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sunonyoreface · 1 year

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Routine Examinations Pt7 - Jimmy Keene - Black Bird Imagine

Hi there, this story is loosely based off the Black Bird series starring Taron Egerton as James Keene. Although the series is based off real events, this story is not and deviates from the show’s plot.

Summary: You’re a doctor working with the FBI, your new patient: Jimmy Keene.

Word count: 2000

Pairing: Reader x Jimmy Keene

TW: angst, prison environment, mention of insulin injection.

Jimmy doesn’t hide his surprise when I show up outside his cell. His tired expression is replaced with one of recognition and worry. My patients weren’t alerted about the morning routine change. It’s only for a couple of days. Just until enough people are discharged upstairs and my office is my own again.

“Dr. Green,” concern laces his tone as he stands up from his bed to greet me. He approaches the bars, looking me up and down, searching for evidence to support his wariness.

“Morning Keene, how are you this morning?” I smile at him through the doors. I’m careful not to be too overtly friendly. Jimmy is not the only one watching. As I’ve made my rounds, the male attention has only grown. At least a dozen depraved eyes are on me as we speak, peering from all angles of the floor.

Nelson steps around me to unlock his cell door. Jimmy’s eyes flicker to the officer only briefly before landing back on mine. His brows are furrowed, clearly questioning my unannounced visit. He isn’t the only one who reacted this way. several others were upset I’d altered their routine, but thankfully none put up a fight. Once it slides open, Nelson takes a stand near my medical cart, ensuring nothing will get stolen. He stands with his back to us as I requested at the start of our route so it didn’t look suspicious if I were to ask at Jimmy’s cell.

“Is something wrong?” He asks.

“Not at the moment. I’m doing medication on the ground today to avoid extra traffic in the infirmary,” I step up to the entrance of his cell. The door is unlocked but his broad frame guards the opening. He’s hesitant to let me in.

“May I come in?” I step up to the entrance. Intense eyes stare down at me as I wait for him to decide. I don’t think he wants his injection out in the open.

Jimmy takes a small step back, just far enough to allow me in, but not far enough back so that I have space to move past him. We’re standing almost chest to chest.

It feels strange being in an inmate's cell, especially Jimmy’s. It’s a small glimpse into who they are. What few possessions they have are often incredibly important to them. Yet Jimmy hasn’t been here long enough to add to his cell. I’m not sure he would anyway. He doesn’t come off as that type of person. But maybe I don’t know him that well.

Nevertheless, you’re stepping into what little space they can call their own. It’s not a home but it’s as close as many of them get for years. It's where they sleep, where they dream, where they think about friends and loved ones on the outside, where they reflect on their past actions, where they determine if it was all worth it. It’s the closest thing they have to a safe space. So just the act of being in his cell, in his space, feels oddly intimate.

Part of me feels like an intruder after that first step. As though I need to tread lightly because no one should know I’m here. But that’s not really the case, is it?

I fidget with the packaged vile. Jimmy’s name is nearly labelled on it. They’re all meticulously labelled. Every vial for every patient. So, even if I’m not the one doing his shot, Jimmy will receive the crystalloid solution instead of insulin. The wrong vial could kill him.

He watches me intently. I briefly saw him yesterday for less than five minutes at the crack of dawn, but we couldn’t talk. My office was and still is being shared by two doctors with only a curtain as a divider. Nothing we’d say would be confidential. Today is the first real day since the riot that we’ll be able to talk. Even if it’s for a limited amount of time.

“How are you?” Jimmy whispers as he towers over me. Looking up into his eyes is mesmerizing. Yet the nagging in my head reminds me of those watching. I grab his arm to pull him deeper into his cell. Here we’re sheltered from everyone but Nelson, who isn’t looking anyway.

“Tired,” I respond. “Overwhelmed. I haven’t really had time to think about it,” I anxiously rub a hand along the back of my neck. I don’t know how much I can tell him anymore. After Hall’s trip to the infirmary yesterday, part of me wonders what Jimmy all shares with him. Or if it’s possible he shares details about me in exchange for details about Hall’s life. The logical part of my brain says that would never happen, that Jimmy wouldn’t do that. Yet, I’d be stupid if I didn’t at least consider those possibilities. Because after all, Jimmy is a desperate man. And desperate men are dangerous men. “You?” I ask.

“Tired. I’m always tired,” Jimmy lowers his voice. “I can’t stop thinking about you” he raises a hand to brush over my bandaged collarbone. Underneath my clothes, the scar is red and still several days away from being fully healed. Part of me wants to disappear into his arms, to be held and comforted again, but I know we can’t. I long to melt into him. I can tell he wants to touch me more because his hands linger above my shirt, but I know he won’t. “These last few nights, all I could think about was if you were okay,”

“I’ll be fine,” I whisper. “Can you take a seat on the bed please?”

Jimmy obeys my request, taking a seat on the neatly folded mattress. He sits with his legs spread and I take the opportunity to stand between his thighs. Our legs brush and I can feel the warmth from his skin pass through our clothes and embrace my outer thighs.

“Did they catch those fuckers?” Jimmy’s voice is raspy and I can hear the underlying anger in his tone.

“Sort of,” I hesitate before continuing. “Ralf was charged for stealing the supplies and put into solitary, but Moe wasn’t caught,”

“But you know who they are? Why didn’t you identify them?” I didn’t want to talk about this today but now it’s too late to stop.

“Because if this goes to court, it doesn’t just draw attention to them, you’ll be brought into it too,” realization dawns on Jimmy’s face. “What you did was technically assault, even if it was to protect me. I don’t know if you’d be charged, but you would definitely be mentioned in the hearing. What happened would be talked about by other convicts, if it hasn’t already. I’m fine. I’ll be fine. But I need you to focus on Hall, okay?” As the words leave my mouth, he breaks eye contact. I don’t think it’s guilt he feels. It’s something else. Something harder to describe. His brows furrow and his eyes search his cell for a nonexistent answer. Jimmy’s hand starts to reach for mine but then he stops and pulls back. My heart clenches.

“I’m not sorry for what I did,” he says seriously.

“I’d hope not,” I joke. He looks up at my change of tone to see me smiling down at him. “Now, lift your shirt.”

I’m starting to think Jimmy will never get used to needles. His entire body remains stiff throughout the thirty seconds it takes for me to finish. His breathing is shallow and he refuses to look at my hands. It’s almost cute.

“Done,” I cap the syringe. “Jimmy, there’s something we have to talk about before I leave,” he looks up. I have his full attention. “Hall came to visit me yesterday,” I watch his reaction carefully.

“Hall did? Why?” His brows furrowed in confusion and he shifts away from me slightly.

“He faked an injury because he wanted to see who’s been treating you every morning,” a flash of anger crosses Jimmy’s face but doesn’t stay. He remains quiet, allowing me to continue. “He said you mentioned that I was nice and pretty and he had to see for himself,” I finish with a sigh.

“I didn’t say those things to him,” Jimmy’s whispering now. Maybe he fears Hall will hear us from his nearby cell. “Well not like you implied. He was asking me what you were like because he hasn’t gone to the doctor since coming here. So I said you were nice, but that’s it.”

“Has he said anything else about our appointments? Anything at all?” I lower my voice to match his. Jimmy looks to the corner of his cell and I know immediately there’s more.

“Every once in a while he’ll ask, never in much detail. But he’s asked about what it’s like having diabetes. How often you do my shots. That kind of thing. Once or twice he’s tried to talk about you in more detail but I don’t say much,” he forces a swallow.

“What did he say?” My tone is more serious than ever, I need to know if Hall’s curiosity is just that or if it’s more.

“He wanted to know if you had kids, you know, stuff like that. If you were married, to which I said I didn’t know and he told me to check for a ring next time,” he pauses to consider his words before continuing. “The day before the riot he started getting more personal. He asked what you smelled like. What shoes you wore. What colour your bra straps are because apparently women send secret messages to men based on the colour of their bra,” Jimmy finally finishes. “But I went into the least amount of detail without it being suspicious. It’d be weird if I outright refused to talk about you with him.”

My stomach drops at the amount of information he just mentioned. Weeks worth of information. Stuff that should’ve been written down and recorded. I can’t believe he didn’t mention this before.

Despite this, Jimmy’s right. It’d be weird if he refused to talk about me to Hall. Not only that, it would be suspicious. But the fact that Hall has taken a special interest in me, not out of suspicion, but for a more sinister reason, is almost as concerning.

I sigh. “Okay. Jimmy, in the future you have to tell me this information. Even if you think it’s going to creep me out or that you’re protecting me by not saying anything, I have to know. Okay? Have to.”

He grabs my empty hand and gently squeezes. “I will. I shouldn’t have kept that from you,”

Any tension I had towards him slips away as the warmth of his hand wraps around my own. His calloused hands are large and gentle. I break eye contact with him to stare at the embrace. I brush my thumb along the top of his fingers as they apply a reassuring pressure to my hand.

As I stand between Jimmy’s legs, I subconsciously lean forward. He shifts, allowing us to be closer than before. Part of me wishes we were still locked in my office together where there were no prying eyes. I want to relish in the feeling of his arms around me. To linger so close his breath becomes my own.

I allow myself one last moment to memorize the feel of his strong hand.

“We have a lot to talk about once my office is back together,” I murmur.

“Okay,” he whispers.

I squeeze his hand one last time before pulling away without a look back. My shoes echo along the cement floor as I step out of the cell. Nelson hears my footsteps and takes his cue. Jimmy’s door slides shut and closes with a loud clank.

As I gather my cart I feel a set of eyes on me. I look back at Jimmy’s cell to find him watching with care. We share a small, risky smile before I quickly look away. However, as I turn away, I notice another set of eyes intently watching our exchange.

My body stiffens as I lock eyes with Hall. He leans against his cell door, diagonal to Jimmy, twirling his beard between his fingers. My breath catches in my throat as I’m caught off guard. I quickly cover my tracks with a polite smile as I head for the exit. My pace is faster than before and Nelson struggles to keep up.

Keene and Hall aren’t the only ones watching me leave.

#taron egerton #jimmy keene #Jimmy Keen x reader #Jimmy Keene imagine #Jim Keene x reader #jim keene #james keene #James Keen x reader #James Keene imagine #black bird #black bird imagine #Black Bird Apple TV #black bird show

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ladystardust-thinks · 1 year

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Hello There!

My loves,

my name is Ronnie and i try to write. I write for some specific franchises and characters because I'm a tad bit uncultured and I have not watched a lot of stuff. This post will be a list of people I write for and you can request fics. I only write OC and x readers though. I am very sorry if that is not what you are interested in.

the people in italics are those I prefer to write the most about right now (bc I'm just a girl and I have phases ok?) and those in bold are the people I have a request in my inbox so works for them are basically coming soon

Any of the Marauders!

Any of the Daisy Jones and the Six girls!

DJATS; Eddie Roundtree, Warren Rojas

Kingsman; Eggsy, Roxy

Celebrities?; Tom Blyth, Taron Egerton, Taylor Swift, Florence Pugh, Joe Mazzello, Hailee Steinfeld, Suki Waterhouse, Josh Whitehouse, Maya Hawke, Joseph Quinn, Joe Keery

Stranger Things; Eddie Munson, Robin Buckley, Nancy Wheeler, Steve Harrington, Chrissy Cunningham

misc; tom blyth's!billy the kid, eloise bridgerton, razzle dingley, brian may, roger taylor, paris geller, rory gilmore, lorelai gilmore, jess mariano

Any Spiderverse Character!!

ATTENTION!

this list is not limited, if you have any request about the marvel or star wars universe send it around.

I do not write rpf (real people fiction) smut! The celebrity members list only includes fluff and light angst! I am not sure if I will be writing smut in general.

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b3llb00 · 6 months

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I’m right here..

Taron Egerton X Bella (Can be reader)

Summary: Taron had a nightmare about Bella, and he needs to know that she’s really here with him…

Theme(s): Smut, angst, fluff.

Wc: 2,492.

Contains: [ Cockwarming, spooning ], grinding, slight humping, making out ( I guess ), French kissing, normal kissing, nightmare, hugs, sweet touching, just overall sweetness in general actually..

[ ‼️ WARNING! SMUT AHEAD!! If you are not comfortable reading smut, please don’t continue reading. I would say come back when you’re 14-16+, but most smut is 18+. Just come back when you’re ready, lol. I’m just tryna protect y’all.. ‼️]

Reading Key:

T: = Taron’s P.O.V

B: = Bella’s P.OV.

Taron jolted awake, sweat dripping down his forehead, his breathing extremely heavy, his eyes watering, his body shaking slightly with fear.

He had a nightmare, a terrible one at that. Bella was gone, dead, in his arms, blood the shade of crimson stained her body and his arms. He tried to shake her awake, he tried to lie to himself, he kept trying to tell himself she was still alive, but it wasn’t working. It was too late.

Hey, honey, w-what’s wrong.? Bella asks softly, her eyes slowly opening. Her eyes then immediately going to Taron’s shaking figure beside her. He looked so scared, so nervous, he thought it was real.. he thought she was gone.

Bella's voice snapped Taron out of his nightmare realm, and back into reality. He immediately reached out to her, pulling her into a tight embrace. His heart was still pounding in his chest, and he struggled to catch his breath.

Bella... Oh god, it was just a nightmare. You're here, you're safe.

He buried his face in her hair, inhaling her scent, finding comfort in her presence.

I dreamt that... that I lost you. It felt so real, Bella. I couldn't save you... I... I couldn't...

His voice cracked, and tears welled up in his eyes. He held onto her tightly, as if afraid that letting go would make the nightmare come true.

I'm sorry... I'm sorry for waking you up like this. I just... I needed to feel you, to know that you're here with me.

He pressed gentle kisses to her forehead, her cheeks, and her lips as if trying to convince himself that she was truly there, and not dead like in his mind.

I love you, Bella. I can't bear the thought of losing you.

I— shhh, shh.. it’s okay, baby. it’s okay. I’m right here, shh. I wrapped my arms around you instantly, whispering repeatedly how I’m alright, I’m here, I’m safe, with you.

It’s okay, love. It’s alright, love you too.. I kissed the side of your head, feeling your body shake as it held onto me, I was terrified with how scared you were. I was trying to comfort you the best I could.

It’s okay. it’s okay, baby. I’m here, I’m not going nowhere. I wiped the stray tears from your eyes, my heart breaking at the sigh of you like this. I leaned forward, pressing soft and tender kisses on the outside of your eyes, trying to catch any tears that may fall.

I was usually the one to have nightmares, and you would always confront me. But now, it’s the other way around. I’ve never expected you to be this scared over a nightmare, though.

