#IT'S DONE!!!!! 🎉🎉🎉

[andypantsx3]

Deceiving the Duke | 9 | Todoroki Shouto

pairing: Todoroki Shouto x Female Reader

length: 4.1k of 30k words | 9th of 9 chapters

summary: When Camie Utsushimi elopes on the eve of her society debut, scandal threatens to destroy the family’s prospects. It’s up to you, a maid, to impersonate Camie throughout the Season, long enough that her elder sister can make a match. The only trouble? Lord Shouto Todoroki is also intent on making a match—and that match, quite impossibly, appears to involve you.

tags/warnings: romance, regency au, class differences, hidden identity/identity porn, aged up characters, eventual smut

You couldn’t think of a thing to say during the carriage ride, pretending to look out over streets glowing in the newly-risen sun. But you kept sneaking glances back at Lord Shouto, only to find him watching you contemplatively, his handsome face unreadable to you.

You wondered what he truly thought of you. If he had known this entire time you were only pretending to be Camie–why had he let you go through with it? Why had he kissed you last night, even?

You could almost think he had been trying to entrap you in turn, except that you knew him to be too good for that.

So why had he let you go on?

You stiffened as the palace came into view, a huge, imposing structure with immaculately whitewashed walls, rising several stories above the ground. An enormous wrought iron gate let into the grounds, down a short drive fringed pink-blossomed trees, which finally led onto a cobblestoned concourse which looked like it had never seen a speck of dirt.

Guards in the Yaoyorozu livery were stationed all along the palace’s face, their sabers resting conspicuously at their sides.

You felt your fingers tighten in the fabric of your dress.

Lord Shouto jumped down from the carriage as soon as it stopped, and reached out a hand for you again. You considered whether you should avoid it–you were not a lady, and you were now in the presence of hundreds of people who would see him do so. Before you could brace yourself to jump down on your own, however, Lord Shouto’s hands found your waist. Your stomach swooped as he lifted you out of the carriage entirely, placing you on the ground as though you were no heavier than a child.

Your knees felt suddenly weak, and you focused on getting your feet properly back under you. You did not dare grip his sleeve for support.

“Come with me,” Lord Shouto said, his low voice gentle in the morning air.

He offered his arm—as though you were a lady again!–and looked at you expectantly.

“My lord, I do not think you should treat me as such,” you said quietly, as a footman scurried out the entrance of the palace towards you.

Lord Shouto’s eyes picked over you, his head tilting. “There should be no object. You’ve already embroiled me in scandal enough, do you not think?” he said.

Your stomach turned over, but the tiniest quirk at the corner of his mouth told you he meant it in jest. Still–

“Your Grace, the princess will receive you in her sitting room,” the footman said, puffing as he approached.

“Thank you,” Lord Shouto said. Then he reached out and quite determinedly took your hand, pulling your arm carefully through his. He ignored the footman’s wide-eyed look, and gently tugged you along after him.

You were too stunned to say anything, your tongue feeling as though it had tied itself in a knot. The feeling only worsened as you were led deeper into the palace, down a long hall and through a series of intricately brocaded and muraled rooms with echoing marble floors. Eventually you emerged into a room painted a cheery yellow, with sunny rows of windows and several ornately patterned sitting benches.

Your heart stopped.

On the nearest sofa sat a gorgeous woman, with fair skin and raven-black hair, upon which rested a small silvery tiara. The Princess Momo Yaoyorozu herself.

Quickly abandoning Shouto, you dropped into the lowest curtsy you could manage, feeling your knees wobble underneath you. Out of the corner of your eye, you watched as Shouto swept the most absolutely cursory bow you’d ever seen in your life. You started, appalled by the slight.

What was he doing?

But the princess looked deeply unruffled, smiling as she rose from the sofa.

“Shouto,” she said, happily.

And then she rounded the table and embraced him.

“Momo,” Lord Shouto said in return. “It is good to see you in good health.”

You stared, aware that your mouth had dropped open, but completely unable to close it. So they–were a couple? But then you noticed the slight woman at the princess’s shoulder, who also reached out and embraced Lord Shouto.

“Jirou,” he said.

Jirou colored pink and cuffed the back of his head lightly. “Next time I’d ask you to consider causing a scene like this later in the day.”

Lord Shouto’s face went carefully blank, the very picture of innocence. “I know not what you mean.”

Jirou looked unfazed. “I’m sure.”

Just then, the princess’s gaze wandered to you, her eyes dark and fathomless and intimidatingly pretty. You froze under her sudden attention. “This must be your Miss Not-Quite-Utsushimi,” she said.

Your stomach lurched. She knew. The princess already knew what you had done.

Was this it, then? The moment of reckoning? What Shouto had brought you here for, to see that royal justice was done unto you?

But the princess just smiled, and gestured to a bench opposite the sofa. “Please, sit.”

You almost sat down reflexively right on the floor. Thankfully, Lord Shouto took your elbow and gently guided you to the chair, taking the place next to you. You tried very hard not to notice the way his strong thigh pressed against your skirts.

“Now then, Shouto tells me you’ve gotten yourself into a bit of trouble. I’d like to hear it from you, if you don’t mind,” Princess Momo said as she settled back into her seat.

You could barely think straight. It was like every thought you’d ever had suddenly gathered in your mouth, all clamoring to burst forth. You tripped over your own words, barely managing coherence.

