#he knows how much of a sucker I am for talking through holding it back

[peach-snzfkr]

Me: *peacefully watching a YouTube video*

My husband: *looks at the light coming through the window, then turns to me and proceeds to comment on the video as his eyes glaze over and his eyebrows arch, and his face takes on that dazed expression like he's about to sneeze, yet he still goes on making a casual conversation like nothing's wrong... until he pauses, glances at the light again, and finally lets out three loud, forceful sneezes in a quick succession*

Me: what was he just talking about?.. 👁👄👁

[dearharriet]

I Want Your Video; Steve Harrington x Reader 📼

summary: steve always takes care of you on a night out.

word count: 1.4K

warnings: drinking, smoking, swearing, fem!reader, fluff

a/n: inspired by a djo song with the same title. i’m such a sucker for steve <3

“I ‘ave to go t’the bathrooom,” you tell Steve, holding tight to the hot skin of his bicep. In a drunken stupor, your thumb swipes sweetly over it once, unable to resist.

His other arm, the one you’re not holding to, has your clutch tucked under it. It’s unclear if he’s being gentlemanly or if he’s monitoring your intake. He certainly didn’t take Nancy’s or Robin’s. Or Argyle’s belly bag.

“‘Kay, be safe,” Steve says, patting your elbow. He looks a touch hot, red-cheeked and a little damp around the edges. Dancing must’ve made a mess of you if he looks so disheveled from just standing and talking. You furrow your brows.

“Come with me?” Pouting, your grip slides down to take his hand, but he pulls away.

“Uh—maybe Nance or Rob should do that.”

He says it like such a request is verboten. You look back towards Nance and Robin, relentlessly moving on the dance floor.

“They won’t go with meeee—“ you whine, and then simper when he sighs in defeat.

Steve steers you toward the stairwell that leads down to the toilets. While you weave through the crowds, he stays behind you, a steadying force at your back.

The stairwell is much cooler than the bar. It’s a relief to suck in air that’s not muggy with sweat and beer. At the bottom of the dingey stairs a couple is draped over one another talking closely, and nearer to the bathroom there’s a trio of people sharing a smoke and waiting. Steve and you take up residence just next to them. The concrete wall is cooling on your hot back and it elicits a sigh.

“Having fun?” Steve asks, facing you with his arms crossed and a shoulder leant on the wall. Your clutch is shoved in his front pocket like a miniature Bible.

“Uh-huh.” You nod with exaggerated windedness. “Wish you’d dance with me, though.”

The bathroom door clicks open and a guy comes out, nodding awkwardly at all seven heads turned his way. The queue dwindles to three again—plus Steve, who is smiling at you apologetically.

“Nah, you wouldn’t wanna see me dance. I tend to intimidate people with how skilled I am.”

A laugh bubbles out of you. “Ohhh, right,” you nod. “Must be hard, having all that talent. And you’re s’busy keepin’ me sober.” You speak so fast the words slur on the way out, and Steve chuckles teasingly.

“I’m doin’ a shit job, aren’t I? You’re in a state already.” He reaches out and brushes your arm when he says this, his knuckles leaving goosebumps behind them. When he pulls his hand back he’s grown more sincere. “Who said I’m keeping you sober? I’ve let you drink all you want.”

“You let me,” you tease, “But you’re keeping my wallet. And you’ve been watching me all night.”

“Yeah, well.” He looks defensive. “Someone’s gotta have your back.”

The bathroom door opens again, and the line shrinks even more. You pick the conversation right back up.

“What ‘bout Nance and Rob? And the guys?” Turning toward Steve, your arms cross so you’re mirroring him. “They’ve all got their wallets.”

“They’ve got each other, too.” Steve playfully swings at your shoulder, and you take the hit willingly. “Who’s got you, huh, rockstar?”

A smile splits your face with glee at the nickname. You step closer and you’re about to answer—you, you’ve got me—when Steve clears his throat.

You frown, and Steve smiles, juts his chin toward the bathroom door. It’s empty, you realize, and Steve and you are alone. It seems the third member of the bathroom trio was only company, like Steve.

“You know what to do,” Steve mutters, and you reluctantly peel away from the wall.

“Oh, wait!” You whip around and offer a hand out for your wallet. Steve gives it over wordlessly, and then you’re locking the door behind you.

As suspected, you look a mess. Your hair is frizzed and a touch tangled. Dark mauve eyeliner has smoked itself out—all over your undereye—and your cheeks are red and dampened with sweat.

Despite it all, you feel good. You brought your clutch so you could touch up your lipstick, and you do, but you don’t need to. It’s almost like what Steve said; You’re a rockstar. You look like one, anyway.

After washing your hands, the only thing you do to your appearance is fluff your hair up even more, playing up this smudged version of your original look.

It feels impossibly easy to grin at Steve once you emerge from the bathroom. Steve laughs.

“Why do I feel like you got more drunk while you were in there?”

You tighten your smile primly. “Not drunker, just better looking.”

Steve pulls his brows together almost painfully, his features unreadable. You saunter over to him anyways, stepping into his bubble. His full back is pressed to the wall now, a leg kicked up, and you’re as close as you can get without being thigh-to-knee. Steve’s nervous eyes scan you.

“Want me to take that?” Steve points to your clutch. You nod, but ignore the hand he has waiting for you. Feeling bold, you reach around him and tuck it into his back pocket. Your chests meet, and then crush closer as you both gasp. Pulling away feels suddenly impossible, so you don't, and Steve doesn’t make you. He licks his lips.

“Y’didn’t lock the door,” he mumbles, but your brain jumbles as his hand smooths over your ribs.

“Hmm?” You can’t be bothered with words, feeling more intoxicated by his touch than the three drinks in your system.

Steve rubs a small circle over your side. “The bathroom door,” he says softly, “it stayed on vacant the whole time.”

Oh, yeah. It had. Your mouth pops open, and then you shoot him a wry grin.

“Whoops.”

Steve’s responding head shake is exasperated but fond.

“You trust me too much,” he sighs.

It’s not a joke. A string of insecurity holds the sentence together, and you know what it is. It’s easy to see that he knows, too. Moving closer, committing to the embrace you’ve found yourself in, you pin Steve with a sincere stare.

“Do I?” It’s excessively rhetorical, stilling any rebuttal he has. Steve purses his lips together, and then glances at yours. You toe up ever so slightly, in anticipation. Both of Steve’s hands are on you now, though they’re holding your arms, keeping you at bay.

“We can’t,” Steve whispers, glancing at the stairwell, and you realize the bar is still upstairs with all of your friends. They’d probably come looking soon, vying for another round, another dance. You look to the stairwell too, and then to the other side of the hall, and back to Steve.

“Yet here we are.” The murmur is sultry, luring Steve closer, tempting his hand to wind into the soft hair at the nape of your neck.

“Here we are,” Steve repeats, and then your lips are abruptly too occupied by his to respond.

Steve’s hand that’s not gripping your neck winds over your shoulders, keeping you close. His nose crushes to your cheek as he drags his mouth over yours again and again.

A part of you—the same part that’s observing how good of a kisser he is—can’t believe you’re mouth to mouth with the Steve Harrington from high school. The other half, probably the truer half, knows it’s been a long time coming. Years of patching up and skirting around each other, protecting each other because you had to, and now taking care of each other because you wanted to. Because no one else would.

When you separate, you’re both breathless and effervescent. Steve is staring at you like you hung the moon.

“You’re so beautiful,” he coos, his thumb caressing the rosy apple of your cheek. Steve has a way of marrying sincerity and charm, and it needles at your heart ruthlessly.

You beam and kiss him again as a thank you.

“Think you might be glowing,” he continues, speaking right into your mouth. His teeth clack against yours as the kiss grows too smiley for its own good.

“You look pretty, too,” you goad, tracing his lips. “Cherry’s a good look on you.”

Steve pinches his brow and then notices your smeared lipstick.

“Aw, come on.”

You laugh and help him wipe it off, but when you return to the bar later, Argyle still complements Steve’s beautiful makeup.

+

thank you for reading ! my requests are open :)

masterlist

[ofskysanddragonsandstars]

As many TBB fans, we really missed out on Echo becoming a true member of Clone Force 99. Like yeah, the unresolved trauma, not to mention Fives, but we all known Echo is a little shit, and has been a little shit since his cadets days.

Let's explore this a little more.

Show me Echo finally getting to spar with someone, anyone, and just pulls a nasty move to win. You know, the kind of move that is downright dirty? We all know what i'm talking about. But show me TBB standing there in shock that this twig of a reg just took down someone twice his weight. He does not yet have all his muscle mass back yet! This was supposed to be a warm up for Echo. A way to build up his strength. Instead they get reminded that Echo is an ARC trooper and he has been through a lot.

Show me Echo trying to stop a cafeteria fight by reciting the reg manuals, saying "per regulation, fighting is not allowed in the cafeteria, and if you would have taken the time to read the reg manuals, you would have known that. Can you even read?" and Hunter furiously trying to deescalate the situation and failing. Echo gets sucker punched but the other clone does not get off as easily. Apparently he had to spend the night in the med bay. Echo only feels a little bit guilty.

Show me Echo matching Crosshair's snarkiness with his own. Remember "Bravo for Bravo Squad"? But instead of being angry with each other, it starts a beautiful friendship between the ARC and Snark troopers. The rest of TBB don't get how there friendship works and just have to roll with it.

But overall, let's not forget that ARC training happens on Kamino. Show me Echo being called up by the ARC trainer for demonstration purposes. Afterall, it's not everyday a war hero gets to help train new ARCs (except for Alpha-17, perhaps). Show me a bunch of new ARC recruits looking in astonishment because "holy Prime, that's ARC Echo of the 501st! He withstood the worst torture imaginable! He basically made half the 501st tactics with The Captain Rex of the 501st!" only for Echo to just crush there poor little preconceptions. Because this little shit keeps it real with these recruits, explaining the reality of going on a mission with a zero success rate, of going through torture, of having to build up physical strength to the point that no cyber implants hurt anymore. Echo does not hold back and has no filter, his words are practically as blunt as the dullest blade and it can hurt just as much. But even through that, no recruit can beat him in a spar. Yet. It's become a new challenge within ARC training.

Of course, I am a sucker for Mom Echo during season 1 and 2, but let me see Echo being a little shit before that! Let me see Hunter calling Cody one night after a successful mission asking "what is up with this reg? Are all ARC troopers like this?" And since Cody has known the little shits that make up the Domino Twins he just solemnly nods his head while sniggering on the inside. He calls Rex afterwards. Rex just laughs.

[eistro-phobia]

HCs for Russell Adler pt.2 — Adler x reader edition

1 | 2 | 3 | 4

I am back and I have more to say, strap in

Warnings: suggestive references

Is very hard to fluster. It's annoying how nonchalant this guy is; pretty much nothing fazes him enough to earn a visceral reaction out of him. And he knows it frustrates you; sometimes he messes with you on purpose.

Expresses love mostly through silent physical touch. Catch him putting a hand on your thigh as you watch TV, squeezing your flesh as he reads something or keeping his arm locked around your waist at an event. He's subtly possessive like that.

Is a sucker for shoulder rubs. Heaven is the feeling of coming home to you after a long day of work and having your gentle hands knead through his tense muscles.

Loves satin on a woman. Dresses, chemises, robes, lingerie sets; wear them around him and you'll have him gagged.

Sleeps like a fucking vampire. Now this is fine when he's on his own, but it's stupidly difficult to burrow into his figure when you wanna cuddle. The best you can get is laying flat on top of him and by then he's out cold on sleep meds so is it even worth it?

Has a weakness for sharp and dark-painted nails. Something about their elegance and femininity does things to him, especially when you dig them into his skin.

