Mmhmm.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, Sylus.”

You stare down at your phone. He’s waiting for more, but you won’t give it to him. You’re one word away from slipping, and you can’t let the dam crumble, especially in front of him. He’s smiling from the phone call background: a photo he insisted would ‘ruin’ his image when you took it last week.

“I need to go, ok?” Your eyes are shining.

“Ok,” he says softly.

There’s a bleep as the call cuts out, and the photo is gone. Waiting beneath it is another text from Tara, and one from Xavier: Nero told me to txt U bout a report??

You swallow the ache in your throat and slump down on your desk again.

…

You wake up with a start, your head ringing. The tangerine sky outside your window’s turned dark— your laptop, too— and light spills from your desk lamp, yellow on white pages. There’s more, and you turn, tracing it back to where it leaks through the crack of your almost closed bedroom door.

You hadn’t left any lights on in your flat. You hadn’t switched on your lamp, either.

Tiredness is dulling your thoughts and your senses, but you know you feel uneasy. There’s something in the air: smoky, but not unpleasant. You can hear something as well. No— two things. A faint, almost imperceptible hiss, and a more obvious humming.

Hunter instincts kick in. You roll open a drawer of your desk, snatching up one of your standard-issue pistols and removing its safety with a click. You stalk up to the door, your trained footsteps near silent. You take a deep breath, clearing your head. One. Two.

Three! You shoulder the door open, leaping through with your gun trained forwards.

At the other end of your sights, Sylus turns, an eyebrow raised. Your kitchen stove seethes behind him, and he gives you a once over as he sluggishly raises both hands. “You flatter me, kitten,” he smirks in surrender, looking between your weapon and his: a spatula.

You lower your gun, your heart still racing. “I could have killed you, Sylus!”

“That’s the spirit.” His hands drop, too.

“How did you even get in here?”

He’s turned back to the stove, and he’s using the spatula to push something around a frying pan. “Hmm…” he muses, then blink— he’s gone. He’s at your fridge a second later, materialising from thin air. “I wonder,” he finishes as he reaches around for something.

Show off. “You know how I feel about you telepor…” No. “Phas…” No. “Magic…king…?” By now he’s watching you over his shoulder. “You know— that thing you do.” You’re twinkling your fingers. “What do you even call that?”

“Magicking, yeah.”

You huff in response and he laughs, walking back over to where he’s cooking two steaks and preparing a salad. You’re still coming to terms with the fact he’s even here, looking... quite frankly ridiculous, because he’s wearing your apron. It’s too small for him. Baby pink. Frilly, too.

“You know how I feel about you magicking into my home,” you mutter distractedly, because actually? He’s kinda pulling it off. His sleeves are rolled up past his elbows, tight on his arms. “Use the door like a regular person, you psychopath.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” He sounds smug. Ugh, he must feel your eyes on him; he must know. You think he’s toying with the idea of calling you out, but he doesn’t, and when he does speak, the smugness is gone. “Mephisto saw you were sleeping. I didn’t wish to disturb you. You sounded… tired. On the phone.”

Guilt twinges in your chest as you draw up beside him. “Is that why you’re here? Playing housewife?” You pick at a frill on the apron.

“Poke fun all you want,” he sneers. “This shirt costs more than your entire wardrobe.”

“Snob.”

“Ha.” You have to retract your hand as he threatens it with the spatula. “Watch yourself, sweetie. I’ll remember that the next time you ask to ‘borrow’ my card.”

You laugh gently. Now that’s a threat. You’re about to tell him so when you hear a ping from the other room, and your heart sinks. Just a single sound, and you’re back to where you were an hour ago, at your desk with the weight of the world on your shoulders.

Sylus hums in acknowledgment as you excuse yourself and hurry back to your workspace, snatching up your phone. You missed three calls while you sleeping: all from Xavier. He’s been texting you, too.

Nero’s yelling at me

Wants to talk to U

Can U pick up? Pls?

It’s one report, for gods’ sake. You feel your chest tightening again. You just needed to proofread it, but it’s probably fine, right? You wake your laptop out of standby; you’ll just send it as it is. “I’ll just be a minute, Sy,” you call out. “Need to finish one thing.”

He mumbles something in response, and you imagine it’s for the best you can’t hear it. Your keyboard clacks as you tap out a quick email to Nero, then you surf your files for the report he so desperately wanted. It should be… here. You attach it. Hit send.

Nothing happens.

Huh. You hit send again. Then again— still nothing. You groan, trying to back out of the email. None of your keys are working. Your cursor is stuck. “Oh, come on,” you release on an impatient breath. Switch it off, switch it on again? You hit the off button. The screen goes black.

With a sigh of relief, you wait a moment before switching it on again. The screen stays black.

“No, no, no, no,” you plead quietly, but it doesn’t cooperate. Your phone rings and you snap, hitting more buttons: Answer. Speaker. “What?” you hiss.

“Whoa. Hi…?” Xavier’s voice is cautious. “I don’t know if you saw my texts, but Nero—”

“The report, Xavier! I know! I know!” You try holding down your laptop’s power button. “I’m trying to send it, but my shitty computer won’t—”

“No way!” Tara’s voice comes in on the other line; did they both get the night shift? “Hey you! Did you get a chance to—”

“No, ok?!” you practically cry out. “No! Can you two just back off? Please!”

“Oh, sorry, I…” Tara sounds upset, then distracted. “Wait, Xavier wants to speak to you.”

“Are you ok?” he asks after a second.

Ok? You just want everything to stop. “I’m fine. Shit, tell Tara I’m sorry. I am sorry, Xavier, I just… I just need my laptop to…”

Work. Work! Nothing’s working. Half of your files are on there. How much of it is backed-up? Panic is setting in, gripping your body like ice. Your throat hurts and your mouth is dry, the dam is breaking and you can’t stop it. Tears prick at your eyes as you blink at the blank, hopeless screen. Your reflection stares back at you.

You let out a sob, expelling days of frustration and exhaustion. Everywhere you look there’s something you need to do, something you need to learn, something you need to finish. You can’t. You clasp a hand over your mouth, muffling your own cries.

Xavier is speaking— saying something over the phone— but you can’t hear him.

The light changes, and there’s a figure above you, lifting the phone from the desk. “They’ll call you back,” the shadow says. Sylus.

“Wait, who is this?” Xavier.

“That’s Skye!” Tara.

Your friends’ distant voices cut out as Sylus ends the call. He sets the phone down again, nudging your laptop out of view, then lowers himself until all you can see is him: his red eyes, softer than you’ve ever seen them. “Come on, sweetie,” he coaxes, guiding your hands over his shoulders.

You understand what he’s asking of you. His arms wrap around you and you hold him tighter, letting him lift you out of your chair. He feels warm, his skin ever so slightly flushed from where he’s been standing over the stove, and he pulls your legs around his waist, letting him carry you with ease.

With your face buried in his shoulder, you can’t tell where he’s taking you, and you don’t care. His shirt is going damp against your cheeks. You want to stop crying, but you can’t with the taste of your tears on your lips. You feel weak. You feel pathetic.

Something solid is behind you, and Sylus is setting you slowly down on the kitchen counter. He’s away from you for a moment— moving the frying pan off of the heat and turning a dial on the stove— but then he’s back, standing between your legs, standing close. You’re looking down until his hand is under your chin, lifting it with the delicate touch one employs when inspecting a flower that might break.

He shushes you without a hint of impatience. “Look at me,” he directs quietly, and when you do, he unrolls his shirtsleeves— drawing the cuffs over his hands so he can use them to wipe your eyes. “Now tell me what’s wrong.”

You do— you tell him everything. The hunter’s exam. The textbooks. The extra patrols you’ve been signing up for. The work you’ve been doing for your friends. The stupid report. The even more stupid computer.

Sylus listens collectedly, nodding his head and issuing the odd hum of understanding. He listens to all of it, and when you’re done, he pushes your hair back from your face with a sympathetic sigh. “Oh, sweetie.” A tendril is tucked behind your ear. “You should have said something.”

“I know.” Your gaze is still shy of his. “But how can I? I need to do this— be this— for everyone.”

His hands are on your cheeks again, drawing back your focus. “You’re just one person,” he says. “You— just you— and that’s all you need to be. You’re stubborn, and strong, but you’re not invincible. Even Linkon’s shiniest hunter is allowed to have limits. Everyone does.”

“Even you?” you snivel, setting him up for a quip.

Nothing. He smiles. Shrugs. “Even me.”

It’s hard to believe when he’s staring back at you, oh so solid, oh so perfect. Always a picture of strength: of fiery determination or calculated coolness. Everything in extremes; nothing by halves. Except… his hair is slightly dishevelled from where he’s been working away in the heat. There’s a damp patch on his shirt. He’s wearing your pink apron, and there’s mascara on his sleeves.

Then there’s the way he’s looking at you.

It shifts when you finally look back. He drops his hands from your face and pulls back a little. “You do a lot for your friends,” he continues with confidence, but he’s rubbing his neck, “and they care about you. You should afford them the chance to return the favour. It’s only fair.”

“You’re right.”

“…Good.”

Perhaps it’s the fact you’ve vaguely composed yourself— or the way you’re watching him like you’re seeing something new— but he straightens self-consciously, rolling his shirtsleeves back up as his eyes go sharp: assuming their usual severity.

“You’re too soft, kitten,” he scolds, reaching out to tousle your hair until you’re glaring daggers from behind a curtain of it. “How many times do I have to tell you? You put yourself first. Always. No-one else matters.”

There’s quiet for all of a second. He can’t help correcting: “Well, except me, of course.” The apron’s crooked, and he flattens it with a brush of his hands. “Any time spent with me qualifies as self-care. You really should know that by now, sweetie.”

Your mouth curls, but you haven’t quite got it in you to laugh— not yet. Stretching his neck with two sideways tips of his head, Sylus returns to his post at the oven, where the meal he’s cooking has almost certainly gone cold. You watch as the stove flickers back to life. The man is humming again, and though the food might yet be salvaged, whatever melody he’s attempting is long-past recognition, let alone saving.

You chuckle to yourself.

And you can’t see it, but Sylus is smiling, too.

#🖋rach is actually writing #sylus x reader #sylus #love and deepspace #lads sylus #lnds sylus #l&ds sylus #qin che #sylus x mc #sylus x you #lads x reader #lads #lnds #l&ds

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 months

Text

End Game 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, stalking, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your gaming buddy asks to meet up but it doesn't go exactly as planned.

Characters: Andy Barber

Note: get ready for the hate.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

The tunnel lights up ahead of you, revealing the cubic rock walls as you plant torches in your stead. The eerie soundtrack of night time and the ominous groan of zombies looming somewhere in the cave have you uptight. Silently, you press on, digging and mining mindlessly, fingers mashing the buttons on your controller.

“Hey, where are you?” Jacob’s voice startles you.

You nearly forgot you’re playing co-op. You sniff and shake your head, cursing aloud as your shock has you succumbing to the arrow of a sneaky skeleton. You sigh as your possessions scatter and you spawn back in your bed.

“Back home,” you say glumly, “just ate it.”

“Ah, damn,” his deep voice rolls in your noise-cancelling headset, “sorry, hope that wasn’t me.”

“No, I wasn’t paying attention,” you hum and sigh.

“Ah,” he accepts and lets silence linger before he clicks his tongue, “what’s going on? Everything alright?”

“Yeah, yeah,” you put the controller down, your avatar sitting on the geometric bed, “I just...” you stretch your neck and massage your scalp around the thick band of the headset, “got a lot on my mind.”

“Right. I thought you were all done exams,” he says.

“I am, but... packing. Going home. I called my old boss and turns out I’m not gonna have a job this summer. Gotta start over,” you yawn and rub your eyes, “what about you? Final exam tomorrow?”

“Uh... yeah,” he hesitates as if he forgot. You do wonder why he isn’t cramming right now. You could never play minecraft all night the day before a final. “Easy stuff. I’m not worried.”

You scoff. You wish you could say the same. All you’ve done is worry those last two weeks. Exams, getting home, getting a job. Your grandmother won’t very happy to find out you’ll be slumming it for a while. At least you tucked away some money through the semester.

“Hey, if you need a few bucks...” Jacob offers.

“What? Are you crazy? No way,” you exclaim, “really, no, I couldn’t. I’ll be fine. I just... I hate looking for jobs. You know how it is. Friggin awkward.”

“It’s not a big deal. My dad sent me my birthday money so...”

“Uh uh,” you deny him again, “that’s way too much. I couldn’t-- we haven’t even met.”

“Mm, yeah, about that,” he exhales into his microphone, “I, uh, got an extra ticket to this Con. I figured out that’s it like the midway point between us so...”

“A con? Oh, wow--”

“Yeah, but I get that it would be expensive so maybe I could pay for your trip?”

“Jacob,” you wiggle the controller restlessly, “I can't accept that. It’s so nice but... it’s a lot.”

“I wouldn’t offer it was too much,” his voice is soft, meek, and defeated. You feel bad but you would feel worse taking advantage of his kindness. “We’ve been talking all year. I just figured it would be a good chance to meet up. It would be in public and something we both like so...”

You scratch your neck as it speckles with heat. You don’t know what’s more insulting; yes or no.

“Can I think about it?” You ask thinly.

The line is quiet. You look at the screen and it goes dim from your idling. You hit the analog stick and fix your headphones.

“Jacob?” You murmur.

“Sure, think about it,” he says, his voice raspy and rocky. It’s strange. You’ve seen him in pictures and his voice doesn’t really match his appearance. He sounds a lot older than he looks. “It’s next month so lots of time.”

“I’m sorry,” you cringe. “I just wouldn’t want to waste your money.”

“Trust me, it wouldn’t be a waste,” he insists, “this last year has sucked. So much. You got me through it all.” His microphone scuffs, “studying, exams, all that stuff. It’s tough making new friends. Seems like everyone here knows each other from high school.”

“Yeah, totally,” you agree.

You’re not exactly the most popular person. You have people you know in each class but not too many friends you hang out with outside the lecture hall or library. So far, not too many people want to spend hours mining digital gold or racing cartoon characters around a rainbow track.

“Well, you should probably get some sleep,” you yawn, “you got your big exam and... I gotta keep packing. Gotta catch the greyhound tomorrow night.”

“Sure, uh, yeah, right,” his disappointment is potent, “hey, will you text me when you get home? Just so I know you made it.” He snorts, “god, I sound like my dad right now.”

“Oh, of course,” you chirp back, “I’ll try to remember. Might be late.”

“That’s fine. Just as long as you let me know.”

“Don’t worry about me,” you assure him, “not ‘til I have to face my grandma. Ha.”

“Yeah, good luck with that,” he says, “well... er...”

“Good night,” you finish for him, “let me know how the exam goes too.”

“Will do,” his timbre gets even lower, “night.”

You sign off and shut down the console. Another yawn flows through you and waters in your eyes. You should sleep, you got a long day waiting for you, but you know it won’t be easy. Not with so much on your mind, not least of all, Jacob’s invitation.

🎮

You text Jacob as you get on the bus, to make sure he doesn’t worry. It’s so sweet that he does, even some of your girlfriends don’t bother that much. Not that you mind the ‘hey, bitch’ Janet sends you every now and again to make sure you’re still alive.

You fall asleep on the bus. You’ve never been one to sleep while travelling but you’re exhausted from a night of anxious tossing and turning. After spending all day packing up the last of your things and scouring your dorm room, you’re beat to hell.

It’s midnight as you get to your grandmother’s house. She’s up reading another Stephen King classic in her rocking chair. She’s always been a night owl and a voracious book hound. She grumbles at you but doesn’t bother to ask how your trip was.

“Hey, grandma,” you hike up your bag and smile.

She growls again, eyes not leaving the page. You should know better by now not to interrupt her. You shoulder on and head down to the spare room where you spent most of your high-school career. You shut the door gently as the old hardwood floors creak with your weight and you drop your bag on the squeaky bed.

You fish out your phone and plug it in as the battery flashes red with only two percent left. You leave it on the night table and stretch out, not bothering to change out of your hoodie and jeans. It’s not long before you descend back into the same dreams that marked your journey home.

You wake up to buzzing. Your phone shakes the nightstand, rattling it against the bed frame. You groan and roll onto your side, reaching blindly for offending object. You hit the side button to dismiss the call.

You blink away the bleariness and focus on the screen. Along with the missed call are several text messages. You squint as you expand the notifications. Jacob! You forgot to message.

‘Hey, you home?’

‘Checking in. Must be busy getting settled in. Just let me know when you’re safe.’

‘Not meaning to be weird but everything okay?’

