#if only he never beat thomas downes

[delusiontowns]

watching Arthur's handwriting get messier as time goes on hurts me more than anything.

usual handwriting

and then towards the end of chapter 6...

never fails to make my heart shatter

[catboybiologist]

Today I just found out that the woman who's been the most supportive of me in my transition believes that trans women shouldn't be able to compete against cis women in sports. Do you happen to have any good peer reviewed resources on the effects of estrogenizing HRT on someone's athletic abilities. Said woman in question doesn't seem to believe there's been any research done, which I deeply doubt. Thank you so much for your continued advocacy for us transfems.

I know you're turning to me for scientific guidance, but I'm just so fucking done with this issue overall. To quote contrapoints: I have nothing left but rage.

I've been on this road before. I could give you some. In most ways, trans women match cis women of their height and weight. But there aren't a lot. Yeah, its a problem. But fucking NOBODY will even study it because of how hot this issue is right now.

But more importantly: There will never, EVER be a study that meets their standards. There's always SOME physical metric that has differences between trans women and cis women. It's become essentially an iteration of the multiple testing problem- if you keep on doing statistical tests, eventually something is going to land.

I don't fucking want to provide studies. I don't want to cut myself down. I don't want my defense of myself to be "oohhh look at me I'm just as weak and pathetic and infantile as cis women"

Is this fucking feminism? Really?

I'm fucking done. Call me the evil hysterical woman, but this entire conversation reeks of misogyny to its fucking core. Organized sports as we know them are made by men, for men, to celebrate male accomplishments and excellence. Cis women can and do equal or excel men in many, MANY physical metrics. But the arbitrary set of rules, the arbitrary set of bouncing balls and scoring systems, are all made to reward the physical abilities of men. We create spin offs and systems of score tracking and variations of the same things over, and over, and over again, to give the fragile little male ego more and more reasons to stroke itself.

Let's take a look at some whiny as piss men not being able to handle the thought that women could EVER be physically notable.

Olympic target shooting used to be mixed gender. A woman won one year. The next year, it was segregated. Not only was it segregated, but the scoring system changed so that the scores of men and women could never be directly compared again.

Last year, Donald Trump sat on stage with Riley Gaines, the transphobic swimmer who whipped up the vitriol about Lia Thomas, and bragged about how it wasn't fair she lost her competition because he, Donald Trump, a 78 year old out of shape wax sculpture of a man, was male. And that he could beat Riley. A trained D1 swimmer. And Riley took it, because it advanced her grift.

There's a now infamous poll that 1 in 8 men think they could beat Serena Williams in a tennis match. Its pretty old at this point, but I'm guessing that number is even higher now.

This entire conversation centers around "trans people crushing the dreams of female athletes" but oh my fucking god, are we not doing that as a society already? This entire fucking "debate" is just an excuse for more and more cis men to sit their, stroking their fucking egos on live television about how big and strong and powerful and fucking WHATEVER men are, and even the trace of maleness in trans women is enough to permanently make them some kind of ubermensch that destroys cis women by every metric imagineable.

I don't give two shits about saving sports, one way or another. I detested organized sports long before I transitioned. Ya wanna talk natural advantage, and how sports rewards exactly the kind of physical ability that a certain brand of cis man pushes themselves to? I have a very mild ankle deformity that means jogging for long periods of time is painful. My best mile time is over 11 minutes. And yet I don't see any of the fuckers that are "better" than me out there in the ocean, clinging to the bottom on a single breath for minutes, or up there with me on top of Whitney. Only one of those skills is celebrated.

Fuck me that was a tangent. My point is, I've long since realized that sports are a self propagating system for the egos of people with a very particular kind of physical prowess. The only exception to this is when its exploitative of people with that kind of extremely specific physical prowess, and leaves those it exploits in the fucking gutter. I don't need to start bringing up CTE, I know y'all know exactly what my take would be on that.

but what is sending me over the fucking edge is how I'm supposed to be the crazy one. I'm the delusional tranny for pointing out that we have lost the fucking plot entirely. This is recreation. Its entertainment. And we are using it to punish people. Fuck this.

I'm so sorry OP, but just don't engage in that game. If you need a calm, measured argument, try attacking the misogyny of it all. The only way to "fix" sports is to create more events that reward and celebrate the physical abilities of cis women: flexibility, extreme long term endurance, and fuck I'm not a sports person nor do I want to waste brainspace on more than that. We need a system for cis women, one that doesn't tell them "here, have this shittier, less viewed, less supported, less encouraged, less celebrated version of something a man is good at". Trans people would find some place in that and in theory, there would be nothing to complain about.

Jesus fucking christ, if I see one more male news pundit start talking about trans women in sports I'm going to straight up devolve into a misandrist.

[nikkeora]

jason todd puts flowers on his own grave.

it wa curiosity at first. after he'd spent a while at the league and mellowed out, formed a proper plan besides simply burning wayne manor to the ground, he wondered what his grave would say. they'd told him there had been a funeral, after all. probably closed casket, with an altered death certificate saying he'd died in a car crash or something. not like bruce could face the truth if it beat him with a crowbar.

beloved son? a generic lie.

loving brother? much the same.

something bitter rises in his throat as his feet hit worn, damp stone. the streets aren't familiar anymore.. even crime alley has changed - there must've been a turf war or something, because those goons following him most definitely aren't black mask's usual pick. then again, maybe old roman's changed, too.

he sighs in frustration when he meets a dead end. gone for just how many years and they brick up an entire street? ridiculous. he hears the telltale sign of weapons being drawn behind him before he turns around with his own.

gone but not forgotten? they'd moved on fine without him. everyone had.

he stashes their bodies behind some dumpsters and moves quick. he's not in much of a mood for a fight right now. he isn't in a mood to do much of anything; there's a strange sense of melancholy in his chest.

he makes it the rest of the way to gotham's main cemetery without another incident. it's relatively easy to find his place there. thomas and martha wayne have a large tree next to their joint grave, and he just assumed he'd be somewhere near them. he's a little surprised to see his headstone right on their left. that spot used to be saved for bruce.

tentatively, he reads the inscription.

jason todd.

...

he shouldn't be surprised, really, what else did he expect? he wasn't in any of their lives for long, they barely knew him. he thought he knew them, he was wrong. they didn't care. the only thing they wanted to remember about him was his name, birth and death date, he doesn't doubt they would've had a blank headstone if they could, hell, maybe there wouldn't even have been a funeral if he hadn't existed in the public eye, he might as well have been buried in an unmarked, shallow grave next to that goddamn warehouse-

a drop of rain tears him out of his spiral.

...inhale...

...exhale.

maybe he'd hoped they cared.

that little boy who died that night deserved to have someone that cared.

...because that boy had cared so, so much.

come next morning, he's gotten himself a shitty apartment in crime alley and there's a small bouquet of flowers in his hand as he visits his grave for the second time. there's none already there, not even wilted ones. but as he crouches down to give himself what he believes to be the first flowers that boy has ever gotten, something in the grass glitters, catching his eye.

his first thought is a used needle, but as he looks a little closer, he realizes it's a little bracelet.

it's a little rusty and definitely made for a kid. the chain is cheap and a bit chunky. but the charm, a tiny, half heart meant to be a matching set to another bff bracelet, brings back a flood of memories.

he knew he'd forgotten a couple things when he'd come back. most of it was unimportant stuff. there's a jane austen book he doesn't recall reading? great, he gets to experience it for the first time again. his favorite color? well, he knows it's not green for sure, and that's really the only thing he needs to know. which floor his room was in the manor? he was never going to go back, anyway.

but how could he ever have forgotten you?

that tiny bracelet, tucked away from prying eyes and grubby hands in the taller grass near his headstone and meant for a boy he no longer was, said that someone had cared. enough to visit him. enough to leave something he would have wanted to take with him.

and maybe, just maybe, if he keeps coming back... he'll see you again one day.

so jason todd puts flowers on his own grave. every week, every day. same time, same place.

for that boy who had cared, and his friend who missed him.

and one day, a little while after his grand plan had gone to shit, there are flowers in his hand again. he doesn't get to place them on his grave, though. when he spots someone standing there - different clothes, different hair, but the same eyes that had been his first love all those years ago… it’s like seeing you for the first time all over again.

those flowers are for you now.

[ilovetoxicfictionalmen]

WHIPPED

Pairing - Tommy Shelby x fem!reader

Summary - You strain from your husband who will not give you attention. He doesn't like that.

Warnings - NONCON, domestic violence, dub con, manipulative, belt whipping, spanking, tommy is mean, degrading words, breeding kink.

Word count - 3k+

Notes - You voted, you received.

Something in Tommy’s intellect changed overnight. Every once in a while, his mind would travel back in time to the war. But now, when he awoke from his nightmares, he still felt like he was crawling through the tunnels. The hairs on the back of his neck stuck up more frequently, his hand rested on his gun a lot. Feeling too skeptical that he’d need to fire it at any second. 

It had impacted your newly wedded marriage, but you didn’t dare to say anything to him. You showed you cared by holding him a little tighter at night. Whilst he laid on the bed like a stone figure, staring up into the ceiling as he refused to fall asleep. 

The sex had turned emotionless like flowers dying without water. The intimacy was dead. It made you down in the mouth and filled your heart with despair. You only wanted to kiss him, talk to him, be held by him. But he had forgotten who you were. 

Over the weeks, your sadness turned into anger. You refused to be upset by his neglect any longer. So, you found other ways to find pleasure in your life and quickly realized that the only way to get your husband’s attention was jealousy. It frustrated Tommy when you started to ignore his presence, venture out without informing him and associating with his family more than him. Tommy would lecture you, wagging his finger at you. You’d only simply nod your head, awaiting for it to be over. Then it would repeat all over again. But Tommy’s mind was too caught up in his business to find the time to truly teach you a lesson. 

Until now, the surprisingly last straw was Arthur whispering something into your ear, resulting in you playfully slapping his shoulder and giggling like a teenager. Tommy’s head snapped to you two, everyone in the reading room still watching Tommy as he awaited for you to acknowledge him. 

After a pause, you finally looked up to Tommy and the stare off commenced. Your eyebrows were furrowed as Tommy’s eyes twitched, he knew you had never been unfaithful. But his mind was now racing with thoughts of the possibility occurring if he didn’t put a stop to his behavior.  

“Well, we will have a break. It seems that my wife has forgotten her manners and I must reteach them…” Tommy declared confidently as he lit another cigarette between his cold lips. 

All heads snapped towards you and Arthur’s face turned beet red. 

“Thomas” you sighed as you pressed your hand to your forehead, cheeks turning a shade darker from embarrassment. 

Any other time, Tommy adored it when you called him by his full name. But this time, he felt as if you were challenging him, trying to humiliate him in front of his family. Tommy took three large strides towards the door and motioned for you to exit in an exaggerated manner. When you merely continued to stare back at him dully he snapped. 

