teddy06writes

[teddy06writes]

Lt. Irving 'Apocalypse' Mahoe -- Chapter Master Post

Love Grows (Where My Rosemary Goes)

1986 -- Young irving meets Ice for the first time while visiting their father, Maverick, at Top Gun and takes to him like a duck to water.

2. Merry Christmas (Please Don't Call Me)

2002 -- While deployed to Spain, only months away from the beginning of the Iraq war, Irving calls home to talk to Ice on christmas morning, and finds out that Maverick has pulled Bradley academy application.

3. Great Balls of Fire

2019 -- Apocalypse having found himself roped in with the so called 'best of the best' being recalled to Top Gun, scopes out the Hard Deck with his wingmen, the night before training begins for a dangerous mission.

[teddy06writes]

Our House Is A Very Very Very Fine House

Robert 'Bob' Floyd x gn!reader

Prompt: Our House by Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young

Trigger Warnings: None <3

Summary: After a quiet morning spent together, the Dagger Squad helps you and Bob celebrate finally moving into the new house

{Playlist that kinda fits the vibe I'm going for here}

Warm morning light was already starting to filter through the half open blinds, rousing you slightly, when you felt your husband slip softly out of bed.

Reaching out to chase his warmth, you grumbled sleepily, barley cracking open your eyes, "Where're you goin'?"

Bob tangled his hand with your gently, a chuckle escaping his lips as he leaned over to press a soft kiss to your temple, "To fix us some coffee, darlin'."

"How did I get so lucky?" You grinned, blinking up at Bob's sunlight dappled face.

"Been askin' myself that all morning." He whispered, leaning in again to meet you for another, longer kiss.

After a few long minutes where it seemed like you might almost be successful in luring him back into bed, he finally disentangled himself, padding out of the bedroom, with the promise of coffee. You watch him disappear down the hall, before turning to look around the newly furnished master bedroom with a satisfied sigh.

~~

You had officially moved into the new house two days ago, and what a chaotic day move in had been. Somehow between all twelve of the daggers, two of their commanding officers, and Jake, Brigham, and Ruben's trucks, everything from the old apartment, as well as your storage unit, had made it to the house by noon. The rest of the day had been utter chaos as the aviators moved around furniture, sorted boxes, and did their best to unpack helpfully.

At one point, sensing the anxiety on both of your faces, Natasha had all but dragged you and Bob out of the house, sending you on a trip to pick up anything you had forgotten, and promising that they had everything handled.

When you two had returned to the house an hour later, every car but her old wrangler had disappeared, and she sat with Callie on the front porch in the patio furniture they had assembled, discussing plans for the following weekend.

Natasha had grinned as you came back up the walkway, explaining that she had sent the rest of the guys away, and that she and Callie had undone whatever messes they had made in the meantime.

~~~

When the smell of coffee began to float through the house, you finally managed to tug yourself out of bed, padding down the hall toward the kitchen. Pausing at the end of the hall, you drank in the sight of Bob moving around the kitchen, setting out coffee mugs beside the humming machine, before moving back to pouring pancake mix into the pan already settled on the stove.

It was as easy as breathing to move across the floor and wrap your arms around his waist from behind, nuzzling your face into his back, "Morning, Bobby."

"There you are," You could hear the smile in his voice, and he reached down to squeeze your hand with his free one, "Coffee should be ready in a second."

You humed absently, pressing a kiss to his shoulder before pulling away and beginning to assemble a plate of fruit, and other pancake fixings. When the coffee pot had filled, you quickly fixed Bob's mug the way he liked it, sliding it along the counter to him before making your own.

A few minutes later, after the pancakes had come off of the stove, you found yourself seated across from Bob at the breakfast nook, discussing your plans for the day.

"Javy said he'd bring over things for the grill, so we're all set on that front," Bob took a swig from his mug, glancing up at you, "But if you're still making that pasta salad we'll need to hit the store eventually."

You nodded, hooking your ankle around his under the table, "Well I'm sure if we take inventory, we're gonna realize there's other stuff we still need. We can go in an hour or two and still have some time before everyone gets here."

Bob hummed in agreement, and a quiet, comfortable silence settled over the kitchen. Outside, a breeze ruffled through the leaves on the trees that lined the far end of the backyard, the windchimes Billy and Neil had hung proudly at the corner of the house singing merrily.

~~~

Yesterday had been spent, first cleaning up and reorganizing from the chaos of moving day, and then continuing to unpack and settle into the rest of the house. While Bob had finished hanging photos and organizing the bookshelves in the living room, you sorted dishes into their proper places in the kitchen, singing along to your shared playlist and pausing to admire each others work every now and again.

It wasn't quite perfect yet, there were still some things here and there that needed a new coat of paint, and you would have to wait until the following weekend to begin planting in the flower boxes that lines the windows, but it felt perfect all the same. That night, you had tucked yourself into Bob's side on the sofa, looking around like you still couldn't quite believe it.

Bob had smiled sweetly, leaning in to capture your lips in a kiss, "Welcome home, baby."

~~~

A few hours later, you found yourself in the grocery store, winding your way through the isles as Bob followed behind with a cart, reminding you of the list as you went.

As you stood, debating between pasta shapes, Bob leaned against the cart, a small, fond smile on his face.

"-cause the cavatappi comes in a bigger box, so we'd only need two, but Mickey always claims that bowtie 'holds the flavors better'..." You turned toward your husband, trailing off when you spotted the look on his face, "What? Am i overthinking it? What's going on?"

"Maybe a little," He admitted with a chuckle, reaching up to push his glasses farther up his nose, "I'm just- happy."

"Because I've been holding us up in the pasta isle for ten minutes with my indecisiveness?" You raised an eyebrow, biting back a laugh of your own.

"Because we're grocery shopping. Because it's you I get to be grocery shopping with. Because I get to hold a housewarming party with you. That I get to listen to you debate over pasta shapes," He grinned, moving around the cart to wrap an arm around your waist, his hand, warm and sturdy against your side, "Cause I'm so lucky that this gets to be the rest of my life."

You couldn't help but smile into the chaste kiss you pressed to his lips, "You sweet thing... I love you too, Bobby."

The two of you stood there, lost in your own world for a few long moments before someone walking past cleared their throat, loudly, rousing you from whatever trance you had gone into. Bob glanced down at the floor, red tinting his cheeks as you laughed.