I let my hands rest on the sides of your face, my thumbs grazing your cheekbones softly. I knew it was going to take you an awhile to shake off the dream, I knew it was going to be a while of you hugging me, refusing to let go. Not until you knew I was truly there with you, hugging you, not dead in your arms.

Taron clung to Bella as if she were his lifeline, finding solace in her soothing words and gentle touch. He closed his eyes, letting her presence and tender gestures calm his racing heart. The nightmare still lingered in his mind, the fear and helplessness haunting him.

I'm sorry, Bella. I didn't mean to wake you up like this... It's just... it felt so real. Losing you... I can't bear the thought of it. He leaned his forehead against hers, their noses touching as he sought comfort in their closeness.

You're my anchor, Bella. You keep me grounded and keep the nightmares at bay. I don't know what I would do without you.

He held her face gently in his hands, his eyes searching hers for reassurance.

Promise me you'll always be here, Bella. Promise me you'll never leave my side. I need you more than words can say.

I- I promise you, baby. We hold our faces in each other's hands. Your hands were incredibly shaky as you clung to me. My hands also started to shake with fear at the sigh of you like this. I saw the absolute fear in your eyes, the way you looked at me as if I was going to die any second.

I promise you, baby. Imma stays here, as long as I live. I look up at you, sounding as gentle and as soft as I can. I slowly pull you closer to me, your breath hitching slightly as I speak softly, our lips brushing as the words flow effortlessly out of my mouth.

I love you, Taron... I move my body even closer to you, closing the gap and kissing you softly, with the lightest amount of pressure. Just trying to fully snap you back into reality.

As much as you wanted to just stay like this, you also needed me in a different way, a sexual way. You needed to be inside of me, just burying your cock deep inside of me, feeling my warmth and slickness against your cock that’s starting to throb in your pants.

I can tell you need me in another way, and I whisper, just getting wet at the thoughts we practically shared.

I need you too, know. I- if you want. I start up, my voice almost sounding suggestive that we should just give into our desires.

Taron's breath hitched as Bella's soft touch and gentle words reached his senses, momentarily distracting him from the lingering fear of his nightmare. The warmth of her lips against his own ignited a spark within him, reminding him of the love and desire they shared.

Bella... I want you. I need you. I need to feel you on top of me, to remind myself that you're here, that you're real.

His voice was filled with longing and desperation as he spoke, his hands sliding down to her waist, pulling her body closer to his own. He could feel the heat radiating between them, a delicious tension building in the air.

Let's forget about the nightmare, just for a little while. I want to lose myself in you, in the pleasure we create together.

He kissed her passionately, his lips hungrily seeking hers, as his hands roamed her body, memorizing every curve and dip.

Take me, Bella. Take me and make me forget. Show me that I'm alive, that I have you by my side.

I- fuck, baby. I whisper, closing my eyes and leaning into your body impossibly closer. I slowly run my hands down your body, your muscles flexing and contracting under your shirt, I leave it on. I just need your cock inside of me, not moving, just inside of me, cockwarming me.

I’ll take you, baby.. just.. let me... I slowly untie your sweatpants, before dipping my hand inside your pants and boxers, grabbing your already hard and throbbing cock. My breath hitches as I slowly pull your dick out of the confines of your sweatpants. Your shaft twitches in my touch, pre-cum already leaking from the tip. I lean into your neck, whispering softly.

Oh, my god, baby. I slowly push my shorts and panties to the side, revealing my already soaking wet cunt, my arousal pouring down my legs.

I slowly grab your broad shoulders, leaning myself back against the pillows, waiting for you to line yourself up and fill me immediately.

Taron's body trembled with anticipation as Bella's hands explored his body, igniting every nerve and inch of him. He let out a soft sigh as her warm touch enveloped his hard, throbbing cock, his hips instinctively moving towards her.

Fuck, Bella... You feel so good, so wet for me. He slowly grazes his hand along her pussy, shivering at the feeling of her cool arousal now on his skin.

His voice was laced with desire and need as he leaned in to kiss her neck, his lips trailing hot and eager kisses along her skin. He could feel her wetness against his fingertips, evidence of her arousal and readiness for him.

I want to be inside you, baby. I want to feel your tightness around me, to lose myself in the heat of our passion.

He positioned himself between her legs, the tip of his cock brushing against her wet folds. With a slow and deliberate movement, he eased himself inside her, gasping at the tightness and warmth that surrounded him.

Fuck, Bella... You're so fucking tight... So fucking perfect.

He held himself still, savoring the feeling of being buried deep within her, his hands moved to the sheets as he fought against the overwhelming urge to move.

Just like this, Bella... Let me stay inside you. Let me feel the connection between us, the intimacy that drives me wild.

Fuckkk, baby.. I whisper. Immediately, I lean my head back, my eyes rolling back as well as I bite my lip, trying to hold back my moans, they escape softly as I feel my warmth engulf your already throbbing cock.

Please, just- stay still, baby. I start massaging your shoulders, relishing in the feeling of your massive cock not moving inside of me. It feels so fucking good, words can’t even describe it.

M~Mmm. I moan out. Your saliva dripped down my neck, and I slowly started to take my tank top off. I shiver at the feeling of my breasts exposed to your eyes, my nipples hardening as the cool air flies over them.

Then, I slowly slide my shorts and panties off, all while still having you inside me. You also followed suit. Our lean, fit bodies fitting perfectly together. I wrap my hands around your neck again, pulling you in for a passionate kiss. Our wet, heavy, warm tongues glide over each other with ease.

We both didn’t want to movie. We just wanted to feel each other, our hips rested perfectly together, not rolling against one another like normal.

Taron's body tensed with pleasure as Bella's hands worked their magic on his shoulders, massaging away any lingering tension. He let out a low growl of satisfaction, feeling her warmth and wetness surrounding his cock.

Fuck, Bella... You feel incredible. So tight and perfect.

He savored the sight of her removing her top, revealing her beautiful breasts to his hungry gaze. His eyes drank in every detail, the way her nipples hardened under the cool air, the way her skin glowed with desire.

You're so fucking beautiful, Bella. I can't get enough of you.

He groaned into the kiss they shared, their tongues dancing in a passionate and desperate embrace. Their bodies pressed together tightly, the heat between them intensifying as they relished in the pleasure of being so intimately connected.

Just like this, Bella... Let's stay like this for a while. Let's savor the feeling of our bodies intertwined, the electric current that courses through us.

His hands roamed her back, his touch gentle and loving, as he continued to kiss her with a hunger born from their shared desire.

I love you, Bella. I love you more than words can express.

Fuck, I love you too, baby. I moan softly at the end, the way your cock vibrated inside of me sent shivers down my spine. My walls clamping down on you, my pussy practically already drooling out onto our legs and the sheets.

Your so- so warm.. mm.. I break the kiss to speak, wetting my lips before I bury my face in the crook of your neck. My moans are soft and my breath hitched against your skin. My eyes fluttering close as I slowly grab your waist, turning us over so you’re spooning me. I moan at the better angle.

I felt your muscular arms wrap around my waist with ease. I sigh in context, my muscles start to relax as I feel sleep start to come back to me.

I- I’m getting sleep again, baby. I feel like I could fall asleep like this, because I could. Our bodies pressed tightly together, your hips slowly pushing into the back of mine, not pulling out though, just relishing in this beautiful feeling.

Taron's body shivered with pleasure as Bella's tightness enveloped him, her moans and the wetness surrounding him driving him to the edge of ecstasy. He held onto her waist tightly as she turned them over, spooning her from behind, their bodies fitting perfectly together.

Mmm, Bella... You feel so good like this. So fucking perfect.

He nuzzled his face into the crook of her neck, inhaling her intoxicating scent as his hips moved in a slow and steady rhythm, grinding against her from behind. The sensation was intense, his cock pulsating with every movement.

Just like this, love... Let me take care of you. Let me show you how much I adore you.

He pressed soft kisses along the nape of her neck, his hands caressing her body, exploring every curve and dip. The intimacy of their position, and the way they were connected, fueled the fire of their desire.

I want you to drift off to sleep, Bella. I want to be here with you, holding you close. We can savor this moment together, in each other's arms.

His voice was filled with tenderness and adoration as he continued to move against her, his body syncing with hers, their connection deepening with every breath.

F-fuck, darling- I whisper, your words sending a shiver down my spine. My voice gradually starting to lace with sleep. I struggled to stay awake, leaning back as much as I could, trying to get you to penetrate me deeper. My walls fluttering around your cock even more as the deep, red blush on my cheeks grew by the second.

I move my hair to the other side, along you to kiss along my neck, all while your hot breath hitched at my ear and collarbone. It felt so fucking good.

I- goodnight, baby- I whisper, feeling myself slowly drift off to sleep. I’m glad I could help with that nightmare, heh.

Taron's movements became slower and more deliberate, matching the rhythm of Bella's drifting consciousness. He continued to shower her with tender kisses, his touch gentle and loving as he savored the feeling of her walls fluttering around him.

Goodnight, my love... Thank you for being here, for chasing away the nightmares. You're my savior, Bella.

He whispered against her skin, his voice filled with a mixture of exhaustion and contentment. He held her tightly, their bodies still connected, as he allowed himself to succumb to the sweet embrace of sleep.

Wrapped in each other's arms, they found solace and peace, drifting off into a peaceful slumber, knowing that they had each other to chase away the darkness of the night.

And as they slept, their bodies remained entwined, their hearts beating in sync, a testament to the love and connection they shared.

Made with FlowGPT.

My FlowGPT profile:

( Feel free to check out the prompts of Taron and his characters by me if you’d like. :P )

#taron egerton smut #taron egerton x reader #taron x reader #i love taron #artists on tumblr #txt #tag game

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greensequoia · 2 years

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IN GENERAL, THIS BLOG IS 18+. Some fics MAY be for all ages, in which case they will be specially noted in the individual tags. OTHERWISE, the fic is designated as MINORS DNI. Heed this warning, the fic warnings, and, most importantly, Wanda's warning. Feel free to request a fic following the guidelines and let me know if you want it specifically for 'all ages'. Upset messages will not be responded to. Thank you and happy reading!

✴masterpost✴

completed

taron egerton

☞if the fates allow | dean x reader | 3k Dean knows he shouldn’t be in love with you. And yet, here he is, on your doorstep, drunk and spilling all the secrets he’d apparently been keeping for the last four years. He knows he shouldn’t be in love with you, his best friend’s very recent ex. But Dean’s in love with you, and the frigid breeze of Christmas in Los Angeles whispers to let him in. [tags: angst, explicit language, general drunkeness, declaration of love]

coming soon

formula one

☞daylight | lando norris x reader

You've tried to cut this off so many times, but he managed to call you back every time. You've tried to ignore his calls and texts so many times, but found yourself nearly depending on them at this point. But hardest of all, you've tried to pretend that your loveless relationship gives you a fraction of what Lando seems to give so easily. [tags: post-sex haze, explicit language, aftercare, fluff, cheating, failed relationships, random villainous indycar boyfriend]

chris evans and characters

☞keep me in your chest | chris x reader

Two years into your marriage, you and Chris are having a baby. This will be a series of snapshots into your relationship while preparing for a baby and then some. [tags: literally all the fluff, smut, explicit language, domesticity, miscarriage scare (but 100% happy ending)]

#taron egerton x reader #chris evans x reader #lando norris x reader

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nuggets-and-french-fries · 1 year

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~Imagines coming soon.

Note: Please bare with me while I work on getting all these written and posted.

P.S: These aren’t in order of request which is how I try and post them.

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1. Jimmy Keene Ten tiny toes and Ten tiny fingers part 2. This is something I wanted to write.

2. #4 smut prompt requested on Wattpad.

3. Evan Peters and Finn Wittrock smut imagine requested on A03.

4. "Baby, we are the law." Jimmy Keene prompt imagine requested on Tumblr by Anonymous.

5. "I need you to stay close to me." Taron Egerton prompt imagine requested on Tumblr by Anonymous.

6. 74: "Who the fuck do you think you're talking to?" Jimmy Keene prompt imagine requested on Tumblr by Anonymous.

7. 134: "You'll be the death of me." Taron Egerton prompt imagine requested on Tumblr by Anonymous.

8. 76: "Get the fuck over it." Jimmy Keene angst prompt imagine requested on Tumblr by Anonymous.

9. Richard Madden imagine requested on Tumblr by Anonymous.

10. Evan Peters x reader x John Krasinski imagine requested on A03.

11. Taron Egerton x Tom Holland imagine requested on A03.

12. Eggsy x Merlin medical exam imagine requested on A03.

===

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babybluebex · 4 years

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waiting [robin of loxley]

pairing: robin hood/robin of loxley x fem reader (y/n)

summary: when robin of loxley is sent to fight, y/n figures out what he meant to her, and how the anti-hero named the hood factors into her lost love.

word count: 7700+ (oog sorry)

warnings: d*eath mentions, ab*se mentions, v*olence mentions

a/n: so this took a HOT MINUTE to get out, but i was surprised at the response to my teaser about this. hope you enjoy!!

tag list: @nolmao89

“Rob!” I cried, huffing out in frustration. “You’re so much better than I am, why do you need my help?”

“I didn’t really need your help,” Rob began, the tip of his tongue poking out of his lips as he concentrated. “I figured helping me train was better than whatever you were supposed to do.”

He was right, of course. What else did I have to do? My mother would want me to master my needlepoint-- a skill that noble women were expected to know, for some reason; my father would want me to be praying. Neither option was too great, so, of course, when Rob asked me to help him practice archery, I jumped at the chance.

Before I could react, Rob released an arrow, and it whistled through the air before burying itself deep into a tree across the clearing. He had me draw a crude bullseye on the bark with chalk, saying that I should do it because I have a steadier hand, and his arrow was just centimeters off of the exact middle. “Good job,” I told him. “I can’t do that.”

It was my turn, and I notched the arrow in the bow. I wasn’t lying for the sake of making Rob feel better. I was truly rubbish at archery. My arrow landed inside the target, thankfully, but nowhere near the accuracy that Sir Robin had. Rob was two years older than I, making him nineteen, but we had been close since we were little. There weren’t too many noble families in Nottingham and, as soon as I was born, Rob and I were matched. I have always known him as the man I would marry as soon as I turned eighteen, but I never considered Rob my “boyfriend” or whatever other girls my age would call him. He was my best friend, through everything that we had ever done.

Rob laughed. I was sure it was at me, because we both knew that archery was not my strong suit, and I chuckled along with him. “You’re getting better,” he told me. “I think, within a year or so, you’ll be cracking.”