‘Please answer me. I’m worried.’

You drag your thumb around the keyboard, letting it predict your words; ‘sorry! I was so tired. Home now and safe 😊'

Three dots pop up then swoop away. You frown as the same thing happens several times before a response appears.

‘Was really worried. Thanks for finally answering. Been up all night.’

You’re stunned by the terse response. Yeah, you forgot to answer but he doesn’t need to worry that much. You frown and shift onto your side.

‘Srry again. Tired. Talk in morning. Night.’

You turn your phone on silent and plug it back into the cord. You do feel bad but you’re too exhausted to let it keep you up. Besides, you need your sleep. You have lots of job hunting to do in the morning. Not to mention, your grandmother to face.

🎮

You let Jacob cool down after your return home. Rather, he doesn’t text and you’re too distracted to do the same. As much as you’d like to sit around and game, your grandmother was as disappointed as you expected with your employment status, even when you gave her the money you had left in your emergency fund.

After a week, you finally get a bite. It’s nothing special. There’s a seasonal ice cream shop in a booth shaped like a vanilla cone that needs a cashier on weeknights. It’s less than full time hours but it’s better than nothing. It will be strange working with high school juniors but you can’t afford to be picky.

‘Game tonight?’ The text interrupts your first shift. You don’t have a chance to answer as a family approaches the window to order.

You get them the soft serve and take their payment, bidding them a good evening with their vanilla points already drooping in the summer heat. You glance around at the mostly empty picnic tables. Soccer practice will end soon and you’ll be overloaded with eight-year-olds.

‘Srry. New job. 1st shift. Maybe tmrw.’

‘New job? Congrats. Why didn’t you tell me?’

You sigh.

‘Time got ahead of me.’

‘Same. Catch up tomorrow then. Minecraft?’

‘Sure. Tmrw.’

You slip your phone away. A mother and daughter approach and ask for a sundae and a banana split. As much as you love ice cream, working with it hasn’t tested your cravings very much. In fact, you might be falling out of love with it. The smell of vanilla and overly sweetened strawberries is kind of gross when it’s all you breathe.

As you watch the happy customers walk away, you smile. Maybe it will be good to get some mining done. It will take your mind off of everything else. Hell, it might even make you feel like you’re doing something useful.

🎮

“Shit, oh, sorry,” Jacob corrects himself. You always think it's kind of funny how he doesn’t like to swear. “My diamond armor.”

“Oh no,” you utter, “where are you? I’ll grab your stuff.”

He gives his coordinates and you turn around, leaping over the green blocks to make your way there. Despite your reticence at the beginning, you’re feeling better about the session. He wasn’t as tense as he seemed in his texts.

“So, uh, did you think about the con?” Jacob asks.

“The con? I almost forgot. When is it?”

He gives the dates and you hum. Your chest flutters at the thought still. You’re not stupid. Meeting people IRL is not like online, no matter how many hours you’ve mined together. As much as you enjoy chatting with Jacob, you don’t know about meeting up.

“I get it if you can’t get the time off but my offer still stands to cover the trip. If you wanna stay the night, I’ll even get an airBnB.”

“Oh, wow, that’s a lot. I’m working now. I could put in,” you offer.

“Is that a yes?” He asks hopefully.

“I don’t know... I mean, I’ll have to look into it,” you say evasively. “Talk to my boss and grandma and all that.”

“Right, right,” he tries to sound unbothered, “makes sense. Of course, no pressure. How about I send you the ticket either way? Haven’t got anyone else to bite.”

“Oh, well, hold off, I wouldn’t want to take it and not use it,” you collect his weapons and armor from the ground in the game.

It’s silent as you focus on getting every little thing.

“Sorry, did I freak you out?” He asks, “I’m really not trying to pressure you, just got excited thinking about it.”

“I know, Jacob, it’s not that, it’s just... a lot.”

“Totally get it,” he intones, “let me know whenever you got an answer. Uh, where are you? I’m tryna find you.”

“Just stay there, I'll come back to the house,” you assure him, happy to focus on the game instead.

Still, you can’t entirely lose yourself in it. You’re sure he’s a nice guy. From pictures, he’s less than scary, and he’s never been anything but friendly. It’s not like the other dudes you meet online who jump to asking about your bra size and all that. It just isn’t smart.

Well, maybe if you don’t show up alone. You know what con he’s talking about and Kara from Econ lives near there. You could probably convince her to meet up. Hm, that might work.

Just like you told him, you’ll have to think about it.

#andy barber #dark andy barber #dark!andy barber #andy barber x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #end game #series #defending jacob

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leclercsainzz · 1 year

Note

hey hun!

could you write a smau with actress!reader x charles where charles is literally whipped for his gf and maybe reader is in the new barbie movie and he can’t stop talking about how proud he is and stuff like that and the fans and other drivers make fun of how whipped he is

thx xx 🩷

INTO YOU

PAIRINGS: charles leclerc x actress!reader

TYPE: social media au

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, carlossainz55 and 518,028 others

yourusername: pretty in pink! 🩷

view 7,929 comments

charles_leclerc: you look mesmerizing

charles_leclerc: baby, you are looking gorgeous 😍

charles_leclerc: forever proud of you!

↳ yourusername: i love youuuu <33

user: the way he hype’s her up, i cannot 😭

↳ user: i need me a man like that ASAP

francisca.cgomes: stunning!!

isahernaez: obsessed with you and your beauty 😩

↳ charles_leclerc: same!

carlossainz55: i cannot stop looking at these - charles

↳ carlossainz55: yn, come get your man! he keeps refreshing this post every 5 seconds just to comment

↳ sebastianvettel: what is it that teens say nowadays? ah, yes .. he’s WHIPPED!

user: you’re so pretty, I CAN’T 😭

user: how does charles get this beauty all to himself?!??

user: call me charles cause i’m also a simp for you 😌

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, dualipa and 540,619 others

yourusername: this barbie is a certified genius #thebarbiemovie

view 8,510 comments

user: tuRN IT UP, WE’VE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS ONE!! 🔥

charles_leclerc: so proud of you, my love!! ❤️

user: screaming, crying, throwing up .. can’t wait!!

charles_leclerc: the prettiest barbie ever!

↳ yourusername: my biggest fan 😘

dualipa: you’re a real beauty!

user: she truly is barbie and then there’s charles

↳ user: she’s everything, he’s just ken

user: charles is one lucky ass man, i swear 😭

↳ charles_leclerc: that i am:)

↳ user: i hope you know how to fight

lewishamilton: charles sent this to the group chat and DEMANDED we all watch this

↳ user: ooh, to be in this gc

user: i cannot wait to watch this!!

charles_leclerc and yourusername

liked by yourusername, arthur_leclerc and 683,893 others

charles_leclerc: first of all i want to start of by saying happy 3 year anniversary, chéri!! with all that you’ve accomplished over the years, i can’t help but be immensely proud of you and your hard work .. i’m glad to have you around and blessing my life in ways you’d never imagine … thank you for being my biggest supporter and lightning up my mood every chance you get! i love you will all my heart, baby!! ❤️

tagged: @yourusername

view 8,841 comments

yourusername: omg, you’re making me cry:(

yourusername: thank you, bby! I LOVE YOU SO MUCH ❤️

user: i’m noT crying, you are

carlossainz55: please tell me yn bought that t-shirt for you

↳ charles_leclerc: if it helps you sleep at night then yes

maxverstappen1: that t-shirt, mate 💀 someone’s WHIPPED

lewishamilton: confirmed: charles is yn’s biggest fan

↳ pierregasly: 😭😭 not even yn’s fans are this obsessed

↳ carlossainz55: the BIGGEST simp out there

user: the waY the other drivers are coming for him 😂

user: cRYING OMG 😭

user: the way they’re each other’s biggest supporter 😩

danielricciardo: i was about to comment “cute” until i saw the last picture you posted ….

↳ user: danny, please 💀 let the man live

yoursername

liked by charles_leclerc, estebanocon and 548,792 others

yourusername: european premiere in london for barbie & race week officially completed ✔️❤️

view 6,847 comments

user: the way she went to support him even though she had to attend the premiere later on 😭

↳ user: don’t forget he attended the premiere with her too

↳ user: smh, and i can’t even get a respond

charles_leclerc: forever proud of you!! ❤️

↳ yourusername: back at you;) 😘

user: meanwhile my bf can’t do the bare minimum

user: they’re the reason i believe in love, i swear 😩🤍

danielricciardo: did you tell margot robbie i love her?

↳ yourusername: of course!! (charles sent you a vid)

user: every couple wishes they were them

carlossainz55: meanwhile charles leclerc starstruck by his own girlfriend at the premiere

↳ maxverstappen1: he’s acting as if he doesn’t live with her and sees her 24/7 💀

↳ yourusername: 😭 i can’t with ya’ll

yourusername and charles_leclerc

liked by charles_leclerc, lewishamilton and 586,931 others

yourusername: get you someone who looks at you and appreciates you the way he does!! 😚

tagged: @charles_leclerc

view 7,629 comments

charles_leclerc: i’m addicted to you

↳ yourusername: me @ you 😩

charles_leclerc: i can never take my eyes off you, you’re too gorgeous, baby!!

charles_leclerc: you make me blush 🤭

↳ lewishamilton: confirmed: charles is the #1 simp

user: theY’RE MY PARENTS, yA’lL

user: the way he looks at her with such love 😭 i CANNOT

pierregasly: obsessive fan behavior, if you ask me

carlossainz55: i guess this is cute

↳ yourusername: guess???!??

↳ carlossainz55: it’s cute

user: this mf is sooo whipped!!!

↳ user: he’s just like me 💁🏻‍♀️

user: he better know how to fight cause i’m gonna steal his girl

↳ charles_leclerc: for the girl i love, absolutely

↳ user: mY HEART JUST MELTED WTF 😭

user: they say love is dead, but these two proved me wrong

2K notes · View notes

zepskies · 6 months

Text

Take Me Home - Part 3

Pairing: Beau Arlen x F. Reader

Summary: You are another lost soul at Sunny Day Excursions. You’re aiming to settle in Helena, Montana, where Beau Arlen is the new sheriff in town. But you’ve both got a past you’re running from.

AN: I’m being continuously blown away by your lovely responses on this story. Thank you so much! I truly appreciate all the love for our cowboy sheriff and where TMH is going.

Word Count: 6.6K

Tags/Warnings: Angst, hurt/comfort, a heart-to-heart, flirtations, and invitations taken…

❤️ Series Masterlist

Part 3: Welcome Home

In the next twenty-four hours after Mary was found, the police’s investigation led them to a man named Walter. He’d been living in the woods, and was suspected of stalking the camp for days.

He was arrested as a prime suspect in Mary’s murder at Sunny Day Excursions, along with Paige’s; even though they’d yet to find her body, the police did confirm that she'd never made it home to New York.

They also found Luke later that night. His body was pierced to a tree by an archer’s arrow.

The campers were sent home shortly after Walter was arrested.

And three days later, your aunt Denise gingerly took a seat on the edge of the couch you’d been lying in all day (and all week so far). She swept her fingers over your greasy hair in both comfort and affection.

Denise Brisbane was your mom’s sister. She was a private investigator here in Helena. And as you found out, she actually worked with Cassie Dewell, the woman you’d met at the camp, who was still in search of a missing backpacker.

“You’ve barely moved in days, honey,” Denise said.

Her face was sympathetic and sad, watching you. Though you felt the sting of guilt, feeling like a burden that had just been unloaded on your aunt, you didn’t want to leave your warm blankets. Your body felt heavy and useless.

“Good news though. The rest of your stuff ships in tomorrow,” she said, continuing to pet your hair. “I’ll help you move into your new apartment. How does that sound?”

You gave a weak nod. “Thanks.”

She sighed. “I’m not trying to kick you out, hun. I just think it’ll be good for you to start getting on your feet.”

You agreed, wordlessly. In your head, you knew she was right. You couldn’t sleep on her couch forever, and perhaps more importantly, you couldn’t let this beat you down forever.

“You sure you don’t want to talk about it?” Denise asked, squeezing your shoulder. “Your mom wanted to get the first flight out here, but I told her I’d take care of you until you go home for the funeral.”

You were grateful for that. As much as you loved your mother, you didn’t want to be smothered right now. Your mom’s version of comfort could only include a heavy dose of smothering. The one thing you had been able to do was call Mary’s parents.

That had been a long and painful conversation. After which, you slept like the dead for two days straight.

Denise broke you out of your wandering thoughts when she handed you a business card. It had a banyan tree emblazoned on it, along with the name of a grief counseling center.

“Cassie’s actually been going here, and she’s liked it so far,” she said.

At your furrowed look of confusion, she added, “Look, it’s okay if you don’t want to talk to me, but I think it would be good for you to talk to someone. Maybe someone who understands what you’re going through.”

You sighed and flipped the card through your fingers. You really, really didn’t want to go. You could already what your father would say if he knew you went to a grief counselor. His form of “therapy” was the growing collection of bourbon behind his desk.

But if it meant you’d stop being a lump in your aunt’s living room, then maybe you could give it a shot.

“Okay,” you nodded. Your voice was a bit coarse with disuse. Denise gave you a smile, and a warm hug that felt like home. She even offered to make your appointment for you.

You were a little annoyed though. Now you’d have to actually get up and put on a bra.

“Maybe shower first, huh?” she advised, while she helped you get up.

“Yeah, yeah,” you replied.

A hot shower, washing and styling your hair, putting real clothes on, and overall making yourself presentable actually made you feel human again. You even surprised yourself by putting on a bit of makeup.

Once you made it to the grief counseling center in your car, however, you sat in the parking lot for a minute. You had to take a moment to breathe. Because you knew you were going to be asked what happened. You were going to have to get into it all over again.

Even after you were able to leave your car and brave through the carpeted halls of the building, your hands were shaking. At the reception desk, an older woman directed you down another long hallway to the group session. It was the only one available on short notice, but she promised that if you found the session helpful, she could help you book another group session, or even a solo session.

You weren’t sure if you were ready for “solo,” but a group appealed to you. Maybe you could just sit in the back and let the others talk.

The counselor, Tom, greeted you when you walked into the right room. It was a small room with a bunch of chairs formed in a circle at the center. No room to hide, you thought with growing unease. You glanced over and saw that there were a few people already milling about, making small talk in a cluster near the circle.

“We’re gonna start here in a few minutes, but until then, you can take a seat,” said Tom. “There’s also coffee and cookies over there, if you like.”

Coffee. Coffee was warm, and it might settle your nerves and help you perk up a bit. You thanked him and went for the carafes on a small table in the back. You poured some coffee into a Styrofoam cup and poured a little sugar and creamer into it, but after you took an experimental sip, you immediately regretted it.

Tastes like damn soil water! You made a grossed out sound and spat it back into your cup.

“Yeah, wouldn’t recommend the joe,” drawled a familiar voice.

You turned sharply to find Sheriff Beau Arlen. He gave you a sympathetic look as he reached for a cup of water. Seeing him took you by such surprise, you gasped with a slight flinch, accidentally spilling some scalding coffee on yourself in the process.

You held the cup away from you fast, but a few drops still flecked on your jeans, and even his boots.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry,” you gasped again. Beau just smiled good-naturedly and grabbed a few napkins off the table.

“It’s all right,” he said. “I’m the one who snuck up on you. Accidentally, I might add.”

He handed you the napkins so you could soak up the coffee from your hand and arm. Meanwhile, he took your half-empty coffee cup and tossed it in the garbage. Your damp wad of napkins joined the cup.

And when you finally looked up at him again, you both found yourselves smiling, despite where you were. It was the first time you’d been able to smile in days.

“Sheriff Arlen,” you greeted. “I did not expect to see you here…”

His smile faltered at that, but his hand reached back to sort through his short hair at the back of his head.

“Ah, call me Beau,” he said. “I have a feeling we’re about to get to know each other better.”

You agreed to that, just as you agreed to join him for a seat within the circle of chairs. He leaned back in his chair and swept a hand through his hair again, perhaps in a nervous gesture. You glanced over at him, saw the way he smoothed a hand down his jeans when his knee started bouncing…

Could he be as anxious as you? You had to wonder why he was here, for grief counseling of all things. The thought sobered you as more people filtered in and took their seats. Tom eventually got things started from his spot across from you in the circle.

“Okay, we’ve got a couple of first timers to this group session, so tell you what,” he said. “Let’s go around, introduce ourselves, and share something interesting. Whether it’s what you do for a living, a new hobby you picked up, or keeping it even more simple, something fun you did this week.”

