#Most things seem to be Ok except for my boots and a corner of my desktop rug...

[lunarpanda]

My basement flooded...

[faegoddessog]

Day 20: what happens when he steals the covers

January's DDof AB @dailydoseofaustinbutler

Warnings: Mature Content 18+, petting, carresses, bits and bobs smooshed together.

Decided to put the cart before the horse here, 🎶let's get down to bidness, to fuck... someone🎶😈😉🤭

Peeps who may want to know! , @purejasmine, @slowsweetlove, @richardslady121, @austinbutlerslovers, @tadpoleteef, @allittakesisoneflight @thisworldisntrealhoney,  @1nho,  @megangovier, @briaandthephantoms, @andro-inherdreamworld @callumsgirl @blombardo  @fefeisastar @hacunamy @nestito702 @denised916 @jayydep @r0m4nitcl0v3r @heyidc03, @secondchild-2, @flander42 @natural-born-rebel-spirit @lecosymood @kathrynzaragoza @bsunshinexo @jayydep @ifyouloveweedletsgosmoke @peggyao3

“Plunk”... “plink”... “plink plunk”...

I mean, I was already in that nearly awake place of light sleep but it was the crack of thunder that woke me with a start. Even though the rain on the metal roof of the cabin was muffled by the attic, the big drops on the old gutters plinked and plonked their way to my ears no matter where I was in the house.   It wasn't actually a problem once the rain got thrumming  but those first few big drops of these summer rains always got my attention.

I took the opportunity to pee, my feet quietly padding on the thick, soft carpet.  It was a little chilly in the wee hours. We had arrived late last night and had barely had time to put away the groceries  before other things took priority. Other things that didn’t lend themselves to pajamas. Not like I wore clothes much at the cabin anyway.  

Lightning flashed through the sheer curtains as I made my way back to the soft, comfy bed I had insisted on buying. This cabin was my family's, but I was the only one who really used it on the regular anymore. A couple of hours out from the city and I had twenty wooded acres of pure, stark-naded paradise plus all the amenities of home to boot. 

I stopped at the foot of the bed, the quick flash of light revealing just what had happened to the covers I’d tossed back. He happened to them, all of them bundled into a mound around him with barely a corner for me to  warm my cold tootsies.  All I could see of him in the dim light was his mussed shock of blonde hair, dark in contrast to the clean white linens. Ok, maybe not that clean after last night’s exertions. 

How I had gotten here, I didn't quite know. But here I was and there was no way I was going to look this gift horse in the mouth. 

I was older. 

He was far prettier. 

I could have felt out of my league, except that he wouldn't let me. He made me feel like a goddess. He saw me,  the real me and it didn't scare him one bit. He seemed to love it, in fact and answered in kind with his authentic self. Like he could be anything but. 

What we were, beyond lovers, was undefined. We had met at a New Years bash and had ended up next to each other at midnight. He pulled me into the most incredible first kiss, despite the liquid courage we both had running through our systems. We watched the sunrise together drinking, get this, tea, fucking tea like victorians.   He called me the next afternoon and it wasn’t long after that we ended up in bed together.  A lot.  We gradually spent more and more time together. Honestly, it was natural and almost effortless. 

I think he liked being with me because I never pressured him to be something for me, didn’t talk about commitment or kids or being official. I liked him for him, not because he was a famous actor. All I wanted was him for as long as I could manage. 

I didn't shame him for being himself. If he needed some time alone to recharge, I didn’t worry that he was losing interest.  I wasn’t weird about it when he was on red carpets and seeming to flirt with the interviewers or fans. I knew he wasn't actually flirting, he was just being nice. 

I could relate. How many people in the past had assumed I was hitting on them when I too was just being nice? I used to say ‘you’ll know I'm flirting when I’m on your lap with my tongue in your mouth.’ 

What the casual observer didn’t understand was that he didn’t ‘flirt’ when he was actually interested in you; he surveyed, he weighed, then he pounced. 

What I had gleefully discovered was that once he had let down his guard, once he knew he could trust me and that I wasn’t gonna treat him like a prize; Austin Butler had the sex drive of a race horse in heat. 