“Get the fuck up!” Tommy raised his voice, causing everyone in the room to flinch. 

Tommy’s eyes were strained, a vein popped out of his forehead as his hands formed to fists. 

“Tommy” Arthur protested, leaning forward in his seat. 

Arthur was always so loyal to Tommy, but grew to be highly protective of you. He was prepared to cop the fire instead, take a beating if he had to. It was his doings anyways, not yours. 

“It’s alright Arthur” you soothed his guilty look, looking confident even though your heart was pounding in shock at your husband’s outburst. 

Tommy saw red when you reassuringly pressed your hand to his chest. Without waiting any longer he marched towards you. You jumped up from your seat before he could yank you up. But he still latched onto your bicep and pulled you out of the room with no care as you winced from his hold. 

“Tommy… You’re hurting me!” You cried as he pulled you up the stairs. 

There was no answer from him. Only the sounds of grunts through his hard expression as he led you to the bedroom. Shoving you into the room, Tommy slammed the door shut and stomped around in circles, his hand tugging at his roots as he heard the shouts and cries of his fallen fellow soldiers. Your arms crossed over your chest, a frustrated expression set on your face by glue. 

“Thomas you’re being dramatic” you pointed out, shaking your head at his behavior. The embarrassment had drenched you completely, he was too furious to notice how awful he had made the situation. 

Tommy’s head shot towards you and he glared at you. 

“Pardon? You parading yourself around my brother in front of my entire family is nothing more than me being dramatic!” Tommy roared as he marched towards you. “Why don’t you fucking respect me!” Tommy yelled, his pale skin now red as he grabbed onto your shoulders in a warning touch. 

His anger spattered onto you as you felt your chest tighten, you scoffed at his words, not intimidated by his hold on you. “Oh calm down Thomas!” You hissed at your husband. 

You fell to the fall before the pain even shot from your cheek. Before the redness even grew on your timid skin. You choked out in shock as you raised your hand to the burning sensation on your cheek. The back of Tommy's hand was still positioned in the air from where he hit you. Tommy had never hit you before, he had vowed to never do it. 

“Don’t tell me to fucking calm down” Tommy growled.

Swiftly, he bent down to yank you back up to your feet. When you struggled against his hold and tried to smack him away he hit you again with the front of his hand this time. Then he hit the other cheek just as hard. You screamed out in fear but his hand was swift to smack over your mouth. 

“Who do you fucking think you are? Huh! You wear my name! You’re in my house!” Tommy lectured, shaking you around like a ragdoll before he shoved you back to the ground. 

Tommy went back to walking around in circles, his hand roughly massaged his chin as he wondered what to do with you. His disobedient wife. You laid on the floor, frozen in fear as you stared at his polished shoes twirling around the room. With your hands pressed against your stinging cheeks, tears shedded from your aching eyes. Your sobs were silent and rough. 

A heavy sigh left his lips as he looked down to you. Slowly, he undid his belt and slipped it out of the loops of his pants and folded it in half. Tommy fell back onto the brown leather armchair in the corner of the room and lightly slapped his belt against his knee. 

“Come here, lay over my knee my darling…” Tommy spoke in a soothing voice, but had a wicked grin on his lips. 

You looked up at him with fearful eyes, then your stare was stuck on his belt slapping against his pants. Knowing his intentions, you whimpered out pathetically and shook your head against the floor. 

“N-no” you objected weakly. 

“It wasn’t an offer” Tommy grunted, he leaned towards you, the grip on the leather tightened. “Do it before I show you how strong my foot is” Tommy warned, tapping his foot impatiently.

It took you a moment to get up, you were too busy having a little silent breakdown as you whined at his response. The smirk on his lips grew larger as he watched you gradually crawl towards him, wincing to yourself as you climbed up onto his lap and laid stiff on top of him. 

Tommy sighed as he pulled up your dress, his hand rubbed your ass briefly before he yanked down your panties to your knees. The leather brushed over your backside and you gripped onto his leg in fear as you sobbed quietly. 

“You seemed to have mistaken my kindness for weakness, my darling. I have no problem with showing you my ruthlessness, the many tales you heard of me before we had even met” Tommy explained as he dragged the belt all over your skin. 

“You’re scaring me Tommy” you sniffled out. 

The inside of your throat felt swollen and your chest ached. A harsh slap with the belt landed on your rear. It caused your panicky yelp to echo throughout the room. When you tried to impulsively wiggle yourself off of him he smacked you again with the leather. 

“You’ve lost your privileges to address me by my first name, correct yourself right now!” Tommy ordered, his hold on his belt tight as his free hand went around your back to keep you trapped. 

“Tom-uh Mr Shelby?” You answered unsurely, your expression wincing as your shoulders raised. 

“Good girl!” Tommy praised as the belt smacked against your rear again. 

You chortled out as he continued on with your punishment. Quickly, you lost count with how many times he hit you as he flicked his wrist in a haphazardly manner. Sometimes he’d focus purely on one cheek. Or do slow and heavy smacks across every inch of your skin. Then he’d do quick stings across your rear. 

“Please stop!” you begged, your voice dry and weak, your mouth pressed against his knee as you tried to muffle out your cries. 

“Aw, my darling can’t take it anymore eh?” Tommy chuckled. 

He dropped the belt onto your back and rubbed your tender backside with his bare hand roughly. 

“Please I love you Tommy!” you exhorted, desperately hoping this would ease his suspicions. 

The screech was piercing when he smacked your bruised skin wickedly with his palm. 

“Correct yourself, whore” Tommy spat. 

‘Ah! I love you Mr Shelby” you sobbed out. 

Your head fell back down to his knee, your teeth bit into his leg to silence yourself but he didn't mind. Surprisingly, the pain felt nice to him. 

“That’s a good girl…” Tommy grinned, rubbing your ass again roughly as if he was praising you. “I’m going to beat your ass beyond breaking point. Then I’ll know you’ve learnt your lesson” Tommy addressed. 

“No Mr Shelby please! I understand!” You protested as you squirmed over him. Tommy was quick to hold you on top of him as you tried to swing your body onto the floor. “Please forgive me! I won’t do it again!” You pleaded as you tried to blink back your tears.   

“Stay still before I hit you with the buckle!” Tommy threatened, his words hissing like a viper. 

You mewled out, but listened to his demand. Tommy picked up his belt again and proceeded to whip you with it. 

When your cries had died down and you laid still on him, Tommy dropped the belt to the ground and rubbed your black and blue rear. When his fingers rubbed against your slit, he grinned to himself as he brought them into his sight. They glistered in your fluid and he sucked his fingers clean, moaning to himself at your sweet taste. 

“Seems like I wasn’t the only one that enjoyed this”' Tommy commented as his fingers returned to your cunt, fondling with your folds and teasing your nerves by randomly pushing in a digit. “Have you learnt your lesson?” Tommy cocked an eyebrow to you. 

As you tried to turn your head back towards him, you nodded to him. “Yes Mr Shelby” you spoke out breathlessly. 

“Which is?” He questioned. 

You choked on your words as you blinked back your tears. “To be a good wife to you!”

“Such a good wife…” Tommy soothed as he caressed your bruised ass. “Stand up and strip for your husband” he instructed as he leaned back into his seat. 

Through gritted teeth, you stood on your two feet and slowly stripped till you were completely nude in front of him. Your body shook like a leaf in the wind as you resisted not to cover yourself with your arms. Tommy sighed to himself as he looked your heated figure up and down, and then he pulled out his length and gradually stroked himself a couple of times. Not failing to express how aroused he was through his groans. 

“Come here and sit on my cock eh?” 

“Mr Shelby please” you begged weakly, eyes stinging with discomfort. 

Tommy leaned forward and pointed his finger to you. “Shut up before I change my mind, bend you over and fuck your ass” he warned, his pointed finger completely still. 

You nodded your head like a begging dog and practically ran over to Tommy despite the pain that shot through your rear. You straddled your husband, his hands were on your hips as he grinned up to you, his cock pressed against your inner thigh. 

“Who do you belong to?” Tommy asked as his length pushed into your throbbing, soaked entrance. 

“You Mr Shelby!” You answered through a groan as you slid down his shaft. 

“Good… No more talking to anyone, at all, without my permission eh?” Tommy commanded with a resolute nod. All you could do was nod back as he rocked his hips against yours, his fingernails dug into your flesh as your walls squeezed his size. 

“Mr Shelby” you whined out. 

“You’re mine” Tommy growled animalistically as he leant in to bite your neck. “Only fucking mine. You wanted my attention? You fucking got it” he grunted as he rutted himself deep inside of you. 

Your eyes rolled back as you held onto your husband tightly as he drew blood from your neck. The pain dissolved as the pleasure quickly built up inside of your core. Your mouth had fallen open as you were moaning out shamelessly, Tommy slapped your ass and you squealed. 

“You’re clenching around me so tightly darling, you want to milk me empty eh? Get yourself pregnant?” Tommy asked, his own breathing heavy as he pounded himself into you. 

“Yes Mr Shelby!”

“Keep on squeezing me then, just like that” Tommy coached as his hips thrusted at an immaculate speed. “Maybe another baby in this house would keep you tamed. Let’s give Charlie a little brother or sister eh?” He suggested, a proud smirk on his lips.

All you could do was hum in compliance as you clenched around him. It was so slippery you had to hold your body in place. His balls were slapping against you as you felt your climax climbing as high as it could. The scream from your hot lips echoed throughout the room as you held onto Tommy for dear life. He grunted in response, and shortly followed through with his own climax. 

Your body fell dead on top of him as you tried to catch your breath back. Through deep breaths, your chest rose and fell as your eyes remained shut. Tommy breathed out, his hands caressed your lower back as he inhaled your scent. He was still buried inside of you, he could feel your fluids drip out slowly. 

“Fuck, that was something else, wasn’t it my love?” Tommy asked teasingly as he patted your rear. 

You whimpered, tear stained eyes as you looked up to your husband, he smiled softly to you, you smiled softly back. He guided your hips up, his coated cock slipped out of your swollen entrance with a pop and he helped you onto your feet. 

After he slipped his member back into his pants, Tommy guided you to bend over the bed, you winced as you followed through and he examined you. Down on his knees, Tommy pulled your lips apparent with two fingers as he watched your mixed fluids drip out of you. His hands caressed over your abused skin as he stood back up again.

“If only you could see how beautiful you look my dear” Tommy sighed, his voice dark and husky. 

He pulled you back up and held you in his arms, your flustered body caved against him. Your knees buckled as Tommy held your weak stance up, he murmured to you, his face rubbed against yours like a needy cat.  

“You wanna come down for the rest of the meeting?” Tommy hummed in the crook of your neck. 

The thought of you going back down there frightened you, the humiliation of this sudden occurrence felt too overwhelming. Having all eyes on you would cause you to have a breakdown without a doubt, you knew they heard you, your cries had echoed to the fields. 