You looked down at the folded hands in your lap. If binge watching entire seasons of Succession and sleeping until noon every day counted as something fun, then you were all set.

The introductions started to his left, so it took a while before it got around to you. There was that little flutter of nerves in your stomach, like you were a kid again, and it was the first day of school (but worse).

Luckily, Beau was before you. You were curious about what he would share as he let out a subtle clearing of his throat.

“Hi there, I’m Beau Arlen. Some of you know me as the new sheriff over at Helena PD.” He greeted everyone with a short wave, though he tossed you a smiling glance. “You might also be able to tell that I’m from Texas. Born and bred in Houston. I moved up here to stay close to my daughter, who’s living here with her mother…my ex-wife.”

He tacked on that last bit after a slight pause. But he recovered quicker than you could process and gestured to you next. You forced yourself to perk up, putting your “teacher’s hat” on as you tried to meet everyone’s eyes. First, you gave them your name.

“I’m also from out of town, from Chicago,” you said, glancing at Beau. His expression was encouraging. It gave you the small boost you didn’t know you needed. “I’m a college professor, formerly of the University of Chicago…but I start at Caroll College in the fall.”

Beau’s brows rose as his lips twitched upwards. You tried not to blush as you passed on the introductions to the next person.

The session itself was light overall. Tom talked about the stress that often came with the unknown—with moving past a challenging time, or tackling a new project, or even moving to a new and unfamiliar city. He didn’t force everyone to chime in about themselves, but the ones who were ready to share took the floor one by one. And by the end, you thought that you’d gleaned some useful tidbits just by listening.

Hell, maybe you’d even come back here.

When the session was over though, you were kind of relieved. You grabbed your purse and got up to leave.

“Well, that was relatively painless,” Beau said, also getting up from his seat.

“Yeah, wasn’t so bad,” you replied. Your name fell from his lips in the form of a question, earning your expectant gaze.

“Listen, uh, can I buy you a real cup of coffee?” he offered. “We might not have met under the best of circumstances, but I just heard recently that you’re Denise’s niece. Well, I’m friends with the gals over at Dewell & Hoyt, your aunt included, so I just thought it’d be good to get to know each other, being that we’re both kinda new in town, and—”

You set a light hand on his arm. That one touch was able to stop his rambling, along with the sight of your amused smile up at him.

“Coffee sounds great,” you said.

You decided there was no real harm in meeting him at the nearest coffee shop, just a few minutes away.

It was hard not to associate the sheriff with that terrible night at the camp, but you knew that wasn’t fair to him. He seemed like a nice guy, and by the way he talked about his daughter, maybe even a good man.

In your experience, a good man was hard to find.

“So, what do you teach exactly?” Beau asked. He’d just finished telling you about Emily starting a summer internship with Cassie and Denise at the private investigation agency. Like father like daughter, you’d remarked. Beau’s soft, but proud smile had been telling.

“English literature,” you replied to his question, sipping at your cappuccino. He was drinking a hot French vanilla latte, which kind of amused you. You had expected him to order an Americano or something.

“Oh, yeah? What sort of classes?” he said.

“The greatest hits, basically,” you explained. “Composition, English grammar, Shakespeare…Twentieth Century British Literature.”

“Oh, is that all?” he chuckled. It charmed a smile out of you.

“I don’t know why I asked. I didn’t even go to college,” Beau said. It finally succeeded in making you laugh.

“Straight to the police academy, then?” you asked.

“Like a cannonball, heels a blazin’,” he said, miming a gunshot with his hand.

“Like a rhinestone cowboy,” you teased. And you felt brave enough to hum the riff of the Glen Campbell song.

Beau shook his head with a grin. He’d seen you, all tightened up and anxious throughout the group session, even though it had been pretty lightweight. He could relate to your discomfort. He’d made a conscious effort to talk very little about himself and gave the others the room to tell their stories.

Beau liked seeing you more relaxed though. He liked your smile, the glimpses of your sense of humor shining through. He liked that he was somehow able to bring that out of you for a while.

“I still can’t believe you're Denise’s niece,” he said, once again shaking his head. “What a small world.”

“Yeah. I’ve been crashing on her couch for the past week,” you admitted. “But I have the rest of summer to settle into my new apartment, starting tomorrow. I’ve got my whole life shipping in on a truck.”

Beau nodded at that. He contemplated whether it’d be appropriate for him to offer you some help with that. The question was on the tip of his tongue, until he saw the way your mood saddened. You sat contemplating your coffee mug.

“I asked her to come,” you confessed. When your eyes met his, they shone with the beginning of unshed tears. “The camping trip was Mary’s idea, but I asked her to come with me to Helena for the week. She wouldn’t have been there if it wasn’t for me.”

Beau let out a deep breath and met you with a more somber, understanding gaze.

“It wasn’t your fault,” he said. He was reminded that they had Walter in custody. He wasn’t yet willing to break and confess to the murders at Sunny Day Excursions, but they had him.

“I promise, we’ll get justice for Mary,” Beau added. You sighed and wiped a tear from your cheek.

“Do you think you have the right man?” you asked, speaking of Walter.

“I do,” Beau replied. “He’s being stubborn, but all the evidence points to him.”

You nodded gratefully, but you had to try and breathe through your tumultuous emotions, the way your heart was cracking with pain. You didn’t want to break down in the middle of a damn coffee shop.

Again, Beau wrestled with the inclination to cover his hand over yours. He felt like he was toeing the line between his professional capacity as a sheriff, and the fact that you were his friend’s niece. He wanted to comfort you the best he could. But sometimes, words just weren’t enough.

You took a half-hearted sip of your coffee. By now, it was lukewarm, if still tasty and sweet. It was healthier than whiskey, you supposed.

“She was like…like my sister, you know?” you said. “I feel like I failed her.”

Beau shook his head, his dark brows furrowing. He didn’t know how many times he could say it wasn’t your fault, knowing you probably wouldn’t ever believe it.

That struck a familiar bell.

“Look, I uh…I understand what you’re going through,” he admitted. Your watery gaze found his again. Your head tilted in interest.

He sighed before answering your unspoken question. “I lost my partner on the job, now a couple years back.”

“I’m sorry,” you replied, and your sympathy was as genuine as his had been for you. “I’m guessing you two were close.”

Beau’s lips quirked at one corner. “He was like my brother. Matter of fact, I think it used to make my own brother jealous.”

You processed that with a sad frown, though your brows soon rose in curiosity.

“You have a brother?”

“Yep,” Beau nodded. The brief shadows in his eyes lifted at the merciful change of topic. “Good ole’ David. I still call him Davey, even though he hates it.”

A smile played on your lips. “Older or younger?”

“Younger, by a few years,” he replied. There was a more natural gleam to his smile then. “He’s a hotshot doctor back in Houston.”

He teased, but you could see there was pride behind his eyes. It reminded you of the way he got whenever he talked about Emily.

“So you know my story. What brought you to Montana?” he asked. He wanted to see if he could help you get your mind off Mary. He didn’t know that he’d just pulled the pin on a whole other grenade.

You let out a wry chuckle.

“Uh, oh,” Beau said warily.

You nodded. He did tell you his story—ex-wife with a new husband, daughter, a new job in Montana—though you still didn’t know why he was going to grief counseling. If it was because of his partner, you could understand that…but you also didn’t want to pry.

You also knew it was only fair to answer his question.

“It’s not exactly like your situation but…I was engaged,” you said at last.

Past tense, he noted.

“Good guy?” he asked.

“A firefighter,” you replied. Though you knew well the rivalry that sometimes existed between cops and firefighters. Beau’s growing bemusement told you he was thinking along the same lines.

“Ah, a smoke eater, huh?” But his smile faded. “Did something happen to him on the job?”

“No,” you said, again with that weary chuckle. It was hard for you to get this out, but you’d been wrestling with it for over six months, damn near a year. It was enough.

“Just a couple months before the wedding, I found out he’d been cheating on me with his college girlfriend…pretty much throughout our whole relationship,” you said.

Though you promised yourself that you’d never cry over this again, today had already been incredibly difficult. The tears came, and you couldn’t stop them.

Beau's brows had risen high in surprise. Then, a deeper sympathy settled in his eyes.

“Jesus. How long?” he asked.

“We were together three years, engaged for about another one,” you said. “Almost four years of my life, just…”

You mimed a puff of smoke blowing out of your hand.

“Yeah. I know the feeling,” Beau said. His tone was wry as he dragged a hand over his beard. You gave him an apologetic look.

“I’m sorry. I know my story doesn’t compare with a marriage,” you said.

“That’s not what I was gettin’ at,” he replied. “But I get it. You start to think, what the hell was it all for? …Except for my daughter.”

“Yeah. Unfortunately, I don’t have an Emily,” you said. At the same time though, you were very glad you never had kids with that man.

Beau frowned when he saw the way your face fell further, becoming distant, and lost in old memories.

“Afterwards, I…I checked out, you know? I could barely focus on my students, my family, my friends.” Your nails drummed on the countertop. You shook your head as it all filtered through your mind again. “But the last straw was that my dad tried to get me to work things out with him, and I just…I lost it. Beau, I absolutely lost my shit.”

Beau grimaced. “What made your dad think that would work?”

“He’s a retired firehouse chief,” you said, with a purse of your lips. “He’s always had a soft spot for Michael.”

“Michael, huh?” Beau quirked a brow. “That come with a last name?”

You shot him a look of amusement.

“What, are you going to run his LUDS?” you joked, but you couldn’t prevent a sniffle as a new wave of emotion threatened an upswell.

You felt pathetic. This man was the whole-ass sheriff of this town. He probably had more important things to do than listen to you complain about your imploded relationship. But you were also Denise’s niece. Maybe he just felt sorry for you.

He offered you a napkin. “Sorry it’s not a tissue.”

In his eyes though, you didn’t see pity. Just kindness.

“It’s okay. I can brave a scratchy napkin,” you said, laughing a little. “But after that, I knew one of two things was going to happen. Either I was going to break open my dad’s gun safe and shoot the bastard in the ass, or I had to get the hell out of Chicago. My mom and Aunt Denise suggested I come here for a visit, just to clear my head. That turned into scoping out jobs, and then apartments… Now I’m here.”

That fell between you for a moment as your companion processed it all. In hindsight, you probably shouldn’t have mentioned that whole bit about possibly shooting your ex, but he took it in stride.

“Well, for what it’s worth, I’m glad you are,” Beau said. “Here, that is.”

You couldn’t help but blush; at his words, the deep green of his eyes, and the sincerity of his smile.

“Likewise, Sheriff,” you said.

He smirked. “Also glad you didn’t go shootin’ people in the ass.”

You covered your face and laughed.

Beau walked you to your car like the gentleman he was, even though it was only late afternoon. You opened the driver’s side door, but you lingered there. You turned back to him, curling a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Thanks for the coffee, and for letting me ramble, and vent, and soak up a few dozen napkins,” you said. You laughed a little in embarrassment, but he waved it off.

“It wasn’t as bad as all that, but good luck movin’ into your apartment tomorrow,” he said. Then it was his turn to hesitate. “If you need some help with that, just let me know.”

You blinked, mouth parting in soft surprise.

“Oh, thank you but…I don’t want to trouble you,” you said.

“You wouldn’t be. That’s why I offered,” he replied, smiling down at you in a way that had you melting a little bit more. “I’ve got an early shift tomorrow, but after, I could probably pull in Cassie. Maybe even Jenny, if she’s up for it. She’s one of our deputies at the PD.”

Beau recognized your hesitance.

“It wouldn’t be any trouble, I promise,” he said, holding a hand over his heart. “We’ve gotta welcome you to the neighborhood, don’t we?”

You were still a little unsure, but you agreed to it with a thank you, along with a more shy, sweet smile.

Beau liked that smile too.

Later that day, Beau remembered it was his turn to host the ritual movie night Friday with Cassie and Jenny. His trailer was too small to have it inside, so they set up Cassie’s projector out in front, by the fire. According to his friends, he was going about the night with too much cheer.

“You’re entirely too smiley to have just come from an afternoon of therapy,” Jenny pointed out. She uncapped her second beer, then passed him the bucket. He waved her off; he was still nursing his first beer of the night. If he stuck to his plan, then it’d be his only beer of the night.

“Aw, it wasn’t so bad, actually,” he said. He explained that you had been there at the group session. The moment your name was mentioned, Cassie and Jenny both raised their brows.

“Really?” Cassie remarked.

“Yeah. Losing her friend really shook her up. Understandably,” Beau said. His gaze lowered when he played through his afternoon with you in his mind. Though your situations were different, both in your lost friends and lost relationships, he realized just how much he’d understood and connected with a near stranger.

That kind of thing didn’t happen to him often, if ever before.

“But, she’s actually moving into her new place tomorrow,” he added, breaking himself out of his own head. “Speakin’ of, would you two have the time to help her and Denise out? I already said I would come by after shift tomorrow.”

Cassie and Jenny shared a certain look—the kind these women donned when they were having a private conversation with just their eyes. This time, it seemed to be about him.

“What?” he asked, his hands spreading wide.

“Nothing,” Cassie said, smiling. “Sure, I can come.”

“Yeah,” Jenny agreed, “barring nothing too crazy happens on shift.”

Beau inclined his head. “Knock on wood there. Anyway, what’re we watching?”

“Crazy, Stupid Love,” Jenny grinned, holding up the DVD cover. “For Ryan Gosling, of course.”

Beau rolled his eyes.

A few months ago, he wouldn’t have expected that he’d make friends with exclusively women in this town, but he only complained about it in times like these.

Though as it turned out, he enjoyed the movie. There were as many hilarious scenes as there were poignant ones. By the end of the night though, he was beat.

Jenny helped with the cleanup, but she ended up taking off first. It left Beau to put away the fold-up chairs with Cassie.

“So, tell me,” she said, in a leading tone and with a teasing smile. “You crushing on Glamper Girl for real now?”

Beau shot her a wry look.

“She’s not a glamper anymore,” he pointed out. “And I’m not crushing like some teenager. I just want to help her out. She’s been through a lot…and she’s Denise’s family. It’s just the right thing to do.”

Cassie laughed. “That’s a lot of over-explaining you’re doing right there, but okay, Beau.”

He rolled his eyes, but he had to smile. “Okay, that’s it. I’m gonna have to insist you get off my property.”

“Off what, your tin can?” she retorted.

“Hey! She can hear you.”

Beau wiped the sweat from his brow strategically while he carried his end (the heavier end, he might add) of your couch. He and Jenny were trying to get it up the stairwell to your apartment on the second floor.

“Okay now, just pivot on this corner,” he instructed. “Pivot!”

Jenny nearly dropped her end out of sheer aggravation. Her blue eyes cut down to his.

“If you say pivot one more time, I’m gonna shoot you,” she snapped.

Beau whistled in amusement. “Threatening to shoot the sheriff. Now that’s at least a misdemeanor.”

Right as he could almost see the fumes coming out of his deputy’s ears, you hustled up the stairs to help them. You picked up the middle to make it easier.

“Okay, we can do this! I think we can just tip it on its side to get it around the corner,” you said.

To everyone’s relief, your suggestion worked. Denise held the door open while the three of you got the couch up to the second floor, then into your apartment. Once the couch was successfully in the living room, you went to the kitchen and grabbed a few bottles of water out of the fridge. You handed one each to Beau and Jenny.

“Thank you guys again so much for doing this,” you said, still catching your breath. You surveyed all the boxes and furniture you all had brought in, and you realized you were crazy to think you and Denise could’ve done all of this by yourselves.

“It’s our pleasure,” Beau nodded. He gestured to his sweating face and neck. “But do you have a towel or a rag or something? You’re about to be mopping me off the floor in a minute.”

“Yeah, of course. Hold on,” you said. You went back into the kitchen and retrieved a clean hand towel. Beau used it to dry his face, neck, and the top of his chest.

You tried not to stare at the flash of tan skin near the collar of his plain gray shirt, or the wet spots clinging to his back. The sleeves were tight around his arms and across his chest, leading you to believe that despite being in his mid-forties, he kept himself in shape.

Meanwhile, Jenny drank her water, and pretended not to notice you staring at her boss. Part of her was amused, but a good part of her felt an unfamiliar sting as well.

“Okay,” Beau clapped a hand on his jean-clad thigh after he drained his own water bottle. “What’s next?”

Your face warmed, because you knew what your aunt was about to say before she said it.

“Oh, I think it’s just your bed, right honey?” she asked you.

“All right, let’s do it. Frame, headboard, box spring, and mattress, I assume,” Beau said, rubbing his sweaty hands together. He stretched his arms in preparation.