“Your Highness–it’s not. I mean, it’s not my trouble, it’s Lord Shouto’s. I’ve gone and involved him in a way I did not mean, and he desperately needs to call off the marriage. It’s entrapment! He was caught with me, and I’m not Camie–his reputation—my fault, I mean–”

Lord Shouto’s gloved hand found your thigh, and you jumped.

His mouth drew close to your ear. “Breathe, Y/N.”

It was the first time you’d ever heard him use your name, and the sound went through you like a lance. You only just managed to clamp down on what might have been a horrible little whimper, your fingers clenching in your skirts for something to ground you.

“It’s as I described in my letters, Momo,” Lord Shouto said, turning back to the princess.

She ignored him, her gaze picking over you. “You mean you meant to entrap His Grace?” she asked.

“No!” you yelped, leaning forwards desperately. “No, please. You must ask him to call it off!”

She tilted her head and waited, as if for more of an explanation.

You blew out a nervous breath, trying to find the words to explain. “I am a–I was a maid, Your Highness. I have worked for the Utsushimi family for years. Just days before the season, Camie Utsushimi eloped with Lord Inasa Yoarashi, leaving her elder sister Caroline the consequences of the scandal. Mrs. Utsushimi–that is, it was decided that I should pretend to be Camie long enough for Miss Caroline to make a match.”

The princess’s eyebrows raised.

“I did not expect that I should–-that I should find someone as good and kind as Lord Shouto. I have no excuses for participating in and continuing the charade.”

You did not know how to continue. You let the words sit there in heavy silence.

“And what would you want now?” The princess finally asked. “Now that you’re to be revealed as a servant?”

You ducked your head. “I want only that Lord Shouto distance himself quickly.”

“And you?” Princess Momo asked.

You did not dare ask that she let you flee into the countryside as you so desperately hoped. It was the height of folly to think that you would be let off with no punishment. God, however had you thought you could have pulled this scheme off? What absolute madness had possessed you to go along with it?

“Whatever Your Highness thinks is suitable penalty,” you said, unable to look into her face.

“Why did you do it?” The princess asked, as Lord Shouto had.

You answered as you had then. “For money, Your Highness.”

Lord Shouto leaned forward. “For her family, Momo. She sends a wage.”

Your skin prickled, hoping that this admission would not make targets out of your parents too.

“And your parents know of this scheme?” she asked.

You panicked, getting to your feet. “No! Your Highness, please, I have not told them–”

“Momo, I’ll thank you not to scare my intended,” Lord Shouto intoned from your side. You realized he’d also risen. He took your arm, tugging you gently back down. “Nothing will happen to your family, Y/N,” he said.

Your pulse pounded under his grip. You tried to focus on how gentle and warm his touch was, as little as you deserved it.

Fuck. Fuck, just what had you gotten yourself into?

“You are lucky,” Princess Momo said finally, “That Shouto thinks this is all very funny.”

You froze, glancing up at her. He–he thought this was–what?

“He’s been writing me these past months, telling me of you. I did not like the idea of it, but Shouto tells me you are…good. That you did not mean to draw anyone’s notice, and that you have very consistently resisted his advances,” the princess said.

Your memory flashed to the feeling of his mouth on you last night. You had not really resisted his advances consistently enough. If only she knew how inappropriately you had reveled in them.

“I see that you are much like what he says,” the princess said, and you heard a kind of unexpected softening of her tone.

You did not know what to say.

“I brought you here to see for myself. And I am…satisfied,” she said. “Though, I will always watch out for him as he has watched out for me since the War for All.”

The knot of tension in your chest uncoiled a little. But surely, she could not mean that she meant to let an infringement of this nature go unpunished?

“Your Highness, I am afraid I do not understand,” you said.

Lord Shouto’s hand found the side of your thigh again, and he pressed those long fingers against you. “She means that she will insist on keeping an eye on you, once we are married,” he said.

Your head snapped towards him, and you gaped. He watched you back, those mismatched eyes glittering in a way that you found so very horribly familiar.

“Married?” you echoed incredulously. “My lord–I am not–you cannot–what?”

Shouto ducked his head to look into your face more closely. “Then you will not have me?”

You sputtered. “Have you? Me, have you? My lord, really, are you unwell? We’ve just established, I am not Camie Utsushimi!”

“I’m well aware…Y/N.” Lord Shouto said, his tone dropping terribly low. A little shiver went up your spine.

“And as you are now well aware, I have known for some time,” he continued. “I knew from the beginning. And I certainly knew when I kissed you last night.”

The shiver became a full body shudder. “Lord Shouto–it doesn’t make sense…”

“He never does,” Jirou piped up helpfully from the princess’s side. “He’s been strange since birth, according to Momo.”

Shouto’s features went intentionally deadpan again, as though he could not countenance such a claim. You couldn’t help the grin that pulled at your mouth.

“He liked when you threw the apricot cake at him,” the princess supplied. “Wrote about it in great detail in his first letter about you. He also waxed poetic about your inability to speak any Greek, as though that were a great accomplishment of yours.”

Your ears went hot. “You did not,” you said.

Shouto had the grace to look the tiniest bit abashed. “Thank you, Momo,” he said, with absolutely no inflection to his tone whatsoever.

You were overcome by a wave of helpless affection for him. “Lord Shouto, I’m still afraid it isn’t done…much as I should–much as your affections are more than reciprocated. I–I’m afraid the scandal–”

“Will not bother me,” Shouto said.