“No Mr Shelby” you answered timidly, sniffling to yourself as you tried to cry silently. 

“That’s alright, you rest up, you look exhausted. I’ll come check on you later, I have some business to attend to after this, okay?” Tommy spoke innocently as he led you to the bed. 

Tommy helped you in, you winced at the friction of your rear to the sheets but made no comment to your husband’s kindness. The covers were tucked in around you, Tommy petted your hair to the side and smiled at you. 

“Thank you Mr Shelby” your smile shaked, cheeks still a dark shade of red. 

“Sleep well my love” Tommy whispered before he planted a tender kiss on your lips. 

It’s what you missed so badly, instinctively, your arms reached up from under the sheets and tried to snake around his back. But your body felt so weak, you couldn’t bring yourself up. Tommy hummed and pulled your body up, his hold on your lower back as the sheets slipped down your body already, his tongue slipped straight down your throat as your tongue massaged him. As you moaned directly into his mouth, Tommy pressed your faces together as he gently laid you back onto the bed. 

“I love you” you whispered once more as your head fell deep into the pillow, your tired eyes remained shut. A low hum echoed out of Tommy as you quickly fell asleep. 

Tommy walked back down into the reading room. He knew everyone had heard everything, his eyes locked with Arthur’s. As he shot him a glare, Arthur lowered his head submissively as Tommy continued on with his discussions and concerns to his family.

[ghcstao3]

hmm AU where soap started on makarov’s side. and through a whole lot of falsified records and bribes and a handful of other morally questionable measures, soap worms his way into a spot on the 141 with an alias and an only somewhat bs backstory. he's there to infiltrate, steal information, do anything he can to hinder the team without appearing suspicious.

and he does so—at first, at least. but then there's the cliché getting attached that leads him down a dangerous road. soon enough he's making excuses for both sides as to why he's faltering, and he hates that the team keeps calling him thomas, completely unaware that it isn't actually his name.

it's ghost who he becomes the closest with. it takes months for ghost to stop keeping such an intent eye on him, then there's a noticeable shift at some indeterminate point, and suddenly they've gotten too close. romantically close. and soap becomes torn between his original missions—which, technically, still is his mission—and the life he's created with the 141. with ghost.

there's one night, before any reveal happens, when ghost and soap are crowded onto one of the tiny barracks mattresses. soap has just become so tired of it all, and were anyone to know any of the truth, he'd want it to be ghost. simon. and soap would want him to be able to hear it from the source, rather than from anyone else.

ghost calls him that fake name, thomas, and soap can't take it any longer.

"that's not my name," soap confesses. blunt.

there's a brief pause; a too-long silence. then, "i know."

soap frowns, sitting up faster than he realized himself capable. "you do?"

ghost nods. his face is... strangely placid. he coaxes soap to lay back down. their faces are close. too close. "figured it out a while ago. was gonna do something about it, but decided to wait. to watch. and after a while, you just... weren't a threat anymore. though i never did figure out your name."

soap's heart beats loud in his ears. he wonders if ghost can hear it, too. "it's john," he says. "john mactavish."

ghost hums. "suits you better, johnny." he screws up his face. "thomas was my brother's name. glad i don't have to keep calling you that."

they both laugh quietly. soap relaxes, just a bit.

"and you're not mad?" soap asks after a moment. faint. timid.

"was pissed, at first," ghost admits with a shrug. "and a part of me still resents you. but i've seen how you've changed. you've proven yourself time and again. didn't make sense to keep hating you."

like a lightbulb going off, in a great moment of clarity, soap suddenly knows exactly where he stands amongst this mess.

and he realizes now just what he has to do to protect all he's built up.

"i won't let you down, simon," soap whispers, and he'll be damned if he doesn't see to it that that remains true.

[veebeeboo109]

~ Some drabbles of the LADS Men and Hair~

(Done as a writing warmup) ===LADS x Reader===

Xavier:

The least particular about his hair, he couldn't care less how it looks. The only time he even thinks about it is when its starts to get in his eyes. It only happens every few decades, as his hair grows at the same rate that he ages....which is slow.

Like most people he likes ot have his hair played with, but there's something about that just really soothes him. A few gentle pets and he's off to sleep.

Your hair might be different in this life, but he still loves it. He remembers how you used to do it back on Philos, and always gets a little flustered when you do it similarly now.

One of his favorite activities is the little beauty rituals you do, and he's always quietly eager for you to ask him to join him. Quiet evenings after a long day where you put your and his hair up and slather your faces in some new mud mask that smells like roses or lemon. The little bunny headband that shows up next to yours in the bathroom drawer is there inescplicably. And the new set of hair clips. And the under eyes masks.

During those nights, he'll comb through your hair. Taking his time to meticulously untangle each and ever knot, working so slowly you never even feel a tug. It's ritualistic. It's worship.

Zayne:

He's not too picky about his hair, but he likes to keep it groomed. A haircut every three months is mandatory, and he's been seeing the same barber since he was young. There's no fuss or frill to it, just practicality. He can't have crazyu hair products or unruly hair while in the OR.

While he's not vain, he does take some pride in his appearance, and messing up his hair can sometimes irk him a bit. Not enough to remark back, but enough to cup your fac in his hands and give your cheeks a soft pinch. A low warning about ruffling your hair too if need be. He'd never actually do it, but its fun to him to see the little pout on your face.

Your hair is a different story to him. Like other parts of you, its an integral perfect part fo you. The color of it sticking so firmling in his mind that a flash of it out the corner of his eye will have his heart skipping a beat. Constantly in search of you.

When you're together, he likes when its down. He understand that hunters need their hair up most of the time, so it's nice to see you in this way. Like a special treat, just for him.

He'll softly run his hands through it. Tender, tiny touches, never rustling more than a few strands at a time. Whether you're watching a movie, or sitting and working near each other, he'll find some way to fiddle with it. Tucking some out of your face. Adjusting an errant strand. Something.

Rafayel:

The most particular about his hair than the rest of the boys, but by no means fussy. Though compared to others he can be. His hair is used to water, and so can dry out easily. He struggled for a long time to maintain it-- inexplicable frizz and split ends arising enough to make him want to just cut it.

But if looked different...if he cut it, how would you recognize him? A bitter part of him hissed that you weren't here. That this life was one to live without you. But that hopeful part of him....that yearning ember that burned with the vow he made, held onto the hope too tightly.

So he kept his hair as close as he could to what it had been before. To the other times he'd been luck enough to meet you.

Once he's gotten a reputation as a painter and has a public persona, Thomas helps him. Sends him to a stylist who regularly douses him in deep conditioner and oil treatments.

It's a pain, but tolerable. Like most things.

When you come back to him, you take over his haircare. He insists. You set up in his oversized bathroom and help him figure out the deep conditioner. MAssaging his scalp and doting on him.

He's melting sugar in your palm, too spoiled to find anything to complain when you've got your fingers in his hair. It becomes a vice of his. A little ruffle or a pet and his breathing stutters.

He finds hair care for your hair too. A conditioner or clarifying treatment, insisting you take part in the ritual he's subjected to. Only he won't let you put it on yourself- even though you can.

He lingers. Running his fingers through your hair far longer than necessary.

After waiting for so long, any touch is too short. Every moment of contact is prolonged to its absolute length.

Sylus:

He's a man of particular tastes, but has a hard time trusting people. So he can't exactly go to a barber. Letting someone near his neck with scissors or worse a razor? No thanks.

He cuts his own hair, with the help of his evol and a few mirrors. It's taken him a while to figure it out, but it'll do.

He's the one who likes his hair being played with the lost, will go so far as to ask for it. At first its a taunt, a playful jab at you to see if you get flustered at the request.

You're surprised by how quickly he melts when you start touching him. Runing your fingers through his soft silver hair until he's practically purring.

Its a dangerous activity for him, because more often than not he ends with his head in your lap and on the brink of sleep. Unable to stop himself from sinking into the delicious feeling of your warm touch, and the reassuring hum from the linkage.

Since he's one to spoil you, anything you want for your hair is yours to have. A new haircare regimine? Ordered. New hair appliance? 1-Day Shipping. A personal stylist? Done.

[blackbirdsblackberries]

I Hate The New Hero!

Pt 9 - Smackdown

Warnings: Physical abuse

You wake up to a painfully bright light. Opening your eyes you notice you're in a hospital.

So, like any poor person who can't afford a trip to the hospital, you panic. You sit up straight and try to ignore the slightly discomfort in your body. A hand rests itself on your shoulder and you jump slightly, your spider sense were muddled up currently due to the cafe incident.

When you turn to see who placed the hand on your shoulder you almost scream.

Duke Thomas. Duke fucking Thomas.

This is officially the worst day of your life. How could it not be?

Duke seems to be saying something but you can't find the motivation to listen, he looks worried. People could say Duke was the kindest, most normal person in the Wayne family but you could see right through him.

Something was wrong with him. He's dangerous. He has to be, why else would your senses go into hyperdrive whenever he's around. Sure, he's the most tolerable out of them all but that doesn't make him instantly better.

-

Duke stops talking once he notices your dazed look. You look scared.

He furrows his brows and removes the hand from your shoulder, he slowly grabs your hand - so gentle he may as well think it was cracked glass.

"Y/N..?" He mutters, cursing himself silently due to how awkward it sounded coming out of his mouth. Your name was rarely uttered in the family, all talks being through messages and when talking in real life it was always 'that girl' or 'Aranea's hater'.

Never Y/N.

Duke had mixed feelings about you. He doesn't know what to think.

If only you'd just speak with Aranea, things would be so much easier. You wouldn't be so tormented. That look in your eyes - apprehension, fear, and something else he can't decipher - makes him pity you, you have opinions, they just happen to be the wrong ones.

Before Duke can speak up once more to try and snap you out of your dazed state the hospital door slams open.

Both your heads whip to the door a disheveled looking Dick Grayson is leaning against, heaving for breath.

It certainly snapped you out of it. Great. Just your luck. What is he even doing here? Gonna dump more water on you? Ruin more of your belongings? Rub in the fact you ended up in hospital?

To your surprise - and, honestly, horror - Dick rushes to your side and looks you over...

As if afraid of losing you..? What? Are you hallucinating?

You manage to hear his mutterings, his breathless whispers. It immediately enrages you.

"Thank fuck you aren't dead... I would feel so guilty.."

He would feel guilty? Him?

What about you. Not everything revolves around him.

You're the one that was 'pranked'.

You're the one that had the allergic reaction.

You're the one who now has to deal with her parent's wrath once they see the hospital bill.

With all the strength you have you swing your legs over the edge of the bed and stand up. None of them reach out to try and stable you when you stumble slightly.

You take a deep breath before glaring at Dick, you hope your hatred can override your exhaustion so you can actually look threatening.

"What are you doing here." You ask, though it wasn't phrased as a question - moreso a demand. You watch as Dick fiddles with something behind his back before sighing and handing it to you.