Again, you had to admire the way his shirt pulled across his tall, broad frame. But you followed after him when he started heading out the door.

“Wait, you shouldn’t do it by yourself!” you called out, and quickly followed after him.

Denise shot Jenny and Cassie a highly amused look.

“That's what she saaaid,” Denise sing-songed. The other two women grimaced.

“Wow. That’s your niece!” Cassie exclaimed.

“And technically my boss, thanks,” Jenny added.

“What, they’re cute, aren’t they?” Denise said, gesturing at the way you and Beau left.

“This from the woman who’s been lusting after that man since the minute he got into town,” Cassie retorted.

“Well, I’m woman enough to bow out when I’ve been thwarted. By my own blood no less,” Denise replied, but her mischievous smile said it all as she breezed back into the kitchen to start unpacking the silverware for you.

She knew for a fact that you’d made dinner for later—and not just because she’d told you how much Beau liked lasagna.

Beau accepted your help, along with Cassie and Jenny’s in bringing up all the parts of your bed. He just insisted on utilizing his own power tools to put it together.

That was how you found yourself holding the headboard up straight while Beau made sure the frame was aligned. It wasn’t as easy as it looked; the wood panels had to slide into the notch in the headboard just so, before he could start drilling the bolts back in.

“Damn it,” he muttered, when one panel of the frame nearly slipped out of his hand.

“Can you actually use that power drill?” Cassie asked. “Because you’re pretty hopeless with cars.”

Beau rolled his eyes, despite his smile. “Save the belittling for later. Tryin’ to concentrate.”

After a few more minutes of sweating, mild cursing, and internal praying, you, Beau, and Cassie managed to get the bedframe put together with the headboard. Then the box spring, and finally the mattress. It marked the official end of moving in.

While Beau, Cassie, and Jenny took a much-deserved rest sitting on the couch with a round of beers, you went to the kitchen where your aunt had already preheated the oven for you. Now you just needed to pull out the two massive pans of lasagna you’d prepared the night before—as a thank you for everyone who came to help you.

Denise sidled up to you and touched your arm to get your attention.

“Good job inviting our dear Beau to lift furniture for us,” she whispered, waggling her brows. You shot her a look and shushed her.

“Do you always flirt with him like this?” you asked incredulously.

“Well, I might have to do it less blatantly if he’s gonna keep playing Mr. White Knight for you,” she teased.

“He is not. He’s just…nice,” you whispered back. “So are Cassie and Jenny.”

Denise gave you an amused look. “Mhmm.”

You rolled your eyes and focused on getting dinner ready.

Within the hour, the five of you were sat at your new modest dining table between the kitchen and the living room, eating lasagna and drinking iced tea. Jenny and Beau had beers alongside them, and conversation drifted from how you intended to set up the apartment, to Cassie’s still open missing backpacker case.

The parents were even more worried now, saying it was out of character for him not to check in with a phone call, despite the email he’d apparently sent them a few days ago. Beau had agreed to give Cassie whatever help she needed on the periphery, especially if further evidence revealed itself on the backpacker’s whereabouts.

Beau was already on his second helping of lasagna when he raised his gaze to you, right across from him at the table.

“Clearly you get your cooking skills from your aunt, because this is fantastic,” he said.

Denise twittered. You blushed a little as you smiled.

“Thank you. I’m glad you like it.”

There was a short lull, filled by the tapping of silverware on plates, before Denise spoke up.

“By the way,” she said, looking to you and Beau. “Did you two have a productive time at grief counseling? What did you talk about?”

It was a well-meaning, but perhaps intrusive question. Both you and Beau tensed up. Cassie gave Denise a warning look.

“Oh, I’m sorry. You guys don’t have to answer that,” Denise amended.

“Um, it’s okay,” you replied. “It wasn’t too bad…I think I might go again.”

Beau had a warmer smile for you. “That’s good.”

You were able to return his smile. You turned to Cassie next.

“You went there for a while, right?” you asked. Cassie nodded.

“It was helpful,” she said. “I’m glad you’re getting something out of it.”

You took that with a nod, and returned your gaze to Beau.

“Have you been going there long?” you asked him.

He tilted his head. “Actually, yesterday was my first time too.”

Your eyes widened. “Oh, really?”

Cassie was intrigued at the way this little scene was playing out. Thought she caught the look on Jenny’s face while she watched it too. Like Jenny was studying them, not sure what to make of it all.

Beau wore a self-deprecating smile.

“Yeah. Just…hadn’t gotten around to it,” he answered you.

There was a heaviness in his voice and in his eyes that you didn’t miss, but you didn’t want to make him uncomfortable in a room full of people, even if they were his friends.

“Well, I’ll go again if you do,” you offered, a bit bolder than you felt. Beau met your eyes across the table, and his lips lifted at the corners.

“All right,” he said. “You got yourself a deal, miss ma’am.”

You fought against a blush rising up your neck. You glanced down and took a sip of your iced tea.

“Look at you. Pulling out your ‘sheriff’ voice,” Cassie teased.

“Like a rhinestone cowboy…” you sang into your glass. Your smile peeked out around the corners of it.

Most of the table laughed. Jenny smiled, but opted for drinking her beer.

Meanwhile, Beau gave you a mock look of betrayal. His true amusement shone through his eyes.

“I see how this is. Gang up on the Texan time,” he remarked.

That gave Cassie an opening to ask you something, and hopefully get to know you better. Already she had an instinct about you: she liked you. And clearly Beau seemed to as well. Cassie tended to be more cautious about people, even if you were Denise’s family.

“So how are you liking the Midwest so far?” Cassie asked you.

“So far? It’s the fresh air I needed,” you replied.

“Oh, you should check out that art studio you wanted to see,” Denise chimed in.

“You’re an artist too?” Beau asked, raising a brow. You chuckled.

“No, just an amateur with a handful of brushes,” you replied.

You remembered the peace you’d gotten while painting in sight of the mountains. But when you got to Denise’s house, you’d hidden away those canvases, not wanting to be reminded of that week at Sunny Day Excursions. And of Mary.

“Oh, but have you gone horseback riding yet?” Denise asked. “I know you were gonna try on your camping trip—”

You loved your aunt. You really did, but she also had a knack for putting her foot in her mouth. The others quieted as you dimmed at the actual mention of that God-forsaken place.

“I tried,” you said. “I never actually managed to make it on the horse.”

“Aw, well if you ever want to go, there’s a stable in town. They give lessons too,” Denise said.

You nodded and forced a smile. You went back to picking at the remnants of lasagna and salad on your plate.

When everyone began to filter out of your new apartment, each with their own set of well-wishing and a container of leftovers to take home, Beau ended up being last to leave. You had followed him to the door, where you handed him his tupperware of leftovers, and he thanked you in appreciation.

“Now I just need a microwave,” he said. “My toaster oven’s been on the fritz.”

Your brows rose in amusement. “You have a toaster oven, but not a microwave?”

“Well, let’s just say my trailer doesn’t exactly have a whole lot of space for appliances,” Beau replied, chuckling.

You smiled at that. You hesitated, but you eventually touched his hand that held the tupperware.

“Thank you again for coming here, for helping me…and for yesterday,” you said.

Beau almost didn’t realize it, but his face was getting warm. As warm as your pretty smile.

“Well, you’re very welcome,” he said. “And just puttin’ it out there, I may or may not have been riding a horse before I could walk. First memory I have is my dad putting me on Old Bess when I was four. She nearly kicked me off…not that that would happen to you. I’m just saying—”

“I see.” Your giggle ended with a smirk. Beau tended to ramble. You weren’t sure if it was a nervous tick, or just a facet of his upbeat personality…but you found it endearing.

He leveled you with a grin. “Listen, what I mean to say is, if you’re serious about wanting to learn how to ride, I could teach you. It’s not that hard.”

You bit your lip, mentally beginning to weigh out the pros and cons. To be honest, you still had reservations, both on riding a horse, and on Beau being the one to teach you. Was he just being nice, your “friendly neighborhood sheriff,” or was your aunt onto something?

…You weren’t sure, but your instincts told you that at the very least, you could trust him with this. And trust had become hard for you to give any man.

“Okay, cowboy. Let’s ride,” you said. And you even surprised yourself with the flirtatious note in your voice.

Beau’s grin kicked up a notch. You then exchanged numbers so you could hash out the details of when and where to meet sometime soon. Hopefully soon.

Then you wished him a good night.

“G’night, darlin’,” he said. He lingered in the hallway for a parting grin. “And welcome home.”

Your answering smile warmed him, long after he left your door.

AN: *rubs hands together* We're really getting into it now. 😂 Finally we have the big reveal of why she left Chicago, and the start of her and Beau's bond. You'll see more of that, and of Emily, in the next chapter...

Next Time:

You gasped and gripped even tighter with your thighs. With almost everything you had.

You were still far too unsteady for comfort on this damn horse. The poor animal whinnied, tossing his head back with a huff. Unfortunately, that just made you tense up even more as you held onto his neck.

Beau tried not to laugh. You looked like a cat clinging to the edge of a bath.

“Okay, you needa relax a little,” he said. “He ain’t gonna buck you, long as you don’t give him a reason to.”

You shot him a narrowed look.

▶️ Keep Reading: PART 4

Ko-Fi Me ☕

Series Masterlist

Big Sky Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Series Tag List (Part 1):

@kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb @roseblue373 @brianochka @branj19 @globetrotter28 @hazel-eye-coffee-shop-girl-blog @ades106

@charmed-asylum @waywardxwords @deanwinchestersgirl87 @this-is-me19 @rachiem4-blog @sweettimelady @leigh70 @clinicallydepresso @emily-winchester @xiphoidbones @skoveu @nyotamalfoy @kmc1989 @deans-baby-momma @tabsluvsu @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @deanwanddamons

@antisocialcorrupt @lacilou @deans-daydream @deans-spinster-witch @agalliasi @venicesem @chriszgirl92 @lyarr24 @iprobablyshipit91 @ladysparkles78 @solariklees @lostin-jensenseyes @deansbbyx @candy-coated-misery0731 @curlycarley @sarahgracej @bagpussjocken @deanfreakingwinchester @chernayawidow

#Welcome Home #Take Me Home #Part 3 #Beau Arlen series #big sky #beau arlen #beau arlen x reader #beau arlen x female reader #Emily Arlen #beau arlen x you #Jensen Ackles characters #big sky season 3 #Denise Brisbane #Jenny Hoyt #Cassie Dewell #zepskies writes

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butteredfrogs · 5 months

Text

📩 simblr question of the day: any other simblrs that you love

i did something similar to this a while ago but i just wanna spread some love because there are so many amazing and talented people and i just hope you all know i appreciate all of you! (also this post is super long so i apologise i advance)

@squea honestly you are such a sweet person and you’re so so talented! you inspire me so much and you already know i appreciate you but i really do and i’m so thankful to call you my friend💛

@circusjuney june, you are so cool. not only are your edits amazing, you can make poses as well??? you’re so talented and also i love talking to you you’re honestly so lovely and so sweet <3

@youredreamingofroo you have such cool and chill vibes, and your renders are amazing!! i also love reading about your ocs and stuff or seeing the stuff you reblog that reminds you of them, i told you this already but i legit stalked roo and leo’s tag the other day because i wanted to find out more about them!

@druidberries you already know ily, but honestly i am so invested in the tjol gang i love seeing them pop up on my dash and hello the latest update??? i am so excited for baby 3!! also ofc butterberries is the best duo and no i will not accept criticism thank you💛

@sunyos jaci, every interaction i have with you is so chaotic but you never fail to make me laugh so hard! you are honestly so chill and i love seeing your sims so much and i just love talking to you!!

@fizzytoo i love your sims and your gameplay screenshots so so much! honestly your postcard legacy was one of the reasons i wanted to get the horse ranch pack bc you just made it seem so fun! you also just have such good vibes! (also i saw your posts about playing sdv, i’m expecting updates from your farmer butter!!)

@stellarfalls literally where do i even begin. i mean if you haven’t seen bree’s edits already i’m going to assume you’ve been living under a rock? just so talented and honestly you inspire me so much (although i don’t think my edits will ever be on your level)

@stinkrascal honestly again just such a sweet and lovely person!! also i just love your vlad so much and i love reading your story like i love learning more about your characters and their backstories!

@alelelesimz honestly where would we be without your cc free townies, thank you for your service🫡. but not only that the way you style your sims in general is amazing like their outfits are always so so good

@solargrove you are so so sweet! despite the fact we don’t interact much you sent me such a lovely ask after i was upset by that anon and it just really cheered me up! not only that but your builds and your gameplay screenshots always have such a nice warm and cozy vibe to them like they literally can i live in your game pls?

@folkbreeze your edits your gameplay are so so good every time! your screenshots are always so full of life and literally look like they belong in a photo album i love it so much and i just love the way that you edit them as well

@eljeebee such an amazing story teller! if you guys aren’t following lana you should be!!! you put so much love into your stories and it really shows they’re so good! also you are so lovely and have always been so nice and supportive and i appreciate it so much💛

@citrlet honestly i’ve said this so many times at this point but you are so lovely! also your screenshots are so pretty and soft and i love them so much! i also love seeing your stardew valley screenshots like i really love the fairycore/cottagecore vibe <3

@crazy-lazy-elder-sims i’m so sorry i sound like a broken record but you are so lovely!!! every time i’ve interacted with you you’ve just been super sweet or supportive and i really appreciate it! also in general just the fact you reblog so many posts and support so many people is really nice to see honestly i always love seeing stuff that you reblog whether that be sims or not!

@windslar honestly your gameplay screenshots and your edits are so good!! and literally where would simblr be without your psds we would literally be so lost like they’re so good and so useful

@orbitsuns your gameplay posts are so pretty. they have such a sweet and wholesome vibe to them if that makes sense? esp your secret garden screenshots they just feel very cozy and wholesome. also you have the sweetest vibes <3

@wildmelon you have always been one of my biggest inspo esp when it comes to fantasy! also even though you don’t just post sims i love your blog so much. it has such a whimsical vibe and i just always associate you with fantasy <33 (also your sims are STUNNING)

this is already super long so quick fire of some of the other people on here that i love and that you should go show some love to as well @glittermutt @simelune @cottageivy @thefunniestjester @flovoid @finnsim @kopimoss @futurelabs @velvet-disc @aliengirl @zleepyhollow and so so many others that i’m probably missing honestly anyone that i follow has inspired me in some way or another and i appreciate each and everyone of you 💛💛 also just anyone who has liked commented on or reblogged any of my posts i appreciate it so so much thank you all for being here 🫶

#simblr question of the day #probably the only one i’m gonna do of these #just wanted to share some love #butter’s thoughts

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flowersbane · 1 year

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a scenario with a baker!reader gifting Joshua a little cake… which he happily eats (it’s carrot cake and he has no clue lol)

Idk but I wanted to share my silly little thought because I enjoyed your writing :’3

pls, this idea is so freaking cute!!! i'm so glad i finally got to write it, thank you so much for your request and patience, i hope you enjoy

(=´∀｀)人(´∀｀=)

The Trojan Cake

Joshua Rosfield x Reader

I might write another, shorter version of this where the reader bakes him a carrot cake without knowing about his carrot aversion, but, idk, let me know if anyone wants to see that. It would have to be a bit further in the future because I have some other things I'm working on that you can learn about here.

Rating: General Audiences

Word Count: 1.5k

Tags: Baker!Reader, Finally Getting Joshua To Eat Some Gosh Darn Vegetables, Fluff, Teasing, Unedited, Lots Of Appearances From Other Characters, Fun, Cutesy, Joshua Is Just A Big Golden Retriever

A new shipment of baking supplies was due to arrive today. You sway on your feet as you wait. Water laps at the wood beneath you, but you pay it no mind. Cursebreakers and laborers work on moving boxes off the ship and onto the Hideaway’s Pier.

“Carrots? Again?” Gav’s voice sounds from nearby. “And what are we supposed to do with all of these? We still haven’t gotten through the last shipment of them. There’s only so much carrot bisque a man can stomach. Soon enough, half the Hideaway’ll have orange hair and orange skin.”

Otto sighs. “Food’s food, Gav. We’ll find some use for them.”

Gav’s disgruntled expression doesn’t fade. “Unbelievable.”

Your attention is caught by someone calling your name. Mid waves you over from the ship’s deck. “You’ve got to come and see this! You’ll be grinning from ear to ear when you see how much stuff they’ve sent for you!”

You’re already grinning from ear to ear by the time you reach her side. Crates of flour, sugar, and yeast are tied down to the deck with sturdy rope. “And this is all for me?” you ask.

