#and especially when they’ve had more than enough chances to do it before hand ??!

[snowangeldotmp3]

ngl i do kind of hate how much marvel/the mcu has pushed captain carter in terms of like, marketing? if that makes sense. peggy is like, a good character. like genuinely. the writing in season 1 of agent carter gives her depth after being interesting enough in captain america: the first avenger. the whole point of the show is that peggy can do all of things that steve can do and more. with no serum. and while it’s true that they both run toward the grenade in the first avenger, i think the sudden shift to make her captain carter isn’t necessarily bad, per se. because captain carter originated in fanfiction and in marvels puzzle tales game back in 2016. and i enjoy cap peggy!! but i think the sudden pivot to her (and especially after they JUST made sam captain america…) feels…cheap? disingenuous? very #girlboss to me. which is sad because had it been done earlier or better, i wouldn’t have had a problem with it

[mostly-imagines]

At Least I’m Not Alone at the Wake

jason todd x fem!reader

aka how jason feels safe even when he feels like he’s dying

HEY today we’re going to play a game where we practice reblogging fics: if you read this and like it—reblog!! ie, if you like and dont reblog i might block bc im getting sick of the lack of decorum

warnings: angst w comfort throughout

It took less than thirty seconds for the silence of the night to drift into sounds of shrieks echoing off the buildings along the street. The sharp contrast had you and Jason bolting upright on the couch, ears on alert. It only took a few seconds more of listening for you to realize you’re not hearing shouting—it’s laughter. Maniacal, uncontrolled laughter. 

There’s a beat as you both freeze upon the implication, the unsettling realization dropping in on you. You barely have a moment to process it before Jason’s pushing up from the couch and heading towards the bathroom.

“Close the window,” he grumbles.

You blink as you register his words before jumping up to do as told, quickly sliding the frame shut and locking it. He returns soon with an armful of towels in hand, and you stand back as he stuffs a couple along the window sill with rough movements. He goes throughout the apartment, doing the same to the other windows. He rounds back to the living room window, looking down at the street with a heavy look on his face. 

You trust that the towels will do their job in preventing the laughing gas from getting in the apartment, but they’re unable to block out the bellows of hysteria.

He backs away from the window, letting the living room wall hold his weight. You both listen to the harrowing echoes with still bodies. 

You watch him, waiting for a reaction. You don’t mean to, but you know you’re looking at him like he’s a loaded spring. You try not to, you know how much he hates how his family does that to him, but fuck, it’s hard not to worry about him.

When Joker incidents have come up, they’ve usually been something you’re able to ignore or even get ahead of and drive out of the city. But this is raucous and chaotic, clearly enough to shut down the city from the inside. Besides, Jason would be booking it out of here if he thought there was any chance of a clean getaway in this.

But you know he’s got no interest in inserting himself in anything Joker related, especially something so destabilizing.

While you know Jason’s family cares about him, of course they do, but you’ve noticed they sometimes put Gotham’s needs first and his second. So the severity of this attack is concerning for you for two reasons.

“Will they…” you shuffle, “Will they need you?”

He’s quick to answer, voice firm. “No.” A long moment passes before he adds on, quieter, “They won’t want me out there.”

You nod to yourself, trying to relax your body. You being on edge isn’t going to help him.

You watch as his head thumps against the wall, eyes squeezed shut. He’s tough—you know he’s tough. He can withstand a hell of a lot more than you’ll probably ever even know. But even for Gotham, this is a lot. And even for someone who hasn’t been through what Jason has, the ringing repetitions of laughter are maddening. You wonder if this is what the Joker hears in his head. You wonder if this is what Jason heard.

The intensity of the laughing increases, more people likely becoming exposed to the gas. You think you can hear it in one of your neighbor’s apartments too.

He thumps his head against the drywall again, hands clenching at his sides. It takes one more forceful thud for you to move over to him, cradling your hand to the side of his head, holding him still. He lets you, though he still doesn’t open his eyes.

“Jay,” you say softly, stroking his hair. “Let’s take a shower, yeah?” Normally you’d try for a bath to calm him instead but you hope the waterfall from the shower might be enough to drown out the noise.

He takes a second to respond, letting your hand bear the weight of his head. “Yeah.”

His voice is splintered though, and his shoulders droop as he stands up fully. He waits to move until you start to lead him, flinching at every spike of laughter. You reach back and take his hand, giving it two squeezes. He squeezes your hand back but doesn’t loosen his grip.

As you enter the bathroom he wastes no time getting straight to the shower nozzle and turning it on. You press the door shut behind you, sealing out a decent portion of the chaos. You decide against turning the overhead light on, opting instead to let the small pink-shaded lamp provide a warm glow that you can easily maneuver throughout the shadows in. You figure he needs a more tranquil atmosphere than the harsh white light the bathroom ceiling can provide.

You turn to him in time to catch him pulling his shirt up harshly, movements jerked and impatient.

You place a gentle hand on his forearm, “Hey.”

He pauses his actions, eyes on the floor.

You don’t say anything else, but he understands your objection regardless. You remove your touch and he peels his shirt off slower, kinder to himself. 

You wait to make sure he continues this method with the rest of his clothes before you start to remove yours.

The downpour of water on the tiles does it’s intended job in creating your own little sanctum away from the noise. You climb into the shower after him, standing in the stray mist sprays that made their way past him. The bits of water that do manage their way to you are hot—not scalding, but hot enough that you know his chest is going to start getting numb very soon standing in front of the stream like this. 

You trace lines over the muscles of his back, outlining them and every little indent of a scar. When you run out of canvas on his back you move onto his arms, right then left.

It’s not until you trace down his wrist that you realize his head is angled down. You don’t need to be standing in front of him to know that his focus is zeroed in on his scar and you’re not sure how long it's been that way. Too long, in any case.

“Jay,” you say so softly that the water nearly drowns you out. “Will you look at me, please?”

He does turn to you, slowly, but he doesn’t look up.

You hold his face in your hands, nudging him to look up at you. He looks tired, drained. 

You know he has to hear that laughter in a different way than you do. It’s uncomfortable and frightening for you, but for him, it’s layers upon layers of the sound he heard while he was being beaten to death. And even beyond that horrible trauma, the reminder of it brings forth every memory of what happened afterwards, not to mention the heavy baggage you know he feels over being here at all. And you can see it all mulling behind his eyes.

“You know I love you,” you tell him with sincerity. His gaze stays heavy and you can tell it’s a struggle for him to hold the eye contact.

You lean up to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth, catching his bottom lip slightly. Your next kiss meets his lips fully. You have to push up on your toes a little bit but he does the work of meeting you halfway. It’s a slow, intimate exchange, as fluid and serene as breathing.

“I love all of you,” you murmur against his lips. You let your hands fall to his chest, resting as gently as they can over his pecs. “Everything about you.”

You kiss the top of his Y scar, trailing down soft pecks to where it forks off. You feel his shoulders sag a bit, tension forcing its way out of him. You lean down to continue your kisses down the vertical line marking his abdomen, your hands lightly following in your wake.

He says your name painfully, like he’s begging you to stop. You’ll give him partial reprieve, taking his hands in yours and kissing his scarred knuckles. It’s his instinct to push affection away, you know that, but you also know that he needs it. That’s why he doesn’t stop you now—he knows he needs it—it’s just a lot for him all at once, emotionally. Which is why he gives no warning before he picks you up by your thighs and pulls you close. 

He’s got you a full head higher than him and he uses the difference to hide his face in your neck. Sometimes he feels like that’s the only place he can go. He maneuvers you around so your back is pressed up against the wall as you hold each other tight.

You stay in there like that until the water runs cold, and then some. You have to nudge him a bit into setting you back down then, but he does, letting you collect and wrap the both of you in towels. The second the water turns off you can hear the cackling through the walls. 

As you return to the bedroom, he only bothers to pull on a pair of boxers before collapsing his weight onto the mattress. The lack of layers won’t help him any, but you know why he did it.

He can’t always look after himself the way he should—he disregards his own needs and has trouble even thinking of what could help him. You’ve developed a mind for it though—for him—and you know that being exposed and vulnerable like this isn’t going to help him calm down. He prefers being covered up when he’s stressed, it gives him more security, you think.

You open up the dresser and dig through for his most comfortable hoodie and sweatpants. He takes them from you, but he looks remiss at the thought of exerting anymore energy right now, so you help him tug on the clothes, successfully blocking out the now icy air from the AC. 

Once he’s fully clothed he pulls you forward to sit on his lap. You stumble a bit on the way but he compensates by holding you very tight, not giving your body any option to fall. His grip on you tells you that he’s not concerned with you getting dressed too, which you’re perfectly willing to oblige.

You have to force him to let you break away a little bit so you can reach over to the nightstand and grab your phone and earbuds.

“Movie or music?”

He doesn’t say anything, only nods his head once at the end of your sentence. You take that to mean music and open up your playlist on your phone, handing him the headphones.

There’s a harsh spike in the hysterics outside, mixed with what sounds like screams, and it has Jason flinching hard. You think you can see tears welled in his eyes as he fumbles to get the headphones in his ears. He takes the phone from you and picks the first song he sees and turns the volume up, up, up.

You shift yourself around so that you’re laying back against the pillows, giving him room to lay down over your legs, wrapping his arms around your waist with a firm grip. You pull the hood up over his head, but keep your hands woven underneath, threading through his hair. 

His cheek mushes against your bare stomach, and with the way he’s laying, you’re sure the earbuds are digging uncomfortably into his ear. He makes no effort to move in any case. You can hear the song playing word for word, and while the noise exposure concerns you, if there was ever a time to let it go, it would be now.

You’re both wrapped up nicely in the blankets and you can only see the tip of his nose and a few strands of ivory hair strewn past his forehead. Despite all the snug layers, he shakes a bit under your touch.

He falls asleep before the problem outside gets wrapped up, and you turn down the music. Not all the way, just enough that he can rest in peace. 

After a while the giggles die down and aside from a few first responder sirens, things get quiet again. About twenty minutes later, Nightwing ducks in through your window and scares the hell out of you. The interaction does not, however, wake Jason up, which is how you know tonight took a very heavy toll on him.

Even though the lights aren’t on in your bedroom you slide down from the pillows a bit more and let the blanket and Jason drown your chest out from visibility.

Nightwing gives you a silent, if not awkward, wave and scans over Jason. Even in the dark can see the worry in his eyes. He looks back up at you and throws up a questioning thumbs up with a tilt of his head.

You nod and he nods back slowly as he takes one more look at his brother before hopping out the window.

You peer down at Jason and brush his curls back gently. His hold on you tightens just a bit as he turns in his sleep.

reblog or get out seriously

[mxauthor]

Magic Hands

Summary: Chilchuck is having trouble sleeping, Y/n's magic touch just might be the answer.

Word Count: 1,531

Warnings: fluff

Y/n was a touchy person. 

The party was well aware of this statement. Especially since they have been on the receiving end of their affection. Y/n never took it too far, always being mindful of everyone’s boundaries and their comfortability at all times. 

Marcille loved Y/n’s hugs and headpats, the (race) was always warm and gentle, squeezing just the right amount to where she felt safe. Laios found their playful fighting or their lighthearted shaking endearing. The tall-man was rambunctious at heart, so having someone to ‘play’ with allowed him to be serious at times of need. Senshi appreciated their pats on the back. It was their way of saying ‘thank you’, something he appreciated since he also wasn’t great with words or expressing himself. 

So it was no surprise that when the moment came and Chilchuck had started to become open with the party little by little, Y/n took a small chance. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was ‘late’ into the night. Laios had suggested that they camp for the night seeing as they had just reached the 6th floor of the dungeon. They set up camp and Senshi began dinner.

The party conversed lightly, talking of plans within the dungeon or things that needed to be gathered. Y/n and Marcille chatted with each other, Marcille talking about a book she read a while ago, while Y/n softly combed out her hair. 

They listened intently, making sure to ask questions to show the elven woman that they were paying attention. Senshi called them over, having finished dinner. The party had gathered around the fire with their food and began eating. The group ate in relative silence, a small comment here and there but silence nonetheless. 

Y/n and Chilchuck assisted Senshi with the dishes of the night, as Y/n was drying a bowl they lightly nudged the half-foot getting his attention. 

“You doing alright? You seem a little more tired than usual.” Y/n asked. They’ve begun to notice a slight lag in his step, not enough to cause him to misstep while disarming traps, but enough that his normal walking pace was a lot slower. 

“Yeah, just haven’t been getting enough sleep.” Chilchuck quietly shared. Sharing his feelings and struggles was still new, especially since it was something as simple as sleeping. 

Y/n hummed in acknowledgement, trying to find a reason for his current dilemma, “Is it nightmares?”

“No, I’ve already checked.” His voice was filled with defeat. Every night he looked within his pillow for the small monsters. He even ‘borrowed’ Laois’ monster book to see if there was another type that caused sleepless nights. “I even tried to look for another monster to see if they caused the same thing, but nothing.” 

The (hair color) could tell that he was exhausted. It wouldn’t take long until the rest of the party noticed and when they caught on, all they would do is try to pressure Chilchuck into telling them everything that was going on, or try and take over work which would frustrate the half-foot more than him not getting enough sleep. 