Is a sugar daddy. To literally no one's surprise. He's in a high ranking position and rarely ever spends on himself; any saved up cash he has is yours to spend and his to spend on you.

Also gets you expensive stuff as an easy out when he wants to apologize or get you in a good mood. At least until the one time he bought you the same necklace he'd gotten you a month before.

Isn't really a jealous guy. He's a smug and overconfident bastard; he doesn't care enough to get jealous of another man. But if he sees you laughing it up too much with someone else, he knows too well how to make the guy uneasy enough to walk away—just to make sure you don't get too comfortable.

Would spring to action if he did see you uncomfortable, though. He wouldn't cause a scene, he wouldn't resort to fists, he wouldn't even get overtly angry or aggressive. All he'd do is flash the steel of the Desert Eagle tucked in his jacket and tell the bastard to scram.

Is a silent listener whenever you vent or ramble, and this comes from experience. He's learnt that the usual response he has to give, "it's not that big of a deal" will indeed get a toaster thrown in his face.

Doesn't act like an asshole when you're on your period; he's surprisingly understanding and offers to take over cooking for you if your cramps are getting to you, even if he's had a long day.

Can actually cook, by the way. Mostly just meals his kids like that he's learnt to make when they're over. Mac and cheese, clam chowder, pancakes, quesadillas; nothing fancy, but he tries.

Would probably be the most tender during aftercare or pillow talk; he's instantly pulling you closer and onto his body, running his hands through your hair as you pant against him. Domesticity doesn't have a place in his precarious life, but laying there in the darkness, blowing smoke out of his lungs as he feels you doze off holding onto him is a close enough respite—and it's probably more than he deserves.

This one was shorter cause holy shit I had to cut so much Gonna make them their own posts that'll hopefully be out soon

[cowboyfromh3ll]

Henlo! If it's alright, could I request some headcanons for Arthur, Dutch, Hosea, Micah, and Kieran being told that their S/O has been killed by the O'Driscolls? But nobody can find their body because it turns out they survived and took care of the worst of their injuries before making it back a week or so later. I am a sucker for hurt/comfort content. Thank you for your time and hope you're doing well.

HC For VDL Boys Being Told Their S/O Was Killed By O'Driscolls Ft. Arthur Morgan, Dutch Van Der Linde, Hosea Matthews, Micah Bell, Kieran Duffy

Ohhh nice and angsty

Warnings: Mentions of death, mentions of violence, angst

Arthur Morgan

He would be absolutely broken

I don't think he'd go as far as to go out and kill O'Driscolls for revenge

But a new cavity in his heart would open up, and his hatred of the O'Driscolls would intensify

He wouldn't be able to get out of bed, would be incapable of taking care of himself, needs people to remind him to eat

Constantly scribbling in his journal about you

Probably the first time anyone in camp has seen him cry in a long long time

Only thing he'd get up for was to go in searches for your body

Is incredibly anxious the entire time they're looking for you and tries to mentally prepare himself for the sight of your body in who knows what state of decomposition

Once you return he'd think you're an apparition

He would be absolutely over the moon and crying tears of joy and relief

Interrogates you about your time gone but doesn't push it if the memories are too painful, you can visit that later

Helps mend any of your remaining injuries

Incredibly protective of you now and refused to let you go off on your own for a while

Holds you so so closely in bed the following nights, absolutely blots out the rest of the world with his body because he's scared if he lets go you'll disappear again

Dutch Van Der Linde

Like Arthur, he'd be destroyed as well

His mourning would cause him to jump to the anger stage immediately

Colm has already taken one lover from him, and now he's done it again? Tensions between the two gangs would be higher than ever before

He'd use the presumed death as an excuse to target Colm and the O'Driscolls for the week

Used the search for your body as an opportunity to interrogate and torture O'Driscolls. For once, he tells Arthur to back off so he can get blood on his hands

Despite everyone else's warnings, he just keeps on going and killing more O'Driscolls

When you finally return, he feels like he's hallucinating you because of his grief, and anger

Allows everyone else a moment to check over you before ushering you over to the privacy of his tent

Allows Ms. Grimshaw to follow so she can clean you up while he talks to you

Holds your hand the entire time and looks into your eyes while reassuring you that he'll never allow that to happen again

Insists you don't lift a finger for weeks afterward

Does NOT tell you about what he did while you were gone and simply speaks of his grief and his now relief that you're back

Hosea Matthews

He'd be grieving, but silently

He wouldn't be MIA like Arthur, and he definitely wouldn't be blinded by rage like Dutch

But he'd be a lot quieter, understandably, and you'd be able to see the deep sadness in his eyes

He didn't expect to lose a second lover, and his heart is heavy with feelings of loss

Would spend a lot of time talking about you to anyone who'll listen, mostly good memories

Turns down any of Dutch's suggestions to go out and take revenge, sees right through his attempts to use your presumed death as an excuse to kill a bunch of O'Driscolls

When you return he is all over you and is overjoyed by your presence

Takes care of all your injuries on his own and holds you sooo close the entire time

Reminds you how much he loves you because he feels like he didn't do it enough before he thought he lost you

Spends so much more time around you. If he wasn't attached to you by the hip before, he definitely is now

I don't think he'd doubt your ability to handle yourself; in fact, it'd probably be enforced by the fact you kept yourself alive for a week. But there'd be a lingering anxiety every time you go out

Micah Bell

Similar to Dutch, he'd go out and kill a shit ton of O'Driscolls

His grief translates to anger, and because I can't see him as a very sentimental person besides in terms of anger, that's the only way he'd express it

Probably wouldn't cry or show moments of vulnerability, but he'd be a lot more brutal in his killings

He'd spend a lot of time away from camp with Dutch probably looking for your body

Wouldn't return to camp for days

So you'd probably return to camp while he's gone, so everyone else tends to you before Micah can

When he returns he insists everyone else get away from you so he can take his own look at you

I wanna say you wouldn't receive a big welcome back gesture from Micah besides a rare shred of vulnerability where he tells you how happy he is to see you back

Don't get too mushy over it or else he'll backtrack

Kieran Duffy

He'd be HYSTERICAL

On his knees crying and wailing in the middle of camp while people try to comfort him

Would be the same level as MIA as Arthur and wouldn't talk to ANYONE

Spends all his time around the horses and doesn't talk to anyone

If anyone does try to talk to him he just stares off silently in the opposite direction

The gang could probably hear him sobbing silently at night while trying to sleep

Drinks himself half dead because he doesn't know how else to cope

Drinks so often that when you come back he doesn't think you're real for a few minutes

It's a huge moment of vulnerability between the two of you where you see each other at your lowest

But it would definitely bring the two of you closer! After the two of you have cleaned yourselves up and taken care of yourselves, you'd have long, deep conversations about what you went through and how happy you are to be back

Lots of reaffirming his love for you, never leaves your side

Insists he comes with you every time you go out. Thinks he wouldn't be able to do much in terms of protecting you, but the sentiment is so so sweet

Becomes more of a way of comforting himself and quelling his own anxiety

[imababblekat]

So Close

@badlywritten-stuff2 ,"i am a sucker for spiderman reader w the turtles so i was hit w a potentially galaxy brain (and. shippy.) idea; the reader and leo are about to have like, a spiderman-esqe kiss where the reader is hanging upside down on their web with only half their face showing (you know the scene-- that's ROMANCE baby!) maybe it's a little farther down the line, in terms of their relationship and it's crept into less platonic and more 'i like you' vibes but still very much leo doesnt know our beloved spidey's identity. then the boyz show up and they're all like "YALL WAS GONNA KISS??" and leo and spidey are like "NUH UH" or something idk! have fun with it i just got the sillies. thank you! i hope youre doing well!"

◌ S,p = Spider Persona ◌

~xXx~

The air felt chill across green pebbled skin, a light rain cascading down from the sky and creating a beautiful wash of colors of the city scape for Leo to gaze upon. Despite being a stickler for always staying together, especially when in the world above his home, the mutant turtle felt he exceptionally needed this moment of peace. Away from the loud bustle of his brothers, away from the grueling training he’d tunnel vision himself into in moments like these, and away from the heavy expectations of being not only the eldest but the leader put upon him.

With a heavy breath through his nose and eyes shut closed, the terrapin in blue had not noticed the quiet pitter patter of feet behind him.

“Looks like someone finally learned to get out and have some fun for once.”

Leonardo nearly jumped out of his shell, but was quick to recover and turned with a glare that quickly dissipated at realizing who his uninvited guest was.

“(S,p), what are you doing here?”, he questioned, trying his best to stop the small flutter in his chest.

Sitting on the ledge of the door that led to the roof they both now occupied, the eyes of the friendly neighborhood (S,p) motioned in a way of how one would quirk a brow.

“Uhm, fighting crime. What are you doing out here? Thought Raph was the one to go soloing about.”

Leo looked down to the city streets below, his face scrunching up at being reminded of one of his latest stressors.

“Nothing, I. . .I just needed some air.”

(S,p) frowned at this. The hunched form, stiff shoulders, and shadows beneath gorgeous blue eyes were only a few tell tales of what Leo was currently going through.

“Hey. . .”

Leo watched as (S,p) hoped down from their perch, walking only a few steps before sitting down on the edge beside him. A gentle hand had come to rest on Leo’s forearm, and even through the miraculous suit they wore, he could still feel the comforting heat of their touch.

“Remember what we talked about?”, (S,p) questioned, looking up into Leo’s cerulean(?) eyes, that of which shyly wished to look away but held firm.

“You can’t keep things bottled up, Leo. It’ll weigh you down till it suffocates you.”

Swallowing a tightness in his throat, said terrapin could no longer hold his best friends gaze, and instead focused on the smaller hand still rested upon him.

“I know. I’m still just not used to this kind of thing.”, he admitted, a dusting across his chilled cheeks in the New York night.

For a brief moment, he wondered if you were cold as well, and could not help the feeling of concern at you becoming sick for being out in such weather trying to comfort him. Though, he knew any attempt at dissuading you would be futile. The more time you and the four brothers had spent together, the closer you and honorable terrapin had grown, no way was he going to get rid of you that easily. Your gentle caringness you were about to display proving as such.

“That’s okay. That’s why I promised to always be here when you needed and were ready.”, you beamingly reminded, taking your other hand to gently cup Leo’s face and direct his focus back to you.

The flutter felt earlier returned once more to Leonardo’s chest, his wrapped hand reaching up to gently lay over the hand that still caressed his face.

How had he become so lucky to meet someone like you? He knew not of your true identity, but Leo still fully believed he could trust you with his life and vice versa. Maybe it was because you were not so normal yourself, but whatever the case may be, you never treated Leo like a freak. Not only that, but you saw more of him then some cold hardass leader. You saw past the wall he built, the façade he wore as his duty placed upon him at such a young age. It wasn’t that Leo disliked being a leader, but it hadn’t been easy on him and he very much felt alone at times. Yet, when you had stumbled into their lives, it was like a ray of sun came to cast out the rays of his lonely mind. You had always cared for him, and you still continued to do so, as he found himself doing for you as well.

There was no one he felt closer to in his whole life but you.

“So, do you feel up for talking? Or do you just wanna hang for a while?”, you quietly asked, tucking one of Leo’s mask tails aside.

With a warming smile, Leo stood, taking your hand he still held and pulling you up gently as well.

“I think I’d just like to hang, if you’re not too busy kicking bad guy butt.”

You giggled, a melody like sound to Leo’s ears as he watched you walk back to the place you once sat perched upon.

“For you? Never busy! I know this cute little roof top café we can hit up. It’s got a little private area the owner set aside for me to take breaks at. Won’t have to worry at all about any surprises.”