I sighed. “I don’t want it to take a year,” I said. I marched over to the tree and gripped the thin arrow, and I yanked it out of the tree. Mine hadn’t buried as deep as Rob’s had, and he followed me and easily retrieved his own arrow. “I would very much like to hit the bullseye before our wedding.”

“I’m sure we can manage that,” Rob laughed. “It might be a fluke, but--”

“Rude ass,” I said with a smile, hitting his shoulder with my fist. “You don’t think I could learn in six months?”

“I’m sure you could,” Rob began. “But I wouldn’t bet money on it.”

“You’re so mean to me!” I gasped, and Rob smiled so widely that his eyes wrinkled up. “Why am I marrying you?”

“Because you have no choice?” Rob offered, and I shrugged.

“You’re right,” I said. “Annoying, but right.”

Robin smiled, and he ruffled my hair up. “I believe that you can learn by the wedding,” he told me, notching another arrow and letting it fly within seconds. Another bullseye, just off of the exact middle, and Rob scowled. “In fact, I’m sure of it.”

“Why did you doubt me, then?” I asked.

“It’s my duty,” Robin said, cocking his head as he examined the target. He suddenly seemed serious, all mirth in his voice gone. “As a man. A husband.”

“To tear me down?” I questioned, my eyebrows drawing in confusion.

“So my father tells me,” Rob said. He let the arrow go, and it landed next to the first one. “He tells me that a husband has to show dominance in every situation. If my wife dares to even make a joke that’s funnier than mine…” He paused and trailed off. “It’s ridiculous.”

“Quite so, I’d say,” I agreed. “Who’s your father to tell you how to treat me?”

Robin nodded. He studied the target for a moment more, then strung up the remaining arrow in his quiver. He took a deep breath, then released it, and I watched as the arrow sailed easily to the direct middle of the target. The scowl remained on Rob’s face as I retrieved the arrows, and I noticed how forlorn he was as I replaced them in the quiver on his back. “Rob?” I said softly. “What’s the matter?”

Rob turned to me, his jaw set tightly. His eyes were set on mine, and I saw the glossiness at the edges. “I have to go,” he mumbled.

I took a step back. “Did I say something?” I asked.

“No,” Rob started, and he pulled off his quiver. He let it, arrows and all, clatter to the leaf-carpeted ground before he wiped his hands down his face. He looked tired, and his forehead wrinkled as he set his jaw once more. “No, no, you’ve done nothing wrong.”

“What do you mean, then?” I asked. “Where are you going?”

“Y/N, please!” Rob said. He had never raised his voice at me like that before, and I knew instantly that whatever was wrong was bigger than me. He drew in a deep, rattling breath, and I took his arm in my grip. “I didn’t want to tell you like this. I wanted you to be happy, I wanted myself to be happy, Goddamn it all--”

“Robin, you’re scaring me,” I said softly. “Just tell me, please--

“I was drafted,” Rob said suddenly, his voice low and quiet.

I was quiet as I absorbed what he said. Drafted. The word swam around in my head, and my vision became blurry with tears. My Rob was drafted. “Rob,” I whimpered. “No. Please, you can’t--”

“I don’t have a choice, Y/N!” Robin told me. He was cross with me, I knew it, and I expected him to lash out at any moment. I had never seen it before, but my friends who were already married told me about how often their husbands corrected them with a hit. I was waiting on the day that Rob began to treat me more like a wife and less like a friend; if there ever was a moment like that, it was now. “I have to go.”

I took a deep and steadying breath, but the ache in my chest and stomach was too great. Robin was a great fighter and obviously skilled in archery, but he was too kind. He could never kill anybody. The Crusades would be Sir Robin of Loxley’s undoing. “How long have you known?” I asked softly.

“A month,” Rob told me, looking at the ground.

“A month!” I exclaimed. “You’ve known that you have to go fight in the Crusades for a month, and you never told me? Robin!”

Rob didn’t respond, urging me to move a step closer to him to extract an answer. His eyes lifted from the ground to my face for only a second before retreating downwards once more, and I sighed. “When do you leave?”

“Tomorrow morning,” Rob told me.

I let his words sink in. Tomorrow morning, Rob would go to war. Tonight would be our last night together. I took in a deep breath and stepped even closer, and I put my arms around Rob. It hurt my heart so immensely to know that this might be the last time I saw my best friend, and I sniffled away my tears. Rob had a habit of getting upset himself when he saw me getting upset, and he had been that way for years. Even when I was little and would cry as toddlers were wont to do, he would do the same.

“Hey, hey,” Rob whispered, lifting my face out of his neck. His eyes were rimmed with red as he tried to hold in his emotions, and he swiped his thumb across my cheek. “No tears, please, my love. I don’t want my last memory of you to be a sad one.”

I didn’t want to tell him to not let it be. I didn’t want to tell him that, deep down, I hoped that our last memory would be in the morning. I hoped to see him off, to kiss his hand and call after him as he left. I didn’t want to tell him all of that, because I’m sure he knew. Instead, I hugged him, and I breathed in his smell. “Please come back,” I gasped, my fingers tearing at his shirt. I needed him close, and he complied. “Please, Robin… Please.”

“I will,” Rob whispered, pressing his cheek into mine. “You have my word.”

I think we both knew, in that moment, how empty his oath was. He had no control. Nobody did. I didn’t believe in God in the way that my father wanted me to but, that night, as I sat in my bed, I prayed for my Robin. I had always assumed that Robin would be around for me, and I could hardly bear the thought that he wouldn’t be just a woodland clearing away.

The sun baked my body when I woke up, and I felt nauseous and stuffy. I had laid awake for hours, crying and praying and wishing and hoping, and I desperately needed a drink of water. My mind was foggy as I splashed my face with warm water from the basin next to my window, and I pulled my hair up off my neck. The birds chirped beautifully, and I wondered what time Robin would be over. He always found a way to sneak in without my father knowing to steal an apple and tease me and convince me to train with him. Whether it be archery or sword-fighting, Robin loved training. It was probably the only thing in life he really cared about.

I began to pull off my sweat-soaked nightshirt, and I spied a small envelope on my desk. The paper was smooth and cream-colored with a sprig of a musky herb stuck to the back with wax. Robin’s handwriting was on the front, my name emblazoned with patches of running ink from where Rob had likely shed tears whilst writing the letter.

My love, the letter began. As much as I would enjoy seeing you one last time before I leave, I can’t bring myself to ask you to meet me in the town square. It would hurt you too much to see me. My father cut my hair just before I began writing this, and I look like a fool. I don’t want your last memory of me to be looking like a court jester. It hurts me to write this, but we both know that I won’t be returning home. Even if I physically make it back to Nottingham, I will not be your Rob. I want you to remember me as Rob. Remember the time when you cornered me during a sword fight, knocked my own sword from my hand, and laughed. I love thinking of you like that; joyful and victorious and invincible. You looked beautiful that day. I can still feel the bark of the tree against my back as your hair fell in your eyes and you jested with me to “try again”. Have you ever heard of a sore loser? You’re a sore winner, my love. At the time, I told you that I let you win, but that is far from the truth. You won. Not only did you outsmart me (and let me know that I keep my legs fairly unguarded, which I will put into practice later), but you helped me learn something that I had been repressing for nearly as long as I have known you. I love you. Through and through, for the rest of my days. I love you. I wanted to tell you this morning in the woods, but I felt ill at the fact. It’s easier to admit this over a written medium. I knew the exact moment you cornered me with your sword that I loved you. I’ve never loved anybody more than you, and I doubt I ever will. I have to live with the fact that I’ll never know if you love me back. If you do, though, promise me this: stay true to me. Have a home for me to come back to, a bed to call our own, and a love to last for eternity. You, my love, are everlasting. All of my love, Rob.

My tears caught in my throat, and I choked them down with a horrid gagging. I let the letter drop to the floor as I scrambled to get dressed, throwing my dress on and phishing my shoes onto my feet. My corset was loose around my body as I ran, and I barely heard my mother greet me before I was out the door. My feet slapped the grassy ground as I ran, and the bouncing of the corset against my back was enough to make me strip of it and leave it behind me. I heard the bustling of the town in the square as I approached, growing louder and louder as I drew nearer, and a ragged scream came from my throat. “Robin!” I yelled. There was a mass of people at the entrance to the square, and I knew that my sharp elbows were no match against the older, portly men who blocked my way. Through the crowd, I saw the soldier’s white uniforms, and I sobbed. “Rob.”

“Y/N?” A distant and faded call came from the soldiers. I would recognize the sound of my name on his lips anywhere. “Y/N!”

“Rob!” I cried, and I stretched my arm out to try to catch any part of my soldier. My outstretched hand was suddenly filled by a strong and warm hand, and I looked through the crowd to see my Rob holding my hand with the tips of his fingers. His face was pale, his tawny hair barely existent, and his green eyes alert.

“Oi!” he said to the crowd. “I-I need to see my wife!”

Finally, we were pressed together. My face went to his neck as I held him close, and my skin tried to find something to recognize. His uniform, blindingly white with a bright red cross on his chest, was too rough. It wasn’t him. None of this was Rob. “Didn’t you read my letter?” Rob asked, speaking loudly over the crowd cheering for the departing soldiers.

“I did!” I told him. “I just--”

“Oh my days, what are you wearing?” Robin chuckled, but I heard the weakness of his voice behind it.

I couldn’t form words to answer him. Instead, I clutched his face and drew him to me, and I kissed him. Robin didn’t hesitate for a second before putting his arms around me and kissing me back. His hands were firm on my waist, his lips soft against mine, and I felt dizzy when he pulled away. “I love you,” I told him breathlessly, and those dimples appeared in his red cheeks. Rob had the best smile I had ever seen. I was a fool for not knowing years ago that the warmth that Rob gave me was love. I loved Rob.

“I love you too,” Rob told me. There was a tug from behind Rob that drew him away from me, and he looked behind himself to see another soldier, older and who had obviously fought before, pulling him back. “Your ring,” he began quickly. “It’s in my room at my parents’ estate, on my desk. Please--”

“I’ll wear it every day until you come back,” I told him. “I swear to it!”

My body tingled with a sting as Rob was pulled away from me, and I watched as he looked over his shoulder at me one last time. I choked on a sob and I nearly fell to my knees, but several pairs of arms were wrapped around me. My maids, as well as my mother’s maids and my mother herself, were surrounding me, draping coverlets over me to protect me; even though I wore a dress, the fact that I had thrown away my corset and lost my shoes on the run basically meant that I wore nothing at all. I knew that my mother wanted to scold me on how improperly I had acted, but she seemed to know the pain I was in. She hugged me tight, pressing my head into her chest, and she let me cry. I wasn’t sure that I would ever stop.

A year passed painfully slowly. I had found the ring that Rob had indicated and wore it on my left hand every day. It was light and easy, and I imagined Rob’s father standing disapprovingly over his shoulder as he told the blacksmith how to make it. I tested it, and it easily withstood the strain of archery and sword-fighting. I knew that he had it made small so that we could continue our training together once we were married.

The first six months were easy; slow, but easy. I had convinced myself that Rob would be discharged for any number of things and come home to me any day. In my imagination, he would mouth off to a superior-- as he so often did in his youth-- and he would be sent home for disorderly conduct. I foolishly believed the little lie I had concocted. I went about my days as normally as possible, but I never realized how often Rob filled my days until he wasn’t there. I constantly found myself wondering what he was doing before I reminded myself that he was not just on the other side of the clearing.

Then, six months hit. I remembered the exact day we were supposed to be wed, and I could barely bring myself to get out of bed. The day felt like a day of mourning. The entire household was gentle with me, which was expected, but I especially hated it. I sat at breakfast with a blanket over my shoulders, absently listening to the conversation, and it wasn’t until my father barked my name that I truly began listening. “Look at the state of you,” he sneered. “How do you expect us to find you a suitor when you look like that?”

“I have a suitor,” I mumbled. “Robin?” I saw the clench of my mother’s jaw when I mentioned his name, and my heart sank. “What?” I asked. “Why make that face? Mother?”

“My dear…” She started. “We got the news late last night.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” I whispered. My chest hurt, my stomach hurt, and, if I wasn’t sitting, I surely would have fallen. I didn’t have to ask to know what the news she spoke of was.

“You were already asleep,” Mother began.

“Already--!” I started, but held my tongue when I saw my father’s eyes flash with a warning. “You mean to tell me that Rob… Robin is dead?”

“He was badly wounded in battle,” Mother began. “My dear, there was nothing that anybody could have done.”

“And you tell me this on the day…” I started. My words failed me, and I put my hand on the wooden table. I bit my bottom lip hard enough to taste blood, and my hand closed slowly into a fist.

“The day? What day?” My father asked.

“They were to be wed today,” Mother said. “If Sir Robin had not been drafted.”

I sniffled and wiped my eyes with my fingers. I was done with weeping and sobbing. I had had enough of crying, I decided. “I assume that you have already found a replacement,” I mumbled, anger beginning to replace my sadness.

“Of course,” Father said. “We have always had a second option. Sir Robert of Rainault.”

“And who is that?” I asked. “Not from Nottingham, surely?”

“Yes,” Father continued. “The Sheriff.”

I blinked a few times. “The… The Sheriff,” I repeated. “The Sheriff of Nottingham. You want me to marry him? Father, he--! He is older than you!”

“He is the only other nobleman in town,” Father said. “You are not marrying below your station. Even that Loxley boy was a stretch; his father had lost nearly all of their property. They were squarely 50 acres away from having their titles stripped of them. And Sir Robert agreed to let us keep your dowry.”

“I refuse,” I said quickly. “I absolutely refuse! I’d much rather be sent to a nunnery instead!”

“You just might be!” Father said. “There are no further discussions! You are marrying the Sheriff, and that’s that.”

I met him the same night. The Sheriff was a tall man with thinning hair and wandering hands, and I felt sick being in his presence. He wasn’t my Robin. I had sworn to Robin that I would be true to him until he came home and, even though he wasn’t going to return to Nottingham, I intended to keep that promise. I knew better than to explain this to Sir Robert, though. He would have none of a silly little girl who was in love with a dead man. I also knew better than to keep calling him The Sheriff. He told me that Rob would do just fine, and I swore I saw a twinkle of recognition in his eyes. He had to have known that that was what I had called Robin.