Y/n knew that he liked his privacy and that he liked to be able to carry his own weight, not relying on anyone to do it for him. They hummed in understanding, before offering a small solution, “I could try and make a tea for you. I’m sure I have something that causes sleepiness.” 

Chilchuck turned his head towards Y/n, “there’s no need for you to do that. I’ll manage.” 

Y/n tried to counter his statement, but they’ve both finished the dishes and Laios called them over to draw straws for night watch. Chilchuck dismissed himself, walking right over towards Laios and the rest of the forming group. 

Y/n watched in defeat before following behind. The group all grabbed their stick before pulling them. Each stick had a number, which decided the order. 

Y/n had gotten first watch. Followed by Marcille, Senshi, Laios, and Chilchuck. They watched as the tired man’s shoulders slumped in relief. The rest of the group began to set up for the night, with Y/n getting comfortable for watch. 

Marcille set up to their right, while Chilchuck claimed their left. Senshi and Laios closed the small gap, and a light fire was set in the middle for warmth. It didn’t take long for most of the party to fall asleep. The elven woman made sure that Y/n knew she was next.

With amusement, the (race) lightly patted her head and wished her a goodnight, disspelling her worries about making sure they followed the order of the lots. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

An hour passed when Y/n began to hear the ruffling of covers next to them. They glanced over to see Chilchuck slightly tossing and turning within his bedroll. Trying to get comfortable again.

Y/n watched as he rolled over a few more times, before setting their journal down. They had a feeling they should’ve made the drink anyway. Slightly moving closer, Y/n would see the frowned brows of the locksmith. They lightly pressed onto his pillow to see if a nightmare had crawled in during the watch, but it was completely soft. 

The (hair color) quietly huffed to themselves, but an idea struck.

This wasn’t the first time Y/n’s dealt with a sleepless night, especially when it was someone else. Before, when Marcille had become restless, Y/n would lightly run their fingers through her hair, lightly scratching her scalp in the process. 

The elf would always fall asleep immediately, almost like Y/n had pushed the insomnia away with their touch. 

Hesitantly, Y/n reached out to Chilchuck’s hair, they knew he wasn’t the most open to physical touch and the last thing Y/n wanted was to make him uncomfortable. Before their hand connected, the (race) whispered lightly, trying to not disturbed the others, “I’m sorry if I make you uncomfortable by doing this.” 

Even though Chilchuck tried to grasp onto the little remnants of sleep, his senses began to wake slowly. His hearing always being the first one. He had heard the ruffling next to him, knowing that Y/n was most likely still on watch, then it went quite their steady breathing being the only thing he could hear. 

Then, their apology. He was confused about what they meant, but the feeling of fingers pushing back his hair and nails lightly scratching his scalp had answered him loud and clear. 

Y/n’s touch was soft and delicate. They made sure not to press too hard or scratch too deep, making it soothing enough that it was like a massage. Chilchuck had half a mind to push them away, but his forced closed eyes became heavy. His body was relaxing, and his mind was calming down. He sagged deeper into his bedroll, having to actually fight the sleep to continue feeling the heavenly sensation.

With the last of his consciousness, Chilchuck murmured out his thanks before falling asleep deeply. 

Y/n watched as his furrowed brows softened and his breathing evened out. They heard a light murmur of words, “feels nice.” 

The (race) shifted back towards their own bedroll, they were going to continue with their journal, listing down all the findings within the dungeon. But an imaginary pull had coaxed them into moving their bedroll closer towards the half-foot. It took little back and forth between themselves, before lightly pulling it over. 

Y/n continued to scratch his scalp, wanting to make sure he’d be in a deeper sleep before they removed their hand. Their movement almost hypnotizing, making sleep pull at their own mind, coaxing them into its warm grasp. Blinking the sleep away, Y/n slowed their movements until they came to a full stop. They then pulled their hand away, seeing as Chilchuck’s breathing became deep and constant. 

It didn’t make a drastic change, it was just enough that if Chilchuck needed another round of coaxing, they were close enough to reach over. With a small satisfied smile, Y/n continued working, happy that they were able to assist with Chilchuck's dilemma after all. 

Bonus: 

After the switch over, it took Marcille a little over an hour before she noticed the two of them. She thought Y/n’s bedroll was a little farther than when she fell asleep, but now it made more sense. 

Once her eyes had cleared enough and her mind was fully awake, she saw how Y/n’s hand was perched within Chilchuck’s hair, and how his own hand was laying within the crook of their elbow, almost like he was trying to keep them from pulling away. If she looked closer, Marcille could see the look of content within Chilchuck’s features, almost like a missing piece was put into place just perfectly.

It took everything within her to not squeal in delight. From the beginning, Marcille believed that Y/n and Chilchuck would be a perfect match. Maybe it was all her romance novels, but his grumpy nature and their soft personality had her swooning with the idea. 

Marcille watched on, only thinking one thing, ‘I wish I could draw.’

[cultofdixon]

Secrets kept for another’s safety, until you lose it

Daryl Dixon • She/Her Pronouns • Some Saviors just can’t let go and go for what’s important to Daryl Dixon. But little did he know about more than losing his partner. • ANGST/SFW • TW: Pregnancy / Injuries / Anxiety Attacks / Blood loss

Requested by: Anon

Just because the Saviors War is over, doesn’t mean it’s completely dealt with. People have their vendettas and everyone will forever be scarred by the actions of Negan, apart of the Saviors or not.

When Negan was taken to prison instead of hell, the group decided that it would be best to have shifts of their people to watch The Sanctuary until they’ve fixed everything. Or until they put someone in there for a more permanent position.

After a month in and it was Daryl and Y/N’s turn to watch the place. Both having their own imprisonment to the place because of Negan. So they weren’t all too happy to be back. But the night gave them time to themselves.

Which led them on the roof this night…

“What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?” Daryl asks, putting the joint back to his lips watching Y/N finish putting up the last of their clothes on the clothesline. “You haven’t talked in a bit”

“Am I really that talkative?” She laughs softly, tossing the extra pins in the empty laundry basket. “I’m just enjoying the night with my husband. What else more could I ask for?”

“Could go dark on yea and say for Negan to be dead”

“Well you’re not the only one wanting that” Y/N sat on the stool while Daryl laid on a mattress they had brought up there. Neither of them want to live inside the walls anymore. “Can we just think toward the future?”

“We can” Daryl pushed himself to sit up, offering the joint to her as she shook her head. He stared a bit confused before shrugging it off. “Again, sunshine…what’s going on in that beautiful mind of yours?”

Y/N fell silent once more before looking out toward the woods trying to find a good start to what she wants to talk about.

“You remember when you first held Judith?”

“Lil’ Ass kicker, yeah?”

“Do you remember what you told me afterward? When you handed her off to Hershel?”

The confused look on his face gave her answer.

“You said I don’t think I’d be cut out for this if I were Rick.”

“Why are yea bringing that up now? Are you—-“

“No!…No…” Y/N visibly slumped. “It’s just. The threat is gone. We have a home that is ours. Walls to protect us from the dead…we could. Do it. Have a child. Have that future…”

Give Daryl some credit when he has thought about this before. Having a child with his wife…all of their love put into a single human being. But all the anxieties that came with that thought flooded his mind.

“I don’t wanna lose you like Rick lost Lori” For something that happened years ago, it still haunted him. Especially with the scares they’ve had before a true moment of peace came.

“Daryl…that…that was going to happen to Lori regardless…she had a c-section with Carl, any baby after that was bound to come out the same way. This would be a first for me. We could prevent the possibility of needing a c-section”

“But there’s still a chance. I…” Daryl stopped himself to avoid her eyes and hang his head not ever wanting to think about that possibility. But then again…what was he going to do? “I just can’t” he whispers which led Y/N to bring herself to his level and coax his gaze back onto her. “I can’t lose you…I…I’ve lost enough and everything about how I’d be a terrible father aside I won’t be able to raise our child alone if I lost you…I will always need you”

As much as it broke Y/N’s heart to know his feelings and to have to push aside hers because the last thing she would want is to lose or hurt her husband…the tears fell from her eyes as she presses her forehead against his.

“Okay. Okay…You won’t lose me. Ever. I’m here…just me” Y/N brought her arms around his shoulders bringing her face into the crook of his neck as Daryl wrapped his arms tightly around her holding her close.

The things you do for love will always be something…that will always be changing

About four months later…

Y/N finally emerges from the basement living she and Daryl live in under the Grimes’s residence. She gave a smile to Michonne who said “good morning” in her arrival watching her friend join her and Judith at the kitchen island.

“Think you can handle breakfast?”

“Yes, I think I finally got over that ill spell” Y/N took a seat at one of the barstools smiling to Judith beside her before drawing her attention to the quick footsteps making their descend down the stairs.

“Hey! You’re up here, how yea feeling? Yknow Daryl—-“

“Has been having you ask every day since I came back from the Sanctuary not feeling well. I’m doing okay. Better than before”

“Great to hear that, I’ll tell Daryl in person when I make my rounds to the other communities” Rick smiles approaching Judith who was happy to see her dad. “First thing, take this little one to the teacher to watch her while we’re all out”

Michonne gave Y/N a confused look as she tiredly turned to her lifting her head from her hand.

“I’m gonna work in the pantry. So I don’t feel entirely useless”

“You’re allowed to take it easy” Michonne was stern with her words which brought the confusion out of Rick’s expression while he picked up Judith heading toward the door.

“I think I’ll be fine” Y/N shot a stern look at her friend as Michonne instantly waited for the front door to close, ultimately for Rick to leave. “The baby will be fine”

“Y/N, when are you going to tell Daryl so this doesn’t have been a secret between you and I? You’ve mentioned about a conversation you had with him that doesn’t quite add up to the fact that you didn’t——“

“He doesn’t want to have a baby.” Y/N frowns forming fists as she had the habit of digging her nails into her flesh to avoid the crying. “He doesn’t want to have a baby with him and I promised I wouldn’t. But I still got knocked up. Now he’s going to lose me or I’m going to lose him” the tears came anyway as the frustration was obvious in the discomfort in her face which led Michonne to maneuver around the island to bring herself beside her friend letting her rest her head on her shoulder as her arms caged her. “All I wanted was a family with the man that I love but the factors of being good enough or dying unexpectedly just floods that man’s mind and hell I can’t blame him for any of it. But now I’m plagued with it while I carry his child”

The two didn’t hear the click of the door finally closing. All that mattered was Michonne comforting her friend until it was time for the day to get started.

“I’ll be helping Gabriel rebuild his chapel with a few Saviors we have taken in for rehabilitation to show they can do something good. We are thinking of making it also the leading to the farm” Michonne stated as she walked Y/N to the pantry. “So I will be around if you need me. I’ll also keep an eye on the saviors. I know what some of them have been saying but we haven’t come across one angry with Rick or Daryl or literally any one of us”

“Are you really trying to say you’re watching out for my safety when I’m gonna be confined to a chair and a notepad for the most part”

“Yes, yes I am. Plus…the infirmary is right next door and I know Siddiq is doing his inventory and preparing shipment of medical supplies we’ve found on the runs we had recently.”

“Michonne”

“Yes?”

“You’re rambling” Y/N laughs opening the door to let herself in. “I’ll holler if I need anything” she says halfway inside when Michonne quickly reminded her about the no heavy lifting which got a scoff out of the woman.

About an hour or two has passed and Y/N groans out of boredom while sitting on the stool in the pantry. She stared out the window watching people walk passed or the few groups carrying wood and metal around for the walls and new buildings. Inventory was done, restock of what they have was done, and she was about to get started on the shipment for the Kingdom when she heard the door open.

“Michonne I really don’t need you watching—-“ Y/N stopped speaking when she watched the unfamiliar man step in quietly, assessing the environment. “Uhm. Can I help you with anything?”

“I was told by that scary priest that we hold the extra building supplies in here on occasion when the shed ain’t organized” He stepped around the pantry looking for himself before looking at Y/N as she couldn’t shake this familiar feeling. “You’ve got nails? Maybe a better hammer than this shit?” The hammer she didn’t notice before only confused her on where he pulled it out from. But asides from that, Y/N got off the chair and went to grab such for him.

“How’s the construction going?”

“It’s going. That Rick guy has us doing a lot just has his woman bossing us around” He scoffs looking at the jarred goods they have while Y/N knelt down to carefully go through a box for a smaller box of nails. “How can you even do what Rick asks y’all to do?”

“Have you even met Rick? He does the right thing, most of the time” Keeping Negan alive was the wrong one.

As Y/N rose to her feet with the box of nails she watched the man pull off the Polaroids that were stuck to the window. Just for a better look but it made her uneasy thinking he was going to get rid of them.

“Family?” He questions lifting up the ones with Glenn and Maggie, watching Y/N nod as he fixated on one with her and Daryl before putting them back. “Find’em?”

“Yeah, here” She handed off the box hearing him thank her before stepping out. But before she could even straighten out the pictures and take a seat, Y/N didn’t hear the door close entirely.

It didn’t take long for what to happen, happen.

The second she rounded the corner…Y/N flinched slightly being up close to the man without a name. She looked down to find a few nails shoved deep into her side. The shock made the pain not come right away and she was still experiencing it while he drove them to the point he couldn’t.

