#*crawling out bloody and beaten* i did it

[dreadfuldevotee]

Bang the Doldrums, Fall out Boy/ The Doctor x Yasmin Khan, Doctor Who

"This is a love song in my own way"

#doctor who #thasmin #thirtheenth doctor #13th doctor #yaz khan #yasmin khan #jodie whittaker #mandip gill #fall out boy #fobedit #dwedit #doctorwhoedit #chibnalledit #chibnalldaily #web weaving #char.gif #*crawling out bloody and beaten* i did it #this took longer than id like to admit i used to be good at this LOL #does this count as a web weaving if its exactly 3 peices 2 of which are the same media #whatever who cares #suffer my bad handwriting

[undiscovered-horizon]

(tw for self-harm -> literally hitting a tree with a bare fist)

[Tav has to carry the world on their shoulders. But when they begin to question this responsibility and the unfairness of it, they need someone to make sure their grief doesn't destroy them.]

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Astarion knows that something is very off when you drop your bag and disappear behind the tree line, never even acknowledging his existence. The certain skip in your step, a bravado of "There's no mountain I can't move" is completely gone, nowhere to be seen. Now, something more sinister has taken its place - a darkness looming over your shoulder that makes even him shudder. Like you've switched places with another creature.

He notices Shadowheart and Gale watching your departure, both of them fidgeting in their stillness. Their hesitancy is all too obvious. Then, they exchange a look of both concern and inquiry. In awkward silence, Gale and Shadowheart part ways, simultaneously deciding to let you have your space.

Be it his curiosity or worry for you that he so vehemently denies, Astarion marches off in the direction he has seen you go, only to disappear behind the trees. He passes by Gale, who grabs Astarion's arm. The bruises on the wizard's face look almost black in the twilight of the campsite.

"I wouldn't do that, Tav is a little..." he hangs his voice as his eyes glance towards the dense forest, "beside themself."

The vampire wears his scowl like a crown. He yanks his arm from Gale's grasp and makes a show of straightening the fabric of his decorative shirt. "Wonderful advice. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to happily ignore it."

Without awaiting a rebuttal, Astarion continues his march towards the dense, dark forest where he hopes to find you.

The warm, yellow hue of the campfire quickly disappears as the man ventures into the woods. Low shrubbery keeps nipping at his clothes, almost making him more worried about the state of his pants than your well-being. He is about to call out your name when he hears a loud, muffled thud.

What in Hells is that?

Following the sound, Astarion finally finds you - beaten, bruised. Your clothes look like you haven't washed them since crawling out of the Nautiloid. The blood covering your knuckles glistens in the moonlight as you take another swing at the tree trunk. Another thud resounds in the empty forest. A dent behind to show in the wood where the bark has already been broken off. Just how long have been doing this? More importantly: why are you doing this to yourself?

No matter his confusion and burning worry, Astarion manages to pull himself together. He knows that the last thing you need right now is him blowing up at you, masking his fear for your state of mind with irritation.

"And what did this poor tree ever do to you, darling?" he finally calls out in a light-hearted tone. Truthfully, he couldn't be farther from playful jokes and jabs.

"Just leave me alone," you answer in a harsh tone as you punch the tree trunk once more. A whine escapes your lips as your tender, wounded hand meets the hard wood again.

He's taken aback - you don't normally talk this way. This unforeseen and much unwelcome, sudden change makes him all the more concerned.

Astarion stops close behind you, his arms crossed across his chest. He's unsure what to do. "Not until you tell me what's gotten into you," he states in a firm tone.

You growl in response. "It's so," you hang your voice to hit the tree, "fucking" you punch the trunk again, "unfair!" you scream out.

Your bloodied, trembling hand is about to land another punch but something, someone, stops you. Astarion lunges forward, pressing his chest against your back and grabbing your arms. His firm grasp forces you to keep your hands close to your body.

"Why do I have to decide who lives or dies?!" you continue yelling as you try to ineffectively wiggle out of the man's iron grasp. "I never wanted to be the hero who saves the world! I never asked for any of this!" Suddenly, your defiance disappears. Tired, hopeless and sore, you let yourself lean against his chest. "So why does it have to be me?" you whisper in a weak voice. Then you shudder as tears begin flowing down your cheeks.

The great hero falls and it is only natural that their fall must be of equal grandeur.

Astarion feels your hands shake but he's not sure whether it's because you've scraped their skin down to raw muscle or because you're crying out all the pent-up anger, grief and anxiety. No matter what's the truth, his undead heart breaks all the same.

"My sweet, sweet love," he whispers into your ear. His cold lips brush against the conch before he softly pecks your neck. "Anyone else would do it wrong."

Part of him wants to add 'except for me, of course' but he knows, deep down in his viscera, that even he would falter. So he remains quiet until your sobbing silences and your trembling comes to a stop. Astarion's grip never eases down until you've collected yourself, holding you tight against him as though you're fine porcelain that even a mere gust of wind could shatter into pieces.

__ Guys when I tell you I almost tripped running to my laptop to write this

#astarion x reader #astarion x you #astarion x tav #baldurs gate 3 #baldur's gate 3 #astarion bg3 #bg3 #bg3 astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion #baldurs gate astarion #bg3 x reader

[camarocarfight]

Alastor's Bloody Valentine

Human Alastor x Reader late Valentine's Day special

Rated very mature with sexual content, murder, blood, and gore. Set in the 1930s with human characters. I suppose you could look at this as being a little Alastor back story.

Maybe there'll be a part deux?

It's kinda edited, but I got lazy and lost interest, and I just wanted to finish it. I hope all of you dear readers enjoy!

New Orleans, 1932

There was a chill in the air, carried in on a breeze that whistled through the old willow trees, and rustled their long, spindle-like branches. The trill of grasshoppers and crickets and the occasional screech of a night owl were customary of the bayou. Only interrupted by the nightly steam train, whose whistle echoed for miles until it faded like a whisper. There was no moon - only an ebony sky accompanied by its thousands of starry hosts. 

As serene as it all seemed, the bayou was one of the most dangerous places to be in 1932. Not just because of the alligators, snakes, and venomous spiders. The neighboring town was full of talk about the Louisiana serial killer, who lured their victims into the darkness of the bayou to slaughter them, leaving no trace or remains. People simply vanished, though it seemed to be mostly men of diverse age and status. Innocent and not so innocent. The most recent being a younger gentleman who had just gotten married. The papers did fail to mention that he'd nearly beaten his new wife within an inch of her life not long after the wedding, but news traveled fast. He was the thirteenth person to go missing.

With Valentine's Day came the fear of who the next victim would be. Mothers and wives kept tight leashes on their sons and husbands, and the police put in place a mandatory curfew. Temporary police sentinels were stationed on street corners, keeping watch over the streets day and night. Which subsequently made it more difficult to get to and from the only speakeasy in town. The police were happy - killing two birds with one stone. 

“Yes, ladies and gentlemen, don't let this curfew get you down. Take your gal out on the town for some swing and make the most out of your Valentine's Day. Ladies, keep your gents close, and stay safe-”

“Y’see,” Mimzy turned the cathedral radio off with a huff and crossed her arms over her voluptuous chest. “This curfew is ruinin’ everything!” 

You rolled your eyes and leaned your elbow on the bar and rested your cheek in the palm of your hand. Mimzy had been on a tangent for the last week for having to close the speakeasy. Being that it was in the basement of an old sugar mill, it was too risky to keep it running with the police snooping around. In one night, with the help of Husker, all of the liquor was moved under the cover of darkness to the crawl space of Alastor's hunting cabin deep in the bayou. The liquor would at least be safe if the police felt it necessary to search the sugar mill. The only thing they'd find would be an empty stage and bar. 

With no speakeasy, the regular meet and greet for you and all of your friends was the cabin. It was a comfortable space, at least. Alastor had used the extra money he made from his radio show to install new, polished wood floors, a nice bar, and even a loft with a decent sized bed when he would stay for the first week of hunting. It also had a decent kitchen, which was Alastor's favorite feature. As for you, Alastor made sure to give you your own bit of space. In the corner of the main room was a stone fireplace with book shelves flanking either side. The shelves were filled to the brim with books of every genre. Hanging above the fireplace was Alastor’s prized Stag - previously occupied by Alastor’s portrait from when he was in the service. You never did tell him just how creepy you found the stuffed creature. Alastor loved the hunting sport, but you appreciated wildlife as just that; alive. 

Mimzy sauntered over from the radio and sat herself on a rickety barstool, her brows pinched. “How am I gonna make money? Who knows how long this whole thing will go on for. And where's Alastor? His show ended an hour ago. His ass better not be dead too.”

You sighed and stood from your barstool to round the bar. There was a bottle of, ironic enough, Red Stag that was already open. It wasn't your first choice, but prohibition made everyone less picky. You poured yourself a generous glass, only for Mimzy to swipe it from you, and gulp it down in one swig. Your eye twitched in irritation as you glared at the woman through your lashes. The relationship between the two of you was decent enough, but as of late, she'd been grating your nerves and testing your patience. Mimzy's flamboyant personality didn’t jive well with your own in an enclosed space. You were more reserved, shy, and softly spoken. Not to mention that the cabin had always been an intimate space for you and Alastor. It didn't seem so intimate now - being that it was now shared space with Mimzy and Husker. 

“Would you like another drink before I pour my own,” you asked, your voicing clipped. 

Your head was pounding now, with a migraine blooming behind your eyes. The little grin that slid over Mimzy's lips told you that she knew exactly what she was doing. 

“Actually, Doll, I would,” she flashed you a grin with her nose wrinkling as she did so. “You're such a good friend,” Mimzy cooed and thrust her empty glass in your face. 

Your grip on the bottle of Red Stag was white knuckle, and you opened your mouth to give her a piece of your mind, but the words caught in your throat when the cabin door opened. Both you and Mimzy looked over to see Husker coming through the door with Alastor trailing behind him. Your shoulders visibly deflated when your gaze met Alastor's.

Mimzy put her glass down on the bar and threw her arms up in glee. “Alastor! I'm so glad to see you!”

“And I you,” Alastor grinned. “Thanks for holding down the fort and watching over my darling for me.”

“I don't need a babysitter,” you grumbled and nodded your head at Husker when he gave you a sympathetic smile. “Hey, Husk.”

“Cher,” Husk greeted in that deep, baritone voice. 

Alastor laughed boisterously and leaned on the bar in front of you. Upon meeting his gaze, his chocolate brown pools started to melt away all of the tension in your body. It was so easy for you to get lost in his eyes. 

“I jest, my dear. Husker here is going to drive Mimzy home, and we are going to celebrate!”

Mimzy quirked a brow and made a sound akin to a high-pitched scoff. “I ain't ready to leave yet. I want to celebrate too! We could have a round of drinks!”

Husk had noticed that you and Alastor had yet to tear apart your gazes and were seeming lost in each other. Alastor flashed you a dazzling smile and leaned over the bar to press a chaste kiss to your lips. That was enough for your cheeks to flush and become a brilliant crimson. 

“C'mon,” Husk grabbed Mimzy's fur coat off the coat rack and all but threw it into the woman's face. “Before I drag your ass to the car.”

Mimzy put her coat on in a huff, then fussed over her hair, throwing insults at Husker as she did so. 

“Thank you,” you mouthed to Alastor and waved to Mimzy as she was all but pushed out the door by Husker. You could hear her nagging as she walked all the way to the door. “Poor Husker.”

“He'll live,” Alastor hummed and gave you a wink. “Mimzy, however,” he chuckled.

“That would be too good to be true,” you mumbled and grabbed the bottle of Red Stag to pour yourself that long awaited glass. “How was work?”

Alastor set about removing his suit jacket and rolled up the sleeves of his white dress. Your gaze was drawn to the newly exposed, tan flesh of his forearms. “Same as always, my dear. I'm sure you were listening?”

“Until Mimzy turned the radio off,” You walked into the main sitting area and sat in your favorite rocking chair. 

In your left hand was your glass of bourbon that you then took a sip of. From over the brim of the glass, you continued to study your partner as he made himself comfortable. Alastor's bowtie was now untied, and the top button of his dress shirt undone, exposing a delicious expanse of his neck. Being that it was Valentine's Day, you hoped that it meant that Alastor wouldn't mind taking everything farther than usual. The man would tease you here and there, whispering dirty things in your ear, because he knew it riled you up. The act of sex, however, just didn't fit his idealism. Any affection from Alastor would include kissing and touching, maybe heavy petting, but the two of you had only had penetrative sex a handful of times. Each time it happened was mind-blowing, leaving you craving more and waiting on bated breath to feel him the same way again. You could feel yourself beginning to flush just thinking about it - the heat slowly building up in your chest and rising until your cheeks were crimson. At least you could blame it on the bourbon, which you quickly threw back and tore your gaze away from Alastor. 

“So,” Alastor sat down on the couch and crossed his legs, and draped his left arm over the back of the couch. “Quiet evening with a shared drink, my darling?”

Honestly, the man was entirely too distracting. It didn't help either that the bourbon was affecting you far sooner than you anticipated. Your mind blanked, seeing Alastor sitting there - sleeves rolled up, bowtie undone, the red vest that matched his trousers that fit him entirely too well. Alastor was your perfect definition of a sex-god that had a distaste for the very thing that you craved. His smoldering gaze and satisfied, closed-mouth grin told you that he knew exactly what  kind of effect he had on you. 

“Are you alright,” he cocked his head to the side. “You look bothered.”

“You're a tease,” you swallowed. 

Alastor’s brows rose in surprise. “Me? I'm just sitting here,” he laughed and beckoned you over with his finger. “Come here, my darling.”

A bolt of red-hot arousal shot right up your spine, and your body moved automatically, seemingly out of your control and under Alastor’s. Alastor moved to uncross his legs and seized you by the hips with his strong hands. You now stood in between his spread thighs, looking down into his brown eyes as he gazed up at you. His lips quirked in a crooked grin, making him look like the cat who got the cream. 

“Tell me how I'm a tease,” Alastor whispered huskily. 

You brought your hands up to cup his face and ran your left thumb along his bottom lip. “You know what you do to me, Alastor.”

Alastor grinned and wrapped his arms around your waist. “Oh, I'm well aware,” the man's pupils were now blown with his own need. “Would you like me to do something about that?”

Relief flooded you, and you nodded eagerly. By now, the bourbon was really beginning to have an effect on you and how much you needed the man before you. “I've been waiting so long, Alastor.”

“The wait makes it worthwhile,” he growled.

Before your tipsy mind could even comprehend what was happening, Alastor stood, effortlessly hoisting you up by the hips, and bounded towards the spiral staircase of the loft Your arms wrapped around his neck and your legs around his slim waist. Alastor’s arousal was very noticeable against your own pelvis. The heat from his girth radiated through his slacks. When his lips met yours in a fevered kiss, your mind blanked with arousal. Your senses quickly became overwhelmed by his touch, his scent, and his taste as his tongue coaxed your own in a scorching kiss. Alastor eagerly devoured your mouth and every subsequent moan he drew from you. He broke the kiss, nipping at your bottom lip as he did so. His lips then trailed down to the column of your neck where he sank his teeth into the supple flesh. You hissed from the pain and carded your fingers through his brunette hair until you had a handful and tugged, earning a groan from him. 

“Fuck it,” Alastor growled and sat you on the steps of the spiral staircase. 

Alastor’s hands snaked up your dress to pull your panties down your legs, leaving the silk garment dangling from your left ankle. You gasped when he cupped your dripping sex in his left hand and breathed against the side of your neck. 

“I’ll have you right here,” he growled and claimed your mouth once again. 

You moaned wontanly into his mouth when he penetrated you with two fingers and curled them against your g-spot. Even though sex was a rare occasion, Alastor had memorized your body from the inside out. Knowing every sensitive spot to kiss, lick, or bite. Alastor groaned and pulled your bottom lip between his teeth and tugged, ripping the most delicious moans from your throat. Each and every sound you made went straight to his cock that was now straining uncomfortably in his slacks. With a tweak of his fingers, Alastor had you coming with his name falling from your lips like the most beautiful prayer. 

“Alastor,” you were breathless, chest heaving as you fought to catch your breath. “I need you inside me.”

Alastor’s eyes darkened, and he carefully withdrew his fingers from your quivering sex. “You’ll have me,” he whispered and kissed you chastly. 

The sound of Alastor’s belt buckle was like music to your ears, as your body was finally getting the attention that it so badly craved. With your left hand, you reached between you and Alastor and took his now freed, sizeable length in your hand. You bit your lip and looked up at Alastor through your eyelashes. Alastor held your gaze as he guided himself into your tight heat, slowly splitting you open and seating himself inside you. Both of you panted, attempting to adjust to the almost foreign sensation. No, you weren’t a virgin, but Alastor had been your first, and since sex wasn’t a regular occurrence, it took both of you longer to adjust. You, more so than Alastor. 

He was thankfully patient, waiting until the pained look on your face was no longer before slowly pulling out and thrusting back into the hilt. The man clenched his teeth painfully and screwed his eyes shut, completely drunk off of the feeling of you fitting around him so perfectly. 