Watching you jump up to the higher roof ledge, Leo thought about your proposition. Sitting in a cozy area with calming night rain in New Yorker city, enjoying a nice warm cup of coffee with the one person who could light up a whole room? What could be better?

“That sounds really nice actually. They have any pastries?”, Leo asked, getting ready to follow you up.

“As a matter of fact, they do! Oooh, their honey rolls are just ab-shit!”

Leonardo's heart spiked as he saw you suddenly slip on the wet surface above, and with quick reflexes he lurched forward, ready to catch you in his arms. Unfortunately, your own reflexes had kicked in just in time for you to web your self to the dryer, bottom portion of the ledge, leaving you effectively upside down. Combining both of your quick movements, neither Leo or you had time to stop the momentum of your faces colliding together. Despite being masked, there was no doubt in either of your minds the connection you each felt upon one another's lips. As quick as it had happened it was just as quickly over; Leo stepped back faster than lightning and his face lighting up as red as his brothers mask. As for you, your whole body felt it’s only electricity, spidey senses going awry from the incident.

“I-I’m so sorry!! I was just trying to catch you and-“

“N-no, I should apologize! I’m the one who slipped!”

The air grew thick with silence, as neither you or Leo looked at the other, hearts still racing and emotions on the high end. You were still buzzing, a new feeling you had never felt before coursing through you. It was your spidey sense, that you knew, but it hadn’t been the same as every other time you’ve experienced it. It was warm, soothing, elating, like taking a nap cozied up in bed with the window open to allow for a nice spring breeze.

Taking a chance, you glanced over at Leo, the later still looking to the ground. Not aware of the eyes upon him, Leo slowly had reached up to touch his own lips, a glimmer in his eyes that had not gone unnoticed by you. The sight sent a flutter of your own though your chest, as you thought back on all the special moments that you both had shared.

Almost similarly to Leo, you had felt alone for so long. A hero with abilities never heard of before and no one to learn from. Navigating a new world and taking on responsibilities and hardships you’d never asked for. When you met the ninja turtles though, and found yourself in an ever growing friendship with Leonardo, you suddenly found yourself almost not ever remembering what loneliness felt like.

“Hey, Leo?”

Said terrapin was quick to look your way, feeling the shyness of your gaze as you called for him.

“Yeah?”

“Do you uhm. . .”

Your voice fell to a mumble, your characteristic bravado suddenly gone. Leo chanced stepping forward, and once sure that you were comfortable with him moving into your space he continued closer.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that.”

Leo felt a new nervousness within him. You both knew it was an accident, but dear god, did you hate him now? Was this going to change things for the worse? The thought of your friendship dwindling caused an ache in Leo’s heart as he worriedly waited for you to repeat yourself. However, the next words you’d speak would be the complete opposite of the turmoil within his mind.

“I-I said. . .do you want to try that again?”

Leo gulped, his eyes behind his blue mask widening.

“What? Kiss?!”

“Yeah.”

“Uhm, but your mask. Are you sure your okay with?”, Leo gestured to his own face, knowing how important your identiy was to you.

You simply nodded, gaze just as soft as the handsome one now mere inches from you.

“You can pull it down part way.”

“Are you sure?”, Leo asked once more, half lidded stare looking into the eyes of your mask, that of which he swore for but a brief second he saw (e,c) orbs.

“Yeah, I trust you.”

That was all that Leonardo needed to hear, his heart now feeling like it would explode just by your simple, but powerful statement. Ever so gently he peeled down your mask, mind a flutter at finally seeing some hint of your true self. This whole action and moment had been elating for you as well, a thrill in your heart at feeling the brush of Leo's hands across your bare skin.

With the ambiance of falling rain, glowing lights of ranging hues, and the warmth of the others breath, the kiss Leo was about to share with you, would be a cherished memory for a life time and more.

“Hey, guy’s! I found him!”

Never had you pulled your mask up so quickly, and never had Leonardo let out such a roaring groan. Foot falls came to a halt as Raphael, Donatello, and Michelangelo hopped onto the roof top you both occupied.

“What the hell, man?! We’ve been tryin’ to reach you all night!”, Raph glowered throwing his hands up as his brother in blue sent him the sharpest of glares.

“There’s been a Foot Clan robbery, and NYPD needs back up.”, Donnie hurriedly spoke, too focused on one of his gadgets to take notice of the same death glare sent his way.

Ultimately, it was Mikey who had come to read the room, going to give you an excited greeting when he took notice of the bashful look displayed on your mask, Leo’s deep scowl, and the close proximity between you both. The biggest, toothiest of smiles breached the youngest face, but Leo had no time to stop him from speaking out.

“Yooo!! Were you two about to do what I think you were about to do?!”

Raphael and Donnie confusedly looked to Mikey, Leo furiously making motions to get Mikey to shut up.

“What are you talking about, Mikey?”, Raph spat, not in the mood for his antics.

“Oh you knooow~ Leo and (s,p), sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G!”

Realization smacked both Raph and Donnie in the face at that moment as they quickly looked between you both, each’s expression brimming with surprise.

“Wait, seriously?! Is that why you weren’t answering your phone?!, Donnie gawked while adjusting his glasses.

“So, like. . .with mask or no mask?”, Raph questioned with a shit eating grin.

Another heavy groan reverberated from Leonardo as his brother huddled together to begin their collective teasing. How was he going to survive this? Cheeks hot with embarrassment as his brother laughed and continued to banter from a distance, Leo turned to apologize to you, only to find you suddenly absent. Leo felt a sudden sadness at your disappearance, but a ping to his phone caught his attention. A text notification, above the many missed calls from his siblings, caught his eyes.

“Meet you dorks at the robbery! Coffee after? Or will you be too busy dying from your brothers torment? ; )”

Leo let out a breathy chuckle, and with a warm grin and even warmer heart, sent a message in return.

“For you? Never busy!”

~xXx~

[gabessquishytum]

After hob finds calliope and beat the shit out of madoc until he freed her, they fell in love. Then they caught wind of Dream’s capture and they rescued him together.

Naturally they all three fall in love. Things are good for a while. Hob feels a strong compulsion to make sure his immortal lovers are okay. He takes the best care of him, making sure his home is always welcoming, even if they might go months at a time without checking in. He knows they’re busy. He’s just grateful for the time he gets with them.

Hob is a natural caretaker and he loves it, he really does, but after a while he starts having trouble getting out of bed.

Calliope has gone back to Greece to reunite with her sisters and Dream is restoring his kingdom and suddenly hob feels a fog coming over him.

He starts crying at odd times for no reason. He’s been caring for his lovers so hard for so long without rest or thinking as much about his own needs, and he’s lonely and he misses them desperately—but he doesn’t want to ask for more of them. They’ve had enough of humans demanding things from them. Hob is determined to get better on his own.

Luckily, one of his lovers is the king of dreams who notices the longing thread running through hob’s subconscious.

This is amazing - I am SUCH a sucker for Hob being cared for and having his mental health recognised by his partners. And this is such a good fit with the immortal throuple.

Like. Dream notices that Hob's dreaming vibes are a bit off, and he consults with Calliope about it, and suddenly they realise that they may have been neglecting their human a bit. It wasn't malicious, they just forgot that humans tend to feel very strong attachments and that it would be natural for Hob to miss them both very intensely. Cue the two of them descending on Hob as he rots in his bed. Suddenly he's showered in apologies and kisses and gifts. He ends up crying even more, just from the sheer relief that they noticed him. They noticed his sadness. And they didn't make him feel like he shouldn't feel that way.

He does get a very stern talking to, mainly from Calliope, about how his feelings are important and that he needs to communicate and not see himself as a less important part of their relationship. He is the glue that holds them together. He is loved and valued, and he should never feel the need to be silent or to hide himself. Dream and Calliope will always come to him when he asks, not because he demands it - but because they love him.

Hob will never have to get better on his own, when he has two partners who want nothing more than to help him.

[returntosunder]

Oh boy- I've finnaly convinced myself to send my AU for the ramblings. Idk if I'd call it an au like the others, which is why I've been hesitant to send it but oh well, I adore it to bits and love any opportunity to talk about it so here I go.

It's called Monarchverse. And it's an alternate multiverse rather then just an AU. The story is a fic I'm working on, and it centers around this multiverses Ink.

Since I'm actively publishing the story, I won't give away ALL the secrets. But the main gist is that Ink, doesn't have the chance to destroy his soul. He manages to leave the dying sketches of his world before he's even grown into a toddler. Eventually, when hes seven in monster years, he's found by Nightmare. Nightmares intrigued by this strange little child that somehow psychically called out to him across worlds for "help". He doesn't know *how* but he's intrigued as to what this kid can do.

There's other reasons he takes the ink too, but for summaries sake. Basically he takes Ink to the others and Horror, Killer, Dust, and Cross now gotta deal with a very traumatized baby that Nightmare brought back.

Killer:....you want a beer?

Cross: you can't give that to him!? He's like- Four!!

Killer: WELL IDK WHAT DO WE DO WITH HIM!?!?

Horror: *silently picks up Ink while the others bicker and puts him to bed*

It's basically an exploration of Nightmare and his gang raising Ink. How that'd affect his personality along with having a soul. (Perfectly normal soul over here dw) exploring how the multiverse had functioned from its creation without Ink and the consequences. And then a bunch of other fun additional things. Like new characters, personal headcanons, and of course. Drama. So much. Everyomes gonna go through it, and when i say everyone i mean EVERYONE. I..am obsessed with this au you have no idea how badly I'm holding myself back from.dumping the entire story on my tumblr every day XD. I gotta write it all out first~

Or maybe it's just an excuse for me to write Ink driving these guys crazy? Both. Yeah it's both. Nightmare has glitter banned in the castle for a REASON. And for once that reason isn't Killer.

...Kay he's half the reason.

Edgy gloomy villian adopts rainbow hyper kid who wants to paint on his perfectly clean and dark walls. There's not enough color and goddammit Ink is gonna give this castle some.

Anyways. Here's some doodles of Ink as a bb and a wip of ink older when the main sorta big story and plot starts.

Inks magic is mainly pink bc...I said so. I love pink :3 also ignore the signature. Those are an old name.

Sorry if this sounds kinda self advertising-ey. I just rlly love chances to talk about and share this au.

ITS NOT SELF ADVERTISING AT ALL! ITS SO CUTE OMG (And even if it is, I dont mind it ^^)

YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND HOW MUCH I LOVE WHEN VILLAINS OR BAD GUY GROUPS ADOPTED A KID, IM SUCH A SUCKER FOR THAT IN STORIES AND FICS OML

Also, I LOVE THAT VIDEO! Killer would totally offer beer lol, and thank god Horror took Ink away and put him to bed, very cute ^^

Nightmare banning glitter made me laugh omg

Omg i love Ink with the pink eyes! it looks so cool! (Lol thats so valid. Pink is such a pretty color ^^), and your doodles are so good! I really love the one with Nightmare and Ink looking threatening

I would love to read this! It's so cute, and i would love to see the chaos that would happen in the castle. And im very curious about how Ink being raised by Nightmare would affect the multiverse

[toms-cherry-trees]

Don't Hold My Hand (I'll Break Your Heart) || Tommy Shelby x Fem OC ~ Ch. 4

Summary: Charlotte realises that she doesn't know her employer as well as she thought she did. Clouded by indecisions, she takes a path that may have unexpected consequences when things take a turn for the worst

Word Count: 5.2k

Warnings: Talks of medical procedures, needles and blood. Mentions of PTSD. Tommy gets violent. No beta reading we die like John

Author’s note: I have NO excuse. Not even I know why I dropped the ball on this, but I will just say that 2024 has been sucker punching me in the face since January 1st and has not given me respite. I am hoping that this time I will be able to post more consistently, but again, who knows with me?