You waved your arm helplessly. “My lord–”

“If it helps,” Princess Momo said. “At Shouto’s behest, I’ve found a little barren plot of land and a just-barely noble title that might be granted to you, in order to facilitate a proper marriage. I…owed him a favor, for services rendered in the War for All. That is, if you will agree to have him.”

Shouto looked back at you, looking a little bit smug for managing to have pulled all this together.

“I’ve procured a special license weeks ago. And I have also written Lord Inasa, and your Camie,” he said. “As it happens, I know Lord Inasa well enough. They will attest to having known of your status, and to having attended the wedding. Your friends Miss Uraraka and Lady Asui have also agreed, provided that you apologize to them in person.”

“As will Jirou and I,” Princess Momo said. “Which should be enough to get half the ton pretending that they were there.”

“Miss Caroline and Mr. Awase, should they care to continue their engagement, should also be told. There should be no impropriety in the match, then,” Shouto said. “Although there will still be talk of your impersonating Camie.”

You could not believe it.

It all sounded so unreal–that you, simply by agreeing now, could become Shouto’s wife.

Horrible, hot little tears gathered in the corner of your eyes. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me.”

“You didn’t tell me,” Shouto pointed out, though his tone was gentle. “Let those be the last secrets we keep from one another.”

A wave of emotion crashed over you, and it was only the princess’s presence that kept you from throwing yourself at Shouto.

It was real. He was really real, and he truly wanted you.

“Yes,” you said, watching him closely. “If you will really have me, then yes. It would be improper of me, I think, to admit how much I…how much I love you. But I have been driven mad with it, Shouto. I love you.”

A blindingly handsome smile lit up Shouto’s face, and he’d pulled you to him before you realized he’d even moved. He had you up and out of the seat in the blink of an eye, and he swept another barely-courteous bow in Princess Momo’s direction–one that you realized was born of years of friendship, rather than any disrespect.

“You understand we must take our leave of you,” Shouto said.

Princess Momo bit her pretty lip as though fighting down a laugh. “Indeed. Though I will expect you both back for tea the week after next. I still have questions.”

“I'm afraid I have a honeymoon planned,” Shouto said. He leaned down to you and said in conspiratorial tones. “I think perhaps some Greek ruins might be in order.”

You groaned out a laugh. “Shouto…”

Princess Momo waved you off, disinterested. “Then write, please. I am pleased to see you finally happy, Shouto.”

“I am,” Shouto said seriously. He pulled you towards the door in a bout of sudden impatience. “Thank you, Momo.”

She waved again, and then you were through the door, a footman collecting you and leading you back out of the palace.

Your head was spinning with a rush of emotion, and your heart beat a staccato of disbelief in your chest. Shouto helped you back into the carriage, a fond little grin on the corner of his mouth.

“You really mean it, Y/N?” he asked as he followed you in, taking up the seat next to you rather than opposite. You soaked in the delicious warmth of him alongside you, something you had been sure just fifteen minutes ago that you might never feel again. “Be honest with me.”

You nodded, looking up into his handsome face. “I promise to always be honest with you from this point on.”

Another smile twitched at the corner of Shouto’s mouth, a wry, mischievous little thing. “Good,” he said, his voice dropping low. “As I plan to make an honest wife out of you now, love.”

You shivered again, and Shouto drank it in with far too much satisfaction.

But then he leaned in, smiling, and kissed you.

Over the carriage ride, you spoke very little–far too occupied with one another to manage much conversation–but Shouto did convey that your wedding would be a secret affair, first thing in the morning, under the eye of the Archbishop who was closely aligned with the Yaoyorozu family, and excellent at keeping secrets.

Which left you with the entire afternoon—an afternoon you planned to spend wisely.

When you arrived back at his lodgings, an attempt was made to feed you and offer you a room of your own–so that things might be proper. But you hadn’t done any of this properly in the slightest, and you didn’t plan to start now.

In only a matter of minutes, you had both stumbled into Shouto’s bedroom, an elegantly-appointed suite that you would have to inspect more closely later, when you weren’t so preoccupied with what his mouth was doing just above the neckline of your dress.

“Shouto, you’ll tear it,” you said, as he tugged at the higher, more conservative collar of your servant’s garb.

“Good,” Shouto intoned in his low voice, his mouth still pressed to the line of your neck in a way that reminded you of the masquerade last night. “You’ll never need it again.”

His fingers tugged harder, and he murmured quietly, “Once I have this off you, you’ll never dress as a maid again.”

The thought made you dizzy, and you grasped his shoulder for stability, which only gave him better purchase to tug your dress down the other arm. Soon he’d gotten you down to your stays and stockings, and the appreciative groan he made as he looked you over sent little shivers over your skin.

He walked you back to his bed, layering kisses everywhere–over your face, your chest, your arms, any part of you he could reach.

“You’ll stop me, if you want to?” he asked, mismatched eyes flicking up to yours.

“I don’t want to,” you told him, reaching out to grasp his coat, pulling him down to the bed with you. His warm, hard body against you dredged up the memory of last night–all those straining feet of him pressing you against the wall, that feeling that had built up within you as he touched you through your skirts. “I could have screamed when they found us last night.”