You held onto Alastor tightly, with your nails digging into the flesh of his back, even through his dress shirt. Alastor’s hands had your hips in a death grip, and you hoped that you would have bruises left in their place. You wanted Alastor to claim you - mark you -  so that everyone knew you belonged to him. 

“Come inside me, Alastor,” the words fell from your lips in a pathetic whimper before you even realised what you said.

The look Alastor gave you startled you, and his hips stuttered to a pause. You stared into each other’s eyes for what felt like an eternity, Alastor’s eyes searching your own as if looking for truth behind that request. You feared your moment of intimacy with Alastor was ruined until he started moving once more. This time, he moved slower, taking his time pulling all of the way out and sinking back into you. He continued to hold your gaze and leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead.

“Is that what you want,” Alastor asked, but it was barely above a  whisper. “To be mine, forever?”

Of course it’s what you wanted. Alastor had been your first, and you wanted no one else. It was difficult for you to imagine your life any different. You would be lying if you said you hadn’t thought about starting a family with Alastor. You brought your hands up to Alastor’s face and looked into those chocolate pools.

“Make me yours, forever, Alastor.”

~~~

You awoke the next morning, nestled in the king-sized bed of the loft alone. Alastor was nowhere to be found, with his side of the bed neatly made. Between your legs was an ache and a stickiness in the inside of your thighs that served as a reminder of the previous night's activities. What little bourbon you had, had also left you with a slight headache that settled over your temples. Coffee would be a good fix, and you wondered why you hadn't smelled it perking if Alastor had already been up. 

There was a fire going in the fireplace when you made your way down the staircase, confirming that Alastor was around, but nowhere to be seen. You thought nothing of it and went over to the kitchenette to get coffee perking and breakfast ready for whenever Alastor returned. 

You sat down in your rocking chair by the fireplace when the coffee was ready to enjoy your cup. The chair rocked rhythmically on the hardwood floor, nearly lulling you to sleep until you heard a god awful noise coming from the crawlspace under the cabin. Your first thought was that a stranger or the police had found the liquor stash, and you bolted out of the chair to get the pistol hidden among your books. 

The door to the crawlspace was in the kitchenette and was flung open, revealing a blood covered Alastor. The man looked up at you with blood splattered across his face and chest, staining his white dress shirt. There was enough blood that you couldn't tell if it was coming from Alastor or not. 

You dropped the pistol that was in your hands and rushed over to him, and hooked your arms around his arm. “A-alastor, what the hell? Are you-”

“It's fine!” He laughed and looked down at you with a grin. “It's not mine.”

Your eyes widened, and you took a tentative step away from him and shook your head. “Then, whose is it?”

Alastor ignored your question and casually walked over to the pot of coffee on the stove. He poured himself a mug, all the while humming a song with that same grin on his face. 

“Alastor,” you demanded. “You're scaring the hell out of me.”

“I'm sorry,” he put his coffee mug on the counter and turned back to you. “This,” he pointed to his stained shirt. “Is just the latest victim.”

“The latest…,” you paled, with the details finally coming together. “You're him.”

Alastor flashed you that dazzling grin and opened a drawer next to the stove. Without even looking, Alastor pulled a massive knife out and studied it. 

“Did you know, my darling, that in order to inflict a fatal wound, you need at least fifteen inches of penetration?”

“Please put the knife do-”

You gasped. Before you could even react, Alastor lunged forward, plunging the knife deep in your abdomen. He stood in front of you, holding the blade in place with his smile never faltering. Pain blossomed throughout your body, and you began to choke on the blood that bubbled up through your throat. You coughed and watched the blood mixed sputum splatter across Alastor’s already stained shirt. Tears fell freely from your eyes, staining your cheeks, and your trembling hands grabbed onto Alastor’s arm that still held the knife inside you.

Blinking up at Alastor through your tears, you saw no remorse on his face. Just that twisted grin that you had fallen in love with so many years ago. 

“You should know I'm too much like my father to have children,” Alastor said darkly. “That's a risk I cannot take.”

Alastor pulled the knife out of your abdomen and stepped back as you crumpled to the floor on your knees. The pain was white-hot, but it was nothing compared to that of your broken heart. Your body screamed for his closeness and wanted to hate him for everything. Even after the previous night, after telling you he would be with you forever. In an attempt to stop the bleeding, you held pressure on the wound, but you knew it was no use. You were dying. At the hands of your lover.

“It won't be long, my love,” Alastor got down on one knee and brushed your hair out of your face. “I'm sorry I had to do this.”

“F-fuck you,” you gasped and choked. 

Your vision was beginning to fade in and out, along with your hearing. The weight of your body suddenly became too much and you fell to your side. Before your head hit the floor, Alastor had caught you and laid you down gently. The last sensation you felt, other than the pain, was Alastor kissing you. It was a passionate kiss, similar to that of the kiss you shared while making love. He didn't care about the blood that pooled from your mouth, but seemed to enjoy it more than anything. When he broke the kiss, you met his gaze, struggling to keep your eyes open.

“I'll see you in hell,” you spit, using every ounce of energy you had left before going still.

Alastor smiled down at your now lifeless body and ran his fingers through your hair. A single tear ran down his cheek, and his smile grew into a grin.

“It's a date.”

Part Two

#alastor x you #alastor x reader #human alastor #hazbin hotel #alastor #hazbin hotel x reader

[writing-in-glitter-pen]

♡𖠣 patchwork♡𖠣 II childe x fem!reader II mutual pining, childhood friends to lovers, cheery epilouge

Childe needs to see you before he meets his end; a precipice he is very near to by the time you find him miles from your home, crawling through the snow. To his confusion, you've taken him in and dedicated yourself to nursing him back to health. Little did you both know, your love for one another ran deep enough to heal all wounds.

content warnings: Childe is badly injured so there are descriptions of blood, broken ribs, aches and pains. Descriptions of applying medical stitches to close open wounds. Nothing too descriptive. I am not a doctor so do not try this at home. Mutually possessive themes. A suggestive comment in the epilouge. Let me know if I should add anything else!

Also, happy Thanksgiving everyone :) I am so grateful to each and every person who finds my work and enjoys it; these past six months of my blog being up and running has been so fulfilling and magical. I'm so lucky to have this community ♡ I'm sending all my love to you today ♡

“Blow.”

Childe puckered his split, dry lips and let out a weak breath---no power behind the gust at all. The hot steam that rose from the spoon you held to his lips mocked him; such a small opponent, unshaken and uncooled by his efforts.

You sighed; he wasn’t healing as fast as he should be...meaning, he most likely was ignoring your instructions and not adhering to his strict bed rest.

You were straddling him where he lied on the bed in your guest room, propped up by a mountain of pillows---including the ones from your own bed and the throw pillows from your couch; a desperate attempt to make him as comfortable as possible, which was a feat not easily achieved given his broken state. If you’d sat at his side, he wouldn’t be able to face you, since his cracked ribs made any movement excruciating. Even so, he refused to stay put, risking his health every time he got up in the middle of the night to use the shower or the bathroom. You told him you should be assisting him any time he had to exert himself, but he vehemently refused your help with his hygiene---it was simply humiliating that a grown man like him would need help washing himself, especially your help. “Save me my pride.”, he begged, the grim and embarrassed look on his face making you cave. You agreed to his demands as long as he’d let you walk him to and from the amenities, that way he wouldn't risk falling on his way and injuring himself further. But he’d still disobey and take himself there while you weren’t looking. You took to smelling his hair every time you came to check on him, smoothing it back and lifting your nose to his forehead to check if he showered without you getting him there safely. He always smelled clean, bringing that frustrated frown he loathed to be the cause of to your pretty face.

“You’ll kill yourself.”, you’d warn, “And I’ll have to bury you in the backyard.”.

He didn’t understand why you cared so much—why you, literally, dragged him back to your house after finding him beaten and bloody only a couple miles from your cabin, having crawled from a camp in a Snezhnayan forest he had been instructed to collect a debt from the residents of. They'd expected his visit and prepared an ambush of twenty. Normally, he could win a battle such as this with ease, but his exhuastion from the continuous missions he was assigned by the Fatui without breaks became too much for him. Thank Celestia you found him when you did, having fortunately been scavenging for snow berries in the very same forest.

He had been hauling himself in the direction of your cabin, trying to get as far as he could so that he might deliver you the letter he’d been saving in the breast pocket of his daily coat for years. One he’d carried with him always to ensure that, in the event he met his end, that his final confession would reach you.

A letter he’d been too cowardly to send to you in life—his one and only friend, the girl he grew up with in grade school, who he’d chosen to play make believe in the snow and ice-skate with, rather than hunting and roughhousing with the other boys in his class. It wasn’t that those boyish activities didn’t interest him, it was that his interest in you outweighed those hobbies by tons. You were everything, still were.

That’s why it was so mortifying that you had to nurse him back to health; shouldering the consequences of his deadly line of work.

Not only did he almost lose his life to his opponents, but for you to find him at his weakest made the shame burn all the worse.

You leaned over to where you brought the spoon a centimeter from his lips, nose nearly brushing his own as you gently blew on the sip of homemade chicken soup inside. He felt your warm breath on his lips, the feeling of you made his pale cheeks turn pink and weak heart sputter in his chest.

If his ribs weren't broken, if they were still in the healthy condition of a cage they once were, he might believe his chest housed a hummingbird; the pace of his heart mimicking the incessant beating of it's wings. The way just being close to you stirred and electrified him, you could bring him back to life with just a kiss.

Your eyes flicked back up to his, urging the spoon to his lips, indicating you wanted him to open them.

He did, his gaze not breaking from yours as he opened his mouth and let you feed him. It was such an intimate moment that you forgot to breathe, catching your breath as you watched him swallow the meal you'd prepared for him and him alone. Though you were both quiet, it felt like the room buzzed lowly around the both of you. He didn't know it, but the way he looked at you with such deep warmth made you shiver.

“You were up last night, weren’t you?”, you finally asked, already knowing the answer.

Indignity marred his face as he averted his eyes to the wooden floor of your house, but his break from your irritated gaze didn’t last long. You took his chin between your thumb and forefinger and redirected his attention back to your face.

“Tell me the truth.”

He had no choice now. You had him pinned.

“…Yes, I got up…sorry.”

Your disappointed face made him flinch—stinging more than your anger or scorn ever could.

You sighed, closing your eyes and moving your hand from his chin to cup his cheek, worried eyes boring into his and squeezing his heart.

“You’re delaying your healing process. Every time you get up without help—“

“I don’t need a walker like a decrepit, old man”, he spat, instant regret pailing him. He hated that he snapped at you, hated that he couldn't control himself. His embarrassment would overwhelm him---like it always did when you looked at him like a wounded animal. He turned his face away from you once again, but you pulled his attention right back.

“Stop it.”, your stern command sat like a rock in his stomach. Though, the heavy feeling dissipated when your gaze turned soft and fretting. “I’m sorry I’m playing 'demanding nurse', but I need you to work with me if you’re ever going to get better. I don’t want these wounds to be permanent; getting up without help will make your bones heal wrong, or open your stitches back up.".

He knew better than to take his eyes off of you at this point, but the guilt in his expression told you all you needed to know. His late night walk last night had come with consequences.

“You didn’t—"

Without warning, you threw the blankets off of him, only to find a bloody, crudely secured bandage over the deep laceration on his abdomen. He'd popped his stitches.

“Childe!”, your shriek made him wince. “Why didn’t you tell me!”.

“I’m sorry…”, he started, but you didn’t hear him. You were already running off to grab the first aid kit from the kitchen.

He was getting really sick and tired of disappointing you. He'd been in this room for weeks, been your constant source of anxiety and labor for weeks, and he wasn't getting any better.

...but you were never frustrated. Sure, he'd annoy you with his pride, but no amount of effort put into caring for him would ever be a waste, not to you, at least. He'd pop his stitches or worsen a crack in his ribs with a fall or sharp movement, you'd scold him, but no matter how many times it happened, you'd always redo them, always hold ice packs or heating pads over his aches; carefully, gently.

He watched your beautiful, soft hands work while they drew the needle and thread through him---and he wouldn't flinch. It didn't even hurt. It couldn't, when it was a mesmerizing sight; the way you left what would be permanent scars along his body---covering the old ones left by his enemy. Scars that were not made to wound, but to heal. Any mark you left upon him was gratefully accepted, knowing that he'd now carry evidence of you and your care with him at all times, all the way up until his last day in this world.

Like clockwork, the process was quick and painless. The first time you'd sewn him up, you had no clue what you were doing; fumbling and sobbing as you desperately tried to save his life. Tears clouded your view and your shaking hands couldn't safely find purchase on his abdomen. But Childe steadied you, held you close and whispered reassurances and apologies to you while talking you through every step. Now, he was like your personal patchwork doll. You'd sewn him up every time he went and hurt himself again, each stitch made with love and care.

When you were done, you wiped the area with a warm, firewater-soaked cloth, then applied an antibacterial ointment. He'd tried to take it from you, insisting he could apply it himself, but you smacked his hands away.

"You're my patient. Just sit back and let me take care of you.", you said it like it was nothing; a plain fact, your job. But it wasn't your job. He couldn't see why you were so compelled to shoulder this work yourself when you could've had him carted off to a Fatui infirmary the day you found him.

"They won't take care of you like I will.", was all you would say.

You knew the Fatui infirmary would prioritize getting their war machine in working order as soon as possible, rather than giving him quality treatment and time to heal. You also knew that, since visitors were not allowed into the Fatui headquarters, he would be all alone. And you wouldn't have that. You'd gotten letters to your residence that the Fatui knew you had their harbinger and were coming to collect him, but you used every one of them as kindling for the hearth in Childe's room. Soldiers had shown up at your front door, demanding entry or that you send their harbinger out to them, but to their surprise, you fought them like a wildcat. It was incredible how fierce you'd gotten over the subject of Childe's care, not allowing anyone but yourself to touch him. Your shouting startled the agents and they backed off as you swung the wooden spoon you'd been holding at them, warning them to get lost.

"He'll be back when he's healed and not a moment sooner!", you'd hollered as they begrudgingly trudged away.

Childe's gaze on you was proud and soft at the memory; you were the only person that had ever fought for him---and fought Fatui agents two times your size with a wooden spoon, too.

At your request, he greedily accepted your touch, closing his eyes as he let himself be blissfully consumed by the feeling of your kind hand smoothing the ointment over his skin.

When you finished, you sat back and examined him for a while. You did this often---like you were saving the image of him somewhere deep within you, like you were scared to forget him, scared to lose him. Your gaze washed him in warmth, his chest aching from the well of love he harbored for you. It made his eyes glitter and his heart ask questions it was desperate to know the answers to.

"...why do you put yourself through this?", the question slipped from his mouth in a whisper before he had the chance to think it through. It had been eating away at him since the day you took him in.

You tilted your head, the curious pout on your lips making him gulp; you were so very cute.

"Through what?", you asked.

"This.", he clarified, lifting his arms as much as he could to gesture to the situation you'd both found yourselves in. "...you know you don't have to.".

"I want to.", you argued. "The Fatui wouldn'---"

He interrupted your statement, "wouldn't take care of me like you would, I know. But that doesn't answer my question.", he looked into your eyes with furrowed eyebrows and painful confusion in his expression. "I know I'm burdening you. So why would you put yourself through this?".

In all honesty, he was terrified of your answer. He feared that asking would make you come to your senses and finally send him away; though he knew you deserved to get his hopeless corpse out of your house.

What he didn't expect was the lips he was so enamored with curving into a smile.

"You said you were mine; so you're mine to take care of. No one else's."

Now this perplexed him. He'd been yours since the day he met you, when your pretty face and gentle demeanor tethered him hopelessly to you from your first shared smile. And that tether coiled itself tighter and tighter around him with every day you spent at each other's side, every time he observed your unending compassion---building huts for creatures of the forest before snow storms would hit, patiently helping him with the school subjects he struggled in, babysitting his siblings with him while his parents were away...but what was so confusing was, he'd never told you. He belonged to you in silence and silence alone, neglecting to inform you of the hold you had on the heart he'd willingly given to you long ago.

He was at a loss for words, your exclamation hitting the nail right on the head. He was yours, but how did you know?

His wide eyes and crimson cheeks only made you chuckle, pulling his letter out of the apron you wore---the letter he'd saved on his person at all times for you in the event of his death.

"Unless this isn't yours?", you asked, cheekily.