PLEASE LET ME KNOW IF YOU NOTICE ANY GRAMMAR ERRORS

Requested taglist: @call-sign-shark  @zablife

《Prev part -

Bright sunlight peeked into the bedroom through the gaps in the curtains, bathing everything in golden warmth. Blackbirds and nightingales chirped in their branches, their cheerful songs mingling with the sounds of the daily bustling of the state; horses neighing in their paddocks, hounds barking at the sight of wild rabbits; the old truck coming up the road bringing fresh meat and groceries for the week. It all sounded so typical, so average, not a toe out of place, nothing out of the ordinary. Except Charlotte.

The first thing she noticed was that the bed under her aching body was not hers. Albeit top quality, the mattress she slept in had obviously been used before; softer around the middle and with a characteristic indent in the exact position where she sat every morning to slip on her stockings and shoes. But the one under her was much firmer and sturdy, and her back had definitely noticed it. The pillows also felt different, as did the sheets. The sun shone on the wrong side, not landing on the bed like she preferred. But it was all forgotten when she noticed a hand clinging to hers, fingers intertwined with her own on a gentle grip.

Her eyes opened abruptly, and she sat up so quickly bright lights danced in her vision. She was used to being awoken in a startle; injured and dying soldiers didn’t wait for her to wash her face and tighten her corset before coming in. But waking up in Tommy’s bed, dressed in only her nightgown and robe and with his hand laced with hers surpassed any startle. 

The memories from the last 24 hours flooded her mind like a horror movie. Doctor Keller’s visit, the uncertainty of the wait, the abrupt waking up with Thomas moaning in pain in the dead of the night, and the horrifying discovery of the punctures on his back, crimson blood soaking through gauzes and clothes onto the bed sheets. 

The man next to her slept so peacefully, face buried in the pillows and soft snores escaping his lips, one could hardly believe the suffering he had been subjected to just hours prior. The laudanum dosage Charlotte administered should keep him out of it until midday at least, but that didn’t worry her; he definitely looked like he needed that rest.

Carefully, with the same gentleness one would handle a newborn with, Lottie turned him on his side, propping his body with pillows to properly assess the damage. At least he hadn’t bled through his clothes again, but that small relief did little to placate the cold feeling that settled at the bottom of her stomach after she cut off the bandages. 

The wounds on his back had already begun to scab, surrounded by near black bruises of various sizes, from his mid back all the way down to the top of his tailbone. The punctures were evenly spaced both sideways and lengthwise, and Charlotte soon realised they were meant to follow the length of his spine. She could not even fathom the pain those must have caused, nerve damage or not.

Charlotte didn’t know how to proceed from there. Every fibre of her being urged her to run to Mrs. Gray, expose Doctor Keller for a charlatan, and let the Peaky Blinders dispose of him as they saw fit. But on the other hand, acting behind his back would surely shatter the feeble bond of trust Lottie and Tommy had developed. It didn’t matter that she only did it with his best interests in mind; he would perceive it as betrayal on her part, and would set back the small but significant progress she had made with him. She had a duty with her patient, but that duty had divided in two widely different roads, both pulling at her with equal strength.

A firm knock on the door interrupted her train of thought. In a panic, she realised it was a quarter past 10 in the morning, much later than the hour in which she usually fetched Tommy’s breakfast tray from the kitchens, a little after 9. A second, much larger panic overcame her as she took note of her state of dress, or rather, undress. She had no proper excuse to be in her nightgown only, and even if she explained that she had spent the night watching over Thomas, it still did not give her reason to look like she had just risen from bed, his bed. 

She paced back and forth, debating whether to answer the door or just feign deafness and pretend she wasn’t there. She could not hide there forever, but she much preferred to step out with no witnesses present. And God forbid it was Mrs. Gray on the other side; she held the woman in high esteem, and being found by her in such a compromising situation was mortifying, even if nothing less than honourable had happened. 

A third knock urged her to make a decision, and a small, female voice coming from the other side

“Nurse Tindall, are you in there? I’ve brought up the breakfast tray for Mr. Shelby, may I come in?”

Lottie breathed a sigh of relief as she recognised the voice of Ella, a new maid who was as sweet as she was witless. It would not be hard to distract her, as she did anything she was asked to, no matter how stupid the request sounded. Charlotte cleared her throat and walked closer to the door, making deliberate sounds around to appear busy.

“Mr. Shelby is getting dressed, come back later please” She did her best to sound firm in a kind way, not wanting to trigger another of the girl’s crying episodes over feeling herself scolded. But much to her unluckiness, Ella seemed committed to delivering the food, surely not wanting to unleash the cook’s wrath upon her. Peeling a cartful of potatoes surely drivers the lesson home to not let the eggs go cold.

“But I’ve already brought the tray over, and Mrs. Bird will be upset if I go back down with it. May I come in? I promise I won’t look!” Lottie could hear the distress in the girl’s voice; she knew that Ella would not survive long in the house’s service like that.

“I said no, Ella. Mr. Shelby needs his privacy” Her words came a little harsher than she had originally intended, and she could practically see Ella flinching and the wobble of her lower lip. Not wanting to send the maid back down defeated and in tears, she spoke again, a little softer this time “Leave the tray on the side table and I’ll bring it in once we’re finished here”

Lottie waited with bated breath, ears perked up as she heard Ella push aside some ornaments to place the silver tray down, catching even the soft tinkling of saucers and teacups. Her relief lasted only until she heard footsteps going down the stairs, for soon a deeper, slurred voice came from behind her.

“With that level of quick minded resourcefulness, you could work for my company”

Tommy was awake, no doubt aroused from his slumber by her banter with the maid. Charlotte had been certain that the sleeping tinctures would keep him under until at least after lunch, but again, what could half a cup of laudanum do against a man who had been using morphine and opium freely for the best part of the last five years?

Her nurse instincts kicked in and she immediately rushed to his side, taking a motherly stance as she gently brushed hair away from his forehead, discreetly checking for any rise in his temperature; although he felt sweaty, he didn’t seem to be running a fever. Her fingers circled his wrist, counting the steady beats of his heart, and her ears perked up, ready to detect any change in the pattern of his breathing.

“I am not dying, not yet at least” Thomas huffed, in what turned out to be a poor attempt at lightening the severity of the situation. But even then he couldn’t deny he had been left extremely weakened; even opening his eyes appeared to be a struggle, and the dark circles under them cut sharply against the sickly paleness of his complexion.

Charlotte felt grief tugging at her heartstrings at his sight, alongside an overcoming sense of guilt for not having stopped Doctor Keller; she should have trusted her gut and dragged them all out by the ankles the second they kept her from accompanying Thomas through the treatment. Nothing good ever came from things happening behind closed doors. And certainly nothing good could ever come from a treatment that required him to be gagged and held down.

She reached over to the basin to retrieve a damp cloth, gently dabbing away the sweat from Tommy’s temples and brow. His eyes closed again, tongue darting out to moisten his cracked lips. Lottie wanted to ask, she needed a what, a how and a why, but she didn’t want to push him when he looked like that, so miserable and battered. The sight of his back pierced and stabbed, his limp body lying on blood soaked sheets, and the helplessness and vulnerability in his eyes, had been forever engraved in her memory. To see a man like him brought down to that, it made her heart ache.

“Are you hungry?” She asked quietly, swallowing down her other questions and worries to focus first and foremost on his comfort. “I could ask the cook to make you something light if your stomach is upset. Maybe some soup and toast?”

He shook his head, opening one eye just enough to gauge Charlotte’s expression. Just like his aunt’s, there was something unsettling about Thomas’s gaze. While Mrs. Gray looked like she could know all your secrets with just one look, Thomas had a certain determination in his eyes, a glint of mischief added with something that Lottie couldn’t quite pinpoint; but she knew for certain that Mr. Shelby could convince anyone to do his bidding only by staring them down. But she also noticed he possessed the same perennial shadow that all war veterans did; a mark that they all shared and would never fade.

“I suppose asking you for a glass of whiskey and to pass me cigarettes won’t work even now, eh?”

Charlotte had always had more than a few opinions about Thomas’ average diet of eating nothing, but the fact that he felt well enough to joke about it did manage to lighten her spirits. She noticed he kept trying to dampen his lips and his tongue appeared quite parched; with a teaspoon she managed to give him some sips of water, since she didn’t feel confident enough to sit him up just yet.

A pregnant silence hovered in the air, with Charlotte knowing both had things they wanted to say. Her thoughts continued to swirl around aimlessly, torn between rushing straight to Mrs. Gray to tell her everything she knew so far, or to wait to hear the complete story from Tommy’s lips. But would he be willing to tell? Did he remember even, or had the memories been wiped away by the trauma and the pain medicines?

Even if she wished to avoid it forever, she couldn’t. She needed to redo the dressings on his back, and she had learned through experience the way some veterans reacted when their wounds were touched, as if the contact triggered the memories they so desperately tried to bury deep, deep down. And so, she figured she might try while the laudanum still lingered, hoping that the remaining opioids in his system would keep him tame should he lash out.

“Tommy, there’s some wounds left on your back from your…treatment” Calling that medicine left a bitter taste on Charlotte’s mouth, but she couldn’t go and call it torture to his face “I need to bandage them again but I promise to be careful. You need to let me know if anything is bothering you, is that okay?” A part of herself felt she was talking him down like a child, but that had worked before with other veterans in similar situations, and at worse, Thomas would get mad at her, which would be no different than usual.

But much to her surprise, Tommy appeared awfully calm with the information she had just given her, as if the notion of having been poked full of holes didn’t faze him at all. A chill ran down Charlotte’s spine as she began to consider the option that Tommy knew what had been done to him, or worse, that he had willingly submitted to it.

While she gathered her supplies, she noticed some dried blood lingered under her nails from the previous night’s ordeal. The sight of all that blood, gauzes dripping with it, the liquid pooling since the sheets could not soak up any more…She had seen ten times worse over the years in the front, and had faced it all with a sternness that unnerved even her colleagues. Why could she not detach herself this time? Was it because she could not stand the desperate being taken advantage of? Or had she grown attached at last to her insufferable patient?

Suddenly her common sense decided to abandon her. She dropped what she had on her hands and rounded the bed to face Thomas, leaning down until she was eye to eye with him. She had to gauge the truth from him, she needed the story straight so she could put a stop to this.

“Thomas…Thomas do you know what that doctor did to you?” She breathed through her nose once, to keep her voice from faltering “Did he tell you what he did exactly?” She reached to take one of his hands. The previous night the contact had been an act of desperation, and now it bore similar purpose “I don’t know if you remember but last night you woke up and..and you were-”

“Bloodied and in pain? Yes, I remember” The way he said it, with such carelessness as if he were simply saying he woke up thirsty, didn’t sit quite right with Charlotte. Far too calm, even for a man like him. “Doctor Keller warned me that the first couple of nights would be difficult to get by. He told me to rely on the laudanum, but I thought I could toughen it out. I should have listened…the doctor always knows best.” 

His dovish words confirmed her worst fears, and Lottie felt her stomach drop to her knees. He knew. He knew everything that had been done to him. How could he not? Thomas Shelby wouldn’t let a doctor put a single finger on him without knowing first what would be done to him. 