~~~

At home, as you put away the last of the groceries, Bob was busy arranging the flowers he had managed to purchase and get almost all the way back to the house without your knowing.

The endless stream of jokes from Jake and Javy about your husbands stealth pilot abilities really hadn't prepared you for just how secretive the man could be. It seemed he was nearly constantly cooking up some sort of simple surprise for you, be it sneaking away from you while grocery shopping to get flowers, or bringing home a book you had added to your TBR but could have sworn you hadn't mentioned.

As you folded the last grocery bag, Bob placed the vase of wildflowers on the kitchen island in front of you, "What do you think?"

"Their gorgeous, Bobby," You gripped his hand over the counter, "You didn't have to."

"I wanted to," He grinned, before leaning over conspiratorially to whisper, "Plus, I may or may not have heard that Jake's going to bring you flowers, and I can't have him out doing me, can I?"

"Well that's a shame, I was figuring all it would take for him to steal me away from you was one cliche red rose bouquet." You teased, giggling at the look Bob shot you in response.

You rocked forward to press a kiss to the tip of his nose in apology before straightening and moving to pull a pot from the cabinet, "Well, I'd better start on that pasta, or we'll never be eating."

"You need any help?" He asked, watching you intently.

"Start on the veggie board for me?" You asked, glancing back over your shoulder at him.

He smiled, already moving to get a cutting board, "Course."

~~~ The sound of a car pulling in the driveway, followed by chattering voices and a knock at the door sounded just a few minutes after you'd deposited the finished pasta salad into the fridge to chill.

You pulled away from Bob with a chuckle, "You ready?"

"As much as I can be, with these guys." He quipped, tangling his fingers with yours as he followed you toward the door.

Almost as soon as the door was open, Natasha was barging in, the crockpot in her hands held aloft, "I come bearing buffalo chicken dip!"

Behind her, Callie, Mickey, Ruben and Neil shuffled in off the porch, each carrying various other contributions to the cookout/potluck, and asking where they should be put.

It didn't take long for the whole house to fill with noise as the rest of the daggers appeared, spilling out into the backyard as Javy started up the grill. As the counters grew fuller with dishes to pass, Jake appeared with the promised bouquet of roses, which naturally, paled in comparison to the wildflowers already adorning the center island.

"Always have to one up me, don't you Bob?" Jake sighed dramatically.

Bob grinned triumphantly, slinging his arm around your waist and pulling you in, "Well, someone's got to put you in your place, Bagman."

He threw his hand over his heart, "Bobert how dare you?! I'm crushed!"

Bradley patted his shoulder in mock sympathy, herding him out towards the patio, "One day you'll manage to actually pull someone, Hangman."

The next knock at the door revealed Pete and Tom, who you quickly ushered in, "Thank you both so much for coming."

"Of course kiddo, we're happy to be here," Pete handed you the bottle of wine he carried, "Here, Ice picked it out, I have no sense for good wine."

"Consider it an apology for leaving you stranded amid a sea of aviators who can barley follow instructions on a regular day, let alone on moving day." Tom grinned, giving you a knowing look.

You smiled back, leading them through to the kitchen, "I appreciate that, sir."

Pete got one glimpse of whatever was going on in the backyard, and made a beeline for the door, already calling for Javy to surrender the grill, leaving you alone with the admiral as he looked around the newly decorated kitchen.

"Well, I must say, you've done a wonderful job with the place." He said.

"Thank you sir."

Tom chuckled, leaning back against the counter, "You can just call me Tom, okay? How's it feel, finally moving into your first house?"

"It was a little scary, at first. Between taking out the loans and moving in... it was a lot," You glanced around the kitchen, landing on the vase of wildflowers, before turning to look out the door, eyes finding Bob easily amid the crowd of other aviators, "But I'm glad we made it here. I can't think of anyone I'd rather make a home with."

Tom's eyes followed you own out the door, finding Pete where he was now forcibly giving Javy pointers, "I understand the feeling."

~~~

Later as everyone squeezed around the long dining room table, you cleared your throat, grabbing your glass and standing, "Excuse me, everyone, I'd like to say a few things before we really dig in here."

Bob squeezed your hand from where he sat at your side, two chairs splitting the head of the table.

"I just wanted to say thank you to you all, for being here today, and for helping us move in. I know it was a bit of a struggle, but we got there in the end," Your eyes roamed the room as you spoke, before dropping back to your husband at your side, "But more importantly, I'd like to thank you, Bobby, for taking on this incredible journey of making a home with me. I'm so happy that this gets to be the rest of my life. Cheers!"

As everyone around the table chorused, "Cheers!" And the room was filled with the sound of excited chatter and clinking glasses, you sat, eyes fixed only on Bob.

He raised your intertwined hands to press a kiss to your knuckles, "I love you too, darlin'."

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[teddy06writes]

I simply love your writing of Alfie Solomons. “Tired…” will forever remain so close to my heart. Thank you for being here 🖤

I'm so glad you enjoy them !!