His face paled. You must've found it after you'd taken him back to your house to care for him. You'd washed his clothes, including his coat, and emptied the pockets before throwing them in the wash bin---finding his letter for you safely tucked in the pocket that rested above his heart.

You opened the letter and read aloud your favorite passage to him:

"When you find my body, I ask that you carve out my heart and take it with you; it belongs to you, just as my body, my mind and my soul, though I fear the whole of me is too heavy for you to carry. Carry this, so you may have me and not be crushed by my weight. So you may have proof that I, and everything I am, belongs to you."

The rosy, dreamy smile that bloomed on your lips as you cantored his confession to him like gospel brought his deepest wishes and desires to life; you accepted him and his love with your full heart. His voice escaped him as you made his dreams come true with just a smile. Your perfect, perfect smile.

"Childe...", you said with a sweetness in your voice that rivaled any dessert he'd ever tasted.

His name falling from your lips made his heart jump.

"...yes?"

"...I love you.", the phrase left your throat like a quiet, ardent cry. I love you. It came from a deep, ancient part of your heart; a space carved out long ago for the boy you spent your childhood with, a space whose walls strain against the fullness of it. You'd stuffed it full of so much care for him, it felt like it was just a pinprick from bursting.

Your words made his own heart whine and scrape at the confines of his chest like a puppy wanting out of its cage so that it may find its beloved owner.

"That's why I take care of you. I love you.". It wasn't an explaination, it was a promise. It was a confession that you were just as tethered to him as he was to you.

Without another word, you scooted closer and wrapped your arms around his shoulders, careful not to lean too much of your body weight on him, but enough to envelop him in your warmth. He felt your heart beating against his, a passionate duet between lovers that had gone too long unsung.

He couldn't hold you in return, his arms aching too much to lift, but he buried his nose in the crook between your shoulder and neck, breathing in your scent as deeply as he could, pressing kisses to the soft space. You loved him. You loved him. He'd believe he was dreaming if the soreness from his wounds wasn't all too real---proof that he was living and breathing in the reality that you wanted him. That you wanted him and he was yours without any hesitation. Now, he was itching to heal, prepared to follow any rules you put in place for him as long as it meant that at the end of the process he could hold you like he wanted to---tight and possessive and finally.

He hungrily kissed his way up the column of your neck, just like he'd done in every daydream he had a moment to indulge in and in the periods of wakefulness he spun in before he fell asleep every night. Every waking thought he could spare was spent in dedication to you you you. He made his way up your jaw, to the sensitive spot behind your ear that made you gasp and shiver; spending a long, devoted moment tending to it eagerly. Then he kissed back down your cheek until he hovered right in front of your lips---pausing there. He looked up into your eyes amorously, pleadingly, silently asking for your permission to press his lips to your own. As if he was unsure if he was worthy or not.

Your loving gaze was enough to give him his answer.

So he shut his eyes and leaned into you as you braced yourself on his shoulders, squeezing them as his cracked lips finally met your own. He ardently devoured you, his desperation overcoming his physical limitations---abandoning his need for physical comfort in lieu of his need to taste you, to lick up every sweet kiss you would give him. He leaned forward as you attempted to pull away, his lips unable to satiate their craving. You relented, laughing lightly as you gently pressed him back down onto the pillows to relieve the sharp pain in his abdomen he sacrificed for a moment more of your lips on his. You indulged him, smoothing your hands up his neck to cup his jaw and hold him as you gave him as much as he wanted---which would never be enough.

No matter how much affection you'd give him, it could never fill the well of longing he'd been digging for you since the day he met you.

He'd yearn for you every moment of every day of his life. In this moment, he made a law for himself to follow: After he heals, he'll take care of himself, treat his exhaustion and avoid lethal injuries, so that he may keep coming back to you with his love in tow---offerings of affection he'd lay at your feet and pray you'd accept. He'd keep his heart beating so it would stay warm for you; so that the day you'd pry it from his chest would remain eras away.

· · ♡ · ·

"Childe, I can hold the spoon.", you demanded, attempting to snatch the spoonful of soup from his hand as he chuckled and evaded your swipes.

Your grumpy, flushed face was too adorable for his heart to take, and the sound of your stuffy voice was too funny.

Oh, how the tables have turned since the day you'd taken him into your home. Once he'd started adhering to your treatment plan wholeheartedly, he healed in record time. Your harbinger had grown stronger and livlier than ever, a feat which he acreditted solely to your kisses and love.

"All I'm saying is, I didn't start healing until you started kissing me.", he had claimed, grinning broadly as he brought you into his arms after being able to stand on his own without pain for the first time since his injury.

He'd moved in not too long after he came back from his first mission since his hiatus, favoring your cozy cabin over any mansion his money could buy. He was grateful to be home with you...but you'd caught a bug while he was away. When you opened your front door with bleary, puffy eyes and the sniffles, he couldn't help but pinch your cheeks and laugh, drawing you in for a kiss. You'd argued and tried to push his face away, shouting that he'd get himself sick, but he only captured your wrists and held them against his chest as he pressed his lips to yours.

"No weak little bug can take down a warrior as strong as me.", he'd arrogantly claimed...

...you hated that he was right.

So he got to steal kisses from you scott free while he nursed you back to health, just as you'd done for him.

And he delivered such sweet payback, playing 'demanding nurse' just like you had.

"C'mon, sweetheart. Open up. Medicine's gotta go down the hatch."

"You're not sleeping alone tonight, love. Gotta keep you warm so your cold doesn't get worse!"

"Maybe you shouldn't shower alone...you might faint. Just let me come with you."

You started to pick up on the fact that maybe not all of his rules and regulations were made solely in your interest.

Now, you were fighting him over whether or not you could feed yourself.

"My arms aren't broken!", you bickered, sniffling and pouting like a stubborn child.

"Ah ah ah! But any physical exertion could delay your progress. You wanna get better, don't you?", he argued, grinning like a fox.

"...yes."

"Then lay back and let me handle you. I gotta take care of what's mine, right?".

You only quit your grumbling because he looked so proud of himself. So cheerful that he got to make you feel better and call you his, just like you'd done for him.

He planted a kiss to your hot forehead, tutting as he pulled away.

"Your fever hasn't gone down yet. Let me get you a cool compress."

With that, he trotted off to the kitchen. You couldn't help but smile at his antics, running about without a break and spending every moment of the day doting on you---all for a little case of the sniffles.

And how could he not? You were his one and only love, and like he said, like he'll repeat any time you need to hear it...

You are his. He is going to take care of you.

#genshin x reader #childe x reader #childe x you #genshin childe #genshin ajax #genshin fluff #genshin x you #genshin impact #tartaglia x reader #genshin tartaglia x reader #childe fluff #friends to lovers #childe genshin impact #ajax genshin impact #ajax tartaglia #tartaglia x you #genshin tartaglia

[cursedkeyboard]

Babies shouldn't grow up ☆ Jason Todd & GN!Reader

What does Jason do when he finds a scraggly looking kid trying to pickpocket a gang member in the slums of Gotham? Beat up the criminals and steal the child, of course. [PART ONE ♤ PART TWO ♤ PART THREE ♤ PART FOUR ♤ PART FIVE ♤ PART SIX]

pairings: Platonic Jason Todd & Child GN!Reader

Just like every other story, Jason found you by pure accident

He was doing his rounds in Gotham, tending mostly to the slums where vigilantes didn't patrol as much and police never cared for

And after being tipped by Oracle about gang activity happening nearby, of course he left to check it out

Lo and behold, the place was crawling with gangsters, but not only that, civilians as well

Civilians like you, who managed to swipe one of the gangster wallet so swiftly even Jason wouldn't have noticed if he hadn't been paying attention to the only kid in the area

Needless to say, his interest was picked immediately

First of; Jason always had a soft spot for kids, so seeing one in such dreadful place immediately set off the protective alarms in his head

Second of; You reminded him so much of himself it fucking hurt

Nimble fingers, swift footsteps, a scratched up face

Clearly starved, clearly beaten, clearly abandoned

It was like looking at a mirror and seeing into the past

So when you accidentally bumped into another gangster as you tried to leave the scene, falling to the ground and letting the wallet slip from your hand, Jason didn't hesitate

Before any of the criminals tried to even look at you, Jason was already smashing their faces against the dirty streets

You, a smart street kid, immediately escaped into an alleyway as Jason created havoc by taking every gang member by himself, effectively stopping their arms deal before it even started

It was bloody, maybe a little too vicious for a certain old Bat's liking, but Jason wasn't taking any chances

Once he was done and Oracle had already updated the police to go and grab the knocked out men, Jason went looking for you

Luckily for him, the alley you slipped into was one with a dead end

He found you crouched by a large garbage bin, a cut on your cheek, and a mean little glare

Jason tried hard not to laugh

Look, you were such a small thing at that age, barely ten or so

For someone trying to be intimidating, you sure looked like a puppy

A puppy with rabies that wanted very much to chomp his fingers off but a puppy nonetheless

Instead of laughing, he crouched too, making himself smaller and less intimidating despite his large size, showing you his empty hands when you looked like you were about to bolt or bite

Jesus Christ, you were small

Could you even reach his hips?

In all honesty, he didn't think much at the moment

he didn't stop to calculate the risks or the consequences

not did he really care about how incredibly selfish he was being, trying to mend his own old wounds by using you

All Jason did was pull off his helmet, extend a hand, and ask; "Wanna come with me, squirt? I can get you a much better place than this shithole."

And while you argued that you learned never to trust strangers or follow weird men home, you also knew about Red Hood, the only vigilante to truly care about the poor in Gotham

And he'd shown his face, which, you know, vigilantes never do

So you hissed and tried your best to be a mean little shit

When Jason only laughed, never raising a hand nor his voice, something inside little you calmed down

Adults usually screamed at you when you were being annoying

Some slapped and hit you for glaring at them

But this adult... he was kind

You could tell instinctively, as a kid who barely ever experience any gentleness

You gave in with a grumble and Jason immediately wrapped you in his jacket and pulled you up in his arms

He saw you weren't wearing any shoes and he didn't want you cutting your little feet in some disease ridden glass

You tried to argue

"I'm heavy!" You had squeaked as you tried to push away from his chest

he laughed, annoyingly warm

apparently to him you weighed the same as three and a half apples

He even made a show of throwing you in the air a little when you insisted

Your little squeak put the biggest smile on his face

Jason couldn't lie, you looked fucking adorable when he put you on his motorcycle, his spare helmet so much bigger than your little head

God, he was already growing fond and it hadn't even been thirty minutes since he met you

As he strapped you in as securely as he could, making sure his jacket was closed and the helmet wouldn't slip, a familiar voice spoke up again

Oh, right, she was there the whole time

Oracle asked him if he knew what he was doing

Jason turned his comms off and drove home

He had a room to decorate and a child to feed

And as you wrapped your little arms around his middle, gasping and wow-ing as you saw parts of Gotham you had never seen

Jason knew this wouldn't be a one-time thing

To be continued...

#jason todd #red hood #red hood x you #red hood x y/n #gender neutral reader #gn reader #platonic #platonic jason todd x reader #platonic red hood x reader #jason todd x gn!reader #batfamily x reader #dad jason todd

[jxckchxmpi0n]

Sweet Romance

Spiderman Ethan Landry x Fem!Reader

summary: you haven't had a date night in mouths, so Ethan decided to make it up to you with a peaceful night in the park.

word count: 1.6k

warnings: Angst, Fluff, cursing, mention of blood, mentions of nsfw

did not proof read || m.list

You don't know how you got so lucky with him. His sweet chocolate brown eyes, his super curly hair. You look at him like he is a piece of art, and maybe because he is. The nights you couldn't sleep, finding him shirtless lying next to you, the outline of his back muscles casting shadows over the rest of his back. the moles that painted his pale skin.

The feeling of his lips on your body every day, even when he is messy and needy, he still knows how to look beautiful. How his hair will lay in different directions after waking up, the way his hands dance around your body, lightly touching yet roughly holding you.

He was your everything, and that's why it ruined you every night seeing him crawl through your window covered in blood, some nights he'd pass out before fully stepping into your room. Pulling him to your bed as his chest rose and fell slowly.

Your fingers danced on his body late some nights over every scar he had. tangled together in your sheets, you felt like crying. You don't want him to die. He means too much to you. You felt selfish as well, knowing how much he loves helping others.

"What if you stopped?" Your head rested on his bare chest, his eyes halfway shut from a long night. He could hear the fear in your voice as you spoke.

"Stopped?" he didn't want to argue tonight, not again this week. He untuked his arm from behind his head, turning so he hovered over you.

"Yeah, stopped. You know it's hard on me seeing you all bloody coming through the window. " Your eyes couldn't face his. The fear of crying was too strong. Your fingers traced a scar that laid under his collarbone, and his breath still hitches every time you touch him.

"Hey, y/n/n, look at me, love." his index and middle finger forced your chin up. his hand fully cupping the side of your face. "I know you want me to stop, but they need someone out there. They need me." his eyes were so big, looking between your own.

"I need you. I need you here in bed with me. I need you breathing, alive. I need you to not be beaten up into a pulp. " Your voice was shaking a little at the thought of seeing him like that again.

"I know, baby, i'm sorry. but i won't stop, at least not right now. " his voice was so soft, barely above a whisper, like his words were only meant for you. his fingers traced the outline of your features, pushing hair strains out of your eyes.

You couldn't speak, your voice would be too harsh, and he doesn't deserve that. closing your eyes, you nodded, his head fell down, falling to capture your lips. the sweet taste of your ChapStick mixed with the mint of the toothpaste. he didn't push hard. He just held your lips to his like it was the last because you both knew that some random kiss you share may well be the last.

A few weeks have passed since you've asked Ethan to stop. From there, he seemed to put some space between you two. At least during certain nights, you knew he had a rough night when you'd see him the next day, and he could barely stand without whining.

He didn't go to you the night he had it bad now, knowing how much it hurt you. He didn't know how to patch himself up right so you would fix the taped bandages anyway. Fewer words were said during the nighttime. He'd come and go and be back the next night. maybe you were right. Maybe he needed to stop because seeing how he couldn't hold you at night broke his heart.

He had an idea, though, a good one he hoped at least. It was no later than eight o'clock when a knock at your door echoed through. confused, you got up from the couch, Ethan's sweatshirt hugged your body. It was your favorite one, and he melted every time seeing you in it.

Peeking through the hole, you couldn't see much but flowers, a smile spread across your face. Opening the door, you saw Ethan holding your favorite flowers, an innocent smile laid on his face. When his eyes landed on you, his eyes rolled back, biting his lip as well as he saw you in his sweatshirt.

"What are these for?" Taking a few steps in, he leaned down, kissing the top of your head.

"These are for you, they're 'I miss you flowers' and 'I want to take you out flowers,' he smirked as he saw you blush.

"How thoughtful?" You turned, leaving him at the door. "I have other plans though Landry" he closed the door, taking quick pace steps to follow.

"And your plans are me," filling a vase he stood on the other side of the kitchen watching you. feeling his eyes scan your body. Oh, it's been a while since you've had him.

"Oh really." The flowers laid so neatly in the vase leaning in and smelling them, pollen filled your nose as the sweetness filled the room.

"Yes, and I want to take you out now." his arms went around your body, the warmth of his body poured into your back. "Come on, love." his lips brushed your ear as he whispered to you.

"Fine, but let me -" his arms tightened around you as you spoke, but his voice broke you up.

"No, don't change. go like this, I like seeing you in my clothes. " A chuckle came from your chest as you listened.

"Fine, I won't change," you faced him blush creeping on your face.

"Then let's get going," he pulled you by your arms towards the door. He was giggling like a little school boy. "I'll grab your shoes just head to the car." he pushed you out of the front door with an evil smile.

Ethan ran around your apartment looking for your shoes. Once he grabbed them, he ran out the door, swinging down the staircase. He landed near the car, causing you to jump. "Rah Ethan, you know I hate when you do that." he held his chest as he laughed. Apologizing, he kissed your head and helped you into the car.

"So first stop, we are going to go to the food trucks and get so much food." he looked between you and the road.

"Food trucks, huh?" The sky was dark, and the city was alive and bright with lights. You watched as different people filled the street, couples, families, laughing, smiling.

"Yes, because that's where we had our first date, you know." he parked the car, fully turning to look at you. The street light lit the car with a soft yellow hue, and fog started to roll in.

"I sure do remember." Your heart fluttered at how such a little sentence means the world to you.

He helped you out of the car and walked with his hand in yours. He knew he's been distant lately. Trying his best to give you the best night, that's all he wants.

"Listen, I'm sorry -" you looked at him with an intense stare, "I know I've been distant, and I know that it's been hard seeing me fight, but I just want to give you this night. Just to show you how much I love you, how much I adore you, how much I can't stand being away from you" he looked down at you with such love, his eyes melting into yours, his voice so soft and vulnerable.

Your eyes softened as you looked at him, you can't stay mad at him. He's trying, and that's what matters.