"I.. I wanted to apologize for the stunt I pulled. It was shitty of me to do. I bought you a new phone to make up for it though!"

You can do nothing but stare down at the phone in it's box. It was one of the expensive ones your parents always talk about wanting. You know for sure that if you arrived home they'd snatch it from you and hand one of their beat up phones in exchange.

So generous.

"Thanks, Dick..."

What else was there to do but sigh and thank him? He seems proud at your gratitude before turning and heading for the door. He stops before leaving and looks over his shoulder.

"No wonder you're a shitty person, you're room is super shitty." With a chuckle he then, finally, leaves. You hunch over in agitation. You are so done with the Wayne family - and you still need to deal with Duke.

Speaking of, his voice finally reaches your ears.

"Y/N..? Sorry for Dick's comments. That was super underhanded." You side eye him while he rubs the back of his neck sheepishly - what is he? an anime protagonist?

"And, uh, about the whole hospital thing, I can pay if need be!" He looks like he's ready to argue with you about it, as if you were going to reject his offer.

And at first you were, before you realized being indebted to the Waynes is infinitely better than being beaten so hard you see Bruce's parent's stupid faces by your dad.

"Okay." Is all you say, shooting him a thumbs up before looking to see if you had your bag - nope! You just gotta hope Sherri or Tia have it.

Duke looks flabbergasted for a minute before composing himself. "R-Right, yeah, sorry, I expected more.. Fight?" You watch as he visibly cringes and you can't help but deadpan.

You're from an impoverish family, one that wouldn't hesitate to hurt you. You are NOT risking anything.

"Hm. Well, you offered. I'm not going to decline such a wonderful and generous offer!" You try to hide your sneer but it seeps through your words no matter how hard you try.

With that you walk out of the room and to the receptionist at the front of the hospital. You explain how Duke is paying and leave.

The only good thing in Gotham is that the Hospitals are so out of line you could claim Bruce Wayne is paying and they'd just put him down.

Obviously no one is bold enough to do so in fear of Bruce noticing.

Walking home seemed quicker than normal, maybe you were just too eager to go home and collapse on your bed.

You quietly open the door to the apartment, it was already getting dark so you had to be careful.

But, once more, this is most definitely not your day.

Both your parents are up, you can hear your mom muttering to your dad about having a visitor. You walk into the kitchen, hungry, tired, and so done with everything you don't care if your parents hurt you.

Your mother shoots a glare to you while your father busies himself with his food - eating like a greedy pig.

"Where have you been?! We had a HIGHLY important guest here for you and you never arrived!" Her shrill voice grates on your ears and you turn to the pantry, hoping there would be something to eat.

"I was busy... School work and stuff.." You mutter, if you told your mom about the hospital visit she'd lose her head and you'd be on the streets in the blink of an eye.

That would mean your begging with Tim would be for nothing - you'd look like a fool for nothing.

"Stop muttering, child! That's not excusable! Now- What's that..?" You're mother cuts herself off once her eyes catch onto the new and expensive-looking box in your hand.

You hesitate before holding it out, she would've taken it from you anyway, best not to put up a fight.

"... Mr Grayson got me a new phone after accidentally breaking mine" You speak up, louder than before. You mom hated when you spoke under your breath, made her feel like she is the only one who can speak in the house.

She yanks it out of your hands and looks over it, your dad also seems to draw his attention to it. His eyes narrowing as he takes in the fancy thing in your mother's hands.

Your mother turns it around in her hands "Hm... You know, you don't need such a nice phone... You're only in high school. I'll take this and you can have my one!" She grins cockily.

Your dad slams his hands on the table and glares at you and your mom.

"Where is my one" he signs angrily. You gulp, you're in serious danger now..

"I.. Dick didn't get a second.. The phone was meant for me is all!" Your words falling out of your mouth like vomit.

To say your dad isn't happy would be an understatement. Your mom, noticing his demeanor, hums and says something about taking a shower as she leaves the kitchen.

Your dad stands up, fists clenched, he walks around the bench and stalks up to you. You take a step back, you can see your hands shaking in front of you as you brace for impact.

One punch across your jaw, a kick to the knee, a pull to your hair that brings you to the floor with a cry.

if it was a criminal and you were Aranea you would fight back, defend yourself. But, this is your dad, you can't bring yourself to fight back - you hate him, god you hate him.

A kick directs itself into your stomach, then your lips, then back down to your ribcage. You swear your gums are bleeding, you feel blood drip from your busted lip.

You do what you usually do when confronted with this situation.

You zone out, pretend you're in a better world, a better life.

Eventually you go unconscious, unaware of when or how. When you wake up you're on the kitchen floor and the morning light casts in your eyes like a lamp that's too bright.

You groan and sit up, blood on your tongue, your clothes, and your skin. You'll need to have a quick shower because school starts in an hour.

~

Taglist

@rissareader @delias-stuff @hogwarts9 @marsmabe @randomlyappearingartist @coralaura @nervousalpacalady @citrushalo @chericia @soriansick @v0idl1nq @scrumdidiliyumyum @kittykatcreatster @feral-childs-word @anon34570 @shycreatorreview @sunny-sp3lls @fluffypackofships @cynniee @yuyuzi-ling @coffeeaddictxd @starryperson @readermommy @niggrrooo @bunbunboysworld @yanrandom @fluffypackofchips @vanilliona @wizzerreblogs

[milkteahood]

texas heat

Thomas Hewitt x fem!reader

Warning: smut! minors dni!!!

Summary: basically a smut with a plot

Sweat broke on your forehead as you wiped it still half asleep. It was terribly hot to even rest. As your eyes opened and started to adjust to the darkness around you, thoughts about the whole situation were still fresh in your mind. How long has it been? You thought to yourself. A few months maybe? 4? 5?

You stopped counting the days after the first few weeks. What for anyway? It wasn’t like you were ever leaving.

***

“Come on boys! We are completely lost!” your friend spoke, gesturing with her hands.

“It’s fine! It’s all good. A little detour” the driver laughed without a care in the world.

“That’s right Sam! Stop being so difficult. Look, Y/N isn’t saying anything” the other guy talked from the passenger’s seat.

At the mention of your name, you looked up from your book, and then quickly got back to it. You weren’t actually reading, but they weren’t paying attention to that. If they did, they would’ve seen you didn’t turn any page in the last 5 minutes. Pretending was just a good excuse to be out of this circus of conversation.

You didn’t consider any of them your friends. And you were sure they didn’t think of you as that either. They were Sam’s friends. And Sam was your friend out of convenience, just as you were to her. You wanted to travel, and she didn’t want to be the only girl on the trip.

“Come on Y/N!” Sam started “whose side are you on?”

“Maybe we should stop and ask for directions” you finally raised a point.

“Yeah? And where the fuck would we stop for that?” the driver asked “there is nothing around here!”

A sigh escaped your lips and you finally put the book down, looking out the window. Then, suddenly, you pressed your finger on the window, gesturing in the distance “there, it looks like a house”.

Little did any of you know this was the beginning of a whole new chapter in your life.

***

Rubbing your eyes, you looked at the little clock on your nightstand. 11:30 pm it said. It wasn’t that late, yet you couldn’t remember when you fell asleep. Realistically, the only one still awake was Thomas. The thought of that made you freeze in place. Oh yes, you thought to yourself again the summer isn’t the only reason I can’t sleep.

Another sigh left your lips. You didn’t think you would end up in this situation. Spared by a bunch of cannibals for the sole reason you smacked the driver when he started insulting Thomas.

***

“Hello?” the driver’s friend… Jason? Jack? Jeremy? J something. You couldn’t remember. Your name memory was never your strongest suit.

“Hello?” J began knocking again. And a second time. Just before knocking for a 3rd time, a woman opened the door.

“Yes? Who are you?” she spoke.

“Oh hello ma’am!” Sam approached “we are completely lost. We were wondering if you could give us any directions”

Luda Mae looked all of you up and down before speaking “come inside. You will die of the heat before you get any directions”

The boys looked at each other and you looked at Sam. But ultimately decided to follow the lady inside.

***

The memories were still fresh and you were sure they would be for the rest of your life. As you lay on your back, looking around the room, you felt your heart skip a beat as another thought made itself apparent. Thomas. Or better said. Your crush on Thomas. In the past month or so, you tried your best to get close to him. You offered to help with everything and anything he needed. Yet, he did his best to avoid you. You weren’t dumb, you knew exactly why. He was absolutely terrified at the idea you’re just fucking around. Lying. Being nice to him so he wouldn’t kill you.

“For fucks sake Thomas. I was nice to you even before I knew you butchered people for a living” you whispered yelled alone, in your room.

***

“So kids, how did you end up here?” Luda Mae asked, trying to see if you would make a good addition to the Hewitt meat supply. Were you going somewhere? Was someone important waiting for you? What was the chance of people coming to look for you? Those were important questions that needed answers. They couldn’t risk killing someone that could potentially lead the police to them.

As the conversation was unfolding, the driver and J became more and more impatient to leave, and your head cocked when hearing some footsteps. Before you realized it, this massive man was sitting in the doorway, breathing heavily, not saying a word.

“Oh Tommy! Look! We have guests” Luda Mae said, looking at her son. Thomas was tall, a huge man, his apron covered in blood.

“Oh fuck! What the fuck is that? He looks like—” the driver said but didn’t get to finish whatever insults he was going to spew because you smacked him.

“Just shut up. For once. Not everything revolves around you and your daddy’s money. You can’t just speak this way to people” you said, while he looked you completely shocked. No one has ever dared speak to him that way. Let alone slap him.

And that was the moment Luda Mae decided you would be the only one left alive.

***

The floor was cooler than the bed. You stood up and looked at yourself in the mirror. It was so dark you could barely see, only managing to make out your silhouette. You stood there for a while, thinking of what you should do.

You liked Thomas from the moment you saw him. You tried to befriend him but all he did was ignore you. On the occasions he actually had to interact with you, he looked so tense, like he was on the verge of exploding. You tried to give him space, but it wasn’t really helping. And now you were pacing around your room, unable to sleep because all you wanted was Thomas. The man who killed your “friends”.

What the fuck is wrong with me… he’s a murderer, his whole family is crazy.

Yes and so are you. I mean, you’re not running. You think he’s hot. This man could dismember you in a heartbeat and you think he is attractive. Talk about fucked up.

You frowned at your own thoughts. Thomas wasn’t a monster. He did what he had to. Yet what was your excuse? Falling for him?

Your heart started racing. Yes, you were falling for him.

After what seemed like an eternity, you went out of your room, down the stairs and into the living room. You stopped in front of the basement stairs and listened. Thomas was definitely still down there and it was now or never.

In the basement Thomas was still butchering some meat, not hearing you walk in over the sound of his cleaver. He didn’t like you coming there, he always thought you would judge him, mock him even.