Sorry I haven't been super active for Alfie (or anyone) as of late, college has been crazy but anytime you get an idea or have a request feel free to send them in :) i'd be happy to make the time to write them :))

[teddy06writes]

"I just wanted my degree bro I didn't ask for all this"

Lt. Irving 'Apocalypse' Mahoe

-- Top Gun: Maverick

[teddy06writes]

Lt. Irving 'Apocalypse' Mahoe

-Top Gun: Maverick

[teddy06writes]

Impending Deadlines, Evil Essays and Late Nights

Chris Knight x gn!reader

Prompt: It's finals week, I don't need a prompt (I'm not procrastinating you are)

Trigger Warnings: One (1) brief reference to RaGAD

Summary: While your majors may be vastly different, you and Chris always study better together. Reader is the history/literature to Chris's science/math.

~~~~~~~

The dorm room wasn't cramped so much as it was cozy. Comfortable in spite of the way it almost always looked like an active warzone, what with Chris's things constantly being strewn about. The overhead light had long since been turned off in favor of the large collection of fairy lights that had gotten strung up around that room at some point mid year.

Amid the stacks of books, papers and half finished projects that covered the surface of his desk, Chris sat, spinning his pen in his fingers, staring at his equation covered notebook. From your place on his bed, you watched as he seemed to come to come sort of conclusion, muttering to himself as he leaned forward to scrawl something into an empty space.

You watched him for a moment longer before looking back down to your own work, tediously double checking your citations, and copying down the proper formatting.

A moment later, reaching for your water bottle and finding it empty you slid off the bed with a sigh, a little too happy for the distraction. You paused behind Chris's chair to wrap your arms around his shoulders, "'m getting more water. You need anything?"

He hummed distractedly, leaning back into your touch, "I need to figure out how to make this balance."

You peered down at his barely legible handwriting, as if you might be able to make sense of the countless equations, "You'll get there."

"I feel like I'm not getting anywhere." He mumbled, tipping his head back to look at you upside down.

"You are in the top ten minds in the world, pretty boy," You pressed a sincere kiss against his forehead, "You'll get there."

He hummed, letting his eyes fall close and leaning back into you further, for a long moment, before starting to sit up again. You kissed his head again, before grabbing the empty water glass balanced precariously on one corner of the desk and heading out to the water fountain.

When you returned, Chris was hunched back over his notebook once more, hardly even looking up as you dropped off his refilled glass. You clambered back up onto your spot on the bed, leaning back against the wall, and trying to find your place amid your collection of papers.

By the time you were done going over your citations, Chris had shoved his chair away from the desk, spinning aimlessly for a moment.

He stopped abruptly with a loud yawn, looking at you with tired eyes. Shifting your research materials, you patted the bed beside you, "Come 'ere."

He was pressed comfortably against your side within seconds, mumbling, "It's late."

"It is late." You agreed, setting your works cited pages to the side and shuffling your research paper into something resembling its proper order.

"...Should go to bed."

"You can go to sleep, Chris, it's alright."

He blinked up at you, "But you..."

"I need to proofread this before I type it up tomorrow." You explained, squinting at your own, painfully neat, if a bit smudged, handwriting.

Chris hummed, readjusting to fully lay his head in your lap, "I want to stay up with you... Read it to me?"

"I'll warn you, it's quite a bit more boring than space lasers, it might put you to sleep." You said, smiling down at him.

"Read it to me," He insisted, "It's easier to catch errors reading things out loud."

You sighed, clearing your throat, "Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Enter Stage Right: An Exploration of the Straight Play, Stoppard and the Theater of the Absurd. Imagine if you will, every actor's worst nightmare..."

When you trailed off, glancing down at him, Chris peek one eye open, smiling up at you, "Great. I'm already hooked. Keep going."

Five minutes, and half of your introduction later, you glanced down at your seemingly sleeping boyfriend once more.

"Why'd you stop reading?" He mumbled, shifting to bury his face further into your side, "I'm listening, I'll always listen to you."

With a chuckle, you carried on reading, pausing occasionally to jot down notes of things you would need to look out for while typing the following morning. Any time you stopped for too long, Chris was miraculously awake again, singing your praises and prompting you to keep reading.

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[teddy06writes]

Overworked

Steve Rogers x gn!reader

Trigger Warnings: swearing, yelling/crying, reader has a bit of a break down, reader is a grad student studying something in the humanities, because I am studying something in the humanities, implied Avengers' Tower Era because I'm still at the restaurant

Summary: Grad school has been wearing you down, bit by bit. Luckily, when it finally seems to push you over the edge, Steve is there to catch you.

{it should be noted that I'm in undergrad right now, not grad school so everything your reading could be wholly misrepresented}

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

If you were being completely honest with yourself, you didn't really even want to look at your grades, or even your never ending list of upcoming assignments. In fact, if you were being honest with yourself, you would be perfectly happy never doing another assignment, and simply withdrawing from classes all together.

When you had decided to take on graduate school, you thought that you'd be able to breeze through, and get one step closer to securing the job you had always wanted. Now, sitting and your desk, drowning in assignments and library books, that idea couldn't feel farther from the truth.

The weeks leading up to midterms were probably the worst throughout the whole year, with professors cracking down on already harsh grading standards, and piling even more assignments onto your already crowded work load. You had just turned in your final midterm paper, and yet you couldn't find a single splinter of relief in that fact.

The pressure of submitting your thesis proposal, not to mention Tony's constant badgering about getting you to sit in on meetings in the Tower, were weighing down on you. So when your laptop screen lit up with notifications showing that one of your professors had begun viewing and commenting on one of your papers, you just couldn't take it.

Shoving away from your desk, you started out of your office, forcing deep breaths in and out of your lungs. Out in the living room, you could see Steve lounging on the couch, Sam's copy of The Two Towers open in his lap.

You only had to plop down beside him on the couch for him to read the expression painted on your face, closing the book and sitting up, "What is it? What's wrong, sweetheart?"

"I just-" You inhaled sharply, trying to speak around the lump in your throat, "I can't do this. I can't do grad school. I don't know who I was kidding."

Steve frowned, "What do you mean? I thought you said everything was going well?"

"It is- or at least it was- but midterms kicked my ass and now I'm behind on my thesis proposal- and I still don't have my research outlined- and I just- I can't do it. I don't know why I thought I could do it."

When you finally stopped gesturing, he gently took hold of your hands, "Hey, listen to me. You can handle this. I know you can, so why do you think you can't?"

You pulled away from him suddenly, standing and desperately trying to put words to the feelings tearing you up inside, "Because- because what if it's not good enough? What if my best just doesn't cut it and my thesis gets rejected? What if I'll have put in all this time and this money only to realize that I could never do it? That I was never cut out for it? I can't have let all of this be for nothing-"

You cut yourself off with a broken sob, and in an instant, the super soldier was on his feet, drawing you carefully into his arms. You buried your face into his chest as one of his hands worked its way into your hair, carding through it gently.

"It's not going to be for nothing, sweetheart. No matter what happens, it'll be okay. You're gonna be okay."

You sniffed, hand fisting at the fabric of his t-shirt when he moved to pull away, "Can we just stay like this, for a minute?"

"Of course, sweetheart."

