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darknight3904 · 5 months

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See You in the Morning, Coryo

𝕊𝕦𝕞𝕞𝕒𝕣𝕪:ʏᴏᴜ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄᴏʀɪᴏʟᴀɴᴜꜱ' ᴀʀɢᴜᴍᴇɴᴛ ʀᴇᴀᴄʜᴇꜱ ᴀ ᴄʟɪᴍᴀx ᴀɴᴅ ʜᴇ ᴍᴀᴋᴇꜱ ᴀ ᴍᴏᴠᴇ.

ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴏɴᴇ / ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴛᴡᴏ / ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴛʜʀᴇᴇ / ᴍʏ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ

𝕎𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤: ᴅᴀʀᴋᴇʀ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ᴛʜᴀɴ ᴛʜᴇ ʟᴀꜱᴛ ꜰᴇᴡ ᴘᴀʀᴛꜱ. ᴄᴏʀʏᴏ ᴄʜᴀɪɴꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ᴜᴘ. ɴᴏᴛ ɪɴ ᴀ ꜱᴇxʏ ᴡᴀʏ, ꜱᴀᴅʟʏ.

The first time you met him you were 12. It was only your fourth day at the Capitol's Academy and you wished you could go home and bury yourself in your bed and never return. You had yet to meet anyone interested in being friends with you, the homeschooled freak who started oh so late compared to her peers. Sure, you had met Arachne and Festus at big lavish parties your parents threw but that didn't mean they liked you.

And then, on your fourth day of school, everything changes. Big blue eyes are fixated on the overly large sandwich and fruit bowl that had been in your lunch bag. A soft gurgle of a hungry stomach fills your ears and you turn to see a boy with the prettiest blonde curls atop his head staring at you.

"Do you want a piece? Our maid always packs too much and I can never finish it. You can have some if you want." You ask, picking up a strawberry and holding it out to him.

He hesitates for a moment but eventually reaches out and takes a small bite.

"Don't you have a lunch today?" You ask

"I already ate it." He said

Something inside you said he was lying and so you offered the rest of the fruit to him. Your sandwich would be enough for today, after all, no one should go hungry if another had something else to give.

You chat with the boy with blue eyes and pretty blonde curls. His name is Coriolanus Snow and he lives with his Grandma'am and his cousin. You smile at him as he eats the fruit, savoring the taste of the grapes that were mixed in. As you sit beside your new friend, you smile to yourself and hope he'll be your friend tomorrow too.

"You're not leaving. I won't let you."

Coriolanus knows how bad it sounds. He knows you're angry when you go to step around him and he blocks your path. Your engagement ring feels like a brick as it sits in his shirt pocket.

"Coryo. Move. I'm going home." You say, determined to get away from him.

Where do you think you're running off to? You have no place in society besides your spot next to him.

"You can't. You have to stay here. With me." He insists, hoping his softer tone will change your silly little mind.

"Please, Coriolanus. Just let me go home for tonight. I'll come back tomorrow. I promise." You whisper.

He hates that. Coriolanus. Why are you calling him that? He's always been Coryo to you why are you changing it now? The way his full name lingers in the air makes his blood boil.

Rage is something that's hard to control. Coriolanus has seen it first hand when the Districts rebelled against the Capitol all those years ago. He saw it Dr. Gaul when Lucy Gray survived her snakes thanks to him. He sees it now, in you as you give him a hard shove to his shoulders and begin moving toward the door.

Rage. That's why he does it. It's something he and so many others can't control. Rage. What a funny concept it is, how it causes someone to think so irrationally.

Truly though, you are to blame for it all. If only you had just talked to him rationally. taking off your ring and throwing a fit, demanding to go home like you're some petulant child who needs a nap.

Perhaps this will change your attitude, after all, you couldn't just run off, he needed you.

There's an ache in the back of your skull when you finally open your eyes. A soft blanket is covering you and the soft scent of apples and cinnamon is wafting through the air.

"This is your favorite, right?"

A voice that used to bring a smile to your face now sends a jolt of fear down your spine as you quickly sit up.

Coriolanus is sitting in a plush-looking chair, with your favorite candle burning on a little side table next to him.

What the hell had he done to you?

"You sat up too quickly. There's some painkillers on the nightstand if you want them." He says

His voice is so calm as you gradually take in your new surroundings.

"Where am I?" You croak, your voice sounds terrible.

"You're still in our mansion. This is the basement. Part of it anyway. Over the past two weeks, I got them to transform a section of it into a room perfect for you." He says, closing the book in his lap.

Weeks? How long had it been since that dinner when you tried to leave? What the hell had even happened? The last thing you clearly remember was shoving Coriolanus and beginning to walk away. Had he hit you with something? But then how did he keep you down for two weeks so he could bring you here?

"You're wondering what happened. I'm not proud of it but I hit you with a serving tray before you could leave."

Your mind briefly conjures up the silver trays that the food you often enjoyed was served on.

"I had a doctor give you injections to keep you asleep until this room was ready. The headache you feel is the hangover from the drugs, not a concussion. I made sure he gave you an exam and he's cleared you from any injuries."

Corionus' explanation is making your brain ache. What the fuck was happening? Why are you in a basement bedroom instead of your normal one? When was he going to let you out? Would he ever let you out?

Your stomach gurgles and you just barely make it to the small garbage can that's sitting on the ground next to the bed.

"Ah, the doctor said vomiting was another side effect. I'm sure it will pass soon." Coriolanus says, unbothered as you heave up whatever gunk he had gotten the doctor to pump into your stomach.

You wipe your face with the back of your hand, wishing for something to take away the burning at the back of your throat.

"Alright. Since you're awake now, I'll be leaving. Lots of meetings today and the arena is nearly ready I just have to approve a few more things." Coriolanus says, standing up and fixing his tie as he begins to walk away.

"Wait." You groan, trying to reach out to him

"I'll be back for dinner. I know how much you love to listen to me talk about my day."

Two months later

There's been a certain warmness about you recently. Perhaps it's the flowers he brought you your maybe the fact that he takes the heavy chain off your ankle when he visits you. He decides it's the latter as he watches thumb through the new books he handed you.

"Do you like them?" He asks

"Yes." You smile as you gently place them on your shelf.

You're so effortlessly pretty, even here, locked away from the sunlight and every inch of society. Here, you're all his, every bit of you hinges on him opening the heavy metal door that keeps you here. It's been so long since you had even tried to argue or fight back against him. Sure, the beginning had been rough, you had thrown things at him and had at one point threatened him with a butter knife but now you we so docile. Almost like he had domesticated a wild animal and now it was trained perfectly.

"Could you bring the little cakes tonight?" You ask

"The ones with the powdered sugar on top?"

You nod as you sit on your bed, stretching out your right ankle which is marked with a heavy bruise from the chain he had to put on you. It wasn't what he wanted but after you tried attacking him when he entered the room on the second day of your enclosure, he knew it was a necessity.

"I'll have the chef make extra. We can eat as many as you like and get fat." He teases

You smile at him but he can see something else behind your eyes.

Sadness.

You remind him of a bird with clipped wings. Freedom so effortlessly in reach but unable to fly to reach it.

If only he could trust you enough to let you back into the main floors of the mansion.

Time passes slowly whenever Coriolanus is gone and it gives you time to think. You were going mad, chained up all day, waiting for him to bring you your meals and sit with you at night. So in an effort to chase your impending insanity away, you thought. You thought about your childhood and if things would be different had you never given Coriolanus that stupid bowl of fruit. Perhaps you'd be head of your father's company now, or maybe you'd be married to some elite capitol man.

Your mind was always racing, overanalyzing every little thing and every little mistake you had ever made.

Perhaps you should've never confronted him about those pictures. If you had just slipped out of the mansion one day what would had happened? Maybe he would've caught you or perhaps you would've made it back to your parents, back to your old life and self.

How naive you had been at that gala years ago, thinking that you didn't need anything but Coriolanus. What a stupid girl you had grown up to be.

The past few weeks had been rough. You had been sucking up to Coriolanus to be let back into the main part of the mansion. You claimed to just want to feel sunlight again. Of course, you also planned on running the moment you had an opening but he didn't need to know that half.

Coriolanus was simply insane, it was a conclusion you had come to after all these long days. Maybe he had always been like this but you were just too blind to see it. Maybe his nice gestures and honey-coated words had disguised the monster that lurked behind those eyes. All you knew was that he was the worst man in all of Panem and here you sat, suffering all because you were his favorite.

"My heart burns for you."

What a load of bullshit.

He stays true to his word and arrives that night for dinner, cakes in hand. Silenced Avoxes serve you your food and Coriolanus sits across from you at the table that had mysteriously appeared one night when you were asleep. The chain on your ankle made an unpleasant sound as you shifted in your seat.

"The salmon is nice, isn't it?" Coriolanus asks as he eats

"Yes, it's wonderful. Very buttery." You say, struggling to find exactly what was good about it.

You didn't want salmon, you didn't really want anything anymore, perhaps you were finally giving into whatever game he was playing by keeping you here.

"I've decided to replace the curtains throughout the mansion. I've found the blue to be a bit ugly. Tomorrow there will be beautiful maroon ones hung." He informs you

You had hand-picked the blue ones, years ago.

"I'm sure they will be beautiful." You say looking down at your lap.

Coriolanus stops chewing and sets his silverware down.

"If you're going to mock me, you shouldn't even open your mouth. You know I hate it when you're full of attitude so why do you still try?" He says

It's a warning. You know it, he knows it.

"I know. I was being serious." You say, "I hope I get to see the maroon curtains soon, Coriolanus."

"Coryo." He corrects, placing a bite of food in his mouth

"Coryo." You parrot.

He smiles, pleased with you.

"You will, soon."

Dinner passes slowly as you finish your salmon to the tune of Coriolanus' talking. Something about the latest games being a wonderful success and that the big finale would be either tomorrow or the next. He suggests you watch on the little TV that sits in the corner, untouched, it was something that was added a week ago, specifically so you could watch the games. You promise to watch and he smiles at you again.

Coriolanus bids you goodnight after dessert. He double-checks your chain before straightening up and gently kissing your forehead.

"Goodnight, darling. I'll see you in the morning."

"See you in the morning, Coryo."

The past week had been going nearly perfectly for Coriolanus. Not only had the games been perfect, but you had been impressing him. Sure, a few days ago at dinner you had called him Coriolanus and he nearly lost his cool after he thought you insulted the curtains but that was behind him now.

He had finally concluded that he'd release you from the basement. He missed your presence in the mansion and at the normal dinner table. He wasn't quite sure about letting you have full roam yet, perhaps he'd sedate you during the days and let you walk around at night, when he could personally keep an eye on you before bedtime. The idea of one of the Axoxes watching you didn't sit right, after all, if you ran what would they do? They couldn't even shout for help to bring you back inside.

He was positively giddy as he walked down the many flights of steps that led to where you were. He wanted to show you the greenhouse first. Sure, you had seen it before but the way the roses were blooming recently was simply too good to pass up. He had planted new ones recently too, blushing pink ones that reminded him of you and your warmness to him.

The metal door was cool against his palm as he opened it to reveal your darkened room. The door let out a heavy groan as it shut behind him.

It wasn't uncommon for you to be sleeping when he entered, he often visited during the night and would watch you, as if you were going to disappear. However, this time the darkness confused him. It was the middle of the day, surely you weren't still asleep?

The soft clink of that ridiculous chain filled his ears as he stepped towards the lamp that sat on your shelf.

"Are you hiding from me, darling?" He asked into the darkness, ready to scoop you up and hold you close.

Silence answered his question as his eyes tried to focus on anything.

The softest rustle of fabric fills his ears as he quickly turns to his right. The slightest shimmer of color reaches his eyes, illuminated by what little light wormed its way under the door. It's you, in that sweater you often wore.

"I see you." He says reaching out to what he thinks might be your arm. "What a pretty shade of blue that is. I'll have a designer make a dress in that color for you."

He swears he hears you whisper his name but perhaps it was just in his head as he steps forward.

Coriolanus feels the smile that was on his face drop into his stomach when he hears it again, the rustle of fabric. You were behind him now.

His hands twitch one, then twice, and before he can react, you're there, in front of him again, anger polluting your pretty face.

His lips form your name but it never leaves his mouth. Instead, the cool metal of that chain he had intended on removing was cutting his vocal cords off.

The chain he hated putting on you, the chain you had desperately tried to claw off many times as he watched through a grainy video feed was rapidly wrapping its way around his neck, ready to destroy him.

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wp-blaze · 12 hours

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Hosting a Graduation Party on a Tight Budget

Do you have a child graduating this year? Do you want to host a graduation party to celebrate but your budget is tight? Hosting a graduation party on a tight budget can still be memorable and fun! Consider the following tips for inspiration. Remember have fun! This is a celebration not a chore. With some … Continue reading “Hosting a Graduation Party on a Tight Budget”

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charliehoennam · 26 days

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sweet stranger

A/N: request made here by @annekelovesreading

Summary: the war veteran Alfie seeks comfort in a stranger in hopes of returning to his old self

Pairing: Alfie Solomons x F!Reader

Warnings: 18+, smut, reader is a sex worker.

SHARING IS CARING, SO PLEASE REBLOG

"Thanks for the ride, James. I'll see you tomorrow morning."

You climb out of the Bentley and adjust your coat, smoothing out the wrinkles of your dress before strutting towards the hotel, your heels clacking against the pavement and then marble floors of the lobby.

You sense the judgemental eyes already on you, but you've learned how to ignore them. If their judgement paid your rent and bills, then you'd finally be able to retire. But until then, you did what needed to be done.

The service you provide is simple and clear. You meet the client, humor them a bit and fuck them before leaving at first light.

You are lucky enough to work for a powerful and strict madame that actually recognizes the importance of her employees' well-being and ran a high-end business.

Her rules were clear. No marking, no hitting and contraceptive must be used.

Just because her empire dominates the professional area of sexual pleasure does not mean she runs a funhouse. Many would mistake Madame's care for benevolence when it is really just a matter of logistics.

Black eyes don't allow her employees to escort her wealthy clients to prestigious social events. And the only reason her business dominates is because she assures clean employees to her clients. An employee with the clap gets the boot and replacing them is expensive.

After giving your name at the front desk, you take the keys you're headed with a smile and head to room 403.

The name is not unfamiliar. You've heard plenty of Alfie Solomons and part of you is afraid of what he'll be like, judging by what you've heard.

The ring of the lift snaps you our of your thoughts. You flash a smile at the liftman and thank him before stepping into the hallway.

Alfie Solomons is not your first client - nor will he be your last - but knowing he is the first gangster you're about to meet and sleep with has butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

You mentally repeat Madame's rules to yourself to try and ease your nerves. But then again, do rules hold any standing to criminals?

Taking a couple of deep breaths, you manage to relax as best as you possibly can in the situation and simply remind yourself that he is no different than any other client.

You lift your hand to knock on the door. There's movement behind it and the metal of the lock on the side rattles as it slides to open.

Your lips pull into a welcoming smile at the broad, tall man that opens the door. Taking in his features, you quickly notice his wet hair.

The smell of soap emanates from his large frame along with a faint scent of rum and an irresistible natural musk that almost lured you to touch him.

It's obvious that he took the time to wash himself and, to be honest, you're quite thankful for that.

"You must be Mr. Solomons."

"Punctual little thing, ain't you? Come on in, love. Don't mind me."

His tone is rather calm even with his heavy Cockney drawl. His fingers, however, seem to confess his nerves with the way they flick back and forth.

"Punctuality is a necessary characteristic in my line of work, Mr. Solomons."

"Right, right" he nods as you walk past him. He still can't seem to look you in the eye, but you've yet to discover why.