“Thomas” you spoke, your voice making him stop with the cleaver still in the air. He lowered it and turned to you, not saying anything.

“It’s late Thomas. Maybe you should call it a day” you spoke softly, almost afraid to startle him.

You didn’t get a response. Then, he just turned around and continued what he was doing.

This made you frown and it hurt a little. Maybe he was not liking you as much as you liked him. Maybe he didn’t like you at all. However this couldn’t be further from the truth. He did like you. A lot. Which is why he was so scared to be around you.

You bit your lip, a little too hard, and decided to approach him. The second your hand touched his arm, Thomas completely froze. His body was incredibly tense and all he managed to do was look at you.

“Did I do something to upset you?” you tilted your head “you always seem to ignore me. I’m sorry if I upset you at all”.

Thomas’s wide widened. You were apologizing to him? What for? You thought he was mad at you? But how could he? He grunted back at you. In the beginning it was very difficult to understand him, but now you could make up the words he was saying. He said no.

“Well then what is it?” you pressed him, gently rubbing his arm. His eyes looked like they could come out of his head, immediately shifting his gaze away from you, almost shaking.

“Thomas, Tommy, oh no” you reached for his other hand which was still tight around the cleaver. Gesturing for him to let it go, you managed to turn him so he’d face you. “You’re ok. Everything is ok” you said, looking at him. “I didn’t mean to make you feel awkward. I’m sorry. I will go upstairs” you gave him a bit of a sad smile and turned to walk away. Yet, you didn’t get to take two steps before he stopped you. As you turned to him, he gave you another grunt. Stay. This one meant stay.

Both of you were blushing. Your brave girl facade paled the moment you felt his hand around your arm. Compared to him, you were incredibly tiny and for that, he treated you as if you were made of glass. Because to him, you were.

You stepped in front of him, both of you looking at each other. You learned to be gentle with him, maybe even more gentle than he was with you. Because unlike you, he never had people not be terrified of him.

Smiling, you cupped his face in your hands, which caught him off guard, but he didn’t stop you. For whatever reason, you were here, you didn’t try to run away, and you were kind to him. Before he knew it, he was leaning into your touch.

“Tommy?”

He opened his eyes, waiting for you to continue.

“I really like you, Thomas”

His now open eyes were widened, staring at you, almost looking through you, waiting to see any shred of dishonesty. But there was none. You were genuine. He then couldn’t help but wonder what was wrong with you. How could you like him? No. He didn’t care. You liked him. And he was going to take it.

He didn’t realize some time passed without giving you an answer, which caused you to mumble another apology. He, however, didn’t let you finish. You soon found yourself in a hug. A very tight hug. Which you happily reciprocated.

After pulling away, you both looked at each other and without much of a second thought, you pulled the other into a kiss. It was reckless and full of built up frustrations on both parts. You were the first to pull away.

“Thomas.. it’s difficult to kiss you with that mask on”

He didn’t say anything and looked away. He didn’t want to show you. There was finally something he had and showing you his face might ruin it. He grunted a no.

“Please..” you pleaded while cupping his face again.

He damned himself for being so weak around you. You looked sad and a little disappointed. He let out a huge sigh and slowly took off his mask, letting it fall on the floor and completely avoiding your gaze. Whatever disgusted face you made, he didn’t want to see. Only if he looked to see it was not disgust but love.

“Fuck me you’re handsome” was all you said before pulling him in and kissing him again. He looked like a deer in headlights, but quickly melted into your kiss, picking you up and placing you on his workbench.

Your legs were wrapped around him, your hands pulling at his hair while he was tightly holding you by your waist. You felt his erection press against you, so you pushed yourself closer to him, which caused Thomas to grunt and moan into the kiss.

Thomas was the one to pull away this time, spending some time admiring you. Slowly, you started to unbutton his shirt “you can help me with mine if you want” you said a little flustered.

He didn’t need to be told twice. Once you felt his excitement, you knew Thomas was coming out of his shell. Soon enough yours and his shirts were thrown on the floor, and you were making out on the cold and hard workbench. You didn’t care, you also didn’t care that his grips wound leave bruises. You just wanted him. He cupped your breast, gently squeezing, earning himself a moan from you and the confirmation that he is doing it right.

“Please Tommy” you whined between kisses, tugging at his belt.

He wanted to so bad. But what if he hurt you? He had no what what he was doing. But how could he resist you? His whole body was shaking, you were begging him to have sex with you. Him. He pulled away from the kiss and quickly undid his belt and pants, making himself moan as he pulled his cock out. Your heart skipped a beat seeing Thomas naked in front of you. You look off your underwear and pull him into another kiss.

You didn’t think much before starting to palm his length, causing him to moan into your mouth. Thomas started thrusting as you were stroking him. He could cum just like that, but you wanted more. And he did too.

As your back rested on the cold table, Thomas climbed on top of you, neither daring to break the kiss. You couldn’t even wrap your legs around him, a detail he found really cute. He pulled away from the kiss only to look at your expression again. Was this really ok? Is this really what you wanted? You looked so beautiful and so turned on. Rubbing yourself against his erection was all the confirmation he needed before slowly starting to push his cock into you.

Feeling him inside you completely knocked the air out of you, immediately kissing him again, moaning into his mouth. Your figure, your voice, your shaking body were making Thomas go feral. His grunts on the other hand made your whole stomach feel hot. Thomas was thrusting into you, firmly holding your waist with one hand and supporting himself up with the other. Your arms were wrapped around his back, face buried into his neck, trying to muffle your moans.

He was hitting all the right spots, causing your mind to go blank and your nails to dig into his skin. Once his voice became shakier, you knew he wasn’t going to last much longer.

“Oh fuck…” you moaned and he responded by thrusting even harder. It was almost as if your every moan was making Thomas go more feral.

His rhythm was becoming more erratic, signaling that he was getting closer.

“It ok Tommy” you said between moans “I want you. Fill me up, please Tommy”.

Saying that was enough to push him over the edge. After a few more thrusts he came with a low, guttural moan, completely intoxicated by you.

You were both panting and looking at each other afterward. He couldn’t believe what just happened. Were you a dream? No. You were there, smiling at him. Did that mean you were his now? Yes. Most definitely.

He picked you up off of the table, squeezing you close to him. He was still panting and so were you, yet, both happy and finally content.

[ashley-foster-13]

Hi! Me again, I just can't stop reading tmr headcanons. Can I request 'what would tmr boys reaction would be if their S/O got kidnapped instead of Minho.' Thank you!

What would tmr boys reaction would be if their S/O got kidnapped instead of Minho

- His s/o was not the type to throw themselves in danger

- however, when the berg showed on the horizon, they were one of the first people to put their hands on a rifle

- Thomas got there late, and there was no s/o in sight, so he figured they were safe

- until they sprang out of nowhere, trying to tackle Janson

- the nearby soldier knocked them out right away

- Thomas struggled against the two soldiers holding him down

- misplaced his shoulder in the process

- he yelled the name of his s/o so loudly he probably wouldn't be able to speak for a week

- a huge fight started, during it the kids, including his s/o were loaded in the berg and took off

- being reckless as he is, Thomas managed to keep Janson off board, beating the living hell out of him

- soldiers stopped him, but not before Ratman was half dead and bleeding

- Thomas didn't hide his tears

- was terrified Wicked would experiment on s/o, or kill, or God knows what else

- wouldn't stop thinking about how to save them

- would do anything to get them out alive

- would have dreams when he saves them and hugs and kisses them, wakes up with tears of happiness streaming down his cheecks only to realize it wasn't real and cry some more, but in fear and sadness

- after saving his s/o, Thomas is super overprotective of them

- like, every little thing, a paper cut or a bruise or a slightly different voice would make him run towards them, asking if they were okay

- eventually came back to normal

- but we all know he's soooooo caring and protective

- the moment he saw his s/o in Wicked's arms, his world stopped

- however, he got out of his stupor quickly, trying to run for you, but the soldier kicked his bad leg, causing him to fall

- when he finally managed to stand up, s/o was already gone

- he kept yelling curses at them, kept hitting those injured soldiers who were left there to die

- it helped nothing and he knew that

- honestly, he could've murdered someone if not for Minho, who held him in a tight hug until he calmed down

- his anger turned to an agony

- he was crying hard, because he was in terrible pain, physically and emotionally

- he vowed to get s/o back safe and sound

- would be the first to find them, as if he felt where they were

- didn't let go of their hand until they reached the Safe Haven

- both didn't go out of the hut for a couple of days, talking, crying and promising their love to each other

- when he barely escaped being captured by Wicked, he thought the victory was there

- little did he know they grabbed s/o instead

- s/o bravely fought the soldiers, but Minho couldn't see it

- and then his s/o stands on the berg, helplessness in their eyes as they take off

- and Minho just stands there, angry at Wicked, and furious with himself for being unable to help

- Newt and Thomas promise they'll find his s/o

- he became very grumpy after that, but also really really silent

- sometimes his bottled up feelings would unleash on everyone because of any little thing

- like a stupid question, or a fallen fork

- he wpuld be so eager to find his s/o he didn't even think when he stalked inside the Wicked headquarters fighting off every soldier like they were bugs

- he found s/o exhausted, hurt and bleeding

- but they were alive, that's all that mattered

- hugged them all the way back

- watched as the medics patched them up, controlling everything

- never leaving their side while rlthey recovered

[fel-09]

You can get burned by him

Tommy shelby x reader

Tags: Fluff, 18+, Everyday life .

Author's notes:I write lighter works more often, because for me it is in some sense an outlet, and in addition I try to write everything more realistically, which would be characteristic of the characters, this is my separate "Roman empire "that I hold on to

The sun shines softly through the translucent curtains, casting a warm, golden light over the room. There's something enveloping about this lazy morning, as if time itself has stretched out, allowing you and Thomas to linger within its confines a little longer than you're allowed.

His breath slides over your skin in hot, lazy touches as he runs his nose along your neck, barely awake. Warm, moist, tinged with tobacco and whiskey. Before he's fully awake, he still reaches for you, as if reluctant to let go of the dream world, preferring the reality of you beside him.

You hide from the morning light without opening your eyes, burying your nose against his neck. His pulse beats evenly under your skin, a little slower after sleep, and that measured rhythm seems the only true rhythm in this morning lull.

His palms, warm, confident, slowly glide over your stomach, exploring it as if for the first time. His fingers lazily trace invisible patterns, sometimes squeezing your skin a little harder, leaving behind a pleasant, subtle tingle.

Thomas hums softly, nuzzling his nose into your hair with a lazy grin.

- Lazy woman- he says, his voice low and morning, a little gray from sleep.

You smile, but you don't answer, only snuggle tighter against him, feeling the warmth of his body intertwine with yours.