“You are just as dumb as you were back when you were his wife.” He glares into the deep pits of her soul as Y/N lifted her head from watching the blood spill from her side. Her mind racing to one thing. “Rick shoulda killed him. Your bitch dog of a man shoulda killed him. Maybe even the sword lady. Anybody. Then you all would’ve been seen as stronger instead of weak ass beings.”

“I-…I—-“ Y/N felt the tears spill and he grabbed her face to make her force eye contact.

“Let me take you away from everybody and I’ll watch them suffer” then the man quickly removed his hand when he heard voices outside. He pushed her aside but the blood loss led it to be a bit more dramatic as she fell to her knees.

As he made his escape through the back, Y/N slumped against the wall hesitant to touch her side. But they weren’t in prime condition, they could have some traces of rust and she can’t afford an infection if she wants any chance of that surviving.

A few were hard to pull out and one was embedded deep that Y/N contemplated letting it stay in but she was already this far.

Baby.

Baby.

Baby.

Baby.

…

Daryl… Y/N sobbed as she used her knife to cut into her to pull out the last nail that was embedded deep. She had to stop the bleeding so she could go get help and knew she had towels in the other room out of the foyer. But the blood loss was too much that when her weak body crawled about halfway there, it gave out.

“Daryl”

“I know this shithole sucks but yea said you’d be here earlier” Daryl clearly was in a mood while working on his bike, and with Rick only crossing his arms with an annoyed expression after his words. He knew he shouldn’t have expressed all of that. “Sorry. I’m frustrated.”

“Did something happen?”

“No…” Daryl frowns fiddling with a tool in hand. “Y/N hasn’t radio’d me today. Michonne was gonna give hers to my girl so I can check up on her but nothin’”

“I’m sure there’s a good reason for that. Plus I’ve got uh…an update of my own regarding your wife” Now he had to be careful. He did hear everything in the kitchen that morning but Rick isn’t the best at de-escalating the situation.

But it felt like fate for him to be interrupted by his radio in that exact moment.

“Rick—-Are you with Daryl?”

“Gabriel? Yes, why?”

“Michonne—-Hilltop” his end was cutting out and the urgency only stressed the retired sheriff and huntsman. “Bleeding—-Stopped—-Other reasons—-Y/N”

“Gabriel. Who’s injured?!” Rick shouts annoyed as the silence grew for a moment.

“Y/N was found bleeding—-Attacked—-Go to Hilltop”

“Load up. Forget the bike” Rick stated even though the second Daryl heard it was confirmed to be Y/N, he went right into the driver’s seat of Rick’s truck. Rick quickly got in the passengers and didn’t wait another minute to tell Daryl.

The accident happened a few hours ago before Gabriel radio’d Rick. He only comm’d him as per request from Michonne to update him and to get Daryl on their current actions of getting Y/N to the Hilltop. For their ultrasound machine. The one from the Sanctuary got moved to the Kingdom to be repaired by a retired technician.

Y/N sat up in bed in the medical trailer not liking the feeling of the IV in her arm and the antibiotics Siddiq had her on. Made the sick feeling return and the nausea meds never worked on her.

“Daryl is on his way” Michonne frowns sitting in the chair beside her as Maggie sat at the edge of the bed with her hand rested on her calf. Both being protective of her in her current state.

“I didn’t get a name of the guy…”

“Hun we don’t have to do that now” Maggie assured her. “Aaron and Rosita are looking for the guy back home with the description you gave before they moved you here. We don’t have to talk about it at all and focus on you staying alive and healthy”

The tears returned as Y/N pulled her hand away so she could hide her face in them. As she sobbed she didn’t hear the sound outside of 1. The car stopping in front of the trailer. 2. Daryl shouting at a few people. And 3. The sound of a Hilltop resident screaming after Daryl shoved them out of his way to get inside the trailer. The second the door opened and his worry expelled from him, Michonne and Maggie got up from their spots moving so he could get close to his wife.

Michonne motioned for Maggie to leave with her as she instantly went to Rick to talk about the guy that attacked Y/N.

Daryl instantly wrapped his arms around her feeling her grab fists full of his vest, making him want to squeeze her but he instantly pulled away when she winced. He started to check her person himself even if Siddiq does a great job with his assessment after dealing with the main problem. He even checked her bandages watching the discomfort grow on her face along with a few tears still falling.

“Are you okay? What did that bastard do to yea? Is the peanut okay?”

“What?”

“Is the baby okay?” Daryl’s voice cracked when asking that question as it only made Y/N cry even more giving him mixed signals.

Someone told him she thought and as much as that brought relief, it brought a lot of regret and pain that she didn’t tell him herself.

As she pulls from his touch, Daryl watches her reach for the table beside the bed grabbing a piece of paper before returning and giving it to him. He carefully took it into his hands looking at the picture of the peanut that was very much still there. He exhales relieved, feeling his own tears spill and the softness of her hands gently wipe them away.

“I’m sorry—-“

“No.” Daryl cut her off setting the photo in her lap so he could take her hands into his. “I…I shouldn’t have said what I said months ago…I didn’t want to push you away ever if this were to happen. Cuz let’s be honest with ourselves, we fuck like bunnies. It was bound to happen” he broke out in a smile listening to Y/N laugh to his words. He planted a kiss on her cheek as she kept that smile of hers. “We…we can die to anythin’ and that shouldn’t stop us from living.”

“Daryl…”

“Let’s go home, sunshine. Let me protect the both of yea”

Daryl helped Y/N get in the car before approaching the small group that was fixated on the woman.

“There’s a lead”

“You know I’m not gonna hesitate to kill that guy” Daryl stated and instead of receiving the usual Rick talk about no need to go far he was genuinely confused. “What”

“I’m going to help you get the son of a bitch. He does want to take us out because of Negan”

“You’re willing to be bait?”

“If Rick gets hurt, your ass is next” Michonne threats with a smile before joining Y/N in the car giving them a bit more time to discuss then joining their partners.

The day progresses into the night and Daryl found the right moment to slip away from his spot beside his wife so he could leave the house to take care of business.

As the man climbs over the wall after hiding out until night, he stumbled on his landing and when he straightened up he was face to face with Rick.

“Seriously. Just let me go”

“I don’t think that’s gonna happen”

“Like you of all people will pull the trigger” He scoffs, making the mistake of reaching for his weapon because that led to a bolt piercing him in the side of the skull.

Rick watches the body fall limp to the floor before turning to Daryl emerging from the shadows.

“There’s gonna be more like him” Rick stated. “We won’t kill them all”

“Anybody, and I fucking mean anybody…who comes near my pregnant wife the way that guy did? Will meet the same fate”

And on that note, he returned back to his spot beside Y/N who instantly rolled over to face him and bring herself close.

[laceylavender]

Gale and Katniss are proof that you can grow up in the same circumstances and still learn to see the world in a different way.

Growing up in famine, abuse, violence, poverty and under control of a corrupt government gave them similar circumstances to grow up in: being the oldest sibling, their fathers dying in the mine, becoming the providers of the house at an early age, losing almost everything to said government. While Katniss developed a sense of empathy for everyone affected by this government (whether they were more privileged than her, or not), Gale developed a sense of hatred and thirst for vengeance because the people that weren’t his people had privileges that no one should have, while his family and his friends were being starved, or killed.

That’s why from an early age (pre-teen to full blown teenage years) he had always been thinking with the mindset of a hunter, only he wasn’t only hunting in the forest for prey and food, he was hunting in the real world and he was hunting his enemies, perpetrators and by-standers who did nothing to stop them, they all fit in the same category for him: the enemy. He grew up thinking of ways in which he could kill them if he could, that’s why earlier in the books he tells Katniss he would kill the Capitol citizens if he could, they were nothing to him.

When Gale sees the Capitol bomb and fire his district and kill his people, then gets evacuated to district 13 and has the opportunity to do something, to be of value and design strategies that can help kill said enemy, he does it. No second thought.

The thing is, both Katniss and Gale were right in certain aspects, especially in those they couldn’t agree on, and for me is easy to see from the perspective of both.

In war it should be common rule to offer the possibility of surrender first, but when your enemy doesn’t surrender and you see your own army lose more and more members, you attack - most of the time these are “last resort” attacks that end in lots of human life lost, but when you still give them a last chance to surrender like they did with the train in 2, it still shows a little glimpse of hope and empathy, that not everything has to be lost to war, and this is the part Gale didn’t understand, because if he paid too much thought to it, the lines would get blurred in his head, it was easier to see in black and white.

Personally, I’m in a grey zone when it comes to both of their thinking, and that’s why as a world with increasing and escalating issues we’ve created mechanisms like humanitarian law, war law, international human rights, etc, etc, we need to draw the lines, this is the playbook Katniss was referring to. What’s too much in war? A bullet to the head? Burying people in a mountain just for the sake of killing them? Where’s the line? Hijacking and manipulating people, stripping them of their consciousness and identity? Sending children into an arena to murder each other? Human trafficking? Sex trafficking? You see where I’m going? This is not about Gale, it’s about war.

Look at history, look around you. What do you see? What do you make of it? And please, use critical thinking. Is it acceptable to kill group B if they’ve killed people from group A? Do people from group B deserve a second chance, although their victims didn’t? Your opinion and reasoning depends a lot on the morals you have, and your own experience with war and abuse, which, if you’ve been lucky enough not to have a first hand experience with it, you should also take it into consideration before saying something. Just think, consider, see beyond yourself, see from different points of you, keep the definition of good and evil close to your hand and take note where they start to get blurry. What do you see?

[yelenasdiary]

could you do a florence one shot please 🙏

flo and reader are both actresses on a big film and do loads of pr and interviews together and in groups, they’ve also been seeing each other secretly since filming began. in all the interviews there’s a flirty undertone and enough comments that fans start to get suspicious.

Secrets Behind The Camera

Pairing: Florence Pugh x Fem! Reader

Summary: With a new Christmas romcom moving coming out starring yourself, Florence Pugh and a few other big names, the press tour brings to light a little secret you’ve been keeping from the world.

Warnings: None | 0.8K

AC: Saved this cutie for Christmas 🤭 I hope you enjoy! X 

Holiday Special Masterlist

From photoshoots to interviews to movie premieres, the world watched as your career as an actress only grew bigger and brighter. You were more than proud of how far you've come but more especially since the wrap up on filming your latest movie. Reflecting back on the last 12 months you've really learned a lot about the acting industry, things you didn't think you'd learn until many years down the track. As you look back at all the new memories and friendships you've made while being a part of this new film, a smile creeps onto your lips when you hear your girlfriend lightly knock on the bedroom door. 

"Good morning sleepy head" she smiles while holding a breakfast smoothie in her hand.

"I didn't sleep in that late" you replied, sitting up with your back rested against of the hotel's bedhead. 

"We have to be at hair and make-up in an hour" the blonde replied as she handed you the smoothie and placed a kiss on your forehead. 

You met Florence at a table reading for the movie, trying to keep your excitement to a minimum about meeting her, you accidentally spilt your bottle of water over your draft script and ended up having to share Florence's to avoid the bad impression on the others. Since then, the two of you naturally grew closer, your characters played best friends in the film and there was plenty of laughs shared on set. Florence asked you over to her LA apartment one night after a long day of filming. 

To your surprise Florence somehow had the energy in her to cook dinner for the two of you and since then, a friendship formed into a relationship. Nobody knew besides those closest to you and now that the press tour for the movie has kicked off, keeping the relationship on the low was only growing harder with each interview. 

The internet was flooded with speculation of you and Florence being a little more than friends, video edits of how the two of you would look lovingly at one another whenever one was answering questions or just taking a second to admire on when the other wasn't looking. It was safe to say that the two of you were Hollywood's new hottest topic. 

"Do you wanna go into together?" You asked, taking a sip of the breakfast smoothie.

"You really were tired last night" Florence chuckled, "we already made that plan darling" she added before walking over to her suitcase to begin packing her things. "I knew that" you playfully shook your head. 

----

"I have to ask, have you both seen the craze about you both online?" The interviewer asked as the interview began to wrap up. You looked over at Florence who had a cheeky grin on her lips before the both of you chuckled, "we have and we think it's lovely! When you get to work on anything you can this wonderful chance to meet new people and make beautiful connections! Y/n is wonderful to be around and has always had this way of bringing out the best in everybody around her" Florence replied to your surprise. Her answer quickly sent the nerves building up to fade away, the interviewer smiled and thanked you both before the two of you were able to wander back to the dressing rooms. 

Florence pulled you close from behind the minute the door closed before her, finally, the two of you were alone for a moment. "Your cheeks looked rather red before" she teased as she looked into your eyes. "It's getting a lot harder not to just kiss you in front of all those cameras" you admitted with a rather cheeky grin of your own. 

"But that would expose our secret" the blonde chuckled only for you to crash your lips against hers, "you bring out the best in me" you whispered against her lips before pulling away. Flo smiled softly as she brought a hand to cup your face, "and I meant what I said darling. You bring out a side of me I never knew existed" she replied before kissing you softly. 