~~~

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[teddy06writes]

Bitter Goodbye

Tommy Shelby x fem!reader

Prompt: "I loved you. Believe me, I did. But then you turned into someone else... someone terrible."

Trigger Warnings: Swearing, breaking up, Tommy kinda being a dick

Summary: Before everything, you and Tommy had been childhood sweethearts. But when the war changed him, he expected you to change with him...

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

It had been nearly a year since the war had ended, and by now your hopes that things would go back to the way they had been before, were long gone. Nothing was quite the same, but business at the betting shop was booming and even if he didn't confide in you the way he used to, you knew that Tommy was planning something big.

Before the war, there was hardly a thing in his life that Tommy didn't share with you. Not a day would go by where you couldn't be seen out in the street, arm in arm with Tommy, talking and laughing. Practically everyone in Small Heath was just waiting for the day when wedding bells would final chim.

As much as you hated to admit it, you were waiting too. But money was tight, and Tommy swore he wanted nothing but the best for you, even when you told him that you'd happily marry him on the bank of The Cut without a second thought.

In a way, you supposed, the war had only amplified what he already was: Ambitious and prideful. Only now, he didn't cut you in on his plans, and you saw him less and less with every passing day.

You could barely remember the last time you had actually spent time together. In a way, it felt like your relationship was already over. Maybe that was why it was so easy to make up your mind about leaving.

Originally, when Tommy first got his orders, the plan was for you to be married before he shipped out-

"Just in case," His voice wavered, but he still met your eyes, "So if anything happens to me, you'll be taken care of..."

"No- no- nothings going to happen Tom," Tears slipping down your cheeks, you had buried your face in his chest, "You're going to be fine."

Of course, the wedding had never actually happened. Somewhere between his deployment being moved up, Arthur and John's own orders coming in, and the scramble to make sure the betting shop would be safe in Polly's hands, there was never time.

Oh well, you supposed now, that just made it one step easier to walk away.

"Are you going somewhere?"

Tommy's voice at the bedroom door pulled your packing to a resounding hault. You cleared your throat before carefully resuming folding a blouse, "Yes. My cousins house in Liverpool. I'm on the 4:30 train."

He let out a sigh, and out of the corner of your eye, you could see him rubbing at his temples, "Were you planning on telling me or just disappearing?"

"I told Polly. And I'd've left a note." You said, finally looking up at him.

Tommy met your gaze evenly, but you could still see the flash of hurt in his eyes, "I know you told Polly. Darling- why not just tell me, that your unhappy?"

"Tell you? Tell you?" You repeated incredulous, "I never see you, Tommy, and when I do it's like you're not even really there! And unhappy does not even begin to cover it!"

He took a step further into the room, "Listen to me love, I swear to you, if you wait just a couple week more, for all this business to be over-"

"What business, Tommy? Or have you forgotten that you've neglected to tell me anything for the better part of six months! I've found out more about Billy Kimber and those blasted guns from John than you!"

"It was meant to be a surprise..." It was the quietest you had heard his voice in years.

"What, that you were taking over Kimbers territory? That you're selling out communists left and right? What about that is meant to be a good surprise, Tom?" You demanded.

Tommy's face twisted, and suddenly he was yelling too, "That we were moving up in the world! That with the money coming in we could finally get out of this shit hole!"

You let out a scoff, shaking your head, "Oh, and you'd finally marry me I'm sure, as if you haven't been treating like a stranger for months."

"Darling-"

"No. No apologies, no flowery words, no promises of changing," You stuffed the last of your things into your suitcase, and slamming in closed, "I'm done, Tommy."

He caught your arm when you went to go around him, standing between you and the door, "I thought you said you loved me."

You swallowed, looking up at him, "I did love you. Believe me I did. But then you turned into someone else... someone terrible."

Tommy's face broke, but you had to continue, "You scheme, and you lie and you do what you can to get ahead, and I can almost understand that, but not when it means cutting me out. There's no point in me staying here anymore."

For a long moment, a dozen emotions passed over his face, until finally, Tommy pulled a mask of neutrality together, speaking coldly, "I suppose you should go then."