It's never cold in winter. He's like a stove, hot and warm, wrapping you in his heat while the wind howls and the rain pours outside. You hide in his arms, covered by his body, and Thomas holds you against his chest, tightly, as if he's afraid you'll disappear. At times like this, it seems as if there is no war, no blood, no filth of the streets of Birmingham-just his breath in your hair and his hands clutching you as if you were the most precious thing he had.

But in the summer... In the summer, he's a challenge. He's hot as a coal, and even the slightest touch of his palm leaves you feeling like you've been burned. You scramble out of bed, seeking refuge across the room, stretching out on the cool sheets, hoping to cool off a little.

But he always finds you.

A dark shadow flickers at the door, footsteps approaching-unhurried but inevitable. Before you can even squeak, Thomas lifts you easily into the air, tosses you over his shoulder, ignores your protests, and returns to bed, tucking you stubbornly beside him.

- Did you think you'd run away? - he whispers hoarsely, sliding his lips over your skin.

You frown, but you realize there's no use in running. Because his arms are already around your waist, tight, sure, and not even the sweltering heat can make him let you go.

But when you make love, it's pure hell. His heat penetrates you, driving you crazy, driving you to the edge where any touch becomes unbearable, but you're still drawn to him

His skin is red-hot, his kisses hot marks on your body that throb like they're alive. You're burning, shivering, tears rolling silently down your cheeks, either from pleasure or in a vain attempt to cool your body, which is literally melting from his proximity.

The way he moves, quickening his pace each time, and it was already tight inside, but having him inside you stretches the walls too much, and for a little while you thought you were going to pass out like that, but a light slap on your firm ass brings you to your senses, and then it starts all over again.

But that's not the point.

It's a surprisingly nice day today. Not too cold, not too hot-perfect for lazing in his arms, not running away, not wriggling, not complaining about the unbearable heat. His body is warm, just warm enough to make you want to stay close, to let yourself be a little weak, not thinking about time.

You lie with your nose against his neck, breathing in the familiar scent of cigarettes, whiskey, and something elusively familiar. Thomas moves slightly, lazily running his palm over your back, drawing invisible lines. He doesn't seem to want to get up either, to go to work, to sink back into his business.

You have a little more time today. And he, as if realizing this, only pulls you tighter against him.

- Okay, I have to go to work-Thomas said, kissing your forehead and pulling your hands away. His body instantly became absent as soon as his embrace withdrew, leaving only warmth on your skin. He got up from the bed, going to get dressed.

You snorted, sliding onto the bed and looking into his eyes.

- 'Well five more minutes, please,'-you stated, not taking your eyes off him, trying to squeeze out just a little more time.

Thomas only shook his head, not losing his resolve.

- No, I can't- he said, picking up his shirt from the floor and pulling it on.

You weren't going to give up. With lightning-fast determination, you clung to him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders from behind and pulling him sharply towards you. He was on his back, eyes wide with surprise when he was in your arms before he even realized it.

- Are you out of your mind? - He snorted, trying to hold back a laugh but still unable to get up. - What if I'd run you over with my body?

You just turned around to face him, squeezed him a little, and said quietly but confidently:

- You couldn't.

His eyes grew darker, and he tilted his head slightly, watching your every move, taking his time to make the first move.

- You're impossible- he sighed, his fingers sliding down your cheeks, leaving a slight warmth on your skin. As if lost in that touch, you gave in and rested your head against his hand, feeling the softness and certainty of his movements. Thomas looked into your eyes again, and there was everything in that look, tiredness, tenderness, and a slight weariness, as if he didn't know why he couldn't just leave, but instead stayed, stayed with you.

- Five minutes- you whispered, your voice barely audible, but there was an insistence in it that only strengthened your request. He stared at you, his eyes exploring your face as if he were trying to unravel some mystery you were hiding. A sigh, barely audible, escaped his lips, and he pressed his forehead against yours, wrapping his arms around your body so tightly that he seemed to be trying to memorize every moment, every sensation.

He was there for you, and you didn't need anything more. In that moment, his warmth, his closeness, was all you needed.

- Five-he whispered again, and his lips found your neck, leaving a hot trail there as a reminder of his presence. That kiss was gentle but passionate, as if it were a promise that this moment, this morning, would be yours.

[p0lyn3sian]

Can I plz get a child reader?

A child reader with undiagnosed autism x multi slasher/whatever you want to write fandom

YESSS OFFFCCC!!!! I only added slashers that would be great with kids!

I also had to search up about undiagnosed autism, so this was maybe or not accurate, so I'm really sorry about that!! Also your age would be 6 or 7 or whichever you want! Also, this was kind of off topic for some of these characters, so I hope it's okay!

Slashers: Carrie, Hewitts & Sawyers (Mama Luda, Hoyt, Monty, Thomas, Drayton, Nubbins, Chop-Top, & Bubba), Jason, Hannibal & Will, Sinclair Brothers (Bo, Vincent, & Lester), Norman, & Chucky & Tiffany!!

Slashers w/ a child reader that has undiagnosed autism!

Carrie:

Carrie understands what stuff you hate and what stuff you love/like! She looks out for you while you play on the playground, and she knows now that you don't like to socialize and you would rather play by yourself.

Carrie knew that you hated loud things or sounds, because you would cover your ears from those noises. Sometimes Carrie would call out your name, and you wouldn't respond to her so she'll rub your back or lightly tap your back. Carrie would then walk to the kitchen with you and make your favorite food!

Hewitt family & Sawyer family:

Living with a cannibal family is sometimes scary for you and okay. Most times the whole family is busy doing their own things, and sometimes they'll argue about things.. Mama Luda knows that you cover your ears if someone is too loud, so she'll make everyone shut up, or she'll hit every single one of them (She did it a few times with her wooden broom, which left red marks on some of them 💀.)

Except for Thomas and Bubba, these two would try and make you laugh or happy! Nubbins and Chop-top would mostly likely bother you, because apparently these two have nothing else to do, and just bother you without a care in the world. You'll sometimes be with Monty and his little dog, just only petting the dog if you're bored or playing with his little dog too! You'll thank Drayton for cooking his delicious chili every time he cooks it! Hoyt is something else, he'll yell at you for this and that has never even done before. Until, Mama Luda will start beating him and make him do something else instead of screaming at you. You love hanging out with Mama Luda, because she loves to give you hugs and kisses on the cheeks and forehead!

Jason:

Jason would see you do stuff repeatedly with your hands or spinning around in circles, etc. Jason would try and calm you down with your meltdowns, he'll try hugging you, making your favorite food, or reading your favorite book to you! When it's camping day at camp crystal lake, Jason would always keep a look out of where you are. Jason would see that you don't really interact with people, just small talks here and there but nothing more than that. Jason is not worried about that at all with you not socializing with other kids your age or people that are older than you!

Jason gets really worried that you don't answer him, like you're staring at him while he's signing your name, so Jason would tap on you gently to see if your trance would stop. It did and you would kinda see Jason crying, because of how close he is and he would give you a big hug, while you will hear sniffles from him. Jason also knows what things and/or food that you love and what you hate!

Hannibal & Will:

Hannibal and Will know about the undiagnosed autism you have! Hannibal has seen your reactions with different types of smell and even food too! Will also see that you would avoid eye contact when Will would ask you things! So, these two would try and do things to help with your undiagnosed autism! For example, Will would buy you coloring pages and water color pages too! Hannibal would try and find you other calming activities, like toys that aren't loud for your ears or toys that can be really boring over time!

Hannibal and Will have put you homeschooled, because they have a feeling that if you are in a public school with your last name being the same as Hannibal's and if the FBI would find out about you, they'll take you away which they wouldn't want at all. There's been some difficulties with you not responding to your name, Will or Hannibal would tap you softly and make you do something else and would do the work later for your undiagnosed autism! Hannibal and Will would soothe you from your meltdowns you would have and make you a warm cup of tea that is great for your taste buds!

Sinclair Brothers:

You would always hangout with Vincent, because it's quiet and you love seeing Vincent do his work! (Vincent would make a spinning circle with his index finger, to tell you to turn your whole body around, because some of his work is not for you to see.) You love hanging out with Lester and Jonesy, because Lester would always try and make you laugh whenever you feel down, or Jonesy licking your face which also makes you laugh too! You still kinda think Bo is scary, but Bo would try and get things from people that are interesting or something in the house they owned when they were little.

Bo would give you Vincent's coloring pages with coloring stuff he has found in their toy boxes! He would also give you toys that are interesting for you too! So, little by little time hanging out with Bo, you would sometimes go with him and people would try and kidnap you even though they're trying to get you out of that scary place. Until, Bo would hunt them down with your cries screaming for Bo to help you from them. All three brothers would try and make time to play board games with you, or cook food for you too!

Norman:

Norman knows a lot of things about undiagnosed autism! He has a book or two that's about autism and other stuff too! So, Norman would examine what food you hate and food that you love to eat! Also, smells that would make you go into the other room. Norman would buy toys or things that are calming for you and that you wouldn't get bored while Norman is working!

Norman sometimes calls out your name for something or to eat, and he would see that you aren't reacting to your name being called. So, he would tap on you gently to come do some stuff or eat! Norman would also soothe you from your meltdowns that you have, he would hug you for a little bit until you feel better, or do things that you love!

Chucky & Tiffany:

Chucky and Tiffany would try anything to calm you down from your meltdowns! They would make you laugh, or do something that you love! Tiffany would give you kisses on your cheeks and/or forehead, she'll also give you a hug if you want hugs too! You would smile at Chucky to see if he smiles at you too, and Chucky will give his smile, because he sees people not smiling back at you which makes you not look at them until they smile at you!

Tiffany knows what food you love and hate, even smells too! She would always tell her husband what things to buy for you and other stuff too! If you're eating a snack at the table, Tiffany and Chucky would always sit with you and talk with you so that you wouldn't have a sad face! Chucky and Tiffany would always make time for you, and take you out somewhere instead of you staying in the house! They would take you to a fun place and a restaurant that you'll definitely love!

[edwards-exploit]

HOW DO THE TTTE CAST LAUGH?

Thomas - a rapid fire laugh that's incredibly infectious. Kind of your standard HAHAHAs or HEHEHAHAHs but it's still very genuine and liable to make others laugh as well

Edward - he wants you to believe that his polite little "hmm-hmm-hmm"s are his laughs. His actual laugh is a squawky, ugly, incredibly loud seagull laugh that only Thomas knows about.

Henry - a wheezy laugh, kinda sounds like "eeeh-heeeh-heeeh". Not a loud chortler but completely unable to articulate words.

Gordon - a deep, rumbling laugh. AHO-HO-HOs. Embarrased over his own laughs so he immediately composes himself and goes ENOUGH

James - a squeaky, chipmunky laugh like EHEHEHEHEEEH. He snorts a little, too. Tries to make it sound more impressive, like NYEHEHEHEH! but if it's funny enough he devolves into his true laugh sooner or later

Percy - a cutesy little heeheehee laugh but it oscillates between that and a racouous AUGHAHAHAHA laugh

Toby - dad chuckles- not exactly laughs, it's not too loud for them. Slaps his knees as he chuckles. Like ohohohohoho!