The next morning you woke up to more notifications your phone had ever seen, friends that you hadn't shared the news with asking the question the rest of the world wanted to know. Playfully you rolled your eyes and ignored the question and placed your phone on do not disturb as you felt Florence wrap an arm around your waste while her eyes flickered open, "it's too early" she mumbled in her raspy morning voice that somehow had this hold over you.

"Shhh, go back to sleep baby, I'm not going anywhere" you replied in a whisper as you turned in her hold to face her, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear as you listened to her soft snores return. Your thumb stroking her cheek ever so softly as your mind wondered to the first day you met her and how nervous you were, Florence was right, working on this movie not only opened a door of endless possibilities for your career but you find a happiness you thought only existed in fairytales.

Taglist: @red1culous | @bentleywolf29 | @jeyramarie | @lissaaaa145 | @high--power | @parkerdaramitzzzz | @mmmmokdok | @wackymcstupid | @kiwiana145  | @sophie-xox | @observeowl | @nattyolw | @ripofflizzie | @get-the-fuck-outta-here | @goofy-goonie | @makegoodchoices | @apollo2907 | @marvelfan98 | @wandaroman0ff | @dumb-fawkin-bitch | @lovelyy-moonlight | @santana1437 | @sophie-xox | @fluffyblanketgecko | @inluvwithfictionalwomen | @jaymieflorissssssss | @tita001 | @youralphawolf72 | @crescent-witch | @randomnessbecausewhynot | @natashamaximoff69 | @a-dorkier-book-keeper | @hehehehannahthings | @blue-serendipityy | @secrettoallofyou | @romantic-slaps-on-the-asss | @marvel-fan-2021 | @mmmmokdok | @riveramorylunar | @ripofflizzie | @toldthatdevil | @itsmv3 | @katiemay-025 | @livresjaunes | @maria-403 | @boredandneedfanfics | @wandamaximoffspuppup | @xox-little-troublemaker-xox | @shibugs | @livresjaunes | @music-4ever | 

[persephone11110]

tummy hurts || j.seresin

tw:grooming,childhood trauma, emotional manipulation, past sexual abuse->child sexual abuse, self victim blaming-victim blaming (not jake) mentions of alcohol, past child neglect, the school system failed, jake calls reader goldie, Y/n hit Jake in chest a couple of times

summary:“Little girls like you aren’t loved”.Your head was laying on the pillow next to him, your naked bodies touching eachother, he loved you…you loved him.

IMPORTANT NOTE: this is a very sensitive topic so please tread carefully also please let me know if there should be more trigger warnings

AN: a fic born after falling into a PLL hole on tik tok and the title comes from Tummy Hurts- Renee Rapp. Also ngl the reason Ive on a break was bcus my fics were going downhill and sad as it is it hard watching other fics blow up and your can’t even make it to double digits within hours.

—

THIS FIC IS ABOUT CHILD SEXUAL ABUSE/ SEXUAL ASSAULT, SELF& VICTIM BLAMING, AND CHILD NEGLECT

—

“Sweetheart?” Jake asked slowly, unsure if his old man hearing was fucking with him. His voice dropped to a lower tone as more rage filled his chest.

Saturday nights were designated for you dine with your husband. A night were you and Jake catch up with each other, his aviation schedule and your college professor schedule was hard to work with.

You hated drinking more than one glass of wine as it always made your tongue loose. Somehow you managed to pour another glass it felt nice to let loose—what didn’t feel nice was your husband knowing how much dignity you didn’t have as a teenager.

“Goldie, you were how old” Jake grabs your hand, gently taking the glass out of your hand. Careful not talk to roughly. He watches as the color drains out of your face.

You were lucky enough to have a history teacher who didn’t give up on his students—especially not you.

Mr.Daniels, the best history teacher there was, he had goods and bad days. But who didn’t?

You and him bonded over the love of historical events. He didn’t tell you to stop talking or, to get the hell out. He would sit there with a warm smile listening to you go on and on about history.

You don’t how many times you’ve tried talking about your interests to mom and dad. And how many times they’ve stared at you with a blank face, or told you to go away.

But Mr. Edward Daniels didn’t. You had the privilege to call him Eddie when it was just the two alone inside the classroom after school hours.

He called you Y/n and you called him Eddie when you laid your mop of brown curls aganist his bare chest.

His blue sheets wrapped your naked body, the hickeys that riddled your stomach and hips.

“I was fifteen Jake”. you sighed dropping your hands into your lap. “He was a freshman history teacher—it was his first year teaching”.

“Y/n Collins”, he dropped a hand onto your shoulder, “I like the way you argue kid”.

“Fifteen, jesus”, Jake rubbed a hand over his face,“How come you never brought this up before sweetheart?”.

Not even a butcher knife could cut through the silence in the room.

Because you loved him. He gave you the love that no one else would.

“Its been over decade Jake…. times were different back then”. You said, chewing at the bottom of your lip. Your bouncy leg betrayed in how confident you sounded in your response.

“Doesn’t matter what decade were in you were a child and he was adult”. He softly glared at you, “His job was to protect and teach you about wars and he couldn’t even do that”.

You leaned back into couch wishing the damn thing would swallow you whole. Why’s Jake trying to make you seem like a victim—you aren’t one you and Eddie were lovers in the past.

Jake sat across from you he had a death grip on the beer bottle. “He loved me Jake, he was the first man to ever give me a chance of being loved”.

Jake felt the need to empty his stomach at the words that came from your mouth. He scooted closer to you, there wasn’t any space between the both of you anymore.“Was it just a one time?”.

You couldn’t look your own husband in the eye.

Jake would know how dirty his wife is.

Your silence was enough for him,“It wasn’t one time Y/n?”. Jake eyebrows furrowed,“Y/n whatever answer you give I hope you know I’d never shame or judge you”.

“We lasted for atleast for over year in half, before the school transfered him out of state”.

How long would It take me to find him and kill him.

Son of a bitch was transferred, he didn’t lose his teaching license.

“Goldie”,Jake calls your name gently—while grabbing your hands into his. “Look at me”.

You curled into yourself—Jake’s mad at you. “ Please don’t yell at me”. your voice hiccuped, you were begging him. You could handle anything but Jake Seresin yelling at you with so much anger and digust filled in his voice.

“Oh I could never blame you baby not now, not ever”. He gently cupped the side of your face, “I need you to understand how this isn’t your fault baby”. He moved around and positioned himself to make your foreheads touch eachother.

“Jake” you mumbled before you shoving your face into his neck. “I’m-”.

Jake shook his head at you he gently pulled from him,“Darlin i don’t wanna you even to think about apologizing to me”, He pressed a kiss into your cheek before speaking again.“The only one who deserves that is you, the adults around you should’ve looked out for you, your parents had one job and it was to just love you”.

You curled into yourself, you didn’t deserve Jakes love.

“Sweetheart i’m sorry for my rant here it just makes me angry that all those adults in your life and no one protected you, a innocent child who willed for love and attention from her parents”. You held onto Jake tightly afraid that in a split second he change his mind and leave you.

Your breathing became shaky and weak the hiccups got worse—your sobs got louder.

You weren’t a victim.

Jake Seresin didn’t know what he was talking about, your husband wasn’t there fifteen years ago.

He’s wrong-.

“Sweetheart”. Jake reached to grab you, “Y/n”.

Your arms become flailing, your were pretty sure your hands and Jakes chest connected atleast once or twice.

“Its okay Y/n, Its okay sweetheart”, Jake was finally able to get a grip on you—pulling your head ontop of his chest. “Shh baby, let it all out”.

“He hurt me so much Jake and nobody cared”, you sobbed.“When I finaly got the courage to tell my parents they looked at me and the first thing that came out their mouth was whore. “Y/n how much of whore do you have to be to sleep with a man well into his early forties?” -.

Jake wiped a tear from your face.“You got someone who cares Y/n, you have someone who loves you just as you are”. Jake sighed, would he be bad person if he took the nearest flight to his wife hometown and he beat old man to a pulp?

Bad man or good husband?, those lines tend to blur when the love of his life gets hurt.

“Baby just say the word me and the daggers can hop the earliest flight and kill a man, while Ice and Mav are our alibi’s”.

Jake catches a small smile breaking through—its small but he’ll take it . “Theres that smile that broke my pool winning streak”,Jake smiles into your shoulder.

“Thank you Jake for loving me, thank you for piecing back my broken pieces”. you murmured quietly, knowing that if you go another octave higher theres a chance that you’ll start crying again.

“Oh baby I should be thanking you, you trusted me with your heart— and Y/n you were always whole you just didn’t feel it”.

My tummy doesn’t hurt anymore.

[everlasting-rainfall]

I'm imaging a platonic version of your pages au with Whitebeard...

Maybe the book is about found family with a "larger than life" pirate who adopts the MC and Whitebeard reads it during his medical appointments and believes it's about him and his "new daughter", so he tracks down the author and abducts her so she can join her new family.

Any thoughts? 👀

OH MY GOD, THANK YOU SO MUCH!!! I ADORE PLATONIC YANDERE’S LIKE THEY MAKE ME 🎆🎇🎆!! I LOVE THEM SO MUCH!!!

Thank you so much for sending this ask in, dearie!! I’ll make sure that it’s a lot of fun to read!! And for any of you reading this, feel free to send in some more stuff about platonic yandere’s especially if it’s Familial Yandere’s!

God, I love it so much!! It’s so freaking cute!!

Anyways before I start exploding like fireworks sprayed with a flamethrower, let’s get into it! Shall we?

I hope this is what you want! Also keep in mind that there’s no romance here, it’s all Platonic!!

!-MINORS DO NOT INTERACT AT ALL-!

!-POTENTIAL TRIGGER WARNINGS-!

Delusions, Kidnapping, Getting Heavily Babied, Character Death, Spoilers for Marineford, No Chance of Escape, Trapped Forever

!-POTENTIAL TRIGGER WARNINGS-!

!-MINORS DO NOT INTERACT AT ALL-!

Okay so let’s say that the books are still about romance like there’s still the Pirate versus Marine love story but you decided to take a break from writing about that story to focus on something else like maybe you wrote a new book in the series

And this book entirely focuses on the main character getting separated from the love interests like maybe there was an accident at sea that made the MC fall overboard and they wind up being found by like this other group

This group takes them in and they’re kinda hostile at first but they become more trusting and caring over time eventually deciding to basically adopt the MC into the group as like the youngest sibling to the parent of the group

It doesn’t last forever though as at the end of the book, there’s a tearful goodbye between the main character as they’ve been found by the pirate and the marine so they have to return to their old life, a promise is made to not forget them and the group even helps the main character and their friends escape some pursuing enemies

End on a note of the parental figure of the group watching as the main character vanishes into the distance with their love interests and quietly saying “May you always find happiness, my dear son/daughter” or something to that extent

So with enough time, this book eventually lands in the hands of Whitebeard like let’s say that Marco got it for him to keep him from getting bored during his medical appointments and he appreciates the gift from his son so I’d say that he reads it

Like he’s sitting there getting a check up for his health and at first, he’s a little bored especially as he has no clue what’s going on due to this being a book later on in the series but he does know that he doesn’t like the Pirate or the Marine as they both seem annoying to him

He was about to put the book down and never touch it again but figured that he had about an hour left on the appointment so he might as well keep reading so he does getting to the part where the MC meets the group and gets taken in

Now he’s getting a bit interested and so he keeps reading getting more and more interested, he’s actually smiling quite a bit when the Main Character gets adopted into the group as the youngest sibling but when he finally reaches the end of the book and finds out that the Main Character leaves with the two characters that he finds annoying

God, you practically see the despair in his eyes…

His hopes perk up a little when he reads that the group arrives to save the Main Character and the two annoying ones (his words, not mine) from an enemy as he thinks that the leader of the group might take the MC back telling the two of them to get lost

But instead, the MC sails off into the distance and Whitebeard is left staring at the final sentence of the book alongside the illustration of the leader of the group looking off into the sunset

He can’t stand the idea of this and when he finds out this is a series of books, he remains somewhat hopeful that maybe the MC will go back to the group to be part of their family again so he asks Marco to buy the other books in the series when they reach a new island

Marco does of course and gives them to Whitebeard so now anytime that he’s bored or getting a medical appointment, he picks up one of the books and starts reading in hopes that what he wants will happen but alas… No such thing happens…

Throughout the books, there is brief mention of the group but they never appear again as maybe that book didn’t do too well with the audience that primarily reads your books or you just didn’t wanna include them again

The MC never goes back to the group, it’s enough to make this poor old man’s heartbreak and when he sees who the MC wound up with in the end it’s just about enough to make him want to get rid of these books

He almost does too like he was this close to ripping them up but instead he sees one last thing that makes him stop, he looks at the back of the book and sees your picture thanking your readers for the support along with telling them that you’re going to move onto other things but he doesn’t care much for that as he keeps staring at the picture

Is it just him or do you look just like how he envisioned the Main Character to look?

And now that he really thinks about it too… Is it just him or did the group seem eerily similar to the Whitebeard Pirates?