“You’re the one best suited for it,” Mid points out. “Now, I don’t mean to rush you but I’m pretty sure everyone at the Hideaway can already smell all the fresh baked sweets!”

“Oh, certainly,” Cole agrees as he and a handful of other Cursebreakers approach. “We’ll get these supplies to the Ale Hall,” he assures you.

“What are you going to make?” asks Mid.

You miss a beat before answering, “it’s a surprise.” In truth, you have no idea. You know the people of the Hideaway would be happy with anything you baked, but you didn’t want to fall into a boring routine. You wanted to try something new, even if you didn’t need to.

Mid only makes an excited sound from behind sealed lips. “The suspense is killing me!”

You laugh, but you know how she feels. The frustration of not knowing what you’ll bake weighs on you as well. “Well, best get to it.”

You descend from the boat and make your way back up to the main floor of the Hideaway. There are plenty of boxes that still need to be moved, so the lift is somewhat crowded. You wait for a path to be cleared before darting out.

“Have you tried chopping them up and hiding them in a stew?” Tarja’s voice catches your ear. She and Jote are crossing the Boarding Deck, clearly on their way to the Infirmary.

“If he sees them, he’ll claim he’s not hungry and refuse to eat,” Jote replies. “Not to mention, I can’t say I feel very comfortable trying to deceive His Grace.”

“They’re just carrots, Jote. I’m sure your decree says nothing against ensuring the Phoenix eats well.”

“If it were up to His Grace, I’m sure there would be.”

You continue your way into the main hall. It’s not uncommon to hear Tarja complaining about Joshua’s bad habits. You suppose this time it’s his aversion to vegetables. Especially carrots. Unfortunate, given that seems to be what the Hideaway has most of these days.

You’re halfway across the Main Deck when someone else calls your name, their voice sounding from your left. Speak of the devil. Joshua approaches with an easy skip to his step. The smile on his face tells you that he’s heard about your new arrival of supplies, but not that of the carrots’ reinforcements. Well, he might’ve and is simply choosing to ignore it. In fact, that is more likely to be the reality of things.

“I heard about the shipment of goods. Will you get to baking soon?”

If he were a dog, his tail would be wagging uncontrollably despite his cool disposition. You nod, your own smile creeping onto your face as an idea begins to form. “And you’ll be the first to get a taste.”

“Really? I will?”

You nod again. He’s always terribly eager to sample your new recipes.

He’ll have no idea. “Ah, my love, you’re brilliant.” He places a hand on either side of your head and plants a kiss on your forehead. “I’ll look forward to it.”

“You should.” You certainly are.

As he disappears on to the Boarding Deck, you dart over to the bar.

“Psst. Cole.” You wave the cursebreaker over.

“What is it?”

“Could you acquire me a crate of those carrots that just arrived? I have plans for them. Oh, but don’t let Joshua know. Keep this between us.”

He gives you a curious look, but does as you ask without question. You ask another of the cursebreakers to keep Joshua distracted for the time being. Your plans would be ruined if he were to walk in midway through.

“What, exactly, are you planning?” someone asks from behind you.

Jill runs her finger over the wooden boxes on the counter. You can’t help the little, proud gleam in your eye. “I’m going to get Joshua to eat carrots and like them,” you declare.

“Oh?”

“A carrot cake! He won’t even know they’re there.”

“I’m not sure if eating carrots in a cake counts as Joshua getting a proper intake of vegetables,” she points out.

You shrug. “Gotta start somewhere.”

“Anything I can do to help?”

“Lots.”

You, Jill, and a handful of other helpers get to work immediately. With no time to waste, the work is made lighter with more hands to share in its labor. The only thing you can’t speed up is the time of actual baking.

“Do you truly believe this will work?” Jill asks.

“I do. Although, it would be a little funny if he could tell anyway. Like some sort of carrot-sniffing bloodhound. A carrot-hound.”

“Who’s a carrot-hound?” Clive stops at Jill’s side.

“Depending on the results of this experiment, Joshua.”

Clive gives you an almost pained look. “Please do not tell me you’re planning on experimenting on my brother.”

“I promise it won’t become a regular occurrence. Probably. Most likely.”

Clive only sighs and shakes his head.

The cakes finish baking and the air is filled with the scent of freshly baked sweets. You and your assistants–now including Clive–are just finishing spreading the frosting when Joshua arrives, eyes alight with excitement. He says your name with a boyish eagerness that makes your heart squeeze. He truly has no idea. “I hope no one has prevented you from keeping your promise to me.”

You do your best not to roll your eyes. He can still be so childish at times, despite himself. “No, of course not. In fact, you’re just on time. I was about to cut the first slice.”

He smiles. “Excellent.”

He doesn’t even seem to notice how everyone pauses to watch as he takes the first bite. He closes his eyes to savor it. You press your lips together to keep your mischief from showing. “This is delicious, my love, as always.” Your heart soars. You’ve done it. And he’s none the wiser.

You exchange a knowing glance with Jill and Clive. Jill looks mildly impressed while Clive simply seems to be marveling at his brother’s obliviousness. “Alright, everyone,” you announce, “you’re all free to dig in!”

Gav arrives about a half an hour after everyone has already begun eating. He and Otto approach, standing on the other side of Clive, who has taken a seat at the bar beside Joshua.

Gav takes note of the remaining cakes. “Ooo, carrot cake, one of Otto’s favorites.”

You, Clive, and Jill freeze, eyes darting to Joshua. You practically see the life drain from his face. He turns a betrayed expression on you, like a pup who’s found his medicine at the center of his treat. By now, he’s already finished two large slices and is halfway through his third. You can’t help, you begin your apologies but the laughter in your voice steals any sincerity from them.

He practically whines your name, saying, “how could you?”

“But you liked it, didn’t you? Before you knew what it was?”

You can practically see his invisible tail and ears drooping. You’ve never seen him look so unlike the Phoenix before. It only makes you giggle more.

“I’m sorry, alright? I’m sorry.”

“I don’t know how I’ll recover from this.”

“Alright, my love, no need to be so overdramatic.”

He pouts. He actually pouts. “You’ll have to find a way to make this up to me.”

“Up to you? I did all of this for you.”

“You did all of this for yourself. I hope you’ve had your fun.”

You lean over the counter, smug as one could be. “Oh, I have.”

“Mhm.” He leans forward and places a soft kiss on your lips. You can still taste the frosting. “You better have. Otherwise, I will have eaten this for nothing.”

“You would have, at the very least, learned that you can stomach carrots. Isn’t that something?”

He laughs. “No, absolutely not. Just promise you won’t do something like this again.”

“I promise,” you draw out the word, “that it won’t become a regular occurrence.”

He rolls his eyes, but a smile toys at the corners of his mouth. “What did I ever do to deserve this?”

“Something really good, I imagine.”

His smile grows. “Must have been.”

#ff16 #ffxvi #final fantasy xvi #final fantasy 16 #ffxvi spoilers #final fantasy 16 spoilers #final fantasy xvi spoilers #joshua rosfield x reader #joshua rosfield #ff16 spoilers #fanfic

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thelifeofsharks · 1 year

Text

I’ve been thinking about writing this for a couple of days now, debating as to whether I should say anything publicly but I feel I should as nobody seems to talk about this.

Firstly, can I just say how much we (Sophie and I) love you guys. We wouldn’t be making these comics if we didn’t have an audience and we appreciate you enormously. Thank you.

A few days ago someone posted one of our comics to a Facebook group with about a million followers. The credits had been cropped out and we weren’t credited by the poster. In fact, they blocked us so nobody could tag us. One of our followers took a screen shot of it and sent it to us and by then it had gotten over 100k likes and tens of thousands of shares. Far more than ANY of our comics have ever received on our own page. It’s very disheartening and frustrating to see that people like our work but just not when we have our name on it or post it on our own account.

We had the comic taken down (it took 7 attempts with Facebook) and had some other ones taken down on similar pages and groups. After that we had a barrage of angry and abusive messages, comments and emails from the owners of these pages. One of their arguments was, “Don’t you want people to share your comics?”. The answer is yes…and no.

We love when our followers share our content. LOVE IT. It’s brilliant. There’s a share button at the bottom of every post of ours. Please smash that button for all you are worth. It helps us out enormously.

BUT there are a great number of Facebook pages and Instagram accounts that just steal our stuff (and other comics) and post them without permission or credit and then monetise it. You’ve all seen them. They have names like “Daily Funny Comic” or “The Funniest Cat Videos”. Their whole reason for being is stealing other people’s content and then selling stuff in the link at the top of their account. There are groups of people making huge amounts of money doing this.

I’ve had a load of abusive messages from people who run these accounts, accusing me of stopping them from making a living because their page is now under review. A living made solely on the back of exploiting other people’s work. I’d ask you not to follow or subscribe to these pages. It’s a whole industry now, built on monetising other people’s work with nothing paid to the original artists. And before anyone comments saying it’s great exposure, it’s not about exposure. It’s the principle of people’s work being exploited for financial gain with the artist getting nothing.

So for those people running those accounts, I will report it to Facebook. I don’t owe you a living. Everyone else, please feel free to share our comics. We thank you so much for doing so.

Also we have a shop if you’d like a t-shirt or a book. We make everything ourselves. Baby needs shoes.

#comic #sharks #the life of sharks #sharks comic #cartoon #humour #webcomic #comics #humor #funny #intellectual property #copyright #aggregators #theft

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vodika-vibes · 8 months

Note

I had a thought! You'd said you liked to write for Bacara but he was sorta niche... what if reader needed to learn Bacara - as *he* wants to be known. Let's say that Reader catches his attention (do we want to do medic!Reader?) and whether it's Bacara coming in with a brother or himself as the patient, he develops Feelings for Reader. He wants Reader to know what makes him unique from his brothers, his best qualities... allllllll that stuff, but I'm also trying to utilize this as an intro to Bacara because I don't know a thing about him! *the truth comes out* So like Bacara's Best Sides, According To Him or something? If this isn't hitting, feel free to ignore! Thank you 🌑

Best Of Me

Summary: You're a Doctor attached to the Nova Corps, and Commander Bacara is a mystery wrapped in an enigma. Luckily, he wants to be more open with you.

Pairing: Commander Bacara x F!Reader

Word Count: 1821

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni

A/N: I couldn't quite make your request work as written based on Bacara's personality, but I hope that this is okay too!

“How are you holding up?” You look up from where you’re checking your kit, and it takes you a moment to recognize Commander Bacara under all of the muck covering his armor.

“Oh, Commander,” You straighten, “I’m okay. This isn’t really what I was expecting when I was sent to the Nova Corps, though.”

You watch as he removes his helmet and sets it on a chair, and you frown when you see a bruise over his eye, not to mention the dark circles under his eyes.

You fight the urge to force him to sit down to give him a full exam. Commander Bacara only allows his brothers to give him medical attention. You know this.

“You’re not doing terribly,” Bacara says, high praise coming from him honestly, “I half expected you to complain about being forced to leave the ship.”

You frown at him, slightly hurt, “I wasn’t aware that you had such a low opinion of me, Commander.”

He blinks at you, seemingly surprised by your words, “I…no. That’s not what I meant.”

You squint at him. Commander Bacara is a loner, the other men in the Nova Corps were all very careful about making sure that you knew that. They warned you that he, likely, wasn’t going to talk to you much, and when he did, he was going to insult you.

And, in the year that you’ve been assigned to this battalion, you’ve come to recognize that he is something of a loner. And a perfectionist. But never rude, and in fact, this is the closest he’s ever come to insulting you at all.

“Are you alright, Commander?” You ask, “Did you take a hit to the head?”

He frowns at you, “I don’t have a concussion.”

“I think you should let me be the judge of that, don’t you?” You ask gently, though you don’t move closer to him. If he doesn’t want you to treat him, then you won’t. But if he leaves, then you will shoot a message to Syringe, the CMO of the Nova Corps.

Bacara doesn’t say anything for a moment, and then he sighs, “Fine, but make it quick. I need to get back to General Mundi.”

You smile at him warmly, “Of course, Commander.”

He sinks into one of the chairs, and you walk over to give him a quick exam. You keep your touch gentle, not wanting to give him any reason to now want to come back to you for medical attention, “This is really unnecessary,” he grumbles.

“Better safe than sorry, right Commander?” You ask with a bright smile as you tilt his head back slightly, “Any nausea?”

“None.”

“Headache? Dizziness?”

“No, and no.”

You move your fingers to his jaw to tilt his head a little bit, but his hands come up and wrap around your wrists. Firmly, but not roughly, “I’m fine. You don’t have to worry about me.”

“Worrying is what I do, Commander. It’s part of my job. But you seem fine, so I’ll let you get back to work.”

“I appreciate it.” He releases your wrists and gets to his feet.

Bacara towers over you, but you’ve never been intimidated by him. Instead you smile at him, warm and soft, and then you step away to go back to your project.

Bacara grabs his helmet and he hesitates for a moment, “Hey, Doc-?”

“Hm? Is something wrong, Commander?”

He absently passes his helmet from one hand to the other, “No. Not wrong.” Bacara finally says, before he flashes the smallest smile in your direction, “I’d like to get to know you better, when we have the time.” He admits, “I know what my brothers told you about me…and I’d like you to meet the real me.”

You blink at him, and then you flash a bright smile, “I look forward to it, Commander.”

His small smile widens a little bit, and then he pulls his helmet on and he’s gone. Back to the fighting. Back to the war.

You turn back to your work, a small grin on your lips.

You’re not unused to the men in the Nova Corps flirting with you. For some of them it comes as easily as breathing. But Bacara has always been a little different.

Honestly, you’re not even sure if he was flirting with you. But hey, a girl can dream, right?

Bacara sighs as he walks through the darkened halls of the ship. It’s late enough that he should be in bed, just like the majority of his brothers, but he can’t seem to settle his mind enough to actually get some rest.

The Nova Corps has been fighting on this planet for four months now, and he’s long since moved past tired and onto full on exhausted.

But, since he can’t sleep, he might as well get some work done…or maybe just work out some of the energy on the training mats.

He pauses as he passes the medbay. The light is still on, which is strange, since he knows that there’s no patients at the moment. Lightly he raps on the door, and then slides the door open.

And the moment he sees her, his breath catches.

To be completely frank, his crush on the pretty doctor is humiliating. Especially since he knows he’s one of over a dozen men who are crushing on her. One of over a dozen identical men, many of whom are more approachable than he is.

She lifts her gaze from her datapad, and her pretty eyes zero in on him, before a brilliant smile crosses her lips.

Bacara feels his heart skip a beat, she really is unfairly pretty. And that smile of hers should be classified as a weapon with how much it affects him.

“Commander!” Even her voice is unfairly pretty.

He’s so kriffed.

“You’re up late,” Bacara notes as he glances around the room, and sees that all of the beds are empty, “Shouldn’t you be taking a break?”

She laughs, “I laid down and ended up just tossing and turning, so I thought I’d just bore myself to sleep.”

He pauses, “Want some company?”

“I would love some company.”

He steps into the room and allows the door to slide shut behind him as he crosses the room and sinks into the chair across from her with a sigh.

She’s still smiling at him, all warm and pretty, “So, why are you awake?”

“Couldn’t sleep.” Bacara admits as he tilts his head back, “I’m so kriffing tired, but I can’t sleep.”

Her smile is sympathetic, “I have something I can give you to help you sleep, if you like.”

“That’s nice of you, but no thanks.” He glances at you, “So, what are you working on?”

“Just making my notes in the files of the men who saw me today,” She rests her chin on the palm of her hand, her gaze locked on his face, “It’s a shame that we’re always jumping from one battle to another. I have some ideas that I wanted to try to work on-”

“Yeah?”

She shrugs, “I’m a medical doctor, yeah, but I started off as a medical researcher.”

“Researching what?”

“Viruses, bacteria, cancers,” She shrugs one shoulder, “Honestly, I find your enhanced aging fascinating, and with enough time I’m sure I could reverse it.”

Bacara stares at her, “Why would you do that?”

“Because you all deserve a chance at a regular life when the war is over,” And then she laughs softly, “I haven’t actually started doing any research yet though.”

“Why not?”

“I wasn’t sure anyone would agree. And I didn’t want to get anyone’s hopes up.”

“You should. I’ll let you take blood or whatever from me,” Bacara offers.

“I might just take you up on that offer,” She replies with a small smile, “You know, I think this is the longest conversation we’ve ever had.”

“Yeah, well…” He shrugs, “I know my brothers told stories about me.”

“They did.” Her voice is soft, “I haven’t found any of the stories to be true, though. I think you’re very likable.”