You couldn't speak your mind because what else is there to say besides, "I love you," a low whisper came from you.

He smiled. "And I love you so so much." His hands cupped both sides of your face, kissing your forehead, your nose, and then your lips.

Soft, slow, and smooth. That's what it felt like. His chapped lisps brushed yours as he held your head. His tongue danced on your lower lip, giggling as you broke the kiss.

For the rest of the night, you stopped at different food trucks, trying different foods, laughing smiling, and holding each other.

Hours had passed. It was just you and him in an empty skate park. He held your hands as you tried balancing on the board. "No, no, don't let me go," your laugh echoed in his ears.

"I promise I'm not." he took little steps guiding you around. "You are doing great love come on, let me let go"

Your eyes shot up at him, "Absolutely not!" You shared the same bright smile.

You messed around on the board for hours. You sat on it as his webs stuck to it, running around pulling you around.

"Ahh baby," he turned to sharp, making you hit a rock. Rolling off, you laid on the floor. He ran to you, worried he hurt you.

You were laughing, begging him to do it again. He huffed out a breath as he saw you weren't hurt.

"Come on, I think we should call it a night," he helped you up

"No no no this is too much fun!"

"Love, it's one am." The sky was dark yet light because of the city lights. Less people were around. The only ones left were you and Ethan. A few single people walking around.

"Fine, but I want you to stay. Stay with me tonight. " he shot his webs, grabbing the skateboard, holding your hand in this other.

"As you wish," he kissed your head and walked with you.

Your chest was light. Maybe after tonight, things will be different. Both of you realized the importance a simple night was for you.

Holding you again, feeling you tangled together in bed was something that he always looked forward to, and waking up next to you made him even more complete.

#jack champion #ethan landry #scream vi #ethan landry imagine #ethan landry x reader #jack champion imagine #jack champion x reader #ethan landry smut #ghost face x reader #spider avatar #spiderman ethan landry #avatar spider #spiderman

[ultralightpoe]

Silent Heartbreaks  - Aemond Targaryen

Authors Note: Lmao. Yikes. 

Word Count:1966

Warnings: reader is hurt, pregnancy issues, angst angst angst 

Description: Reader is hurt during a siege when Aemond was not there 

        The heavy sounds of his boots hitting the ground beneath him were the only things to be heard as the Prince stormed through the keep in the middle of the night. 

          The rain clung to his skin and riding leathers as the torch he was holding did little to dry him off. He had lost his escort guard the second he entered his home, moving to fast for the man in heavy armor. 

            Whirling around a corner sharply he knocks into a young maid, bloodied and beaten, cursing softly as he tried to catch her fall. His hand lands on her elbow as he holds her up, watching her sob harshly.

           “Please!” She wails, flinching back and covering her face with her open arm. “I beg of you, please!”            “I am not here to hurt you.” Aemond mutters, a softer tone to his voice as he realizes just how awful the siege had been. He bends his knees so that he may be at her level, hushing her softly. “I am no threat here. I’m just looking for my wife, Princess Y/n.”

          “I- no no nono-” She sobs some more, trying to tear away.

           “Take her to any maesters available.” Aemond orders the guard who had just caught up. “He is going to take you, to get help.....”

             The female before him sobs some more and runs to the guard, hesitating when the guard continues staring at him. “My prince, I cannot leave-”

           “She needs medical attention, and I need to find my wife.” Aemond snaps, turning to continue down the hall, feet moving faster and faster with each room he checks. 

          His patience was beginning to wear thin, the anxiety and fear eating up at him as he kicks in each door.  Grunts and pants filled the halls as his body began tiring, tears beginning to fall until finally he kicks in the door to his sisters room. 

           There are a couple screams, the loudest being from his sister Helaena, as he sees her skirt rustle while she hides. He rushes to her, wrapping his arms around her for a moment before pulling back. 

              “Where is she? Helaena where is my wife?” He asks, wiping tears from her eyes. 

           “Gone is the voice.” She murmurs, hands gripping at his shoulders aggressively. “Gone is the voice!”

            “Aemond-” His mother gasps out, a gash on her head as she rushes to him. “You should be-”

             “We were sent word that there was to be a siege, I came back as soon as Vhagar could take flight.” He explains, setting the torch in a holder before spinning on his mother. “Where is my wi-”

            “Aemond they came and tore down all the guards-”

            “WHERE IS MY FUCKING WIFE?!” He screams, gripping her arms as she nods silently, pointing to his sisters bedroom. He thanks her silently, guilt beginning to rush him but he does not take a moment to think on it, hands shaking as he reaches for the door.

           His breath is caught in his lungs, a nauseating feeling taking over as he swings the door open slowly, taking two very slow steps inside the room. 

           It had obviously been ransacked, blood on the pillow and across the sheets, but no you. Bookshelves knocked over with a sword stuck in its side, but he didn’t see you.

         Panic lodged up his throat before he finally sees you, crouched under the desk, keeping your head tucked in between your arms as you rock back and forth.  

         He crouches low, practically crawling over to you, hands outstretched as he slowly touches your elbow. You jump back, trying to crawl away but he grabs at your sides, pulling you into him softly. 

          You struggle for a moment, not making a single sound as he moves your head to make eye contact with you. “It’s me... dearest it’s me...”

           You nod quickly as the tears fall freely, hands gripping at his wrists tightly while you look around in panic, letting him run a thumb over your bruises. Your face was beaten terribly, blood stained a side of your face and your lip was completely busted open. 

          “Who did this to you?” He asks, voice stern but still keeping it low, tears falling from his own eyes. “Tell me what they did to you.... Tell me who did this to you.”

          He brings your forehead together, kissing your nose as you silently sob, hand flying to your stomach while he pushes some hair back from your face. “It’s okay...It’s okay, just breathe.”

         He takes a moment to check your stomach, seeing the trail of blood running down your leg. You look down the same time he does and let out an actual sob, the first sound you’ve made since he’s found you.

           He’s quick to lift your chin up gently, drawing your attention back to him. “Look at me, don’t focus on that right now.”

         He hears his mother and sister enter the room slowly, clutching onto one another as they watch you both.  “Where are your children, Helaena?”

         “They....they...” She sobs instead of being able to answer, Alicent gripping her hand. 

          “The first to be slaughtered by those monsters.” She snaps, coming closer.  Aemond doesn’t drag his eyes away from you, instead he keeps rubbing your cheek and moving closer. 

          He does not hear his mothers words, doesn’t even bother to listen to the sentence his sister is repeating over and over, instead he begins pulling you up off the ground. “Y/n we must go... we can make it to the cabin by sunrise-”

           “Cabin?!” Alicent snaps, confusion written all over her face as she moves closer. “What are you-”

         “I took some precautions,” He explains softly. “I took some precautions for my family. And it is time for us to go.”

          “Helaena help us grab her-”

           “NO!” Aemond yells, stepping in front of you. “There are guards on their way for you. They can help, I need to get Y/n to safety.”

         He does not wait for her answer, blatantly ignoring her screams of frustration as he lifts you and walks out. You cling to him as he walks through the keep, murmuring softly as you try and catch your breath.

           Vhagar is humming lowly when he reaches her, something he knows she does whenever the dragon is worried. “Vhagar, low.”

          She listens instantly, (lmao for once) humming low as she bends her head down. “Y/n.... I am going to readjust you...okay? Okay?”

         He moves you so you were wrapped around him, round belly making a bit of a struggle but he figures it out, climbing up to the saddle where he sits you and gets you ready for the flight. 

         “The babe will be fine.” He whispers, though he doesn’t know who he was trying to convince.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

         Just as he predicted they had made it to the island by sunrise, Vhagar now sleeping softly in the sand. 

        He laid you down in the bed, tucking you in so he could clean your wounds. Humming softly as he does so, keeping his touch gentle. 

          Once he is done, he removes his clothes and slowly lays beside you in his undergarments. Hand splayed out on your stomach as he hums until he falls asleep beside you. 

         He wakes up to the sound of you pacing back and forth, opening his eye slowly to sit up in a panic, searching the room to find you leaning against a chair in pain. 

         “Y/n....” He calls slowly, crawling off the bed. You don’t give a verbal response, instead just nodding and limping towards him while your face is scrunched up in pain. 

        “Let me summon the maestors.” He says lowly, kissing your palm and moving you to lay down. He works quickly, sending a raven before setting a pot of water over the fire and dipping a washcloth in it to bring to your forehead, humming your favorite song over and over.

        “Tell me how I can help.... darling, tell me what I can do.” His chest aches as you silently sob, hand gripping his arm while he keeps you close. “Tell me...”

       His sister, Rhaenyra, arrives with a group of handmaidens and a worried look. They surround you instantly, all getting to work as his sister moves to your other side of the bed, rubbing you hair. 

        “I hadn’t known about the siege.” She admits lowly, “If I had I would have had Y/n taken out safely.”

         “I know.” Aemond answers, hand gripping your own as he refused to look anywhere but you. “I believe you.”

        You scream then, loud and painful as he leans his head in to touch against yours, kissing your nose. His chest feels like it is about to explode as he hears your screams, letting you grip his arm tightly. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

          His sister is on the other side of the room, starting another pot of water, letting Aemond sit with you a moment. 

         Sweat clings to every inch of your body, the bottom half of the bed covered in blood. He sits beside you, one arm around you while the other holds a small bundle, a purple eyed child sleeping peacefully. 

        “I’m sorry.” Rhaenrya whispers as she comes closer, laying the cloth on your head as you moan softly, sleep clinging to you so closely. 

          “They are going to call me a traitor.” Aemond whispers, voice tight. “Aemond Targaryen, kin traitor.”

        “Aemond Targaryen, hand to the queen.” Rhaenyra corrects, rubbing your hair. “Aemond Targaryen, kin saviour.”

          You moan once more and he looks down to you, pulling you as close as he can, trying to ease the pain as much as he possible could. “Maegar.”

          “I’m sorry?”          “Maegar. First of his name.” Aemond smiles, handing her the babe. 

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

        You stayed silent for a while after, but Aemond didn’t mind, so long as you were alive. 

         He braided your hair every night, humming your favorite song as you fed your son.

       He missed his family, his mother and sister. But he had betrayed them for you, for his son. A fact he would never regret. 

        He would do anything for you. 

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

           The first time you speak again is months after the siege, Aemond had just come back from a council meeting with his sister and came in to find you holding Maegar close to your chest, crying softly. 

          He is upon you in an instant, looking for any sort of danger. “What is wrong? What happened?”

        You allow him to press his forehead to yours, his hands holding your jaw softly. “Maegar...”

         He freezes at hearing your voice, eye watering as he looks to you. “Is he alright?”

          You nod, smiling very softly as you move so Maegars face was shown to Aemond, who brought his hand to the childs head, faintly touching it. 

           He doesn’t try to push his luck with you talking, taking this as a win before he helps you put the babe to bed, letting you lead him to the bath.  

          He helps you remove your nightgown, one of the only things you really wore these days, before you move to help him undress as well. 

          He watches you in the bath, letting you wash his hair and clean around his face, kissing softly as you work. His heart beat quickens when you begin humming, pulling him in to you for a hug and letting him sob. 

          “Imsorry.” He sobs, hands clinging to your back. “thisisallmyfault.”

          “No it isn’t.” You whisper, voice scratchy from the lack of use. “You did what you could. We’ll figure it out.”

         He sobs into that night, letting you rub his head gently as you hold him to you, humming and letting the tears fall freely. “We are going to be okay....” 

----------------------

AEMOND TAGLIST 

@Schniiipsel

@Sluttyaemond

@Lovelynerdytraveler

@Rosaryos

@Bbyhangman

@Winxschester

@Neenieweenie

@anthonys-viscountess​

@Ggglitch-exe

@Shnadaidas

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@Afro-hispwriter

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@Destroyingdestiny

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@Applepyesworld

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@Yu3kkii

@Mell-bell

@Justsumtuffstuff

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@Princessmiaelicia

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@m1ndbrand

@bregarc

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@lilbug139

@Valhallavalkyrie9

@Disturbing-love666

@Kittykylax

@Padfooteyes

#aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen smut #aemond #aemond targaryen angst #House of the dragon #house of the dragon x reader #house of the dragon imagine #aemond targaryen possessive

[blacklegsanjiii]

So I just got back from the theater watching demon slayer and I have thoughts about Tanjiro!Sanji.

There are demons in the OP world and there is a demon slayer corps that Mihawk and Sanji are a part of. Mihawk is a Hashira and claimed the title of world's greatest swordsman from a demon. Sanji goes through all the training and is technically a fully fledged member but there's been a dwindling number of demons for years, Sanji hasn't been called away for a mission since Baratie. Having just got back a week before joining the crew. He retired during the two year time skip due to realizing helping Luffy is his main priority and demons aren't really a problem anymore.

Sanji does have Tanjiro's nose and he is suffering. Then he notices Zoro starts smelling different thanks to his Asura form. Sure he's the Demon of the East Blue but it's just a name. Though he did crawl back from Hell to kill Sanji. Then a crow appears on the Sunny and appears to be following Sanji and then departs a few hours later. Sanji stares after it and smiles brightly at the crew. It's the first time he's been visited by one since retiring.

Robin mentions crows usually are warnings, foreboding messengers with ill intent. Sanji laughs and says he has a few extra things to do at the next island. When they get there he waits for everyone to be asleep before he goes looking. He runs into Mihawk and he thinks it shouldn't be a problem if it's the two of them. It's a small problem, it's an upper rank demon, something not seen in decades.

They're both beaten and bloody and the demon has gotten away because the sun is rising. The crow finds them and lets them know upper rank demons have been making appearances more often and that they are both needed at the head of the corps to discuss this. Sanji says he's retired and can't go back. His crew will freak out if he leaves again, but he'll take care of whatever he finds. He heads back to the Sunny when the crow assures him and Mihawk more members will be there by nightfall.

The crew is shocked to see Sanji come back in the state he's in. He waves it off and says it was just a small fight he accidentally got into. Zoro puffs a breath at him and they leave after breakfast. Chopper checks over Sanji and deems he'll live but needs to go on light duty. A few islands later Sanji and the others are out drinking and soon it's just him, Luffy, and Zoro walking back to the ship. Sanji had a guy feeling that told him to bring his sword and he smells it when they're on the way back he looks and -

It's a fucking kid. The demon is a fucking kid. It's an upper rank too. Sanji is staring at it wide eyed and Zoro tells him to leave the kid alone. The island is small and almost deserted so it's not like it can get lost and that's the problem. The demon smirks as spikes shoot out of a hand it raises that Sanji manages to stop. Luffy and Zoro look fully and Luffy asks what's wrong with the kid as they take fighting stances.

"So these are the two students of Dracule Mihawk? A retiree and a half demon?" The child sneers.

"Don't know what you're talking about kid. You should go home before picking a fight you can't win." Zoro warns but the demon moves in a blink of an eye and Zoro barely blocks the sharp claws of the kid.

They fight and Zoro and Luffy don't understand why this kid is so strong, why it's not going down. Sanji is trying to get them to leave because he doesn't want them to get hurt by a fucking demon. Luffy grabs the kid around the waist and yelps in surprise when the kid splits in half and then regenerates.

"Woah, what kinda devil fruit is that?" Luffy asks.

"I'm a demon, not a devil fruit user like you!" The kid shouts and Sanji starts using his breathing forms so Zoro and Luffy get hit with a one two punch of demons and Sanji's sword skills. It would be great if there were more demon corps members here, active or not, to take this thing. Sanji tells them they have to behead it and Luffy and Zoro are like 'were not killing a kid' and Sanji doesn't have time to explain it's not a kid and hasn't been for years.

Sanji eventually gets a hit to the demon's neck but his sword is stuck even with breathing techniques so he kicks it. He hates himself for it, but it works in actually decapitating the thing and the body starts turning to ash. He picks up his sword and winces it the nicks in the blade. Sanji explains what happened on the Sunny after Luffy gets everyone.

"Wait, how come that kid knew Mihawk? And why the hell did it say he had two students?" Zoro asks.

"Right, see, I was raised by him and I joined the corps but I retired." Sanji explains.

"Corps?" Robin asks.

"Yeah, there's a whole multi island years long training thing to go through to kill demons." Sanji nods.

"And you did it?" Nami asks.

"For a few years."

"The World Government must sanction it then." Usopp says.

"No, it exists outside the government, we think they know demons are real and just act like they're nocturnal devil fruit users." Sanji shrugs.

"Why?" Franky asks.

"Well, demons get stronger with the more humans they eat. Devil fruit users get stronger the more they train and those can look really similar." Sanji answers.

"Can you have a devil fruit user who is a demon?" Robin asks.

"Ya know, that's not something we ever experimented with but I'll write a letter." Sanji grimaces.

"Yeah get to that, swirls." Zoro grunts.