I mean the right hand man is a bird and the group leader is described as being as big as a whale plus a gun slinging cross dresser, a cook with a pompadour, and a narcoleptic with fire powers? There’s no way

He goes back and reads the book that introduced to the series and he sees even more similarities however whether they’re actually there or not is up to you but lord knows that it’s unintentional if it’s true

With this, Whitebeard basically has a lightbulb go off in his head as it’s clear to him now that you’re the youngest member of their family and he needs to go find you as clearly you’re in an unhappy relationship and just want to come home to Pops and your brothers

Well don’t worry as Pops is coming and he’s bringing the family who with some brief convincing have wound up just as deluded as Whitebeard is as they all really think that you’re some kind of lost member of their family

It’s gonna take a while to find you like I’d give it about a week at the least but a month at the most, he’s coming for you and it’s not like anyone can stop him as no matter what island you’re living on and no matter who it belongs to, he’s still coming

When he finds where you are, prepare to be almost immediately hauled off back to the ship with your screams and thrashes being shushes like you’re some kind of child throwing a temper tantrum

“We’re here to help you, stop thrashing!!” “Don’t you recognize us, *MC’s Name*?! We’re your family!!” “Quit screaming already, we’re taking you home!!”

Literally no matter what you do, there’s no chance once they’ve found you as you’ll be hauled back to the ship like you’re some kind of treasure then once they’re done on the island they’ll be sailing out into open waters so even if there was a chance now there’s -10000% chance of escape

Chances are that a big party is going to be held on the ship in celebration of you finally being back with them even though you were never here in the first place, everyone’s having the time of their lives though and no one is listening when you try to ask to be set free

You attempt to jump overboard and swim to safety while no one looks but I’d like to see you try as you’ll likely be found before you can even get close to the edge and if you do make it then you’ll be pulled up within seconds

You’re going absolutely nowhere and the only thing that you can convince them of is to at least use your real name when they talk to you

Honestly as well, something in me says that you should prepare to be babied as you’re the youngest sibling and you can’t even fight plus they haven’t seen you in so long like Whitebeard claims you were like that big when he last saw you

Like imagine going from a life of independence and doing things on your own to never being left alone and having people do a lot for you like you aren’t even allowed near the stove as you might burn yourself according to Thatch

You should just let them take care of everything for you now, they’ll take good care of you and someday when they deem that you can get married then they’ll help you find a suitable person that they approve of and who treats you right

You’re allowed to do some things for yourself like bathroom stuff and getting changed but other than that, it’s honestly a wonder to you that they don’t also have you wearing footie pajamas with a pacifier in your mouth considering the way that they treat you

Even if you attempt to bring up your problems with this to Pops and request to leave, Whitebeard will simply say that he’ll think about it but always he’ll get back to you under an hour and tell you no as you’re staying like this plus you’re not going anywhere

Why would you want to go anywhere anyways? They can give you everything that you’ve ever wanted or needed right here on the Moby Dick, you should be really grateful that they’re doing this for you as they found you and rescued you after all this time

I wouldn’t recommend trying to raise a big stink about wanting to leave either as it’ll likely just be seen as a temper tantrum by the Whitebeard Pirates which will just get you an early nap time like imagine being scooped up in this man’s hand and forced to take a long nap on his chest because clearly you’re fussy from sleepiness

Now you might think that you have a chance of getting away when you hear that Whitebeard dies and the Whitebeard Pirates get scattered by Blackbeard like you definitely feel sympathy for them but this could also be your chance at freedom

Yeah, no sorry… Marco is definitely not letting you go ever after what happened like you’re on such a short leash that it’s practically non-existent like hell, I can see him legitimately child leashing you in public…

Also dating and getting married someday is completely out the window now like if someone takes even the slightest interest in you, Marco is going to scare them off so there’s no chance for you to ever escape

Your fate was sealed the exact moment that Whitebeard picked up one of your books, you’re his youngest child and you’re not leaving your family ever even when he’s gone…

The family will be together forever even if they have to put you on a child leash…

[pejite]

Despite the numerous challenges they faced on the farm, Wilhelmina was making a concerted effort to spend more time with her daughters. She felt a deep sense of guilt for having neglected them during those dark weeks when she had been confined to her bedroom, overwhelmed by grief. Now, she was determined to make up for lost time.

On this particular day, they were preparing to leave the house when a letter arrived from Mary Elizabeth. In it, she offered her heartfelt condolences and shared the sobering news that things in the city were just as dire, if not worse, than in the countryside. In London, she explained, it had become increasingly difficult to find good food due to the famine brought on by the unrelenting rains and the subsequent plagues.

Wilhelmina sighed as she set the letter down on the side table near the writing desk. She felt a wave of concern wash over her as she thought about the hardships her dear friend was enduring. But there was little she could do from afar, and so, trying to shake off the heaviness that threatened to settle in her heart, she gathered her daughters and stepped outside. They were headed to the church and the market, hoping to find something worthwhile to buy, though their expectations were low.

As they approached the church, they encountered Cora and her daughters walking in the opposite direction. Cora greeted her warmly and expressed her condolences with genuine sympathy. However, she quickly shifted the conversation, not wanting to dwell on the sadness that had been clouding Wilhelmina’s life. "We’ve just been to see the new school, they’ve finally finished building it. Have you had a chance to take a look yet?" she asked, her tone brightening.

Wilhelmina shook her head, feeling a pang of surprise. She hadn’t even realised that the construction had begun, let alone that it was already complete. “But… surely the fees will be expensive, won’t they? With everything being so uncertain right now, I’m not sure we could manage the cost of enrolling the children” she said, her voice tinged with anxiety. The thought of another expense, especially in these troubled times, felt overwhelming.

Cora, however, seemed unfazed. She waved her hand dismissively, a smile tugging at her lips. “Don’t you remember? I mentioned it’s one of those charity schools, it’s free” she explained with a reassuring nod. As the mothers spoke, their daughters lingered nearby, chatting and playing, their laughter a gentle reminder of the innocence that still existed despite the hardships surrounding them “They say the school will open as soon as they can secure enough teachers. Perhaps by winter” Cora added.

Wilhelmina nodded, trying to absorb this new information. They continued their conversation for a while longer, discussing the usual topics, family, the weather, the latest village news, before parting ways. Yet, throughout the rest of the day, Wilhelmina couldn’t stop her mind from returning to the matter of the school.

As they made their way to the market, Wilhelmina found herself mulling over the possibilities that an education could offer her children. The farm had always been their livelihood, but the recent challenges, the relentless rain, the failed crops, the looming threat of winter, had shaken her confidence in the future. Perhaps, she thought, if her children could gain an education, they might have opportunities beyond the farm, opportunities that were not so dependent on the whims of nature.

But even as the thought took shape, Wilhelmina felt a pang of guilt. The farm had been in Edwin’s family for generations, and there was a strong sense of duty tied to the land. Was it right to consider steering her children away from the life that had sustained their family for so long? And yet, the uncertainty of farming, particularly in these troubled times, made her question whether it was fair to expect her children to follow in their footsteps without giving them the chance to explore other paths.

[musings-of-a-rose]

Falling Slowly - Chapter 9

Pairing: Tommy Miller x f!reader

Word Count: 3500+

Rating: Mature - 18+ ONLY!

Warnings: Just like ao3, “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the age to handle mature themes. Also by clicking Keep Reading, you understand warnings may not be complete in order to avoid spoilers for the story. 

Notes: So I thought this may be the last chapter. It's not. Because I'm me.

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**Reader is not described

Main Masterlist

Falling Slowly Masterlist

Tommy Miller Masterlist

Raiders. I’m honestly surprised it’s taken this long for someone to find us. But I thought, or assumed we’d be mostly ok, hidden as well as we are. Joel and Tommy are always extra careful whenever they have to venture out further than our property to scavenge, making sure they aren’t followed. But they’ve only seen people once and that was years ago.

Sarah and Jax move quickly into the hall closet where Joel and Tommy had made a secret hiding place behind a back panel. Tommy hands me a shotgun and squeezes my hand, trying to reassure me that it will all be ok. But I don’t see how it will be. 

The cabin is silent, but getting louder is the unmistakable sound of a truck, no, trucks. Joel and Tommy exchange a look, moving to stand by the front door but well hidden behind the shutters. Rose and I wait in the hallway, staring at each other as we listen as hard as we can. The trucks park and we can hear muffled voices getting out of them. Joel peeks through the slot on his side and whispers to Tommy, but I’m close enough to just hear it. 

“It’s Mr. Jones.”

Mr. Jones? The man who sold us this cabin? We should be ok then, right? I chance a glance around the wall and watch as Joel’s posture changes, his face hardening even though his back is to us. 

“He’s with the Raiders.”

Why is Mr. Jones with raiders? Was he captured? Why would he come here, to a cabin he’d sold us long before the outbreak? 

“What’s the move?” Tommy looks at his brother, waiting to see his reply. Joel stands another moment, watching the men get out of the truck outside. 

“Just follow my lead and stay quiet. If it goes south, take the kids and the girls and get out.”

“I won’t leave you-”

“Tommy.” It wasn’t a suggestion, but a firm warning, and by his silence, I know Tommy complied. 

Joel takes a deep breath and unlocks the door, carrying his shotgun loose in his hands, pointed down, but still ready to go if needed.

“Hey, Mr. Jones. It’s Joel. Joel Miller.” 

There’s silence for a moment before he replies. I have to strain to hear him properly. “Holy shit! Joel? It’s really you?”

“Yeah.”

“Huh! Wow, never would’ve guessed. Everyone make it out ok?”

Joel pauses for a moment, like he’s thinking how to best reply. “We survived the outbreak.”

A chuckle. “Well that’s amazing news!” There’s a slight lull in the conversation, a heavily weighted pause.

“Can I help you all with something?” Joel asks.

“Ah. Well see, I’d forgotten about this cabin, having sold it to you so long ago. Well, it feels like a long time ago. So much has happened…..anyway, I remembered we were setting it up to be off grid and I hoped you all had continued that, maybe have some supplies? I didn’t think you’d actually be here.”

“What supplies do you need?”

“All of them.”

There’s a more weighted pause before Joel replies. “Yeah, I can’t help you with that.”

“Well now, I think you can.”

This isn’t like Mr. Jones. Not the sweet man and his sweet wife who just loved the Miller brothers. Mrs. Jones especially adored Tommy, as she often told him he reminded her so much of a brother she had lost when she was younger. I can hear Tommy grip his gun harder and I glance at Rose, both of us locking eyes in the understanding that we may have to book it down the escape route rather quickly if things escalate. 

“I’m sorry, Mr. Jones. I would be happy to trade with you, but I can’t just-”

“You know, the only reason you’re still alive is because my wife loved you guys so much. Tommy especially. He reminded her so much of her brother Gabriel. She wouldn’t have wanted anything bad to happen to you.”

“Is she ok?”

Another pause. “She…didn’t make it past outbreak day.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. She was a good woman.”

“She was. But, now you see my predicament. I don’t want to hurt you out of respect for my wife. And I’m assuming you have a lot of resources, considering I’m fairly positive your brother and your kids and wives are all hiding here too.”

“So what do you propose?”

“There’s no need for bloodshed here. There are many of us and a few of you. Still, I wouldn’t want to upset my wife.”

“Alright then. You and your men can just go and we’ll forget it happened.”

“Ah, well. I do have responsibilities to my men too. They also have families and needs…how about this: we leave you all here with your supplies, but you and Tommy have to come work for us. Only when we need you. We could use your construction expertise but also your, apparently steady trigger fingers.”

A long pause. “Can I have a moment?”

“Absolutely. We’ll be here, in good faith.”

“In good faith.”

Joel’s heavy boots tap against the floor as he moves back inside, gently closing the door almost shut behind him, his peripheral trained on the men he can see through the crack. Joel calls to use and Rose and I join our men in front of the door. 

“Well?” Joel asks, looking at all of us.

“How many men are there?” Rose asks. “I’m a pretty good shot.”

Joel shakes his head. “There’s at least 10. And they mentioned families so I think if they didn’t return, more would come.”

“We could just leave? Throw a few things in some backpacks and head out the tunnel with the kids?”

“And go where, Daisy?” Joel’s dark eyes meet mine. “There’s nowhere around for miles and these raiders are bound to go looking around. Not to mention the damn infected. We can’t give this place up.”

I know he’s right, but still. It had to be said.

“I don’t like this, Joel.” Rose takes his hand and squeezes it. “I don’t want you gone for God knows how long.” 

Joel lifts her hand to his lips and kisses the back of it. “I know. But we have to do this to take care of you. All of you. Tommy?” Joel looks at his brother, but I don’t have to look to know what his response will be. Tommy will do anything to protect Jax and I, no matter what.

“Yeah. We gotta protect ours.”

Joel nods at Tommy. “It’s settled.”

It was almost 2 weeks before they came back, just one vehicle, Joel and Tommy gathering up their backpacks, nerves visible in their features. Joel went around back to grab another tool bag and Rose and Sarah followed him. Jax was still asleep upstairs and Tommy had already said goodbye to his sleeping son. He slides his arm through the other strap and I adjust his flannel shirt, picking at it in an attempt to do something other than cry. 

“Hey.” Tommy lifts my chin with his finger and gently presses his lips to mine before pulling back to look at me. “I’ll come back. I promise.”

“Please be careful, Tommy. I love you so much, I can’t…I can’t lose you. Not again, I-”

“Hey, darlin’. I love you too. I don’t plan on going anywhere.”