Shouto’s face dropped into the crook of your neck, and he left a stinging bite on your shoulder. “I almost challenged Mr. Awase to a duel there and then. All good sense had left me.”

You knew the feeling–all good sense had left you quite presently, replaced with the burning desire to have him over you, pressing all along you, weighing you down into the mattress and finishing what you’d started on the assembly room balcony.

“Shouto, please. I want–I need–”

Shouto didn’t let you finish, sealing his mouth over yours. His fingers busied themselves with the laces of your stays, and it was only a matter of minutes until he had you bare to him entirely.

“Perfect,” he said, in a tone so low you could feel it in your bones. His fingers pressed between your thighs, and your gasp echoed in the early morning quiet. “You are perfect.”

You rather thought he was perfect, as you finally managed to push his coat off of him and tore at the buttons of his shirt. Underneath he was all hard muscle and smooth skin, and you found yourself struck dumb by the way his abs flexed, the way his waist tapered into the line of his breeches.

He was even more perfectly carved than those blasted Greek sculptures, and you surged up to kiss him again. His fingers found their way back between your thighs, and you threw your arms over his shoulders, clinging to him as he worked you up to the peak he’d brought you to last night.

It felt like you had no control over yourself as you writhed against his hand, your mouth desperately seeking his to quiet the noises you wanted to make.

Shouto’s touch was maddening, every twist of his fingers smooth and deft, and his thumb worked your clit so gently you wanted to scream. It was too much, and yet not enough, and yet everything you’d ever wanted—

“Please, Shouto,” you begged. “Please, please.”

“Please what, love?” he asked, smiling down at you. But you could tell he knew what you wanted, and that he wanted it too, if the hard press of him against your thigh was any measure.

“Shouto, if you don't take me in the next few moments, I swear there will be an entire hailstorm of apricot cakes with your name on them–!” you threatened, but Shouto was laughing and pressing into you before you could finish, and you cut off on another gasp, clutching him for dear life.

The stretch of him inside you was sharp, and unfamiliar, and a little uncomfortable at first. But he seemed to know what he was doing, teasing your clit and layering hot, biting kisses all over you, until you didn’t know what to focus on–until he was fully inside you.

He kissed you utterly stupid while he let you adjust, his hands everywhere, distracting you. He murmured sweet things, how beautiful you were, how lovely, how perfect for him. By the time he finally moved you were a shivery puddle of praise and feeling, and the slide of him was so suddenly good you couldn’t even think straight.

“I knew you were my match the minute you first spoke to me,” he bit at out as his hips worked against you. “I knew I would love you.”

You bit back an embarrassing noise as Shouto’s pace grew faster and unmeasured. “I–Shouto–love you–” you managed. Shouto’s hips jerked in response, and he grasped your thighs, pulling you even harder into him. You couldn’t hold back a moan as he hit deeper within you and the new angle had you shuddering uncontrollably. He huffed a harsh breath against your throat, similarly affected, his fingers digging into you thigh.

After that, it was only a matter of minutes. Everything about him seemed calculated to drive you over the edge–the feeling of him hot and hard inside you, the sight of his abs tightening and flexing between your thighs, his fingers and his mouth all over you. The flush of effort on his cheekbones looked so good on him that you could barely believe he was real.

Everything–absolutely everything about him drove you right to the edge of madness, and then another hard thrust from him sent you right over it.

You cried out his name, trapped underneath him as you rode out your pleasure. And it seemed to hit Shouto too–his eyes widened as he watched you, and he bit out a curse you’d never heard from him before. His hips stuttered, frantically bucking into you as if he had no control, and a warmth flooded inside you.

Shouto breathed out a shaky breath and relaxed over you, the sticky, hot weight of him pinning you underneath him.

“I love you,” was all you could think to tell him, your mind still fuzzy with pleasure. “I love you.”

Shouto’s mouth curved into another wry little grin, and he smiled down at you, those mismatched eyes glinting.

“I see I did make an honest woman of you, then,” he said, sounding a little too pleased with himself.

You kissed him to shut him up, and pulled him closer–unable to deny that he had. You couldn’t think of anything you wanted than to give him your whole heart, bare and honest and real, for the rest of your lifetime together.

There would be no deceiving the duke–-not anymore.

Especially if, after you’d caught your breath, you could convince him to make an honest woman of you yet again.

And hopefully, again and again and again.

[archive-rat]

weigh your heart against a feather

(just in time for a new canary)

[the-kr8tor]

lavender + ❣️ with Jason todd where they are at the manor after being out ( prob shopping or smth) and he confesses his love bc a bunch of guys were asking for readers number but she turned them all down and he wanted to be hers and was tired of guys bothering his (soon to be) girl. Hopefully this makes sense lol but you totally don't have to do this. I love you and hope you have an amazing week!! 😘😘

Yay a Jason req! Thank you for being patient! I hope you like your potion 🩷

Pairing: Jason Todd x fem! Reader/ Red Hood x fem! Reader

Word count: 1.7k

Tags: No use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, CW food mention, Best friends to lovers, Fluff

Katy's one year celebration 🎉

Jason has been uncharacteristically quiet the entire drive to the manor. He doesn't even tap his fingers to the rhythm of the radio playing a cheesy pop song that he keeps telling you that he doesn't like. With one hand he steers the wheel while his elbow rests on the window sill. It's a cool afternoon in Gotham, orange and pink hues shifting along the clouds, the road is still wet from the downpour a few hours ago. His drenched jacket that he used to shield you both from the rain hangs over the backseat.