Her grip on his fingers tightened, and she leaned closer, far closer than their faces had even been before “Tommy, what he’s done to you is inhuman. It’s barbaric. I’m sure men who have been tortured have endured less than what you did yesterday. You cannot let him get away with it, or he will do it again to others. I will tell Mrs. Gray to deal with him, we won’t let him get close to you again”

“No” That time, his hand gripped hers, with such strength that made her fingers ache. “You will not do such a thing. You will leave that man alone, and let him do what he must. Understood?” There, in that moment, Charlotte caught a glimpse of what Tommy used to be like, when he was the man that terrorised Small Heath and had half of Birmingham bending the knee like he were some sort of king. A man who had built an empire from scratch and, rumour had it, ruled it like a tyrant. 

“Thomas, look at yourself!” She protested, not allowing herself to be intimidated “Look at what he’s done to you. What treatment can be worth being punctured by needles the length of your hand all down your back? Do you even know what’s been injected?”

“I don’t need to know. All I need it’s for it to work” He had to have lost his mind, That was the only answer as to how Thomas could so blindly trust Keller. That quacksalver had sweet spoken his way into Tommy’s mind, and had used his fear and hopelessness as grounds to plant the seed of hope. He saw Tommy as a drowning man, and appeared before him offering him a raft, which turned out to be only a rotten piece of wood.

“No” Determination laced Lottie’s words “I will not allow this to continue. You have been taken for a fool, Thomas, and it is my duty as your nurse to make you see reason when you can’t for yourself. I know a trickster when I see one, and God knows I’ve seen plenty” She felt anger loaded in her words; but not directed at her patient. Rather directed at Keller, and the dozens of men like him who saw chance for profit in the suffering of the war veterans who had lost everything fighting for their lives “I will not allow that man to set foot here again. I’ll barricade the door myself if I must, and I know Mrs. Gray will agree with me” Charlotte knew that Mrs Gray tried to antagonise her nephew as little as possible, only in extreme circumstances; well, this was definitely one of those.

What happened next took Lottie completely aback. Thomas let go of her hand, but instead gripped her chin, his fingers holding her with such strength that she felt the pain radiate up her jaw. His eyes were pure ice, cold and unforgiving, and he pulled her face down, forcing her to meet his gaze

“You won’t do shit. You will do what you do, what you are paid to do, and nothing more. For everything else, you keep your head down. I believe Polly told you that you would be expected to turn a blind eye for some things; well, this is one of those things. You are not family, you are just a worker, and you do what you are told, eh?”

“But-”

“But nothing” His grip tightened even more, if possible, forcing a whine out of Charlotte’s lips. She had never seen him like this before, not even during her first days in the manor when he did everything in his power to be a nuisance to her and scare her away. He had screamed, he had slammed tables, he had thrown to the wall cups and glasses and trays, but not even once had he laid a hand on her “You do what I say, and nothing more. If you tell Polly, I will fire you on the spot. If you try to interfere with Doctor Keller, things can get very ugly very quickly. Am I clear?”

Charlotte felt fear. For the first time since her arrival to Arrow House, she felt fear. Her heart hammered her ribs and her knees felt weak. This man before her was not the Tommy who had shown weakness just the night before, asking her to keep him company for the night and holding her hand; not even the man who had flipped over a table because she begged him to eat. Lottie recognised in him the first tendrils of the madness proper of someone with nothing left to lose. Tommy saw Keller as his last chance, and he would not let anything or anyone take that chance away. He had become obsessed, and obsession was just a step away from madness.

She nodded at his words, if anything to get Tommy to let go of her face. After a few more seconds of staredown, in which she felt diminished to the size of a mouse, Tommy let her go and laid back down

“Good. Now fuck off. Doctor Keller said that the wounds need to be aired to heal faster, and I want to sleep”

Somehow, Charlotte found enough control of her legs to stand and walk away, tripping on the carpet and crashing against an armchair on her way out. Her heart beat rampantly, the thumping booming on her ears and temples. She held herself until she had closed the double doors behind her, and only then collapsed against the panelled wall, burying her face in her hands. She had been threatened before, plenty of times, by men far too deep in their cups, or their drugs, or in the demons inside their heads. 

But never before by a true threat.

She knew as well as any what the Peaky Blinders did, and she knew they had no qualms on the choosing of their victims. And something in the way Tommy said those words, the intensity of his gaze, the strength of his grip, told Charlotte that he wouldn’t doubt acting upon his words should she cross him. 

She immediately thought of telling Mrs Gray everything. Every last detail, her position in the house be damned; Thomas could fire her but he could not rid himself of his aunt. With that steely determination Charlotte walked down the stairs, her steps resonating in the emptiness of the house. But that lasted only until she reached the landing. Would Mrs Gray side with her? Or would she let her nephew entertain his false hopes, if only to give him a false sense of happiness? Would she find in the older woman an ally, or would she just waste her time and her job entertaining her sense of justice? After all, just like Thomas said, she was just a worker, not family, and she should not speak above her station.

And yet.

Clinging onto her morals as only support, Charlotte set out to find Mrs Gray and tell her exactly what had happened; it might cause her to lose the best job she had held since the war ended, but at least she would leave that house at peace with her morals. But her mission finished as quickly as it began. She asked Frances the whereabouts of Mrs Gray, and a bucket of ice water was dropped upon her head when she was informed that Mrs. Gray had left to tend business in London and would not return for at least a week. Speaking face to face with her, locked in the privacy of the older woman’s office was one thing. But telephone her all the way to London, and possibly interrupt her affairs to basically snitch on her nephew…

A week. She would have to wait a week. And Charlotte hoped her resolve would last that long.

~

She felt out of place, wearing her blouses and skirts after spending the best part of half a year in only her nurse uniforms. Lottie sat on the terrace of a fancy French cafe, enjoying an espresso and a small assortment of pastries. She had a few magazines before her, and pen and paper to finally write down those letters she had due for weeks, but she simply could not concentrate, not on a day like that. The bells of a nearby church rang five times; in the blink of an eye two hours of her life had escaped her, for it was a few minutes past three when she sat on that chair, feeling her knees weak and her hands clammy.

After Tommy’s threat, things had gone down as well as one could expect. Charlotte spent the following week walking on eggshells around him, scared to even look him in the eye. Tommy had been a particularly obedient patient, dutifully drinking all his medicines and eating all his meals like he had never done before, but he had once more condemned Lottie to the silent treatment, not giving her more word than the occasional command to bring him something or, more specifically, to leave him alone. She had anxiously awaited the return of Mrs. Gray, hoping his aunt would help him see reason where she had failed so spectacularly. 

The showdown between them had surely been heard all through the county, the tone of their argument escalating steadily to the point Charlotte could clearly listen to every word they said, even sitting at the foot of the staircase, her elbows resting on her knees and her thumbs pressing on her brow in hopes of alleviating what had become a chronic headache. Perhaps she had committed a calamitous mistake telling everything to Mrs. Gray. Or perhaps her first big mistake had been taking that job.

When Mrs. Gray finally came down to meet her, she looked absolutely defeated; and Lottie knew right away that she had risked it all for nothing.

Thomas had absolutely refused to back down on his treatment, quoting over and over that Keller said it had to get worse before it got better. He had said horrible things about his aunt and Charlotte, about how they wished him ill and had no desire to see him recover his life because it suited them better to keep him chairbound. Mrs. Gray had let the hurtful words sweep past her like breeze, but Charlotte felt them more like stones thrown to her face, even if they were just lies. 

In the end, Lottie had not been fired, her job position saved by Mrs Gray’s resilience to not let go of the first caretaker who had made it past the three month mark. She did however insist that Lottie cash in all the days off she was owed, plus an extra paid day on the house. That gave her exactly a week of holiday, and therefore, would keep her away the day Doctor Keller was scheduled to come for his next appointment. 

When she boarded the car that would take her to the station that Sunday morning, wearing her navy blue coat and her prettiest hat, a part of her wondered if she should leave for good; mail in her resignation and have someone else pick up the rest of her belongings. She could not envision what future she could have there now, as her relationship with Tommy had surely been permanently and irreparably damaged by their rift. He would never trust her completely again, and she couldn’t stand by idly and watch him pay himself into an early, horrific death.

Not wishing to spend her week in good old Birmingham, Lottie decided her salary allowed her to take her time off in London. She found lodging on a small bed and breakfast near Camden, and put her time to good use, hoping to keep herself distracted. She got new books to read, dined in a different place each night, and finally gave her wardrobe a much overdue refresh. But she could never shake off the knowledge that, each day that passed, was a day closer to Doctor Keller returning to Tommy’s side. It remained a perpetual nagging feeling on the back of her mind. She could not go a single day without something reminding her of it.

Charlotte felt her blood boil whenever she thought about how many men had been tricked before Thomas. Perhaps if she found one or two who had undergone the same treatment, with obviously less than satisfactory results, they could help her convince Tommy to abandon before it was too late. Hoping against hope, she set aside money to post a few small, as inconspicuous as possible advertisements, avoiding directly mentioning the doctor by name. At worst, it would all end in a few wasted coins and nothing else. 

Saturday she spent in a continuous fright, obsessively checking the hour everywhere she could. By 3 pm, she knew that awful man and his equally awful aids would be crossing the threshold. By 6, she figured they would be done cleaning up whatever gruesome mess they had left behind, with Tommy tucked in bed, absolutely knocked out by double and triple doses of opioids. 

She couldn’t find sleep that night, tossing and turning until the blankets were tangled in her legs. Even through emotional exhaustion her mind refused to quiet down. Was Tommy sleeping well? Was he comfortable? Would he wake again in the dead of the night in agony and alone, with no one to wipe his brow or change the sheets? Charlotte tried and failed again and again to force the thoughts out of her mind, but they refused to budge; even if she chastised herself for caring so deeply, she couldn’t help herself.

Sunday she spent no better, and after a short walk she decided to return to her room and give herself a lazy day, rearranging her suitcase and indulging in one of her new books alongside some cookies she bought nearby. She wasn’t expected back on the manor until Tuesday morning, yet she kept all her belongings packed and ready to go fleeing out the door.

After a humble dinner in a nearby pub, Lottie returned to her lodgings, deciding to indulge herself with a long bath, taking advantage of having a private bathroom. But just as she had crossed the entrance, a bellboy came to meet her, telling her there was a call for her on the front desk. 

Puzzled, Lottie followed the boy, wondering who could be calling her at that hour, since no one knew her whereabouts. Trepidation creeping up her spine, she picked the apparatus, trying to ignore the uncomfortable fluttering in her gut

“Hello?”

“Charlotte” Mrs Gray's voice resounded from the other side. Despite the familiarity, the knowledge that it was her calling didn’t reassure her one bit. A woman like her didn’t call at that hour to talk about the weather

“Mrs Gray, is everything okay?” She didn’t even bother to ask why or how she had Charlotte’s current address. They knew everything about everyone; they probably knew more about Charlotte than she herself did.

“No, things are not okay. Doctor Keller came yesterday; only God knows what he did, but Tommy didn’t wake up until today after midday, and he didn’t let me or any of the maids touch him or feed him”

Charlotte sighed, sensing immediately where the conversation was heading “Mrs. Gray, if you think that I can get past his thick head-”

“No” The older woman cut short “I don’t think you can, and that’s not why I called. Around dinner I went to check on him, try to get him to eat. Force feed him if I must. And I found him” Charlotte could hear her sigh slowly “I found him unconscious. So pale he was grey, laying in a pool of sweat. He had vomited too, I think. Couldn’t even wake him with a slap to the back”

Charlotte’s eyes widened, and her heart raced at the information she received, immediately noticing how bad the situation had turned “Mrs Gray, that is very serious. He needs to be seen by a doctor! Did you-”

“I called the ambulance. They’ve taken him right away. It’s the hospital I’m calling from. The doctor says he has an infection and that it’s reaching his blood”

Charlotte swallowed. Infections of the blood never had a good prognosis in the field, not even in the hospitals. Yet she clung to false hope when she asked her next question

“Did he…did he say it was bad?”