Most of the nervous clients that you've had were first-timers, young men eager to lose their virginity especially before being sent to war.

Alfie is very attractive and pleasing to the eye with his large strong build, but he is no young boy. You find it hard to believe that this would be his first time being as wealthy, cunning and wealthy as you heard he is.

"May I take your coat, love?"

"Yes, please."

You turn to back to him to allow his assistance, taking in the sight of the hotel room. You've been in this hotel before, but despite that, the lavious decoration of the suite never fails to impress.

Alfie can't help but feel intimidated by the simple scent of your perfume as he stands behind you, taking your coat to hang it for you. He doesn't want you to pick up on the fact that he feels so out of his element.

Before the war, Alfie had his fair share of women. He used to be so different. So young and naive and confident - which is the only characteristic he can successfully feign more than well in the wicked world he treads in.

But now, he's in foreign territory. So much has changed for him.

Getting his affairs back in strict order took so much work, sweat and blood from him that he hadn't prioritized his romantic desires.

If age hadn't been enough, the night tremors made it impossible to sleep beside anyone. Red blotches were beginning to spread throughout his body due to the psoriasis. His sciatica only worsened with age and the harsh conditioning the war had forced onto it. And now the fucking cancer, which only added to his list of secret insecurities.

The confident young man he used to be was gone. Alfie was still human, however. And like many other humans, he yearned for companionship. The problem is that a man like Alfie can't confide in just anyone. He can't expose it without the risk of his enemies seeing it as an opportunity to use it against him.

Good thing about Madame's business is that her turf is neutral and independent ground. For now, at least.

Alfie knows he has to overcome this hurdle if he plans to get married one day and start a family and he just thought this would be the best way.

He's got a beautiful woman in his hotel room; he knows what you came here to do. He's just not sure what to do at this point other than to confess it to you. He doesn't want to say it, but deep down inside, he feels a bit humilited.

It shows in the way he avoids your eyes, the way his head hangs low.

"There's no shame in that, Mr. Solomons. I'm happy to help however I can. We don't have to rush into anything just yet... Do you drink?"

"Not often. Clouds the mind."

"Precisely. What do you drink?" You smile warmly at him.

"Wine is my favorite."

"Let's get you a glass then, Mr. Solomons."

Just as you expect, the wine is successful in loosening him up a bit.

You're careful enough to avoid asking any questions that concerns his business, so you focus on asking him to share things he enjoys like music and books.

After a couple hours and a couple glasses, he's warming up to you as you listen attentively to his childhood stories. Despite the wine, he is cautious enough to leave out certain details that are too personal for you to know that could bring him or his family harm if they ended up in the wrong hands.

You can't take it personal, and can only imagine that trust does not come easy in his line of work which only confirms that pressing him on such information wouldn't be very smart.

No matter how easy the conversation is flowing or how comfortable he may seem to be, you can't forget who he is beyond these four walls.

As he finishes his glass of wine, he sets it down on the table in front of you while raising a hand to his shoulder to rub at the aching knot in his muscle.

"Would you like me to take care of that for you, Mr. Solomons?"

"With what, love? Oh, this?" He asks glancing at his shoulder. "Oh, no. You don't have to do that."

It almost like he's forgotten the reason you're both there.

"Really, I don't mind at all. It's the least I can do for you, sir."

With a sweet smile, you stand as you finish off your glass and set it beside his on the table before walking over to his chair to offer him your hand.

"I promise I won't do anything you don't want me to."

His blue eyes narrow their gaze at you for a moment as if he's trying to read you. You can see him physically tense before accepting your hand.

The talkative Alfie is suddenly replaced by a quiet and insecure version as he watches you, from where he's sat in the bed, take your heels off - your almost bare feet still covered in your black stockings - before climbing onto the bed.

You stand on your knees , which are spread to accommodate him between them, and sit back on your feet after taking the small bottle of rose scented intimate oil from your purse.

"It's like riding a bike. Your body knows that to do, but it needs time, patience and practice, so you have to go slow."

Your breathe on his neck has chills racing up his arms as you reach to his front to unbutton his vest and slide it off his wide shoulders. You do the same with his shirt, but pause before sliding it off as his hand instinctively hold your wrist.

"May I? I'd love to see you, but if you don't want to, I can just slide it down a bit."

He ponders for a moment but replies with a silent nod as he releases your wrist.

You slide it off and much to your impression, he seems even wider and stronger than you'd imagined.

A couple scars and red blotches already here and there on his skin, but they don't stop you from marveling at the rippling muscles.

"My goodness... Mr. Solomons, with all the utmost respect, but you are quite the work of art."

He can't help but smile at your compliment, although he thinks that you're just saying what you think he wants to hear, so it's hard for him to believe.

You let your palms gently wander over his large back and arms, with a gentle squeeze to his biceps.

"Carved from stone, are you?" You joke, bringing a chuckle out of him.

"No, love. Just flesh."

"Fortunately."

Using the pipette, you pinch a couple drops of the oil onto his shoulders before closing the vial to set it aside and letting your fingers get to work.

Alfie groans softly and his eyes instantly close as you start massaging to undo the knot that's been bothering him for weeks now.

"How is that, sir? More pressure?"

"No, love. That's just fine...just perfect," he sighs relieved. "Fucking 'ell, love. That feels fucking great. You've no idea how long that's been bothering me."

"I can imagine. You've got knots like this all round. It can't be easy to live with them.

Slowly but surely, Alfie starts to relax. It's impossible not to. It's been a while since he's been touched by anyone, much less massaged by them.

The tension is his body begins to ease as your fingers work away not only the knots caused by the stress of his days, but the anxiety of being intimate again. It doesn't seem so foreign suddenly.

Building up the courage to place a gentle kiss onto the back of his shoulder, you lower your head and press your lips to his skin.

"Is this alright?" You whisper.

"More than alright."

"I can go lower if you'd like me to."

He nods, so you glides your fingers down the middle of his back, pressing against ether side of his spine.

"Fuck, love... That is heavenly."

You smile at the praises and take it a sign to continue the gentle teasing, moving your kisses up to the crook of his neck.

You take your time to ease him into his arousal. The lower you go down his back, the more convinced he becomes.

"Would you like me to touch you?"

You ask nuzzling your nose against his ear and he nods.

You reach a hand to his front and rub your palm against his clothed crotch. Although you can't see his cock, you can tell the man's been blessed with girth as it twitches against your touch.

Alfie gives in to the instant pleasure and moans, letting all his worries melt away. He can't remember the last time he's been able to feel so at ease.

As you whisper encouraging praises into his ear from behind, Alfie allows you to unbutton his trousers and slither your hand under the fabric to stroke his cock with a firm grip.

The room seems to spin around him. His head feels heavy from the pleasure as it leans back against your shoulder.

"That's it, sir. Just let me take care of you" you smirk kissing a sensitive spot on his neck that he didn't even know could make him tremble.

He isn't sure how much longer he can last. It's been a while after all.

"L-love, you feel so good."

You chuckle, letting his thick cock spring free from its confines.

"You're fucking beautiful, sir."

"Oh, you think so, yeah?"

You nod as your hand strokes his dick, coating it with his own pre-cum and the essential oil you'd brought.

"Lemme get more comfortable, love. Wanna see more of ya," alfie says holding your wrist to stop your movement for a moment.

He stands to kick off his trousers, standing in all his naked glory before sitting further up the bed with his back against the upholstered headboard.

"C'mere, love. Lemme see you hm?"

His invitation is made with calloused hands guiding you to straddle his lap. You make quick work of unbuttoning the dress and sliding the straps off your shoulders to reveal your chest with a sultry smile.

"May I?"

You can't help but smile at how he's a gentleman in such a moment. Most clients wouldn't even bother to remember asking, but Alfie makes you forget that he is just another client.

His large hands reach to knead your breasts, giving them such attentive appreciation as he licks his pink lips, eager to get them on you.

"It's alright, love" you whisper, seeming to read his mind.

The way his beard scratches your sensitive skin has your back arching into his warmth. His gentle and considerate admiration lures you into a trance; into a heated dream where you are able to finally feel like a woman loved.

You welcome him with fingers lacing into his messy brown locks still damp from his bath earlier. Your hips move mindless as you grind your clothed sex against his exposed cock, reminding him how good he feels and how you want him to feel the same.

Shifting onto your knees between his legs on the bed, you pepper tender kisses down his chest and stomach as your breasts dangle down and rub against his cock.

The anticipation has Alfie balling his fists into the white sheets.

"You are the most beautiful woman in the world, love. Fucking 'ell," he mumbles as your hands run up and down his thigh, giving gentle squeezes to tease him on.

"It's gonna be a long night."

#alfie solomons #alfie solomons x reader #alfie solomons x you #alfie solomons x y/n #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders fic #alfie solomons fic #alfie solomons imagine #alfie solomons fanfic #tom hardy

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hobies-princealbert · 9 months

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"you worry too much cariño" | boxer! miles 42 x reader

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◇ you were with miles from the start. you saw his love for boxing from the first day yall met. you remember how he would rave about rocky and how his room was littered with cut out pictures of sugar ray, mayweather, muhammad and all the greats.

◇ you remember how he begged his uncle for years to become his trainer. how upset he got when he couldn't perfect his right hook. how sore his muscles got after an eight hour training day. how happy he was when he won his first match that he ran out the ring before the ref announced his victory, and grappled you into a bear hug. you both shed a couple of tears that night.

◇ you were his no.1 cheerleader. always by the ring with mrs. morales and uncle aaron cheering miles on. even if you don't know jackshit about boxing, one thing was certain miles was good. so good that by the time he was 18, he had been invited to compete in that national tournaments.

◇ but no matter how good he was, he would still get nervous. especially if the event drew in a big crowd. you were always there to give him a pep talk or smack the sense back into him, and tell him to get back in there and kick some ass.

"si señorita" he gave you quick kiss (and a pat on the ass for good luck ofc), and headed back into the arena.

◇ he loves when you practically nurse him back to health. whether he got a busted lip or a bruised cheek. best believe after every match, he would make his way back stage where he knew you would be waiting on him with a first aid kit handy.

"miles, you need to be more careful. look at you. your lips, god and your cheek, it's do swollen. don't gimme that look i'm serious look what that asshole did to you"

"cálmate mami, the guy's suppose to beat me up. es parte del trabajo bebe" he took the hand that you had resting on his shoulder and kissed the palm to further his assurance.

"hey if you don't want me to nag you, you can always go to med staff. you know the people who's job it is to do this," you pressed an alcohol pad on his lips which made him hiss a bit.

"you worry too much cariño. plus how am i suppose to get mi besos to me feel better huh?"

◇ miles is more than grateful for all the support you give him, so best believe he's gonna make sure your well taken care of. it's the least he could do for you after so many years of being his nurse, cheerleader and emotional support coach.

◇ the money he's makes from tournaments and sponsorships, he can surely afford to give you anything your heart desires. "just say the word and it's yours mi corazon". plushies, shoes, jewelleries, clothes, nice vacations and dinners. borderline spoiling you rotten.

◇ and if your not one for extravagant things, he'll make sure that you never have to struggle to afford basic necessities. definitely a "don't worry i'll cover most of the bills for you baby" typa man (aaah a girl can dream)

◇ shouts you out in interviews. whether they ask about his love life or his biggest inspiration, he always makes sure that everyone knows he's had a great girl by his side every step of the way, and he hopes to keep it that way for as long as your down.

@fezcossidepiece (*≧ω≦) enjoyyyy!!!

#earth 42 miles x reader #miles morales prowler #prowler x reader #earth 42 miles x you #earth 42 miles morales x black!reader #atsv #atsv prowler #rewrote this like 10 times #i hope you like it #☆° via writes °☆

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bluegalaxygirl · 5 months

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Hiii I really like your content was wondering if you could do a Zosan with a kleptomaniac s/o????

I hope you have a nice day!!:]

Warning: Stealing and bad language.

^ You work very well Nami, the two of you often plan a lot of jobs together but it can some times go wrong with your sticky fingers. Unfortunately you can't help it either you don't notice yourself doing it or that awful overwhelming need to steal something gets too much to the point where you have to take something.

^ Chopper has been a great help though giving you techniques to try and calm yourself down or medication that helps control the urges but there are days when you just take things regardless of the consequences.

^ You have taken things form your crew mates but once you realize you've done it you bring it back to them or place it where you got it from. You've given Franky and Usopp many headaches and almost given Luffy and Brook a heart attack form taking stuff but over time the crew have gotten used to it and if their missing something they always come to your first.

^ It really annoys you when one of the crew accuses you of taking something when you haven't, you don't lie to your crew about it so when they keep pushing it can turn ugly, this is when your boys step in and try and drag you away form the situation to cool off.

^ You take Sanji's lighter a lot, its shiny and gold something you can't resist, it doesn't matter how many times you take it the cook never notices until you either hand it back or he needs another smoke. Sanji has never scolded you for taking his lighter since he knows you can't help it and you always keep it safe, it never comes back damaged or scratched.

^ Sanji likes to call you his magpie since you love anything pretty and shiny, it's a nickname you really love and often blush at. Sanji has also un-continuously handed you back his lighter after asking if you've taken it from him. He'll use it to light up his cigarette then place it back in your hands while kissing your head then walking away, it always dumbfounds you when this happens and you often run after him to give it back.

^ You take Zoro's bandanna or one of his earnings, he's much batter at catching you taking his bandanna out of his back pocket than you take an earring from his ear. It always surprises him when he's told one of his earrings is missing since he never felt you take it or sore you with it. When he catches you he'll grab your wrist and give you a cocky smile before forcing you to be one of his weights for that day, he knows if your stealing form him than your gonna do it to the crew too so might as well keep you distracted.

^ As much as Zoro wants his stuff back he'll wait for you to bring it back mainly because he loves the pout on your face when you walk over and hold it out to him. The swordsman always chuckles before pulling you into him and making you put it back where you found it while admiring your cute pout.

^ Zoro is 100% ok with asking you to steal something for him, it's mostly when he doesn't have enough money and doesn't want to borrow money form Nami with her excessive interest rates. Sanji on the other hand never asks you to steal stuff for him, and he hates it when ever Zoro asks you to take something, even if he finds out weeks after the swordsman asks he's in big trouble.

^ The two know how hard you struggle not to steal from the crew, they see it on your face and in your body language. They both try to distract you in different ways, Zoro makes you train with him while Sanji either offers you a massage or asks you for help in the kitchen. They can also tell when have stolen something from the crew, you'll go from tense to suddenly relaxed to tense again, so they'll ask you about it and help you gain the courage to put it back.

^ When you get gifts for them they don't ask you whether its stolen or not, they both don't care unless you get something thats very pretty and shiny like a ring. Sanji's only question is if you took it forms a girl, you don't do that anymore since the first time you did Sanji panicked and told you to take it back. You hated seeing the look on his face so made sure if you did steal form a girl it never went to the boys, Zoro didn't care who or where its from, but he would be berated by Sanji if the present you gave the swordsman was taken from a girl.

#one piece #polly relationship #zoro x reader #roronoa zoro #sanji x reader #sanji x zoro #zosan #zosan x reader #zoro x sanji #zoro roronoa #sanji #vinsmoke sanji #black leg sanji #one piece sanji #blackleg sanji #zosan art #one piece zosan #zosan fanfic

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jester089 · 7 months

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Jax Ass kicker here, it was definitely funny to see your thoughts on the purple menace and thanks for entertaining it! I’d like HC’s of them but only and ONLY if your up for it. I’m happy as is. Thanks! LOL ^_^

A well deserved A%# kicking (Part 2)

Can do! I'll read requests more thoroughly so I don't gloss over a vital thing like that again. Sorry again! Enjoy.