He pulls me to him and I nuzzle into his chest, inhaling his scent, letting it permeate my brain as it tries to memorize everything about him. But then Joel walks back inside, handing Tommy another tool bag before moving to the front door. 

“Be safe.”

“You too.”

Rose, Sarah, and I stand together in the doorway, watching Joel and Tommy get into the truck, not knowing when they’ll come back.

Or if.

The first few times they went, they helped the raiders build some additions to their compound, fortifying their defenses and just general maintenance and repair. I had asked Tommy if no one there knew how to do any of this, as it seemed pretty odd that in a compound of the size they discussed, that no one knew how to do something as simple as switch out a doorknob.

“Yeah, normally that would be odd. Except, they’re all rich people.”

I look up at him from where I had been snuggling against his chest. “What?”

He nods. “Yeah. Before the outbreak, all of these people had money. I’m talking loaded. Lots of them telling stories about it. So they’re not used to doing things for themselves.”

“So the rich people are raiders?”

He shrugs. “Guess maybe they couldn’t cope with doing without. So they just started taking.”

About 6 months in, the raiders come to collect Joel and Tommy, this time for an actual raid. They promised they’d be careful, looking out for people and clickers. But I don’t like it. It was bad enough them going to help the raiders build their home. But this?

They don’t return for nearly 2 weeks. 

Before, they were gone at most 4 days. Byt the end of the 2 weeks, Rose and I were ready to go charging the base and probably would have if it wasn’t for Sarah and Jax. 

They returned in the middle of the night, the kids fast asleep. Rose and I were still awake, having a hard time sleeping without them here. But the sound of a truck was unmistakeable in the quiet and we carefully headed downstairs, peeking out the slot in the shutters that Joel had looked out before, making sure it was really them. Joel and Tommy hopped out of the truck, slinging their bags over one shoulder without so much as a glance behind them. But my initial wave of relief at the sight of them quickly was replaced by concern as Tommy gets closer and I can see the hunch in his shoulders, his eyes on the ground. Something had happened. Something bad. Rose opens the door and Joel steps inside, Tommy following behind him as Rose closes the door. They drop their packs and kick off their boots, stowing them in the little baskets we had placed by the door.

“Tommy?” I reach for his hand but he snatches it back, not quite meeting my eye.

“I need to shower.”

I was stunned. He had been on some dirty construction sites, even building for the raiders, and not once has he never kissed me when he came home. Out the corner of my eye, I see a similar conversation happening between Joel and Rose, Joel following Tommy upstairs. 

“What the fuck happened?” Rose whispers to me, her eyes on the stairs where Joel had just been.

“I don’t know, but it doesn’t seem good.”

I pop my head in the kid’s room, checking that they’re still asleep. I should stop calling it the kids room as Sarah is nearly 20 now. But they’re both so attached at the hip, I forget that she’s so much older than him. 

I close our door behind me, hearing the shower click off as I kick off my house shoes. I sit on the bed, quietly waiting for him. Tommy emerges from the bathroom, towel slung low around his hips, his hair wet and curly, sticking to his neck and forehead. He turns to the dresser and grabs a pair of boxers and puts them on, tossing the wet towel in the basket. He sits next to me on the bed, still not looking at me. It’s almost as if he’s..ashamed?

I cup my hand to his cheek and lift his face to mine and immediately have to choke back tears at the look of defeat in his eyes. “Hey. I love you.”

He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “I love you too.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

He shakes his head. “I don’t want to give details. But fuck, Daisy, I…we had to do some shady shit and I don’t…But it’s to keep you safe so I will, but-”

“Hey, hey,. It’s ok. We can just leave. We have the truck and we have more time now so we can load it up and-”

He shakes his head. “Joel’s right though. They’ll come looking for us. Especially now.”

“What do you mean especially now?”

Tommy looks down, picking at his fingers. “We were good at our job. Joel more than me, but they liked how good of a shot I am.”

“Tommy. Look at me.” It takes him several moments but he does, his eyes watering. “I love you. I love you no matter what, ok?” He nods but like he doesn't believe me. I place my hands on either side of his face and pull him to me, pressing my lips to his. 

And to my surprise, he melts into me, one hand coming up to tangle in my hair, the other gripping my hip as he deepens the kiss. He turns his body, pressing me down into the bed as he lays on me, kissing down my neck, goosebumps erupting down my arms. I know this isn’t a healthy way to cope but it seems to be what he needs and honestly, I need him. I need to hold him, know he’s here with me, solidly here. He pushes his hips against mine, my back arching as he nips at my neck, his hips rocking faster and faster, chasing his high. His hands are everywhere, sliding over my skin, gripping me, touching me, his lips drawing paths across my body. My fingers tangle in his curls, my legs wrapping around him, urging him deeper, faster until finally lights erupt behind my eyes, my whole body tingling as I moan his name, hearing my own echoed back at me as his hips sputter against mine. He presses his forehead to mine and takes a few breaths before he pulls out, allowing me time to use the bathroom first. When he’s done, he slides into bed and pulls me to his chest, wrapping his large arms around me, my back pressed into his broad chest, his nose in my hair. 

“I’m here if you want to talk, but I’m also here if this is what you need. Whatever you want, I’m here, Tommy.”

“I know. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Every time they leave, I swear a part of them doesn't come back. Joel seems more aggressive. Not to us, but just...angrier. Tommy's shoulder's slump, his smile often not reaching his eyes, staring blankly out at the trees as he relives whatever horrors he's had to do.

It's when the last bit of life in his eyes snuffs out that I decide I need to do something.

I'd always told him he could talk to me and sometimes he did. I know he hasn't told me everything they've had to do, and I don't expect him to. I've asked him to leave before, but he always said Joel never would. That he couldn't leave his brother. But after 5 years, it finally took that last little bit of him I had left. I couldn't continue on like this. We couldn't continue on like this.

I come back into the cabin, washing my hands in the kitchen sink, before I head back outside, walking down through the trees to the dock, knowing I'd find Tommy sitting at the edge of it, glass of water clutched in his hand as he stares blankly out at the water, a million miles away.

"Hey, handsome." I sit next to him, gently placing my hand on his thigh and giving it a light squeeze. He blinks rapidly a few times, coming back to present before looking at me, smiling slightly.

"Hey, beautiful."

I place my hand on his cheek, rubbing my thumb over the bit of stubble that had grown in the last few days. "Are you here with me?"

His dark eyes meet mine and he blinks. "I am."

"Come with me?"

He cocks his head slightly to the side as I stand up, offering my hand out to him. He takes it, the warmth from his large hand seeping into mine as I lead him off the deck and back into the woods, down a path he'd taken me years ago. Albeit I was blindfolded, but I'm not bothering with a blindfold this time.

It had taken me a few days to figure it out, setting up the tent and blankets just like he'd done for our anniversary not too long after...well, after. I thought for sure he'd know where we're going but if he does, he says nothing, his fingers still laced with mine as we walk around trees and over roots. When the clearing appears and he sees the tent, he stops walking. I look back at him and am met with a blank stare.

"Tommy?"

"What..what are we doing here?"

"I thought it might be nice to get away for at least a night."

His jaw clenches. "Shit, did I miss our anniversary?"

At least he remembered why we had been here before. "No. I just...come sit with me?" I take his one hand in both of mine, pulling him slightly towards the blanket I had spread out. He pauses for a moment but then acquiesces, kicking off his boots and stretching out his long legs on the blanket. I kick off my own boots and sit next to him, hesitating before taking his hand again, feeling him lace his fingers through mine.

"I love you, Tommy."

"I love you too, sweetheart."

I told myself I wouldn't cry, that I'd be strong. But when I looked at him, his eyes staring at mine, and I couldn't see that light, I lost it. Giant drops fell from my eyes, splashing against our entwined hands.

"Hey, hey Daisy. What's wrong?" He drops my hand to place it on my cheek, cradling my face with both hands.

"I..can't...can't..."

He pulls me to his chest, wrapping his arms around me and I finally feel safe, secure, like he's fully here with me in this moment. It takes me a few minutes to calm down, but he's patient with me, always so patient, just holding me and letting me sort myself.

"We have to leave, Tommy."

He doesn't move, still for a long moment and so I sit up, drying my tears on the back of my hand.

"Daisy, we can't. I told you, Joel won't-"

"Every time you guys leave, a part of you doesn't come back. I know you're having to do terrible shit, more terrible than the crap you've told me about. And I've supported you as best I can, but Tommy, I feel like you're finally slipping away from me and I can't pull you to me, and I can't lose you, I just can't. Not again. I won't survive it."

"Oh darlin'. I'm right here."

I look up at him. "But that's just it. You're not. Even when you're here, you're not. This last trip. Something took the last bit of light from your eyes and I-" a sob ripples up from my throat and Tommy immediately pulls me to him again.

"You said you're protecting us. But who's going to protect us when you're gone, Tommy? Even if you're alive, you can still be gone. Please. We have to go."

A drop of water hits my cheek, but it's not my tears. I turn my head up and see tears freely flowing down Tommy's cheeks. This time it's my turn to hold him, press him to my chest as he cries. It's several long minutes before the sobs stop, the tears finally drying. My fingers are still tangled in his curls, gently patting him and lightly scratching his head. He sits up, wiping his eyes on his arm.

"I'm so sorry, Daisy. I thought I could handle it."

"Hey. You're so fucking strong. Most people would've cracked by now."

He smiles weakly. "I would have, if it weren't for Joel." His face falls. "He'll never leave, Daisy. He's convinced this is the safest option."

"Tommy, we can't continue on like this forever."

He nods. "You're right. I gotta take care of my family and that's what I'm gonna do."

"What if Joel won't come?"

"He won't. I'll make the offer to Rose and Sarah, but I'm sure they'll stay. But we'll still go."

"You sound like you have a plan?"

He's quiet again, his eyes going far away for several moments before looking back at me.

"Actually, I do. I've heard about this freedom fighting group called the Fireflies."

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[cockslutpadalecki]

I think this might be more dark!Steve than mean!Steve…

Takes place back in the 40s after Steve took the serum. You’re a new chorus girl/back up dancer. He usually never paid any attention to the dancers, but for some reason he’s always targeting you. He makes comments about your appearance, yells at you if you make the tiniest mistake, that kinda stuff.

When he finds out you’re transferring to a different celebrity’s USO show, he decides to show you where you really belong

Don’t Forget Where You Belong

Characters: Mean!40s!Steve x F!Reader.

Words: 1.9K.

Warnings: non-con/dub-con, non-con touching, bullying, slight body/fat shaming, humiliation, 1940s misogyny, hints of dacryphilia, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it kids), mention of a special guest, 18+. MINORS DNI.

A/N: Thank you so much for this request, I had a blast writing it. Somehow making 40s!Steve mean is super duper hot. Beta: @princessmisery666 but all the general bullshit is entirely mine. While likes are gold, feedback is golden. Please support our content creators by sharing our work.

Your make-up is all wrong. Your hair’s a mess. Your timing is off. Your costume needs letting out.

Just a small selection of the issues Steve has with you during today’s practice. You shrug them off with a tiny smile, telling him, of course, I’ll do better. He seems placated when he strides off, shield in hand as the other girls quickly surround you.

“Don’t listen to him,” Jean soothes, giving your shoulder a comforting squeeze. 

“I won’t,” you tell her firmly, even though his comments make a home for themselves in the deepest recess of your brain. 

“I don’t get what his problem is,” another girl, Rita, pipes up as she strips off her stockings. “He’s never been like this before, at least not until…” she trails off, her eyes lingering on you. 

You know what she wants to imply. Not until you showed up. 

Slumping down at your dresser, you let out a low sigh, wishing you had some insight into what it is about you in particular that seems to annoy him. You only have to so much as breathe and he’s on your case, complaining that it’s your fault the routine is falling flat. 

“Well I heard that he isn’t happy with the drop in sign ups,” Jean whispers conspiratorially. “Especially now that other guy is stealing all of his audiences.” 

“Of course, how could I forget?” Rita giggles. “Have you seen him yet? I heard he’s a real dream.” 

You feel yourself stiffen as a result of their conversation and you start wiping off your makeup, an obscure sense of guilt washing over you. You’ve only been a part of the ensemble for a little over two months— barely enough time to grow an attachment to them— but you can’t help but feel bad for putting in a request to leave them so soon.

They’re not to blame for your unhappiness, in fact they’ve been more than accommodating, it’s the man who wears red, white and blue who’s had the target on your back since day one.

And if he finds out that you’re transferring out to the very person’s show who has the opportunity to overshadow him, that target is soon to grow bigger and bigger until he has zero chance of missing.

-

“Your steps are backwards, and because they’re backwards, you keep stepping on poor Stella’s toes,” Steve bellows, marching towards you. 

Not a day has passed without him picking fault, and you just want to hide away until it’s time for you to leave. Every morning, you mentally strike off another day, counting down the minutes and hours, yet time seems to pass far too slowly. 

“I’m sorry, I-” you start but your pleas are quickly cut off by his curt voice as he reaches you.

“Apologies aren’t going to help.”

“But it’s a start,” you snap without thinking. 