You watch him with pensive eyes, wracking your brain as to why he's so quiet when he was such a chatterbox back when he was driving to the grocery store. You've almost forgotten what he was talking about, mind reeling from the conclusion that you might've done something to agitate your best friend. Maybe you shouldn't have volunteered to go on a grocery run when Alfred asked, especially that you and Jason planned to hang out at your place. Biting the inside of your cheek, you try to remember what happened at the store to warrant such a stifling silence from Jason— Well, he opened the door for you while he was talking about that new book he was so excited to read. Then he grabbed a cart, pushed it while you had your hand on the end, guiding him, and all the while you two kept chattering on the aisle, taking stuff that was on Alfred's list. And then that was it. Nothing special happened, well except for that one guy with a nice smile who asked you where the cereal was. And that one dude who helped you take the can of beans from the highest shelf while Jason was weighing the blueberries.

You must've looked quite agitated or even constipated because it's now Jason's turn to worry.

“Are you okay? You look like you need to take a shit.” He glances briefly to you, green eyes hiding an emotion you're still trying to ascertain.

“Am I okay? Jay, you're the one who's been silent the entire way.” He enters the manor's gates, shrugging at your words. “We can still hang out at my place after this. I'm sorry we wasted an afternoon buying Damian's sweets.”

There's a small smile on his lips, “that kid eats too much sugar.” Clicking his seatbelt off, he opens the door with a groan, you surmise that his healing knee is still bothering him.

You sigh, getting more anxious at his dodging. Before you could open the door for yourself, you find Jason outside of your door, opening it for you. “C’mon, Jay, talk to me.” Tugging at the hem of his shirt, you smile up at him. “Is it because I ate the donut you left in my fridge?”

Jason furrows his brows, lips pursed, trying not to laugh. “That was yours, babe, I left it for you.”

You blink, hand drifting away from his shirt. He already misses your hold on him. “Oh, thanks.”

“You and Dami share a sweet tooth, so I got it for you.” He leans down, arm placed atop the car, eyes soft and tender. “But thank you for confessing your sins.”

You can't help but ogle at how he looks from below. “...yeah, sure, Jay.” You say in a small tone. It's not the nickname that has you all giddy inside, you're used to his sweet nicknames that he has bestowed upon you. No, it's the thought that he left you a treat because he knows how much you love that triple chocolate donut that has you bouncing off the walls after eating it.

So it's not the donut, then why the hell does he have a stick up his finely toned ass?

Jason leaves your side, the cologne you bought him lingering around you. He opens the trunk, carrying every single plastic bag with both hands. You finally stand up after being weak in the knees after the simple look he gave you. Walking towards him to help, he's already halfway inside the mansion before you could grab a few bags from him. Knowing him, it's all effortless. Well, at least he left you one tiny bag that only contains two boxes of cereal— one regular wheat and one that has your tooth rotting just from looking at the bright colors. With a sigh, you grab it and follow him inside and towards the kitchen.

The plastic bags rustle as he takes out all the groceries. It's filled with fresh vegetables, fruits, sugar and all the food that a vigilante needs for patrol. You put your singular bag on the counter next to the others, helping him take out the rest while he still stands there all quiet and broody. In the low light of the kitchen you can clearly see that Bruce has definitely made a big influence on him.

You put your foot down, knees up on the stool to level with him, hands placed on the cold marble countertop as he raises a curious brow at you. “What's up, Jay?”

“What's up?” He mimics your tone. “Nothing, babe, just taking out the groceries.” You take the can of beans from his hand and then you place it loudly on the counter while you take a stance against the red hood who makes goons cower in fear just from his stare. “You really want to know?”

“Yes!” You exclaim, reaching over the counter to grab his hand. Wordlessly telling him that you're there for him whatever kind of problem has plagued him recently.

Jason watches as your fingers dance along his scarred palm, kneading his muscles just like you always do whenever he drops in your apartment after a tough patrol. He was so sure that he had gathered enough courage to tell you, but now that you have your hands around his own, all his bravery is down the drain.

He sucks in his teeth, leaning down, elbows atop the counter, green eyes staring anywhere near your eyes, and then he places a quick kiss along your knuckles. Warmth soothing you, almost making you forget what you were asking for.

Defeated, you cup his jaw, thumb running along his growing stubble, fingers reaching behind his ear to rub lovingly across his nape. “Okay, it's okay if you don't want to tell me. But I'll be here if you want to tell me.” You smile when he leans against your touch, eyes looking at you with such fondness that you almost melt on the spot.

Jason rationalizes his thoughts, the same thoughts that have plagued him for years, the same thoughts that he has dreamed of telling you. “It’s not the donut.”

“Of course it's not the donut.” You chuckle, fingers still tangled in his hair.

“And it's not because of the trip to the grocery store.” His eyes flick over to yours, smiling softly at how you look back at him with the same fondness. “I liked our trip, I kept imagining that we were buying stuff for our place.”

“Do you want more hangouts like that then? You can join me in going to my laundry place. We can watch the clothes tumble and dry like a couple of old people.” Your waist is cold against the counter, but you don't mind as long as he's there with you. “How's that sound?”

“Sounds great. I'll bring the spare change.” You chuckle, after a beat, you thought that was the end of it, but Jason looks like he still wants to say something else— so you stay rooted in place. “But that's not the reason.”