And I fucking loved it. Now it may or may not be exacerbated by the plain fact that my sexual expertise, experience and drive was unmatched by his younger women partners of the past. Very little phased me and nearly everything about him turned me on. I had taken every single thing he had thrown at me and did nothing but as for more.  I think that was why he agreed to come with me for this week, to see if he could make me tap out. I’m doubtful, but we can only try.

I sighed at the end of the bed, I had no illusions about just how in love I'd fallen with him. Inevitable really. He had a way about him that made everyone he met feel like they were the only person in the world. Everyone fell in love with him, if only a little.

As the rain began in earnest,  I decided that trying to extricate my part of the sheets without waking him would be an exercise in frustration. Why not wake him in the best way? Plus it was getting cold out here and I knew he slept hot. With all my covers, how could he not! 

I snagged a couple  breath mints from the side table and popped one in my mouth. I palmed the other for him. Listen, I may be as horny as a he-goat, but I don’t put up with ‘morning breath’ from either of us. I like fresh mouths, clean bodies, and lots of naked skin.

I found an edge on his erstwhile burrito wrap and sidled my way next to his warmth. I savored every square inch of what turned out to be his back. 

Once I had cuddled up, seeming to have not disturbed his beauty slumber, I slid my hands lightly up and down his thighs. I knew it was soothing when he did it to himself. Go ahead, watch him in an interview, see what his hands do to his legs,  especially if he’s nervous.  But I had found out just how hard he got when someone else did it to him, or at least when I did.

I pressed soft kisses between his shoulder blades. He was taller than me, but being the big spoon definitely made me seem even shorter. I felt him stir almost immediately. His gravely “mmph” started the tell-tale tingle in my vagina. I let my hand roam up his hip, past his side and onto his chest. When it dipped dangerously close to his cock I could hear the ignition of his desire in his exhale. I let my hand  settle in the middle of his chest.

He shifted, pressed himself back into me and I hugged him tight. His torso expanded in a big breath and his spine arched in a stretch that expanded up his arms and all the way down to his toes, which somehow didn’t pop out the bottom of the blankets, despite his long leggedness. 

Sweet lord in heaven he was sexy, is there a better word? Luscious? Alluring? Downright provocative?  He rolled onto his back exhaling and managing to wrap one arm protectively around me. 

“Mmmm,” he growled, “Whatcha doin’ PussyCat.” He knows how much I like it when he calls me pet names. 

“Tryin’ to warm up, Tiger” I replied. 

“Come’ere,” he brought his other arm to my hip. I wrapped my leg over his, my cold toes wiggling in between his knees. 

“Geeze, baby,” he jerked at the ice cubes of my toes, “what’s got you so cold?” “You,” I answered, dragging my fingertips over his abs. If I happen to bump into his hard cock, well, the mores the better. 

“Makes no sense cuz you’re too hot for me,” he smiles with his eyes still closed. 

“True,” I agreed, even though he knows I don’t in one sense. Not that I don’t think I’m sexy, it’s just that nothing and no one is too hot for him. When he was conceived, the angels sang and demons howled,  I’m sure of it. In fact I’m not wholly convinced that he’s fully human. 

“But baby, you stole all the covers and it’s rainin’ outside.” Light flashed faintly and the thunder punctuated the sentence for me.

“Oh Pussycat, I’m sorry,  got a velcro hip,” I can hear the little pout his lips are making and all I want to do is kiss those perfect lush lips.

I caressed my way down the front of his thigh again. I can feel him shudder.

“Well, now you have to pay, Mr. Butler,” I ran my hand deliberately over his half hard cock. 

“Fffff,” his breath hisses in, “Oh no,” he murmurs in fake distress, “I don’t have any cash on me, will you accept goods and services?”

“You are so sexy when you talk business,” I quip.

“To be rendered immediately, of course,” he clarifies with a serious voice. 

“Hmm, well, if you mean these goods,” I cupped my hand in his crotch, “I accept. I do so enjoy a good servicing.”