The pause that followed seemed to stretch for days, but that wasn’t half as bad as hearing Mrs. Gray voice crack for the first time

“They say he’s likely to die”

[vyladerz]

So season 7 is a season that exists for sure.

Okay look, I believe on my first watch I was a bit too harsh on some aspects of season 7. On my last re-watch, I have gained a much better understanding of some (SOME, not all) of the character/plotlines decisions that were made. Now, this isn't the worst season ever made, there is still plenty to enjoy but it's a far cry from anything like seasons 1-5 and I fear that is becoming a theme for these latter seasons. I am getting a bit drained here but I refuse to be totally pessimistic about the next seasons. I won't be broken yet trust.

I've been holding my tongue for too long and I might just start rambling nonsense about the poor characterization/continuity this season. Though I'll try my best to make it comprehensible.

Starting 'The Girl Next Door' for the first time, I was so eager to dig my teeth into this episode because of the young Sam flashback scenes (I've mentioned being a sucker for flashback scenes before). I was fascinated with learning more about Sam's past with Amy, being that she's a monster and the whole philosophy that comes with it. Will she be redeemed of her sins? Where's the line for monsters? However, all my hopes and expectations for this episode were ripped away from me when I saw how the very last scene played out. (If you know the scene I'm talking about you deserve compensation in every form). After Sam comes clean about Amy to Dean and is reasonably able to trust her, Dean goes behind Sam's back and kills Amy IN FRONT OF HER KID!!! Not trusting Sam's judgement and killing Amy is fine, that's really not the issue I have here. Just cause I don't agree with these course of actions doesn't mean it's out of the realm of possibility for Dean. But it comes out of nowhere and it seems like sort of a regression for Dean's character. There's so many questions being raised in my mind and the show fails to give any logical answers to why Dean would behave this way so suddenly. Also what really cements this as such a wild scene to me is him murdering her in front of her child and what he says this him. "Have you ever killed anyone? Well if you do, I'll come back for you." NO! My king would never do this!! At least not in this context, not this far into the series, and not to Sam. Did all this progress with his brother mean nothing? This is something I'd expect from a hallucination or leviathan version of Dean that I've seen so far. Yes, I'm able to try to jump through hoops to rationalize his actions here but I still can't shake the feeling that this was completely out of character. This isn't the only moment that screams mischaracterization. It's throughout the whole season and it happens to Sam too. Sam and Dean's motives go back in forth from caring to not at all. The brothers are facing such terrifying grief and agony this season and it's a crime that there a very little scenes of them actually being there for each other emotionally. I get it, their whole thing is to keep things from each other to protect one another. How heartwarming! But they are literally standing right next to each other and it feels like they're a million miles apart. That wouldn't necessarily be a bad thing, no, far from it. There have been moments that benefit from this that create great brotherly drama in the past. However, it's not utilized whatsoever here, it's just ignored really. When it comes to the conversation regarding Sam's weak mental state, losing Castiel, and mourning Bobby...well there's no conversation really. There's just this total disconnect here that goes as far as interfering with their hunting abilities. Yes they should have their fair loses and they are allowed to drag their feet on missions sometimes. Just not for almost the entire season. It felt like they were going through the motions for the most part. I need them to be emotionally invested within the story so I the viewer can be emotionally invested. Ugh, I miss how passionate they were about saving other people's lives and engaging with one another in a meaningful way.

On a positive note, I did enjoy the leviathans on my second watch and I didn't see that happening for me. On my first watch I think I just hated their association with this season in general. The black goo that represented the leviathans during the opening title screen kept reminding me that I was still stuck watching season 7. Which is such a shame cause I really missed out by being distracted by the other issues that plagued this season. The leviathan's attitude towards humans is actually really fascinating. They are able to see how unique humans are and appreciate them for their one of a kind abilities while also viewing them as lesser. Also George the unfortunate leviathan intern that was ready to eat his boss was a fun addition to diversifying the league of leviathans. Dick Roman was actually a pretty fun villain and I was afraid I wouldn't be able to take him seriously but Bobby's death proved to me that this guy should be taken seriously as a threat. Oh yeah Bobby oh Bobby. I thought bringing him back as a ghost was a poor choice at first because I believe when characters like Bobby, who have made such a significant impact in a series, should (respectfully) stay dead. Then you don't have to worry about diminishing their death or cheapening their emotional moments. Except I love Bobby so much that I will be willing to throw all of that away. In a show like Supernatural it's been proven that no one truly stays gone (unless you're Jessica) even as figments or ghosts. Of course now his ghost form is gone but I wouldn't be surprised if he shows up as a hallucination or in a dream sequence later on in the show.

I have to end this review here but overall there's so many plot points that happen this season that I didn't get to mention here. Most of them either end way too early, go nowhere, or are straight up unnecessary. I'll watch an episode and see an exciting opportunity for character exploration and I'll instead be met with credits. Sadly I was very pleased to end this season. Hopefully after sometime this season will just be a funny silly memory that I can laugh about cause the show magically turns around and proves me wrong!!!

[picnokinesis]

HI!!! sorry if this is out of the blue but I just read "disarmed" and OH MY GOD!!!!!!!!!!! I am going insane over it and I needed you to know!!!! I am really into blood and gore especially when it comes to thoschei (I would read about them destroying each other over and over again in any way really, especially in fucked up ways where they almost kill each other and kinda enjoy it), but somehow it's really difficult to find a good fic that is ACTUALLY that descriptive and visceral, and it's especially harder to find one that has no smut (I don't really like smut so it was amazing to find a fic that fits all my criteria). I was hooked from the first chapter and oh my god I don't usually read ffs and when I do I usually skip the ones with more than two chapters but I literally got recommended this one on here after I asked for specific recs and after reading the first chapter I was like oh my god this is insane and went through it all at once I even had dinner eating with my phone in my hand reading with eyes wide open 😭😭 aaaaaa. Also I am a sucker for spydoc with religious undertones and I always yap about wanting more fics that explore that so those lines here and there where the doctor is described as a god in the master's eyes were a really nice surprise (I am obsessed with them). And the doctor-laika parallels !!!!!!! insane !!!!!!!! And on top of this I LOVE temporal loops so what more could I want?????? this was a beautiful read and I'm gonna think about it for a while ....thank you for this...wow

Oh my days HI HELLO this is SO lovely AHH thank you so so much!!!!

Okay first off - real talk, I feel your pain EXACTLY. I'm a firm believer in people writing whatever they want, however I am sex-repulsed, and so genuinely just can't read smut. Thus, with any fandom I'm in, there's always a ton of fics that just are not for me. But on the other hand, I love whump, blood and gore - especially the sort you can get with spydoc, where the violence is intimacy and the intimacy is violence. But, as you said, it's really hard to find content in any context that explores darker adult themes, but also doesn't go into sexual territories too. I think the most obvious example of this is like, horror movies? So many horror movies have sex in them rip

BUT YEAH SO LIKE...if you're looking for that sort of fic, you have absolutely come to the right person oh my days, like that's PRECISELY my brand lmao. I am so honoured and utterly delighted that 1) someone recced by fics to you 2) you enjoyed disarmed this much like ahh!! Also, the fact that you read it whilst eating dinner is sending me, you're a brave soul hahaha, but ahhhhh <3 <3 <3 BUT YEAH it's about them being entangled in each other and hating it, about them trying to cut these threads tying them together and only ending up knotting themselves up tighter. The religious undertones thing gets me so much as well though, because it's like - the Master thinks that the timeless child stuff makes the Doctor like a god, even though it doesn't, it just makes her a child that was exploited, but HE sees her that way and it's really fun to play with that. I definitely used the line 'irreverent reverence' in a fic somewhere once, regarding how the Master looks at the Doctor, and that's the exact vibe. I think Disarmed in particular is my most rancid fic, mostly because I gave myself permission to go ham with it. It was a story that had been sitting in the back of my brain for years, and so actually making it happen was such a cool process - even though, at times, I lowkey hated it haha. Disarmed is like a feral cat that scratches your arm raw when you try and hold it hahah

Okay but if you want more fics, I can dig some up for you. I guess it depends on what you want? Unfortunately, the best example of "extremely visceral gore but no sex" spydoc that I can think of is not on ao3 anymore, and I made the mistake of not downloading it, but it's by river_of_words on ao3 and if it ever shows up again, I believe it's called 'the unusual hungers of theta and koschei' - and it is extremely rancid but also gorgeously written, and horrifying. That is easily the goriest one. There was also another one that weirdpug wrote for whumptober one year but that's also gone. However! I can rec you a few more that range from gory to heavy whump to general whump:

Fics by other people:

the art of dying by lupescx (where the Master keeps getting killed and the Doctor keeps reviving him)

my greatest escape is my biggest mistake by BlueLillyBlue (ft bloody swordfight between the Doctor and the Master)

what's life like bleeding on the floor? (currently on anon but this one only posted yesterday and it's FABULOUS)

Blood In The Waters by Val_Creative (the Master finds the Doctor dead in a rather horrific way)

As a rule: you should read everything by SleepyMaddy and empty_of_dust just in general because they both write fantastic spydoc. They don't really write gore as such, but they do write these two trying to destroy each other quite often, and definitely write blood and whump on occasion haha. To narrow down their whumpiest fics, off the top of my head you should check out:

i'm all yours (but you're all mine) - (ft the Doctor psychically torturing the Master)

swimming through mercury - (ft the Master having a pretty gnarly arm injury whilst fighting off the Cyberium)

these eyes are made of winter - (this is more psychic whump? It's excellent - divisioned!Doctor vs the Master)

it makes me who i am (i burned it all but i'm doing fine) - (again, psychic injury, but there is blood!)

and without you (is how i disappear) - (the Doctor threatens to cut up her and the Master's shared timeline)

And then, this one is more of a character study for the Master, but it's fantastic - the gardener by riptheh - and involves the Master doing a lot of murder, however it's not that explicit in terms of blood and stuff.

Fics by me:

Outside of Disarmed, by two goriest fics are definitely:

and i find you all unwoven - (aka the heart surgery one)

i'm the paper cut that kills you - (aka another timeloop one!)

There's also scalpel (the Doctor rescues the Master from black market surgeons, and is grumpy about it the whole time) which isn't gory as such but it does match the rancid vibes of Disarmed.

don't go (you're half of me now) - (ft the Doctor and the Master dying together because they mutually murdered each other)

your ex-lover remains dead (i'll kill who you hate) - not gory, but the Master and the Doctor do psychic surgery on each other whilst holding off their regenerations? I don't think this one ended up being that visceral at all, compared to Disarmed, but I do describe the psychic surgery like brain surgery, if that's of interest.

Translation Notes - not gory, but it does focus, again, on a psychic injury which I use a lot of visceral imagery to describe. Fundamentally though this one is about linguistics haha

And then there's also my zombie au but if you're not one for multi-chapters as a rule, and if you're not into AUs then this probably isn't the one for you, but I thought it'd mention it anyway! It's got a lot of violence and blood but actually this one is really more about trauma and virology than anything else lmao (but it is also 100% about the relationship between the Doctor and the Master, so...)

I can't think of anything else off the top of my head but hope this keeps you busy for a while! :D But thank you so much for this ask, this was SO lovely!! And definitely let me know if you find any other non-sexual bloodthirsty spydoc fics, or have any gore/whump related thoughts with regards to these two!!

[veren-cos]

Astarion x Reader (Bg3)

Gn reader with chronic pain

This one is pretty recent but lmk if I made any mistakes! Not proof read.