Steve glares at you, his jaw tightening. You can tell by the way his nostrils flare that he’s pissed you’ve just spoken back. You can’t quite believe it either. All sound ceases in the room and you can feel the girls’ wide eyes on you as Steve closes the gap between you in one huge stride. 

The anger radiates off him in waves, and you can feel it burning at the fringes of your uniform. 

“We’re done here,” he yells to the others, his eyes remaining on you. Nobody moves. Somebody coughs. The lack of movement catches Steve’s attention and he turns towards them, shouting at the top of his lungs, “I said, get out!”

They all scurry around picking up their belongings and rush out of the door, trying to pass on their most sympathetic looks before disappearing entirely from view. 

It’s only when the room is empty that Steve brings his attention back to you, and his ire with it. 

“Do you like humiliating me?” he asks, and the question stumps you. If anything, he’s the one humiliating you.

“I… I don’t understand.” 

“The mistakes. The hair. The make-up,” he huffs out. “Every time you put a step wrong, you’re showing me up. Tarnishing my reputation. And now you’re talking back, in front of the other girls, like you think your opinion counts? I’m starting to think you’re doing it on purpose.” 

Pain builds up in your jaw as you grind your teeth together, taken aback by his blatant misogyny. Hot tears burn as you blink them away, not wanting him to see how his words affect you. 

“I’m not trying to do anything of the sort,” you defend. 

“Then what are you trying to do? ‘Cause it sure as hell ain’t dancin’,” Steve remarks snidely.  

You stare up at him, his bright sapphire eyes no longer a thing of beauty, but cold and harsh. Like a winter’s frost nipping at your nose. He looks down at you, mouth drawn in a taut line but you can see a smirk threatening the corners of his lips. As if he’s eager to smile. Like he’s enjoying making you uncomfortable. 

“I’m sorry my best isn’t good enough, Mr. Rogers,” you mutter dryly, the apology sour on your tongue. “I promise to do better.”

Now he smiles, however it’s anything but kind and warm. “Thank you. That’s the kind of behaviour I expect from my girls,” he reaches out and strokes your arm, sending a cold shiver of fear down your spine. With your fear justified as his caress quickly evolves into a vice-like grip, his tone turns abrasive when his threat pierces the air, “but speak another word out of line, and I’ll shut your prissy little mouth myself.”

You agree hurriedly with a sheepish nod and Steve lets go of your arm. “Good girl.” He flashes you another unnerving smile and his hand comes up to cup your jaw, forcing your eyes to remain on him. “See, obeying your peers isn’t so bad, is it?” 

“No, Mr. Rogers,” you placate softly. 

“Run along now, Doll,” he tells you, motioning towards the exit with his head. You try to step around him to leave, but the sensation of his thumb rubbing gently over your bottom lip stops you from doing so. The moment is awkward, and suddenly, you feel preyed upon. The way he looks at you with such… virulence makes your stomach twist, leaving you with a thickness of unease in your gut. 

Steve finally drops his hand, moving aside to let you pass, but as you hurry from the room— the intensity of his stare burning a hole into your back— you know the approval of your request to leave can’t come quickly enough.

-

You’re rounding the curtain after your last practice— anything to keep up appearances—as the girls part like the Red Sea in front of you, dispersing quickly as Steve storms through them straight to you. 

Jean lingers for a moment, like she wants to interject— to protect you— but you silently shake your head at her over his shoulder. She pauses, hesitant to leave, but eventually she retreats, leaving you alone in the wings. The curtain curls around you like a shield, but it quickly becomes apparent that no amount of material will save you from Steve’s wrath.

“What’s this I hear about you transferring out?” he bites, his tone sharp.

You suck in a deep breath, waiting for the inevitable onslaught of disgust. It was only a matter of time before he found out, and finally the day has come. 

“Well?” he barks.

“I leave Thursday.”

Steve looks so incensed you think the vein in his neck might pop. “And when, do you suppose, were you gonna tell me about this?” 

For a moment, you’re afraid of him, but the realisation that you only have two more days in his presence means that all promises of holding your tongue go flying out the window. “I wasn’t aware I needed your permission.”

He scoffs. “I’m Captain fuckin’ America, sweetheart, everything goes through me,” he’s right up in your face now, rage-thick spittle landing on your cheek as he speaks, “So if you think I’m just gonna let you walk on outta here and represent Soldier Boy,” he spits the name like it’s poisonous, his voice heavy with the taste of Brooklyn, “then you’re sorely mistaken.” 

This time, it’s your turn to scoff. “I don’t belong to you, Steve.” 

You’ve never addressed him by first name before, and the shock on his face is clear to see before he manages to get his expression back under control. But it’s the same hard stare you’ve grown accustomed to, and even though you’re familiar with it, it doesn’t affect you any less. It still frightens you, and you guarantee that even when you’re on your deathbed, the coldness in his eyes will be the last thing you see.

He lunges towards you, hand curling around your throat in a flash. Your breath stalls in your lungs as you try to fight him off, scratching and clawing at his forearm, but it merely spurs him on. He enjoys the struggle— you can see it in the smile he gives you when he tugs you against him. Hot, salty tears stream down your cheeks as he pins you to the wall behind, heavy folds in the stage curtain cushioning the assault. 

“I’ll show you where you fuckin’ belong, sweetheart,” he grits out with macabre promise. His free hand yanks at your skirt, pulling it out of his way and tears into your underwear with one mighty rip.

You continue to cry as Steve’s heavy body covers yours. He roughly lifts your leg, manipulating it to curl around his waist. Your strength is nothing compared to his— like a mouse trying to stave off a lion— and when he frees his cock from the confines of his pants, whatever little fight you have left, drains right out of you. 

“N-n-n,” is all you can manage, your voice still trapped beneath his grip around your neck. 

“You think Soldier Boy will still accept you into his show after you’ve been tainted with my cock?” he mocks, teasing the head of his swollen erection up and down your slit. You whine in disgust, but it quickly breaks off into a moan when he slips inside you, just enough to feel his girth stretch you out. The contact forces your back to arch against the wall, and in turn, involuntarily pushes your hips towards Steve. He sinks deeper. And when he’s sheathed up to the root, he glances down to where you join with a delighted smirk.

“And here I was thinkin’ I liked it most when you were on the verge of tears,” he tells you, pulling out slowly, before sliding home with a satisfied hum. Your walls grasp and hug his dick, and you can’t help it when your eyes see static. “This is much better.”

He starts to move and instantly, your mind is screaming— this can’t be happening.

But it is. And your body seems to welcome every thrust. Your hips angle further and further towards him, desperate to take in as much of him as possible. Pulses of pleasure ripple deep in your gut and you hate it, but you ache for the next wave, small pitiful moans escaping you each time as they magnify in intensity. 

You reach out, gripping the thick red fabric of the curtain for stability, shamefully chasing the inevitable as Steve fucks you raw. 

“This is where you belong, understand?” His question punctuates the air. You nod in agreement out of fear, but your true answer appears in wordless form when you eventually come.

***

ALL CE: @buckymydarlingangel @broadwaybabe18 @captain-asguard @chamberofsloths @cevansgurl @dreamlessinparis @deanwinchesterswitch @fandom-princess-forevermore @hurricanerin @kellhems @ladybug05 @livstilinski @mugi-chwan95 @navybrat817 @otomefromtheheart @oneoftheprettynerds @patzammit @rebel-stardust @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog @sammykb1994 @syrenavenger @straywords @saiyanprincessswanie @sunwardsss @selfsun @threeminutesoflife @vicmc624 @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @wintasssoldier @xoxonotme

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[writeforfandoms]

Puppy Love 8

Find the series masterlist

Well. Here we are. The last chapter of this fic. I may return to revisit this lot, especially if anyone has any prompts or requests. But this is the last chapter of the main story. 

There is an unspecified time jump here. I’ll leave it to y’all to decide how long they’ve known each other now. 

Warnings: Overwhelming fluff, a teeny bit of spice. 

Word count: 1k

Gaz didn’t even see Ghost coming. He was just minding his business when he got collared and dragged into a side room.

“Need your help,” Ghost said without preamble, releasing Gaz. 

“With what?” Gaz asked, rubbing a hand over his chest, willing himself not to have a heart attack. 

“Need you to keep Price busy today.”

That got his attention, and he narrowed his eyes a little. “How busy?” 

“Busy enough that he won’t notice a visitor.” 

Gaz’s eyes narrowed. “What are you planning?”

“Nothing.” Ghost sounded like he was smirking under his usual mask. “I’m just an accomplice. You gonna do it or not?” 

Gaz huffed out a sigh. “Consider it done.” 

Ghost nodded, clapping his shoulder before striding out of the room. Gaz looked down for a moment before he perked up and trotted off to go get Price. 

Cupid made an excellent distraction. And he had a lot of energy. 

Now he just had to get Price out of his office. 

He grinned as an idea occurred to him. Johnny wouldn’t mind getting thrown under the bus this once. 

–

“You’re sure this is fine?” you asked Simon, yet again, as he grabbed one of the bags from the back of your car. 

“Yeah, I cleared it.” He nodded once, absently patting the top of Sasha’s head when she whined a little. “This way.”

You followed him, one bag in hand and Sasha’s leash held tight in your other hand. You were a little nervous, but just a little. John didn’t know you were here, wouldn’t know until you were ready for him to know. Simon had assured you it was taken care of. And you weren’t going to question his methods. 

The briefing room was mostly empty, with just a few chairs and a single table. That was enough. There would only be five of you, after all. 

You’d come prepared - food was already cooked and kept warm in the insulated bags, and you’d made a pie. (John had commented once that most cake was too sweet, and you’d managed to wheedle his favorite pie flavor out of him. That had been fun.) You weren’t going to bother with decorations. Really, this wasn’t a big thing, because you knew John would hate a lot of people fussing over him.

Especially since you’d missed his actual birthday by a week and a half. Dangers of the job, you supposed. 

Simon glanced at you once everything was set out on the table, Sasha sniffing the air hopefully. “Ready?”

“Yeah. Just need to do this.” You fished something out of your pocket, taking a moment to clip it onto Sasha’s collar where you knew John would see it. Better than attaching it to her harness, at any rate. “Okay, let’s go.”

You kept Sasha on a short leash as Simon led you outside and to the field. John stood with his hands on his hips, Kyle and Soap in front of him and Cupid in between them. Only Cupid was… a lot more white than he should be. You nearly gave yourself away with the hiccuped laugh that tried to escape, Simon flapping an impatient hand at you. 

“Okay Sasha,” you whispered, crouching down next to the Lab, who had spotted her favorite person and was straining against the leash with her desire to get to him. “Go get John! Go get him!” You unclipped the leash from her harness and she bolted, bounding straight for John. 

He didn’t stand a chance.

She slammed straight into him, fifty pounds of pure muscle and energy, and he went down with a yell. She pounced, feet planted on either side of his head as she enthusiastically licked him all over, undoubtedly going to nibble on his muttonchops too. You grinned as you and Simon approached, able to watch as John finally shoved Sasha off enough to sit up.

“Where’d you come from, girl?” John asked quietly, tousling Sasha’s ears. You saw the moment his gaze caught on her collar and, more importantly, the key hanging from a little carabiner. He lifted his gaze, eyes wide, until he spotted you. You twiddled your fingers at him in a playful wave as you sauntered closer. 

You were not expecting John to grab you and pull you down with him, kissing you within an inch of your life (much to the amused cheering and whistling of his team). 

Someone got Sasha clipped back to her leash and the group of you trooped back inside. John didn’t say a word, slanting a look at you, but he didn’t object, either. 

Dinner was everything you had hoped and more. The team devoured practically everything you’d made. The dogs mostly behaved. And Sasha’s collar jingled, reminding you and John both of the key hanging there. 

As soon as dinner was done, Soap and Kyle jumped to volunteer to take things back to your car. Simon already had your key (and you swatted his arm for that) and in moments all three of them were gone. 

Leaving you, John, and Sasha.

“It’s yours, now,” you murmured, pulling a couple treats out of your pocket and getting Sasha to sit. The key caught the light, plain silver. 

“You’re sure?” John took the key off her collar, laying it flat in the palm of his hand.

“Wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t mean it.” You smiled at him, reaching over to curl his fingers closed over the key. “Happy birthday, love.” 

John pulled you into his chest, kissing the breath right from your lungs.

[good-lord-not-books]

Extremely self indulgent rambling about Dabi. MDNI.

Also this is focusing on a Dabi who isn’t charismatic…like at all. Personally not my vibe, but below Dabi is headcanon stuff.

Dabi doesn’t get flirting. He doesn’t flirt. He doesn’t get being flirted with. If you flirt with him he will not pick it up. It will go over his head and he’ll watch it with disinterest until the conversation moves on or he just leaves. Even if you’re blunt with him his response is “ok.” He will NOT entertain you. It’s not because he’s playing “hard to get.” He just doesn’t really get it - and how anyone would find him attractive, let alone worthy of compliments. He’s aware he looks the way he does. He’s used to people shying away from him; seen people cringe if they bump into him.

That’s another thing - playful touches, bumps, taps. No. He doesn’t feel anything anymore. Hasn’t felt anything for years. If you touch him, he wouldn’t tell you to fuck off so much as glare at you or look at you like you’re crazy. He’s not going to be an asshole but he’s not going to be nice about it either. Just don’t fucking touch him.