“Oh Pussycat, get up here” he growled. His fingers dug into my flesh as he pulled me on top of that fucking gorgeous body that he worked so hard to maintain. My toes tucked under his thighs and I crunched on the mint in my mouth so he could hear. His mouth was already open and I thumbed the extra one between his lips. He knew me so well. 

His cock, hard now, was trapped in the pocket of warmth between us. I took great delight in feeling it against my belly, shifting side to side as he crunched his mint. He flexed against me, making himself twitch.

“Who knew that icy mint could be so sexy,” he comments.

Then his hand was on the back of my neck pulling me upwards, and his mouth on mine.

Austin has spoiled me with the quality of his kisses.  Always the perfect pressure,  perfect intensity for the situation at hand. Soft and light in public, gentle and slow just before he says goodbye, moderate and full of smiles when we see one another again. Each leaves my lips tingling like living kava. Here, now, in the quiet of the night,  his kiss was deep and demanding. His mouth is a sensual mix of exploring tongue and soft lips. This was my favorite of his kisses.

Sharp hip bones prodded my inner thighs.  If I wasn’t careful, I’d end up with bruises there… again. 

His rakish ass clenched and his hard shaft pressed against my spread labia.

“My God, are you already wet?” he whispered against my lips.

“You know I prefer Goddess, and yes I am,” my hips rocked against his hardness to emphasize my point.

‘Mmm, Vixen,” he groaned. 

[gotnothingbutyaoi]

Finally going through with explaining why OoT is so low on my list of Zelda game.

It's the best time now since I just finished doing my annual playthrough, because yes I do replay them annual and that for the past four years.

And will precise that I don't hate this game, that spot is reserved for Triforce heroes, it's just my least favorite one, after the tow wild era ones but that is for different reasons. I'll finish with a list my favorite things in this game.

First is that this game feel empty, there is side quests but mhe, the characters are interesting but you interact with them once and that is it even for important characters. The locations are ok, and yes I know it was the N64 but even Mario did more to put life in it's levels and MM exist and was done in less time than OoT.

Rupees are basically useless the only thing in the game you need to buy is the deku shield this is it, all the other things that you require to progress is given to you other then the silver scale for Ruto's letter which is ten rupees to play the diving game. So in all if you're not hundred %ing the game you need 50 rupees. Fun fact you don't need Epona, at least in the remake you don't, (I haven't played the original but fuck that that looks like a nightmare to use an N64 controller) the only place you would need her for is getting in the Gerudo fortress but you can just use the hookshot to cross the bridge. I mention this because the final reward for the golden skulltula quest is infinite rupees the most useless reward for this game where rupees are never an issue and there's rupees everywhere and nothing is all that expensive, don't bother with it.

The dungeons are ok, hot take I hate the forest temple and the Water temple is not confusing you where just a kid when you played it.

My favorite dungeon is the Spirit temple that is not a hot take that seem to be a common sentiment, I like the fact that the dungeon is plit in two part a child part and an adult one, but it give me an other gripe with this game the gauntlets, if play the game in the order that the game expect you to go through you get the silver gauntlets in the last dungeon before Ganondorf's Castle in which you get the golden gauntlets... right after you got the silver ones at the end of the game, they are basically useless except for like four checks, useless.

To explain why I hate the forest temple it's the because it's comprised of small corridors with a camera that doesn't like small corridors, rooms that takes away the camera controls from you for no reasons, the layout just annoys me for reasons I couldn't explain.

The Fire temple is fine I don't have anything to say about other than it looks nice and the puzzles are good, but Volvagia is so goofy with its arms that are not animated so they just stay stiff and go through her body all the time.

The Water temple as never been a problem for me not even on my first playthrough the only thing that give me trouble is shadow Link that's it, just do everything that is available on a level before changing the water level, and the boss is a joke you bullie it in to a corner and it can't do anything lol.