You shook your head, swallowing back the lump in your throat, "Goodbye, Tommy."

~~~~ Enjoyed this fic? Help me buy textbooks :)

[teddy06writes]

hello! unrequited-love-turns-requited prompts would be greatly appreciated 🥺

Unrequited Love turns Requited Prompts

-> feel free to edit and adjust pronouns as you see fit.

"You don’t have to say yes," they whispered, barely meeting their gaze. "I just needed to get it out before it eats me alive." The silence stretched until a hand slipped into theirs. "Who said no was even an option?"

"I thought I was too late," they said, their voice trembling. "I’ve loved you for so long, but I thought—" "You are late," the other interrupted with a smile. "But lucky for you, I’ve been waiting."

"Why didn’t you tell me?" they asked, their voice breaking. "Because you deserved someone better." They grabbed their hand, their touch firm but warm. "I don’t want better. I want you."

"You’re always there for me, and I’ve never asked why," they said, studying them intently. "Because I love you," came the matter-of-fact reply. "But you don’t feel the same, so—" "Who said I don’t?"

"I thought you were in love with someone else," they said, their heart in their throat. "I was," the other admitted. "Until I realized the person I wanted was standing right in front of me all along."

"You loved me all this time and didn’t say anything?" they asked, incredulous. "Yeah, well, watching you love someone else wasn’t exactly great either," they snapped. "I’m not in love with them anymore," they said softly. "I’m in love with you."

"I don’t want to ruin what we have," they said nervously. "And what if I told you I’ve been waiting for you to ruin it?" the other asked, their lips curling into a hopeful smile.

[teddy06writes]

Ghost of His Lips

Tommy Shelby x fem!reader

Prompt: "Why is it whenever we see each other, you're covered in blood?"

Trigger Warnings: Descriptions of injuries, blood/bleeding, Tommy in his natural state (beaten and bloody), Reader was a nurse during the war.

Summary: As the Peaky Blinders push further and further into Billy Kimber's territory it becomes a fairly common occurrence to find a certain gangster on your front step, asking for some favor or another. You and Tommy have an unconventional relationship, to say the least.

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

Somehow, before you had even laid down for bed, you knew that it was going to be a sleepless night. It was almost as if you could feel whatever odd tension was filling the air, like you could sense that somewhere, a storm was brewing.

For hours, you lay in bed, restless, until finally you threw off the covers, certain that if you just had a cup of the right herbal tea, you'd finally be able to drift off.

Pulling your robe around yourself with a huff, you shuffled off toward the kitchen. Kettle securely heating up on the stove, you puttered around, searching for the tea Polly had gifted you after helping her with some errand or another that she swore helped with insomnia.

You were making a valiant effort of not checking the clock, to see just how late of a night it was, when there was a sure sounding knock at the door to your flat. You froze, waiting for a long moment before the knock sounded again, insistent.

There were only a few people who would dare knock at your door so late. Keeping the chain in place, you opened the door a crack, peering out into the darkness, "Christ, Tommy."

Thomas Shelby stood on your front stoop, leaning, almost casually against the door frame, a lit cigarette tucked into the corner of his mouth. "Ms. (l/n)."

"What the hell are you doing here so late?"

He took a drag of his cig, almost pondering how much he could tell you, before "Got into a bit of a scrape over in Digbeth. Can I come in?"

You eyed him wearily, before moving to unlock the door fully and let him in, "Put that damn thing out."

Tommy did as he was told, stubbing out the cigarette, and following you dutifly into your flat, just as the kettle began to sing.

"Tea, Tommy?"

In the light, you could see the bruises already beginning to flower around his eye, and as he moved toward the counter, you found yourself taking stock of the almost imperceptible changes in his stride, of the damage that might have been done.

"Do you have anything stronger?"

With a sigh, you were easily dragging down a bottle of whiskey and pouring him a generous three fingers, "Are you going to take off your coat and stay awhile, or is this just a quick in and out sort of night?"

"I wager you might not like it if I did." All the same, he began shrugging out of his overcoat, revealing the torn and bloody clothes beneath.

Yet again, you couldn't help but sigh, "Why is it whenever we see each other, you're covered in blood?"

As he reached for his glass, Tommy let out a huff that sounded suspiciously amused, "Believe me, if I could avoid it I would."

You rolled your eyes good naturedly, already rolling up the sleeves of your robe, "I suppose then the better question is whether it is your blood, or someone else's."

"Mine, mostly, I'm afraid."

Reaching for your medical kit, you let out a wince, "Of course it is."

You worked quietly and efficiently, something that Tommy appreciated more than he could ever put into words. There was something calming about the way that you didn't balk at any of the injuries he had presented to you, as if nothing could surprise or shock you now.

A part of him felt guilty for appearing on your doorstep at all hours, disrupting whatever peace you had made for yourself, and yet he couldn't help but return. He would never admit it, but there was no one in the whole of the city who he would rather see him at moments like this.

Watching at you methodically pressed a pad of bandages to his side, hiding the neat line of stitches that hide beneath, Tommy couldn't help but let his mind drift.

What would it have been like, if you hadn't been stationed on that hospital ship during the war? If he'd been brought before you, freshly dragged from the dirt and the mud that had threatened to suffocate him? If your paths had crossed just once?

"You're not there anymore, soldier."

Your firm, kind voice pulled him from his thoughts and he found you leaning close, two fingers tucked into the pulse point just below his jaw, where his heart suddenly hammered.

Gently, he grasped at your wrist, and miraculously, the fingers at his neck turned into a hand cupping his cheek. He could see the distance hiding behind your own eyes, the rigidity in your posture.