“Okay,” you nod, encouraging him to continue. He gives you his other hand to hold, fingers beckoning your touch. You indulge him, leaving his hair to hold his hand.

“It's that fucking guy.” He blurts out. “Guys.” He corrects himself.

“What guys?”

“The ones who were asking for your number.”

You blink, trying to recall. “I don't remember that.”

“Come on, Y/N.” He squeezes your hands as if that will help you remember them. “The tall blonde guy and the one with the uncanny smile. Just thinking about that grin gives me the creeps.”

“Oh,” you know Jason enough to actually know what he means. “Yeah, I actually remember now. What about them?”

He scoffs, acting like you caught his hand in the cookie jar. “They were bothering you is all. I was just worried for you.”

You nod, hands sliding from his own. For a moment, Jason thinks you're about to go off on him, telling him that you can handle yourself or that you can give your number to whoever the hell you want to. Because who is he to tell you who to date? It's not like you're together, right? But is it wrong that he wants to?

His thoughts get thrown out of the window when you hold his face, soft palms against his rough skin, thumb tracing along the scar on his cheek. It's all affectionate, loving, and it has Jason's heart pumping a thousand times per second.

You smile, head tilting, staring at how his eyes glow under the kitchen lights. It's mundane, but you love him like this, just like how you love him in any way shape or form. You love your best friend. “You're an idiot, Jason Todd.” Your smile gets bigger, he frowns, fearing the worst. “You know that I'm in love with you, right?”

Jason's worried eyes light up, not a trace of his worries, just you in his vision, bathed in the light of his home. “Now I do.” He chuckles, mirroring your position, holding your face in his hands, gentle, like how you'd hold a delicate feather. Placing his forehead atop yours, he says the three words back. “I love you. I'm sorry it took this long.”

Jason leans away, eyes staring at your lips before watching your heart shaped eyes look at him. “That's my girl.” Tilting his head back, you chase his lips, grabbing his collar to do what you've always wanted to do.

“I don't blame you, it took me a while too.” You sniff, refusing to let the tears escape you. “By the way, I never gave them my number.”

[taitavva]

using your father's blood money for fun & profit

[ratioaven]

[saintaviator]

'We're going to a party It's a birthday party, it's your birthday party Happy birthday, darling We love you very, very, very, very, very, very, very much

[an--artistic--autistic]

made some new ones 👀

[bakudekublogblog]

katsuki probably hoped that after his apology, he’d never hurt izuku again. but here he is. being tortured, brutalized, humiliated, and murdered. all in the name of hurting izuku more than anyone

[darqx]

THE WORLD

| Completion | Integration | Accomplishment | Travel |

Everything comes to a close and begins anew. He looks behind him to the past, whilst he moves towards the future, guided by four friends (representing the four fixed points of the zodiac, four compass points, four tarot suits, four seasons and the four corners of the universe). The circles of their halos merge, showing their intertwining journey.

[optimisticgardenhologram]

Not to be some sort giant simp, but because it's his birthday I wanted to write something nice and complimentary for him. But also genuinely and objectively as possible I think Mello is actually a fair bit more humane (or maybe the better term is "less cold-blooded") than he gets credit for?

The evidence:

1. He was very genuinely upset when they are informed of L's death, and doesn't even think about the matter of the successor-ship until Near speaks up alluding to it.

2. After Sayu was rescued/traded from the mafia she's asked to help in the investigation by providing any details of her experience. However she can't because she says she neither saw nor spoke much to her kidnappers. This indicates Mello (as the mastermind of all things related to this project) told the mafia members that they were to stay away from her and generally left her alone. She's a tool to him to achieve his ends but he takes no pleasure in using her this way nor has intention to cause her any additional harm, fear, suffering than is already an unavoidable part of being kidnapped and held hostage across the world.

3. When Soichiro confronts him with the Death Note by announcing Mello's real name and then actually starts writing, Mello could have killed him on the spot faster than Soichiro could write. He had access to the gun next to him in the open desk drawer. You can tell that even in this case he doesn't want to shoot Soichiro, and though Mello's hand hovers over the gun ready to grab it, he does his best to talk Soichiro down instead. Then he apologizes to Soichiro and thinks about how he never intended for Soichiro to die but at the same time he shouldn't have joined up with Kira. There is an important difference here between the anime and the manga; in the anime he tells this to Soichiro aloud which might be interpreted as a way to distract Soichiro while Jose prepares to fire, but in the manga because it's unspoken we know it wasn't meant as a distraction, but genuine regret and remorse.

4. When Mello crashed the SPK, Lidner wasn't really a hostage. She'd already been helping him secretly for a while and continues to do so afterwards; and she -wanted- Mello and Near to work together and was trying to help them do that - meaning she'd have gladly brought them together regardless. But they role-played her like one to cover for her in front of her colleagues, make it seem like she was being forced into it rather than reveal the truth that she was a double-agent.

5. While Mello frequently brandishes his gun as a threat and for coercion, he never actually fires it. Still no one ever doubts that he would use it if needed. Despite fanon often portraying him as a trigger happy nut-job, the canon demonstrates how controlled and coldly resolved he truly is.

6. A pretty commonly repeated sentiment on social media discussions is that unlike Near, Mello doesn't work well with others because he's too much of a lone-wolf and too insecure to work in a team because he would make everything about dominance and power struggle.