The shadow temple is there it exists, it's puzzles are boring for the most part, it's mini boss is Dead Hand the second coming now even easier to deal with, and Bongo Bongo is an absolute joke if you wear the hover boots it takes like six arrows to defeat it with the big Goron's sword. By the way I love how the introduction to the shadow monster is legit creepy for this game and then it turnout to just be Bongo Bongo the silliest of name for a monster that is silly, it plays a big bongo so let's call it Bongo Bongo lol.

The deku tree is a tutorial on dungeons and it does that well. Dogongo cavern is good at making you used to the combat system. Jabu Jabu teaches that switches comes in many forms, that you'r interactions can change the available routes in a dungeon and the use for stunning enemies.

And now for a general list of things I dislike in this game:

Epona's controls and jumps that don't work properly, energy balls volleyball twice, the camera, the uselessness of the golden skulltula quest, the gauntlets that you should have gotten earlier in the game to be of any use, bottom of the well in general, Stalfos in general are annoying, Keese(bats) Guay(Toukor in French) Leever(weird cactus? enemies in the desert) Peahat and Octorok all of them in every games.

And now on to the list of things I like in this game:

The music is great I genuinely love all of the ocarina songs, my favorite one being song of storms, the little quests you have to go on to get all of them are nice, from grave robbing to help Malon to causing properties damage, and I will say it I like Kaepora Gaebora he is not nearly as bad as people like to say he is, contrary to the howl in Link's Awakening I hate him, his theme is one of my favorites.

The sages are a good concept that could have been better, like them all being people Link know, Saria being Link's best friend was nice she was the one we interacted with the most, Darunia bieng a cool bro who just really wanted to save his people (I like the Gorons in general they're always my favorites), Ruto having a crush on Link and him just not understanding that was kinda funny, Impa was sadly not much of a character, Nabooru was an interesting character that gave us a small insight on how the Gerudos were before Ganondorf sure they are thiefs but they had honor because she mentioned that she is appalled by the fact that he and his followers are stealing from the weak and killing the innocent, and Rauru exist that's all the game tells us.

Sheik is a cool character but lead to some very bromancy moments because Link doesn't know that he is in fact Zelda, especially the scene where they're overlooking the Lake Hylia at sunrise. The guide I often use got this rong on it's first mention of Sheik saying she instead of him, Sheik is a male disguise it's supposed to be a revelation that he is actually Zelda so thanks guide for spoiling the revelation at the end of the game.

I like the mini games you can play for upgrades and heart pieces, their fun and get expended on in the sequel.

The stupid plans that Zelda makes that all backfired all of them, make Link open the door of time now the sacred realm is fucked, seal Ganondorf away he came back again and again, sand Link back in the past the world get flooded lol, she made so many bad decisions lol.

The town market, Kakariko village and Goron village are good I also like the weirdness of the laboratory and the crazy old man that live there.

In the end I do still like this game it's not my favorite by a long shot but it's still a nice game to come back to once a year, it was my second Zelda game after WW the game that I asked for and got TP instead and developed great memory with my aunt, the game that got me to play my favorite game of all time Majora's Mask, without this game I probably would've never gotten this deep into Zelda as a franchise and for that I thank this game.

[thora-jane]

Twin-Way Mirror (pt vi)

(a/n): Hey everyone. My mental health's getting a little bit better. These past few weeks I've had some depression/anxiety episodes but I think I might be on the better end of it now? I will say that the stories I post may be more spread out over time (I had a lot of this already written before I made the tumblr account, and I haven't had the time/energy to write more of the story. So like...idk thank you for your patience and understanding? anyway, I hope you enjoy this :)

Summary: Thanks to the Weasleys, you start to recover from the attack at the world cup

Word Count: 2,229

Warnings: mentions of blood and injuries, reader has a bit of a ptsd attack, also things get a little bit spicy but nothing nsfw.

TAGS!: @aliiiyyaaah @superblyspeedydragon @bamboozledflamplant

***

Someone was moving you. Everything was spinning. Mudblood. Mood. Blood. Mud and blood filled your mouth, swirling with bile and spit. Spit. Something smelled terrible, you smelled terrible. Reeking.

You felt a hand on your cheek. The pain stabbed across your face like a knife.

You bolted upright.