"Neither are you."

For a long moment, you were both frozen there, lost in the gentleness that neither of you had known in so long. Almost experimentally, you brushed a thumb across his cheek, wiping away some invisible tear.

He leaned into the touch, eyes half lidded as he turned, lips brushing against the heel of your hand. Not quite a kiss, but something so close, so strangely intimate that in that moment you couldn't be sure it wasn't a mere dream.

Tommy looked up at you, at the unreadable expression on your face, and then allowed his gaze to drop to your lips, if only for a moment. For a split second, you could've sworn there was gravity building between you, pulling you closer to him.

And then the spell broke, and Tommy was pulling away, knocking back the remains of his whiskey, and standing, clearing his throat, "Well, I should be going. Thank you, for your hospitality."

You muttered something in response, and then he was gone, disappearing back into the night; leaving you standing in your kitchen, the ghost of his lips still whispering across your palm.

~~

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[teddy06writes]

Soft Nights

Tommy Shelby x gn!reader

Prompt: “I like seeing you this way. So… at ease. Makes me wonder how anyone could ever purposely put you under stress and live with themselves afterwards.”

Trigger Warnings: Drinking, implied post Grace/reader as Charlie's step parent, soft Tommy

Summary: A quiet evening in with your husband, during which he actually relaxes, for once.

Outside the sky had already darkened, and the fire crackling in the fireplace was the main source of light in the dim living room, other than the soft glow of the lamp on the end table. The book you had been reading sat abandoned on the end table beside Tommy's half finished tumbler of whiskey.

It had be a quiet evening, and for once your husband seemed at ease. You'd even coaxed him into curling up with you on the couch, his head resting comfortably in your lap, where you could card your hand through his hair easily.

"Charlie's recital piece is really coming along, isn't it?"

He nodded softly, "It is. He's very excited about it."

"He's been making a lot of progress. You've set that evening aside, yes?" Tommy's eyes fell closed as you began lighting scratching at his scalp.

"Wouldn't miss it for the world," He let out a soft breathy chuckle, "Not that you'd let me."

"My word, Tommy Shelby are you teasing me?" You gasped in feigned shock.

The smile you loved so, graced his face, and his eyes peaked open, eyes raised. When you couldn't hold back your giggles, his own laughter quickly joined yours.

Once your chuckles subsided, you let out a wistful sigh, soaking in the soft look on your husbands face, "I like seeing you like this."

Tommy's brow furrowed for a moment, "Like what?"

"So... at ease," You brushed the back of your knuckles over his cheek, "Makes me wonder how anyone could ever purposely put you under stress and live with themselves afterwards."

Tommy hummed, leaning further into your touch, "Most people find it quite easy."

You bent down, pressing a soft kiss to his temple, "Then I'm glad I'm not most people."

~~

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Commissions

I wanted to announce that I'm opening commissions!

Proofreading:

$5 - Basic proofreading - proofreading and editing for spelling and grammar

$10 - Advanced proofreading - same as above with the addition of suggestions for revisions

Writing:

$15 - I'll write just about anything (within reason) up to 1,000 words; including essays, fics, speeches, etc.

Feel free to leave any questions in my ask box or dms!

[teddy06writes]

Hi! I adore your writing! Could I request Fiyero comforting a reader with a bad fear of thunderstorms. Maybe the reader hides the fact they have this fear until he finds them during one. Feel free to ignore.

Fears, and Comforts For Them

Fiyero Tigelaar x gn!reader

Trigger Warnings:

Summary: Fiyero never found himself questioning why you tended to make yourself scarce whenever a storm appeared on the horizon; that is, until he stumbled upon you during a particularly bad one.

{Thanks so much for requesting! I hope I did it justice!}

When the first rumble of thunder had curled across the sky on his walk back towards the dorms, Fiyero had thought nothing of it. Naturally, a few moments later, when the sky opened up above him, showering him in clear, cold water, it caught him by complete surprise.

He glanced up at the dark, turbulent clouds that suddenly taken over the sky for a long moment, before taking off for the dorms again, at a much faster pace as thunder and lighting began to crash down with more ferocity.

Inside, the main common room was dark, as if no one had been, (or been bothered) to turn on the lights when the storm began. Other than the dim light from outside, the only light in the room came from one of the smaller desk lamps from a corner table.

Fiyero could just make out the shape of you, hunched over the table, as he shucked off his now soaked jacket. He started making his way toward you, letting out a laugh, "Can you believe this weather? I was barely out there for a minute and I'm soaked through!"

You glanced up, barley meeting his eyes, and let out a forced chuckle, "Yea..."

Fiyero frowned, giving you a once over, "Darling- you're trembling... What's wrong?"

"I-" Another peel of thunder burst through the air, and you cut yourself off with a flinch.

Fiyero's face softened, understanding, "Oh darling..."

You buried your face in your hands, mumbling, "It's stupid-"

"It's not stupid," He said, kneeling beside your chair, and gently pulling your hands away from your face, "What can I do to help you, darling?"

Lighting flashed in the window, lighting the room harshly for a brief moment, and suddenly your thoughts were scattered, and you couldn't seem to draw a full breath, "I- I don't-"

"Hey, hey, look at me darling," FIyero reached up to cup your face, "Breathe. C'mon, breathe with me, alright?"

He took a nearly exaggerated, deep breath in, and you copied in him, in and out, for a few long minutes before either of you moved again. His thumb brushed back and forth across your cheek, gently, "How about this: we'll go back up to my room, and I'll get out of these wet things, and then you and I can cuddle up, and ignore this whole thing until it blows over, yeah?"