We were married exactly a week later. Usually, brides were happy and full of joy. I was shrouded with a veil, and I liked it; nobody could see me cry. The Sheriff’s kiss was nothing like Robin’s. Robin’s kiss was eighteen years in the making, full of unspoken words and harnessed emotions, his mouth salty with tears. The Sheriff kissed me like it was a chore, and I could almost feel the resentment at his core. Robin’s simple ring was replaced by something bigger and more terrible, and I’m sure my husband thought that I had lost Robin’s ring after the wedding. That night, I bit my tongue and cried for Rob. The Sheriff knew, I was sure, but at least I was saying the right name. There was nothing for him to complain about.

However, my husband was wrong. I had not forgotten Robin’s ring. While it was nowhere near as opulent as my wedding ring, it meant the world to me. I couldn’t keep it in our manor, because a maid-- or worse, my husband-- would find it, so I nestled it in a small handkerchief and buried it beneath our tree. The tree with the chalked target for Robin’s archery was the same tree that he had mentioned in his last letter, so I buried the handkerchief there. My tears bubbled up and spilled down my cheeks as I worked to dig with my fingers, and I clenched my sore hands together and mumbled prayer after prayer. I wasn’t sure exactly what I meant by my prayers, an endless stream of ‘please, please, please’, but I hoped that whoever was listening for that sort of thing heard them.

Days passed at a snail’s pace, starting before I wanted but ending before I was ready. Sir Robin of Loxley frequented my dreams, and I would wake my husband up by screaming for Robin. I thought about him more than I did my husband, and, a few months into our marriage, he began to show me what he thought of it. If I even dared to mention the Loxleys in any manner, I was hit. The Sheriff was never particular about where he hit me; wherever was nearest for him to reach was his go-to. I took to wearing sleeved dresses to hide my bruises and cuts (my bastard husband wore rings that left me with scrapes all over my body), even during the warm months. That wasn’t the only change to my wardrobe. My husband insisted heavily that I wear a veil to cover my hair, citing how cruel certain men were when they saw a vulnerable woman. That procured a genuine laugh from me, and a swift hit in the face from him.

When I visited my parents, my mother always held my hand the entire time. She knew how badly I was hurting without Robin. Even if I hadn’t loved him so, he was still my best friend. She explained in hushed tones how my father could never understand what Robin meant to me, and that she wouldn’t either, if she had not followed me out of the manor that day he left. She told me that she saw us kiss and reach for each other until we couldn’t anymore, and she told me about how her own heart hurt when she saw how broken I was over him leaving. Mother never came right out and told me that she regretted helping set up my marriage, but I knew my mother. Her watery eyes when she would pat my cheek and see my wince of pain said all that I needed to know.

Two years after Robin left, nearly to the day, his mother grew very sick. Doctors said that it was a sickness of the brain, associated with Robin’s death and her grief, and she requested that I visit her. As much as Robin was her son, I was her daughter. I read to her and spoke to her about whatever came up, and I saw her getting better. The color returned to her eyes, the same shade of jade that Robin’s were, and I saw the life return to her. The next day, she passed away. I was sitting next to her, reading from a book of fairy tales, when she reached for my hand and took it with a surprising grip. “Y/N...” she began softly. “Was I a good mother to you?”

“Yes, Lady Loxley,” I replied gently. “As good as any.”

She nodded. “That’ll do,” She said, then closed her eyes and swept away amongst the wind. By the end of the year, Robin’s father was gone as well. Two years had come and ravaged the Loxleys. I tried my hardest to follow my rule of not crying anymore that I had made eighteen months ago, but I cried when Robin’s father was laid to rest next to his wife. The Sheriff stood at my side, trying to seem as if he were comforting me in a time of great distress, but, in the privacy of our own home, he scolded me for even keeping in touch with them. “You never even married this boy,” he sneered. “Why do you care for him so much?”

“I was betrothed to him the day I was born,” I said firmly. “I was supposed to marry him, yes, but he was my best friend. I love him, in a way I’m not sure you can fully understand. Your heart is made of ice, Robert.”

Finally, my years of training swords, knives, and archery with Robin came in handy. The Sheriff wound up to hit me, but I dodged his arm and found my own arm wrapped around his throat. “You are a cruel man,” I spat at him. “Do you not understand love, even in its simplest form as childhood friends?”

“I will have your hand cut off for this, stupid girl,” The Sheriff told me.

“I wish you would,” I huffed. “Why did you marry me? You could have left me as I was; alone, heartbroken… You could have left me to be a spinster.”

“Before Loxley, you were betrothed to me,” The Sheriff said. “Your mother and father were married, and the child from that union was promised to me. Then, those damn Loxleys had that child, and he was of higher standing than me. So, you went to him. You were mine before him.”

My grip faltered for long enough to allow The Sheriff to throw me to the ground and wrap his sharp hands around my throat. My father had said it himself; there was always a replacement in the wings. Tears leaked from my eyes as I came to a realization that made me sick, and I drew in a shaking breath. “You control the Crusades’ draft in Nottingham,” I whispered, my voice tightening along with his hands. “You control who is registered, who gets called to service… You did this. You killed Robin.”

I woke up in the morning to the distant sound of my husband shouting. That was usual. When not physical, he was verbal. I pulled myself from the bed and got dressed, making sure to slip a pair of trousers on under my dress. I planned to visit the long-forgotten Loxley estate as I often did, trying to find any remnant of any of them to keep, but every search came up empty. It was eerie, walking through the estate, all previous owners gone to history. It felt wrong. The tapestries on the wall were faded by the sunlight pouring through perpetually open windows, birds roosted in empty corners of the elegant halls, and books had turned brittle. I was surrounded by ghosts whenever I visited the Loxley manor. My favorite place was the attic, where all of the most valuable of their possessions were held. Usually, it was locked with heavy-smelted doors, but I knew Robin’s father well enough to know where he hid the key.

Just as I suspected, my husband was throwing a moody when I came into the dining room. “That damned Hood!” he scowled, holding his newspaper so hard that I was sure it would crumble.

The Hood was a menace to The Sheriff. He stole from all of the more noble in Nottingham and distributed the wealth to the people who lived in squalor on the outskirts of the town. I admired what The Hood did, but I knew better than to admit that. “If I ever catch that bastard, I will have him killed.”

“For what exactly?” I asked.

“What not?” The Sheriff scoffed. “Thievery… Other things.”

“There are plenty of thieves in Nottingham,” I replied. “You don’t like The Hood because he constantly evades capture and embarrasses you.”

My husband looked at me with cold eyes. He studied me, trying to find something to take problem with, and he finally said, “Leave.”

I left for the Loxley manner soon after. I was never sure what I was after when I went there. Maybe to find a forgotten memory of some kind. The stone was crumbling, ivy was growing uncontrollably up the side, and the entire place was in complete disrepair. The moment I walked into the warm attic, though, I knew something was different. Everything looked the same, but the energy in the air was different. I stepped carefully, trying not to disrupt the dusted floor. The closer I looked, the more inconsistencies I found since the last time I had visited. That chair had not always faced the wall. The painting of Robin’s father had a small hole in the nose; moths could be to blame, but I doubted it. The differences were small, but I saw them. Someone had been there.

I sat down at a small table, and I tilted my head to see the dust-covered tabletop free of dust in one place. I placed my hand gently in the middle of the clean patch, and I saw a clear handprint. The hand was larger than mine; a man’s hand. I clenched my jaw and carefully palmed a small dagger, and my eyes darted to all sides of the attic. Who else knew where the key was? I heard the gentle coo of a mother pigeon far off, and the rustling of feathers, and my nerves went on high alert. Pigeons were common in the old attic, but never in the morning. “Who’s there?” I shouted, standing suddenly and pushing my chair over with a thunderous crash. “Whoever’s there, you’re trespassing!”

I heard the rustle of a very non-birdlike entity behind me, and I turned just in time to have a knife sail by my head. There stood a large man, easily seven feet tall, skin dark and marked all over with scars. He wore a long coat and held several knives in one hand. His other hand was gone, his arm ending in a haunting nub right above the wrist. “And what about you, my sweet?” he asked in an accented voice as rough as rocks, and he let another knife sail towards me. Robin’s voice whispered in my ear as it always did, telling me what to do, and I threw my arm up to meet the knife in mid-air, knocking it off its course and making it clatter to the side. “You’re trespassing as much as I am.”

“This--!” I began, and paused to dodge another throwing knife. “Is my family’s manor!”

“And what family would that be?” The man asked smoothly, one knife left in his hand.

“My husband!” I yelled, and the final knife sailed by me, and my arm stung as the sharp blade cut my arm on its way past. It began to bleed immediately, and I groaned in pain. “Ah! Fuck!”

“English!” The man shouted, and three arrows buried themselves in the wooden floor just in front of my feet. I looked upwards, tracing the arrows as I had been taught, and my eyes found a dark figure in the beams of the ceiling. They had a large bow and arrow around them, and they traipsed down to the floor with the skill of someone who has always done those sort of stunts. Another arrow was cocked and flew before I could fully finish registering this new person, and it whizzed past my head with an uncomfortable lack of distance. They notched another arrow and let it go within a second, and I dodged it by leaning backwards. My back was not at all ready for the sudden test of flexibility, because I toppled backwards into the table and chair. In my breathless state, I was able to see my new attacker. All skin was covered, from their legs to their hands to their head with a heavy, black hood. The Hood. I had heard my husband speak of him enough times to know him by looks alone. His face was covered by a blue cloth, leaving only his eyes visible. Startlingly green, rimmed with red and purple exhaustion, trained on me with murder in his eyes. The next arrow that flew buried itself right next to my head, and the man stepped closer and closer to me with each arrow. He walked easily, firing arrows with precise expertise, and the larger man shouted at him. “Hurry now, English!” he yelled. “Finish this!”

I was frozen in plain fear by the time the man was right on me. I was shaking as I stared up at him, and he trained an arrow at my face. I scrambled backwards, trying to escape in any capacity, and my hand slipped from under me when it caught on my veil. It slipped off of my head and I fell backwards and smacked my head against the wooden floor, and my eyes watered with pain. When I looked at the archer next, those hard green eyes had softened, and his arms went slack for a split second. That, the moment of hesitation where he realized that he was about to kill a married woman, was all I needed. I hooked my feet around his leg and kicked the back of his knee, and he crumpled on top of me with a cry of surprise. The knife in my hand went to his throat, and I wrestled him to the floor. My knee went to his stomach, forcing a gasp from his chest, and my knife nestled easily in the hollow of his neck. “English!” The man yelled with fervor, but the archer-- The Hood, the man called English-- only stared up at me. His chest barely moved, but I could feel his heartbeat against my blade. Scared? Nervous, perhaps? Unsure of what to do when bested by a woman?

I took The Hood with a hand around his throat and forced him to his feet. My knife found home in his neck again, and my eyes trained on the large man across from us. “Who are you?” I asked.

“A better question would be who are you?” The man asked.

“I am Lady Y/N Loxley,” I answered with a bite. “I own this manor.”

“Loxley?” The man asked, a glimmer of recognition in his dark eyes. “As in… Robin of Loxley?”

After four years, the mention of his name no longer fazed me. However, the name seemed to trigger something in The Hood, because he jolted hard enough to force a pained gasp from my mouth as I struggled to restrain him. “Yes,” I replied quickly. “What’s it to you?”

“You were married to him?” the man asked.

“Would you like me to procure a marriage certificate?” I snapped. “Who are you?”

“Take off your captive’s hood,” the man told me. “I’m sure he would be happy to explain.”

I scrunched my nose in frustration, and I huffed, “A name. Now.”

“Yahya,” the man answered. “Little John.”

“Nothing little ‘bout you, mate,” I chuckled lifelessly. “And yours?” I cocked my head to look at The Hood, and I noticed that his hands were up and fingers splayed. He was showing me that he had no weapons. “English, is that what he called you? Or do you prefer The Hood?”

“Take it off,” Little John told me. “Quickly, my lady.”

I stared at Little John for a moment more, then I removed my weapon-free arm from around The Hood’s waist. I tugged his hood backwards and off, and came across the cloth he covered his face with. I worked to unwind it with one hand, and my heart stopped when it passed my face. The smell. I could never forget it. I didn’t have to see his face or hear his voice to know. The smell of him was enough to force tears to fall. My Robin.

I was frozen as Robin took off the rest of his disguise, and he turned to me with wetness in his eyes. My mouth was open in shock as I tried to process what I was seeing; my Robin was no child of nineteen anymore. He was freshly twenty-three now, a seasoned veteran of the Crusades, his whole body firm and built in a way that my little Robin never could have dreamed of. I felt sick. My knife fell from my hands and to our feet with a metallic racket, and I closed my mouth. “Robin,” I choked out.

Robin took a step towards me, and I took a step backwards. No. It couldn’t be. “No,” I whispered. “No! Y-You’re dead--”

“My love,” Robin said, and I drew in a wrecked sob. His voice was lower as well. He was so different from the boy who had left me, but I knew that he was the same on the inside. “Who told you that?” There was hurt in his green eyes, and I couldn’t control myself anymore. I carefully approached him and put my hand on his cheek, and the warmth of his skin finally convinced me. My Robin was home.

“Where have you been?” I asked shakily. “W-What happened to you?”

“I was there this whole time,” Robin told me, his eyebrows furrowing. There was a small scar at the arch of his left eyebrow that left a small bald patch. “Have you not gotten my letters? I wrote to you every day.”

I shook my head quickly. “No,” I told him. “I never received any letters.”

“What happened to this place?” Robin asked. “Where’s my mother?”

My heart fell into my stomach. He didn’t know. “Robin,” I whispered. “Your mother and father passed away several years ago. It’s been empty since.”

Robin’s jaw tightened, and he shook his head in disbelief. “No,” he said. “I would have been told, even though… It’s true?”

“Robin, I’m so sorry,” I murmured.

Robin’s arms went tightly around me, and he unleashed sobs into my neck. The sound of his crying hurt my chest, and I followed him as he sank down to the floor. My poor Robin had been through so much. He still had a lot to learn, though.

Robin pulled himself from my neck, and I wiped his cheeks with the corner of my sleeve. “Why did you wear that veil?” he asked. “I thought only married women…”

“Robin,” I started, wincing. He would be hurt, no matter the way I phrased it. “I didn’t want to. I truly, truly did not want to get married. I was happy to keep my promise to you, but… My father arranged a marriage for me, and I had no choice. I said no, but we were married just the same.”

Robin was quiet, and he hastily took my hand and examined it. My rings were on my hand, no sight or even tan line from his, and he stared at my hand, chewing on his bottom lip. “You promised me--”

“I know what I promised you, Robin,” I sniffled. “I know. I tried to contest it at every turn, but it still happened. If it is any consolation, I do not love him. I’m not sure he loves me either.”

“Do you love me still?” Robin asked gently.