"At least I don't smell like demon." Sanji shoots back and ignores the questions about that. A few days later a crow lands on the railing next to Sanji who blinks at it.

"You and your crew have been requested to come to the masters island at once or you will be brought by force." The crow says.

"I'm retired!" Sanji yells at it.

"Mihawk and the master will be waiting." The crow says before flying away as Sanji screams and sets his legs on fire.

#tanjiro!sanji #monkey d. luffy #roronoa zoro #black leg sanji #vinsmoke sanji #one piece au

[ddagent]

27

"Good afternoon. I have an appointment at five o'clock?"

Aziraphale Fell smiled at the lovely receptionist in the dentist, who handed him a stack of paperwork after he politely reminded her - yet again - that he did not have an email address, had no desire to have an email address, and he had no issue filling in paperwork. She handed him a biro with a chewed end and sent him upstairs to await Doctor Service.

The waiting room at the Whickber Dental Practice was small: there were six seats, all told, and a sprawling figure with black snakeskin boots was taking up half of them. Upon spotting the figure, the hand clutching the clipboard fell. "You."

A pair of sunglasses slipped downwards and an easy smile bloomed on the other man's face. "Angel. If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were stalking me."

"Hardly. And I have a name, you know. It's not Angel."

The other man merely snorted and went back to perusing an out-of-date copy of Gardner's Weekly. Aziraphale took one of the empty seats opposite, nose wrinkling at the pen, and began filling out the forms required before his appointment. More than once, his gaze drifted to the dreadful man opposite him. They had first met in line at the coffee shop - where this awful man had pushed past Aziraphale in the queue. Next had been the pharmacy - where Aziraphale had let everyone bar him cut in front. Then the post office. The Dirty Donkey. Even waiting for a table at the new restaurant Aziraphale had been dying to try.

It was becoming rather ridiculous. Yet, Aziraphale had no desire whatsoever to get to know this man that fate kept throwing in his path. Aziraphale's gaze darted in his direction, following the long line of his legs. Even if he was bloody gorgeous.

Aziraphale quickly busied himself. He had forms to fill out. His brushing habits were excellent: twice a day, electric toothbrush, regular flossing. He began to falter, however, when he came to the questions on units of alcohol and sweet treats per day.

"You can lie, you know. They won't know." Aziraphale glanced up from his form. The man was watching him intently. "It's what I do."

"But they will. Know, I mean. They can tell from my teeth." Aziraphale, shame crawling over him, put down the accurate units. Ish. "For the best."

The man hummed. "I 'spose. But we both know that whatever advice they give you, you'll be back to ignoring it before lunchtime. Maybe at a charming bistro or a lovely patisserie."

Aziraphale flushed. He did not care for this man's judgement - especially from a man who had a beaten packet of cigarettes in his front pocket and a dusty mouth guard case that looked like it hadn't been opened since the 90s. But, before he could be drawn into yet another argument about social decorum, Doctor Sandwich's dental assistant appeared.

"Anthony Crowley?"

The man raised his hand. "That's me." He stood from the chair, hips swaying as he followed the assistant. Before he climbed the short flight of stairs to the dental suite, he stared at Aziraphale. "A pleasure, as always, Angel. Where will we meet next?"

"Nowhere, if there is a God."

The man, Crowley, threw his head back and laughed. He then offered Aziraphale a wink and went to his appointment. Aziraphale just sat, clipboard firmly clutched in his hands, and tried to focus on the fact that he loathed this man - and not that the acrobatics his stomach was making at the memory of the way Crowley had stared at him. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad if they were to run into each other again. Maybe.

Give me a number - that’s how many seconds I’ll spend thinking of an Aziraphale/Crowley AU to write for you in 200 words or more.

#aziraphale x crowley #good omens #ineffable husands #brought to you by my own dental woes #basically I'm fighting with my new mouth guard and my wisdom tooth hates it #dd: prompts #dd: fanfic

[snapple16]

Hello, Hello! So since I mentioned it here first I'm gonna share the first ch for the Bowuigi 20s au here! Now as I say on my fics comments much appreciated!

Warnings!

Tw: Blood, Guns. It's a gang fic so..

Also this ch is tame compared to what I have planned

____________________________________________

Cricket song filled the night air as fireflies danced amongst the tree trunks. The small man-made lake glittered in moon light, owls called out to the night as they took flight. It was a peaceful night, until the grind of wheels on the dirt road interrupted the nighttime symphony. The headlights of the two vehicles were kept off even though the occupants were on their own land. They didn't want to draw attention to themselves. The first vehicle, a Willy's Overland Whippet 93A came to a stop just on the shores of the lake. The car's occupants filed out, the four turtle like creatures moved quickly around to the large padlocked chest strapped to the back. The driver pulled a large key ring from his pocket, letting out a triumphant noise when he found the key on the large ring and unlocked the trunk. The larger of the four a five foot ten bruiser reached in and pulled out the beaten up occupant.

"Pl-please.. I.. I didn't want to.." The koopa pleaded as he was dropped unceremoniously on the ground. The green shell on his back was cracked badly, leaking blood as did his nose. The brown hair on his head was matted from blood and dirt. The front passenger door of the specially built Rolls Royce Phantom Limo opened as a nicely dressed koopa hybrid got out, his head was clean shaven a few black scales dotted around his single eye while the other was covered in an eye patch. A black shell lay over the suit jacket.

He moved over to the back of the door and opened it allowing the King to exit. "King" Bowser Ryujin was an intimidating sight for his men to behold no matter how many times they saw him. Standing a little over seven foot tall with firey red hair slicked back between two sharp horns, sharp fangs poked out from his bottom lip of a mouth set in a human face that always had a nasty smirk. Dressed in his nice three piece suit with his large spiked green shell on the back he looked every bit of the Mafia boss that he was. His scaled tail swished back and forth like a cat waiting to pounce on its prey, fiery red eyes glowed as they focused on the koopa man before him. From behind him came a much shorter man with round rim glasses and a pointy cone hat perched on his head, dressed in a fancy suit Kamek did not look at all that intimidating until he waved the wand that doubled as a cane.

The bloodied koopa started to crawl toward his old boss still trying to plead his case. "Boss, I.. I'm so sorry I didn't want to. You gotta believe me. King Boo he.. he tricked me.. he said he'd-"

The koopa flinched as the one eyed koopa reached into his jacket, the traitor expected a gun or a knife instead he pulled out the case holding the King's prefered cigars. The other koopa pulled one out and deftly clipped the end and offered it up to his king. Bowser plucked it from his third's fingers holding one end up to his mouth where he blew a small flame on the end catching it on fire. He blew it out allowing the end to smolder before he stuck it between his lips.

"Marky, Marky, Marky." Bowser shook his head as he started toward the shivering koopa on the ground before him. "I don't care why you did it. I don't care that you let that over sized marshmallow trick you. I care that you BETRAYED me, now had you come to me and told me what he was going to do, I might have let you live for even entertaining the idea of betraying me. Maybe I'd only take a finger or a hand. Now I'm afraid you put me in a difficult position: Kill you quickly and end your suffering, or make it last."

In what seemed like a split second of thinking the koopa Mark chose for him. Seeing no other way out of the situation alive Mark tried to scramble up and make a run for the lake. He seemed to have forgotten what the king had living in the lake, for in a matter of seconds he was overwhelmed by alligators attracted by the scent of blood. The screaming only lasted a few seconds. Bowser took a deep inhale of his cigar before letting out the smoke with a few sparks.

"Howitzer." Bowser motioned to his third.

"Sir." Howitzer nodded, he didn't even need to be told what to do already knowing what his boss wanted done. It was going to be an unpleasant night for Mark's family.

*

The midday sun shone brightly on the street, the pedestrians had smiles as they enjoyed the spring sun. The warm beams seemed to point toward one particular flower shop, the shop name Bella Rosa was carved into a green and blue plaque over the front door. The bell of the small flower shop jingled, signaling another customer coming in. Luigi Mariano, the owner, stood from behind the counter where he'd been kneeling, blue jean overalls slightly dirty at the knees. His blue eyes sparkled brightly as he saw who had come in.

"Mario, mio fratello!" Luigi smiled brightly as he moved around the counter to greet his older yet shorter twin brother.

In terms of appearance Mario had the same blue eyes as Luigi, his mustache was a little more styled than his brother's. Clothing wise however they were on the complete opposite of the spectrum. Mario was sporting a red three piece Italian pinstripe suit, which only made sense since he was the boss of the Mariano family mafia. Despite his lifestyle Mario always made time to visit his little brother. While Luigi was spared the life of a mafia leader or at least second, their father had made sure he still got into 'real man's work' and had him drafted into the military, special forces to be exact.

Mario had been furious and wanted to get his little brother out, unfortunately before Mario could get to him Luigi had finished his basic training and was shipped out. By some miracle, Luigi had survived the first world war and made it home. To Mario's shock, he was still the same sweet, slightly skittish man he'd been when he left. Even so Mario made sure his baby brother wouldn't be involved in anything violent ever again. Now head of the family Mario had a protective order put on Luigi and his shop.

"Lu, how's business?" Mario asked warmly as he embraced his brother, not at all bothered by the dirt getting on his thousand dollar clothes. "Must be good since its spring time."

"Its going well, everyones getting ready for mass and Easter sunday." Luigi nodded pulling away. "What are you up to?"

"Just a routine drive around. DK's wanting to meet up later for drinks so I figured best get work out of the way." Mario stated. "Heard rumors there's been a few koopas running around the area."

"Only the few civilians that don't live in Bowser's territory. Not all koopas work for him you know." Luigi shook his head. While he's heard stories of the terrifying dragon turtle hybrid he'd never seen the man. Not that he wanted to, if even some of what he'd been told was true. "I know I'm beating a dead horse but please try not to get caught by the police in a speakeasy or start any fights?"

"Hey, I don't always start those fights and I've never been caught." Mario huffed, crossing his arms. Luigi couldn't help but giggle, even as a mafia leader his brother still acted like a child sometimes. It was good to see Mario still had his heart even with what he does for a living. "Oh by the way, Peach wants to meet up this weekend with us and the other girls. Daisy's gonna be there." At Mario's eyebrow wiggle Luigi just rolled his eyes, his brother knew his preference lay with his own gender. Didn't mean Mario wouldn't tease him relentlessly.

"Still, please try to stay out of trouble. I really don't need your men dragging your tail in here like they did two months ago." Luigi stated.

"Hey, that was not my fault. DK said that area was legit, how was I supposed to know it had already been overtaken by those koopa creeps?" Mario defended. Luigi just shook his head as he pulled his older brother back into a hug.

"Go handle your business, I got orders to fill." Luigi smiled at him as they pulled apart.

"You sure you don't want me to leave a couple men here for you? I'm sure they'd be willing to help out." Mario offered. Luigi shook his head no.

"No, Fratello, you need all the help you can get to keep you out of trouble." Luigi smiled. "Now go on."

Mario always hated leaving his little brother alone since he came home from the war. Not that Luigi couldn't handle himself, the skinnier Mariano brother was a gentle soul and prefered talking to fighting. He would rather himself get hurt than someone else. And the last time he left Luigi alone he'd been shipped out.

Mario sighed as he nodded. "Alright, bro. I've been hearing some of King Boo's men and more of Bowser's have been spotted roaming our streets at night. So don't go out unless absolutely necessary, and even then call me so I can send someone to be with you."

"Mario, I'm not a little boy anymore you know." Luigi rolled his eyes.

"No but you are a mafia boss's brother. A dopo, fratellino." Mario walked toward the door where his men waited outside for him. As the door closed he looked down at the toad with blue spots, "Mikey, you stay close to this shop. If Lu leaves you, follow him, capiche?"

"Comprendo, Boss." Mikey nodded with a salute to his mushroom cap.

"And for God's sake stay out of sight this time." Mario ordered as he approached the car waiting for him. Mikey saluted again as he hurried away from the shop front toward a good vantage point.

All the men under Mario 'The Plumber' Mariano learned one particular rule upon their initiation: No one touched Luigi Mariano. Any who broke the rule, gang member or rival member learned very quickly what Mario's wrath felt like.

#bowuigi #luigi #story

[lovedreamer11]

Aemond vs. Baela, Rhaena, Jace, and Luke or Aemond vs. Jace, Luke, and Joffrey

Let's look at how the show changed one of the fateful conflicts before the dance. I'm talking now about how Lucerys mutilated his uncle Aemond.

Let's start with the fact that the events took place on Dragonstone, not Driftmark. Viserys came to Laenor's funeral with his wife and children. But he also had another goal. At that moment, Aemond was the only one of Viserys' children who did not have a dragon, and Viserys hoped that his son would take the opportunity to tame one of the young dragons. As you can see, unlike the show, where Viserys didn't care at all about his green children. No one mocked Aemond for not having a dragon. Not a single source mentions this.

The boy wanted to prove to his father and everyone around him what he was worth and to tame the oldest dragon.

Dragons are dangerous creatures and sometimes unpredictable. You can’t just walk up and tame an old dragon that has recently lost its rider. Everyone remembers what happened to Aerea Targaryen when she mounted Balerion.

Next comes the main difference between the show and the book. Even before flying on Vhagar, the boy was met by three-year-old Joffrey, who told his uncle to stay away from Vhagar. Aemond pushed his nephew and flew away. This is what started the fight in the book. In the series, the fight began after Aemond began to insult his cousins, whom he had never even met before at their mother's funeral.

I spent my entire childhood with my cousin, with whom I have a small age difference. Sometimes one wrong look was enough for us to start a fight, what can we say about a group of boys who were not very friendly with each other anyway.

Let's discuss the balance of power. In the show the fight was four against one. Aemond, Jace and Baela were almost the same age, and Rhaena was also older than her book counterpart. The fight was absolutely not in Aemond's favor. In the book the fight was three against one. Aemond was ten, Jace six, Luke five, Joffrey three. I think the difference is already visible. Initially, the boys were not even able to land a strong blow on their uncle. The book says that Aemond fought back well, his nephews crawled away from him, scared, beaten and bloodied. In the series, Aemond received a lot of blows from girls and boys.

In both the book and the show, Aemond began calling boys bastards. But there is a difference in the way he said it. Show Aemond was angry and in the heat of a fight, he wanted to verbally hurt his nephews. Book Aemond mocked and laughed at the boys, he felt superior to them and wanted to emphasize this again.

In both cases, Jace became angry and pulled out a knife, but was disarmed by his uncle. And here's another difference. Show Aemond raised a stone over Jace's head, but did not hit him, and fans are still debating whether Aemond would have dealt the killing blow or not. The book Aemond began to brutally (the word "brutally" was used in the my book, English is not my native language, so there may be inconsistencies with the original) beat Jace. And it didn't look like he was going to stop. He could actually beat his nephew to death, or, if Aemond was beat him his legs, he could actually gouge Jace's eye out if he accidentally hit him in the head. Book Luke justifiably defended his older brother. Who knows how it would have ended.

Let's summarize. Thank you, HBO, you've ruined everything once again.

#anti team green #book vs show #many problems could have been avoided if Vhagar had simply thrown Aemond off of her in flight #team black #asoiaf #anti hotd #fire and blood

[watch-that-writer-burnnn]

Be gentle with me

Pairing: Jaskier x reader

Prompt: "I need you to wake up because I can't do this without you"

Summary: reader wakes up beside an unconscious Jaskier after the pair are attacked. Angst, followed by fluff.

Warnings: angst, unconscious/injured Jaskier and reader, some blood, prelude to smut

Words: 930

A/n: I'm highly sleep deprived and don't even know what I'm writing anymore. Hope you enjoy! Please feel free to let me know if I've made any mistakes in the warnings.

Your vision swam as you opened your eyes, waking from unconsciousness. You blinked slowly as your head rolled limply on your shoulders, confusion creasing your brow. Where were you? Captured and held prisoner, or left somewhere to succumb to your injuries?

The room - or, rather, the shallow cave - around you gradually came into focus, and thoughts flooded back to you. The ambush, a fight, the bard...

"Shit! Jaskier!" you yelled, the memory of his bloodstained face crashing into your mind as you threw your head back, crying out in pain as it connected with the cold rock wall behind you. Your groan of agony twisted into a gasp, as you noticed the nearby form of the bard lying unmoving on the rough stone floor, his back to you.

You did your best to crawl towards him, whimpering as you fought to ignore the agonising throb of pain in the side of your head.

Reaching his side, you ran your hands through his soft brown hair, scared to turn him over and examine the extent of his injuries. This was all your fault.

"Jaskier... Jaskier... Jask!"

Your patience eroded as the bard gave no response, and panic began to clench your throat.

"Oh gods, Jask... Please... Wake up!"

You grasped his shoulder, gently shaking him. Still no response.

Choking back a sob, you struggled to flip your friend onto his back. This was tricky in your weakened state, and he was heavier than he looked.

You cried out softly at the sight of his usually pretty face beaten and bloody.

Fluffy fringe matted with a dark liquid, one cheek swollen and bruised, soft lips cut and dripping with blood...

You swallowed, forcing yourself to do what you'd been avoiding - you lowered your head to his side, eyes level with his chest and watching carefully for any sign of movement.

It seemed like an eternity before you finally spotted the barely perceptible rise and fall of his chest, visible through the low cut of his undershirt - his doublet must have been stripped away by your captors. You too were left only in your undershirt and pants - robbed and left to die, with no weapons and no sign of Jaskier's lute. He would be devastated when he woke up, you thought, eyes skimming across his battered yet strangely peaceful face. You reached down, tracing first his cheekbones, then lips with a shaking finger.