Caine

You being willing to fight back against Jax didn't really affect Caine as Jax never messed with him. Though Caine appreciates you helping out the others. It's strange but since Jax arrived Caine has seen an abnormal rise in abstraction. And Caine just can't put his finger on why? But then you showed up and it dropped back to the usual. *shrugs*

Gangle

Out of everyone Gangle needs it the most. She's made out of ribbon so she's easily hurt AND can't fight back! Have you ever tried to hit someone with a ribbon? It's impossible. AND HER MASKS ARE BREAKABLE! Yeah she needs some help. Your like a much needed Jax repellent that Gangle has been hoping for since she got here. But every time you protect her she feels bad cause she can't really do anything for you. But she'll try and be a bit more talkative/affectionate as you seem to like that. Do be warned each time he's stopped Jax gets more and more aggressive. So the only real way to have Gangle be safe is to either A. Always be with her. Or B. Get rid of Jax somehow. But that isn't going to happen so I recommend setting up a bed in your room for Gangle.

Zooble

Jax doesn't pick on Zooble a lot. He doesn't do her any favors sure, but I feel like their similar ages might make her less of a target? It's either that or because her reactions are never much fun to him. Well whatever the case, Zooble doesn't need much help. She can handle herself in an argument and in a fight. She could pop one arm off and have double the range making her able to hit the person with a full strength punch from afar. Still though everyone gets caught at a bad time eventually. And if you stepped in between her and Jax when something went wrong or Jax was being especially awful she would be grateful. She wouldn't show it until you two were alone but she does appreciate it. And she'll make sure you know that. Later.

Kinger

Kinger has been in the circus a while. He's the oldest in actual age and the one who's been there the longest. So he's definitely met a few Jax type people in his time and has learned how to avoid them. So more likely then not he wont need your help to often. But everyone needs help eventually. I can see Jax coating the outer layer of one of Kinger's pillow fortresses while he's inside with like cement to trap him. So when you save him he, like a true royal blushes then gives you his child's hand in marriage. But he doesn't have a child. So he'll have to do! (Don't expect anything fancier then a ring pop as a ring and a white sheet as a wedding gown.)

Ragatha

Ragatha honestly needs the help. Not because she's weak or anything. But because she's so worried about making sure the others are ok that she just lets herself be a punching bag if it means the others are ok. She's to much of a people pleaser and she suffers because of it. You two are a good mix of brain and brawn. She keeps everyone in the best state of mind she can manage. And you keep everyone as physically ok as you can manage. You make a good combo but you two can be a little overbearing so make sure, to make sure the persons ok with it. She's got a lot on her mind at all times so she wont always notice you helping her out, especially if it didn't happen in front of her or she was in the middle of something. But when she does realize she'll always thank you for it.

Jax

Two Jax's?! And your protecting one from the other?!? Error code 116832//: To many Jax's. Restart in 30 seconds. :\\ (That was a joke but like, it's a digital world. Technically it could glitch and their could be multiple of a character. I mean did you see that flower at the start of the pilot? It's clearly not a super well held together place.) (So, naturally my mind went straight to the thought being sandwiched in between two Ragatha's having the life squeezed out of me x2 in a super tight but incredibly loving hug. And naturally I'm going to write about that. Eventually. I'm pretty swamped rn.)

Pomni

From her first day here she's known that Jax was bad news. But she doesn't really avoid him, I mean she was there when he admitted to having keys to everywhere. So if he wants to find you their isn't just you can do. Until you arrive she hangs around him and is secretly hoping that he'll like having her around and take it easy on her. That of course doesn't work and by the time you arrive/realize how bad Jax is she's hanging on a thread. More likely then not your going to be taller then her. So if you see her clearly uncomfortable, with Jax or someone else if you just pick her up and walk away she'll be both embarrassed and thankful. She isn't the best at putting her foot down and stopping something she isn't comfortable with so your might end up having to be kind of an a%$#hole for her sake. (Ok I think I did your request right. If I didn't, again. Message me. Sorry but I'm not doing this for a third time. Your just gonna have to live with the two I did make. Even if it turned out wrong I hope you enjoyed.)

xoxo, Jester

#tadc x reader #the amazing digital circus x reader #caine x reader #gangle x reader #zooble x reader #kinger x reader #ragatha x reader #Jax? x reader #pomni x reader #noob author #not beta'd

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ecoamerica · 1 month

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cowgurrrl · 10 months

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Chosen to Deserve

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader (plus platonic!Ellie Williams x fem!reader)

Summary: “How can I teach her some way of being human that won’t destroy her? I would like to tell her, Love is enough, I would like to say, Find shelter in another skin. I would like to say, Dance and be happy. Instead I will say in my crone’s voice, Be ruthless when you have to, tell the truth when you can, when you can see it.” - Margaret Atwood [3.6k]

Warnings: all the drama of coming into Jackson, sibling turmoil, talks of Sarah and Jane, arguing, reader and Joel are both kinda dicks in this one but I get it

You hear the horses hooves before Joel can. You grab Ellie's arm and turn to run in the opposite direction when another masked person on a horse comes running up. At least a dozen of them flanking you on both sides and they all have weapons pulled. You don't even try to reach for your gun, and Joel does the same, pushing Ellie and you behind him and raising his hands. You and Ellie follow suit but keep her close enough for your hands to brush against each other. Her breathing is uneven and scared. Joel and one of the men have a conversation, but you can't focus on it. All you care about is Ellie. The man Joel was talking to gestures his gun at her.

"Take five steps back."

"She's not going anywhere." You say, and Joel mumbles your name.

"Shut the fuck up." The man spits.

"Easy," Joel jumps in. You don't know whether he's talking to you or the horseman, but you glare at him anyway. He ignores it and looks past you at Ellie, nodding at her. "You'll be okay." He says. She looks at you for confirmation, and your jaw clenches, but you nod at her scared eyes.

"Do what they say." You say gently, and she carefully takes several steps back. You turn your head to watch her, but a gun cocking turns your attention back to the people surrounding you. The man who told you to shut the fuck up is staring at you through squinted eyes, his shotgun pointed in your direction. You get the message. But she's too far away. You can't even see her in the corner of your eye. You want to grab her wrist and bring her back to you, but you don't move. The man whistles, and a dog appears out of nowhere. You can't remember the last time you saw a dog that wasn't feral.

"Last chance for a bullet," he says. "If you've been infected, he'll smell it, and he'll rip you apart." The dog barks and thrashes against the leash, and you hear Ellie gasp in fear. Goddammit, you think as the dog slinks over to Joel, smelling his shoes. There's no way out. You're too slow, and there are too many guns. You'd barely get your hands on your weapon before they'd kill you.

The dog jumps up on Joel and rears her head back. No one shoots. It must be her clear signal. The dog is called back before she's rereleased, this time to smell you. She repeats the action, and your shoulders drop.

"Satisfied?" You ask, and Joel says your name again like he's scolding you.

"One more." The man says as he rereleases the dog. She starts walking toward Ellie, and your heart beats in your face. You can hear her feet shuffling backward in the snow, and the dog growls at her. Your ears ring as you wait for the dog to knock her to the ground or worse. A bark pierces the air, and Joel jolts with the sound, but Ellie's laugh stops you from running toward her. You turn and see her giggling in the snow with the dog licking her face, completely safe. The dog is called back, and Ellie makes her way back to you. Nobody cocks a gun or yells at her to stop.

"You just bought yourself ten more seconds," the man says. "What are you doing out here?"

"I'm just lookin' for my brother," Joel says. A woman makes her horse walk forward, and you tuck Ellie behind you.

"I'm okay." She whispers, but you don't say anything. You just watch Joel and the woman. She asks his name, and he tells her. She turns back to the man who yelled at you and says something you can't quite hear.

"Lower your weapons!" The woman yells. No one even flinches or tries to question her. They just do it. "We're taking them back with us."

In a few minutes, you're each given a horse and are told to follow the group. The journey "back" to wherever they're leading you takes about ten minutes, and the massive fort-like gate leaves you speechless. Joel glances back at you and Ellie and raises his eyebrows as if to say, "getta loada this shit." You shake your head and glance at Ellie, who has a ghost of a smirk on her lips.

Once you're through the gate, a small city reveals itself. There are people. Like, lots of people. None of them show weapons or look up when you pass. You even see small kids chasing each other with pink cheeks and too-big hats. You can't look at them for too long. There are stores full of food and warm clothes, shoemakers, fucking ironsmiths. You almost think you've fallen into an alternate dimension. You and Joel seem to land on the same person as you get further into town.

He has long curly hair and a dark mustache though he has the same patches Joel has in his beard. They hold themselves the same way, you realize. Like there's too much weight on their backs, but they're doing their best to hold it anyways. He looks good. Healthy. Definitely not in whatever danger you and Joel thought he was in the whole time. Joel calls his name, and Tommy comes bounding down the scaffolding and into his older brother's arms. It's sweet and, by the looks of it, desperately needed by both of the men.

You turn to look at Ellie and see her looking a little lost and the tiniest bit jealous as she watches the teary reunion. You nudge her with your elbow and mouth, "What a baby" to get her to smile. She gives you a small one but falls back into her pensiveness. You slide off your horse to shake Tommy's hand and introduce yourself.

"And this is Ellie," you say, gesturing to Ellie. She smiles and waves but doesn't get off her horse.

"Y'all hungry?" Tommy asks, and that gets Ellie's attention. She finally comes down to the ground, and you all walk to the dining hall.

It's the first hot meal you've had in months. You do your best not to scarf the food down like you want to and keep your manners around Tommy and Maria. Ellie, however, doesn't really care. Joel tries to correct her, and you give him a look.

What? His raised eyebrows ask.

Leave her alone. You jerk your head in her direction.

Look at her. He widens his eyes.

Stop. You roll your eyes and look at Tommy with a smile.

"So, how long have you been in Jackson?" You ask, and he takes a deep breath.

"Uh, a few years now. I bounced around for a while before settlin' here." He says with a soft smile that reminds you of early mornings with Joel. You have to look away.

"Ma'am, we're grateful for your hospitality and all, but it'd be nice to have a moment here just for family," Joel says, looking at Maria pointedly. You elbow him in the ribs, and he gives you another look.

"What?" He hisses.

"You're being rude." You whisper.

"You fuckin' hit me."

"Actually, uh..." Tommy says, reaching for Maria's left hand to bring the matching wedding rings to your attention for the first time. "Maria is family."

It's been a long day. You haven't seen Joel since he and Tommy disappeared into the bar this afternoon. Maria showed you and Ellie an available house you can stay in for the entirety of your time in Jackson, however long. She's been nice to Ellie, but she's made it clear she doesn't care for you or Joel. You're sure she's heard stories from Tommy about Joel and, therefore, can make assumptions about you. Still, she hasn't said anything explicit to you. You expect there to be a fight, though. There's no way there won't be one.

After you take showers and put down your heavy packs, Maria silently takes you to watch a movie in the same place you ate lunch. About halfway through, you glance at Ellie, settled in a chair, and decide to sneak out to the general store for supplies. It takes longer than you thought it would, but you find a new hat and gloves for Ellie. It'll be worth it for when you have to get back on the road. You’re excited to show her but she’s locked in her room when you returned to the house. You try getting her to talk to you, but she doesn’t even open the door. She just yells at you to ask Joel.

"Do you wanna tell me why Ellie is sulking in her room?" You ask as you turn the corner and walk into what used to be the primary bedroom. You find him sitting on the edge of the bed with his head in his hands.

"We got in a fight," he grumbles, pulling his head out of his hands to look at you. "Doesn't matter. Tommy's takin’ her to the Fireflies in the morning."

"What?" You ask. What the fuck did they talk about while they were alone?

"She'll be safer with him. Tommy knows Jackson better than anybody. It's better this way."

"I'm sure his pregnant wife would disagree with you."

"Don't start with that."

"This isn't Tommy's fight, and you know that. He doesn't even know about her and-"

"I told him," he says. You blink at him as you try to wrap your brain around what he just said. Anger rolls through you. It wasn't his place to tell Tommy without consulting you first. He can't keep making decisions about her without talking to you. "I told him everythin’, and he agreed to do it. Said it would take him a few days, but he would be fine."

"You're serious." It's meant to be a question, but it sounds more like a statement. His eyes are heavy as he nods.

"We were gonna go our separate ways soon enough."

"You promised Tess."

"I said a lot of shit I didn't mean," he snaps. "You should go with 'em if you think it's so unsafe. I'm sure they could use the extra hands."

"And what're you gonna do?"

"Go back to Boston and forget this ever happened." He says without hesitation. The implication that you would be on his list of things to forget hits somewhere deep in your chest. You start pacing, unsure of what to do with the buzzing behind your molars.

"Jesus fucking Christ, Joel, really? You got into a fight with a fourteen-year-old, and now you're gonna hightail it back to Boston? Just like that?" You scoff, and he stands from his place on the bed, getting in your face. You square your shoulders in a silent dare.

"She brought up Sarah."

"And Jane," you say. "And Tess. And Bill and Frank. And Sam and Henry. You really wanna keep going? Because I can play this game all day."

"Tommy is takin' her to the Fireflies. End of story." He tries, and you squint at him.

"Oh, so you're abandoning her with someone else because it's more convenient for you? Sounds real familiar."

"Fuck you."

"Fuck me? I'm not the one going back to Boston because I'm afraid of a kid."

"It ain't about her. It's about Tommy-"

"Knowing this area better. I get it. But you know what he doesn't know? Ellie," you say. He wavers, stepping back a little, but you don't let him go that easy. "He doesn't know how to take care of her like you do. We've been traveling with her for six fucking months, and now you just want to dump her on someone else because it's hard? Because she brought up your kid? Huh?" You ask, but he doesn't say anything. He just stares past your face. "She's fourteen, Joel. Her job is to push your buttons just to see what comes out. She takes her anger out on you because she trusts you to handle it. She trusts you. We both do. But I swear to God, Joel, if you do this..." You're not sure what threat you wanted to tack onto the end of that sentence, but it dies in your throat. Your chest is pressed against his, and your breathing is ragged. You step away, finally, and make for the door.

Originally, you were going to sleep in bed with him. He even joked about it when Maria mentioned something about the house before you split off. Now, you'll sleep on the fucking couch if you have to. You're angry. You should be slamming doors and stomping down the stairs, but your hand lingers on the doorknob for some reason. You turn back to him.

"D'you really think you're the only person who hurts when you look at her?" You ask. "She... she is everything Jane will never be. I know that. But she's not Jane. And she's not Sarah. She's Ellie, and she needs help. If you can't handle that, then fine. Go back to Boston, but don't blame a kid for something you can't face."

Joel is gone by the time you wake up. No note. No goodbye. Nothing. He even made the bed, so there'd be absolutely no proof he was ever here. You want to fight with him again. You want to yell at each other until you figure it out or come to a place of understanding. You want him to want to figure it out with you. But the world has never been kind enough to care about what you want. So, you brush your teeth, wash your face, and push thoughts of Joel away. You have to get her to the Fireflies safely. One of you should fulfill the promise you made Tess.

When Tommy arrives on the doorstep with a sympathetic look and a rifle slung over his shoulder, you smile softly at him before opening the door wider. He shuts the door behind him as you move to the living room and pull your boots on. He walks over and plays with the blanket swung over the back of the couch.

"You know, there are beds upstairs." He says, and you nod.

"Joel and I got into a fight." You say. He's married. He should know how it goes.

"Seems to be a recurring theme with him."

"Yeah," you finish tying your bootlaces and sit back to look at him. "You really don't have to do this, you know."

"I know. I just... feel like I owe him," he shrugs, the rifle moving with his shoulders, and you sigh. "Plus, Maria's already mad at me bout it. Might as well finish it."