“Of course I do, you absolute toff,” I whispered. “You have no idea how long I’ve mourned you. I waited for you every day. Even after getting married, I still waited for you.”

“Would you leave him?” Robin asked.

“You know I can’t do that,” I whispered as I gently pushed his tawny hair aside. “A woman of my standing, leaving her husband… It doesn’t happen.”

“You called me--” Robin started but stopped in his tracks. “You called me The Hood.”

I nodded. “Everybody in Nottingham knows you,” I told him. “You actually stole quite a bit from my husband. Honestly, he deserves it.” I managed a small smile, but Robin’s discomfort continued.

“No, no,” he said. “I only steal from the rich.”

“Robin,” I began. “I am the rich. Even if I was not born to the family I am, I married into a wealthy family. Formerly wealthy, that is.”

“Who?” Robin asked firmly. “Who took you from me?”

I sighed. “Rob- -“

“No!” He cried and stood up. “Who makes you wear that veil? Who did I steal from? Who took you from me?”

My eyes flickered from Robin’s face to the floor, where his bow and arrows lay forgotten. “Sir Robert of Rainault,” I answered. “The Sheriff.”

Robin looked at me, watching me, looking for a sign that I was joking. When it was obvious that I was serious, though, he let out a heavy breath. “You’re married to that man,” he began carefully. “Does he hurt you?”

“Define ‘hurt’,” I mumbled.

“Y/N!” Robin shouted. “You know what I mean! Does he hit you?”

“Yes,” I hissed. “He does! What do you want me to say to you, Robin?”

“I want you to say my name,” Robin said. “You used to call me Rob.”

“I did,” I acquiesced. “I used to. But that was four years ago. We were different people then, Robin. We-we were children. I’m not seventeen anymore, and you’re not nineteen! Robin, we can’t pick up where we left off because that was worlds ago. I’m sorry, but I can’t do anything. I wish I could. I wish I could find a way to annul my marriage and be with you, but that’s…” I groaned. “That’s impossible. I love you, but there’s nothing we can do about that.”

“English,” John said, and Robin turned to him. As he turned, I noticed a large, raised scar on the back of his neck, and I bit my cheek. He had been through so much. “We have things to do.”

“I’m sorry, John, but I’m busy,” Robin sighed, gesturing to me. “Reuniting with my wife? This is important. You can wait.”

“Can they, though?” John asked, tossing his hand out in frustration. “Living off of their last cents, they need our help.”

“Who?” I asked.

“The lower classes,” John told me. “That is why English does what he does.”

“What?” I said. “Steal from the rich to give to the poor? Is that what you call honorable?”

“Don’t you even gripe about honor,” Robin laughed ruefully, turning back to me. “You get no say.”

“Why?” I asked. “Because I was forced into marriage?”

“Because you didn’t keep your word,” Robin said. “You swore to it, Y/N! You swore to wait for me!”

“Get it through that thick skull!” I cried. “I did not want to! I was forced! Does that mean anything to you? I was either supposed to get married or go live as a nun! You know me, I would never survive in a nunnery! It was the only thing I could do! I don’t know how to make you understand, but I didn’t want to, and there’s no way for me to get out of it! Robin, I…” I took a deep breath and clenched my hands into tight fists to calm myself down, and I softly said, “I love you. I always have and I always will, but there is literally nothing that either of us can do. I am trapped.”

Robin watched me cool down from my outburst, and he carefully approached me. His blue face cloth was still in his hand, and he gently wiped my wet cheeks with the corner. “You always cry when you get frustrated,” he whispered. “You have always done that, ever since you were small. My love, I am so sorry.”

I sniffled. “I tried to wait for you,” I told him. “I tried as hard as I could, but… You never came home. I was told that you died and there was no point in waiting for you, but I did. I never stopped waiting. Never.”

Robin carefully raised his mossy green eyes to mine. “I never thought I’d see this place again,” he admitted gently. “I never thought I’d see you again.”

“Well,” I said, my eyes watering. “Here we are.”

#robin hood #robin of loxley #robin hood x reader #robin of loxley x reader angst #taron egerton x reader #robin of loxley x reader #taron egerton x reader angst #angst #fanfic #mine #elton john #rocketman

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adorethedistance · 3 years

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Taron Egerton Masterlist

General Masterlist

My complete Taron Egerton masterlist as of 11/3/20

All my fics will be linked below the cut.

Taron Egerton

Quite Lippy ✧ Thunder is anxiety inducing to say the least; upon learning about your fear of storms, Taron enlists one of his embarrassing moments to distract you for a little while.

Cuffed ✧ Taron is a secret submissive and a shiny pair of cuffs is just the right thing to put the new dynamic in motion. (18+)

Road trip ✧ A road trip with your best friend, her boyfriend, and his best friend Taron, has tensions running high. Things tend to get awkward when you’re stuck sitting with someone you had an open-ended one night stand with.

✵ characters ✵

Eggsy Unwin

Garter getaway ✧ You follow the handsome Eggsy to the bar where sexually charged flirting will ensue that is, before you realize he’s stolen an item from you.

The firebird ✧ Pretending to be newly weds at a ball with Eggsy would be easy, if he hadn’t stood you up a few days prior.

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yelenasdog · 4 years

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romance and espionage (eggsy unwin x fem reader)

genre: fluff w/ whole lotta angst

summary: who knew names could be such a touchy subject?

words: 2.4k

warnings: literally saying fuck everyother sentence, kissing, golden circle spoilers (is that a thing? idk), mentions of harry’s supposed death, mentions of roxy’s death, guns, and i think thats it.

ok, all my cm moots don’t judge me.

a/n: ight so uhh as i’m posting this i’m finding out taron is an incel so that’s kinda oW but uhh i haven’t seen the secret service, i just rewatched the golden circle the other night and hyperfixated on taron so... uh here’s this LMAO. also! this takes place after the golden circle, and reader took roxy’s spot as lancelot. ok enjoy!!

♔♂♔

“God, Eggsy, would you quiet down?!”

He snarled meanly in a way that could make Bennie and Jet’s metallic forms cower in fear, his thin lips turning into a grimace.

“Don't call me that here. It’s Galahad, and Galahad only.”

The other agent only scoffed, rolling her eyes.

Lancelot’s surroundings were dark, although quite stunning nonetheless. It was clear and starry night sky, perfect for romance, the worst for espionage. The air felt so refreshing on her skin, allowing her to feel free in some way, even just for a moment, which she savoured, as a feeling such as that was rare in her line of work.

Now, if the girl had been with someone other than the annoying, prickish, and (even though it pained her to the highest degree to say it) handsome fellow, she maybe would have tried to have a little fun to pass the time. Maybe fool around a bit, fraternize with a coworker, eh?

But alas, ever the one with amazing luck, she was stuck with him.

Which meant rather than perhaps getting crescent shaped markings on her hips from a quick rondevu under the indigo sky and sparkling stars, so roughly placed to match the moon that hung in it, she was crouching uncomfortably, only wishing that the former scenario was taking place.

Not that she meant with fucking Eggsy, of course.

Well ok, maybe, just a tad.

“Fine, have it your way, Galahad.” She flailed her arms about in a jazz hand motion, making the blondy roll his twinkly eyes in a boyish manner. She fought the urge to grin widely, a warm feeling blooming in her chest, even at his obvious arrogance and upset towards her.

She wanted to blame his feelings towards her on her being a freshmen agent, recruited right after the convergence of Kingsman and Statesman in an effort to rebuild the organization. She had been childhood friends with Roxy, who had long ago tried to get Y/n to join the agency. When faced with her friend’s death, she wanted to honor her wishes, even if this wish was a little, well, extreme.

He only sighed in response to Y/n, tapping the side of his thick rimmed glasses twice.

Y/n’s eyes followed his hands as he did so, enjoying what she was seeing a great amount. She bit her bottom lip subconsciously, losing all focus that was there to begin with.

“Lancelot? Lancelot? For fucks sake, Y/n!”

She snapped her head up, her eyes becoming magnified even further through the faux tortoise shell glasses that Unwin would never admit framed her face wonderfully.

No, not a chance.

He wouldn’t dare even let the thought about how the soft skin of her freckled nose looked even more kissable, her eyes even more full of depth and wonder, or how kind and sweet she looked when she tucked a stray strand of hair away from her face. All because of the damned glasses. Never.

So rather, he settled for pointing over to where the subject of their stakeout was now standing, gun in hand as he conversed with one of his comrades.

But although her body followed his, listening to his directions, most of the information was going in one ear out the other, her brilliant mind occupied by a certain agent and his endeavors.

She was hard in thought, wondering about names of all things. A simple subject, easy to address, you would think. But apparently it was not so, not at all.

You see, Eggsy never had called Y/n by her name. It was always either “Lancelot”, or “Agent”, Y/n only being used for the exception of if he needed to quickly grab her attention.

And on the flip side, she was never allowed to call him anything other than Galahad. Agent was sparse, it put her on very thin ice, close to splitting at any second with no prior notice.

Now obviously, with Y/n being Y/n, she was determined to crack his rough exterior, despite however much he presented himself as “unbreakable”. (His words, not hers.) So, much to his displeasure, she often called out a quick “Oi, Unwin!”, or a “Jesus, Eggsy!” whenever he got in her way, which usually resulted in a similar distasteful glance to what she was recieving now being shot in her direction.

“Alright, Eggsy, I’m thinking that his partner is-“ She used her glasses X-Ray feature, confirming her suspicions. “The partner is in the abandoned pharmacy across the street, should we wait or go now?” He was silent, staring straight ahead, scrutinizing nothing in particular with a stare that was set in stone.

She whistled lowly, waving a hand in front of his face.

“Eggsyyy-“

“Lancelot, would you shut the hell up! Don’t fucking call me that!” He stood up, leaving a vulnerable feeling Y/n in his wake.

Y/n’s jaw was suddenly like it was wired shut. She was paralyzed, unable to speak, only keeping her gaze fixated on Galahad.

“Look, I’m sorry-“

“Yeah, well good, then! When will you ever learn, we’re not friends, nor will we ever be. Get it through you’re fuckin’ head. It’s like you think you’re Roxy or some shit-“

Sadness and guilt turned to anger rather quickly for Y/n at his unfortunate choice of words.

“Stop it! Would you please, just stop it! For fucks sake!” Her voice was harsh, something he never would had never expected out of Y/n. Tears sprung into her eyes, and her teeth sunk into her bottom lip, no doubt drawing crimson liquid in the process. She tasted iron on her tongue, feeling it seep into her taste buds.

“Lancelo-“

“Fucking hell, shut the fuck up! Really, please, Galahad, listen to me, for once in your life.” She was the one who shot up, inching closer to him with every word. The sticks and leaves crunched under her feet, causing her to cringe at the sound, hoping it didn’t alert the targets.

He nodded solemnly, his jaw locking up, and his hands she had been admiring only seconds before clamped into fists at his sides.

She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself, Harry’s words of “remember your training” ringing through her head. She internally began chanting it like a mantra of sorts.

But if she was being honest, she couldn't quite remember a chapter in the Kingsman handbook (that she most definitely did read during training) that talked about emotional distress due to your coworker who you’re extremely attracted to calling you only by your dead best friend's name, but hey, who knows.

“I know I'm not Roxy. Nobody else could ever be Roxy. I know that, you know that, hell, she knew that. And I would say that you have no idea how it feels to be reminded of one of your closest friends who is dead every time someone calls you by a name that feels as if it isn’t your own, but you do, Galahad. Or you did. But now Harry is back and- and Roxy, well Roxy is gone!”

A single tear slipped out of her left eye. The agent in front of her felt a strong urge wipe away the tears he now felt guilty for playing a large part in. But he resisted, his hands remaining stuck to his side.

“So why would you do this? Say these things, act this way, when you know I have to live every day with you for some reason calling me Lancelot in every situation and me having to call you Galahad all the same! Maybe I shouldn’t have stepped up to be Lancelot when Roxy was killed, if I can’t handle it, can’t handle the dehumanization that comes with only being known as an emotionless fuckin’ agent to you.”

She stopped, hanging her head. She looked over to the flickering neon lights of the pharmacy, watching the outlines of the targets move around.

“I honestly have no idea if any of that made sense, or if I’m just rambling, I don’t fucking have the slightest idea what the fuck I’m even doing anymore.” Her voice got significantly more quiet, her sentences reduced to mumbles.

Aside from the target and his partners yelling at each other, it was so silent you could hear a pin drop.

His usually stern tone he took with the girl was softer now as he spoke, “You made perfect sense.”

She gave him a half smile before continuing, feeling oddly validated by his words.

“But what I’m trying to say, Galahad, is that I’m a fucking human being. I have a life outside of this Godforsaken job, and-and emotions, too! I mean, I might even have kids that you don’t know about!”

He internally rolled his eyes, yet again fighting another urge, this time to smile widely at Y/n. Weird.

“Do you have kids I don’t know about-“

“Of course I don’t!”

They shared a short laugh as their words overlapped, harmonizing in a sweet way, their voices like thick and golden honey. Weird.

The two were then succumbed to a blanket of comfortable silence, but only for a short moment before the hushed whispers of Unwin’s voice were heard.

“D’you wanna know why?”

Y/n cocked her head, beckoning him to go on with whatever it was he was going to say. “Why what?”

“Why I only call you Lancelot, why I don’t let you call me Eggsy.”

She nodded, sitting down once more and tucking her leg under her chin in a manner that Eggsy found endearing and adorable. It distracted him slightly, but not long enough for his starry eyed staring to become creepy. Not that Y/n would have it in her capacity to ever think that of him, if she was being honest.

“If I start to think of you as ‘Y/n’, rather than Lancelot things get too real. If you hurt, o-or if you get kidnapped, or God forbid- die.” He momentarily paused, looking up to meet Y/n’s eyes.

“It would make it all too real. I can’t do that, Y/n. After what happened to Harry and then Roxy, and everyone else,” he shook his head, his expression showing him close to crying at the thought of what he was speaking of.

“I can’t lose you too.”

It was like her soul had become visibly lighter, feeling an unimaginable relief flood throughout her system at his proclamation. She was able to come down from her, so to say, “high” almost as soon as she had started it, placing her hands on his, using them as leverage to pull herself up.

“You can’t be so afraid, Galahad. You gotta, you know,” she shrugged, offering him a small smile.

“Live a little.” She moved to look down to meet his eyes where his head was suspended in shame, forcing him to look back up.

“And also, try not to let your fear turn you into a dick, which is by all means just a suggestion.” Y/n laughed at the last bit, smiling and glancing to the side slightly.