I really don't think this is right. Despite stubbornly refusing to work with Near, the evidence shows he's pretty good at getting along and working with other people. Like in the mafia he seems perfectly happy to let Rod Ross be top-dog; he doesn't appear to have any interest in being a big shot and throwing his weight outside of matters directly involving the notebook. Rod Ross is the one to give orders, dole out discipline, and is generally in charge, and he trusts Mello because Mello's proven his value as a loyal team member over time.

He also works well with Halle and Matt who both appear to be there by choice, neither are in the least afraid of or deferential to him and they seemingly work on equal terms together as opposed to a hierarchical boss/subordinate relationship, which is for example so prominently characterizes Near's interactions with his group.

With Matt in particular he's way more patient than is even reasonable to expect, given how it seems like Matt spends a lot of time whining, slacking off, and messing up - no shade meant on Matt (love him dearly) but going by the manga that is what we see. But Mello never scolds him or gets angry or snappy. Mello's internal monologue does show that he's annoyed but he doesn't externalize it, doesn't lash out and is patiently long-suffering when it comes to Matt's shortcomings. He basically just accepts the situation being what it is and moves on. And of course is regretful and sad when Matt dies.

We don't see much of Halle and Mello's interactions as they mostly take place offscreen/off-page but from what there is they seem very casual and comfortable with each other and Halle was very clearly emotionally affected by his death and speaks up for him in 104, believing he sacrificed himself intentionally. Basically, Mello's issues and anti-social behavior stemming from his inferiority complex is SPECIFICALLY centered on and triggered by Near. With everyone else he was able to work very effectively, and they hold him in high regard and can maintain good relationships with him.

7. He seems to have sympathy for Misa and is judgmental about the way Light weaponizes her trauma and idolization.

8. Although she's on his enemy's team, he felt enough pity for Takada provide her a blanket when he orders her to undress, which directly contributes to his own demise. I believe he knew (intended as part of his plan) that X-Kira would kill her to stop her from talking, so it was a small gesture that is practical in that it could make her more willing to quickly cooperate, but also give some small comfort during the short remaining time of her life.

None of this makes him not-evil or villainous, but I do think he's genuinely a more compassionate person than he's typically cast as. Certainly the least villainous of Death Note's wide cast of villains. As it's noted in the Japanese wording of Volume 13 he's "not pure evil" and he "has a pure heart and acts mean to get the attention of the person he likes" (scream). I don't think Ohba intended any of the Wammy's characters to be either pure good or irredeemably evil.

[ceaselessly-mad]

Based on this first comic:

So I had some people feeling sorry for Eddie in my previous comic (about a silly scenario where he had to deliver all those Wally Makeship plushies), so I figured I'd fix it here for the Barnaby ones!

...this is what y'all wanted, right?

Also a bonus, because I think Howdy would absolutely make his nephews deliver them

I mean, he made them work during Homewarming for crying out loud!

[circusk]

the closest thing to salvation is the touch of your lips

[cinnaminstar]

This video game has taken hold of my brain so please take some doodles

[the-kr8tor]

Hiii! I just wanted to request a Baby's breath and ⭐/❣️ for Simon Ghost Riley for the apothecary. Ghost and the reader could be going on a family trip with their baby to the zoo or aquarium. I'd like to kind of see him stuggle with his past, and wonder why his father couldn't enjoy his time with his kids like he does. I'd also like to see him go to the reader for comfort too.

A Simon req!! Thank you so much for requesting! Hope you like it ❤️❤️❤️

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x fem! reader

Word count: 1.3 k

Tags: No use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, dad! Simon, mom! Reader, fluff, hurt/comfort, cw abuse mention, cw panic attack.

Katy's one year celebration 🎉

Perks of wearing a mask at work means that no one recognises you once you're out of it. Another pro, is that no one will bother you at the yearly family day that Price shamelessly told his lieutenant that it's mandatory for the entire 141 to join. Even though Simon knows it technically isn't, he still decided to bring you and his little ones to the zoo just because, A. The entrance is free, and B. He gets to spend time with you, little Tommy and baby Ellie, which is rare these days. A win/win for Simon, as long as nobody recognises him and decides to chat him up while his kids are clinging onto him like peanut butter on bread.

The entire zoo's speakers are blaring with random animal noises that irks Simon. Cows mooing, monkeys screeching, dolphin noises and snakes hissing; he has no idea why a zoo would even play animal noises when the animals themselves are particularly screaming in his ears. The sun is blasting on him, making the back of his neck sweat, and his kids irritable. Baby Ellie gurgles on her stroller, shielded by the folding canopy (and her towering dad) with a portable fan clipped on the handle. She's comfortable and happy enough just staring at the colourful parrots flying around. While Tommy is clutched behind his leg, afraid of the pointed beaks, and sharp claws. He jumps when a bird suddenly flaps its wings too close to him. Even with all the sounds and his kid grappled around him, he truly enjoys their company. He smiles down at Tommy, fingers brushing along the boy's soft curls.

His mind wanders back to his childhood, that his own father never showed the same enjoyment when he's out with his family, enjoying his time more with a bottle of amber liquid in between his crooked fingers instead of spending time with them without a metal hanger in his hand.

Simon pats Tommy atop his head, cowering and hiding his face on Simon's denim. “'s alright, just a bird.”