And screamed.

“Hey, hey hey hey it’s alright,” you heard George’s (or was it Fred’s?) voice through your ragged and panicked breaths, his hand placed gently on your back, “(y/n), we’re safe now, we’ve made it home.”

You finally looked around, you were on the couch in the burrow’s living room.

“Home?” You asked. You looked up, George was rubbing your back and Fred was sitting on the arm of the seat, eyes flitting back and forth between looking at you and down at his hands with what appeared to be shame. You looked back at the rest of the room, where the others had managed to find room standing and watching you, Harry and Ron stone-faced, Ginny with her jaw clenched, Hermione appeared to be on the brink of tears, Mr. Weasley looked awfully serious, and Mrs. Weasely was holding her muddied and bloodied hand to her chest, a damp rag in the hand at her side and fear on her face.

You felt your face gingerly, most of the caked on mud and blood had been smudged off, except for the grime around the large bruised and scarred lump on your face.

“Yeah, home,” George nodded again with a smile, “How are you feeling?”

You held your head in your hands, “Who was that?” You felt your eyes well up as you sat up more and looked down at the rest of your body, you were still covered in mud, and there appeared to be a boot print right in the middle of your shirt.

“Death Eaters,” Harry piped up from the back, “Voldemort’s followers. They stormed the campgrounds and-” He stopped, looking at you, “Sorry, I shouldn’t have…” His voice trailed off, and it took you a second to realize you were crying, the salty tears stinging the wound on your face.

“Oh it’s alright Harry,” you interrupted yourself with a shaky breath, “I don’t mind, keep talking-”

But Mrs. Weasley interrupted you, “Alright everyone, I think it’s best we give her some space. I’ll come back in a bit to help clean you up more, sweetie. Get some rest.”

The others filed out of the room quietly, but Fred and Geroge stayed beside you in silence, after a moment you sighed and bit back a smile. “I don’t suppose I look any better than either of you now, eh?” You chuckled, but it came out more like a twisted sob. George’s arm wrapped around your shoulder as he pulled you into a gentle sideways hug, “I wouldn’t say that. Why, look at Freddy over there, you could hardly believe we shared the same womb! He’s hideous!” He chuckled softly, squeezing your shoulder. You let out a wince at the pressure and he frowned, turning to you, “you’re in pretty bad shape, (y/n), but I doubt it will last. Is there anything we could do to help?

You looked back down at your crusted and soiled shirt, “A change of clothes would be helpful. And cleaning up doesn’t sound like the worst idea either.” you smiled, or at least offered what you could manage of a smile without hurting your face, “I’ll go get my clothes-” You started trying to get off the couch with a long and pained groan. Everything hurt, your stomach, your legs, your hand. And Merlin, you could barely move your wrist without tears pricking at the corner of your eyes.

George seemed to catch on, and he carefully eased you back onto the couch, “I’ll go get you a change of clothes. Stay here, alright?” he stroked the back of your head for a moment before getting up and leaving.

You and Fred sat in silence for a moment before nuding him with your foot, “Oi, I don’t think I’ve seen you this quiet since...well, I can’t remember.”

“(y/n)...I’m so sorry this happened.” He said, looking up at you hesitantly.

“Hey, it’s alright. We’re both here now, yeah?” you shifted in your spot on the couch, leaning forward as you tried to maintain eye contact, but he only looked away again.

“No, no (y/n) it’s not alright. I shouldn’t have let you out of my reach. I shouldn’t have let the crowd separate us, I should have forced my way back sooner-” his voice was dead serious, something that you hadn’t thought was possible before now.

“I don’t want you blaming yourself for this,” your voice was a little uneasy, you could feel it as you tried to keep your breathing steady, “Because I’m fine now. We’re home, you heard your brother-”

“No, but (y/n) you’re not fine!” he snapped, standing up and gesturing to your body in one big sweep of his arm, “They were going to kill you! And whose fault would that have been? It wouldn’t have been yours I can tell you that!”