Bacara’s heart flips again, “...how likable?” He can’t stop himself from asking.

She laughs, though there’s nothing cruel about it, “Very likable.”

“Oh, good.”

She pauses and twirls her pen between her fingers, “Actually, Bacara,” She says slowly, and he jolts as she says his name rather than his rank, “I wanted to ask you something.”

“Go ahead.”

“Are you…that is, do you have any interest in dating?” She asks as she doesn’t meet his gaze.

“I suppose,” Bacara says slowly, his mouth slightly dry, “That depends on who the other person is.”

“If it was, say, me?”

“I’d be very interested.” He replies immediately.

A small smile lifts her lips, “In that case, would you like to go on a date with me? There’s not a lot we can do on the ship, but we can still have a movie night or something.”

“Yes!” Bacara blurts, and then his face heats, “Ah…I mean, yes. I would like that.”

She giggles and Bacara’s even more smitten, “Then it’s a plan.” She pauses for a moment and sets her pen on the table, before she gets to her feet and walks over to him.

Slowly she ducks her head and presses her lips against his temple.

Her lips are warm and soft and it takes every ounce of his will power to stop from wrapping his arms around her and pulling her onto his lap and kissing her like how he’s been dreaming of for months.

“Was that okay?” She asks softly.

“Yes.” He replies hoarsely, “It’s more than okay.”

Some of the worry fades from her face, and she smiles at him warmly. And then she gently takes his hand and pulls him to his feet. “Why don’t you lay down on one of the beds here?” She offers.

Bacara frowns, “I’m not sick-”

“No, but you are tired. Maybe you’ll sleep better with me in the room with you?”

The offer is a kind one, and, really, there’s no harm in trying. So he settles on one of the beds. She dims the lights and then returns to his side, and lightly trails her fingers through his hair, “Goodnight, Bacara.”

“Hm…night.” He replies as he drifts off to sleep.

And an hour later, he stirs when he feels a gentle weight on the bed. He blinks, blearily, trying to get his bearings. And then a small smile crosses his face when he sees the Doc with her head resting on her arms, fast asleep while sitting in a chair.

Slowly, he eases her into the bed next to him, and he wraps an arm around her as she tucks her head under his chin, already mostly asleep.

Sure, he’ll have to deal with his brothers’ teasing in the morning, but it’s worth it to have her in his arms.

#star wars #tcw #commander bacara x reader #bacara x reader #star wars fanfiction #x reader fanfiction #f!reader fic #answered asks

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base0h · 1 year

Note

idk if you’ve done this before but can you do either zoro or luffy finding out that their s/o is actually alive? like they watched them die and stuff and then a while later, they just come back like

a/n - I woke up at 3am today and I’m very motivated for some reason :) thank you for this request anon!

Warnings ⚠️ - angst, g/n reader

You had died a while ago, and Zoro still hasn’t recovered from it. Your death was… Enough to break the unbreakable man. Everyone in the strawhat crew knew how much you meant to him, he would die for you.

He still had little pictures of you laying around, little things to remember you by. It was sad, feeling how the bed you two shared was now one for only him. How when he trained, you weren’t hanging out with him. You didn’t save him from the pervert cook ever again… Nor did you help him deal with Luffy’s recklessness.

it was so… empty with you not there anymore. As if his life wasn’t complete. He was with his best friends for life, on his way to fulfill his dreams, and help his captain fulfill his. It was everything he could’ve wished for. Except you. You weren’t there anymore.

On the next island, zoro reluctantly came along with Nami and Robin to help with the supplies shopping. They thought it would be good for him to get out of the ship for a little while. He walked, his head hanging low, his hand perched on the hilt of his katana in case anyone dared to attack him.

Suddenly he heard a familiar voice, he could’ve sworn it was yours. How could he ever forget it? Your tone that always brought comfort to him, whenever you spoke, it put him at ease, no matter what you were talking about. He looked up to see a hooded figure speaking with a merchant, negotiating a price.

His body moved for him, walking towards the person quickly, taking off their hood and staring at them to see if it was you or not.

It wasn’t.

“What the hell man?! What’s your problem?!” The man yelled at him angrily, swatting his hands away. Zoro sighed heavily, great, now he was hearing things.

“Zoro?!”

He looked up at the merchant. No fucking way. It was you.

He literally jumped over the stands of fruit and tackled you, wrapping his bulky arms around you so tightly you couldn’t even breathe. No, what are you thinking? He totally wasn’t crying!

“Y/n- where the hell were you? And how did you survive? I saw you-“

“Die? Yeah nope that didn’t happen. I’ve been waiting here for a while since I know you guys had planned on coming here.”

“You could’ve sent a letter dammit! And there’s things called den den mushis where a literal fucking snail can call me?!!”

He was mad, happy, sad, confused, but most of all? Relieved, to see you alive, safe, and in his arms again. “Sorry Zoro- but I’m too broke to afford one! I can barely pay for an apple in this expensive town!”

He chuckled a bit, kissing your cheek before leading you out of the stand. “Ahem?! My fruit?!” The hooded man asked before Zoro shot him the nastiest death glare he’d ever experienced. Anddd- that shut him up pretty quickly, sending him running away with fear.

“Come on, I bet everyone’s going to be excited to see you again.. don’t ever do that again or else I’m going to kill you.”

“Ok ok- sorry babe.”

Luffy was never- truly the same after your passing. Watching you take that hit for him as you fell off the cliffs into the steep waterfalls. God he remembered it as if it was yesterday, it kept haunting him, following him, stalking his life.

He still smiled, had his rambunctious attitude, reckless behavior, and meat loving self. But whenever your name was brought up, he wasn’t smiling anymore, in fact, he never could find happiness in hearing about you anymore.

All he could think about was how he let you die. Just like he did with ace. Everyone knew, everyone saw the changes from his old self. They hoped that this new island would help cheer him up, since it had been known for its very delicious meat.

He obviously tagged along with Robin and Sanji to pick out the “best” meat. When he was standing around, struggling not to eat it before Sanji even got a change to cook it, he saw a glimpse of someone he used to know. They looked- just like you!

It took him not even a moment to start running towards the person, turning them around to see that it… it was you!

“Y/N!”

He tackled you down, his arms wrapping several times around you, his face nuzzling into the crook of your neck. “LUFFY!”

Oh god you missed him so much- just to be able to hug him like this again was more than enough to bring life back into your heart again. “How are you here?! I thought you- fell off the cliffs?”

“I did, and Luffy. It wasn’t your fault ok? I’ve been wanting to tell you that for so long. Don’t blame yourself, I was the one that was too angry, and just attacked with no plan. I was the one that got myself almost killed ok? Not you.”

You kissed his forehead, you definitely knew Luffy had been blaming himself this entire time for your “death”. He grinned, peppering your face with his kisses, tickling your cheeks. “Sanji picked out some yummy meat, tonight we’re gonna have a feast!!!”

You smiled at him. Finally, you were home.

a/n - this was adorable help

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socially-awkward-skeleton · 4 months

Text

tagged by: @voidika and @thesingularityseries last week, thank you both <3

Well it's been almost two months and guess who's back to her FC5 verse again :) Still deep in the family angst with the kids so forgive me if this feels like a retread of stuff folks have already read, I swear things will progress with this chapter eventually. Anyhoo, usual warnings when it comes to Kit:

The gates at Saint Francis creaked closed as the white Eden’s Gate delivery van drove off into the foggy depths of the forest lined roads of the Whitetails, its red tail lights disappearing behind the misty wall near the bend in the road. November had rolled into December and frost littered the ground, leaving sparkling ice crystals clinging to the dead leaves, pine needles and gravel that made up the exterior grounds of the vet center's courtyard. Kit hadn’t even realized her birthday came and went with all of the chaos and the carnage surrounding her, her thoughts suddenly turning to the fact that she was now thirty two years old as she stood alone in her spot on the front steps, arms crossed over her chest, supervising as two of the followers carried in crates marked with Joseph’s cross.

Shifting her stance, bunching up the oversized flannel shirt she wore in her fist, Kit pulled the material closer to her where the cold air stung her still healing wound. Thick black stitches remained, holding skin taut as it sealed itself together once more, the flesh puckered and pale to match the letters carved above her breasts and across her shoulders, as well as the scars that littered her abdomen. The bitter, freezing air stung with each intake of breath, burning her nostrils, throat and lungs. The temperatures dropping up the mountain at a rate where frostbite would likely set in if she stood here without a coat for much longer. Her teeth clenched and her gums started to ache, knuckles chilled to the point where they seemed locked in place. A person could catch their death out here, not that she was going anywhere. From the darkened depths of the interior of Saint Francis, Jacob emerged with a cigarette, resting his shoulder against the pillar at the top of the steps beside her, covering the flickering flame of his lighter with his hand as he lit the end. “Didn’t know there was a delivery scheduled today,” he mumbled around his cigarette.

She turned to give him a sideways glance, their eyes meeting for only a brief moment. “Not one of the usual ones. Had a few crates of clothes and things for the kids sent here. The rest is heading to the armory.”

He grunted and slipped the lighter back into the pocket of his army jacket. “Didn’t give you permission to do that.”

“Didn’t ask.”

Stepping towards her, Jacob grabbed her arm tightly, pulling on it to spin her to face him. He sighed to steady himself, his eyes narrowing as he looked at her. “You are really testin’ my patience here, angel,” he growled.

“You might have made me break before, but I'm not rolling over with this one.”

“You’ve gotten too comfortable. Complacent. Think ya rule the roost here, huh?” He took a drag of his cigarette and stared her down. His cheeks ruddy with the cold and the constricted blood vessels under his skin.

“You were stuck in that bed for almost two weeks – I was forced to think that way in order to keep everything running.”

“Suppose ya did do a good job of that,” he said, looking her up and down before blowing smoke in her face.

“You’re goddamn right I did.”

Jacob scoffed, giving a quick shrug. “Don’t need me then, do ya?”

“Really?” Her scowl deepened as she glared up at him, molars grinding, keeping the cold at bay as the rage boiled up inside her once more. “God, you are such a fucking asshole sometimes.”

“Careful, Kitty.” Leaning in towards her, gripping her tighter until his fingertips buried grooves into her skin, he returned an icy glower in her direction. “I might have given you some slack on the leash, don’t think I’ve let go completely,” he rasped.

Her frozen stare pierced him and she ripped her arm out of his clutches, heading into the building without another word.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?”

“To check on my children,” she called back over her shoulder.

Tossing his half burned cigarette to the ground, he followed her in with sure strides, ready to continue their argument. “They aren’t yours, kitten.”

“Except they are. Someday you might even come around to that fact.”

Jaw clenching as she challenged him, his arctic eyes burned holes into her from under his darkened brow. “We both know that’s not happenin’, angel.”

The will to fight with him on this point burned bright inside of her. That white hot rage that lived deep in the pitch black dark at her core was rising up. Refusing to give in or submit. She had the will of God behind her, a conviction that could not be beaten. Christ, she might have actually finally understood Joseph and his mission, the way he felt so strongly about his orders given to him by a power far greater than he. It was an unbeatable force, a feeling that could not be ignored or dampened, and she was giving herself to it entirely.

Digging her heel into the floor, Kit turned to face him, darkness in her eyes. “You asked me to give you something to live for, if I’m not enough for you on my own, then maybe a family is.”

“No.” His cold, dead-eyed stare was enough to set her off, the flat tone of his voice was the final tipping point. “You haven’t even met them, you’ve refused to,” she spat.

“‘Cause they aren’t stayin’, so why would I get attached? There’s nothing there for me to care about, Kit. They aren’t mine.” “God, if you only knew…” She seethed, a mother lioness ready to take on the world. “The things those kids have seen and lived through. That little boy was raising his sister, they were all the other had left in this world…” Storming towards him, she shoved her finger into his chest pointedly. “You tell me that that doesn’t sound familiar.” “It does, which is why I know that taking those two in isn't the right decision. You hear me, Kit?” His large hands lifted to cup her face, gripping the skin tight, stroking through waves of copper and crimson that framed it. “Listen to me, Kitty. The last thing those kids need is us playing make believe as a family.”

Her brow lifted. “Don't give me that bullshit about if I love them, I should leave them… you don't understand,” she whispered, voice husky with the cold as her eyes fell downcast, “I was willing to die to protect them, only ever felt that way about one other before.” Pale eyes steered upwards, meeting Jacob's gaze. Not having to confirm her feelings with words, a look was all that it took. “I need those babies, Jacob. I need them to keep me sane,” she pleaded. “They’ve already made their home here with me, they aren’t scared anymore – they will be if they’re with anyone else. They trust me. They trust Staci. Give ‘em a chance and they’ll trust you too.” “The last thing those kids need is to be puttin’ their trust in me, angel. I’m not here to raise a family, I’m here to train an army.” Kit rolled her eyes, chewing the inside of her cheek as she snarled. “Fine. Go back to your office, General.” She crossed her arms and lifted her chin, a glint of defiance in her eyes. “You should know, I reorganized the duties lists while you were out of commission. You had inefficient overlap,” she said, biting out the words before heading down the corridor to go to see the children.

tagging: @henbased @roofgeese @cloudofbutterflies92 @aceghosts @galaxycunt

@unholymilf @wrathfulrook @hookhearted @fourlittleseedlings @mxanigel

@finding-comfort-in-rain @carlosoliveiraa @confidentandgood @afarcry5fromstraight @imogenkol

@inafieldofdaisies @kyber-infinitygems @clicheantagonist @adelaidedrubman @strafethesesinners

@statichvm @josephslittledeputy @marivenah @simplegenius042 @theelderhazelnut

@josephseedismyfather @voidbuggg @direwombat @florbelles @cassieuncaged

@shallow-gravy @cassietrn @strangefable @stacispratt

#wip wednesday #fic: american beasts #oc: kit cross #jacob seed #fc5 #skelly writes

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undercover-bro · 2 months

Text

exit strategy, part two

Dedicated to @missflufffanfics. Your comments in the tags were so lovely, thank you so much. I'm really glad you're enjoying my stuff.

Follow up to this

“If I die, I’m going to haunt your ass,” Shayne hissed as he struggled to pull up his pants while running for his life. It was exactly as difficult as it sounded. He coughed without a free hand to cover his mouth, feeling sweat soaking the back of his shirt as the flames they were struggling to outrun drew closer and closer.

“This is not my fault,” Courtney protested, voice muffled behind the scarf wrapped around her face.

“You literally shoved me against a wall and pulled my pants down!” Finally managing to work his cargos up over his hips, Shayne didn’t bother with the zipper in favor of tugging up his shirt collar to cover his nose and mouth.

“You had your hand down mine the entire time we were stuck in that utility closet!”

The sound of a cleared throat came through their coms. “Can you two debate this later?” Spencer interjected, tone dry and exasperated. “I found a clear exit. Take a right, then a left- there’ll be a ladder leading up to the roof. Coroner’s team will pick you up.”

Shayne and Courtney shared a look as they followed Spencer’s directions, one of mutual agreement on what little firebug was to blame for their current predicament.

“It’s Angela’s fault.”

“Totally. She’s the one who torched the place without checking we were still inside.”

Angela’s squawk of protest was only amplified by the crackle of the radio. “Hey! Hey! It’s not my fault HQ gave me the wrong launch time! Maybe if you two weren’t so busy gettin’ busy, you’d have gotten out early enough!”

“Keep telling yourself that, bug,” Shayne shot back, giving Courtney a boost up onto the ladder before following quickly after. “I’m sure you weren’t distracted at all by this Detective Canto you’ve met up with three times this week.”

“It’s Lehan-Canto, and I’m just gathering intel! You know Ian sent me to pump her for information on the Creekside case!”

“I’m sure you’re pumping her for something,” Courtney piped in, their adrenaline-filled laughter filling the air and drowning out Angela’s outraged scream. With a background cacophony of blaring fire alarms, the roaring approach of the helicopter, and several staticky “Suck a tit!”s from their explosives expert, Courtney grabbed Shayne’s shirt collar and pulled him close.

The kiss was heady and hungry from the start, deep and devouring. Her nails bit into his skin, his hands bruising in their grip, desperate to pull each other impossibly closer and meld their bodies as one.

Arasha finally reached her limit with Angela’s yelling as the helicopter came to hover above them. “Ange, just shut up and drop the rope ladder! You wanna climb Detective Hottie like a tree, so what? It’s fine, we all get it. But if you keep me away from naked Trevor Evarts in my bed much longer, I will drop you from this chopper.”

The line went suspiciously silent and the rope ladder dropped down quickly after. Courtney and Shayne broke apart regretfully, sharing one last heated look of promise before scrambling their way to safety, abandoned warehouse continuing to burn on below.