Duck - a snorting, honking, slurpy and damp mess. It definitely sounds like a duck quacks. Like its like eheheh-*SNRK*-heh-*SNRK*-heh-*SNRRK*-

Donald - deep, throaty HAGH-HAGH-HAGH-HAGHS while also elbow nudging the guy who made the joke appreciatively

Douglas - The same HAGH-HAGH-HAGH laugh as Donald, but completely different reaction; he immediately beats the nearest object up in the vicinity. Slamming tables, punching walls. If he's just an engine he just shakes helplessly as he laughs.

Oliver - His laugh used to be loud and genuine, a real YEHAHAHAHGAHAHAHAH with tears in his eyes kinda laugh but he learned to be quiet during the escape and never quite unlearned it when it comes to laughs. It's now kinda like, quiet chortling.

Emily - a regal, queenly laugh of O-HO-HO-HO! but when she breaks down it devolves into banshee like shrieks

Nia - it sounds like tsshAHAHAHA! tssshAHAHAHA! Like she tries to hide her real laugh at first but cant help it, and it sounds so clear and genuine

Rebecca - laughs a lot, so everyone's used to her giggling, but it's always a welcome sound! It's a cute little, high pitched and rapid fire hee-hee-hee! And she sounds so delighted every time. When she laughs louder its like HEEAHAHEEHAHA!!!!

[itzpookiepooh]

Without You

What will you do now?

It was lonely these days. You couldn’t stand the silence. You missed him…everything about him. Going through his things was the hardest part. The endless portraits he painted that were to resemble any time you’ve spent together. The Polaroids were the hardest to go through each one had a smile even if it was the faintest one.

His place was going up for sale soon. You didn’t want it to but you had no choice. Talia couldn’t bear to live in it not without him. It was up to you now. Thomas was in charge of his paintings but there was one you intended to keep. It was one of the beach, the colors so different it filled you with an emotion you couldn’t put your finger on. All you knew was that you wanted to keep it.

“I miss you.” You sob holding the painting close, your tears creating a small puddle on the floor. “What am I going to do without you?”

Your heart wrenches as you wail and as if the sea heard you, the waves become violent, matching your cries.

You don’t stop, you don’t breathe, you just wail. In a way this is the closest you’ve ever felt to him since he left you.

The video rewinds for nth time. The same scrunch in his nose, the same glint in his eyes as he wipes icing on you, the same laughter afterwards, and that smile. The smile that lit up your whole world. The smile you thought you swore you would never live without. Now you’re forced to live that reality.

You’ve beat yourself up over it over and over again. Everyone said it wasn’t your fault but you knew it was. You should’ve listened to him and now he was gone. Curling up in your bed with his shirt to your nose was all you had these days. Your colleagues tried to get you to come out and get your mind off of it but they knew you wouldn’t leave.

At times you were in denial. As long as you had your memories of him, he was there. He wouldn’t leave you alone he promised. This ache would go away soon, at least that’s what you told yourself. He would be home soon from a long shift and kiss your forehead. He would.

‘Honey, it’s not your fault.’ A daily reminder from his mother. A message that you received everyday. No matter how much you heard it you couldn’t believe it. You ignore it and replay the video once again. It was just you and him. Forever.

The base was too quiet and you couldn’t stand it. Not today anyway. The clicking of your shoes echo not another sound to accompany it. Your face was stoic as you made your way down the hall. No destination just walking, clearing your head. You were angry to say the least.

You walk past it once again. It was always in the same place so why did it bother you so much today. You walk backwards to face it. Today you had to face it. The portrait of you and him. It was a live portrait from your wedding, the look of love consumed you. It was all in vain anyway.

Your skin boiled with anger, resentment over something neither of you could control. You ripped it off the wall tossing it to the ground. You wanted to smash it, destroy the only happy memory that remained in this hellish place. You don’t but you kick the frame causing it to crack. Your heart beating irregularly making you take a deep breath and fix your suit.

“I hate you for leaving me.” You mumble looking down at the portrait. You feel a lump form in your throat, “but I still love you. I’ll always love you.” You whisper before walking away. Onychinus wasn’t going to run itself, being the new boss wasn’t easy but you refused to let his hard work be for nothing.

You put the pot down with a smile on your face. A feast was prepared and you couldn’t wait for everyone to dig in. You were proud of your work, everything smelled heavenly. You took the oven mitts off and hung up your apron before sitting down.

Then everything hit you all at once. Your smile was wiped as you swiped everything off the table. Glass shattered and food smeared on the floor. You screamed and wailed as you threw everything in sight. Your chest heaved rapidly as you stood and looked around at the mess you made.

Simone, Tara, and Jeremiah freeze watching everything unfold. They knew you were dealing with Xavier’s death in your own way but this was out of your character. You were bottling up your emotions on the matter because you didn’t want to feel it. You didn’t want to reminisce or think about him not being there. You refused to believe he left you on this stupid planet alone.

“You promised…” You whimpered as you fell to your knees. Your hands cover your face as you sob and hiccup. Bless your friend’s hearts, they stayed for you, cleaning up your grief. Tara stayed with you as you grieved under the night sky. You stared at the stars watching them twinkle. He may not be there physically but you knew he was there in every twinkling star in the sky.

You did it. You took down Ever and anyone who caused Caleb any harm. You wanted to feel satisfaction but it wasn’t enough. You wanted to blow sky haven sky high. He wouldn’t want that, he wouldn’t want you to create enemies for yourself.

How did you get here? All this anger and resentment sent you on a rampage. You were creating a name for yourself. You couldn’t sleep knowing he was gone. Everyone had to feel what you felt that night. You took your gloves off and threw them to the ground as you descended into the darkness. When you reached the bottom a sick smile made its way onto your face.

The leader of Ever, on his knees and tied up. You lift his head with your foot, his face was already battered and bruised. You were reveling in your victory. He took everything from you so you were going to return the favor. A sickly laugh leaves your throat, a lump from grief forming. After this it was all over.

“You took everything from me. It’s only fair I do the same thing to you.” You swing your leg forward causing him to cough painfully. You roughly grab his hair yanking him towards you, your voice sinister as you spoke, “I’ll make you feel everything he did.” You throw his head down, a thud sounding through the area. You were going to deal with your grief your way. Your way is best.

Do we love it or do we love it? I love writing angst.

[thatfanficstuff]

Family Be Damned - Alfie Solomons

Pairing: Alfie Solomons x Shelby Sister!Reader

Warnings: nothing beyond canon

You loved your family. You did. But they were just so…much.

Your miscellany of siblings loved you just as you loved them in return, but they barely gave you enough room to breathe. Your twin Tommy was the worst of lot, and unfortunately for you, he was also in charge of your family, despite Arthur being the oldest. It was no surprise really that you ran off to make your own life in London not long after the boys returned from the war. You just needed peace. Needed to breathe.

One rainy morning a few months after you’d moved to the city, you were hurrying along the sidewalk, glancing over your shoulder as you went. The innate Shelby paranoia still impossible to shake no matter your distance from home.

“Oi, watch where you’re going!” The low, rich voice brought you out of your head as you snapped your attention forward.

A large man in a heavy coat, his hat casting a shadow across his features, stood before you. His eyes were sharp as they locked on yours. You sucked in a breath as his very presence filled the air around you with an intensity you hadn’t felt from anyone but Tommy. The stranger’s lips curled into a half-smirk as he took you in.

“Apologies,” you said. “Didn’t see you there.”

That smirk only grew as he tipped his hat in a gesture of mock civility. “Alfie Solomons at your service. And might I have the pleasure of your name?”

You introduced yourself and were surprised at the flicker of recognition in his eyes. Of course, the first man who piqued your interest would be familiar with your family.

After a beat, Alfie stepped to the side to allow you to pass. “Lovely to meet you, Miss Shelby.” A gentle hand on your elbow stopped you as you moved past him. “It is Miss, isn’t it?”

A genuine smile curved your lips. “Guess you’ll just have to find out, Mr. Solomons.”

You had gone months after you moved to London without ever seeing Alfie Solomons but after that morning, scarcely a week would go by without the two of you running into one another. Around the fifth random encounter, Alfie asked you to dinner. One date turned into two and so on until scarcely a day went by without you seeing one another.

One quiet afternoon, you were getting ready to go out when a heavy knock sounded on your door. You answered to find Alfie standing on the stoop. You frowned as you pulled him inside. “Are you okay? You’re early and you look exhausted.”

“Oh, Love, you have no idea. Pour me a drink, would you?” He kissed your temple before making his way to your sofa and dropping onto it. He took the glass from you and pulled you down to sit beside him. “We need to talk.”

You nodded but stayed quiet, waiting for him to speak.

“I need your help with something, love.”

“Of course, Alfie. You know I’ll help you however I can.” He’d never been this hesitant to talk with you and you couldn’t help but worry.

Before he could say another word, your front door crashed open. You shot to your feet as your three oldest brothers strode into your home. “Have you lost all the sense God gave you, Thomas Shelby?” you snapped. “Who gave you permission to burst into my home without knockin’? I know you were raised better even if you don’t act like it half the damn time.”

Tommy rolled his eyes. “Just calm down, alright? We were in town, thought we’d stop by to check on you. Seems like a wise decision.” His gaze moved from you to Alfie as he rose to his feet beside you.

“What are you doing here, Solomons?” Arthur asked in his usual gruff tone, his eyes darting between you and your man.

“Well, I was invited, Shelby. Which is more than I can say for you as she didn’t even know you were in town.” Alfie shifted your position so he was between you and your brothers. As if they’d ever hurt you.

“Thought we’d come to an agreement that you would stay the hell away from our sister,” Tommy said.

Alfie huffed. “I agreed to nothing of the sort.”

You scowled at your brothers, mainly Tommy. “Why do you think this is even up for discussion? It’s none of your business who I spend my time with. I thought me leaving home would have finally gotten that through your thick heads. Guess I was wrong.”

“Out of the entirety of London, you just happened to end up with Solomons? You expect us to believe that’s a coincidence?” Arthur argued, trying to make you see sense.

You put your hands on your hips. “And just what is that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, come on,” John said with a sneer. “He’s only sleeping with you to get in good with us. Even an idiot could see that.”

Alfie’s body tensed, the insult a step too far for the man that had always treated you with the utmost respect. In a blink, Alfie’s fist connected with John’s jaw. The crack of the impact echoed off the walls. Chaos erupted in its wake as the men leapt at each other, fists flying.

“Alfie!” You yelled his name, terrified the fight would cause his injuries from the war to act up. Terrified your brothers would take it too far as they were wont to do when it came to you and Ada. Terrified that the love of your life was trying to hold his own against three of your brothers who were no stranger to brawling when it suited them.