Astarion sauntered into the room after a successful night of hunting. He was hyper aware of everything from his latest feed, so the minute you made a move he noticed you were off.

And off you were, you looked like a wreck. You were in the same spot on the bed as when he left — hours ago. "Darling, are you alright?" There was concern in his voice.

You took the blanket and threw it over your face. Astarion's expression crinkled. He sat down next to where you lay, "My love, what's wrong?" He went to run his fingers through your hair but you pushed an arm out to nudge him away. He took a short pause, "I can't know what's wrong unless you speak to me."

You let out a groan, "I don't want to talk about it." There was a something in your voice that Astarion couldn't quite pinpoint.

"Then I won't make you, but please don't push me away."

You were a sucker for contact- holding hands, hugs, light kisses. Anything and everything he'd allow. He tried reaching his hand out again, and you let him.

"I'm sorry" it was barely above a whisper.

He hesitated a bit but his hand kept a steady pace on your head. "Whatever for? You haven't done anything wrong." He laughed a bit, "unless you were causing mischief without me today."

"I'm sorry you have to put up with me." You tighten your grip on the blanket covering your face, avoiding his. You just knew that he was going to look at you with pity. Pity? Anger maybe. Something serious, and you didn't want to deal with that. You felt bad enough, everything ached... Nothing was going right today.

"Put up with you?" Astarion was baffled, "Darling I look at you as pure perfection. You are who I desire to be with, the one who I will spend the rest of my days. How could I ever 'put up with you'?" He even does the quotes with his hands for dramatic flair, not that you could quite see it. "It is you in which my love knows no bounds. Nothing could keep me away from you, as long as you'll have me. I dont get why you cant just care for yourself a little more? You are certainly deserving of it."

This wasn't the response you thought you'd get at all. Your body shook, wanting to cry from the seering pain and his sentiment. "I am not deserving of this. Of any of your affection. I care for you. You are so. Perfect. And I am far from that. I hurt. Constantly. I know you know this, and that you don't mind. But I don't want this for you. You deserve someone who doesn't just curl up in bed all day the second something hurts a bit more than normal. You deserve someone who will... be there! I can't be there. Not all the time. I'm barely here for myself! I just sit here, ignoring everything my body is telling me because I refuse to get help! I refuse to get help from anyone. But i especially refuse to get help from you. Astarion, I can't handle the guilt."

You sit up, much regretting that choice, but doing it regardless to make a point. You took a dramatic breath, "Why cant i take care of myself, you ask? Because i dont care about myself! I loath every minute i spend in this body. Every day! And i cant fathom why you care about me."

He takes a moment, staring into your eyes as he contemplates what to respond. "Darling. My love. Is that what this is about?" You turn to look away but he took your face to make you look at him once again. "I know you are in pain. And I am here for you. I need you to know this. I dont care about anything else. I just want to be here for you. I know I can't take it away, believe me if I could, I would. But you need to tell me when this happens. If nothing else I can just whisper in your ear. Sweet little nothings to get you to sleep, hm?"

And that he did. Astarion laid you back down again, joining you under the covers. As much as you wanted to put up a fight, your body gave out on you. He was cold. He always was, but it felt nice against your skin. He pulled you into a loose hug, carefully avoiding places you flinched at. You reciprocated the gesture, wrapping your arms around his waist. He was working basically as a elven ice-pack, and you adjusted his hands to wherever the pain was. "Thank you."

"..."

"I'll try. I'll talk to you more." When you were done, he placed a kiss on your forehead as he nuzzled in.

"There is nothing to thank. It's what I'm here for. I love you." He let out an icy breath.

"I love you too."

He smiled, "Now go to sleep, you'll feel better in the morning. I promise. And we will lay right here until you do, I won't let you go."

[kdogreads]

Richie Jerimovich HCs that just have to come out of my brain include:

Mostly SFW but a pinch of steamy stuff bc of who I am as a person so MDNI 🤪🥵

He’s afraid to get married again

He thinks something about that paper and ring will make him slip back into his old ways and he’ll let you down just like he did Tiff. So you agreed early on that you wouldn’t get married.

Socially, you start using his last name after a couple of years. No one really questions you, either. Christmas cards are signed The Jerimovich Family; take out orders are usually placed under his last name; all of your socials have Jerimovich tacked on the end; when you inevitably have a baby or two, they take his last name and you use it too when they start school. Anyone who’s been around a while knows you aren’t married, but anyone new just assumed you are.

“Should you—do I call you my partner? Like, girlfriend sounds like we’re 16 or some shit. Maybe just my—my girl? Nah, that’s bad, too,” He stresses over the title, like it really matters all that much.

“Baby, it doesn’t matter to me,” You wrap your arms lovingly around his neck, “Pretty much everyone thinks I’m your wife anyway, so.”

“My pretty little pretend wife, huh? I like that.”

He wants more babies with you

Richie loves being a dad. He’s loved watching Eva thrive and every stage she grows into and out of, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t miss the squishy baby phase.

He’s a sucker for the cute onesies that say silly things or big teddy bear costumes they can toddle around in. He’s so attentive and preset and it makes you swoon.

“Hey Richie, I, uh, I was thinking about asking you something,” You start hesitantly, not sure where his mind will be on this, “And it’s totally fine if you say no or not yet or—“

“Out with it. You’re scarin’ me, baby,” He gently presses his warm palms to your cheeks, “What’s going’ on?”

“Well, just—what do you think about having a baby?” You speak as clearly as you can.

“A baby?” You can’t read his face and it makes your heart race.

You simply nod, holding in your anxiety. Before you can react, Richie scoops you up and throws you over his shoulder.

“Richie! What are you doing?” You screech, playfully swatting at his toned back.

“I’m putting a baby in you right now, sweetheart,” He smacks your behind sharply.

You do talk it over a little bit before you really start trying, but it is entirely possible that Richie did put a baby in your just then.

He’s so much more romantic than you thought he’d be

He’ll get you flowers on a random Tuesday because “They made me think of you, baby.”

And surprise with a delicious homemade dinner when he is somehow able to get home before you.

Or taking you to a cool new spot on his rare night off, having been invited by a local friend to try their new menu. He’s the classic, sticky sweet date that opens your car door for you and helps you with your coat and pulls out your chair for you to sit. Swoon.

If you have a little one, he’ll happily wear them strapped to his chest while you wonder through Target or a farmer’s market or museum. Dad Richie is the gooiest sweet partner, comfortably calming a crying baby or keeping them entertained so you can eat your meal or talk to friends.

He compliments you on everything

Like when you do the laundry he’ll say, “Damn, baby! How do you always fold my shirts so perfect?”

Or when you clean the house while he’s at work, “You keep a beautiful home, sweetheart. Can’t believe you let a dog like me in here.”

He kinda likes traditional gender roles (like you cleaning and cooking while he’s at work), but only so that he can brag about how good you are to him. Someone will compliment his suit and he’ll say, “My girl keeps me well-dressed.”

Or posting a cozy picture of the two of you to his 36 Instagram followers with the caption, “Before she got here this place was just an apartment but now it’s our home. Love you baby! #bigfanofher”

He loves how comfortable you are with Eva

Dating when you’re a parent can be nerve-wracking, but Richie knew right away you’d be an amazing person to be around his baby. You’ve never treated her like a step-child, but loved her like your own from the moment you met.

He gets so emotional when he sees you interacting with her so sweetly, like when Eva needs help with homework or asks you to help her with her hair. He’s just obsessed with his girls 🥹

This man gives and gives

He’s such a giver in all aspects of his life: carrying in all the groceries, starting the coffee in the morning, brushing the snow off your car so you don’t have to.

As far as the sex goes, this man loves making you squirm and whine below him, buries his face in you whenever he can, and pulls orgasms out of you like there’s no tomorrow, leaving you a whining, whimpering mess by the time he’s done 🥵

Sweet Richie just loves loving you and giving you everything he can 🫶❤️

[cloudiewrites]

Zoro dating headcanons? Maybe where they are sorta ljke the grumpy x sunshine duo?

OPLA! Zoro Dating Headcanons

Author's note: I love this request so much, I am such a sucker for the grumpy x sunshine trope! x Hope you enjoy! credit to the artwork below: "The Art of Thor: Love and Thunder"

When you and Zoro first got together, it was a surprise for everyone.

Sure, you had a crush on him since the moment you joined the crew and you have always been open about your feelings, but nobody expected for Zoro to return them back... at least not so soon.

Zoro has always been quiet and stoic man, who valued discipline, strength and peace. He is always trying his best to stay out of trouble, despite this being a nearly impossible mission with having Luffy as captain.

You, on the other hand, are loud, energetic and always causing chaos. Your curiosity and unfiltered mouth often get you in dangerous situations, from which the swordman has to get you out of.

Despite finding your reckless behaviour annoying at first, it did became the reason he fell for you. Maybe because it felt good to be your knight in shining armour who was always there to save the day or maybe because following you in your adventures made him feel as if he can see the world in a new light through your eyes... It was unclear how and why it happened, but when he fell in love, he fell hard.

Zoro is extremely protective. Maybe a little bit overbearing at times. He knows you have tendency to act before you think and your close friendship with Luffy, who was full of bad ideas, was just another reason why he always felt he had to keep an eye on you.

Despite this he is not big fan of PDA. He will stay close to you, maybe even touch your shoulder or back when no one is looking, but he won't be very affectionate, especially when they are people around.

That, of course, does not stop you from seeking to be close to him every chance you get. Jumping on his back, wrapping your arms around his neck, pepping his whole face with kisses, while he groans in annoyance, holding his hand - every time you are near him, you have to be touching him.

He likes to pretend he is irritated with your antics, but he secretly loves having you so close to him. That's why he also never pushes you away.

He is not a big sharer, but he is a good listener. He can listen to you talk for hours (which given your chatty personality is not a hard task). When you decide to ask him questions, though, expect one or two worded answers.

With that being said, you need to be patient with him. I imagine you would have some experience with love and previous relationship, but this is all new to him. Every emotion, every thought, every desire is new and he is still figuring it out how to deal with it all.

He does find comfort in the fact that you are very open and honest person. Whatever you think, you say without even processing it first. He finds this comforting, as he never has to wonder what you think or how you feel.

Your honesty does sometimes put him in uncomfortable positions though... "Damn, Zoro, you are looking so fine with these swords! I wonder if you want to show me the fourth sword in private later-" "Y/N, please, we are literally in the middle of a fight."

He does get easily embarrassed and you DO enjoy making him embarrassed. Either calling him cute nicknames or making flirty comments, you know the way to make this man's face redder than a tomato.

Despite your differences, this man would literally die for you. Everything with you is new to him and while it may sound cheesy, you do make him a better man. With you, he is exploring a softer, more gentler side, that he never even knew was there.

[serendipityandbenevolence]

Baizhu x Reader (Arranged Marriage)

I know this is a bit (lot) different to what I normally post on this account, but I am a SUCKER for arranged marriages in fanfic, so I am choosing to disregard my sagau roots (not permanently dw) It’s a bit out of my comfort zone, but I really hope it comes out well :)

Contains - You getting injured, you and baizhu having beef (enemies to lovers fr), you and baizhu not realising that you are engaged to each other, arranged marriage (duh) your dad kinda sucks tbh

It took you rolling your ankle to realise how bad an idea climbing a mountain unprepared was. Granted, when you had started climbing the mountain, you had thought you were prepared. Your clothing was (somewhat) practical, you had stolen a pair of your father’s shoes that he used when hiking and you had found a nice leather satchel to hold your snacks and hand shovel. 