Shayne buried his face in the comforter he was spread out on, his pained groan muffled by the fabric. “Fuck, I feel like I’ve been hit by a bus.”

“You’re exaggerating again,” Courtney reprimanded lightly, tapping his hip to indicate he should shift. Shayne did as bid, moving from resting on his side to lying on his stomach. Despite her teasing, there was an undercurrent of concern to Courtney’s tone as she studied the red, swollen burn covering his back, popping the top to a bottle of aloe vera-lidocaine gel she began to gently apply to the inflamed skin. He hissed and flinched on first contact and she hushed him soothingly. “Just breathe through, baby. This’ll make everything feel so much better.”

There had only been one instance when the fire came too close for comfort. Shayne had immediately jumped to action, wrapping himself around her and placing his back to the flames. Unfortunately, it had earned him the rough and painful equivalent of a bad sunburn across his back, thankfully without any blistering.

“We have to get Angela back for this,” he grumbled, forcing himself to stay still as she had requested.

“Already on it. ‘Rasha and I may or may not be planning something related to that detective ‘friend’ of hers.”

Shayne chuckled. “Have I told you how much I appreciate that beautiful, nefarious brain?”

“A few times, but it’s always nice to hear.” Finished with the gel, she capped the bottle and wiped off her hands. “Ian actually asked us to look into making her an asset, but Ange doesn’t need to know that just yet.”

“Ian and his ‘recruiting.’ This'll be fun.”

Courtney snickered. Ian’s recruitment methods were unusual at best, but the FBI agent impersonation (and accompanying interrogation) he used on Courtney was tame compared to the insanity he put Shayne through. A tired and disillusioned Army Ranger with two tours under his belt, one night at a bar complaining to a stranger about corruption in the upper ranks sealed his fate. An unmarked van, zip-ties, and hood over his head wasn’t the smoothest of introductions, but somehow Ian worked his magic and ten hours later, a job offer was sealed with a handshake and Specialist Shayne Topp was registered as honorably discharged. Everything worked out in the end, but they were all grateful for the subtlety and balance Anthony seemed to provide since his return.

Shayne sighed, body beginning to relax under a combination of pain meds and exhaustion. By now, her touches had slowed to soothing caresses along the sections of unblemished skin, and he hummed appreciatively. “Sorry I can’t follow up on that great kiss, Court. Holy shit, by the way, top three of all time.”

She laughed softly, leaning down to press a kiss to his shoulder. “It’s fine. I prefer my Shayne a little pink versus extra crispy. Besides, I know you’ll make it up to me later.”

“Oh, for sure. That’s a promise, and baby, I always keep my promises.”

“I know. It’s how I fell in love with you."

#shourtney #shourtney fic #smosh #smoshblr #smosh fic #shartney #rated: t #background amangela

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dylansslutt · 1 year

Text

judas kiss / t.s

part three of dishonest (mini series)

authors note// hi thank you so much for your feedbacks, if i have anything unfinished yall really want another part too please lmk bc i literally have lots of ask/request or even things ive started up & forgot ab or have in my drafts. butt i am going through and finishing out some stuff, i just took a vacation and rlly needed some me time... BUT IM BACK BITCHES!!!

also... holy shit a thousand something followers!!!! thank you guys seeing the endless love and support of my writings has boosted me into starting my own book series ... but thats for another spill. thank you again for following me on my journey of my shitty writings to my development.

i got this tip thing working, i do work full time & go to school so any tips are welcomed and appreciated but either way ty all.

anywhore here is the third part/ im thinking final part as well. let your imagination think of the end... unless too many of yall want more.

tag list: @allie131313 @casa-boiardi

summary: lying about your identity, leads you face to face with the one and only thomas shelby. as chaos unravels much more surfaces as well.

staring in the mirror, feeling the old, yet the familiar feeling of a silk night gown cascading down your body. remembering the time lasted only for a mere few years. years you weren’t happy. the bruises were faded mainly, except the slight pain in your ribs still.

taking small pain killers help.

the day has left you tired leaving the rest of the clothing in the corner of the room. laughing almost as you take in the fact; he really did get you some new clothes. as well as being kind of enough to grab some of your own from your apartment.

which you were notified was absolutely trashed, yet hidden away you found a picture. one of you, your mum and sister. so young... so innocent. the memories of everything was building up.

the gown fit you nicely though, the cloth was soft and comfortable. something you almost forgot what felt like, since being alone on the run . glancing over at the clock noticing it was getting late.

biting your lip softly, things mule over in your head. how thomas was and if maybe, just maybe you two met under a different circumstance. hell even just a re-do of your meetings.

ignoring it as your hair gets tucked behind your ear. deciding to leave this room and not be cooped up.

as you step out, your eyes flicker down the hall. movements halting as your mind comes more clear. he was right there in that room.

the room you’ve seen him enter a mere few times. the light flickers through the crack of the door. it was there. right in front of you.

hand never leaving the door knob, biting your lip in deep thought. happy he got you your clothes from home, as well as a few new items. must’ve gotten help from a lady because there’s no way he chose these alonesome.

shaking these thoughts your feet spring into action. hand beside you now as your focus was on where he was. fist raising to knock on the ajar door. it swings open wider, creaking slightly as thomas sets some papers down.

smoke still in hand as his eyes lift to yours, exhaling the smoke from his lips. he lifts it back up, inhaling again taking in the sight of you. in more different clothing than anything he has seen before. work uniform, one little outfit, and his clothing. you looked good, stunning in a way.

he was as he usually was, expect a bit more exposed.

the anger still present when your wounds become more visible, thankfully more faint now. he’s already sent john to deal with that particular matter, but now he had to deal with some stuff tonight.

“got to look at the stuff, thank you.” giving him a small smiling, trying to make this attempt for a better start forward. needing time to plan future things as your mind hasn’t had a hint of peace.

he nods licking his lips, ashing in the tray.

“can’t have you walking around naked, can we?”

the joke brought a smile small to your lips, as your head thinks about the picture. unaware if he knew it was there or if someone else did the work. his focus is back on the papers making you step in. taking in this private study he enchants himself too; felt like him.

biting your lip softly, the sight of him before you has your mind in another place. he looks like something you saw only moments before. a mirror image of yourself. less battered and bruised on the outside though, yet he was tired. his eyes red, the bottle out in the open. he was more open, more vulnerable.

“y/n?”

you shake your head, a blush crosses your cheeks. “sorry. what ya’ say?”

he holds back his emotion, but his attention is now yours. “i’ve gotta meeting tonight, tomorrow some more to do. until then just stay here, out of harms way for the love of god.”

he stands up and stares at you. your lip ends up between your teeth, feeling a bit nervous. he didn’t sound so serious so fierce, he sounds exhausted. as you were to even fight back, which he noticed.

“if you are up by the time i get home, we should talk.” your eyes narrow at his words, nodding slightly. hands coming up to brush your hair back once more.

“just knock on my door when you get back, thomas.”

with that you open the cracked door wider, rushing out of the room. everything felt too tense too unsettling in there. only when his footsteps become noticeable, you realize he was following you.

heart racing as you reach halfway down the hall, nearing the stairs. for a moment, your eyes flicker to the front door.

the thought crosses your mind. ignoring it as you continue to ‘your’ room desperate that he isn’t actually following. that he would walk himself down those stairs instead.

as you reach the door his presence was there, the defeat leaves you. turning around to face him. his face was inches from yours. something deep in his eyes as he pushes the door open.

“thomas?”

the door closes behind you as he is now only standing in front of you, a heave in his chest almost. “their dead, alright? the men from that night, their gone.”

your eyebrows furrow in confusion, “wh-why are ya’ tellin’ me this?” he comes forward cupping your cheek. the look in his eye is something you’ve seen before. loss.

staying still in his embrace, “i-i don’t want ya’ scared of me... for some fuckin’ reason.”

the confession made your mouth shut completely. “i don’t want ya’ scared at all.” it didn’t feel exactly true but it what was easiest for him to say.

that was until he pulls you onto his lips. hands landing on his chest, mouth moving with his out of instinct. pulling away as you push him back slightly. staring into the eyes of a loss man, knowing this could end terribly.

your chest rises and falls quickly, “i- told ya-”

“tell me to stop then, y/n.” the deep stare between you two leaves something rattling inside of you.

“i-i get your past. i know mines fucked, but i-...” you trail off biting the inside of your cheek for a moment. the internal debate ends with him pushing forward.

lips on his he pulls you close, your hands around his neck as you both fall back on the bed straddling him. his hands push against your back, deepening the kiss. the hold on you wasn’t harsh, just tight possessive like. as if you were to disappear at any moment.

pulling away for air, his lips trail from your cheek to your neck. the giggle escapes your lips involuntarily, and for a moment thomas sighs. not of boredom and displeasure but of relief.

it made your heart swirl because you felt it too. the non-serious feeling of this. even though it wouldn’t last, it felt real for the moment.

his hand slips down from your waist onto your thighs. eyes flickering back up at you. your hands tug at his shirt, him taking the hint to remove it. the bare chest was there and now you could really look at it.

“thomas.”

his hand grips the back of your neck, pulling you into a kiss. he flips you over and he holds himself up against you. your back against the bed, other hand trailing between your thighs, you just as desperate for his touch.

he lifts the gown up slowly, teasing you with his touch. his head drops into the crane of your neck, kissing it softly before tugging your panties down softly. a soft gasp escapes you and he whispers something in your ear.

“so fuckin’ beautiful.”

your eyes roll back as he swirls your clit, the sensation incredible. “fuck.”

“taste good too.”

he enters a finger before he slowly moves his body down. his motion was slow and you whine when he leaves you. looking down seeing him between your thighs now, inches from you. his eyes flicker up, the blue prominent.

“impatient ay’?” your hand flies into his hair. trying to ignore the urge to roll your eyes,

“did ya’ forget that already?”

without another word his tongue swirls around you, a soft moan leaves you. he continues but slowly adding a finger. your calves press into his shoulders more, leaving his tongue to move slightly faster.

“oh th-” he slides another finger in making your words cut short, back arching off the bed slightly. giving him access to push your gown up above your breast. his hand comes back down around your thighs, feeling them shake around him.

unable to take it anymore your hand pushes at his head, but he holds it down instead. speeding up as your stomach drops, a moan leaving your throat. liquid coats his fingers and tongue as he stands up completely.

“do ya’ love anyone y/n?” the question caught you off guard. your breathing uneven coming down from your high; his pants drop and your body felt even more turned on.

“never really had a chance to experience love. probably doesn’t exist.” you confess the mere summary as you spread your shaky legs. his grip on them tightens, moving you closer to him.

he stares down at you in a way that you truly didn’t understand. “i like ya’, ms.solomons.” he confesses as he spits down on you. the action so dirty, but the confession so clean.

“just y/n, thomas.” the intent was known and he kisses your knee before moving. the feeling of him entering you slowly, made you grip his arm that held your waist.

“i sometimes-” you stutter out as he rocks against you slowly, fighting to keep your eyes open.

“i sometimes like to believe it could be true.”

he leans forward, the angle deeper than before as he kisses you deeply. his free hand coming to cup your jaw. his hips pick up speed leaving you a moaning mess in his mouth.

he was gentle, taking in what you reacted too. this wasn’t your first time but he felt as if you were innocent in a way. your eyes flicker up to him before you tug your dress over your head.

leaving you both completely exposed, “it’s true.” he confesses pulling away, turning holding you up against him as he lays down. your knees against the bed as he bucks up into him.

“ya’ crazy mr.shelby.” he pushes your hips down even more leading to the familiar feeling arise again. your nails sink in his shoulder, biting your lip clinging to him.

“say’s the one who’s dead.” you try to get a witty remark out but your orgasm spreads, feeling yourself starting to clench.

“yet ya’ look so fucking alive around me.” the wetness spreads down your thighs as he doesn’t let you go. “m-maybe i feel alive- with ya’.” the deep moan leaves you, the feeling of your bare chest touching had you in a whirl.

he’s buried deep in you as you cling to him, almost in tears overstimulated. you beg him. “tho-thomas. i-”

“so fuckin’ good.” his his shake slightly, as he leans back staring into your eyes. “do you trust me?” at how you were feeling you’d trust anything. your eyes flutter but you nod.

he stutters into you as his releases inside you making your eyes widen. pulling back panting as his eyes connect with yours. two different looks.

“wh-what did you do?”

“do ya’ trust me?” the logic in the room was clearly not there because without a second thought you nod again. he kisses you softly, “be mine. stay alive and i promise ya’ everything you could need.”

you pull yourself out of him, wincing at the feeling. your eyes stare into his, as the covers surround you,

“but you don’t love me.”

his eyes drop slightly, “i can see somethin’ in you. i need someone like ya’, think of this as something good.” you feel so exposed staring at him in disgust. “ya’-ya’ just came in me, who knows if i’ll get pregnant! thi-this is not gonna end well. what the fuck were ya’ thinking?”

“what the fuck was i thinkin’? oh my go-”

he sits up, “i’m thinking fuckin’ smart! ya’ know this shit, i am rising y/n, i need a wife and i need someone who can be that wife.” you stare at him and stop for a moment. it cut off your overthinking for a moment.

it wouldn’t be real but it could be. yet either way you could be safe... you could be free of being on the run. you could be alive.

“i need to think on it? i-i can have your answer tonight.” your words tremble slightly as you slip your gown on, facing away from him. “hey.” his hand lands on your shoulder.

your flinch makes him wince, scooting closer to you. covered up with the sheets. “i haven’t asked just anyone this question. this is fuckin’ insane but i-i do like ya’. we can figure this shit out because you know it’s true.”

“you need me just as much as i need you.” you mutter as a small smile appears on your lips, “i need a shower for a fact and nap thomas. you have somewhere to be, should get going.”

his hand leaves yours taking your hint, “i’ll knock on your door tonight. get some rest.”

after he redresses and the door closes behind him, the tears stream down your cheeks. you wanted him but you were so scared and conflicted.

your answer was yes from the moment you realize he was as stubborn as you but you were now a ghost.

you were laid down, the candles still lit allowing thomas to see your image. he walks closer but you were barely asleep. he sits down beside you and sighs heavily.

he doesn’t know you’ve woken up, and his energy was strong. you figured thomas shelby out and for a man to keep you around long enough...

you knew from the beginning you liked this man, but being ‘dead’ has made you believe any. any of that type of thing was impossible. slowly you turn over, facing the man who stares ahead.

“eric is tryin’ to be a political man. if ya’ know alfie, imagine a sickenin’ no good bastard times a billion.... as him.” the words made thomas sit a bit straighter. you felt vulnerable now, half asleep tucked into a new home.

you had to give a answer.

“i’ve looked him up, he isn’t much and from what i’ve heard. alfie really doesn’t give two fucks for him.” the way he settles his sentence lets you know that eric is no threat. to you or himself in any aspect.

“charlie’s mother, i-i won’t ask you to speak of her.” you sit up now, thomas takes in your sleepy appearance. “if i take on that boy as my own. i will love and teach him as my own, but you have to tell me about her so he can know his true mother.”

your eyes swell up slightly. “she won’t be forgotten in your mind ever, i know that. so let me learn, let me be there for you so i don’t go crazy. so i-i can do better...”

the words hit thomas and he only shifts to maintain his composure. you don’t notice since your emotional more so, but he knows he did right choosing you.

“i have a story, everything about how to make you ‘undead’ since your job at it wasn’t the best.” that made your eyes look up at him. “i know ya’ can’t be her, but i do have some’ towards you.”

his hand reaches out to cup your face. “she wanted some of the stuff you did as well...”

the deep stare was all that was needed, you let this moment last. he was gone when he lost her. loosing her was loosing apart of himself. you accepted it because you truly knew love was not meant for you in this lifetime.

slowly breaking the moment, lips almost trembling but your composure well gathered now. “if we do this- ya’ can’t treat or make me out to be some fool of a house wife. i-i’m more than that and i’ll be damned to be one of your puppets.”

moving out of his reach makes you ache for it more yet thomas sees something within you. you were sorta like polly sometimes. strongly determined woman.

“ya’ help me stay together, ya’ help me keep this household together... my family together and whatever ya’ want is yours.” flickering from each eye, he awaits your response and you nod.