You swallowed thickly, before nodding, your voice coming out small, nearly drowned out by the next groan of thunder, "Yes, please..."

Fiyero took your hand, and soon enough you found yourself wrapped up in his blankets, head tucked close to his chest, so that you could hear his heartbeat- a steady, comforting rhythm.

One of your hands was all but knotted into the soft fabric of his shirt, fingers clenching with every new roar of thunder. But Fiyero's grip on you was firm and gentle all at once.

"'yero?"

"Yes darling?" His voice was soft as he shifted, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

"Can you- can you tell me about your day? Or about Vinkus or- or- anything, really?"

He took in a breath, thinking for a moment, before beginning to speak quietly about his childhood. As the storm wore on, he continued, and you listened intently, until you swore you could hardly hear the thunder at all.

~~

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[teddy06writes]

Take Care of You

Fiyero Tigelaar x gn!reader

Prompt(s): "I’ve been taking care of myself for a long time. I don’t need your help, and I definitely don’t need your pity. Fuck off.” / "You don’t have to go through this alone. I’m right here for you if you’ll just let me in.”

Trigger Warnings: Swearing, general descriptions of sickness, stress, something in readers background makes them not want to depend on people, out of character fiyero? (idk man I've only seen the movie and read a lot of gilyeraba fics}

Summary: You and Fiyero have been going out for a few weeks, but you're still hesitant to let yourself get too near him. When you come down with the mysterious illness that's been working its way through Shiz, Fiyero's determined to nurse you through it, despite your reservations.

The harder you tried to focus on the words before you, the more your head swam. The library was quiet, and the lights were dim, so there shouldn't have been any chances of your headache getting worse. Yet pain still thundered at your temples.

Of course, after dodging this sickness for weeks, you caught it just in time for Dr. Dillamond to assign a very important project. It was just your luck.

You dropped your pen to the side, letting your head drop down onto your arms, heaving in a deep breath. No matter what you took or how much you tried to shake it, you could lose the bone tiredness that had been plaguing you for days now.

"You alright, darling? How long have you been holed up in here for?"

You nearly jumped out of your skin at the sound of Fiyero's voice, dragging your head up so quickly you swore you saw spots, "Uh-"

"Woah, hey," He quickly sat down in the chair next to you, reaching out like he needed to steady you, "What's going on?"

You blinked, trying to clear your vision, "Sorry- sorry, I'm just- tired."

"No need to apologize, darling. Are you sure you're alright?"

Clearing your throat, you nodded, "Yeah, I'm fine. Just have a bit of a headache."

Fiyero frowned, glancing at the textbook in front of you, "Well how long have you been working? Maybe it's time for a break."

"Only an hour. I'm fine."

He watched you with concern as you turned back to your work. You could practically feel him watching you, surely taking stock of the dark bags under your eyes, the unusual paleness of your skin, the way you suddenly couldn't seem to warm up.

"Have you taken medicine-"

"Yes. I do know how to take care of myself, Fiyero." There's a sharpness to your voice even you don't expect.

Even out of the corner of your eye you can see him frown, "I know that, darling, I know. You just don't look too good."

You let out a sigh, starting turn toward him again, "Fiyero-"

Before you could stop him, he was reaching out to press the back of his hand to your forehead, his frown deepening, "Darling, your burning up, what on earth are you doing studying?"

"The new assignment from Dr. Dillamond-"

"Isn't due for a week and a half! I mean honestly- Darling you should be resting-"

You stood up abruptly, even as it made stars dance in your vision, "I've been taking care of myself for a long time. I don't need your help, and I certainly don't need your pity, so please, fuck off."

Fiyero had stood and managed to catch your wrist before you could even make it three steps away, pulling you to turn back to him with a strange, desperate look on his face, "Who said this was pity?"

"Fiyero--"

"Who said this was pity?" He repeated, letting go of your wrist only to cup your cheek, his voice dropping, "I happen to genuinely care about your wellbeing, because believe it or not, I care about you, darling."

You closed your eyes for a long moment, trying desperately to turn away, "Fiyero..."

"You don't have to go through this, or anything else alone. Not anymore, not while I'm here," His hand drifted back to the back of your neck, gently turning your face back to him, "I'm right here if you'll just let me in."

Just like that, something in you seemed to break, and you were suddenly trying to blink away tears.

"Oh- Darling-"

"I'm sorry- I'm sorry-"

Fiyero began gently wiping away he few tears that had escaped and were trailing down your cheeks, "Hey, hey, don't apologize..."

"I'm just so tired- I can't shake this no matter what I do."

"Well, forcing yourself to be out and about certainly isn't helping," Fiyero turned, beginning to gather up your books and tuck everything away into your bag, "Come on, let's get you back to your dorm so you can get some rest."

When he took your hand, you didn't fight it, instead allowing yourself to be led along, out of the library. Outside, the cool air only seemed to worsen your chill, and Fiyero was quick to shrug off his jacket, tucking it around your shoulders.

The walk back to the dorms felt twice as long as your original journey to the library had taken, but eventually, you'd made it. Fiyero had coaxed you to lie down, and after all but forcing you to take another dose of medicine, tucked you into bed as if it were his life's mission.

You managed to catch hold of his hand as he turned to leave, whispering hoarsely, "Thank you, 'yero."

"Of course, darling," He smiled softly, leaning in to press a quick kiss to your forehead, "I'll come by and check on you in the morning, yeah?"

But the only response he got was the sound of your soft snores. Chuckling to himself, Fiyero pressed another kiss to your forehead, before backing out of your room.