They both shared a second laugh together, and it seemed as if for a short while, time stopped. It was just the two of them, features illuminated by the pale moonlight. No target, no saving the world, nothing. Just them.

So he reached forward, unsure if what he was doing was the right thing, just like always. The damn question of righteousness was engrained in his brain, restricting him like it did majority of the time. But for once, he decided to disregard it in it’s entirety.

So throwing all caution to the wind, unable to contain himself any longer, he closed the small gap left between the two, connecting their lips in a long awaited kiss.

One of his hands flew to the side of her face, the other wrapping around her waist, pulling her closer with a squeal. He laughed into the union, and she only smiled. One of her hands went to entangle itself with his on her waist, the other resting on his shoulder.

She could smell his cologne that he most definitely should not have been wearing per Kingsman on the job regulations, and welcomed the scent, doing her best to commit it to memory, a permanent reminder of what it felt like to be so close to the man.

After what seemed like a long time (but never long enough, honestly) they pulled away, panting for breath. Their foreheads rested on each other’s, the cool night air flowing around them, calming the pair completely.

Still struggling to catch his breath, Eggsy reached forward, taking both of her hands. He ran small circles over her knuckles in a way that made her heart flutter, before dropping them gently, reaching a hand out.

“Let's start over.”

She giggled and widely grinned, and he swore it was becoming his favorite thing in existence when she would do either of those wondrous things.

“Come on, put her there.” He shook his hand slightly making a silly face as well, widening his eyes and looking back and forth from his hand and her face. She placed it in his, proudly smirking as she did so. Their shiny rings clanged, which resulted in another small giggle errupting from her throat.

He shook it back and forth, a sly smile painting itself on his lips.

“Pleasure to meet you, Eggsy Unwin.”

She quirked an eyebrow, retracting her hand momentarily, letting it linger in the air.

“Eggsy, hmm? Bit of an odd name, don’t you think?”

He scoffed, placing his hand over his heart in false offense.

“Well if it’s so bad, what’s yours then?”

“Y/n Y/l/n.”

He looked to his feet momentarily, lifting his hands on either side of his head. “I digress, you win.”

She bit her bottom lip again, wincing as she hit the same spot from before. She ran her tongue over it, breathing out quickly.

“I’m not so sure. I think Eggsy is growing on me.”

“Is that so?”

“Yeah.”

They smiled at each other like lovesick teenagers, still lost within the moment.

And although the bubble of ignorant bliss they were in was something the two of them never wanted to leave, it was sadly inevitable that it would be popped at some point in time.

And almost like an alarm to wake them up from a beautiful dream, gunfire was able to be heard ringing throughout the building across the way.

They pulled apart with a groan coming from Y/n, and a “For fucks sake” from Eggsy. With displeasure lacing their expressions, they began to run towards the pharmacy when Y/n felt a hand tug at her wrist.

“Y/n wait!”

Her eyes widened as she looked at him as if he was a mad man, only slowing to a backwards jog. She gestured around her to the burst of red and orange explosions that were now going off around her, screaming “What?!”

He sprinted to catch up with her forcing her to come to a complete stop with a firm hold on her shoulders.

“Eggsy, come on! Lets go- Ah!”

He cut her off with a firm kiss, gripping the sides of her head, scrunching his fingers in her hair. She let a small moan slip out at the feeling, which he responded to by chuckling. He then pulled away, a shit eating grin written on his face.

She stood in shock, unable to move from her place. He started running, turning over his shoulder.

“Come on, Y/n, keep up!”

Not focusing on where he was going, he tripped over himself, letting out a small yell of surprise. Y/n laughed loudly, going to chase after him with a miniscule shake of her head at his antics.

But nonetheless, the only thing going through Y/n’s mind during that situation that should have been horrifying, was that maybe she was wrong all this time.

Romance and espionage did go well together, especially when it was with Y/n and Eggsy.

♔♂♔

hello!!! so this was a multi-fandom account to begin with anyways so honestly i feel like i should start a seperate masterlist for “hj’s hyperfixations”. but yah this was my first fic for him and idk if i’ll do another but i hope u enjoyed this! also it’s my bday tomorrow (sept 7th) so this is a self indulgent fic. as a treat. ok love u bye!

xx hj

also avery asked me to tag her so @spideyspencer LMAO i’m so sorry for this mess.

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dreamingabouttaron · 3 years

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History Repeating - Part 2

Warning - Mentions of Unplanned Teenage Pregnancy.

Taron knocked on your bedroom door and waited. He impatiently knocked again, and again. When you didn’t answer he slowly opened the door; only to be surprised to see the room empty. He frowned to himself and closed the door back up before heading down the corridor to the family bathroom. As he enters he noticed a piece of paper tucked neatly underneath the stand alone sink. He huffed loudly to himself before bending over and picking it up. As he picked it up, the bright blue lettering caught his attention.

“Shit.” He whispered to himself before taking a closer look.

A bright smile appeared on his face when he suddenly realised what this meant. He quickly left the bathroom and hurried down the stairs to find his wife. Taron practically ran into the kitchen, scooped his wife up and kissed her face over and over, causing Lily to squeal loudly.

“What on earth has gotten into you?” Lily laughed when Taron finally placed her back on the ground.

Taron placed both his hands around Lily’s face, gently covering her ears. His eyes were beaming with love for her. Lily looked at him with a confused expression. Taron was just about to open his mouth when they both heard the front door open and close. Lily pulled herself away from Taron briefly as you entered the house after taking Nelly out for a short walk.

“Dinner in half an hour, Grace.” Your mum called out before you ran back up to the safety of your room.

Taron came back over to Lily and wrapped his arms around her waist. “When were you going to tell me?” His voice was low and flirty.

Lily felt her heart stop in her chest. “Tell you what?” She asked cautiously, not fully following her husband.

“That we’re going to have another baby.” He said gently, unable to contain his smile any longer.

Lily couldn’t stop the little gasp from escaping her mouth. “Tan? What do you mean?” She asked not wanted to give away too much with her stiff body language. Taron released himself away from Lily before showing her the Blue Clear instruction manual he had found on the floor. Lily’s eyes widened when she saw what was in his hand. She knew she couldn’t lie for you, the truth was going to have to come out at some point.

“Tan…” Lily started with a slight quiver in her voice. “That’s…not mine.”

Taron released a light chuckle before saying, “Well, who’s is it then?”

Lily looked up at him with large sympathetic eyes. It took him a moment for things to click. His face dropped from excitement to anger. His whole demeanour changed. He pulled himself away from Lily before practically running to the bottom of the stairs.

“Grace!” your father’s voice ripped up the stairs and through the empty hallways. “Get down here right now!” He sounded enraged. Your heart leaped in fear. You dropped everything you were doing and dragged yourself down the stairs to see your fathers face, his eyes were fierce.

“Take a seat.” Taron said pointing at the sofa, not exactly in a ‘if you want to’ voice but a ‘you better park your arse right here, or you else you’ll regret it’ voice. Slowly, you sat down. Your heart sank, you couldn’t even look him in the eyes. “Grace,” Taron began, trying to get your attention. “You’ve got two minutes to tell me what the hell is going on,” his voice was shaking.

“What are you talking about?” your eyebrows furrowed, you looked over at your mother who was stood in the corner of the room.

“Is this yours? Are you pregnant?” He asked as he uncurled his fist to better reveal the pregnancy test manual he was holding.

You clenched your jaw and let a heartbeat pass before slowly nodding, keeping your teary eyes down. You couldn’t look at him. You watched from your peripheral vision as he shook his head, “How...how could you let this happen?”

“Dad, I’m sorry- I...I didn’t want this to happen,” You said, trying to make things right even though you knew they were far from it.

Taron held his tightly fisted hand close to his lips, “you know...I questioned your mother first because-” he stopped himself mid-sentence and laughed unamused to himself. “Never in a million years did I think this could be yours.”

You wrung your hands in your lap, watching him nervously as tears fell from your eyes. For the first time since you’d come downstairs, he looked you in the eyes. They were sad. So sad and fatherly you couldn’t handle it. You both were frozen in silence, your sobs being the only sound in the room.

“Get out….” Taron snapped, finally breaking the ice in the room. He looked positively furious; his eyes were darker then you'd ever seen them and his face had darkened from red to an almost purple colour.

“What?” Lily shouted as she walked further into the room. “No…”

“Get out! I want her out! After everything I’ve done for you. This is how you repay me?” Taron shouted causing you only to cry louder and harder. You stood up feeling light headed and shaken. Leaning against the edge of the sofa for support, you somehow managed to find your way out of the room and half way up the stairs when you jumped at the sound of the front door being slammed. The sound made you collapse in a heap on the stairs. The tears burning your face, stinging every pore. You struggled to catch your breath as you started to panic.

Taron had to take himself off. He couldn’t believe the news he had just heard, but he also couldn’t believe the way he was acting. His emotions were rife. He didn’t know how to feel exactly. He was so incredibly protective of you and he felt like he hadn’t done his job. He didn’t protect you. You still had your whole life in front of you. The thought of his beautiful daughter getting up to such acts made his stomach turn. How could someone take advantage of her in such a way. In his head she was still his tiny little girl. And now, she was about to become a mother herself.

As Taron walked to cool off, he thought back to when he found out that Lily was pregnant and the joy and fear that he had felt. He could imagine how you felt. He remember how terrified he was to tell his mum. She had done everything to protect and look after him, he had never felt so ashamed in that moment telling her. Of course she was supportive and loved every moment of becoming a grandparent. Just like he would, some day, because you were everything that he had always wanted and never knew that he needed.

“Mum, there’s something Lily and I would like to tell you.” Taron starts and thickly swallows, Lily’s grip tightens around his hand. Taron looked at her for encouragement, even though he knew she was just as terrified.

“I-I…I’m…pregnant-” Lily stuttered.

Tina’s eye widened briefly, before blinking then narrowing a little, a smile showing the lack of belief. However, when there was no “Joking!” or “Got ya!” to follow the bold statement, her smile dissolved, horror showing plain as day.

“What do you mean you’re pregnant?” Guy asked nervously as Tina sat back against the sofa and staring off into space for a few moments taking in then news that had just been announced.

Taron’s heart began to race, he started to breathe rapidly, panicking of what was yet to come. He had a feeling his mum was going to explode at him. She had always taught him to use protection. She had raised him all by herself when Taron’s parents broke up. Taron knew the struggles she went through to give him the opportunities he had.

Guy looks up at his stepson, rubbing his hands together. “Are you sure?”

“Yes. We went to doctors the other day who confirmed it.” Lily butted in, trying to take some strain off Taron.

Letting out a heavy sigh, Tina ran her hand through her hair before standing up. She walked over to Lily and tells her to stand up. Lily anxiously rises to her feet. Taron watches with wide eyes, unsure of what his mother was going to do and say. The tension was released with Tina pulled Lily into a warm hug. Taron pushed himself up and pulled his mother into a hug moments after.

“You’re not mad?” He asked in a low voice.

“No. I’m just disappointed, because you have your whole life ahead of you, but I’m your mother and I’ve always promised to support you in any way I can.” She says as tears start to cradle in her eyes.

When Taron finally arrived back at the house, he takes a moment to compose himself before entering. The downstairs was empty, dinner still half made in the kitchen. Taron quietly walks up the stairs, taking each step in slowly. He hears the slight mutterings coming from inside your bedroom.

As he approaches your bedroom, he stands silently in the doorway, taking in the scene before him. After a moment or two he walks over to take your hand, squeezing it gently to make sure you knew he were there. Meeting your father’s eyes, your heart shattered, knowing how much you’d failed him. Especially after he had worked so hard to give you the life that you deserved.

“How many tests did you take?” Your father said in an almost whisper.

You dried your tears softly. Your quivering hand reached down to open a drawer next to your bed, pulling out the tests you’d kept hidden away. Taron couldn’t look down, keeping his scared eyes on yours or Lily’s the whole time.

“I’m scared dad, and I need you and mum around me right now. I just don’t want to let you down,” you confess.

His eyes fell on the tests widening, not expecting there to be so many. Instinctively, he gasped, horrified. He always thought you would be careful and take precautions, especially at such a vulnerable age, but when he saw the tears continue to fall, he knew he needed to be there. He needed to be a father. It was his job. Especially after the way he had just reacted.

“You know that you could never let me down, and nothing will change that.” he comforted, kneeling in front of you, resting his hands on your legs. Just like he had done when Lily found out she was pregnant with you. “I think we all need to have a bit of a talk though; don’t you think?”

You nodded slowly, slightly taken aback by the comforting approach your father now took. Inside, he was raging, but his anger wasn’t the solution to this situation. He knew his previous behaviour had been out of order but unfortunately he could take it back. “I’m sorry dad.” You blurted out.

“Don’t say that,” he requested shaking his head, “you don’t have anything to be sorry for.”

Your mum smiled softly, turning to face you. She nodded lightly, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head. “Just because you’re pregnant, doesn’t change the fact we still love you endlessly.”

“You’re not mad at me?” You whimpered, looking between the two of your parents. Of course, there was an element of worry, you were still learning and growing, leaning on the two of them. But they couldn’t tell you that, neither of them wanted to make things worse for you. You were fragile, scared, not just as you thought to the future, but the worried expression evidently on show on Taron’s face.

“I think we’re both just a little bit surprised sweetheart, but maybe this could be the making of you, just because you’re a young mum doesn’t mean you can’t be the best mum in the world. Your dad and I managed, but we were slightly older.”

“I don’t think I can do this by myself, will the two of you be with me through it all?” You asked, looking at you both through tear-stained eyes.

Despite how shocked he was, there was no way Taron could ever abandon his only child, and now, his grandchild. “Listen to me closely, your mum and I are going to be with you every step of the way, whenever you need something, we’ll be there for you. It’s going to be hard, and at times you’ll probably just want to give up, but we’re a family, and we’ll get through this together. Even when you’re throwing up in the early hours of the morning or staying awake because the baby is wriggling.”

“Your dad used to stay up with me, massaging my tummy trying to stop you wriggling around.” Your mums comment made your dad blush. “D-do you have any idea who the father of your baby is?” Your mum asked changing the mood back to a more serious tone.

“Y-yeah,” You stuttered, your eyes flickering to Taron. Straight away he knew there was more to things, but right now, he didn’t want to push it, simply offering you a warming smile. You didn’t want to provoke him any further. That was a conversation for another day, but father or not, Taron would step up whenever he needed, the early mornings and late nights, he’d never leave you to suffer alone.

“We’re going to be the greatest team, you don’t have to face any of this alone, not if you don’t want to, we’ll always be here to support you,” Taron assured you as he kissed the back of your hand.