"Both the Miller men seem to be battin' a thousand this week." You laugh. There's movement upstairs, and you take a deep breath. Tommy reaches out and squeezes your shoulder, and you let him. In the twenty-four hours you've known him, you've realized Tommy is gentler, softer than Joel is. Still, Joel told you the stories of how the hot desert sun beat down on Tommy's baby face as he held a gun bigger than him. You know he's just as dangerous as Joel. You just wish Joel bore it as well as Tommy does.

"I should go talk to her." You mumble as you stand. He nods and wishes you good luck before walking up the stairs toward Ellie's room.

A closed door has never been as ominous as this one. You push through the pit of dread in your stomach and knock on the wood, only opening it when you receive a response. Then, like watching fall leaves, you watch her shoulders drop in disappointment. She thought—no, hoped— you were Joel. You walk over and sit next to her on the window seat, putting a hand on her knee and squeezing affectionately. You sit like that for a moment before Ellie frowns at you.

"I really thought he would change his mind." She whispers.

"Yeah, me too." You whisper back. She purses her lips and shakes her head like she's scolding herself for getting her hopes up. You squeeze her again, but she doesn't say anything. She just gets up, throws her backpack over her shoulders, and trudges down the stairs. You sigh and look up at the ceiling, racking your brain for the best way to turn her mood around before following her.

The walk to the stables is silent. You're each trying to settle into this new dynamic, but none of you like it. That seems to be the only thing clear about this whole situation. As you walk through the horse stalls, Tommy tells you something about the distance or the terrain or something. You lose track when you see Joel saddling up the horse you were coming to get.

"You came here to say goodbye or something?" Ellie snaps, but Joel doesn't even turn from what he's doing.

"No. I came here to steal one of these horses and go." His voice is strained, like he's been crying. Had he been crying? In the years you've known Joel Miller, you've never seen him cry.

"I woulda gave you one." Tommy chimes in, and Joel nods.

"I know," he says, finally looking at the three of you. His eyes linger on yours before he looks down at his boots again. "Anyway, that was thirty minutes ago, and I guess..." he trails off and starts walking to Ellie. "You deserve a choice. I still think you'd be better off with Tommy-"

"Let's go." Ellie cuts him off, shoving her bag into his chest with enough force to make him stumble. You fight a smile as you glance between them. This, you think. This is how it's supposed to be.

"Okay," Joel says. Ellie walks past him and to the horse, petting his nose and whispering sweet things. Tommy and Joel share a look of understanding before his eyes flick to yours. "D'you mind givin' us a minute?" He asks Tommy, and he shakes his head. He takes the horse Joel saddled up and Ellie outside before walking to the back of the barn to get another one ready. The air between you is thick as you stare at him, the dried tear marks on his cheeks catching the light, and you should be mad at him. You should curse at him and push him, but you don't.

"You made Ellie really happy." You say instead. He nods and takes a step into you.

"Only Ellie?" He rasps. You take a deep breath and press your tongue into your cheek, fighting the impulse to make a snarky comment. He can see the struggle and smirks devastatingly at you.

"I'm happy," you say. He takes another step closer, his chest hitting flush against yours, and you breathe in the mint toothpaste he used this morning. His lips ghost over yours, but you pull back and look at him intently before he can kiss you. "If you ever make me yell at you like that again, I will make your life a living hell, Miller."

"Promise?" He asks, a teasing lilt to his voice, and you raise your eyebrows at him. "I'm sorry for bein' a dick. I should've listened to you from the start. I'm sorry," he mumbles as he kisses you. "'M sorry." Kiss. "'M sorry." Kiss. "'M sorry." He trails down your neck, whispering apologies into your skin. You tilt your head to give him a little more room, relishing in the scratch of his beard against your pulse, when you hear Ellie's voice from outside. You slap his shoulder to get his attention, but he doesn't move.

"Cool it, cowboy. There are kids around." You say, and he chuckles.

"Kid," he corrects. "And she's not payin' attention." He says, lifting his head to kiss your lips again. It feels like it's been forever since you've had a moment like this with him, probably since before Tess died. Still, he tastes familiar, and the press of his lips against yours is a comfort. You indulge in it for a few more seconds before pulling away.

"We have to go." You whisper, your voice wrecked from the effect he has on you, and he groans.

"Okay, okay." He relents, prying himself from you, but you catch his wrist before he can get far.

"I'm serious about what I said. I don't wanna feel like I did last night ever again." You say, and he presses his lips into a line before intertwining your fingers.

"I'm sorry for the fight. For bein' a dick. Everything. I'll do anything I can to never do that to you or Ellie ever again, okay?" He says. Reluctantly, you nod and decide to forgive him. You don't have time to be mad at him, and there's nothing you can do to change the past. You can only keep moving forward.

"Okay," you agree. "But Ellie deserves an apology, too."

"Of course." He agrees easily. It's the least friction you've ever had while talking to him. You smile and kiss him one more time before you two walk out to where Ellie and Tommy are waiting with two saddled-up horses. The brothers bid each other a private goodbye, and you thank him for everything. He gives you directions as Joel pulls Ellie up on the horse to settle behind him, and you listen, too, in case Joel forgets something.

Then, as quietly as you arrived, you leave Jackson and its inhabitants for whatever the Fireflies have in store for you three.

#look for the light #joel miller #joel miller the last of us #joel miller and ellie williams #joel miller angst #joel miller hurt/comfort #the last of us fluff #the last of us hurt/comfort #the last of us series #the last of us x reader #the last of us fic #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x reader #platonic!ellie williams x reader

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yourcunningassassin · 5 months

Text

A Dance with Death

Gortash x gn!Durge

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hints at well established relationship | soft Enver | sfw

Warnings: gore | bad english cuz it isn’t my first language

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Enjoy reading, love!! <3

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

Determined, you strut down a hallway towards the staircase that leads to the corridor where Enver's office is located. You pass higher-ups and nobles who were very much alike in a way — they cowered at your presence. Even though you couldn't care less about these mere mortals, you can't help but let your eyes flicker across their wretched features with distaste. Do they even deserve to be here? After all, some of them have caused too many mishaps for Enver to keep count of. They need to get punished for every single slip-up that they have ever made in Enver's and your name. Although it's not their time yet, that will have to wait until another seemingly never ending-scarlet day.

Today, that very scarlet day is going to knock on someone else's door.

You climb the stairs that lead up to the upper floor of the fortress. Your dominant hand is poised at the handle of your dagger, aching to cut through the soft flesh of your sworn foe. Two steel watchers stand at the ready at the office door. You gently knock at the door before swiftly moving inside the office. Two guards were situated on either sides of the foyer — Enver's lapdogs if you will. You turn towards them. "May you leave us alone? We ought to discuss important matters now," you inquire with a bittersweet smile infused with malicious intent. A deep and collected voice rings to the foyer: "You may leave now; I don't require your assistance as of now." Enver comes up from his office to greet you. As he reaches you he gently takes your bloodied hand and presses soft kisses to it before discarding it. "My sweet assassin, there you are! I was wondering when you'd pay me another visit." As he says this a smile is present on Enver's face; his features softened, especially the otherwise very prominent crease between his brows. "Enver please stop," you say while taking a step back.

Your hand aches — oh how it aches! Would father be proud if you got rid of him? Probably. Is Enver a weakness? That he is.

Your hand yet again finds comfort in the handle of the ritual dagger that was a present from your father. A symbol of your utter and upmost devotion. Orin alway looks it like it's the most beautiful thing in the world. It is but it is linked to centuries after centuries of utter chaos, caused by Bhaal's Chosen — you. As Enver sees you reaching for the hilt he also takes a step back, now cautious of your every move. His face shows hints of bitterness. He begins by saying, "I trusted you, my love...I still do. I trust in us-" You interrupt him by swiftly moving behind him, your dagger at his throat as you whisper in his ear, "You're a distraction, Enver...you're my weakness. A weakness that ought to be destroyed..." Your dagger presses down a little harder, not yet enough to draw blood. "My hand aches to kill you; the voices don't stop...I can't keep going. My father needs this. He'll kill me if I refuse." With a breathless voice you say, "Just want to hear your sweet pleas as you cry for help while I glide my dagger across your soft flesh...while i rearrange your guts, my love~". Enver doesn't flinch; he doesn't even move as much as an inch as he knows — he knows that you’re lying in some extinct state. He smirks as he slowly exhales through his nose—a hint of the sharp intake of breath he had taken moments prior. "I'm impressed by you, my dear...the way you had me wandering into your little trap...but," he says, and he grabs your wrists with unexpected strength. You lose the grip on the dagger, and it gets sent to the floor. Enver turns you around, holding your wrists behind your back with just one hand as his other hand moves to place itself tightly over your mouth. You harshly bite down on his palm, even drawing blood.

Will you ever get over enjoying this? Oh no, never. It tastes so good—so sweet, purely divine.

Enver tries to get some distance between the two of you, but you swiftly retrieve the dagger from the floor and send a strong kick to Enver’s ribs. While blocking an attack from him, you use the opportunity to strike again—a large gash manifests on Enver’s shoulder. “My love, what about us? I believe in us. I’ll always do," he says while dodging one of your throwing knives. You click your tongue in annoyance and answer, “There is no ‘us’ in my devotion to my father, I’m afraid. This is what my urge desires. My sister is going to kill me if I don’t put this tragedy to a bloody end.”.

Precise and planned manoeuvres are executed by the both of you — it’s a dance with death itself! The Dead Three watch over you with curiosity. Who will win? Love or devotion?

You sent another strong kick towards Enver’s ribs, hearing a faint crack. Enver moves to get a hold of his injured ribs as you move elegantly around him to get in front of him. He musters up some strength to hold your right wrist as he poses a lazy smirk while you grab a hold of his shoulder. Seconds after seconds pass—it's like eternity. Both of you relish the short moment. Both of you relish the faint comfort of one another.

Did his lips always look this chapped? Perhaps from all the biting a few days ago... Did he always have this scar on his chin? It’s from your first encounter, when he first proposed the plan. Did he always have this scarlet glint in his black eyes? In some way, it represents you, one might think.

You try to send another kick to his stomach, but his right hand takes a hold of your thigh before it can meet its target. The cold steel of his glove presses against your thigh as he caresses it gently—a gentleness you’ve only ever known with him. You sigh, “Is this utter and real devotion?”. Enver chuckles with a knowing glint in his eye. “You can do as you are ordered by your father, but that won’t change the fact that you crave this. You desire to be this close to your sworn foe. The desire to defy your father.”. After a few seconds of contemplation, you ask, “Do you crave this?”. In a swift motion, you push him against the wall, your body closely up against his as you press your dagger against his throat. It’s just enough pressure to draw a small trickle of blood. Enver grins but doesn’t move to struggle against your advances as he calmly answers, “Ah, the dagger at my throat, now ‘that’ I miss. If I crave this, Of course, my dear, just as much as you do.”. His body moves against yours, now pressing you against the wall. Your wrists are being held in his strong hands. You struggle in his hold but then ask, “Does Bane approve of this?”. Enver chuckles and says, “He finds it amusing to say the least.”. He laughs and then whispers, “You’re my enemy—my sworn nemesis in a way. And yet, here we are, the two of us, fighting like this—skin against skin. It could be taken as an innuendo of some sort, don’t you think, my love?”.

You push him away and kick him to the ground. Enver still has a smile on his lips as he’s looking up at you. You slowly walk over to him and straddle him. With your dagger, first you run up his lower stomach, then his chest, and then his neck—just enough to slightly break the skin. In a moment, your knife is just a millimetre away, way from his right eye, before you slam it in the wooden floor next to his head—harshly at that. You watch him wordlessly, contemplating your actions. He moves to slightly sit up. “You had the chance to slay me, yet you hesitated," he remarks. You sigh and move to get up from your position as you murmur, “I’ve gotten weak. I should be ashamed to be my father’s child.”. “Weak or not," Enver whispers. “I find I like you weak," he grins. “And you’re not exactly weak... just distracted.” You answer him with bitterness, “Too distracted for my own good, I’m afraid..." “Your distraction is rather enticing.” Enver sighs as he stares up at you, his features soft and his voice gentle. You bite your lip and help him up. Enver wordlessly watches you with a smile and says, “You’re my nemesis, my most capable foe. But you’re also someone I admire and respect. Someone I find myself unable to hate. That’s what makes this fight so enticing to me.”. You look down and avoid his eyes as you mutter, “I should go. Father probably wants to see me.”. With a sigh, you start walking towards the door. Enver hums but then stops you by gently grabbing your wrist and saying, “Just one more thing... before you go..." His voice is soft, almost soothing to hear. “Should we fight again sometime, my love?”. You chuckle, enamoured by his proposition. “We most definitely should, my dear," you answer before slightly turning towards him to face him. You gently press a kiss to his chapped lips that lasted longer than it should have before whispering, “I’ll come by tomorrow... to continue this scarlet dance of ours, Enver~”. Enver softly laughs at that: “I’ll be waiting for you, my sweet assassin.”. One last smile at him, and you’re gone, on your way. Your devotion will be the thing that brings you down. Your devotion, or rather, the lack thereof.

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

Thank you for reading!! I hope you liked it :) This is my first time writing in a while so sorry if it’s a bit wonky heh- Kinda wanna make a part 2 now~

#gortash x reader #bg3 gortash #enver gortash #durgetash #bg3 durge #durge #gortash x durge #bg3 #bg3 x reader

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lovries · 1 year

Note

hey! Hope im not late.

May I have Lucifer with "How long have you been cheating on me?" and "What can I do to make it up to you?" prompt? Like Lucifer cheats on Mc and they just, no screaming, no fighting, just a cold stare, a only question question and finally they just leave taking their son with them and the son maybe hitting his dad (Lucifer)? sorry if its to specific and Thank you! And it's okay if you don't do it :D

⌜ Lucifer ⌟

11. "How long have you been cheating on me?"

32. "What can I do to make it up to you?"

warnings: gn! reader, parent! au ([s/n] = son's name), cheating.

You had tried to just ignore the thoughts that crept into the back of your mind when Lucifer wouldn't return until the early hours, the gut-wrenching feeling you'd get when he told you an obvious lie, the heartbreak of knowing he wasn't thinking of you when he looked at you. You had cried plenty of tears, too many tears, and now all you could do is stare blankly at the wall, your only reprieve being your son.

But you couldn't do this anymore, you couldn't pretend to be happy, pretend to not know. Entering the familiar home office, you made sure to lay your son down before confronting Lucifer. He didn't look up from his paperwork as you cleared his throat, only a hum of acknowledgement that stung harder than a bee.

"How long have you been cheating on me?"

Your words finally caught his attention, and he whipped his head up. His eyes were wide, shock evident on his face. "Wh... What are you talking about?" But what scared Lucifer the most was the plain, cold stare you held. Emotionless, you were exhausted.

"You heard me. How long have you been cheating on me? Do you think I don't know?" Lucifer frantically puts down his pen and rushes to the other side of his desk.

"I- It's not like that, okay, I love you, you know that, right? Right-"

"How. Long." You strain your voice, not wanting to get into an argument— not sure if you'd be able to handle a voice-raising argument.

"..." Lucifer sighs, running a hand through his hair. "A few months..." He's quick to try and find your eyes, "I didn't mean for you to find out, listen, you'll always-" His words get cut off by the sobs of his and yours son, him rushing in and pounding his little fists against his father.

"Wha- Did you tell him?" Lucifer looks pained, not wanting his son to see him like this, but it was too late. Your son had seen you sneak away to cry too many times, had noticed the strange behavior of his father...