“Freddie,” George’s voice was stern as he returned to the room, a change of clothes in hand, “Go get some things to clean up. What’s done is done and we can only start moving forward. I don’t think either of you are in a state to start pointing fingers,” He walked towards you on the couch as Fred went off to the kitchen, his hands balled into fists.

George knelt down beside you, brushing the hair from your forehead and dabbing at your lingering tears with the edge of his sleeve. “How are you feeling?” he asked, holding his hand under your chin carefully and examining your face.

“A bit banged up, surprisingly,” you quipped. You paused, looking down at the clothes in his hand, “So...should I change?” You looked back up at him, a bit embarrassed by your current lack of mobility.

“Oh! Yeah,” he agreed with a bit of a start, “You can’t quite be up and about right now, huh?” He glanced around the room before snatching the blanket off the back of the couch and holding it up in front of him as a curtain between you two, “I swear on Fred’s life I’m not going to move this until you say you’re done, and I will scream bloody murder if anyone walks in,” He delcared in what you assumed was a mock-stoic voice from the other side of the blanket.

You began to peel off your muddied pants and slide your sore legs into the new pair. It wasn’t until after you had them on that you realized how this unfamiliar stripey pair fit quite loose, “These aren’t mine?” you mumbled to yourself, and from the other side of the blanket you could hear George clear his throat.

“I uh...couldn’t figure out how to open your trunk so I..grabbed a pair of my pajamas. I promise they’re clean. I can get you yours later it was just...short notice and I didn’t want to be a bother-”

“It’s alright,” you assured him as you started to lift your shirt over your head, “At least they're clean- OW!” you felt a screaming pain stab it’s way through your wrist after you had managed to get one arm out of your sleeve.

“Are you ok?” His voice was nervous, and you saw the blanket shift beside your head-

“Oi!” You almost shouted, “Watch the blanket!”

“Sorry! Sorry,” you heard him mumble as the blanket lifted up a little bit, “I guess we’ll call it even from this morning.”

You had managed to carefully wrangle your way out of your shirt and pull one of the sleeves of George’s shirt before it dawned on you, “Oh Merlin, did you see me? Just now?” Your stomach twisted as you shrugged on the second sleeve and looked at the open front of the shirt, “Damn buttons.”

“If it’s any comfort, I only saw your shoulder. And I looked away as soon as I saw-” He stammered out nervously, as you gave the buttons down your front a calculated stare.

“Just...never bring this up again, yeah?” You muttered mostly to yourself before your first attempt at buttoning up your shirt. But your try was unsuccessful, pain twisting the muscles and bone in your wrist as your right hand went to try and help the button through the hole. You let out a faint gasp of pain, and from the other side of the blanket you heard George shift his stance awkwardly.

“Do you need any help?” he piped up from his side.

You paused, sighing as you carefully moved the shirt to cover your front without buttoning it, “If I must. But if you try to pull something then so help me Godric the second I get my wand back you’re dead.” He let the blanket fall to the floor and his hands flew up to his face, squinting through his fingers. It was clear he was trying to lighten the mood as he perched himself on the edge of the couch. You chuckled at his efforts and reached for one of his hands with your good one, placing his fingertips on the buttons of his shirt, “You don’t have to do it with your eyes closed, dimwit.”

George smirked, opening his eyes slightly and making it clear he was staring directly at the buttons he was fastening, “Y’know, I don’t usually do this for folks,” he smiled looking back up at you with a dramatic wink. His eyes stayed latched to yours as he worked his way up the trail of buttons, making a point to not stare at your chest.

“Oh? This isn’t a regular occurrence between you and your roommates? You don’t sit in a circle helping each other tie your ties each morning? You don’t fix Fred’s hair and make sure Lee’s robes are nice and straight?”

George laughed, “Keeping Lee’s robes straight is Fred’s job.”

“Well someone ought to tell him he’s not doing a very good job of it, Lee’s robes wouldn’t stay smooth unless he used a charm,” you sighed, a weak smile lingering on your face.