Ok. He lied. He has feeling in some parts. He wasn’t done growing when the initial grafts were placed on. The skin of other people somehow helped his own grow back. In some capacity at least. It would feel but he felt either pain or an annoying itch. He’d feel it peel away when he’d be careless - especially during the late night hours obsessing over perfecting the move Endeavor debut the day before. He wouldn’t stop until he felt like he got the move right. No, not just right - better. And by then he couldn’t really feel anything at all. He’d go to sleep feeling, in his mind, true warmth of practice well done. The embers seething within were just the heat of the passion.

It was the mornings after that he’d find himself waking up in tears because of the pain. He’d look at the damage done and the fresh skin that tried to grow back would be flaying itself off of him. The smell didn’t even register anymore. He tried cutting off the curled excess on those first few times he went overboard. He even used superglue to try and keep it back down. But then it would just become stuck while he kept growing, or he’d heat up so much again that it would just melt off. His skin was just…

He’s lingered on this for long enough. Staples worked best. They’d keep the skin down. Things getting caught in his staples was much less bothersome then the pain on flayed skin - so that’s why he tolerates it.

So no. A “coy” brush of a hand against his arm doesn’t do shit. Touch his hands and he’d flick you off - he’d even tell you it hurt (it didn’t. Ok, it did, but not that bad) - anything to make sure you didn’t touch him again. (You know that feeling you get when you lose the feeling in your limb and then the blood comes rushing back in? That’s how his hands always felt. Static).

And yes. He still had feeling down there. It isn’t painful so much as annoying. Made him feel sick to his stomach. He dealt with it quickly when he got the chance to be actually alone. There are times he had hired help to see if the feeling would stay away for longer. That didn’t work. It felt better in the moment, yes. Felt better than anything in the world because it was the only place he really feels good anymore. He could even sing it praises. But he didn’t like being looked at. Anytime he reasoned they’ve probably dealt with worse he couldn’t help but think but what if I am “the worst.” There are a lot of freaks in this society - some definitely way uglier than what he would have looked like. But he was different and he knew that.

He stopped hiring help when he realized he couldn’t be done as quickly as he wanted to be. Having to tell the girls to not look at him, don’t touch him, don’t do this or that…it took longer than the job itself. Even more so with turning down the constant “are you sures?” and promises of “I can show you a good time, handsome.”

He’s been told he’s handsome. It was a lie people gave to try and get something from him, like an extra tip, he’s sure. Besides - he was his dad’s son. Read any comments about Endeavor and in between the (probably) bot accounts fawning over him (a married fucking man, mind you), the real opinions would come out.

“He looks like a constipated ape when he’s fighting”

“Does he even smile???”

“Imagine being a man That Big and still being a weak ugly fuck lol”

So he looked like that and he had the scars on top of it. Hard to believe a “hey handsome” all that considered.

[sailorshadzter]

Prompt: After being captive in Dragonstone for several months, Jon just wants to let off steam especially after repressing all the things he wants to shout at Daenerys. He went to Sansa's solar itching for a fight, but Sansa is guarded (has the Lady of Winterfell walls up). He finally succeeds in baiting Sansa to a fight, and then he can't help but laugh during mid-shouting match. Jon misses the tension, confusion, and he misses being treated as an equal. Sansa is confused, annoyed, but she can't help but be amused. Jon reduces the tension by apologizing, and they awkwardly try to do their jobs (talk about the castle and evacuation).

ANONNN

this has been in my inbox a long time so i hope you see this!!!

send me prompts

He knows it’s wrong, but there’s no stopping himself now.

Without any hesitation, he’s pushing open the door to the solar that once belonged to him, to them, and of course there she sits behind the desk, her usual place. She looks up as he barges in, a brow arched in surprise, but her face does not change. 

Not at first, that is.

“Jon,” she greets softly, carefully, hands laying down atop the desk she sits behind. “I did not expect you,” she continues, blue eyes unwavering in their gaze. What she means to say is I thought you were with her, but she does not allow herself to speak to him in such a way. 

Not yet, that was. 

They’ve been apart for a long seven months and she cannot help but to wonder if the man that returned from Dragonstone was even the same man she knew. Jon was someone else entirely it seemed- though she hates to admit it. She thinks back to their last private conversation, one that had happened in this very same room just the day before… Did you bend the knee to protect the North, or because you love her? His face had changed when she’d asked such a question. She might as well have slapped him, the way he had looked at her then. Have you no faith in me at all? He had asked her, cutting her, striking her, filling her with shame. That could have been her chance, her one moment to tell him everything… But then she remembered the sight of him on the damned dragon queen’s arm and jealousy took control. 

“I didn’t mean to interrupt,” he says, but she’s shaking her head, rising up to come around the desk to stand before him, just an arms length away. “You weren’t at dinner.” He adds, recalling the way the lords had exchanged their glances, how Daenerys had whispered something to Tyrion, who only shook his head and swallowed a goblet of wine. 

“No, I wasn’t,” she says, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. Her voice brokers no argument, but his blood boils all the same. He wishes for her to rage at him, to fight him, to curse him. “I am sure your queen was more than enough company for you.” Ah, there it was, that quiet resentment. She speaks the words before she can stop them, though truth was, she’s glad she’s said them now. 

“It’s rude to avoid her in such a way,” he snaps, harsher than he intends, but she’s laughing, blue eyes scathing in their gaze. “I mean it, Sansa, you don’t know what she’s capable of if you provoke her!” 

“Oh, don’t I?” She snarls, throwing her hands up. “As if I’ve not already faced her wrath once? As if her dragons have not already attacked a local farm? As if I’ve not already faced worse than her?” She rolls her eyes, turning away. “Your queen will be the death of us all-”

“She isn’t my queen!” He explodes, cutting her off, drawing her back. For the first time, her face softens, something like realization registering in her blue eyes. “She isn’t my queen,” he says again, softer now, gray eyes full of the desperation he feels in his heart. A laugh escapes him without warning, without hesitation, for this conversation is everything it shouldn’t be. He cannot help but wish he’d never come here at all. 

“Jon, I…” She speaks softly, hand twitching as if she might reach for him. 

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes, quieter now than ever before, turning away to face the hearth, his back to her. It takes but a single moment for her hand to touch his shoulder, to turn him around to face her once more, the touch of her hand spreading warmth through all of his limbs. 

She swallows and then stands a little straighter, her arm falling back down by her side. “We do have the supplies to last, you know,” she says, changing the subject, understanding him in a way no one else ever could. 

“I knew you would find a way,” he says awkwardly, watching as she moves away, to sit back behind the oak desk, wishing he had the courage to sit on its edge as he once would have done. Perhaps with time… Perhaps there would be a day soon that they would fall back into their old steps with ease. “Lord Royce said the grain stores are plentiful.” She had done well to prepare Winterfell for the war that was to come, like the queen she should have been. 

“I have sent word to most of the remaining houses to retreat here,” she continues, hands folding together atop the desk. “This is the safest place to be, after all.” Jon is nodding, agreeing, and they quickly fall into an easier conversation- one of planning and of survival. He supposes that should they all live through the Long Night, there would be time enough for them to talk about everything else. 

And so they talk, not of their feelings, not of anything but what was to come. 

Everything else would come in due time.

[twilightangel83]

Not a Chance in the Realms

October 8: Outnumbered (Whumptober)

A 1-1.5 on my whump scale (see the series definition for the scale)

Chatter broke out as soon as the static filled the screen and continued as Batman and Constantine moved back onto the stage. Back at the chairs, Nightwing could see Wonder Woman messing with a remote and a moment later the video clicked off as Batman stepped forward to speak.

“So, as you can see, we’ve got quite the situation at hand. Now I’m sure many of you are wondering if what he said was true. I know that was my first question. To answer that, I’m going to let Constantine take the floor.” That said, Batman stepped back some as Constantine stepped forward. And it was in that moment that Nightwing realized just how serious this was. In all the years he’d known Constantine he’d never seen the man look this serious before. And, if Nightwing wasn’t mistaken, the man was completely sober. Which was worrying in and of itself. This was big.

“It’s true alright.” Constantine’s gruff voice cut across the room. “The Infinite Realms is just as the king said. It’s the place where all afterlives reside as well as the glue that holds all of reality together. This means that the dead of every world in our universe, and the dead of every other universe in existence go there. If they decide to go to war against us there’s very little we could do against those numbers, especially since most of our weapons and abilities won’t even touch a being of the Infinite Realms, let alone end one. And those that die on our side just add to their numbers. And that’s not even mentioning King Phantom himself.” Constantine shook his head with a grimace. “Phantom is a young king. By my reports he’s had the throne for less than a decade, but the Realm and its people love him. The previous King, Pariah Dark, was a tyrannical dictator that ended up having to be sealed away for the safety of the Realms as well as the mortal planes. It took several Ancients, beings of immense age and power, to seal him away. But he was somehow freed several years back. That’s when Phantom took him down. From what I heard it took King Phantom under half an hour to take the old king down. Single Handed. He’s not someone we want to mess with.”

“So what are we supposed to do?” A voice Nightwing didn’t quite recognize from the front of the crowd called. Constantine huffed and crossed his arms.

“As far as I’m concerned we evacuate who we can, but if the United States is dumb enough to refuse to repeal this mess then we let them lie in the bed they made.”

“And these Ecto Acts?” Another vaguely familiar voice asked, sounding a bit desperate.  “Are those real too?” There must have been some sort of discussion earlier about who would explain what, because Constantine didn’t bother looking to check before he stepped back to let Batman take over once more.

“Unfortunately, yes.” Batman informed them grimly. “I’m not sure how they slipped by us, but about five years ago a set of laws were quietly passed that labeled all so-called ecto-entities as non-sentient and dangerous. Under these laws the Ghost Investigation Ward have the right to do whatever they deem necessary to understand and deal with the threat posed by these beings. And they deem anyone with a reading of 5 or higher on their meters as an ecto-entity. No matter if they’ve got a beating heart or not.”

Unsurprisingly, this did not go over well with the crowd. It was one, already horrid, thing to say that these beings from another dimension were all non-sentient, but to tack on that any one of their own people who were contaminated enough were also non-sentient was just insane. How had this gotten passed?

“How do they measure that?” That was Cyborg’s voice, probably wanting to get ahold of the tech so they could figure out who all would fall under this category.

“We’re still working that out, but—“

Read more Here

[to-the-stars8]

Learning to Love Slowly

Jason Todd x Reader All Chapters AO3

51-The Little Things and Bernard

“You must be Bernard, I’m Jason’s partner,” You introduced yourself to the young man. You noted that he was handsome, and looked just like Tim’s type. Good-looking and a bit nerdy.

Jason had filled you in on the issues between Tim and his boyfriend, asking you to talk to at least one of them in hopes of helping his little brother. Initially, you were hesitant and weary of intervening in someone else’s relationship. Then, when you came over for family dinner, Tim looked at you with those big blue eyes with the cutest little puppy dog look that only a little brother could give. That’s when you finally caved, but told him only that you do the bare minimum since you didn’t want to be caught in the middle of something. 

“Yeah, Tim’s told me about you,” Bernard held out his hand and you two greeted each other warmly. He sounded happy and chirpy. “It’s nice to know I’m not the only non-vigilante here! Other than Alfred, of course.”

You laughed because it was polite, and took a seat next to him. “Yeah. Gotta admit we’re in pretty unique situations.”

He seemed to definitely understand what you meant by immediately going into a tirade about how annoying it was to get stood up all the time and how a lot of dates were put off for months to accommodate Tim’s “bat-schedule”. You understood a bit, more than once had you gotten dressed up for a date only to have Jason text saying that the two of you would have to reschedule. He’d make up for it with a bundle of apologies and promises that he had always kept. You’d try something else instead, working on small things for the weeks he was way too busy. It might have been a short dinner or even the two of you making a date out of going to the grocery store. It didn’t matter what small things it was as long as the two of you got to spend time together. 

You told Bernard as much. “It’s their life, Bernard.”

He rebuffed your comment, “Yet, they still can’t make time for us.”

“They can, but you gotta give them a chance first. Look,” You turned to look at him. “Let me lay it out like this. No one in this family is like us. They’ve had a whole different childhood and adulthood. About sixty-five percent of it is just fighting crime. Other than that, they haven’t had much experience with normal things, especially normal relationships.”

You could see the wheels in Bernard’s head turn as he thought over your words, and silently waited for his response. It took a good minute before he finally turned to you and quietly said, “But, when do you know it’s not enough?”

“Do you think it’s not enough?” Bernard shrugged, and you sighed. “You love Tim?”

He was quiet again then nodded, “Yeah.”

“Then rebuild and rework. When you finally see improvement or not, then you know. Talk to him about it, though. This is a two-way street.”

Bernard nodded, standing suddenly and bee-lining for the door. You took that as he wanted to start afresh with Tim as soon as possible. As soon as he was out the door, Jason slinked in right after, looking like he was after all the tea. You disclosed to him that despite being his girlfriend and accepting to help him it didn’t entitle him to know a private conversation. 

Jason tried to fight you on it, to at least let him know how it’ll work out. You implied that you didn’t know, and only said, “We’re still on for Friday night, right?”