"No! They didn't say anything! You're the big meanie!" Your son cries, and your ears are ringing. You try to bring your son towards you, but he is relentless on ragging on Lucifer.

"What can I do to make it up to you?" Lucifer begs, and had you been looking, you'd see tears in his eyes. He gets on to his knees, pulling you towards him, trying desperately to get you to look at him. Your son scoffs and tries to push his father off of you.

"Nothing, Lucifer. There is nothing you can do." You whisper, your eyes falling on your son, who's crying for you. "Well, there is one thing..." You pick up your son, stepping away from Lucifer who debates on crawling towards you, begging for your forgiveness. He knows he doesn't deserve it, but he craves it nonetheless. He loves you, or he used to, and he can't bear the idea of you leaving him. He'll break up with them, they didn't mean anything, but nothing he promises seems to capture your full attention, seems to make you believe him.

"Sign the paperwork I send you." Is the last thing you say, "I'll be staying with some family, and I'll be taking [S/n] with me." At the thought of signing divorce paperwork, Lucifer begins to plead in an unsightly manner, fighting for your attention, or any remaining bit of your love. But you don't say another word, simply taking your son and leaving.

#obey me x reader #obey me imagines #obey me headcanons #om x reader #om imagines #om headcanons #omswd x reader #omswd imagines #omswd headcanons #lucifer x reader #obey me angst #om angst #omswd angst #angst #x reader

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iguana-eyanna · 1 year

Text

I Mean It Every Time

Pairing: Bob Floyd x reader

Summary: Throughout the highs and lows of your life, Bob has been there every step of the way.

Warning: mentions/symptoms of cancer, hair loss

It was a Tuesday afternoon in April.

You were doing your annual physical, not thinking too much of it. They called you in to discuss your blood work, thinking it was just some regular check up.

You went into your doctor's office and you can see the saddened features on her face.

"There is no easy way to say this..."

Your ears began to ring. All you could do was sit still as you heard the words Stage 2 Leukemia. It was like a glass vase broke inside your mind, and you can feel every nerve in your body trying to move.

But you just sat there, eyes glossing over with tears.

You went back home, trying to make sense everything. You had to call your family since you didn't have many in the state and thought of your friends and work and -

'Oh God... Robert.' you thought, your breath thinning.

Robert Floyd, or known as Bob, was your boyfriend of 6 months. The relationship was fairly new, but he was the first person you've felt serious with. He felt the same way and already jokingly talked about getting married someday.

You take out your phone, opening your texts.

Can we meet up at our spot when you get out of work?

Less than two minutes, you saw him message back.

Sure thing, Hope everything went well today! ♥️

All you could do was cry seeing his words, scared of what's to come next.

It was almost 7 PM, and Bob just parked his car and walked over to the beach, already seeing you look out at the water.

He walks up to you at your side and was about to ask how your day went, but it looked like you were just crying. His features change and makes his voice softer.

"What happened?" he asks, with worry in his voice.

You take his hand in yours, feeling your throat close in yet again.

"Sit down with me?" You ask.

He didn't hesitate one bit. He sat down with you in his arms as you laid on his chest. What you loved most about Bob was that he was very patient, a skill he found most useful in his stressful job. He knew you'll tell him whatever's going on once you were ready.

The calmness of the water crashing on the sand and the heat of the sunset kissed your skin, you found the courage to turn around.

"I have Leukemia."

He was at a loss for words. He opened his mouth, trying to speak but he couldn't.

Some say actions speak louder than words. You didn't think it mattered until Bob hugged you tighter into his chest, as if he was trying to protect you.

Both of you broke down into tears. You broke into a sob, but Bob never let you go. A new fear crawled onto you, and that was losing him.

He looks down at you, holding your face in his hands.

"I swear to you, no matter what happens, I will be there for you."

You fold your lip inward, holding onto his arm.

"Bob, I'm scared. I don't know where this will go and- I don't want to be a burden."

Bob's heart broke a little as he heard the tremor in your voice "You're not going to lose me. I believe in us, and I believe in you."

He holds you again, letting you know that he meant his promise.

Over the next weeks, he was by your side at your chemo treatments. On the days you didn't feel great, he'll catch you up on the drama that's been happening at work.

"Maverick had to break up a fight between Rooster and Hangman." Bob said, placing a puzzle piece down by the table.

"Again? What now?" You ask, looking at a piece quizzingly.

"No clue, but Phoenix told me it involved them at Penny's bar with a girl they met."

"It's always a competition between them two." You said, rolling your eyes playfully while shaking your head. You soon regret it as you suddenly felt dizzy, placing your hand to your temple as you groaned.

"You're alright?" Bob whispers as he places a comforting hand by you.

You look up at him, trying to give him a small smile.

"I'm fine, just another migraine. C'mon, let's finish this puzzle." You said, trying to change the subject.

Bob knows not to be so overbearing, but he couldn't help it. All he wants to be is supportive of you during the treatments.

All he could do is give you a smile as you both continue the puzzle as he was still talking about work drama.

Over time, you realized that it was alright to be vulnerable with Bob. When your hair started falling out, you were a bit scared how'd he react after you shaved your head.

Your thoughts were interrupted when you heard knocking on the door. Bob was picking you up for a military celebration. You took a deep breath as you stare at yourself in the mirror.

"Here goes nothing." You said to yourself.

You walked over to the door and slowly open it, seeing Bob in his white uniform. You thought the worst was yet to come.

But all he did was stare at you with his big round eyes, lovingly.

"You look beautiful." He said, giving you a bouquet of flowers he was hiding behind his back.

All you could was slightly tear up, giving him a tearful chuckle.

"I wasn't sure how you'd react." You said.

"Baby, no matter how you look, I'll always say you're beautiful.... and I mean it every time."

You hug him tightly as he wraps his hands around your waist. He could hear you slightly hiccup, as you try to fight the tears.

Bob could feel his chest feeling heavy as he heard your sniffles, but he soothes your back. Life really threw so much at both of you when you were trying to get to know each other. Bob always saw you like this superwoman who could carry the weight of the world on her shoulders.

Now, it was his turn to hold you up.

You two soon left your house and went to the party where everyone greeted you. You felt comfortable and not once did you feel uneasy as Bob was there.

He headed to the bar, seeing Rooster and Hangman talk peacefully over some drinks.

"Hey, man." Hangman said, offering him a glass of champagne.

"Hi." Bob replied as he took the drink.

"How has she been?" Rooster asks.

Bob didn't know this till he shared about your diagnosis with his friends, but Bradley's mom passed away when he was younger as she had breast cancer. Bradley often gave Bob advice on how to handle tough situations during and after your treatments and also helped you guys out time to time.

"She's getting a lot better. The doctor told us that she's positive she'll make a full recovery."

"That's great man, I'm happy everything's working out." Jake said sincerely.

"She's the best fighter than all of us”

"Yeah, she definitely is." Bob said, smiling to himself.

He looks at you as you were talking with Phoenix. You look back at him, smiling at him. A fluttering sensation fills up his chest and something wakes up in him.

Out loud for only his friends to hear, he makes a promise that night.

"I'm going to marry her someday."

#robert bob floyd #bob floyd x reader #bob floyd #bob x reader #top gun maverick #top gun bob #robert floyd x reader #robert floyd #robert bob floyd x reader

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bi-bard · 1 year

Text

Stupid Mistakes - Duncan Vizla Imagine [Polar]

Title: Stupid Mistakes

Pairing: Duncan Vizla X Reader

Word Count: 1,357 words

Warning(s): Descriptions of violence, use of guns, injury, blood, kidnapping

Summary: People make stupid mistakes. It happens to everyone. However, not everyone will find that their stupid mistakes have deadly consequences.

Author's Note: I spent Valentine's Day watching a crap ton of Mads Mikkelsen projects. I don't know if that's a warning or a promise.

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

I was groggy when I woke up.

I blinked a few times, feeling an aching in my arms and shoulders. There were restraints around my wrists, holding me up above the floor.

I looked around at the room of guards before turning my attention to some woman in what was clearly a wig.

"Vivian?"

She just raised an eyebrow at my question.

"Good guess on my part," I muttered.

She scoffed and walked away, going to sit down in a chair.

One of the guards stepped forward and grabbed my chin. I stared at him. I refused to show weakness or fear.

"Been dying to see Duncan's sparkling diamond," the guard said as his grip tightened on my jaw. "He hid you well."

"I would let go of me," I replied through the hold on my face.

"Aw, what's wrong, do you not like me?"

I took a deep breath.

"Poor thing is scared. Don't worry. Once this is over, we'll take great care of you."

There were a few chuckles from those around him. I simply stared at him before quickly spitting in his face.

He quickly stepped back as he wiped his face. "Oh, you disgusting pig!"

"If he did so much to hide me, what do you think he'll do to protect me?"

The sound in the room stopped. Like it was suddenly much more tense than it had been. Had none of them even considered the possibility of him finding me?

"He's a little too... busy to come and save you," Vivian spoke up from her seat, clearly trying to calm the guards.

"How long do you think you'll be able to hold him after he finds out that you took me," I asked. "Considering psychological torture is part of your boss's plan... then there are photos of me here... like this? Truly a very stupid decision."

Again, silence.

"So, I'm right. Well then, you've all been making a lot of stupid mistakes."

I saw Vivian shift a bit in her seat.

"How long do you think I've been with Duncan?"

"Our records go back two years," she replied.

I nodded. "Interesting."

"Surprised that we know?"

"Not really. Surprised it took you this long to fuck up considering how long you've know."

She took a deep breath. I looked around the room.

"What do you think happens when you take away a man like Duncan's- what did you call it- sparkling diamond?"

None of the guards replied to me.

"Well, I'll tell you... nothing good."

"Shut your mouth," one of them snapped.

"Aw, are you getting scared? Y'know, Duncan always reminds me not to let myself get scared if I found myself in a situation like this. You make more mistakes when you're scared."

"I told you to shut your mouth!"

There was a gun in my face.

"Ooo, I wouldn't let him see you do that," I shook my head like I was a disappointed parent. "Poor thing, you are still making so many mistakes."

"Shut your fucking mouth, you-"

The shouting was cut off. The guard dropped dead in front of my feet. I sighed.

"I tried to warn you," I shrugged.

Another man fell.

I watched them frantically look around for a minute.

"Where is he," Vivian asked.

"I don't know, your boss was the one holding him captive," I replied.

The door slammed open a matter of seconds after the word left my mouth.

I ducked my head down as best I could as gunfire started ringing out. I squeezed my eyes shut. I was going to feel the ringing in my ears for weeks.

It all stopped. I didn't move. Not until I felt the restraints on my arms give way and I was placed back on the ground.

I knelt down as I saw Duncan fall to his knees. My heart broke at the sight of all of his injuries. He looked so exhausted. I touched the sides of his face.

I saw Vivian move over his shoulder.

I stood up, taking the gun from Duncan's hand. He held onto my free hand.

"Don't do something stupid," I warned. "You've made enough of those choices today."

"I have a job to complete," she replied. She had been hurt at some point. I could see it. "Look at him. It'll be just like putting down an old dog."

I let out a sharp breath through my nose. "Your records... of me... they're wrong."

"Doesn't matter now."

"But it does," I replied. "You said that your records showed a two-year relationship, yes?"

"Doesn't matter-"

"You missed a decade," I cut her off. Her eyebrows furrowed.

I smirked a bit before quickly lifting my arm and firing a shot. I watched her body fall to the ground.

"A lot of time to practice my shot."

I knelt back down in front of Duncan and put the gun down. I cupped his face again.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled. "I... I didn't want you to have to do that."

"I always thought I would," I shrugged. "One of the things I accepted when I decided to stay with you."

"You shouldn't have-"

"Stop," I shook my head. "I decided a long time ago that I wanted to be with you. Forever. I chose that. Because I love you. You aren't to blame for anything that happened. I chose this life; those people chose to take me. That's it."

His eyes closed and he leaned forward, his forehead touching mine.

"Let's go get you taken care of."

Duncan- while half-conscious- gave me instructions to find a friend of his. She took him in, took care of his wounds far better than I could have, and gave us a place to stay while he healed.

I sat on the bed next to him, staring at the number of bandages covering his body.

"How long have you two been together," his friend-Jazmin- asked.

"It'll be twelve years in a few months," I replied, turning to her. She seemed shocked. I chuckled. "He did a good job hiding me, I can see."

"I didn't think he'd allow himself to have something so... serious."

"He couldn't lose me," I shrugged, chuckling again. "He tried to keep me away at first, but I guess, time proved that it wasn't happening. And here we are."

"When did you find out?"

"God, I don't know... two years in? I think? I was mad that he kept it from me at first, but... I understood. He is... everything to me. He's my world. I understand that he wanted to keep me safe from it because I would've done the same thing. Because I love him."

She grinned and nodded.

She went about whatever she was working on, giving me some peace with Duncan. I wanted to reach over and hold his hand, but even that was bandaged up. It broke my heart.

I resigned myself to lying on my side next to him, watching his chest move with his breaths. The movement was the only sense of comfort I had. The only reassurance. I was going to cling to it.

I soon heard a groan come from Duncan.

I leaned up on my elbow so I could lean over him. "Hey..."

He blinked at me a few times. He went to move.

I carefully placed a hand on his chest. "Don't move. You have a lot of shit in your system. Just stay still."

He slowly nodded.

I grinned.

"I... I didn't tell you earlier," he muttered. I furrowed my eyebrows. "I love you too."

I chuckled, leaning over to press a kiss to his cheek. "Trust me, I am well aware... but having you keep saying it is very tempting."

"I love you," he whispered. I rolled my eyes. "I'll say it as many times as you want."

"Rest first... and then I'll torment you by holding you to that promise."

"Could never torment me."

"Oh, don't tempt me."

I kissed his lips gently, pushing him back when he tried to follow me. I laid my head back down on the pillow next to him.

I knew that he was still blaming himself for what happened in that place. I could see it on his face, as much as he tried to hide it. I think he knew that he couldn't hide anything from me anymore, but he still tried.

It was his stupid mistake. I was just more forgiving than he was.

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#duncan vizla imagine #duncan vizla fanfiction #duncan vizla x reader #polar imagine #polar fanfiction #polar x reader #mads mikkelsen imagine #mads mikkelsen x reader #mads mikkelsen fanfiction #polar 2019 imagine #polar 2019 fanfiction #polar 2019 x reader #fanfiction #imagine #x reader

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copperbadge · 2 years

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sam, as someone who professionally stalks rich people for fun and profit and therefore have long term observational data on them as a class, how likely is it that the mess that is twitter is musk trying to get out of the loans that are pulling tesla down via bankruptcy, and relatedly, considering that he's obviously doing all the value tanking on his own either through incompetence or malice, how likely is it that it'd end up a bankruptcy fraud case?

The problem is that by the time people get to where Elon Musk is now, most nonprofits have "disqualified" them. It's not that we won't take meetings with them or take their money, but we won't go out of our way to solicit it unless we are willing to take that PR hit. So I haven't researched many people who are malignant supervillains in quite the public way Elon Musk is. War criminals, yes; incredibly unethical finance guys, tons; active public fuckups like Elon Musk? Not as much. So I'm actually less well-educated in this kind of situation than one might think.

I have researched numerous finance guys who were convicted of financial misconduct. They fight it every step up to a point, they do everything possible to seem conventional and innocent...and they take their medicine quietly when it becomes obvious they're going to have to, so that they don't create a three-ring circus and endanger future investments by making too much noise. They get banned for three or five or eight years, and then they either get a shell to do their work for them or they take a three year vacation and then come back and quietly start up again.

As opposed to Elon Musk, who’s just like “I’m not afraid of the FTC. Come at me bro” and then shrieks like a child when they do.