"Jaskier... Wake up, Jask. Can you hear me?"

You sobbed in defeat, burying your face in his chest, tears seeping into the soft hair there.

"Jaskier. Please. I need you to wake up. I need you to wake up because I can't... I can't do this without you!" you yelled, helplessly slamming your fists into the ground.

You slumped over his prone body and the tears continued to flow, fueled by the guilt of your failure to protect your helpless bard. You slipped a hand into his own, gently squeezing his cold, limp fingers.

A small groan shook you from your dark thoughts. Your head shot up and your hands rushed to either side of his face.

"Jaskier!"

"Hey..." he strained to form the words, grimacing in pain as he did so.

His mesmerising blue eyes began to scan your tear streaked face, his expression brimming with worry as he asked, "Are you alright?"

"Am- am I alright?" you couldn't help but laugh.

"My sweet bard, if only you could see yourself right now- and you still think to ask if I'm alright?"

Jaskier didn't respond, instead attempting to sit up. You slipped a hand around his waist and one behind his neck to help support him, his pained whimpers making you flinch.

You sat facing each other now, his warm breath tickling your face, and you noticed Jaskier's gaze flick to your lips. You couldn't help but let your eyes drop to his mouth, and before you knew what you were doing, you'd pulled him closer, lips tingling as they brushed his own. Jaskier seized his chance, dragging you in for a passionate kiss, his warm lips working against your own, leaving a slight taste of iron from the cut on his lip. You deepened the kiss, shuddering as he pulled you into his lap, allowing you to wrap your legs around his waist. You moaned into his mouth as he ran his fingers down your back, leaving a trail of warmth in their wake and causing you to arc your body against him. Jaskier moaned, hungrily engulfing your lips with his own and shuddering with the pleasure of your touch as you began to grind your hips into his.

Gods, you'd both wanted this for so long.

What you first took to be a pleasured whimper from the bard, as you ran your hands up his shirt to massage his back, quickly turned to one of pain. You pulled back, remembering his injuries, and mentally kicked yourself for being so selfish.

"Oh, Jaskier I... I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have done that. Are you alright?"

To your surprise, the bard flashed you a grin, before pulling you in for a kiss.

"Much better now."

You smiled into his mouth as he hummed contentedly against your lips. Before either of you had the chance to lose yourself in the other, Jaskier pulled back, stroking your hair and neck and making you shiver.

"Just one thing, love... If we are going to do this, just... Be gentle with me, would you?"

You pressed a soft kiss to his forehead.

"Of course," you mumbled against his skin, heart pounding. Despite your injuries, you couldn't help but feel a little glad the two of you had been left alone together.

#jaskier #jaskier x reader #jaskier imagine #the witcher #reader x jaskier #the witcher imagine #jaskier x y/n #jaskier x gn!reader #jaskier x you #y/n x jaskier #dandelion x y/n #dandelion x reader #y/n x dandelion #jaskier whump #jaskier smut #jaskier x reader smut #geralt #the witcher fanfiction #witcher fanfiction #jaskier fanfiction #dandelion #julian alfred pankratz #reader x geralt #jaskier fic #the witcher fic #witcher fic #geralt fic #jaskier pankratz #jaskier dandelion

[holden-caulfield]

𝐇𝐀𝐁𝐈𝐓𝐒

━ 𝐌𝐀𝐈𝐍 𝐌.𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 - 𝐉.𝐓. 𝐌.𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

━ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: reader gets kidnapped because of her bond with the red hood, and jason thinks it's his fault: reader will help him understand he can't carry every burden alone. (this can be read as a part two to "LATER")

━ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: jason todd x nurse!reader

━ 𝐑𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐃: yes

━ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: kidnapping, guns, general vigilante stuff y'know?

━ 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 3015

━ 𝐀/𝐍: this took so long to write and so long to edit, and it came out way too lengthy, but i hope you like it because i kinda do :)

He entered from the window, as he always did. It had become a habit, and even though he now had the keys to your apartment he couldn't bring himself to abandon old habits.

There was just something about it: you always left the window opened for him and that was enough for him to keep on entering from there. In a stupid, silly way, that was what had tied you: one fateful night, your window being the only one open, he crawled inside, all red and bloody and beaten up.

You were sure the other guys looked worse but he was the one to enter your window. It was an accident, he'd told you, he'd picked the wrong window, but you insisted. You wouldn't have let him walk ━ stumble ━ away without medical attention.

But tonight was different: he crawled into the opening, discarding his helmet right on the floor, followed by his jacket, slowly forgotten and hung on the back of the couch. He wasn't injured, the night had been kind to him, and yet he was in your apartment; another habit, he thought. His own apartment looked unwelcoming now that he had gotten to know yours; cold now that he had witnessed your warmth.

He quite liked these new habits he was developing, or perhaps he just liked you. Since you had declared your feelings for each other, everything had become easier. Jason wasn't well-accustomed to 'easy' but he thought he could get used to it, if you were there beside him.

But you weren't there, not at the moment. He peeped into every room, calling your name several times before confirming the apartment was empty. Now that was unusual: you never went out so late in the night unless your job needed you to, but you left a note, a message, anything.

He returned to the kitchen, ready to change and go ask the neighbors if they knew where you had gone when he saw it. An ominous little box, sitting on the countertop, white ribbon keeping it closed.

He approached it carefully: he hadn't noticed it before, too focused on searching for you, but now it had all his attention. He opened the lid, slowly; he had the terrible feeling that that box wasn't just a gift for him from you.

Inside, he found a piece of paper, he recognized your handwriting. He would have smiled, hadn't it been for the message you had apparently left him: '12pm. the docks. i'll be waiting for you.'

It didn't sit right with him, it sounded wrong; everything about this apparent gift made him uneasy.

He checked the clock, almost midnight. He didn't waste a minute, putting his jacket back on, helmet tightly secured on his head, and ran out again.

The more time passed, the more the clock ticked in his ears, the more he convinced himself something had happened. If it had been just a simple surprise, why so late at night? Why the docks? It didn't make sense and it made Jason more and more worried.

He ran until he stopped, immobile in the middle of the dock. It was deserted at night, but he frantically looked around, hoping to get just a glimpse of you. The night was pitch dark, just a couple street lamps marking the silhouette of the buildings, of the ships, of the road. But no sign of you.

He had put you in this mess, he hadn't been careful. Every night making his way back to your apartment and his only worry were the neighbors. He should have never brought you into his world, into his life. And now you were paying the consequences.

He started calling your name, breaking the eerie silence of the night air, turning left and right, begging to find you smiling, waiting for him. To tell him it was all a big joke, a big surprise for him.

"Red Hood, i'm glad you came, i thought our little message hadn't worked." Came a voice from somewhere behind him, in the darkness.

Everything was still, silent, but then a figure started approaching him; heavy steps marched slowly in contrast with his pounding heart, threatening to jump out of his chest at any moment.

A suited man came in sight, tall and elegant, advancing with his hands behind his back. His face was completely covered, unrecognizable if it hadn't been for the Black Mask he was wearing; a feared symbol in all of Gotham. Feared by all, but not Jason.

But now his heart was beating too fast, his legs growing too weak. He was scared, terrified. Instead of your lovely face, he was staring right at Roman Sionis. He didn't look intimidated, and Jason did his best not to look so petrified, but it was difficult. It was all his fault.

More foot steps joined the previous ones, figures emerging from the darkness all around him, guns trained on him.

"Hi Roman," he managed to say. "So long."

Roman scoffed. "I wanted it to remain that way but that little stunt you played last week? You couldn't possibly think that it would have gone unpunished, could you?"

Jason had done a lot of things last week, beaten up a lot of guys, but he remembered quite clearly smiling as he took down one of Sionis' bases.

"You know i love attention, Roman," he said, as still and as calm as possible. He grounded himself, he couldn't do anything rushed. "I thought you might appreciate the effort."

"I did, that's why i wanted to do something for you too," he said, motioning with his head to one of his thugs; he disappeared in the darkness. "Noticed anything missing, perhaps?"

Jason thanked his helmet for not showing his true emotions, for not showing how he had clenched his jaw, a scowl painted on his face.

"Actually yes," said Jason, taking a few steps forward. The guns were still aimed on him, the muzzles following him like a prey. "And i would like her back."

Roman chuckled, a dark mirthless sound. "I would like my men back, my money back." He said, advancing just a little more. Jason's knuckles itched to punch his masked face, to make him feel as much pain as he could manage, to kill him right then and there for even considering kidnapping you. But he remained still, unfazed. "Not everyone gets what they want."

"Still sore about it? I say we get over it," Jason knew he was testing him, but it was the only way to keep him talking, to make him angry, to hopefully get you out. "We'll forget it all in front of a couple of drinks."

Roman slapped him right across the face; Jason didn't move a muscle, taking the hit.

Everything was still for a moment.

"I guess no drinks, then." His gun was out in the blink of an eye and trained right under Roman's chin, pushing into the flesh as Jason's other hand was keeping him fixed on the spot.

The clicking of the guns' hammers around him made it clear he had everyone's attention; good. He had to see you, he had to see you were okay.

"Do you forget i have her?" Seethed Sionis, trying to break free from Jason's hold, but it was impossible.

"I don't see her here, are you sure you have her?" Teased Jason. "I'm starting to believe you're telling me a lot of lies, Roman, and i don't like lies. I thought that after all we've been through together you'd remember."

He simply laughed, and so Jason pushed the gun deeper into his neck, making his laughter turn into a fit of coughs. "Put the gun down, so we can talk civilly, wouldn't you?"

"Not until i see her, do you not listen to me when i speak?"

Roman raised one hand, and his thugs backed away only to return a couple of moments later with you in their grasp.

Your mouth was covered in tape and your hands tied in front of you, but you didn't look harmed. Jason heaved a sigh of relief the moment he laid his eyes on you: you looked confused, angry, and maybe just a little bit terrified.

He had done that. It was his fault.

He slowly lowered the gun, setting his eyes back on Black Mask. He needed to act quickly if he wanted to save you, but he needed to have a good plan, one that involved the both of you getting out of there alive.

"There, was it that hard?" Asked Roman, that mocking tone still in his voice, as if he had already won, as if he had the upper hand. "Now give me the gun."

He eyed his surroundings, analyzing. He had no time, he had to act now before it was too late. He risked one look at you, before raising his gun.

Roman extended his arm but Jason did not give up the weapon; he pointed it at you. As still and as cold as the night itself, he was pointing the gun right at you.

Everyone looked at him, confused, the hold on their guns unsure. Roman's eyes went wide at the sight: his hostage being directly targeted by the Red Hood himself.

The helmet let no emotion through, and yet you knew. He wasn't going to harm you; he had a plan. A good one, you hoped, but nevertheless it was a plan.

"You know, Roman? Maybe you should have accepted the drink earlier," said Jason, index finger moving to lay on the trigger, waiting, getting ready. "Because i think you won't have the chance to get one ever again."

In the briefest of moments, everything happened: you raised your hands, high above your head, letting Jason's first bullet free you from your bindings, cutting right through them.

The second one was quickly shot right after the first, into your kidnapper's skull, one single line of red marking the front of his face.

The third, fourth and fifth were in rapid succession: one after the other, they all hit the street lamps illuminating the scene. Glass broke and darkness fell on the dock.

The rest of the bullets were not only Jason's. Everyone started shooting, people started running away, frantically looking for safety in the darkness. But Jason's hits were easily recognizable: every time one of them was fired, a body fell heavily on the ground, no chance of getting back up.

You couldn't see anything, so you just ran. Hopefully somewhere safe, hopefully not right into a stray bullet.

Your feet were running on their own, your mind desperately hoping Jason was okay, desperately hoping that helmet of his had night vision, desperately hoping you would have run right into his arms.

You didn't: your foot got trapped into something, you couldn't tell what in the pitch black around you. You fell to the ground and the gunshots ceased.

Everything was still again, as still as it was when you were tied up. You got up on your feet quickly, slowly backing away from the massacre.

Or so you hoped.

Someone grabbed your arm, the hold tight and yet reassuring. It was the same hold you woke up to in the morning, holding gently onto your waist. The same hold that begged you to stay a moment longer as you hurried off to work. The same hold that hugged you back after the night had been a little too cruel, a little too hard.

You wasted no moment and enveloped him in a hug, stopping him from whatever he was going to say. He just hugged you back, that same hold you had grown so used to, so attached to, getting tighter and tighter, until it faded.

He grasped your hand and led you away, towards the faint light that was slowly glowing brighter and brighter as you walked further into the city.

As he came into the light, you noticed the blood shining on his clothes; you let your hands run quickly over the stains, assessing the wounds. You heaved a sigh of relief knowing it wasn't his blood for once.

He gently swatted your hands away, grasping your face in his gloved hands. He held you as if you were an illusion, a dream about to finish and bring him back to reality.

"Are you okay, Y/n?" He managed to say.

You simply smiled at him, taking his hands in yours and bringing them down. "Yes, thanks to you."

You smiled warmly, hoping to comfort him, but even with his helmet on, even so late at night, you could see his look; his eyes, his nose, his lips, contorted in a frown, blaming himself over and over again.

"Thanks to me, you could have died." He said instead, forcing his hands to leave yours.

You didn't let him, bringing him closer to you. "But i didn't, Jason. I'm right here, with you, thanks to you."

You slowly removed his helmet, leaving him in his diamond mask. You were right, he looked just like you imagined, just like you knew.

Your fingers traced the edge of his jaw, cupping his cheek, bringing him closer to your lips, but he drew away.

"I shouldn't have let you-" but you didn't let him finish, raising his chin again to kiss him. Small, soft, barely there. You didn't want to overstep his boundaries, you just wanted to soothe him, to comfort him, to make him feel the way he always made you feel; safe, even when in the hands of mob bosses.

You had never felt the way you felt with Jason. You had grown so used to him, to his attitude, to his sarcasm, to his ways. Waiting for him to come home at night, waking up to his warm embrace in the morning, watching as he cooked for you; habits you wouldn't have exchanged for anything in the world. Habits that were worthy all the waiting at night, hoping for the best and expecting the worst. Habits that were worthy a couple of kidnappings if it meant he would have saved you every single time, if it meant you would have found yourself in his arms every night.

"We should go home now." You whispered, rubbing the back of his hands.

His eyes went down to where your hands were intertwined and a crease formed between his eyebrows. "You're hurt."

You looked down too only to notice the red and blue hues forming on your wrist, were the rope was tied, were the bullet went through. It didn't hurt, and you hadn't really thought about it; it was just a stinging feeling, one you didn't pay too much attention to.

But Jason did, grasping your forearms gently to examine your skin better under the pale light of the streetlights.

"It's nothing."

"It isn't nothing."

"It is."

"It is not." He stated, piercing you with his gaze.

You knew there was no use arguing anymore, but maybe you could have used it to your advantage. "Then we should get home to make sure, shouldn't we?"

He shook his head, letting out a brief chuckle and looking back down at your hands. He didn't answer, so you began leading him back to your apartment.

"Is this okay? Does it hurt?" He asked for what seemed like the billionth time as he carefully cleaned the area of the abrasion.

"Yes," you reassured once more, smiling at him like one would to a baby. "You're doing just great. I have to be careful or you'll steal my job."

"Nurse Todd sounds good, doesn't it?"

Your smile grew wider knowing your insufferable witty Jason was back. "It does, if you become a nurse i'll take your job. I'd make a pretty intimidating vigilante, wouldn't i?"

"Oh yes, try smiling like that to the bad guys and they'll all run away terrified." He retorted, not daring meet your eyes.

When silence settled back, he decided to break it again, stilling his movements on your wrists. "I think we should stop this."

"I think so too, it's clean enough and it's late, we should go to bed."

He held onto your forearms as you tried to get up. "No, i meant this. Us."

"What are you talking about, Jay?"

He finally looked up to you, face unreadable, like a marble statue. "You could have died tonight because of me. I can't let that happen."

"So you want to end things?" You asked, incredulous. "Then how are you going to save me if you don't know where i am, what i'm doing?"

"That's the point," he said, caressing the side of your face, softly stroking your cheek as if it was the last time he could have ever done that. Another habit you had let him develop, whenever he was stressed, whenever you needed comfort; a single touch was all it took. "You shouldn't need saving, Y/n."

"But you do." You said, matter-of-factly. "You need saving, every night, every day. If i don't help you, who will?"

"You just said i'd make a great nurse," he tried joking, a smirk drawn on his lips.

"But not the best," you retorted again, inching closer to him, almost brushing your nose with his. "I am the best."

"Y/n, i can't-"

"No, you can, you have to!" You interrupted him. "We need each other, let me help you, Jason."

"I could never live knowing i got your hurt, Y/n, don't you understand?"