“Thank you for both being so incredible about all of this, you really are the greatest parents in the world.”

“It might not be ideal, but we’re family, and we stick together no matter what. We’ll make this work, just like we always do,” Your mother whispered.

After a moment, Taron stood up and encompassed you in a crushing hug. “You’re my baby girl, and I love you so much.” your father spoke softly, his voice breaking. You felt a tear fall onto your shoulder, causing you to cry harder. “It’s hard to watch you grow up. It’s hard to see you start a family of your own. When I look at you, I still see my little girl,” he pulled you even closer, crying harder into your shoulder.

A/N - Any feedback would be appreciated! Thank you for all the support so far!

Tag list - @writingformany

If anyone would like to be added to a tag list please let me know!

#taron egerton #taron egerton fanfiction #i love taron #taron egerton imagine #taron x reader #taron egerton fanfic #taron egerton angst #angst #fanfiction angst #fanfiction #16 and pregnant #dad!taron #taron!dad

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rocketmanmadden · 3 years

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Angst requests or ideas anyone?

Anyone have any angsty prompt ideas or requests for Richard Madden or Taron Egerton? Or even Ben Hardy! If so please send through! Thank you! Doesn’t matter how bad they are, the more angst the better;)

#richard madden #richard madden fanfic #richard madden fanfiction #richard madden fic #richard madden imagine #richard madden x reader #taron egerton imagine #taron egerton fanfiction #taron egerton #tarom egerton fanfic #taron egerton fic #ben hardy #ben hardy fanfiction #ben hardy fic #ben hardy imagine #ben hardy angst #taron egerton angst #richard madden angst

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sunonyoreface · 2 years

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Routine Examinations Pt5 - Jimmy Keene - Black Bird Imagine

Summary: You’re a doctor working with the FBI, your new patient: Jimmy Keene.

Word count: 5746 (its a long one!)

Pairing: Reader x Jimmy Keene

TW: angst, prison environment, mention of insulin injection, assault, SA, use of knife, panic attack, blood.

The guard hasn’t even reached the door when his radio starts going off in a frenzied panic. He’s not Nelson nor is he Carter. I don’t ask his name because he’s definitely introduced himself before, but I can’t remember it for the life of me.

“Ma’am is it okay if I step out for a moment, something’s going on at the guard station,” there’s an uneasiness to his voice as he stares down at the radio attached to his belt. Multiple voices yell out code numbers to each other and despite having worked here long enough that I should know at least some of them, I don’t.

“Of course,” I smile politely. It saves me the awkwardness of asking him to leave. The officer doesn’t shut the door tight on his way out but it’s closed enough that I don’t bother to fix it. I’m already sitting in front of Jimmy anyway.

“That’s a little strange don’t you think?” He’s on edge. How could he not be after yesterday’s beating and Carter threatening to flag him as a snitch.

“Every day is a strange day in here,” I reassure him. The cuts on Jimmy’s face already look better. The night at the infirmary did him well. The bags under his eyes have shrunk and he looks more awake. Don’t get me wrong, he still looks like hell, but at least more rested.

“I guess,” he mumbles.

“Let me see your neck. After yesterday my main concern is making sure the wound doesn’t reopen,” Jimmy shuffles closer to the edge of the chair so I can get a better look at the scar. His knee rests between my legs as I sit on my rolling stool. As I lean in to get a closer look, his leg accidentally presses against my inner thigh. I try not to think of it as I check the butterfly bandages. Then, I lightly dab a salve onto the area to ensure it doesn’t dry out.

When I pull away, I notice Jimmy isn’t looking at me. Instead, his gaze is cast downwards at our intertwined legs. I allow myself half a second to indulge in the same view, but then the movement of his head draws my eyes upwards. He finally meets my gaze. It’s heavy and when he presses his knee harder against my thigh, I know that there was no accident. His touch has been intentional from the start.

But neither of us gets the chance to say anything. Jimmy’s head darts up when someone sprints past the door, their heavy steps thundering down the hall.

“Was that a C.O?” he asks. I turn to the door, having missed them fly by.

“I don’t know,” something starts to buzz in the back of my mind. It’s been almost ten minutes and the officer in charge of Jimmy still hasn’t come back. I break our contact to peek around the cracked door. The guard normally posted at the front of the infirmary is gone. Jimmy was right.

“Was it?”

“Yeah,” my mind wanders to the different possibilities. It must be urgent because he is never supposed to leave his post without a replacement. Now four inmates are left unguarded out there. Although they’re heavily injured and cuffed to their beds, so they won’t be going anywhere.

I twist the lock on the door handle and head for the landline. Jimmy watches as I call both guard stations and neither pick up. My lips purse in frustration.

Nevertheless, I head over to Jimmy again.

“You haven’t shared much about Hall these last few days,” I start.

He ignores my prompt. “Something’s wrong, Emma,” Jimmy’s voice is tight. “I think you should hide somewhere, in the supply cabinet, under your desk. Somewhere.”

“Jimmy, do you know something?” I ask.

“Why would both guards leave?” he emphasizes. “Something isn’t right.”

“It’ll be fine,” I say, but just as the words leave my mouth a new pair of footsteps run down the corridor to the infirmary. They’re different from the guard’s: lighter, quicker. Two excited, muffled voices carry through the brick walls.

Then, there’s a knock at my door. It’s polite and innocent enough. But, it’s not how a guard knocks. No gruff voice follows, announcing they need to take an inmate back to their cell. Instead, a heavy silence takes over the room. Each side of the door patiently awaits a sign of life from the other side.

“Get under your desk,” Jimmy whispers. The urgency in his voice is clearer than ever.

I take his warning one step further by first sliding off my heels and then pulling a scalpel from my supply tray before finally crawling under my desk. I pull my office chair as close as possible to provide extra shelter. I’m covered from Jimmy’s perspective, but anyone who crouches down or walks behind the desk will see me plain as day.

There’s another knock, louder this time.

“Doctor, there’s an emergency! We need medical assistance as fast as possible at the guard station!” My stomach drops at the giddy, shrill voice.

“Don’t respond,” Jimmy’s voice is barely audible. But I didn’t need him to tell me that much.

The doorknob starts wiggling. A pit forms in my stomach as the quiet sounds of metal clinking on metal fill the room.

And then the lock pops and the door swings open. Two inmates stand in the frame. One of them, Moe, whom I treated two days ago for multiple stab wounds to his shoulder, was set to be released this afternoon. He stands short and stocky next to the lanky man beside him, Ralf, if I’m remembering his name properly.

Ralf holds himself as though he isn’t 100% human. He’s gaunt and almost looks like one of those praying mantis insects with their long limbs and beady eyes.

“Oh,” Moe mutters. “Why didn’t you say you were here?”

The question is directed at Jimmy as the stocky man pushes his way into the room. Ralf follows a few steps behind, but he doesn’t take much interest in Jimmy. No, Ralf is more interested in my medical supplies, specifically whatever might hide in my cabinets. He heads straight for the fridge by the door, but is going to be disappointed to find blood and stool samples.

“Thought you guys might be guards,” Jimmy deepens his voice, playing up the tough guy reputation he seems to have built for himself.

Ralf giggles to himself at Jimmy’s comment. “Nope, no guards around here anymore.”

“By yourself?” Moe mumbles.

“No,” Jimmy hesitates. “The doctor was here, but she went out almost at the same time as the guard. Something about disinfectant.”

‘Ohh,” Moe pauses for a moment, thinking about Jimmy’s answer. His feet scuff on the floor as he moves around the patient chair.

Ralf slams the fridge door shut, rattling the containers inside. He moves to the first of two cabinets. Inside are cotton sways, bandages, wraps, syringes, ointments, and disinfectant, but no pills, which I’m guessing is what he really wants. What little medication I keep on hand is securely in the cabinet behind my desk. In direct view of where I sit now.

“Ya know,” Ralf sniffs. “We didn’t see no doctor on our way over. Did we Moe?”

“Just a couple of guards,” Moe’s muffled voice bounces off the walls and rings in my ears. I feel my heart racing in my chest as if it’s going to take off and leave me dead on the floor.

“You said she needed disinfectant?” Ralf asks.

“She said it,” Jimmy’s tone is short. “Not me.”

“Funny,” his voice trails off. Ralf reaches into the open cabinet and pulls out a handful of disinfectant wipes. He drops them on the floor. “Looks like she’s got plenty of those,” he grabs another handful, tossing them onto the ground. Then another. The tiny packets skid across the floor. One slides under the desk right next to my foot.

“You calling me a liar?” the tension rises in Jimmy’s voice

“Ain’t calling you anything buddy,” says Ralf.

Moe leans in close to Jimmy, real close. Too much for someone he just met. Probably too close for someone he’s known for a while. The proximity makes Jimmy visibly uncomfortable as he leans away. “Do we have a problem? Why don’t you back up a bit?”

“Want your cuffs off?” Moe asks, once again mumbling.

“I don’t know man, what’s in it for you?”

“Just one thing,” Moe pauses, his voice clear for the first time since stepping into my office. “Where’d she go?”

“I just told you.”

“No, you didn’t,” says Moe.

“I can take another peek, but I’m pretty sure she ain’t laying beside those pigs out there,” Ralf chimes in. I can see the bottom of his shoes as he walks away from the cabinet. He carelessly steps on the disinfectant packets. The pit in my stomach grows. Does that mean they’re dead?

“So, where’d she go?” Moe is getting impatient now. His voice is higher, tighter, I can hear the annoyance from across the room.

Ralf has nowhere else to check except for the last cabinet. I hug my legs closer to my chest as he approaches the doors. My fingers nervously twist the scalpel. The weapon is of little reassurance to my situation. If Ralf turns around now, I’m dead.

He pulls on the door and it swings open with ease. I forgot to lock it. I should be embarrassed I forgot to do something so important, but right now that's the only thing keeping his attention away from my desk.

“Bingo!” Ralf sings. He fills his pockets with pill bottles, carrying enough painkillers to take out a whole block.

“Is she still here?” Moe whispers to Keene.

Jimmy doesn’t respond, but that seems to be all the confirmation he needs.

“Ralf.”

“Just wait,” his pockets are bulging with bottles as he reaches for more.

“Where?” he asks Jimmy again, his voice low and eager.

Ralf turns to snap at him. That he just needs to wait another minute and they’ll check the supply room down the hall. But the words never leave his mouth, because when Ralf turns around to look at Moe, his eyes land directly on mine instead. And if I thought the grin on his face couldn’t get any larger, I was wrong.

“Guess,” he giggles.

Moe’s eyes widen as his laughter also begins to fill the room. My mouth runs dry and my heart feels like it stops beating completely. In the background, I hear what might be Jimmy’s handcuffs rattling against the metal bar. Moe rounds the corner of the desk to see if Ralf is telling the truth.

Ralf reaches for the arm of the chair to pull it away.

I don’t wait for them to yank me out screaming. I lunge at Ralf, scalpel ready, and plunge it into the hand wrapped around the chair. The blade cuts through his hand and into the foam underneath, but I don’t stay to see his reaction. In seconds I am sprinting for the door until I step on a pile of disinfectant packages. My foot loses traction as I slide and get knocked off balance. It doesn’t stop me, but provides just enough time for Moe to wrap his arms entirely around my body and yank me back towards my desk. I thrash against his snake-like grip but that only causes him to constrict his arms even tighter.

“Let go!” I scream at him. My voice cracks in desperation. I take a swing and land it square on Moe’s head but he acts as though I completely missed.

“You fucking bitch,” Ralf seethes as he approaches with the bloody knife in hand. Thick, red liquid flows from his hand, down his elbow where it drips onto the floor.

“Stop!” Jimmy shouts as he strains against his cuffs locked around the metal rail. He leaps from the chair and puts all the pressure he can on them in an attempt to break them.

Moe flips me around and pushes me onto my desk. Papers chaotically fly everywhere as he swipes them off the surface.

“Get off!” I spit at him. The sharp edge of the desk jolts into my back as he bends me over the top, leaving my stomach exposed.

“You’re going to fucking regret that you little bitch,” Ralf’s venomous words are filled with spite. His eyes bulge from his head as he leans in. I freeze in fear, too terrified to move. Meanwhile, Moe suggestively presses his groin into me as his heavy breathing turns to deep chuckles.

In the background, I hear Jimmy heaving against the chains. The large chair is anchored to the ground like the ones you’d see in a dentist’s office, but that doesn’t stop him from fighting it. The metal groans against Jimmy’s strength and all I can do is pray it’s enough.

“It’s been so long since the last time,” says Moe. Bile rises in the back of my throat at his words. A cold blade presses against my lower stomach. Ralf traces the knife along the hem of my blouse before he lands at the bottom button. Moe watches him carefully. “Do it,” he breathes.

“Is that what you want, doctor?” Ralf teases.

“Fuck you.”

“You will,” his shit-eating grin grows as he cuts off the first button. Then the next. And the next. Tears well in my eyes as more buttons follow and my top slowly falls away, leaving me exposed. In the background, I can faintly hear the groan of metal under too much stress. “There we go,” he says as the last button falls to the ground.

“Oh, boy Ralf,” Moe’s grimy hands wander up my stomach. “You always have good ideas.”

“Don’t you know it,” he drawls. “But I don’t think we’re done yet,” Ralf raises the scalpel again, this time pressing it to the skin just under my collar bone.

“Please don’t,” my voice cracks as he presses the blade harder into my skin. Blood spills down my chest as he cuts a long gash.

“Not such a bitch anymore,” Ralf smirks. Moe spreads blood around my chest as his hands grab at my skin.

“Please,” it’s barely audible as tears stream down my face. But then a sound off to the side of the room catches my attention. Something metal snaps in the direction of the patient’s chair.

Out of nowhere, Jimmy comes hurdling across the room. He throws fast, deadly punches at Ralf, causing blood to fly from his face as his nose snaps and his lip splits. He goes down fast as Jimmy relentlessly beats on him. Ralf wheezes as he takes hit after hit with no time to recover.

At the same time, I feel Moe’s hands tighten around me in panic. He doesn’t know what to do. But then in another split second, he is off of me and out the door in a panic. Moe leaves Ralf behind without a second thought.

“Jimmy,” my shaky voice does nothing to shake him from his violent trance. “Jimmy!” I shout.

He whips around. His face is red from exertion and there’s something different about his eyes. He straddles Ralf, who lies on the ground barely conscious. Blood covers the surrounding floor.

“Get him out of here,” I turn around to look out the window. I don’t want to see what Jimmy does with him but I can hear his body being drug across the floor. I feel awful. Ashamed. Exposed. Terrified. And I can’t stop the shakes from taking over. Fuck.