It's actually really difficult to tell what Musk is doing deliberately and what is just overwhelming incompetence. Like, how the fuck do you get where Twitter is this morning without doing it deliberately? But there’s no overestimating human stupidity, its well is bottomless.

I don't subscribe to the Four Dimensional Chess theory that this was planned from the beginning. Musk tried too hard to squirm out of the deal, and he's much, much too sensitive about the way people have seen his actions, for me to think this is part of some master plan. He's also kind of a dumbass. But I'm not sure he's the extreme dumbass he's coming across as, either. It’s hard to know. The second he was forced to buy Twitter, I suspect either he realized, or someone close to him casually said, "You know, you can buy an asset, load it with debt, and dump it, especially if society values it highly enough to want it back from you." So what he's doing now might be deliberate even if it didn’t start out that way.

On the other hand, I have my doubts, because every time he fucks Twitter up he does seem to be demanding someone else fix it. Tanking the value of an asset deliberately generally goes smoother than this to be honest. And I don't credit him as being canny enough to seem this random in order to fool the authorities that he's not committing fraud. So I lean, slightly, towards “Oh he’s just a real dumbass who’s not used to things not going his way.” but I can’t say with confidence that this is the case.

I am also not following this as closely and breathlessly as some, so what I know of the situation is generally osmoted from daily headline reading and whatever crosses my dash on tumblr. I'm not buried in the specifics, so this is coming from a very distant view of what's happening. If he does declare bankruptcy for Twitter, I think there will be a fraud case regardless, because it's such a huge asset and he took it down so fast -- and he himself was so mired in debt -- that there has to be. You can’t just accept it. But I don't think he'll get convicted, if push comes to shove. I think probably there is a large bailout somewhere in his future, because that's just how life seems to roll these days.

I suppose we'll see. Sorry, this is a very ambiguous answer, but I'm working on like 3/4 of the knowledge I'd have if I was asked to do this for work, and I'd do more research but I'm real tired of seeing his incredibly punchable face.

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biscuit-munchies · 2 months

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Hi! I just found your PLA Paul AU and I'm loving it! I feel so terrible for poor Reggie, and Brandon too! :'(

It's made me think though, how would Paul & Brandon react if it was Reggie who disappeared?

How would Paul deal with Reggie just..being gone?

I've had this thought in mind since PLA came out, sorry if the question is weird tho =w=

Also I really enjoy your art! x3

OOOOOHHHHHH you done got my brainworms acting up again! Also im glad you enjoy my art lol >v< Strap in cause this is gonna be a LOOOONG post! OK SO! Here's how it would go: Paul would be traveling around, searching for pokemon with strong EVs and IVs (yknow, the usual) and like all similar trips he would check in. Paul and Reggie would usually check in like once a week when paul would reach a pokemon center, but Paul hadn't been near one in a while so he thought Reggie would call him on the phone today.

It's been quite a while since Reggie called him (he didn't realise that it was that long) So he tries to call Reggie back. It rings, no answer. He tries again, still nothing. Paul's a little confused but shrugs it off, thinking that his brother is just busy or something and that he'll call him back. So his journey continues, walking along different routes and catching some promising pokemon, but his mind would always wander back to his phone. He eventually reaches a pokemon center and tries to call Reggie that way, and he STILL doesn't pick up. His guts churn a little in concern, Reggie isn't one to forget things like this as he's gotten on Paul's ass about checking in more than once. Paul tries not to worry and think logically as he eventually boards the plane back to Sinnoh. Maybe Reggie is just really busy this time around and forgot to turn his ringer on. Maybe Reggie's phone broke somehow. Maybe Reggie just doesn't want to call him.

Paul sighs to himself, maybe he was just overreacting and his brother was just abscent-minded about the whole thing. He then heads back to Veilstone City with a little pep in his step, thinking of ways snark on his brother about the whole calling thing. Paul would climb the small steps to the porch of their home and he opens the door, ready to yell to his brother in the home. Only...

The house was absolutely trashed. Paul could not believe what he was seeing. There's no way that the house was- He drags his feet along the dirtied floor, furniture was knocked over, many dishes were either left in the sink or strewn about the floor in pieces. He looked out into the backyard- Where was all the pokemon Reggie was raising? It was like someone... someone broke in and- Paul could feel his heart start to race as his trudge turns into a brisk pace as he goes through the entirety of the house. Calling out to his brother as he tried to keep his voice steady. "Reggie? Reggie! Where are you?"

The bathroom. His Room. Reggie's Room. The Kitchen. The Living Room- The Living Room? Paul stopped. Then raced towards his backpack to get his phone in a frenzy and called the police. The Living Room floor was covered in blood.

After the police arrived, Paul went into autopilot, more out of shock if anything. The officers asked him different questions he didn't care to remember, and it was only when a familiar voice piped through the crowd. "Paul? Boy, are you alright?" Paul looks up from the ground to see a broad green suit right in front of him. "...Brandon?" He asks hesitantly. After that day, Brandon took Paul in as Paul couldn't stay at the Tobari house anymore (with it being a crime scene and paul can't pay mortgages off). Arceus, Brandon worried that the police would make Paul a ward of the state but was relieved to know that Reggie put Brandon down as a surrogate guardian to Paul. (my little head canon don't worry bout it ;P).

Paul seemed to completely close himself up, seemingly not wanting to believe that Reggie was now a missing person. He doesn't sleep much, doesn't eat much, and seems to get annoyed or angry at every little thing now. Brandon worries about him.

Paul doesn't want to talk about what happened at all, for he is angry at the world for taking away his big brother. Paul thinks that if he ignores the problem, that it'll go away andReggiewillcomebackand saysorryforleavinghimbehindandPaulcouldsaysorryfor-. But, as feelings do, his emotions reach a boiling point.

It was supposed to be a 'meh' day, Paul didn't know why Brandon tried to confront him about his self-destruction coping mechanisms. Things got heated, and Paul snapped back at him in a visceral rage.

"Why do you care, of all people?!" "So what if he's gone?! It's not like I care! It's not like he cared!" "It's pathetic of him to go missing like that! He had competent pokemon to protect him!" "How did no one notice the house was trashed until then?! Did nobody care to check?!" "Why didn't you check on him?!"

Paul went on his tirade for Arc knows how long, letting all his frustrations out in the open. He probably didn't know the magnitude of what he was saying, nor did he care. His tantrum continued on until he was out of breath. He was never like this, being this emotional, and Brandon just stood there with a knowing expression.

"So what if I wasn't there for him?! So what if he's hurt somewhere?! So what if I-"

"If- If I wasn't-"

"If I wasn't a good enough brother to him...?"

Paul hangs his head low, his figure lightly shaking as tears fell from his cheeks. He just uttered the thing that has been eating at him for weeks. How pathetic he is, saying that in the open, to Brandon of all people. He expects Brandon to reprimand him for saying those horrible things, what he doesn't expect is arms wraping around him in comfort. Paul stiffens and looks up hesitantly, that knowing sad look still on the elder's face. No matter how mature Paul acts or how grown up and knowing he thinks he is.

He's still a little kid.

For Brandon, it eats away at him to see Paul like this. Brandon and the rest of the frontier brains went through something similar.

When Anabel dissapeared.

For Paul to be going through this as he is... Arceus... He'd never dream of it. And yet, here they are.

They stay like that for several minutes before moving to the couch. They sit in silence before Paul whispers a quiet "m'sorry..." "For what?" Brandon answers, A Pause.

"...for sayin' those things t' you... you didn' deserve that.." He moves his head up slowly, eyes red rimmed from tears. "That was pathetic of me to do.. m'sorry."

"Don't worry about it, boy... I'm just glad you're lettin' it out now." Brandon cracks a small smile to him. "We'll get through this, you and I, so don't worry about it." . HOLY FUCK that was long, I basically made a psudo-fanfic right here lmfao. So yeah hope you enjoy!!

#pla:paul au #would it be pla:reggie au instead?#ahh aus aus #paul pokemon #pyramid king brandon #brandon pokemon #angst angst and more angst #ask post #LOOOOONG ask post #hope you like my writing lol #they are really going through it im sorry #I should draw a pla:reggie au reggie #I do have a design #text post

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mintjamsblog · 11 months

Text

Phone call

Tommy/Alfie (+Cyril) drabble

It's gone 2 am when his phone rings, late enough that he knows nothing good'll come of answering. Private number the screen says. He hesitates, and swipes right with one hand pressed over his eyes.

There's silence at the other end, heavy and deliberate. He shouldn't have bloody well picked-up, but since when did shouldn't matter? Teeth clenched, he listens whilst a familiar weight settles itself in his stomach. Slowly he reaches over to mute the black and white war film he's been watching. He's long since lost the plot, having dozed on and off through most of it. Easy enough to guess the ending, they're all the bloody same — victory mixed with grief mixed with a dose of moral high ground. He leans back on the leather sofa to wait.

Beside him, Cyril opens his eyes and raises his chin a little. Alfie shakes his head in response — I know, mate, I fuckin' know. Cyril slumps back down on his paws. It's late, and Alfie's tired, and he ought to hang up right now. Never fucking does though, does he?

He tucks the phone into his shoulder and laces his hands together, stretching his arms out in front of him until the knuckles crack loudly.

Over his shoulder, in the kitchen, a little red clock on the oven indicates ten past. He watches the seconds blink, counts them in his head as if he suspects the digital display is trying to cheat him. It isn't. Time ticks by just as slowly as it always bloody does.

"Right then," he says when the minutes have clicked over to eleven. "Time you went out, Cyril."

He puts his phone onto speaker and sets it on the coffee table. There's movement at the other end of the line, a shuffling sound and breaths. Still there then.

Cyril's reluctant to move from his spot; it's cold outside and he has no desire to leave the warmth of the sofa. Alfie grabs hold of his collar and hauls him over the edge. Cyril moves like a sack of potatoes, waiting until the last bloody second to plant his feet on the rug. One of these days he'll forget to bother and land like a seal on his belly, looking pretty fucking embarrassed.

"Oi," Alfie curses mildly. "Mind me fucking feet!"

There's another noise from the coffee table. Footsteps, perhaps, the rhythm scuffed and uneven. Alfie takes Cyril to the back door and shoves him into the garden. "That's it, go sniff out some rats. Do yer fuckin' business."

He slides the door closed and peers out, watching Cyril plod towards the shed. As he steps back he catches sight of himself in the door — it's dark inside and out, and so the television flickers both behind him and in front of him, reflected in the black glass. He looks like a ghostly figure trapped between two realms — hair stuck out at all angles, fingers entwined at the back of his head. He really should hang up. Put an end to this fucking charade.

He will. When Cyril comes in.

There's a deep cough and a slurred word from the coffee table. Alfie doesn't turn, he watches the phone screen flicker in the glass, as if seeing it in reverse somehow means he ain't complicit.

"M'sorry," the phone-voice says, and Alfie closes his eyes, holds his hands briefly over his ears.

"Tommy" —he turns back towards the room— "go the fuck to bed, alright?"

The line goes quiet once more, save for the distinctive slosh of liquid against glass. "I know you don't wanna hear it."

Oh how much Alfie wishes that were true. He squats in front of the little screen, rests his head in his hands. How many nights has he spent searching for an explanation he could stomach? Bargaining with unknown gods for Tommy to deliver anything close to a palatable excuse? He listens to Tommy swallow. His heart feels like a butterfly being squashed by a giant fist.

"S'true. I'm so fucking sorry. If I could just ... if I could go back, Alfie—"

Alfie stands too suddenly. Strides away, black spots speckling his vision. He wrenches open the back door. "Cyril!" he bellows into the night. "Get your arse back in here." His skin feels hot in the gush of cool air. His pulse unaccountably fast. He slams the door and locks it, ushering Cyril towards the stairs. "Bed!" he barks at the dog. Cyril makes his way out to the hall, obedient in the way he only is when he likes the order.

The phone remains silent as Alfie checks the kitchen window, locks the front door, turns off the TV. He glares at the coffee table, willing Tommy to speak. Or not to speak. He doesn't fucking know. He picks the phone up, thumb hovering over the power button. It's a simple enough fucking thing: switch it off, go to bed.

"Don't go." Tommy's voice is a whisper, so quiet it makes Alfie jump.

"Go to sleep, Tommy," he sighs and takes the phone upstairs. Cyril has already settled down at the foot of his bed, in the dark.

"Can't," comes Tommy's voice, thick and tired and undercut with that little thread of defiance that Alfie's too weary to deal with.

"Well some of us have to, mate." He puts the phone on his bedside without turning on the lamp — the shroud of darkness makes all of this somehow more deniable. He pulls off his clothes and shuffles beneath the duvet, the silence hammering at his ears.

"Good night." He means to sound final, but his voice is too soft, too quiet.

"Leave your phone on."

"Tommy. This has got to stop."

"Please."

"Why do you only ring me when you're out of your fucking tree?" He doesn't expect an answer. Doesn't get one neither.

"Please. Alfie."

"Fuck's sake. Five minutes, alright?" He turns over, closes his eyes.

Next thing he knows, it's light and there's a sick feeling in his stomach. He reaches out for his phone; the screen is black, the battery dead. He tucks it under his chin.

At the bottom of the bed Cyril huffs and rolls over, but refuses to take his usual spot on the other pillow. He peers up at Alfie with a disapproving look.

"I know, mate." Alfie sighs. "I fuckin' know, alright?"

Or read it on A03

#tommy/alfie #tommy x alfie #tofie #tomfie #sholomons #why has these fandom still not agreed on a name for this pairing?#my fic

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legolasghosty · 6 months

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Hello, I heard you say that people don't send you many asks anymore, that needs to be changed immediately!!

Can I request a high school au with sticky notes? Something short and fluffy?

Okay, love you, byeeee!!! 💖💖💖

Gentlepeople of the world, may I present my lovely fiance? I love you so muchhhh! Thank youuuu! And yes of course you may! I love me some sticky notes!

Willie catches one glimpse of Julie on her way to class and reaches for the pad of sticky notes in their backpack. Her hunched shoulders and oversized blue and black flannel(probably Ray's) illustrate how she's feeling more than any words could. No time to catch her in the passing period, but he can probably get to her locker before she does after history.

They slide into their seat just as the bell rings. Reggie shoots him a smile from his spot a few seats over. Willie returns it, and doesn't miss the big A written at the top of the quiz Mr. Hood hands him a minute later. Willie's only has a B+, but he's happy with it. Mr. Hood starts talking about some club thing after that, so Willie sets his pad of sticky notes down just inside their desk to write. They have a few to write since this morning.

A hype up note for Julie, along with a dumb joke to make her smile on her bad day.

A good luck note to Carrie for her dance performance this afternoon.

A congrats note to Reggie for his history grade, which Willie knows he worked hard for.

A reminder to Luke that they're all doing dinner at the Molinas' tonight, cause he always forgets that kind of thing.

Willie's not sure when exactly it became A Thing, them writing notes to their friends and leaving them in their lockers throughout the day. His dad is probably to blame for the start of it. Caleb started putting notes in his lunchboxes less than a year after Willie had come to live with him. Usually reminders about appointments or best wishes for tests, but sometimes they just said "I love you" in the magician's curly, elegant handwriting.

So when Willie finally made friends, it only made sense to start writing the same notes to them.

He carefully folds the notes and tucks them into his pocket for later. As fun as it would be to ask for a bathroom pass and just happen to pass all his friends' lockers on the way, they'd gotten in trouble for that a couple of times already this year. He should probably try and pay attention.

After class finally ends, they dart out of the room. He's not sure he'll be able to get everyone before they reach their lockers, but he's certainly going to try.