“I know dad, but they're so scary when they fly. I want mum.” He mumbles back, Simon can feel the tears coming as his son's fingers dig into the denim of his pants.

“Mum’s comin’,” he hears sniffles, and he thinks he's not doing a good job at this. “She's gettin' your drink remember?”

Tommy looks up, big brown eyes filled with tears. “I don't like the birds, dad.”

“Okay, let's move along then. Want to look at the giraffes again?”

Tommy sniffles again, pouting but nodding a quick yes. “Carry?”

Simon sighs with a brief smile, eyes crinkling at the corners, surrendering to the whims of his five year old. “Right, arms up, Tommy.” With one swift move, his son is wrapped around his arm while his free hand pushes the stroller away from the bird enclosure. Wheels squeak, and Ellie is out of the trance signaled by her piercing shriek. “Damnit,” Simon whispers, going around the stroller, he takes his crying daughter in his other arm like a professional. “You're okay, El, what's wrong?” Ellie continues to cry, mouth wobbling, eyes that are similar to yours look at him through tears with her fists wrapped around her dad's shirt.

“Dad, the birds!” Tommy hides behind the crook of his dad's neck, crying in tandem with his sister when he realizes that they haven't gone that far from the scary birds.

“Tommy, they're just birds.” His son wails from his accidental cold words, and in turn, making Ellie sob louder. People stare at him, stopping to give him the stink eye, some even stop to stare at where the ruckus is coming from. It's like he can hear their thoughts, ‘look at that dad who can't handle his own kids.’ or ‘What is that big brute doing to his kids?’ He doesn't care what they think of him, but he doesn't want them to think that they're crying because he hurt them. He'd never do that, he'd never be like him.

All the noises, the heat, the pointed stares, and how Simon's heart pounds at every cry of his children, children that he can't even calm down without your help. It all makes his breathing stagger, muscles tightening, and his palms clammy and tingling. Symptoms that he's awfully too familiar with.

He thinks after having two children he'd be good at this, not great or even amazing, just okay, average at raising his kids so they'd grow up normally and well adjusted. Is he even built for this? Is he capable of loving without leaving teeth marks? Without turning out like his father? Or is he ruining everything?

“Lieutenant, is that you?” A sudden voice calls out, a head of dark hair and bushy beard pops out from his peripheral. Great, someone that recognises him without the mask. Just what he needs.

“No.” Simon answers gruffly above the cries while he uselessly bounce his wailing kids in his arms.

“Nah, I know that's you! I can never forget those terrifying eyes of yours.” The sergeant bounds up to him, he remembers him from the last three missions the man was a part of. Simon regrets lending him his lighter once, now that he's all friendly to him. “That your kids? They're adorable.”

“Sergeant.” No, I stole them, Simon wanted to quip back. The man clearly cannot read the room while his babies are bawling their eyes out. He suddenly wants to punch something. Or just walk away, huffing and puffing. “A bit busy here—”

“They look a lot like you! I never thought you had a face under that skull mask.” If looks could kill, Simon has committed murder in the middle of the zoo. In front of the bird enclosure for that matter. “‘The Ghost’ being a dad,” the sergeant shakes his head in bewilderment. “Sounds weird,” he backtracks quickly, “a g-good kind of weird though.”

Simon's seething, his blood rushing in his ears as everything overwhelms him. From how Tommy's overalls scratches on his side, from how the sweat flows down on his back, snaking along his spine. And the noise, people chatting endlessly, birds squawking, the fucking speakers blaring— he swallows thickly, jaw tightening, eyes darting along the crowd, alert, and pupils blown out. Then, a hand reaches out to his bicep, warm, soft and comfortably familiar over his searing skin. His heartbeat slows down at the mere sight of you.

“Hi,” you smile, eyes roaming around his ‘deer in the headlights’ look. Squeezing once, twice and thrice for good measure, you quickly place the plastic bag full of cold drinks on the stroller. Without missing a beat, you take Tommy in your arms, easing his cries almost immediately. “You must be sergeant Willems, it's nice to meet you but can we take a raincheck on the pleasantries? A bit busy here.” Smiling sweetly, Simon's subordinate nods, giving you and Simon a curt nod and then scampering away.

Simon gazes upon you with softness in his brown eyes, saccharine affection as he slides next to you closer. Hip to hip, he tries hard not to melt into you. Even if you glance at him with the same tenderness.

“Mummy,” Ellie murmurs, tear stained cheeks greeting you. You pat her back as she lays her head down on her father's chest. Lips still frowning, and nose scrunched, she looks like Simon during Tommy's birth. Her cries subsides, a tiny fist wrapped around your finger.

“I'm here, baby.” You coo, fixing your hold on Tommy while you flick your eyes towards Simon, meeting with his own. “I'm right here, Si.” You seem to always know what's going on inside his head, knuckles brushing along his cheek, you wipe away a bead of sweat. He wants to lean into your touch, if not for the numerous eyes roaming around.

He inhales shakily, a restart button for his breathing. Muscles relaxing, forehead pressed on your own briefly and palm spread across the small of your back, he lets his ugly emotions fly away with the wind as you chastely peck his jaw.

“You're good, Simon.”

[taitavva]

regret

[madmensideblog]

Every Episode of Mad Men In Care Of — Season 6, Episode 13 dir. Matthew Weiner

"It said 'sweet' on the package. It was the only sweet thing in my life."