It had been fine at first, nothing more than a pleasant hike, with bird chirping and a soft breeze whistling through the trees. But with every step you took, the path became steeper, the sun became hotter and the god-damned shoes you bothered from your father hurt more. They had seemed a bit large when you first put them on, but now it felt like you were going to trip over them with every step. 

Your clothes weren’t faring much better. Your good, practical clothing had caught on nearly every single branch and shrub you passed. You would have to hide them when you got home, because you did not want to have to explain to your parents exactly how your clothing got so tattered and torn. The only things that hadn’t let you down was the satchel and your snacks, although the snacks were long gone now, despite not even reaching the top of the mountain.

Looking back on the moment, it seemed almost like one of those comedy performances, that wandering artisans performed in the town square. It was ironic, truly, how quickly everything fell apart. A single stone in your path, that you hadn’t even noticed until you were stepping on it. Your father’s shoes skidded off it, causing your ankle to twist painfully and send you careening into a nearby bush, your shirt tearing even more as the branches scraped your skin. 

And there you lay, facedown in a bush in the middle of nowhere, close to the peak of a nearly abandoned mountain trail, with nothing but a satchel and a sprained ankle. 

All of this for a fucking flower.

It was silly, you were aware of that. Your mother had told you stories about a kind of flower that only grew on this particular mountain, whose petals formed a distinctive heart shape, and which was said to bless whoever received one with true love. It was cheesy, yes, but that didn’t stop many young men and women from climbing the mountain in order to pick them for their fiances. But as the years passed, the flowers became more and more sparse, thanks to the droves of hopeless romantics picking them all. And now, they are said to only be found at the very top of the mountain, where the lovers were too scared to climb.

You didn’t even know if Baizhu liked flowers. 

You’d never met him, which was surprising considering how long he’d been a client of your father. Your father, a renowned supplier of medicinal herbs, was thrilled when Baizhu first began working with him. Prior to that, all his business had been to local doctors and healers, but having a client in far-away Liyue Harbor excited him, especially a doctor of such a stellar reputation. 

You almost felt like you did know him, with how much your father talked about Baizhu. Every shipment of goods that was requested meant another long monologue over the dining table about how fortunate he was to have such a consistent and well-paying client. You almost asked your father if HE wanted to marry Dr Baizhu, but you thankfully refrained. 

You knew your father had been dropping hints to Baizhu for a while now, about how he hoped his child would be married soon, about how Baizhu surely must be so lonely without a spouse, about how Baizhu really just felt like he was part of the family already. What you hadn’t expected was for Baizhu to accept.

And now, here you were, a week out from your wedding and nearly passed out on the side of a road, trying to get that god-damned flower. 

There was no way that the situation could get any worse.

“Oh dear! Are you alright?”

Or maybe it could. 

You truly had the worst luck. How was it that during the most embarrassing moment of your life, a person had to appear? This was an abandoned trail! 

“Please … just leave me here. I’m already contemplating my life choices and regretting the actions I’ve taken to get here, my pride can’t take another hit.”

“I really… can’t just leave you here, you know that, right?” The voice, which you could now identify as male, sounded like it was trying to hold back laughter, while also truly sounding concerned.

“I assure you, you can. Please do. Keep continuing on your way.”

There was silence for a moment, and you almost allowed yourself to hope that whoever this man was had left, until you felt a pair of hands grab your shoulders and pull you out of the bush, depositing you in a rather undignified heap on the ground.  

“My sincerest apologies about your pride. Are you injured?”

You sighed and made your best effort to fix your hair, attempting to look less like you just fell into a bush. Your saviour had the audacity to look perfectly put together, with barely a hair out of place, despite having just hiked the same distance as you. Though he also looked far more prepared, with shoes that actually fit and an entire bag filled with supplies.

“Only the aforementioned pride and my ankle,” You sighed, looking down at the already bruised and swollen skin, then up at the nearly vertical path ahead of you.

“I truly hope you don’t plan on continuing to climb with that ankle of yours?” He questioned, squatting down to get a better view at your injury, laying a gentle hand upon it.

You chose to ignore the question, still hoping to find a way to get to the top of the mountain, instead taking the opportunity to stare at the man. He had the most intriguing golden eyes, with slitted pupils like a snake, which were sharply fixed on your ankle.

“Your lack of a response speaks wonders, so let me rephrase. You will not be continuing to climb with that ankle of yours.” His eyes met yours, looking for any argument.

“And how do you plan to stop me?”

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

For a man who initially seemed so polite, he sure had a way of getting on your nerves. You’d spent the first 10 minutes of him carrying you back down the mountain (over his shoulder!) trying to convince him to put you down and when that hadn’t worked, you’d settled on silent treatment. But even that was testing your patience, you’d become tired of watching the sun creep towards the horizon, of listening to the birds singing up above, of resisting the urge to ask him what hair products he used to make his hair so silky.

“So…”

“Oh, you want to make conversation now? Finally given up on ignoring me?” He laughed at you, making you grit your teeth.

“Alright, I get it! You’re acting in my best interests by not letting me continue climbing the mountain, you don’t have to act all high and mighty about it!” You cut your angry tirade off with an annoyed huff, turning your face away from him.

“Why were you even climbing up there to begin with? It’s certainly not a beginners trail.”

“Oh, uhm, you know…”

“I certainly don’t know, which is why I’m asking you, but I appreciate the faith you have in thinking I can read your mind.”

You smacked his shoulder once, then a second time when you noticed he was laughing.

“But seriously… why?” He turned to face you, eyes searching your face for some sort of answer, before sighing and turning back towards the path.

You were silent for a long moment before remembering that this man had seen you half-knocked out in a bush on the side of a road. Your dignity was long gone.

“Don’t mock me for it, but I was going to try and find one of those flowers…”

“The True Love’s Bloom?”

“Yes and don’t you dare make fun of me for this, I get married in a week and I’m emotionally sensitive.”

“I wouldn’t dream of hurting your feelings and anyway, that’s what I was looking for as well.“ 

It took you a moment for it to sink it, before you turned to look at him.

“Really? I didn’t take you for the romantic type. Which poor soul got roped into marrying you?”

“I could say the same to you. Here I was, being nice to you and you repay it by insulting me? I’ll have you know, I was the one who got roped in. I think I would’ve had assassins sent after me if I refused one more time.”

You laughed and turned back around, but as you did, a small alcove in the nearby rock caught your eye. It was becoming darker by the second, but even with the fading light you could make out the shape of…

“Over there!”

The man paused and gave a sigh.

“This better not be a ploy to get me to put you down, so that you can do something potentially life endangering again.”

“The flowers! Over there!”

He turned his head and gave a small laugh of surprise as he spotted them too.

“Well, what do you know? Maybe being forced to carry you back down this hill was a blessing in disguise?” He wandered over to the sheltered patch of dirt, where, hidden from most prying eyes, were two perfect flowers.

He placed you down next to them and began rummaging through his bag, pulling out two shovels.

“I’ll have you know that I actually brought a shovel, I don’t need your equipment!”

“Really, how surprising. Did you bring a pot as well?”

“...”

“...”

“... can I borrow one of yours?”

“Well, I’ll have YOU know…”

And as your bickering echoed across the mountaintop, bringing life to the abandoned trails of a once vibrant mountain, the flowers almost seemed to grow just a little bit more.

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

“Baizhu, what’s that flower sitting over by the window? I’ve never seen anything like it before?”

“Ah Traveler, you have a good eye! It’s called True Love’s Bloom. However, those are actually two flowers. My spouse and I planted them in the same pot when we got married all those years ago and they have grown together over time, becoming so intertwined we can’t separate them. I like to keep them close to me at work, to remind me of my dearest.”

“Your spouse? I didn’t know you were married!”

“You didn’t? I could’ve sworn I had mentioned it? Well then, I shall have to tell you the story of how we met. It all started with them stupidly trying to climb a mountain…”

Guys, this was so much longer than I intended wtf. This was supposed to be a SHORT STORY to go with two other arranged marriage stories. I seriously need to throw my plans out the window at this point. Anyway, I love writing sassy characters, even though im shit at banter, so hopefully this is good/funny?

[precioustarkey]

journalism at its finest: part two

link to part one is here, read it first!

summary: after getting a surprise phone call from drew, you are eager to finally go on your first date.

warnings: none

the next couple of weeks were met with sparse texts asking what our plans were for the day, when we would be off, what city he was going to next, etc. part of me had lost hope that we would get the chance to see each other. we were just so busy. 

my anxiety has since worn off. i realized through our short conversations that no matter how much he changed, he is still the same humble kid he was in high school. we have both grown so much, and though our careers are on opposite ends, i feel as if we can relate to each other. 

eventually, i decided to put my feelings aside and come to terms with the fact that drew will most likely remain a memory. soon after, my phone starts to ring. assuming it's a work call, as it usually is, i quickly answer. 

"good morning," i say into the phone, awaiting a reply. "good morning, uhm.. i know this is a little out of the blue and maybe not the best time, but are you busy today?" my eyebrows furrow, my mind racing, i pull my phone back to look at the contact name. drew starkey.

"if you consider pacing my apartment busy, then terribly." i can't help but cringe at myself. a light laugh comes from the other end of the phone: "well then, if you send me your address, i'll pick you up in around thirty minutes. dress casual."

i can feel the heat in my cheeks already. skeptical, i reply, "whatever you say, starkey." his smile is almost audible as he says, "i'll take it. see you then." 

quickly, i send a text to drew containing my address. almost immediately after i put my closet in shambles. the second i decide what to wear, i brush through my hair and freshen my face. 

my phone dings next to me as i am sliding into my shoes. it's a text that reads, "i think i'm outside." perfect timing. i grab my essentials and dart out of the door. 

sure enough, when i make it to the street, i see a very conufsed-looking drew sitting in his vehicle. our gazes meet, and we can't help but laugh. he quickly jumps out of the car to help me into the passenger's seat. 

"you didn't have to do that," i say as he gets back into his own seat. "i wanted to," he replies grinning, fastening his seatbelt. 

"now do i get to find out where you're taking me?" i ask as convincingly as possible. "absolutely not. sit tight," he winks. i can't help but roll my eyes, though we both know i couldn't be more excited.

the ride is filled with laughter and singing. i feel like a kid again, a teenager giddy over absolutely everything. it feels like no time before we're pulling into what looked like a field. i look over suspiciously. "stay right there," he says as he exits the car. 

i watch as he fishes something out of the trunk before making his way to my side of the car, opening the door with his cheesy grin still shining. i follow him around the car to see a blanket and basket. 

"how did you know i'm a sucker for cliches?" i ask, unable to contain my own grin. "hey, i've looked at your instagram a few times," he replies, holding up his hands for dramatics. my heart races at the thought of him looking over my social media.

we eagerly spread out the blanket and started laying snacks everywhere. i could tell he put a lot of effort into this, and wondered what he would have done if i had really been busy today. 

before we knew it, the sun began setting. we spent hours talking, laughing, and really getting to know each other. as we watched the sun set and the stars rise, i realized that i really dreaded going home. i hadn't had this much fun with someone in so long, and it was so refreshing. 

after minutes spent in comfortable silence, i spoke first, my voice coming out as nearly a whisper: "drew?' i kept my head toward the sky, but i could see out of the corner of my eye that his head turned to me. "i know it's a little soon, but will you come back to my apartment with me?'

finally, i looked at him. i was trying hard to keep a straight face, but his smile is contagious. "can we get ready for work together in the morning?" he's smirking now. "only if you're not treating your other interviewers like this," i shot back. 

laughing, he says, "don't worry y/n, you're like no other." making his way to his feet, he holds out a hand to help me up. as we clean up our mess and make our way back to his car, i feel an overwhelming sense of contentment. 

maybe i lied when i said i'd have it done quickly :/