When he's finished and stops for a second at his own locker, Willie is greeted by Alex's soft smile as the drummer leans against his own locker. Willie doesn't dare press his own lips against Alex's, they aren't really out as a couple at school, but they return his grin and brush their fingers against his on the way to his locker handle.

"How was history?" Alex asks.

"Same old," Willie responds with a shrug. "Bunch of straight white guys making up rules and ruining everyone else's lives."

"Youch, sounds like fun," Alex says sarcastically just as Willie swings his locker open.

Willie steps back, startled, as a bunch of slips of paper fall out of their locker. They're all little squares, uniform in size if not in color. And now they're on the floor all around their feet.

"Whoops," Alex mutters, dropping to his knees and starting to gather the papers.

Willie quickly joins him on the floor and scoops up a few of the slips. It takes the two of them a minute to gather them all. Just as they finish, the bell rings.

Alex swears under his breath and hands his stack of paper to Willie. "I gotta get to class, sorry," he says, offering a smile before hurrying off.

Willie stuffs the papers into his back pocket and slams his locker shut. At least he's already close to their English classroom. A quick dash later, he's sliding into his seat just as the teacher calls his name for roll call.

With trying to pay attention in class and not get distracted by the spring leaves on the tree outside, Willie totally forgets about the papers until study hall, his last period of the day.

They shift in their chair for the millionth time, trying to get comfortable. Their pocket just feels weird underneath him. Willie reaches back to make sure some old receipt didn't end up in there or something. But instead he finds a bunch of colorful sticky notes.

Willie frowns down at the crumpled slips. Sure, he slips notes into people's lockers all the time, but he doesn't get them back much. And never this many at once. He starts laying them out across his desk, grateful for a teacher who mostly ignores them the whole period.

Each paper has a single letter on it, which was odd, but they're all written in a very familiar hand. Willie smiles softly. Alex's awkward fumbling for them suddenly makes a lot more sense.

The letters are P, W, O, M, T, H, E, I, another M, and R, with a ? on the final note. Willie grins at the challenge and begins rearranging them into words. The worm? Moth prim? Their Mom?

Oh.

Willie feels like his heartbeat can probably be heard by the whole school as they fumble for their own notepad.

YES, I would LOVE to go to prom with you!!!! they write on the little blue paper. Though maybe this one can be a hand delivery, rather than being slipped into Alex's locker. It is the end of the day after all. No use leaving their boyfriend on pins and needles any longer.

Willie carefully tucks Alex's notes into a folder, probably looking like an idiot for how wide he's grinning but not caring in the slightest. Alex just asked him to prom! Which means coming out together. Being them. For the whole school to see.

Willie can't wait.

#legolas tag #julie and the phantoms #jatp #jatp fanfic #willex #alex mercer #willie jatp #they're so soft #I love them so muchhhh #thank you again Linden for this prompt!!!#a promposal wasn't my original plan #but I am NOT mad about it!#I have a Willex obsession it's fine

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like-rain-or-confetti · 9 months

Text

The wrath of Jonathan Crane

WARNING: I cant find the warnings so this has MATURE, DARK CONTENT. There are themes of mental health/illness, mentions of suicide and grief. DO NOT READ if these themes will cause any triggers and/or distress.

Edward walked Jonathan to Jonathan's front door. Jonathan's expression empty as he turned the keys. "Are you going to be okay? I can stay if you need some company." Jonathan shook his head with a smile. "I'll be absolutely fine, Edward. Thank you for the concern." Jonathan replied. Edward nodded. "Well, if you need us at any time, pick up the phone. Any time." "Thanks." Jonathan replied. "Thank everyone for coming, please?" Jonathan asked. "Of course. Although i think we all know and were honoured to be there." Edward responded. Edward squeezed Jonathan's shoulder comfortingly before turning back towards the car in which Harvey waited in the drivers seat. He raised his hand to Jonathan who sent him a nod.

Jonathan turned closing the door behind him. The lights off, the house silent. Without warning, Jonathan threw his keys against the wall. They clattered to the ground but Jonathan simply walked into the kitchen shrugging off his coat and tossing it onto the nearby couch. A major difference to his usual routine of hanging up his jacket.

That night he stared at the empty side of the bed. Your side. It was cold and as Jonathan ran his hand along the sheets, he felt a lump in his throat. His wedding ring, glinted in the moonlight that peeked between the curtains.

A week later he changed the bed sheets. Taking your pillow cases and sealing them into a bag before putting them in a closet. He purposefully avoided looking at your clothes. He knew the time was coming to do something with your things. Pictures of you were scattered around the place. Atleast one in every room. It kept the feeling of you being around alive. Even if you weren't. Eventually, Jonathan stopped avoiding it and called Harley.

"I considered getting help from Edward until I remembered he was Edward and I'm not in the mood to hear how his royal highness has better things to do." Jonathan said flatly and Harley giggled as she stepped by him and into the apartment. Jonathan led Harley to his bedroom. Harley caught sight of the picture of you and Jonathan at his bedside. One of many wedding pictures. She smiled as she moved closer bending down slightly to get a better view. "I've never seen you so happy than I did on your wedding day, Jonny." Harley smiled at the picture. "That's because that was the happiest day of my life, Harley." Jonathan replied turning to the dressers. "If you want anything of theirs or think someone else would. Go ahead and take it. Better start with that." Jonathan told her. "Maybe we should start with what you want to keep, Jonathan." She suggested. "I don't know if I could Harley." Jonathan replied. "I can't decide if it's too painful to part with their stuff or keep it." Jonathan looked to the ground. "Hey," Harley moved to his side. "We're in this together. One piece at a time." She said gently. "Now, let's call Ed. He's the tech guy. He'll get their photos and anything else that are good memories. If he squeals then I'll kick the shit out of him for you." She finished and Jonathan hummed in amusement. "Much obliged." Jonathan looked down at his wedding ring. He wasn't really certain what to do with it. Harley noticed. "You know you don't have to get rid of that." Harley nodded to his wedding ring. "Lots of people keep them." "I know." Jonathan replied. "I told many patients that very same thing. I never understood it. It was just a bit of jewellery yet here I am now...I don't even so much stomach the thought of taking it off." "So keep it on."Harley shrugged. "Your heart still belongs to (Y/N)." "Nothing will ever change that." He shot her a smile. "So that's it then. If you want to wear that ring for the rest of your life then you do it!" She said.

It wasn't often when some of Gotham's criminals were all in the same room. However, the Bat had that ability to bring them together. Although very few could understand why they were meeting Victor Fries. Until Oswald pocketed something Victor held out of him. Ironically, the room was always icy when Victor Fries was around. Many with common sense walked on egg shells around him. Even Jonathan was careful with his responses. Although since you died, Jonathan didn't have the energy or patience to do such a thing. Naturally, all Victor was interested in was Nora. Jonathan spoke up making everyone on edge and stiff. "How long were you and Nora married? Before her condition that is." Jonathan asked. Asking Victor about his wife was dangerous territory. She was off limits and his only ambition was to save her. This often meant bad news for any who so much mentioned her. Fries considered the fellow criminals unworthy of even uttering her name. "Fourteen years." Victor replied, his gaze narrowing on Jonathan. Jonathan nodded the side of his lips curled into a small smile seemingly at the thought. "I didn't get that long." Jonathan remarked. He smiled but it was a bitter one. His tone daring anyone to utter so much of one wrong word. No one said a word. You and Jonathan had been married for nearly three years. The mark a mere three months away.Now, no one was really certain who to be more wary about Victor or Jonathan. "My deepest condolences, Dr Crane." Victor spoke with a monotone voice. Jonathan didn't respond and simply turned away.

Later that night, Jonathan felt the loneliness more than he had before. You absence was in the very air he breathed and couldn't be evaded. The living room was dark, illuminated only by the TV. Jonathan sat on the couch, a glass of red wine in hand. Your wedding video played. It had been you that was eager for a wedding video. Jonathan didn't care for one. He found the pictures enough but figured it wouldn't hurt. It wasn't like money was an issue. It felt so very long ago. Maybe even a dream. A dream that he had to eventually wake up from. He didn't remember dreams being so painful when they're gone. He raised his glass to his lips, mumbling to himself quietly before the glass would touch his lips. "To us, darling."

Harley and Edward practically dragged Jonathan out for drinks with them along with Penguin and Two-Face. They succeeded as it cost more energy to refuse than just drag him along. After all, this was hardly for his comfort. It was for their own comfort for his grief.

Humans are never taught how to live uncomfortably. Discomfort is always something that must be changed as quick as possible or the more that person suffers. It made them feel better that he was there tonight because then they don't have to fear being terrible friends or that Jonathan would be the next to go. He had little doubt such thoughts rushed through their minds.

"He's tinkering away with those little hats and he won't listen to how childish they are!" Edward exclaimed. "You can make plenty of those without all that bravado! That's coming from me! Style is a flare for detail but shouldn't be used to hinder your successes!" "So we'll know who's being controlled by the top hats on their heads?" Harvey spoke. "Exactly!" Edward exclaimed again. "He wouldn't listen to me. He got angry even! He should be thanking me for my wisdom!" Edward jabbed the table. "It's Jervis Tetch! He's hardly the next criminal mastermind." Penguin dismissed with a flick of his wrist. "Not with the hats." Harley giggled. "Oh!" She perked up before turning to Jonathan. "I can collect the rest of (Y/N)'s stuff in a couple of days if you want." "Certainly." Jonathan sighed. "Wait, you cleared their stuff?" Edward raised an eyebrow. "Yes. Enough time has passed." Jonathan nodded. "Shit. Good on you." Harvey began. "I couldn't so much as look at anything of Gilda's if I saw anything left behind. Not for a year." "Yes, well, I felt it was time." Jonathan lied. There was no way to be ready for that. "It was becoming difficult to move on with all of their stuff around." "So you're going to stay in that apartment? Honestly, I thought you'd want to get the hell outta there." Penguin spoke. "It was my apartment before I even met (Y/N).I've been there longer than they were." Jonathan replied. "I think about that a lot." Harley mumbled, her gaze locked on the table. "How they could have such an impact on my memory of your apartment. How it's not right without them in it."

Jonathan's jaw set momentarily before he spoke. "Here's what I think about." Jonathan began, sitting forward in his seat. "I was a fucking psychiatrist for eight years. I dealt with people who were suicidal from all walks of life. So how didn't I see it in (Y/N)? How did I miss it?" Edward and Harley looked at each other, the two thinking the same thought. "Maybe you were too close? There's a reason doctors don't treat their loved ones." Edward tried. Jonathan blinked. "Okay." He turned his head to Harley. "Harley, you were also a psychiatrist but you didn't share a life with them. Tell me, did you see it coming? Was my (Y/N) suicidal?" Jonathan's question was blunt. Most wouldn't be able to think of such a thing or dance around it. Tell themselves something to make it better. However Jonathan had dealt with pain so many times that he had no trouble speaking his mind. "Jonathan-" Edward began. "I was asking Harley." Jonathan cut him off with a cold stare. He looked back at Harley, jaw tight. "Did you?" Harley looked at him uncomfortably for a moment before she responded. "No." She said meekly. "I had no clue." "That makes both of us." He smiled cheerfully, but it didn't meet his empty eyes making him more intimidating. Although it was worse knowing it wasn't genuine and given the topic, it was actually masking his fury. "That's not unheard of Jonathan." Edward spoke. Jonathan shook his head with a sigh, sitting back in his chair. "It fucking eats at me. It's not right. It can't be. I should have been the first person to see the signs so what does this mean? I have no idea. No fucking idea." He smiled as though joking, leaning forward and tapping the table as he spoke. "Makes you wonder though, doesn't it? What else I didn't know?" His smile faltered as his gaze met Edward's, a shaky breath leaving Jonathan. "I want to know." Jonathan told him quietly. Edward, for the first time in a long time, was speechless.

Harley and Edward took Jonathan home. "You didn't have to do this. As I have already told you." Jonathan tossed his keys on the counter. "And as I told you, Johnny, I'm doing it with or without your permission." Harley chirped before flopping onto his couch beside him seconds after he sat down. "Now I gotta congratulate you. You stunned Eddie back there." Harley giggled and Jonathan smirked slightly. "Who knew it was possible." Jonathan replied. "Too right who knew, I kind of wish I took a picture of him!" She giggled. "Shut up the two of you!" Edward huffed closing the door behind him.

Harley giggled, eyes drifting to Jonathan. She did a double take on Jonathan before wrapping her arm around Jonathan's shoulder. "Seriously though, between you and me. You know we have your back right?Don't try to hide from us, Johnny. We know how much they mean to you." "Meant." Jonathan corrected. "No. Mean." Harley retorted. "Just because they died, doesn't mean you get to stop caring the second they're gone. You're hurt because you love them." "Surprisingly not the most idiotic thing you've said, Harley." Edward mused. "Motherfucker, I have a PH-fucking-D!" Harley snapped. "I know. That's why is so surprising that you can be so stupid." Edward responded dryly. "Don't you two start in my home." Jonathan sighed. "He started it!" Harley said loudly. Edward was about to protest when Jonathan covered Harley's mouth and then Edward's. "Both of you. At least wait until I'm asleep before you start acting like children." Harley rolled her eyes with a muffled "fine." Edward following suit. Jonathan dropped his hands. "I just...not even that very day did they?" Edward trailed off with a sigh. Jonathan seemed to understand what Edward was asking. After all, just about every fitting question, he had already thought about a million times by now. He dug into his pocket. "The last text I got from them was that they would be ten minutes late getting home so we might have been late going to the Iceberg Lounge to meet you." Jonathan's eyes were glued to Edward's, eyes wide in an intense stare. "That's it?" Edward asked quietly. Once again, Jonathan smiled in amusement. "Mmhmm." He nodded, swallowing thickly, unable to trust his voice momentarily. "No 'kiss kiss, your loving spouse', nothing. So do I try to sit and pretend that my spouse killed themselves and didn't even give an explanation why or a goodbye? That I understand any of that?" "I..." Edward trailed off. "I don't know." Edward grimaced at his own words, like the gave him a bad taste in his mouth. Jonathan smiled teasingly. "Well I'll be damned. Finally stumped you." Jonathan chuckled to himself. "Maybe there's no right answer for right now." Harley finally said. "It's hard and it's annoying but it is what it is." Jonathan rolled his eyes.

Night after night, he never could wrap his head around why you would do such a thing. You showed no signs, nor did you even get your affairs in order. This was such a fleeting decision. That was plausible but only with the context of feeling suicidal. Why would you talk about a future that you wouldn't be a part of? Knowingly? This was something that could have driven him to madness. He was missing a piece of the puzzle. Something brought you to that point and with that knowledge, all of this would make sense. He was certain of that.

Jonathan decided one morning to visit your grave. He hadn't been there since the funeral, unable to face the slab with your name engraved. Almost as though facing it would be to accept you were gone and he wasn't there yet. Not enough to move on by any means. He grew wary of the day he would be able to move on. He reckoned it'd come quickly given his isolating conditions of his mind. It was hard enough work to care for someone when they're alive. Trying to care for their memory in death was that much harder. Deep down, he was the mourning husband but to really show it... it'd only be a performance. Something he had no patience for. So if he seemed cold, withdrawn or uncaring when it came to his late spouse, well, so be it.