~~~

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New Year, Same Us

Alfie Solomons x gn!reader

Trigger Warnings: Drinking

Summary: Ringing in the new year once more, with Alfie at your side.

{AKA new year, same bull shit}

Alfie watched from across the crowded floor, as you let out a bubbling and boisterous laugh, helping Ishmael's wife Helene -or maybe it was Henrietta, something with an H to be sure- pour glass after glass of champagne.

Business with the Shelby's aside, it had been a good year. Then again, Alfie thought, any year spent with you -fixing breakfast in the morning together, trips to the market side by side, and late nights spent tucked close together- was a good year.

The party too, he had to admit, in spite of his usual scorn for such things, was quite enjoyable. There had been dinner, reminiscing, many laughs, and even dancing.

When the band had struck up again after a dinner break, you had taken Alfie's hand, and refused to take no for an answer until he was twirling you across the floor. There'd been Fox Trots and Charleston's, and other new dances that he had learned, not because he cared much for them, but because of your bright smiles and never ending love of music.

One of the last songs before it was announced that there was only fifteen minutes to the new year had been a waltz, and Alfie had pulled you close, pressing his lips to your cheek, your temple, the corner of your mouth. And you, in your several drinks in, loose and free flowing state had giggled and giggled, a kind of music that was far sweeter to him than anything the band could play.

After the dance Hannah -yes, he was sure it was Hannah- had whisked you away to help with the final preparations for toasting the new year. Alfie had retaken his seat at one of the tables, but of course, he could never keep his eyes off of you.

That is, until Ollie had come up to congratulate him on something or another, and someone called out to give an announcement about the New Year being only a minute or so away, and Alfie lost sight of you in the crowd that surged up onto the floor.

He'd hardly gotten the chance to begin looking for you when you emerged from the crowd, two flutes of champagne in hand, smiling that bright smile, he loved so dearly, "There you are love! Nearly wasn't enough champagne for everyone -I don't know what Hen was thinking- but I nicked us the last two."

"Thank you, treacle," He said, taking one of the glasses, "Ready for the New Year?"

You grinned up at him, "I don't think I could ever be tired of new years with you."

"My thoughts exactly."

Somewhere at the front of the crowd, someone began counting down, and you joined in eagerly, leaning into Alfie's side when he wrapped an arm around you.

"Three... two... one.... Happy New Year!"

You turned, reaching to cup his cheek with your hand, whispering, "Happy New Year, Alfie, love."

The crowd around you had burst into cheers, and the band had already struck up again with Auld Lang Syne. Alfie leaned in, lips brushing your the way they had for countless New Years past.

"Happy New Year, Treacle."

[teddy06writes]

Long Day

Fiyero Tigelaar x gn!reader

Prompt: I'm tired and touch starved I don't need a prompt

Trigger Warnings: None

Summary: After a long day of boring lectures, insufferable classmates and nightmare group project assignments, you want nothing more than to curl up with your boyfriend within the sanctuary of your dorm.

(The wicked brainrot goes crazy)

{The dialogue is a little clunky but in my defense I worked a seven hour shift today}

You had resolved to never take a three hour lecture that started anytime past 4pm again long before this day, but the longer your professor droned on, the more certain of that choice you were.

The notebook in front of you was mostly bare, with only the most basic of notes scrawled across its surface. It took everything in you to keep your head up, instead of slumping down over the table as you so desperately wished you could.

You let yourself glance up at the clock that hung by the door. Only a few more minutes, and then you'd be free to join your friends in the dining hall, in the last few minutes before it closed.

By Oz, you were never taking another night class.

Finally, finally, your professor dismissed you, and you began to gather your things, all but running from the lecture hall.

By the time you arrived at your usual table, Elphaba, Galinda, Fiyero, were already nearly done with their meals. Nessa and Boq were just leaving to clear their plates as you slumped into your chair, dragging it closer to Fiyero so you could lean into his side.

"Hello darling," He pressed a chaste kiss to your temple, "Are you gonna make it?"

You let out a groan, "No, I'm dead already."

Galinda let out a chuckle, "Well, that's what you get for taking that god awful 5 o'clock lecture."

"My only other option was 8 in the morning. It was the lesser of two evils."

Elphaba smirked, "As someone in that 8am lecture, I'm not too sure."

You just let out another groan, sitting up enough to begin picking at the plate of food in front of you. Galinda went on chattering about something that happened with Madame Morrible earlier in the day.

Eventually, as dining hours came to a close, the four of you returned your dishes, and ventured back out toward the dorms.

Fiyero easily tangled his fingers with yours, pretending to think deeply on something for a moment, before turning to you, "Shall I be coming back to yours then?"

"Please?"

He smiled softly, leaning down to kiss your cheek mid stride.

No sooner had you gotten back to your dorm than Fiyero was pulling you to lie down beside him, wrapping your safely within his arms. Once your head was pillowed on his chest, he let out a hum, "Long day, Darling?"

"The longest." You sighed.

One of his hands began to lazily trace patterns up and down the length of your back, "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not really." You mumbled, tucking your face into the crook of his neck.

Fiyero humed in response, pressing a lingering kiss to the top of your head, his fingers still trailing their hypnotizing rhythm up and down your skin. Your eyelids grew heavier and heavier, and tucked against Fiyero, listening to the gentle sound of his heart beat, you couldn't fight it.

You were asleep within minutes. Fiyero smiled softly, burying his face in your hair, before joining you in the land of dreams.

~~~~

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Judith Clarke - The Outsiders

Name: Judith Irene Clarke

Gender: Female (She/her)

Sexuality: Straight

Date of Birth: October 31st, 1945

Age: 20

Personality: Kind, caring, intelligent, witty, gentle, quiet

Likes: Quiet Mornings, flowers, helping Ponyboy with homework, cooking, Leslie Gore

Dislikes: Loud noises, when the Gang gets rowdy, cleaning, rude customers

Occupation: Diner Waitress

Paring: Darry Curtis

~~ Pinterest Board

1963: Judith is a senior in high school, making plans for college, excited to finally be leaving Tulsa behind, with her long time best friend Darry Curtis by her side. Judith has always been different, but now she's sure that far away from Tulsa, she'll be able to find her place.

1965: Two years later, Judith's dreams of observatories and astronomy have long since been dashed, having dropped out of school within the first year. Now, after his parents tragic deaths, Darry is re-joining her in back in Tulsa. An expert in loss, Judith helps him to pick up the pieces.