“Stop it! Enough!” But your words were lost in the noise of their battle. You pushed through the tangle of limbs, trying to pry them apart. John stumbled back, panting as he swiped blood from underneath his nose. Tommy stepped aside when he realized you were in the middle of the fray, one hand reaching to pull you to safety.

But Arthur was lost in the violence, as he often was, and Alfie was doing his best to protect himself without harming you. Arthur swung wide, his fist arcing toward Alfie when your world suddenly spun as an elbow caught your temple. A burst of pain bloomed across your vision. A cry tore from your throat as you stumbled back, warmth trickling down the side of your face.

Tommy grabbed Arthur by the back of his coat and flung him away. “Fucking Stop. Look what you did,” he demanded, gesturing toward you. “Look!” he yelled when Arthur just looked confused.

When your older brother caught sight of your injury his eyes went wide. He moved toward you and you stepped back.

“Stop.” Your voice was low, quiet, hurt evident in your tone. “Just stay away from me.”

Your brothers listened, but Alfie pushed aside his own pain to move to your side. His handkerchief was pressed tightly to your temple and you hissed in pain. You took it from him before you stepped away from him as well.

“Didn’t mean to hurt you, sweetheart. You know that,” Arthur said, a begging tone to his words. “I’d never hurt you.” His fists flexed at his sides as if he didn’t know what to do with them if he wasn’t swinging them at something.

You swayed on your feet, your head filled with pain and irritation at the men in front of you. All four of them. “Get out. All of you. Just go.”

“Come on, love. Let’s get you patched up,” Tommy said, ignoring your demand as he moved toward you. You stepped away from him.

“No. You come into my home acting like a street rat, brawling in my living room without so much as a by your leave. Alfie takes care of me. He loves me and has been nothing but a perfect gentleman the entire time we’ve been seeing each other.” You huffed a breath of irritation as tears stung your eyes. “But you don’t care about that. You didn’t even ask me about him before you’re threatening him with god knows what.”

Tommy said your name, trying to get you to calm down, to listen. He’d never been able to stand your tears, even less so when he was the cause of them.

You shook your head, wincing at the pain the motion brought with it. “Just go. Please. I can’t do this right now.”

A flicker of doubt crossed Tommy’s features before he gave you a nod. “Alright, love. We’ll go. I’m sorry for this, but I’m not sorry for protecting you. I’ll always protect you.”

You snorted in disbelief. “Knock out job you did this time, Tom.”

He pursed his lips but said nothing else before pushing his brothers toward the door as they muttered their own apologies. He stood with the door open, waiting for Alfie to come with the rest of them. Alfie’s heavy gaze moved between you and your brother for a moment before he grabbed his things.

As he passed, he paused long enough to kiss your uninjured temple. “Goodnight, Love.”

With that they were gone and hopefully this whole fiasco was over. Of course, it was just as likely they’d moved the brawl somewhere else and continued pummeling the hell out of each other. You felt like you should care more about that, but you really didn’t. You slumped onto the sofa as tears slipped from your eyes. Why couldn’t they just let you be happy for once?

***

When the knock came shortly after dawn the next morning, you were already prepared for the day. Sleep had been hard to come by as you ran every possible scenario through your head. You figured one of the men in your life would appear first thing today, attempting to make amends. The question was which one. When you opened the door to find your Alfie, relief flooded through you. You weren’t ready to deal with your brothers just yet. If you were lucky, they’d headed home and you’d be spared their presence for a while yet.

“Why are you here, Alfie?” you said in lieu of greeting the contrite looking man on your stoop.

“I had to make sure you were alright.”

You studied him in silence, wondering what he thought of you now that he’d had to deal with your brothers. The Shelbys were a fucked up family, but they were your fucked up family.

“Can I come in?” he asked when you just continued to look at him. “Please, love. Just for a moment.”

“Wasn’t sure you’d open the door,” Alfie admitted as you stepped back to let him in. His rough voice wrapped around you, comforting you as it always did.

“Almost didn’t,” you admitted.

He grasped your chin lightly and turned your head so he could inspect your temple, wincing as he saw the bruising. “I’m sorry about last night, love. I should not have done that.”

You huffed a laugh. “What? Punch my idiot brother when he ran his mouth off like usual?” You shrugged. “It wasn’t the first time John has been punched and it certainly won’t be the last.”

Alfie tsked and stepped away to pace the floor. “I’m not sorry for teaching him to watch his mouth when it comes to you, but I should not have done that in your home. Your sanctuary. I should have dragged his sorry arse outside first.”

You watched him worry for a moment then moved over to sit on the sofa. “You might as well get it over with,” you finally said.

He turned with a frown. “What do you mean, love?”

“Go ahead and tell me we’re done. That it was fun while it lasted but my brothers are just a bit much. That business comes first. That I’m not worth the hassle.” You waved a hand through the air as if it wasn’t important. As if your heart wasn’t breaking. “I’ve heard it all before or some version of it anyway.”

Alfie immediately moved to your side and took your hand in his before kissing the back of it. “Enough of that, now. I’m not going anywhere.”

“What?” The word was little more than a breath.

His smile was warm as he said your name. “I’m not going anywhere, love. Your brothers are not going to scare me off, a fact I made rather clear to them when we left here last night. I love you with every bit of me and I will stand by your side until you tell me to piss off yourself, family be damned.”

It took you a long moment of studying his features, looking for any lie before you threw your arms around his neck and pulled him to you. He immediately returned the hug as he kissed your cheek. When you pulled away, you grinned at him. “I love you, Alfie Solomons and there will be no getting rid of me, I’m afraid. Family be damned.”

[kiss-theggoat]

Gonna need a part two where the slashers realize their s/o is alive >:’(

Slashers Fix You Up

Slashers Included: Thomas Hewitt, Billy Loomis, Stu Macher, Asa Emory, Michael Meyers, The Sinclair Brothers

TW: Violence and Gore

Thomas Hewitt:

The wound to your stomach was deep. It tore through deep tissue and muscle, but lucky for you, Thomas knew exactly what to do.

Not only had he been stabbed like that, but he’d become really good at sewing and stitching up human skin.

You woke up, feeling groggy, but immediately recognized the basement you were in. You laid on Tommy’s workbench, shirt off and torso numb.

When you looked down you saw Thomas hunched over you, huge hands trying hard to delicately sew you up, fingers covered in your blood.

You whispered to him, and you could’ve sworn you saw his heart skipped a beat. He jumped up, immediately grabbing the side of your face with relief written all over his face, eyes wide and breath heavy. He wouldn’t know what to do with himself if he lost you.

Billy Loomis:

Nothing when like it was supposed to that night. Sydney got away, Stu stabbed him too hard, and the worst of all…he stood above you, watching your blood pool on the hardwood of Stu’s living room.

He bent down, putting pressure on your wound while looking around the room, taking deep breaths and trying to think rationally…he needed to get you out of here. He quickly lifted you, trying to ignore your pained groans. He hated seeing you like this.

The moment he got your arm around his shoulders and your feet on the ground, he heard them…sirens. He was conflicted. Relief washed over him. He knew you’d be getting help soon but…if he didn’t run…Syd would tell them everything. He’d go to jail, be found guilty for murder.

In that moment, he didn’t care. He helped you limp towards the front door, pushing it open. You’d lost too much blood…you didn’t even realize that Billy was sacrificing himself to save your life.

Stu Macher:

Stu watched his entire world fall apart when Billy stabbed you. He watched you fall, holding your gushing stomach, blood seeping from between your fingers.

He rushed to your side, hands covering your wound as he laid you back onto the ground.

“Just look at me. Don’t worry, keep looking at me.” He refused to let you look at your wound. He didn’t want you to be scared about how hurt you were. He lifted your hands to inspect your wound…he sighed in relief.

“It’s okay baby…the bleeding is slowing down…you’re gonna be okay…”

Asa Emory:

Asa never expected you to fall into one of his traps. He was beating himself up about it, but there was no time. He lifted you onto his operating table, covering your entire body with gauze.

He started slow, sutures and thread in his precise hands. You were covered in deep wounds, caused by rusty nails…he whispered his apologies, holding one hand as he poured antiseptic over you. It burned, it was unbearable…but you trusted him.

He carefully sewed each wound with a single suture, making sure to reassure you and stop the bleeding whenever it happened. It took him hours, but nothing would stop him from fixing you. Fixing your skin, fixing his love.

Michael Meyers:

For the first time in his entire life, he felt guilt. He felt a storm of emotions, but as he stared at your knife wound- the one his dumbass caused…- he knew it wouldn’t kill you. He’d never felt so terrible and so relieved in his life.

He quickly scooped you up, carrying you into the bathroom with shaking fingers. His hands had never shaken before…

He slammed open your medicine cabinet, hard enough to crack the glass, and popped open the first aid kit, sending gauze and band-aids onto the bathroom floor. You’d patched him up plenty of times so it should be easy…right?

Six butterfly bandages, four bandaids, and two complete rolls of gauze later, you felt like you might be suffocated by the first-aid supplies but…he’d tried his best. And, you weren’t bleeding anymore.

Sinclair Brothers:

The blow to the face had broken your eyebrow and sliced your skin, and the fall to the floor left you with a concussion and a sprained wrist. Vincent carried you downstairs gently, knowing he had the supplies to fix you up in his workshop.

All three brothers stayed by your side, and you were never alone over the course of the next week, especially while you were sleeping, until your concussion headache finally went away.

Your face was bruised and swollen and it hurt like nothing else you’d experienced, especially the cut on your eyebrow.

But, every morning when you walked downstairs, you received a kiss on the eyebrow from each Sinclair brother, and they all treated you like you were made of porcelain, even Bo.

[batboopp]

sorry but the routes dc decides to go down when concerning martha + thomas coming back to life/even in the context of flashpoint makes me so mad, mainly because of all that wasted potential. like realistically it would be martha donning the cowl and being a touch more brutal than her son considering she was literally a vigilante who died protecting innocent children and was the thing that inspired bruce all throughout Batman: The Ultimate Evil (the literal last line of this comic is “I will fight in your name, mother.” with a note from martha that reads “when battling demons, aim not at their hearts.”) and it would be thomas who is hyper-pacifist and absolutely refusing to hurt anyone while he’s judging martha and bruce for beating the shit out of muggers, considering thomas was the person who taught bruce to never let anyone die, especially in The Long Halloween (among others). Don’t even get me started on the importance of thomas being a healer and how it’s one of the driving forces that makes batman, a contrasting symbol of fear and violence, want to constantly appease the ghost of his father. and also how his mother was ‘the only person who ever understood bruce’ canonically, how she was the one demanding justice and peace even with violence, how she was the one threatening monsters to stay out of her city or she would make them pay, you’d think there would be more stories where martha isn’t dumbed down to pretty rich housewife with almost no defining characteristic outside of “nice and empathetic” but nope