"And neither could i." You stated, feeling tears prickling the corner of your eyes. "I need you to let me close to you, i need to know you're okay, i need you, Jason."

He didn't speak, weighing your words, so you decided to keep going. "And you need me. Even if you are way too stubborn to admit it."

He chuckled again, bandaging your wrists, just a little too tight. But you wouldn't have told him. "Do i?"

"Oh yes, you do. I lied before, you know?" You said, feigning complete innocence. "You'd be a terrible nurse."

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#jason todd #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x you #jason todd x nurse!reader #jason todd x reader #red hood #fanfiction #fanfic #dc comics #batman #robin #red hood x you #red hood x y/n #red hood x reader

[meshlasolus]

House Of Memories (52/?)

Obi-Wan Kenobi x Padawan!reader

Warnings: ouch this ones angsty

Summary: They haven’t bothered you for years, but now they are back, and they are back with a vengeance.

A/n: okay this is the transition into the events of episode 3 (and some background of what happened before that)

also y'all if you like the story, maybe consider buying me a coffee :)

Words: 1.8k

It was still dark, and you couldn’t see anything, but the hands that grabbed at you were not familiar. You branched out with the force, trying to gain any knowledge of who was taking you. You screamed out for help, unable to control your powers enough to face them down. Were you weakened? It didn’t make any sense. You were quite powerful and could usually take down an enemy, despite them having a size advantage. This time it was harder to focus on one thing at a time, because the darkness soon faded. You were brought into an execution room, with torture devices lining the walls and floors. There were creatures you’d never seen before, chanting the words of death in several languages. You weren’t sure how you even recognized some of the words, but you did. Your blood boiled thick when the face of your captor was revealed. It was not human, nor droid, but a robotic mix of the two, with limbs twice as long as yours, standing as tall as a mudhorn but with all the lankiness of a skeleton. You’d heard stories about General Grievous, the tormentor amongst captured Jedi. The one who collected lightsabers from those he’d struck down. You weren’t afraid of him, yet. You couldn’t even say why, you just looked at him with a glare, hoping that you could be the one to destroy him. 

He brought you to the center of the room, shoving you away from him, and staring you down. 

“You are no Jedi. You,” he used his sharp metal finger to point at you with a crooked tilt of his mechanical head, “are a pretender.”

“And you are a coward, hiding behind an army of droids because you know you can’t win on your own accord.” 

Your mind was clear, as you took your saber from your hip, igniting it to show its green glow against the otherwise dark room. 

Grievous laughed maniacally, and so did the creatures in the room with him. Your lightsaber was pulled from your hands, and you were unable to stop it. Why were you so weak? Why couldn’t you remember your training? 

“Your master has failed you.” 

That was the last straw, for all the things you could take, slander against your master was not one of them. You would defend his honor with your life. Selfishly, if you had to. 

“And you are about to fail him.”

You froze in place. Unable to move a single muscle or even blink an eye. You were held in place and made to look at the new scene in front of you. Obi-Wan was restrained against a wall, already beaten and bloody. Your heart sank, and you tried to reach for him, but you were still frozen to your spot. The creatures that surrounded you continued to assault him, left and right poking and prodding different devices that had him crying out in pain. He couldn’t even hold himself up, the only thing giving him any structure being his restraints. 

“Stop this!” you somehow yelled out, gaining the attention of Grievous, while his monsters continued to have their way with Obi-Wan. “If it is life you want, you will take mine before I let you take his.”

Another laugh of horrific proportions sounded in your ears, his tone of voice was so irritating, and made your skin crawl. 

“You have failed.”

Grievous turned back to your master, barely alive as he was, and ignited your lightsaber, before running him through with it. You watched his body go completely limp in the restraints, pulling on the wall as he hung there with nothing left. His blood ran over the floors, seeping under your feet, and you cried out, screaming into the void that soon surrounded you. You were left alone soon enough, breaking free from the trance that held you in place. You sank to your knees beside Obi-Wan, using the force to break the restraints. He fell into your arms, his body broken, and lifeless. You held him close to you, hoping and praying that he wasn’t dead, that this wasn’t real. You wanted nothing more than for him to hold you instead, to tell you that you hadn’t failed him, and that you never would. You tried to wake him, thinking perhaps he might still have some life left in him, and leaned down to kiss his bleeding lips to bring him back to you. Alas, it did not work, and you were left to sob over the body of your Master, and lover. Your tears were everywhere, mixed in with the shedding of his blood on your hands. You’d remembered a scene quite similar to that of this, when he faked his death and led you and Anakin to believe he was gone forever. That felt just as permanent, but this felt worse, because this was you fault. His blood on your hands.

You couldn’t bear it. You screamed out his name to the cosmic force around you, not able to feel his presence the way you always had before. You were connected to each other, mind and soul, a dyad in the force unlike anything ever seen in generations. You could feel his pain, feel his emptiness as his soul became one with the air around you, and you were left alone, with only the worst half of yourself left.

All of a sudden, you could hear his voice, and it was calling you by name. 

“Obi?” Your lips trembled, and you wondered how you heard his voice, though there was no ounce of living spirit in his body anymore.

“Wake up my love, please.”

You sat up in a cold sweat, tears rolling down your face, and your breathing was erratic. Obi-Wan looked scared out of his wits, sitting up next to you, and bringing you close to his chest. You were so convinced that they were gone, the nightmares. You had been hopeful that they would never return, but they did, and you could not control yourself from thinking it meant something horrible.

You were still crying uncontrollably, leaning into his chest for comfort as he soothed you, combing through your hair to try and calm your nerves that had you shaking like a leaf that was about to fall from a tree.

“I’ve got you, you’re safe. I promise,” he whispered, leaving kisses over your face to try and help you. You were trying to breath, trying to slow your erratic intake and stop the sobs. You were usually much easier able to control yourself, but it had been a long time since the nightmares plagued you, and you forgot how real they seemed.

“It’s back,” you said, trying to sniffle the rest of your tears away and calm yourself by connecting with his signature. He grabbed hold of yours right back, letting them tangle together. You began breathing in a steady rhythm now, and as he’d come to learn a while ago, you were meditating on him. Rather unconventional, and he never thought it possible to use a romantic connection to meditate on, but whenever you did it, he felt utterly overwhelmed. Just knowing that he was your sense of safety and security meant the worlds to him.

“What’s back, little one?” He pulled you slowly to arms distance, and held your hands gently, rubbing his thumbs over the backs of each one.

“The nightmare, the one where you die,” you couldn’t look him in the eyes as you said the next part, in fears that it could actually mean something. “And it’s my fault.”

His brows furrowed and his heart felt heavy at your words. Did you really believe this? That you could ever be the reason he had died? He knew that when you thought he was dead the first time, you felt a sense of blame for what happened to him, but upon discussing it with you, it was able to be worked through, and eventually forgotten. Until now, it seemed.

“It was just a dream,” he shook his head, leaning it into yours and resting it thee with eyes closed. You weren’t so easily swayed by his words, and backed away from him.

“It’s not, it can’t be…. There’s something I never told you,” you began, looking to him to see if perhaps he had anything else to say, but his waiting stare just faced back at you, lit dimly, but still seen that he was ever so invested in what you would say. “I never told you that the one who kills you is General Grievous.”

His face went stark white at this, and his pale expression worried you. Did this mean you were having a vision rather than a dream? A prediction of what was to come? Your bottom lip was trembling again when he didn’t say anything, and he couldn’t and to let that go on any longer, no matter how much this was to process for him.

“You don’t need to worry, my love, it doesn’t mean anything. It is only the dark side trying to overtake your mind, you must resist it.”

He pulled you close o him again, and you began to feel safer than you had before.

Being back on Coruscant the last several weeks was a good return to normal, but now this horrible nightmare was ruining the beautiful transition, and making it an anxious and emotional one.

“I won’t let you die, Obi,” you clung to him like a wet blanket, breathing him in and letting him out and repeating the process until you were able to feel calm again. “I promise you.”

His shock rested in many things, being that of the name you had only now given him. A while ago, about the same time your nightmares started, he’d been having one similar, one where you were kept away from him, and he could not save you. One where the enemy used his own lightsaber to kill you, the same way his Master before him was killed. The killer in his nightmares was General Grievous.

“Nothing is going to happen to me,” he said firmly, and you almost believed him if just for the tone of his voice, so assured of himself.

“I won’t let it,” you repeated, it becoming an oath off your lips. You would stand between hell and high water before you’d let it touch him. Your Obi, the dearest thing to you, your attachment.

You were able to calm yourself down a bit and finally laid back down, pulling him down with you and arranging your bodies so you were as close to each other as physically possible.

He became worried about this new obstacle, and what it could possibly mean for you should the trials happen soon. You were ready, but the dark side was still lurking in you and needing any outlet it could find to prevent you from becoming a Jedi Knight. He didn’t want that to happen, but he had become curious after your confession. He too had these dreams of losing you to Grievous, he was just better at hiding it. Over the years as they faded away, he hoped that maybe it was just his fears plaguing his sleep with restless notions that he may lose you. Now, he was uncertain.

-

Kenobi tags:

@spencerrxids @sawendel @fandomstanner24 @i-shall-abide @officialjellydoughnut @whatshxrname @darkened-writer @superavengerpotter @cutiepoo16 @hypnoash @softlymellow @howlerwolfmax @mephistominion @honestlywtfisgoingon @anakinskywalkerog @mandiiellen @je--a-n @guyinachair27 @avenger5-a55emble @amelia-song-pond @kaminanii @the-abyss-of-fandoms @queenofnightdreamland @world-dominating-kitty @mandowhatnow @ella-error505 @annahalo @infinity-witch @beetlejuice-stuff @liueski @solarbxby @sirianisrock @lxdyred @endless-warrior-always-fighter @iloveinej @msjb2002 @shoochi @itsilvermorny @gingerrosecosplay @sebschicken @loversjoy @argentinemango @1-800-vader @house-of-kolchek @marierg @graciexmarvel @ttzamara @truly-madly-nerdy @molieux @majahu @dyzlks @pancakefancake

#obi wan kenobi #obi wan series #obi wan x reader #obi wan kenobi x reader #obi wan x padawan #ewan mcgregor

[theshelbyclan]

Partners in Crime

Summary: Against Polly’s advice, Tommy decides the only way to deal with Teddy is to involve her in the business to some degree (part 10)

(gif by @retromafia​)

A/N: After the last fluffy chapter, I couldn’t really go back to Teddy being kept out of the loop forever. Besides, I think we all know that eventually Teddy will be the one who will take of the business XD Also, there’s a lot of tea in this chapter, maybe my cravings are becoming a bit too apparent… Either way, a lot is happening in the episode, so another tumultuous one. Let me know what you think! Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 / Part 8 / Part 9 / Part 10 Words: 4168 ***

Every morning at 5 AM, the milk man did his rounds, even in Small Heath. Many people couldn’t afford it, but for those that could, he went passed the houses and delivered directly from the milk cans. Oftentimes, kids hung around him, trying to earn a penny by helping him carry the heavy cans. Sometimes, he indulged them. Even during the war, the milk round remained on of the few aspects of normal life that continued on. Teddy used to run after him ever since she’d learned of his existence, because in those years, when people had too much on their minds, no one noticed a five-year-old little girl. But Teddy wasn’t after a job for the day; she used to try and steal a bottle from the back of the cart, often succeeding as well. 

Now the Shelby’s were richer and more powerful, so there was no longer any need to steal milk. But old habits die hard, which was why Teddy proudly came walking into the kitchen with a bottle of milk. John grinned broadly at her and pulled her onto his lap. “Just what I needed,” he said, “Only bloody barbarians drink their tea without milk, right?”

“John?” Teddy asked, “Where’s Arthur? Is he with dad?” “Don’t call him ‘dad’,” John’s face fell, “He’s not your dad, alright? He left mum even before you were born and hasn’t come back since. We needed him then and he fucking left us.” Teddy had about a million questions, but she sensed that John didn’t like to talk about it. Of course, Teddy had always known her father was a bad man and after meeting him, all of her suspicions were confirmed. Still, he was her father and his absence had left something aching inside of her. She’d never known her mother either, she’d died weeks after her birth, but she knew of her. This all meant that Teddy Shelby was effectively an orphan, and as much as she loved her brothers and aunt, she could never be entirely whole.

“What was he like?” Teddy couldn’t contain herself. John sighed and eventually answered, “He beat the shit out of us, Teddy. Always gone, always drunk and when he was at home, his anger made the woodwork groan. Mum bore the brunt of it, Tommy sometimes tried to distract him, to spare her a little. Arthur looked up to him in a way, but he got beaten the most. Something about being the oldest. Dad always was fucking with his head.” “What about you and Ada?” “We became good at hiding,” John chewed his toothpick and squinted a little, “Ada used to crawl under the table and refused to come out until he’d been gone for over an hour. One time, I tried to get him off mum and he held my hand against the furnace until it started smoking,” John held us his hand and for the first time, Teddy noticed the old scars, still visible. “He’s not a good man, Teddy.” “What’s this?” Aunt Polly demanded as she entered, “Why are you telling her about him?” “She asked, Aunt Polly.” Teddy bowed her head and tried to find a way to deal with all of these confliction emotions, but it wasn’t easy for the ten-year-old. Polly looked sternly at her and shortly said, “Forget about him. He’s my brother and I wouldn’t piss on him if he was on fire.”

“But I want a dad too!” Teddy suddenly called out, emotion exploding out. Polly leaned over the youngest Shelby, not in an intimidating manner, but just to make herself very clear, “You’ve got brothers, Teddy, and trust me, they’re a lot more fucking valuable than that sad excuse for a man.”

“We not good enough for you?” John joked. “Yeah, you are…” Teddy smiled up at him, not wanting to make him upset. Polly looked from John to Teddy and filled in the blanks out loud, “But it’s not the same.” “Did you get the milk?” she then asked, to try and distract them both. Proudly, Teddy held up the bottle. And John smiled again, deciding to let go of whatever memories his father had brought back, “Yeah, where would be without our Teddy-girl!” For a few more moments, Teddy and John played and laughed together in the kitchen. Then he pushed her off his lap again, saying he had more work to do, and telling her to go play. Happily, like she was any other child, Teddy skipped off and went outside. Back on the streets, she thought of things to do. She was no longer fighting with Tommy, which made her mind all the more lighter. So, meeting up with a few other kids, they decided to play spies, Teddy’s favourite game, and go to the Chinese laundry. Once inside, she and a few others played hide and seek, with the added thrill of possibly being chased out by the workers. Bathed in red light, Teddy hid in between the new suits and listened for the count. But instead, she heard her brother’s voice. Peering out, she saw that copper and Teddy forgot all about the other kids. “With these guns as bait, who knows what we’ll catch,” he said. Teddy immediately understood he was talking about the robbery, but why he was working with this copper, she couldn’t understand. Wasn’t he the enemy? Cynically, she heard Campbell say, “So, I’d be solving a problem for you.” And Tommy replied with, “And I’d be winning you that medal.” Campbell laughed, “If I get a medal, I would have your initials engraved on the backside” Teddy saw Tommy turn his head and he smiled cockily, “My initials on your backside. That’s quite an image.” This made Teddy snort, and she quickly covered her mouth with her hand at the sound. Tommy’s head flew in her direction, however, and he excused himself with Campbell, who then walked away. Tommy took two steps towards her and easily fished his youngest sister out of the clothing racks. “Look what I found,” he commented, lowering his voice. “Me,” Teddy replied, sheepishly. “You,” he repeated, “Teddy, what the hell are you doing here?” “Playing hide and seek?” “Well, you’re found. Come with me,” and Teddy had no choice but to follow him as he still had hold on the cuff of her blouse. But he didn’t seem too angry this time. On their way home, Teddy bombarded him with questions, “What did you want with that copper? Why did he say he’s solving a problem? What problem, Tommy? Are you giving him the guns? Why? Is he paying us? John told me you were at the Garrison, is that true? Did he tell you about the copper? Did you tell the copper about him? Why are we working with coppers now, Tommy? I thought, we don’t like coppers, right? Where are the guns now? Is this about the robbery?” Suddenly, Tommy halted and stopped Teddy in the middle of the street. He held up one finger and drilled holes into her with his eyes. Immediately, Teddy understood, and she lowered her voice, “The robbery’s not spoken of. Sorry, Tommy, I forgot. But…” “Nope!” he cut her off and continued walking, “No more questions!” “But I only have one or two questions!” she protested, sort of jogging after him and his long legs. “You had about twenty just now!” Teddy panted and tried to keep up with him, “But I only want to know…” “Everything!” her brother called out, “You only want to know everything, right? Not a single day goes by and there you are, asking me a million fucking questions, because you want to know about everything.” For a moment, Teddy was afraid he would get mad again, like he did before. But then he picked her up and carried her into the house with him. Together, they walked through the crowd of people at the betting shop and into the kitchen, where Tommy dumped her down onto the table and poured himself some whiskey. “Can I have some whiskey?” Teddy asked, “What does it taste like?” “Absolutely fucking not, it tastes like shit, Teddy.” But even Tommy didn’t think for a second she would believe him. So, he decided to try and distract her by giving her what she wanted, “Alright, go on, you can ask me a few questions.” Teddy sat up, beaming, and tried to think of the best question to ask first. So, she wanted to know, “Who did you meet at the Garrison?” Tommy sank down in a chair and lit a cigarette, resigned to be interrogated, “Who says I met anyone there?” “John said you went to the Garrison, so you told John you were going, but if you were only going there for that girl, you wouldn’t tell John. So, you went to meet with someone and then you talked to that copper and all of this started after you told me about the robbery, even though we’re not speaking of it, but after that thing we’re not speaking of, you were angry all the time and busy, so if you had time to go to the Garrison and meet someone, it was about the guns and that’s why you’re like this now.” Tommy coughed a short laugh, “I confess. I met someone at the Garrison.” “Who, Tommy?” “You know, you should really consider becoming a copper yourself, Teddy. You’d do great with unwilling suspects.” “Fuck coppers,” Teddy said quickly, “Tommy, I want to kno-ow,” she whined, “Who did you meet?” He blew away some smoke and not really sure why he was telling her this, he said, “Someone called Byrne.” But Teddy’s logic didn’t stop there, “Did he want the guns?” “Yes.” “Why?” “Because he’s IRA. The IRA is an organisation…” “I know what the IRA is, Tommy,” Teddy quickly cut him off, “Like the man that got shot by a woman the other day.” Her brother frowned, “Where did you hear that?” “Nancy told me,” Teddy said, matter-of-factly, “Is he dangerous?” “Byrne? Yes, he is.” “And that’s why you went to that copper?” the little girl’s eyes grew big with disbelief, “Did you shop an IRA man to the coppers, Tommy?”