He was surprised to find he wasn't alone in the idea. In fact, someone had beaten him to it. "Jervis?" Jonathan called out as he moved towards the man standing over your grave, his hands in his pockets. "Mr Crane!" Jervis jumped. "I do apologise, I was lost in thought." "No need to fret...I'm just surprised to find you here." Jonathan replied. Jervis gave him a half-sad smile. "Indeed. I wanted to pay a visit to my friend, pay my respects." Jonathan scrutinised how Jervis looked fondly at the grave. As though it was you. It was another thing he observed of human behaviour. To him it was just stone. Yet to Jervis, it was a mark of the person you once were, never to be forgotten. That was peculiar, given you were married to Jonathan, yet Jervis seemed to show more emotion to your loss in a more consistent manner whereas Jonathan could not. "I haven't seen you around much." Jonathan stated flatly. "I've been keeping my distance." Jervis admitted. "I figured we have all the time in the world and given how much attention you've been getting from our friends. I thought you may appreciate the space." Truth be told, Jonathan was indifferent to being left alone by Jervis and bombarded by the others. Each meant nothing to him. However Jonathan was rather confused by Jervis' words. When someone dies, you hardly come to the conclusion that you'd have all the time in the world. Instead, most would be reminded of how brief life is and that you could lose anyone at anytime. Death waited for no one when time runs out. It had to be Jervis' confusion or perhaps his nerves as he made meaningless conversation in the very awkward company of a grieving Jonathan Crane. "How have you been?" Jervis asked lightly. "With all of this, I mean." He added. Jonathan exhaled. "Everyday is a new challenge." Jonathan replied. "I'd say I'm functioning but I'm by no means doing well." Jervis nodded. "That is understandable." He took a breath. "Try not to dwell too much, yes? I understand that will be very improbable but do what's best and let them rest." Jervis replied. "What do you reckon, Jervis? Do you think I brought them to this? Am I missing something?" Jonathan wanted to humour himself with Jervis' response. His mind tended to come up with bizarre things, some of them had a difficult to find insight. Jervis sighed, pondering the question. "I think it was beyond your control. I think when we ignore things, they don't leave us. They creep along behind you and then they bite." Jervis tucked his gloved hands back into his coat pockets. He turned as though to leave before pausing, looking back at Jonathan. "Sometimes when alone we can get such silly little ideas in our head." Jervis said lightly, eyes full of sorrow as he slowly shook his head. "Just like that, they control us." He sighed. "Chin up, Hare." He said softly before rising turning and walking away. Jonathan watched him as he left.

Even by the time Jonathan decided to head home himself, Jervis' words were stuck in his head. He was used to odd when it came to Jervis but something about his words stuck with Jonathan.

Jervis rarely acknowledged suicides. To him, there was no such thing. A silly comfort to settle him. A pretty lie to cover the ugly truth. So it was particularly confusing that he acknowledged what happened to you. Jonathan mulled over the encounter with a glass of red wine. There was something off- something blaring at him until he couldn't pinpoint what it could be. He couldn't disregard it either. As much as he tried to, his mind never strayed. 'I think it was beyond your control.' It was a comforting statement that many would provide but Jervis often spoke as a collective. He often spoke in plurals. 'We' instead of 'I'. 'Us' instead of 'Me'. Mostly because he thinks he's speaking in plural, referring to one of his delusions. Yet he was certain and oddly final. It wasn't in Jonathan's control alone, whereas, Jervis would have said 'it's beyond our control'. A self soothing perspective to assure both Jonathan and Jervis that nothing by anyone could have been done. Then again, Jervis didn't acknowledge suicides. He'd insist someone was slain by something no one could see. The red Queen or the Jabberwocky in their head got to them before anyone else could. Yet he spoke nothing of any fictional beings at the graveyard. It was a little bizarre that someone who couldn't acknowledge the reality of suicide would be able to mention it for someone he thought of a dear friend. Not to mention the partner of one of the very few friends Jervis actually has. Jonathan sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. Perhaps he was just overthrowing things. Denial could be a slippery bastard if strong enough. 'I've been keeping my distance...figured we had all the time in the world.' Jonathan straightened slightly. It was unexpected to have just come to mind for Jervis it was out of character. He had no concept of personal space so why would be suddenly be aware of it? Because he wants to separate himself. Jonathan entertained the thoughts that tried to piece Jervis together- unable to stop. When people die, they don't get the sense of unlimited time. In fact, it made someone all the more aware of how brief their time in this world is. A reason of encouragement to live whilst you can and tell your loved ones they matter. He had more time. The thought hopped into his mind and he didn't quite understand it. Focusing on it he realised. He had met many murderers in his time as a psychiatrist and a criminal. Very few- if any- looked over their shoulder out of fear of their short lifespan. They're often comforted knowing they had a fighting chance against a possible attacker and even less have any empathy for the victim.

Your suicide was a shock to everyone, Jonathan included. Everyone...but Jervis- a man who couldn't stomach suicide. It didn't surprise him because he knew. That seemed crazy but another thought jumped to mind. 'We ignore things and they'll creep behind us until they bite.' A rather sinister statement to make, although did have some truth in it. Although the usual examples that come to mind are things, but what if this was a person? 'Sometimes we get such silly ideas in our heads when we're alone.' The memory hit Jonathan like a train.

All this time, he had failed to notice Jervis' specialty. It was assumed that you were alone since it was just you and Jonathan. Jonathan was out and out of nowhere -whilst making tea- you stopped and that was it. Perhaps you weren't alone at all and an idea- a sickening idea- was planted in your mind. Jonathan risked shattering his wine glass as he slammed it on the coffee table and rose to a stand. For all Jonathan knew- it was a silly theory but it clawed at him and he refused to ignore this.

His suspicion of Jervis Tetch, only grew by the second followed by his anger. The longer it marinated in his brain, the more energy he had. Living didn't take so much effort. There was purpose once more. Jonathan rose to a stand. Rage bubbled deep within him and only grew. It wasn't often he felt such strong emotion but there was nothing else it could be described.

Being with you gave him a better idea of limits, where lines could be crossed morally. What was not enough and what was too far. In such ways, you kept him in line. You weren't here anymore. There was no one to tell him those distinctions. Although this time, Jonathan had no interest in following any morals at all.

Jervis opened his door and look perplexed to see Jonathan. "Dear Mr Crane! What a surprise!" Jervis exclaimed. "Apologies for the lack of notice Jervis. This was rather spur of the moment on my part. I have something I'd like to discuss with you and have found your company more helpful than the others. Might I come in?" Jonathan asked politely, his expression stoic and expectant. "Certainly!" Jervis stepped aside with a smile. "Do come in!" "Thank you." Jonathan replied as he stepped inside.

Jervis' apartment was as messy as his mind. Jonathan wasn't even certain if Jervis was completely aware of his apartment or only noticed segments and the other pieces blurred away into nothingness. Not once did Jervis ever think to piece them together to get the full picture that was his apartment. Porcelain tea cups and saucers- some chipped splayed around the place, some on their sides and upside down. Playing cards were sprawled everywhere. There were a few candles, torn pieces of paper with scribbles and tea stained. Old weathered books.

"So what brings you to me...almost time for tea!" Jervis smiled. "Well, Jervis, because I think I'd like your perspective on things." Jonathan began. "M-Me?" Jervis seemed surprised again. "Does that surprise you? We are friends Jervis, are we not? Jonathan pressed. "Why of course! It's just- I didn't think you'd say such things." Jonathan smiled at Jervis knowingly. "Yes, well, I was never raised to be affectionate. My grandmother would often spit that I wasn't deserving of affection or love. 'You're a leech, Jonathan!' She'd remark. 'A sin that not even our righteous God could forgive. A demon born of wedlock.'" Jonathan smiled. "You know she'd pray at nights, pray for forgiveness. Beg to God that he forgive her for her sins and failing her son. Pray for the strength to repent for her sins by raising me." Jonathan spoke cooly, almost detached or nonchalant over such hideous things. "I couldn't decide whether she needed more than God's strength to raise me as she did a pitiful job that was only abusive or whether not even God's intervention could contain the force that was my grandmother. I made sure she knew sin she had ever done before I killed her. My one regret is that I didn't break her down and then kill her." Jonathan crossed one leg over the other which only emphasised how long his legs were. "I lost religion long before I killed her." He shook his head. "It was quite the relief." He added. "The idea of no heaven or hell. She'd just be gone." Jonathan let out a sigh. "That wasn't the case when (Y/N) died." Jonathan mused, much quieter. "No...no, when (Y/N) died, I found myself feeling sick at the idea that they just stopped. No heaven or hell.Just gone. So much that I think I've been seeing them sometimes. At night when in bed. I know when I see them that it's all in my head but I can't help but indulge. Do you understand? I thought you might understand that better than the others." Jonathan looked to Jervis who nodded quickly and sat in the chair beside him. "Oh I do! It's a comfort only the mind could bring! For its tailored to what the heart wants!" Jervis replied with enthusiasm. "Although it tragic." Jonathan nodded. "I thought you'd understand. You see, I told you this because well...(Y/N) was my proof that I could- in my own way- I could love someone and I did Jervis. My evidence against my granny. Even now, I love them endlessly. I find it strange that I was so disconnected from feeling such a bond to someone and now that they're gone, I'm detached once more." "From what I read, that is quite normal, Mr Crane!" Jervis chirped. "Would you like some tea?" Jonathan shook his head and raised his hand to dismiss the question. "What about you Jervis?" Jonathan asked. "...what about me? I'll make my own tea-" Jonathan cut off Jervis' response.

Jervis had only managed to stand up before he was stopped by Jonathan. "I mean to say, do you think -as my friend- did you think I was happier with (Y/N) than I was before we met?" Jonathan asked as he stood up. "Why yes, I do. That's a rather silly question, Mr Crane. You know if I could bring them back to you I would in a heartbeat!"Jervis proclaimed. "You would?" Jonathan tilted his head. "Of course!" Jervis said again. "Then why would you kill them?" Jonathan asked.

Jervis looked taken aback. "Is...is this a hypothetical question?" Jervis asked with unease. "Of course not. Why would I propose a hypothetical question when you definitively killed my (Y/N). I'm asking you - my friend and their friend- why would you kill them?" Jervis smiled warily. "You dare smile at me? Look at me like you have no idea what I'm talking about? Have you gone senile, Jervis?" An empty smile grew on Jonathan's face. "Mr Crane, I think you've gotten the wrong idea!" Jervis said nervously. "I wouldn't want to hurt (Y/N)!" "Of course not. That's why you got them to do it to themselves." Jonathan fired back. Jervis could only shake his head as Jonathan's gaze hardened on his. "All this time my granny thought I was the leech who sucked the life out of everything. That it was me who did not deserve love and could never get it. It was fucking you!" Jervis suddenly relaxed, blinking a couple of times and straightening his clothes. "Enough games, Jervis." Jonathan said icily. Jervis exhaled. "I did not lie, Mr Crane. I did not want to hurt (Y/N). They were a dear friend. I ensured it would be quick." "I'm not going to ask again." Jonathan replied.

Jervis sighed. "You're all so vain." Jervis began. "We all came from all walks of life yet you're all so very vain, Mr Crane." Jervis met Jonathan's gaze. "Even with all of those fancy certificates, you still underestimate me. As does Mr Nygma. Mock me, play me for a fool. You all look down upon me. Treat me lesser than yourselves. Like that is ought to be and what makes it worse is that you think I cannot see!" Jervis mouth twisted like a bad taste was in his mouth. "Tell me, my dear Mr Crane," Jervis met Jonathan's eyes. "do I seem so harmless now? Shall I take a bow?" Jonathan stayed quiet, a dark expression upon his face. Jervis took that opportunity to continue. "I never told a lie." He shook his head solemnly. "I assure you as I assured them. I did not do this out of hate for them. They were my friend just as you are. I did this for a lesson, Mr Crane. A formidable lesson that I am no lesser than you. Be it my smile or strange demeanor- it won't take away that i shouldn't be underestimated. The way you all speak of me like I'm not there, like I can't hear you. Better yet, the way you think I don't understand you but I do, Mr Crane! I understand more than you ever will." Jervis nodded to himself. "I knew you would be home late. I knew dear (Y/N) was home alone. Silly little Jervis must be lost again, hm!? They let me in and had no idea what I had put on their head until they realised they couldn't move- not unless I commanded them to. I held out my trusted watch so I could remove the hat. I gave my instructions. The next time they heard the whistle of a kettle. They would go to the roof and jump to their death. A tear ran down their face and I apologised and they were to never speak a word about what i said." Jonathan remembered that fourteen hours later, you had done exactly that. You had the kettle going and impulse seemed to just take over. Neither the police or Jonathan could understand why you'd go to make yourself tea and just walk away to the roof. Jervis continued, a hand to his chest. "I took no joy in any of this. They were my friend but it had to be done. I will not be overlooked again." Jonathan almost couldn't believe what he was hearing. Jervis hadn't liked a few comments he and the others had made so he forced you to kill yourself? As an act to prove himself? It tore at his insides to know you had let Jervis in, trusting Jervis and this was how he repayed you. "You see, Mr Crane?" Jervis asked. "I see, Jervis." Jonathan replied smoothly before slowly walking around the dining table. "Lesson learned then? No longer will I have to endure this bullying?" Jervis continued. "I understand, Jervis." Jonathan assured him. "You won't endure such treatment. I'll make sure the others know too." Jervis lit up. "Delightful! I'll make some tea-!"

Jervis was cut off when he was at arms reach of Jonathan, his hands tightly around Jervis' throat. He slammed Jervis onto his back and pressed down with everything he had. Jervis stared wide eyed as he choked, his face changing colour. Jonathan's stare bore into him, a vein popping out in his forehead. His face was calm but the fury in his eyes remained. Cold, deadly and endless. He couldn't even mind the discomfort in his hands as he squeezed. It was by no means easy to strangle a person but Jonathan wanted to drink in and savour the fear in Jervis' eyes before the light in them died. This was personal just as his act was and all he could think about was the fear you must have had in that moment. Let this be a lesson to Jervis and anyone who dared so much as dream of harming his love. The hatred in his darkened eyes, his jaw set. This wasn't even half of what Jervis deserved but he wouldn't live for not one more second- not when you didn't get to.

Edward was never home, so Jonathan knew to find him in his hideout. Edward knew something was wrong but the empty look in Jonathan's eyes, disheveled with droplets of blood along his hands with deep scratches. "What the hell!?" Edward practically stumbled back. Jonathan told him everything. From the visit to the graveyard up to the moment Jervis went limp.

"You...you killed him?" Edward whispered incredulously. Jonathan blinked at him. "Don't get me wrong! He deserved it! I think I'd have done the same myself. I mean to (Y/N)?" Edward shook his head. "I couldn't imagine laying a hand on them. Isn't that all the reason to suggest he...well, was confused?" "We let Jervis away with a lot of things because of his illness." Jonathan said flatly. "Time and time again it was out of grace. Poor Jervis doesn't understand, he's confused. Perhaps you've forgotten Edward- I have no empathy. I didn't touch him because he gave me no reason to, no reason to care what he did. Until he hypnotised my spouse to kill themselves." Jonathan leaned forward, an icy stare boring into Edward's. "So I went to him when alone, like he did to them and then I knocked him to the ground. Then I watched him die as I squeezed the life out of him." Jonathan smiled. "I enjoyed every second of it. In the time he wanted to prove a point, he forgot who he was dealing with. My sympathy for Jervis Tetch was that I didn't torture him until his mind shattered and kill him slowly." Jonathan took a calming breath before sitting back in his chair. "So what now?" Edward asked. "With the body? Everything." "The death certificate can continue to say suicide." Jonathan replied. "I want to leave their body be. I know the truth and that's what matters." "I...was talking about Jervis."Edward said slowly. "Let the bastard rot in there. With any luck, the rats will shit him out before there's anything to find." Jonathan's upper lip curled. "What about you?" Edward asked. "Business as usual." Jonathan replied. "I'm not going into hiding for that. Anyone comes to me about him, I've got nothing to hide."

#batman #batman villains #scarecrow #jonathan crane #one shot #oneshot #reader #warning #trigger warning #tw

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