“i agree, to be your wife. i agree to hold your secrets, now for i wish to get rid of the jewish ways though... go back to the gypsie ways. please.” your desperation was without notice and he kisses you.

kissing you felt like kissing grace.

setting down the glass of whiskey, your eyes train along the inside courier. everything was simple, everything was different. charles was taken to bed not too long ago, you didn’t see much of him but it made you think.

too take on this responsibility was what you were raised for. yet you ran from it because eric was a vile man... so is thomas. your heart aches though due to the surprising feeling erupting yourself; that you may just like the man ever so slightly.

with your past and his it felt like you both being so fucked up, it could work? sighing heavily and grabbing the glass once more. the liquid slips down your throat as you enjoy the peace of true alone time.

telling his maid, well lady of help to head to sleep since you were up. if charles was to awake you could handle it or if need be. get her up. charles really ponders through your mind, for you would be like a mother.

you could be his mother, yet you would never wanna replace his true mother. what was she even like? what did she view or believe? what the hell did she see in thomas shelby?

he said she was a bit like you, in what fucking way?

you move and see her painting and you looked nothing of her. she looked of class and elegance, some real princess shit. you didn’t compare to that, so what motive was this?

make me alive again, was this his plan? biting your lip you throw back the remaining liquor. rolling your eyes at the empty cup, you head towards the kitchen.

smiling to yourself of the kindness that francis left out the bottle for you. moving forward you almost reach the counter but you were hit over the head. your body hit the ground harshly, the glass breaking surrounds you.

it flashes back to the moments of your mothers death. yet before you could react you were hit again, and the darkness overtook you.

you awoke in a moving vehicle, head pounding your face contorts in displeasure. trying to focus your vision, your eyes land on a priest as well as a few other men.

“hello miss solomons.” the priest smiles wickedly and you stare back unfazed, or atleast as much as you could appear.

“well you see, there’s so many ways this here can go. yet as of right now, you are actually of great use.” his tone menacing and your head was spinning.

you try desperately to maintain eye contact with his. unsatisfied with your response of nothing; he nods as one of his men move forward. the hit makes your head sling to the side. blood literally splattering onto the window beside you.

the taste of blood in your mouth has became a all too familiar feeling. as you let your head hang lowly, you over hear someone mutter. “we are almost there.”

moving your hand to wipe your chin, seeing the back of your hand covebloody finally angers you. not knowing where this was going, you finally look back up. “i think we might just have to use the boy instead.”

your heart drops, distracted now. the boy? of course it had to be...

“what boy?” you finally speak, it slightly muffled due to your severe swollen lip. this gets the mans reaction. “she speaks!”

“what boy?” you question again, feeling a sense of protectiveness all of a sudden. what is going on with you?

“ahh, mr.shelby’s boy. ya’ see we have a deadline, and i do have orders with him. oh i spoke to your cousin mr.solomons... he does seem to have a keen interest of seeing you.”

sitting back you take in everything, the deep wrenching pain in your chest over came you. ”didn’t mention if it meant alive or dead, though. dear.”

tears fill your eyes, as you realize everything. this was all a lie, a pawn, a game.

“yet your price is a wager, does thomas care more for your safety or does your cousin? or i could merely kill you now and just let you be what you so ‘desire’.”

his words let everything truly settle now. you never escaped. you just switched paths.

it almost could make you laugh, until it did. you looked crazy and stupid but you were laughing, hysterically almost. wincing at your lip throbbing, heaving out as your head pounds from the movement. you stare into the mans eyes dazed. he stares back at you in discomfort but looks away.

thomas got his own kid into this shit. he better have this all figured out. dizzy from the amount of hits to the head you’ve taken. you look back over and see the man on your right snatching out two pills. eyes widening slightly as you try to move back.

“what is that? wh-wha-no!” the men hold you down, your kicks and hits defenseless. the pills shoved in your mouth. water forced down your throat whilst your nose was plugged, left you choking on the water. forcing you to swallow.

yet they continue it for a few seconds longer, leaving you to start choking horribly. knowing it was swallowed, you were let go finally. shaking and drenched in water, you wildly swing your fist forward.

pure rage in hitting the man on the right. your leg kicks the other guy, before you hit the priest once. a strong hit leaves you slumped, mind swirling until you were no longer able to stay awake.

a strong jerk makes your eyes flicker open. charles was crying softly, making you ignore your own pain. sitting up you look at the man holding him. out of it but desperate you plea.

“give him to me. please, i-i was a mother, i know how to make him stop.” you lie out of instinct but the man seems irritated and hands charles over with ease. ignoring their looks as we come to a stop.

pressing a soft kiss to his head, you hold him soft rocking him softly. your watch the men get out of the vehicle, it was dark out now and your head hurt so bad.

keeping it together for the sake of charles, you try to stay focused. the priest man comes back and you clutch charles more tightly, charles surprisingly soothes down within your hold.

“come on, lets go.” knowing what happen last time, you slowly move out the car, careful with charles the cold wind hits your skin for your only in a nightgown and light sweater. which was blood stained.

the darkness led you to follow him, but soon a room with light appears. you sat down as instructed, feeling the light make your head hurt worse. you notice the two other guys didn’t follow through and he was now alone.

trying not to move, you let charles sit beside you. oddly enough he gave charles something to eat while you stay silent. he looks up at you with a smile.

“the deal is all taken care of, you will be taken care of soon.”

this sick bastard. he gets up suddenly looking back at me, “stay here.” the tone was threatening and you nod softly. scared of what might happen, you sit quietly listening in hard.

moments pass before you heard the words uttered, “please don’t shoot.” you fly up, feeling dizzy from the quickness, glancing back seeing if charles will be okay.

moving forward grasping the wall beside you, as the spots slowly fade from your vision. following the way he took trying to listen in on where the sounds were coming from.

moving quicker at the noise of grunting and painful sounds, ignoring your own pain. you round the corner, taking in the sight of the priest guy fighting a younger guy.

in the oddest moment you notice a hat, the familiar hat. the cap thomas had, a similar one on the ground. “you know who your fucking messing with?”

he throws the guy against a bench, swinging on him. both hands wrap around his throat in such a swift motion. the look on his face reminded you of what yours probably looked like. without thinking you grab a nearby book.

“i’ll take the fuckin’ life from ya’.” you throw the book, it missing your goal hitting him in the back. “leave him the hell alone!” rushing forward, as he turns around one arm coming out. his elbow hits you harshly making you fly back.

hitting the side of a bench, your ribs aching out from the movement. not even knowing what you hit, you stay on the floor. tears leave your eyes unwillingly from the pain.

flying back the back of your head slams into a bench, rolling over sideways. in a slump, you barely were able to make out what was in front of you. all the damage to your head, you knew in nursing this was severe.

“both of ya’ gypsie bastards” without a second thought, the man slices the priest eye. him stumbling back in pain, as the younger man kept coming and coming at him.

“melanie?” you call out as you swore you heard her voice. snapping out of it at the slam open of doors.

two men emerge from a door, too much in pain to handle that situation. trying to push up, hearing the sound of charles cries. “charles.” you gasp out, completely remembering the boy.

managing to get up shakily, moving forward only to stop momentarily. taking in the sight of the bloody mess of the once alive priest. the image locks you in, before you turn back. your were weak and slow but you reach charles.

collapsing beside him leaning back against a near wall. ignoring everything in the world, for it was too much to bare. how odd you found yourself near something of pure innocence; after the chaos you just endured.

charles babbles as you softly sob, “oh charles.”

“it’s alright.” the mans voice spoke, stopping you momentarily. you went silent uncertain exactly anymore of anything. despite everything though you speak up.

“thank ya’.” your tone hush as if you weren’t bold to speak loud. the man sighs out and you wince.

“but ya’ gotta get th-thomas.” the words slip out weakly, eyes flutter as they gaze upon the boy. not even noticing he came around the corner. blood soaked and shaken up, trying desperate to stay focused.

“i’m michael, i’m tommy’s cousin.”

so simple, which was all that was needed. “y/n solomons.” he helps you up, you lean against the wall as he scoops charles up. “hold onto my arm, there is a car outside.”

managing to get inside, but once settled your body slumps. you try to stay up, but the tiredness takes over.

still out not noticing you arriving at the shop, or that michael already took charles inside to the rest of his family. he notified them of you. ada and polly knew for they were the ones who helped you get your clothing.

thomas spoke of you to arthur once.

michael ends up carrying your lifeless looking form inside. polly rushing out orders, ada making a place for you to lay. you were set down and polly pushes your hair out of the way examining you, but when she touches you.

her heart sank. for no reason apparent it just did.

“someone call thomas.” and the cheerful glee of happiness of charles was apparent but the dark silent loom of your appearance was one of unease.

“mum, sh-she helped save him.” he confessed out to polly, who let out a sigh. “well call the damn doctor as well, for christ sakes.”

your eyes flutter open slowly, “charles?”

polly grasp your hand, “he’s safe dear, your both safe now.”

“n-no my head. i can’t my head.” you groan in agony, and your heart aches. “thomas?”

the room went silent. “tho-thomas?” polly speaks up, “he’s on the way.” yet after those words your eyes roll back. “the doctors on the way!” ada calls out and polly sighs in worry for the girl.

#thomas shelby #thomas shelby imagine #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby smut #thomas shelby fic #Tommy Shelby #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby smut #tommy shelby fanfic #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby angst #Peaky Blinders #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders imagines #peaky blinders smut #peaky blinders fandom

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bluejaysandblackbats · 8 months

Text

Catch and Release

Fandom: DC Comics, Batfam

Summary: AU where Jason doesn't die in the explosion and he and Tim end up attending the same high school months later.

Chapters: 10/?

Characters: Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne, Alfred Pennyworth, Tim Drake, Dick Grayson, Barbara Gordon, Sebastian Ives, Jack Drake, Janet Drake

Relationships: TBA

Additional Tag: Jason Todd Lives, Jason Todd-centric, POV Jason Todd, POV First Person, Tim Drake Has Issues, Tim Drake Has Issues, Tim Drake is Not Robin, Jason Todd is Not Robin (Anymore), Bruce Wayne Needs a Hug, Alfred Pennyworth is the Best, Alfred Pennyworth Knows, Stalker Tim Drake, Jason Todd Has Chronic Pain, Jason Todd Has PTSD, Angst with a Happy Ending, Unlikely Friends, Injury Recovery, Emotional Baggage, Rage, Bruce Wayne is Bad at Communicating

Chapter Ten: Snow Day

I made dinner for Tim and me at the beginning of March. It was snowing out, so we skipped school that day, and Tim’s nanny bought groceries. Real food. Celery, carrots, lamb cutlets, potatoes. All the fixings for Irish stew. Tim sat in the kitchen with his laptop, offering me the occasional glance of gratitude. Tim didn’t say much that afternoon. “This isn’t a pity meal… I’m making this because it’s freezing out, and I’m going to commit fratricide if I have to eat another greasy pizza,” I half-joked. Tim grinned.

“Jason, you’ve been here for a few weeks-.” We heard the front door open.

“Tim! Tim?” Janet shouted. She sounded excited, but Tim and I were petrified. We didn’t know how his parents would react to me living in their house. Tim shut his laptop and stared at me.

I nodded. “In the kitchen, Mom!” Tim called.

“Hey, something smells good-.” Mr. Drake looked at me and then Tim.

“Jason’s making dinner, Dad,” Tim explained. Janet rushed into the room and embraced Tim. It was a while before she noticed I was there. “Mom… Hi… Jason made dinner. He’s living with us now.”

His mom’s smile faded, and she ran a hand through her hair. “Jason, is something going on at home?” Janet asked.

“My-. Bruce and I had a falling out,” I answered.

“How long have you been-? Sorry, I don’t mean to interrogate you,” Janet whispered.

“Does he know you’re here?” Mr. Drake questioned. I nodded.

“I’ve been here for a little over a month-.”

“Jason’s a great influence,” Tim commended, “He helped me raise my grades and made dinner.” Tim’s parents seemed concerned with my presence and that Bruce hadn’t asked me to come home.

They didn’t say anything else about it, though. I made everyone a bowl of stew, and Tim poured drinks. His parents had wine, and we had sparkling grape juice. We quietly ate before Janet leaned over, kissed Tim's head, and whispered something. Tim smiled. "Okay," Tim replied.

"Bruce Wayne?" Mr. Drake questioned.

"Jack-."

I nodded. "Hey Tim, how's your part of the group project going?" Jason questioned.

"Almost done," Tim replied, "Stew's good…"

"Thanks,” I smiled.

Dinner was mostly quiet. Janet sent us upstairs afterward so she could talk to Mr. Drake. Tim could hear them arguing. “Tim, I’m sorry-.”

“It’s okay. Mom and Dad always fight like this. You just happen to be the subject of tonight’s civilized disagreement,” Tim replied.

“What are they saying?” I asked.

“It’s not like he brought home a stray puppy or kitten from the snow,” Tim mimicked his father.

“He’s having problems at home… And he’s a good influence on Tim. It’s not normal for a boy Tim’s age to spend so much time alone,” Tim replied in Janet’s voice.

“Your dad doesn’t want me here,” I mumbled.

“It doesn’t matter what Dad wants. Mom told me during dinner that you can stay as long as you want,” Tim replied, “Dad’s more worried about the legal stuff… He thinks Bruce might sue him or something for harboring a runaway.” He rolled over and bumped into me.

I playfully pushed him over, and we lay on his bedroom floor, hoping things would work out. “Come with me when I get my cast off tomorrow?” I asked. Tim nodded.

He patted me on the chest. “Hey, it’s coming around… My dad told my mom that whatever happens is on her from here on out. He’s upset, but he’ll get over it. Mom’s gonna make him come up here… Let you know you can stay here,” Tim explained, “Five… Four… Three… Two-.” Janet knocked on the door.

Tim jumped up and answered. “Mom-.”

“Your room is spotless,” Janet whispered. “Look… That’s not why I’m in here. Jason, does Mr. Wayne know you’re here?”

I nodded. “I told my-. I told Bruce I didn’t want to come home and that I was safe here with Tim,” I whispered, “He doesn’t like it, but he won’t fight you on it. As long as I’m safe and in school, he won’t bother you or Mr. Drake.” Janet pulled up a chair, sitting in front of us.

“How old are you, Jason?” Janet questioned.

“Sixteen… I’ll be seventeen in the summertime,” I answered.

“You’re sixteen… My son is fourteen… And I see how your influence on him has been nothing but positive. We’re so happy to have you here, but I still think my husband is right about one thing. We need to talk to Mr. Wayne about this,” Janet suggested, “Can you call him for me?”

“Right now?” I asked.

Janet nodded, and I pulled out my phone and reluctantly dialed his number. He answered before the first ring finished. “Jason, what’s wrong? Do you need me to come-?”

“No, I don’t need anything… I’m fine. My friend’s mother would like to speak to you about my staying here,” I explained, “You might have to speak to both his mother and father-.”

“Why can’t you come home so we can talk-?”

“Please be an adult about this, Bruce. I don’t think I should come home right now,” I replied.

“You want me to be an adult about this, but you won’t listen to anything I say. I’m the parent, Jason-.”

“And I’m tired of listening to you telling me how you’re the parent when I’m shouldering all this by myself,” I interrupted, “Now, do me a favor and talk to Janet Drake, please.”

“Fine… I’m sorry… You can hand the phone over to Mrs. Drake now,” Bruce replied.

I wanted to be kind… But I couldn’t force myself to forget. I handed the phone over to Janet. “Hello, Mr. Wayne. Can I call you Bruce?” Janet asked. “Cool… Hi, I’m Janet… The resident mom. Jason’s a wonderful kid, and it’s not a problem keeping him here. I wanna know if he can stay here until he’s ready to go home… Uh-huh… Yeah… No, I get that. I understand… No, Jason’s a sweetheart. That’s no problem.”

Tim threw a footbag at my head, and I caught it without looking. “Sick,” Tim whispered.

“You’ve gotta be a lot faster than that,” I grinned as I tossed the bag to him. I hoped Bruce would let me stay. I always wanted a brother to joke around with and laugh with, but Dick and I never had that chance. I don’t blame Dick because of how things started out.

With Tim, it was different. It felt like we’d been brothers my whole life. I almost forgot his mom was talking to Bruce. “Think we can take the stew to lunch?” Tim asked.

“Mr. Ames might let us use the microwave if I promise to check in with the counselor,” I replied. We lay on the floor next to each other, staring at the ceiling. “I kinda like the counselor.”

“Like a crush?” Tim questioned.

“No, not like that… Mr. Finney’s just-. Mr. Finney’s nice. I’ve only been there once, but I like talking to him,” I explained. Janet returned my phone.

“Bruce said okay, but only as long as you keep all your appointments and behave yourself… I don’t think that’ll be an issue. I’m leaving you alone, but don’t stay up too late. It’s a school night,” Janet warned.

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