I jump as the door slams shut. Jimmy pushes the industrial metal fridge to block the entrance.

With the fridge securely pressed against the door, it’s almost impossible for anyone to get in. We’re trapped here for better or worse.

He rushes across the room to my side.

“Emma are you-” Jimmy reaches out, his arm beginning to wrap around my shoulder in an embrace.

“Don’t!” I shout louder than I meant to. I instinctively flinch away from him and even once I put a meter’s worth of space between us, it’s not enough.

“I’m sorry,” regret is evident in his soft voice. He didn’t mean to and I know that but I can’t help my reaction.

“It’s fine,” but I don’t feel fine. Nothing about me is remotely fine. My skin feels like thousands of fire ants have claimed it as theirs. I can’t get the feeling of the inmate’s forceful hands off my mind. Can’t clear my head of the unspeakable things that he planned to do. That he came so close to accomplishing.

My chest feels tight and my heart aches. It’s like the air I’m breathing isn’t making it to my lungs. My mouth feels dry. The type of dry that only happens when you’ve been working outside in the mid-August heat for hours with no water. The room feels ten degrees warmer than it was five minutes ago yet I’m shaking like it’s the middle of winter. I’m quick to jump to the conclusion that I’m having a heart attack but experience tells me otherwise.

My vision starts to go spotty as I head for the corner of the room. I just need to sit for a few moments. To clear my head. To breathe.

“Jimmy?” I’m almost gasping for air.

“Are you alright?” he asks with furrowed brows. “You’re really pale,” he steps closer but is overly cautious about invading my space.

“Can you get me some water?”

If he responds I don’t hear him. My vision is spotty, leaning on the darker side. I’m panicking and need to regain control before I cause myself to faint. My anxiety normally doesn’t get this bad but today hasn’t exactly been normal.

In the background, I hear the tap running. I press my head against the cool brick wall as I sit on the laminate floor with my arms resting on my knees.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Fine,” I mumble. “It’s just a panic attack,”

“Just,” he huffs in disbelief.

Jimmy watches me with worry etched on his face. I don’t want him to know how awful it feels. “I’ll be fine. Always am.”

“Do you need anything else?” He asks.

“Just some quiet.”

He takes a seat several feet away from me against the wall, copying my position. I slowly sip my water, paying attention to the feeling of it coasting down my throat. To the soft sound of the fan blowing in the corner of my office, sitting untouched by the intruders. I ignore the muffled crashing sounds that can faintly be heard through the brick walls, instead focusing on the warm light that shines through the windows casting itself on our legs. I listen to his breathing. It’s deep and strong and faster than normal. We’re both still recovering from what happened. But he’s otherwise completely quiet; respecting my wishes without any complaints. I have his immediate support.

Slowly my vision completely returns and the shakes seem to dissipate. The room doesn’t feel so hot anymore.

When I look over at Jimmy, he’s quick to meet my eyes. He was waiting for something, a signal of some sort to know I’m alright.

“More water?” he whispers.

“Please,” I hold out the paper cup. His index finger brushes against my pinky when he takes it from my hand. I could’ve gotten up and filled the cup myself, but he looks relieved to have a job.

When Jimmy hands me back the cup I notice the cuts on his wrist from the handcuffs. He strained so hard against the metal to break free that it scraped his skin raw. I can’t imagine how bad it stings right now.

The water is cool down the back of my throat. Jimmy doesn’t sit back down. He stands as he watches me finish the second cup.

“Better?”

“Yeah.”

“You should let me fix that up,” he motions to my collarbone. It had been the least of my concerns up until now. I didn’t even notice the thick trail of blood seeping from the gash. Now it throbs. The red heat seems to spread from the wound down my chest as the blood soaks my once nude bra and slashed blouse. My mind was too clouded before to notice how exposed they left me. A wave of vulnerability washes over me.

I divert my eyes and pull the other half of my top over my chest to cover my bra. “It’ll be fine.”

Jimmy catches on to my body language right away. “Here, I’ll give you my shirt, but you’re bleeding a lot. We should do something about that.”

He’s not even done talking when he slips the blue shirt off and passes it to me. The rough fabric’s warm in my hands.

“Thanks,” I say as he stands across from me now in his undershirt. The bruises from yesterday paint his arms and upper chest a variety of painful colours.

He’s right. I am bleeding a lot. And I don’t know how much longer we’re going to be here and how much more blood I’m going to lose. But Jimmy doesn’t need to be the one to patch me up, I can do that all on my own.

“Where do you keep those butterfly things?” he’s already searching around the room.

“The bandages?”

“Those.”

“They’re in the far cabinet,” I say as he moves to rummage through my supplies. I replace my torn blouse with the standard blue prison shirt. The bottom hem falls well below my waist and the already large neckline barely stays on my shoulders. It’s still miles better than what I had before. The fabric smells of the prison’s standard detergent, but it also smells distinctly of him: clean and masculine and of something earthier I can’t quite depict. It’s a comforting scent that now completely engulfs me.

“Here,” he speaks to himself as he pulls out a sealed bag of bandages and disinfecting wipes. When Jimmy turns around, he does a quick once over of the shirt, his expression almost completely neutral but I don’t miss how his shoulders shift as he deeply inhales.

He crouches down in front of me on the laminate, placing the packets just to the right. I tense at our proximity and it doesn’t go unnoticed.

“Jimmy,” I wait for him to look up. “I don’t need help. I’ll fix it myself.”

His brows furrow and he looks to the floor in search of an answer. The moment stretches on becoming borderline uncomfortable. He considers his words carefully. “I would never hurt you Emma,” Jimmy murmurs.

“It’s not that, it’s just…” I trail off at a loss for words. Because it is that. I know it’s an unreasonable fear because he’s done nothing but help to protect me. But at the same time, is it such an unreasonable fear after everything that has happened today? I’m scared of where it could go if I let him get that close. Of where I would want it to go.

“You’ve done so much for me already, I just want to return the favour,” earnest eyes are back on mine.

“You’re not in some kind of debt to me, Jimmy.”

“Please just let me help you. That’s all I want,” I search his blue eyes for any trace of deceit, but there’s none, only concern.

“Okay,” I nod.

We both let out a sigh of relief. The tension between us easing, just a bit.

He shifts to sit back on the floor, positioning himself so he has easy access to my chest.

“Will you hold these?” Jimmy asks as he passes me the disinfectant and bandages. I cup them in my palms on my lap so he can grab them any time. He clears his throat before asking “Emma can I move your shirt?”

“That’s fine,” I nod in response. He’s slow with his movements as if I’m an easily spooked horse. Jimmy’s large hand reaches up to the neckline of my shirt and gently pushes it off my shoulder. It falls effortlessly, already too big for me. The air feels cold on my exposed skin. I can’t control my heart rate from picking up again.

I study him closely. He sits with his legs crossed in a position that makes his posture look bad. With him closer, I get a better look at the injury on his neck. It’s healing, but the fight today probably tore at the bandages. The kind of strain it took to break the metal bar would’ve been immensely painful for him. Yet, his neck wound didn’t reopen which is a good sign.

The cuts on his cheek haven’t opened either but his lip isn’t so lucky. A small smear of blood tells me it was bleeding not too long ago but has probably stopped by now.

The bruises on his face are deep blues and purples and while his black eye isn’t nearly as swollen as yesterday, it could use some ice. It hurts just to look at him.

The veins in his forearm ripple as Jimmy reaches for the disinfectant in my hands. He rips open the packet to reveal the tiny white cloth. He uses the first cloth to wipe the fresh blood off his knuckles before grabbing a second packet.

His movements are hesitant. He knows what to do. It’s fresh in his mind after watching me yesterday. But Jimmy lacks experience in dressing wounds. He doesn’t know how to properly clean a cut or apply the butterfly bandages. His eyes shift between the gash along my collarbone and the cloth in his hands. His Adam’s apple bobs when he swallows. Jimmy’s unsure, but that doesn’t stop him from wanting to help.

His strong hands are surprisingly delicate as he uses the disinfectant wipe to clean the area around the wound. His eyes are constantly flickering up to mine, ensuring he hasn’t hurt me.

I draw in a sharp breath when the alcohol touches the cut.

He pauses immediately. “You good?”

“Yup,” I muster through a clenched jaw.

Jimmy pulls on his bottom lip with his teeth in concentration. When he finally releases, blood rushes to the area turning it a dark pink.

I’m still staring at his lips when he asks how to apply the bandage. When I finally meet his eyes something in them darkens. The air is still and I can feel when he suddenly inhales deeper than before.

“Place one side of the bandage down before you pinch both sides of the cut together and apply the other half,” My voice is hoarse, quiet.

He reluctantly presses the first half of a bandage onto the skin just under the cut before leaning in real close to study the area. His cool breath fans across my bare shoulder and down my chest. Jimmy’s brows furrow in concentration. His eyes so focused, that they don’t notice anything but the soft skin under his calloused hands. Something in my stomach flutters as his gentle fingers pinch the wound together and press the other half of the bandage into place.

We’re both completely silent as he applies the second and third bandages.

“I think we’re done,” his voice is hardly above a whisper. Jimmy traces his thumb along my collarbone just above the wound, causing the small hairs on my arms to rise. His touch is light and careful. I watch his eyes follow along my bare skin until I’m staring into pools of blue. I involuntarily draw in a breath. My mind is humming and my body has awakened. The world is unmoving except for my heart hammering in my chest.

“Thank you,” I find myself at a loss for words. His fingers continue to lightly trace back and forth along the tender area.

“You don’t have to thank me. I owe you.”

“Not after today, you don’t.”

“I’ll always owe you, Emma, I’ll never be out of your debt for your kindness,” his eyes search mine. There’s a sense of urgency to his words. A desire to be understood.

“It’s just my job, Jimmy.”

“It’s more than that,” he’s right. From the moment he stepped through those doors it felt like more. As much as I’ve tried to remain professional our relationship has grown past that.

“Do you, uhm, want ice? For your eye?” I stumble over my words. “Or your wrist?”

“They’ll be fine,”

“Because there probably some still in the fridge, I doubt it’s melted yet,” he’s so close; my thoughts are getting twisted with his earthy scent.

“I don’t want ice, Emma,” he’s closer than ever before. I can feel the heat off his skin as his chest brushes against my own. Our breaths intertwine as the space shrinks and the tension grows thick. His hand brushes up the base of my neck, leading a trail of pleasure up to my jaw where he gently cups my face.

“So, what do you want?” I murmur, my eyes on his provocative lips.

“I think you know,” his voice is low. Every sensation feels heightened. All I want is to feel his skin on mine. “But only if you do too,” he searches for any sign saying otherwise.

“More than I should,” I lean in, brushing my nose against his. I long for a deeper connection with him, to know him entirely.

Jimmy dampens his lips. His eyes are darkened by desire. I graze my hand up his hard arm, over his broad shoulder, past the bruises and around the back of his neck. I don’t know who leans in first. It all happens so fast. Adrenaline floods my veins. His hands feel so good as they travel across my body, landing in my hair. His fingers lace through the strands as he gently pulls at the base of my roots.

He’s passionate and intense but takes his tantalizing time exploring my mouth. Jimmy traces my lips with his tongue before slipping it in. He pushes as I pull. Then we switch in harmony, the playing field completely even.

Jimmy presses his body into mine. The softness of my figure moulds against his sturdy frame. I feel so tiny in his arms. They’re solid and safe and I know if anyone were to break through that door, they would do anything to protect me. Jimmy wraps around me like a suit of impenetrable armour.

The world disappears as the lines between who is who blur. There’s something visceral about our desire, something so desperate and innate.

All I want is to disappear into him completely, but then he pauses.

There’s a vulnerability in his eyes as he pulls away. I know how awful a place like this can be. How isolating and dehumanizing. How lonely and deprived. Jimmy looks tired. He looks beat and drained. The job he’s tasked with is almost impossible.

My fingers trace along the bags under his eyes, up his cheekbones, and down his ear. A deep sigh escapes his swollen lips.

Jimmy parts his lips as if to say something, then changes his mind. He presses his forehead against mine with closed eyes. It feels so good to be this close to him. To feel his hands as they rub the side of my thighs for comfort. But I can tell in this state of vulnerability, that his mind has drifted elsewhere.

“I don’t know if I can do it,” he whispers as his head moves to the crook of my neck.

“Don’t think like that, Jimmy,” I bring a hand to the back of his head, lightly petting his soft hair. “If anyone can, it’s you,” His heart pounds against his chest. I can feel the thrumming as my palm presses against his grey shirt. He doesn’t realize how strong he is.

“You don’t know that,”

“I do.”

He breaks away from our embrace in search of the truth. Am I just telling him what he wants to hear or is there any substance to my words. His eyes carefully examine my face. There’s not a single lie or half-truth to my words. I believe them fully.

I grab his large hand in both of mine. “I do.”

His shoulders soften when he sighs, nodding his head in acceptance. My words are enough, for now.

On the other side of the brick wall, a storm of footsteps approaches the infirmary. A loud knock thunders against the door.

“Dr. Green! Are you in there?” A commanding voice shouts through the door.

Every part of my body freezes. Jimmy’s eyes widen slightly. I can’t bring myself to respond to the man on the other side of the wall.

“Doctor, we will break this door down if we do not receive a response,” I hear the muffled voices of more men. I wonder how many there are?

I allow myself one last moment of uninterrupted silence with Jimmy. My palm cups his cheek, thumb lightly brushing across the day-old scar. His hand wraps entirely around my wrist. Jimmy guides my hand from his cheek to his lips, his eyes never leaving mine.

He presses one last tender kiss where my wrist connects to my palm. “I’ll see you tomorrow?” His soft words vibrate against my sensitive skin as his breath fans down my arm.

I try to smile. To hide the disappointment I’m feeling. Not because of him or his actions, but because of our situation. If only things had been different. If only we met somewhere else. Somewhere innocent. When I look at Jimmy his eyes are sad. They’re longing for something more.

“Tomorrow,” I repeat.

I break contact. This is too much. It’s all too much right now. The only thing I can do is clear my voice and call back to the officers.

“I’m alright! I’ll unblock the door, just give me two minutes,” I don’t have a chance to attempt moving the fridge. Jimmy’s already on it. When it’s mostly out of the way he rushes for the chair, slipping his cuff back around the broken metal rail and adjusting it so the officers won’t notice it’s broken.

I’m about to let them in, my hand rests on the flimsy handle lock ready to flick it open. I steal one last glance at him.

Jimmy eyes crinkle as he smiles at me. He winks as if everything’s alright. And for a moment, everything is.

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