“Not really,” Tommy explained, “I’m playing a double bluff.” Teddy furrowed her brows and was silent for a while, very uncharacteristically, and eventually asked, full of criticism, “Is that smart, Tommy?”   His sister made him laugh, “Not sure, sweetheart, but after tonight, I’ll know.”

Opening her mouth again, Teddy didn’t get a chance to ask her next dozen questions, because a young boy came in and handed Tommy a piece of paper. Her brother folded it open and read the message. Then he told Teddy, “I need to get things ready. Now, I know you have more questions, I can’t answer them all now. God knows if I’ll even live long enough... But after tonight, if I don’t get shot or anything, I’ll find you, eh?” Teddy sat up to protest, but he was already out the door. *** That evening, Teddy couldn’t sleep. She’d already counted all of the fucking sheep known to England and it hadn’t helped. She’d told Polly about her concerns, but she’d just told her to keep out of it. Finn on the other hand, had been very ready to answer all of Teddy’s questions as the much wiser older brother, but unfortunately, he had none of the answers. Her thoughts kept coming back to Ada and the baby, to Arthur and to her father. Finally, exhaustion took over and she drifted off to sleep.

When she woke up, she found Tommy sitting on the side of her bed. He’d watched her sleep and thought about how peaceful she looked, how small, how sweet, and how very different she was when awake. And indeed, as soon as she opened her eyes, a determined look came into her eyes and Tommy braced himself to be bombarded with questions once again. So, he decided to ask the first one, “You and Finn have your own beds. Why do you never use them?” As per usual, both Shelby’s slept huddled together under one blanket in one bed. “Cold,” Teddy shrugged. She was a Shelby after all and sleeping alone wasn’t anything they were used to.

Her brother mused, “I should take you out on the January some time, it’s been too long since you got to be a proper gyspy kid.” Teddy shot up, “Now! Can we go now, Tommy? Please, I’m really sick of Watery Lane!” He laughed shortly, “Nope. I have business first, Teddy. Come with me. And be quiet, don’t wake up Finn.” But both knew you could fire a canon in that small bedroom and still Finn wouldn’t wake up. Teddy followed Tommy down the stairs and into the front room. Only then, in the light of that parlour, did Teddy notice his face was all bruised and she saw a few specks of blood on his temple. Seriously, she commented, “So, it didn’t work, Tommy.” “No,” he sighed and he lit another cigarette, “It didn’t fucking work.” “That copper fucked us over,” Teddy concluded, and her brother nodded in reply.

“Did he beat you, Tommy?” “No.” “Did you sell them the guns?” He shook his head, “I lied about where they are. The coppers were supposed to come in and arrest them, but they were late. Like the fucking cavalry back in France. And then Grace took the shot and everything went to fucking hell.” “You were with the barmaid,” she stated, “Why are you always with the barmaid?” “Why not?” “I don’t trust her. She’s a liar, Tommy, and she…”

That’s when Aunt Polly walked in and Teddy stopped talking and looked up. She took one look at her nephew and niece and warned, “If this is what I think it is, Thomas, I forbid it.” Tommy looked at her with raised eyebrows, seemingly asking her: what do you think this is? Polly elaborated, “Theodora is only ten and she’s far too young to be involved in anything.” “Well, if you have any suggestions on how to keep her out of anything, I’ll happily take your advice, Pol.” “Don’t call me Theodora!” Teddy slumped down in her chair and sighed theatrically, “And I’m not involved in anything. Tommy would rather be with that barmaid than with me…” “Is that true, Thomas?” Tommy cleared his throat and looked away. Then he tried to change to subject, “I’m taking Teddy out onto the January, Pol. When all this is done.” But his aunt wasn’t so easy, “Why?” “She needs to learn how to skin a rabbit for starters. Light her own fires…” “I can light a fire!” A high-pitched voice interrupted. “…with wet wood. I want to teach her how to steer as well. Maybe even get a horse onto the boat. She needs to become a proper Shelby now that she’s growing up.” “Is that nostalgia I hear, Thomas?” Polly asked. He shrugged a maybe at that. So, she said, “Fine. But becoming a proper Shelby is just that: boats and horses and fires. No talk of robberies or guns or any of the business. I mean it, Tommy, I don’t want you talking to Teddy about it.” “No, Pol, the robbery’s not spoken of,” Tommy repeated, but he winked at Teddy when Aunt Polly didn’t see.

And when she’d left, Teddy said, with a twinkle in her eyes,” You lied to Aunt Polly!” “Yes, you taught me well. Now, I need your help, Teddy. I need your advice, because you were right, that copper wasn’t to be trusted and now I have to decide what to do next…” Quietly, the two siblings talked about all the things not spoken of. Tommy explained to her all the bargaining chips he had left and the different possibilities he saw. Teddy asked her thousand questions and somehow, that made things clearer for him: through her eyes, he could see the weak spots in his plans. He told her who was involved, where the guns were and what his plans for London were. And, of course, Teddy offered her help. She even came up with her very own strategy, one that Tommy would consider. In the end, they made the solemn promise to each other not to tell Polly about any of this. Then they went their separate ways, as partners in crime. *** Playing two-up was officially forbidden by law, an outlawed form of gambling, which was why all the kids played it in Small Heath. Teddy tossed her coin and jumped up into the air as she’d won. In the mud in front of the Garrison, she could oversee the whole street, and that’s how she liked it. Suddenly, she noticed her brother Finn running her way. “What’s wrong?” She asked him, abandoning her game at once. Finn panted and explained, “Tommy took me to the grave at St. Andrews. We’ve lost them, Teddy.” Obviously, Teddy had filled Finn in about everything she’d learned the days before. She’d promised Tommy to keep it a secret, but he’d have to understand that Finn didn’t count. She and Finn shared everything.

Together, the two of them hung around inside the pub, waiting, but also just passing the time. “Go and get me a few more buckets, will you?” Harry ordered them about, “There’s a sixpence in it for you if you don’t spill any!” And quickly they got to work. Grace watched the two of them. In her own way, she’d taken a liking to the youngest Shelby’s. Like small, feral rats, they seemed to be a part of Small Heath, like the bricks and the houses were. They’d never known anything else, she realised, and this was their kingdom. Pity they would get caught up in what was to come as well.

Tommy entered the Garrison, ruffled Finn’s hair for a second and asked Teddy where her shoes were, but without waiting for an answer, he then took Grace into the back. Teddy grabbed a glass from the bar and tried to listen in on the conversation. “What’s he saying?” her brother hissed. “Can’t hear,” Teddy groaned, “Everyone’s too fucking loud in here. Something about the copper?” Both kids turned as they heard shouts from the streets pouring in through the open doors. And Finn called out, “The police are here!”

At once, Teddy threw away the glass and busted through the door, “The police are in the lane, Tommy!”

“Teddy, you and Finn go on home, alright? Go now! No arguing with me, I don’t have the time, you do as your told for fucking once,” he bit in a slight panic. Then added, “I’ll need to lay low for a bit, you tell your aunt what happened, alright? I promise I’ll be fine.” But when she saw that it was Grace who then took Tommy away and out the back of the Garrison, Teddy’s worries only grew.

Meanwhile, chaos had descended upon Watery Lane. Finn and Teddy ran outside, where they saw the police invading every house. Obviously looking for someone, they grabbed every man and woman and threw them out onto the streets. When they tried to break open the doors to their house, Teddy jumped forwards, intend on fighting the police force herself. Finn grabbed her and wrestled her back inside the Garrison. Suddenly strong, Teddy couldn’t fight him off her, but still she tried with all her might. But her brother had her arm in some kind of deadlock and had the most determined look on his face, “No, Teddy. It’s not safe. I’m your brother and I told you ‘no’.” Teddy cursed in a manner far beyond her years, but she still couldn’t free herself. Sometimes it seemed like Finn was the younger one, often looking at Teddy for advice, but on rare occasions, he decided. When he was certain of what needed to be done, especially when he felt he needed to protect his little sister, he was stronger. Then the police burst in through the doors of the Garrison. Fear washed over Teddy as she saw the inspector and he asked after Tommy. But her big brother wasn’t afraid. Finn told him, “You’ll never find him.” Teddy had never been more in awe of him than she was in that very moment. But when Campbell told them to go home, they both ran as quickly as their little legs could carry them. Back at home, the two of them barely said a word to each other. Instinctively, they knew everything had gone wrong, and there was nothing they could do about it. It wasn’t until after Aunt Polly had held them both, they fell asleep on her lap on the sofa. *** The next morning, Polly tried to distract them with chores and school, but they weren’t interested in the slightest. Especially when Arthur showed up and Aunt Polly deliberately kept them away from him, they became even more persistent. And Polly had had enough. She was nervous enough as it was. So, when she found the two of them in front of the fire, smoking, she clipped their ears and send them up to bed without supper. About an hour later, Teddy crept down the stairs again. She was hungry, but all she could find was tea. Tea would have to do for now. Suddenly, she noticed Arthur sitting by the fire. But he didn’t look up when she approached. Maybe he hadn’t seen her? Loud steps echoed through the house and purely out of habit, Teddy hid behind the curtains.

Tommy walked in and pulled aside Arthur’s collar to examine what looked like rope marks to Teddy. She wondered how he’d gotten hurt. Finally, Arthur spoke, “So Polly told you.”

“Yep,” Tommy answered, and he poured himself some tea. That’s when Teddy looked down and realised she was still holding her teacup behind the curtain. Silently, she took a little sip. Still warm. “You should’ve used a gun,” Tommy said, and it was like the ground fell out from underneath Teddy. Arthur tried to hurt himself?

Her oldest brother growled, “Are you laughing at me, Tommy?” “Yeah.” Arthur looked away and Tommy continued, “Just when things are starting to go right, Arthur, you try and do this.” Tommy laughed, “Don’t you like fancy parties? Or, um, champagne? Or fast cars? And how about this.” He showed Arthur a piece of paper, “Your name on a business card.”

“Shelby Brothers, Limited. Arthur Shelby. Associate bookmaker,” Arthur read.

“I just had them picked up from the printers this morning. You’re one of three shareholders. Me, you, John. And according to the law, we are equal partners. And it is written in the paperwork in black and white. A third, a third, a third.” Tommy sat back and joked, “But the thing is, well, me and John, we quite fancy splitting your share, so… just next time, use a gun, man.”

Arthur finally laughed and Tommy smiled broadly. Then Arthur turned his head and called out, “You can come out now, princess.” Careful not to spill her tea, Teddy showed herself, “I wasn’t sure if you’d seen me.” “Ah Teddy,” he said, “Little spy. I always check every cupboard and curtain of every room I’m in, because usually, you’re there.” He wasn’t wrong.

Teddy put down her tea and carefully climbed up on Arthur’s lap. Then she hugged him for a while, not knowing what to say. She didn’t quite understand and what she did understand, there were no words for. So, she didn’t say any.

Tommy watched them both and continued, “Our men at the station tell me that copper is leaving town.” He leaned forward into Arthur, “We’re in the clear. We’re on our way up in the world, brother. Believe me.” Both brothers hugged with Teddy sandwiched in between.

In a small voice, Teddy eventually said, “Don’t do it again, Arthur.” “I won’t. I’m sorry about that, princess.” “Not even if Tommy tells you to because he wants your share.” “Ah, he’s only joking,” Arthur laughed. “Well, it’s not funny.” Tommy coughed once and looked down, “Understood. Next time, we’ll just get you to cheer Arthur up, eh?” “Yes,” Teddy cuddled up even closer to Arthur. She wasn’t closest to him by any means, but he was still her brother and she couldn’t bear the thought of him being gone. Not after the war, when she thought they’d never come back. Not now. “She is a good spy though, Tom. Maybe we could use her,” he joked Tommy nodded and continued drinking his tea. More serious, he said, “Me and Teddy have already discussed strategies.” Teddy looked proudly up at Arthur, who questioned, “Does Polly know?”

“You can’t tell her,” she quickly said, “She’d kill us.”

Arthur looked at Tommy as if to say: she’ll do more than that.

But his brother waved a hand, “It’s all under control, Arthur. Just let me do the thinking.”

“And me,” Teddy quickly added, searching for a business card that had her name on it in the newly printed stack, “I’m part of the business now too.”

***

Masterlist

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[lockleysfav]

Wake up

santiago garcia and frankie morales x reader

summary: It had been two days since you had been returned home from being tied down, cut, beaten and burned with flaming iron. You’re laying in a sleeping bag in the woods, asleep with the group until you have a nightmare.

warnings: pstd reader, fluff, unedited

You were inbetween Frankie and Santiago fast asleep while the rest of the group were chatting and eating. Frankie was the first to check on you, his beautiful eyes scanning over your exhausted ones. “Fuck sake pope” he mutters causing Santiago to turn around pulling the beer bottle away from his lips “whats up? is she okay?” Frankie grits his teeth “We should’ve been there” he spits “WE SHOULDVE BEEN THERE” the group falls silent at his outburst, Santiago is quick to stand and lightly pull him away from the area.

“hey..hey look at me fish” santi places a hand on his cheek patting it then placing it onto his shoulder “i know, we shouldve been there but we werent. You cant keep blaming yourself man, Y/n wouldn’t want that” Frankie suddenly shoves Santiago “You dont know what the fuck she wants, none of us do because she too afraid to fucking breathe incase its too loud, you know she was probably in that room waiting for us, waiting for us to come and take her back to safety because thats what we do right? we keep her safe not-” his hands are already balled into fist and he paces, Santi knows Frankie wont say it. All he can do is pull him into a hug and tell him everything is gonna be fine, you’re going to be fine. Weirdly enough it soothes him.

—

Will lowers his head, staring at your sleeping body. He felt just as guilty as Frankie did but what was there to do? he had no clues, no directions to who the fuck did this to you and it was tearing him from the inside out.

As they all finished clearing up their bottles, Frankie and Santiago got into their jackets and propped their bags up as pillows next to your body in case you needed anything. It brang comfort to them and the group to see you sleep for the first time in days but it still frightened Frankie, he was scared you wouldnt wake up.

—

“Dónde está el dinero” you felt the knife prick at your throat as tears continued streaming down your bloodied face “I dont fucking know what youre saying” you heard the man chuckle and another bucket of freezing water was thrown over you causing you to let out a strained whimper from the shock “I DONT FUCKING KNOW” your sreaming was silenced as he held up the ak-47 pointing it right between your eyes “inútil puta” he whispered before the bag went over your head and the water came over your head again

“f-frankie!” you were thrashing in your sleeping bag making Santiago stir awake, his body shot up seeing you thrash and he quickly leaned over your body caging it in his arms to calm you, normally it’d be a bad idea to cage someone in when theyre in this state but for you, being caged in by Santi or Frankie was the only way to calm you down. “Hey shhh, y/n cariño its santiago youre safe” his fingers brushed a few sweaty strands from your face and you finally woke up properly, locking eyes with santi. “Pope?” your voice barely came out as a whisper but you knew he heard it because he smiled “i’m here, you’re okay i promise” the both of you looked over at the sudden shuffling, it startled you and you instinctively grasped Santis hand in fear just for him to reassure you with a soft squeeze “it’s just frankie” he whispers.

Frankie sat up and looked over at your body curled into Santiagos, sighing in relief, he crawled over to the both of you and gentle placed his hand on your arm “Y/n, Are you okay baby?” you nodded and turned to face him. Locking eyes with Santiago was something, but locking eyes with Frankie made your fears, worry and pain disappear in seconds. Santi knew you felt more at ease with Frankie because you had known him longer but it didnt help the tinge of jealousy when you were pulled into Frankies arms. He fiddled with his watch and looked over at the group sleeping before turning back to you “Could i uh…hold you too?” his voice lowered as he go to ‘you too’ and you could tell he was upset.

The thing is Santiago was an overthinker and for some reason thought you found comfort in only Frankie but it wasnt the truth, you felt everything for them equally. Frankie was the loving, over protective boyfriend and would take his time inflicting pain on anyone who harmed you. Santiago was the hot headed, possesive but gentle lover and would put a bullet in someones skull with no second thought if they even looked at you funny. He believed no one deserved to live another second, Frankie kept them alive only for them to live in agony, that was of course Santi would lose it and shoot the guy.

-

“of course” you smiled at Santi and suddenly you were sandwiched between the two.

“mi amor estas seguro ahora”

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