“Oh! That reminds me,” George reached into his pocket and pulled out your wand, “managed to get it out without a scratch!” He tucked it into your messed-up hair and smiled, “Good as new!” His hand lingered on the side of your face, carefully touching the area around the swollen and bruised gash for just a moment, “You don’t look that bad, really. A little roughed up but give it some soap, water, magic, and time, you’ll be back to your wonderfully-faced self,” his voice was encouraging, but your thoughts had drifted off to elsewhere.

“Oh my god, you took on a Death Eater.” You blurted out, eyes widening, “Are you ok? Did he get you at all? Are you alright?” Your hand reached for his face, there was a scratch just below his cheek bone but other than that and a few smudges of mud he appeared fine,

“I’m alright, (y/n), really,” he patted your hand.

“Oi, I got you out of there too, y’know.” Fred interrupted from the doorway, “Where’s the worry for me?”

“Oh my god, Fred!” Your voice was startled as you scrambled off the couch and stumbled across the floor over to him. He had just barely managed to set down the bowl of water and sponge before you practically collapsed in his arms, “are you alright? What on earth were you two thinking? Running into danger like that? You could have gotten yourselves killed!” You winced at the pain pulsing through your body, but you only hugged Fred tighter. After a second you let out a muffled sob into his chest and you could feel his arms wrap around you, patting your back.

“But it’s alright,” you heard him whisper, “You said it yourself, we’re home,” He placed a kiss on the top of your head, and you could feel another body hug you from behind.

“We’re here, (y/n). Now c’mon, it’s late and you should get some sleep,” You felt George lean down and kiss your cheek before helping you shuffle back to the couch and wipe the last bit of mud from your face.

***

You woke up the next morning feeling sore, but minimal agony in comparison to the night before. As you opened your eyes, you realized you were face-to-chest with one of the twins. You figured the two of you had slept on the couch the night before. As you poked your head out from behind his shoulder, you saw the other twin asleep in the chair. Neither of the boys had changed their clothes from yesterday, and you looked down to see the large gold “G” against a green sweater, with its sleeves wrapped around your waist, pulling you close.

“Mmm, (y/n), are you up?” George murmured, his eyes not opening.

You smiled softly at his warm embrace, “No George, go back to sleep,” you whispered, laying down again with your head against his shoulder.

“Of course, sweetheart,” he nodded, barely awake as he pulled you closer and nuzzled his face into your hair with a sleepy sigh.

[artzee-bee]

Vanilla and strawberries| Mazikeen x cottagecore!Reader

Fandom: Lucifer

Summary: Maze and cottagecore!reader have breakfast together

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: None

~~~

Sure, Maze had never been to your house before and sure, you were a big softie in your floral mini dressed and puff sleeved blouses but a cottage in the middle of nowhere? You chose to live here? Of all places? It seemed inconvenient to say the least, the closest town being a 30 minute car ride away .

The house in itself was an old, rustic cottage. The brick walls were ornate with white trims for the windows and wallflowers that Maze didn’t know the name of but could already hear you in her head, picking up every individual one between your little fingers and telling her all about them. She smiled at the thought. A little pathway led her to your front door, which looked like something out of a fantasy novel: circular at the top, with a flower crown for decoration. Somewhat unsure, she knocked on your door and soon enough, you answered. Dressed in a light pink summer dress, flowy, but tight in the waist, you were as beautiful as ever, if not more beautiful in the morning light.

“Maze! You came!” you said, wrapping your arms around her waist and pulling her into a hug

“Of course. What else could I have possibly been doing if not breakfast with my favorite girl?” you giggled. It wasn’t often that your girlfriend allowed herself to be soft and cutesy, so cheesy things like that meant more to you than they would have any other time, coming from anyone else.

“Come on in! I have almost everything set up.”

Your excitement was intoxicating and even though Maze felt out of place a minute ago, in her tight leather pants and black top, she forgot all about it when she saw your smile and heard the joy in your voice. It just reminded her again of why she loved you so much: you were the kindest, most positive person she knew and you helped her change for the better too.

“Take your shoes off please, I’ll bring you a different pair” you said, already searching frantically around the house. By the time Maza finished unzipping both her boots, you came back with a pair of bunny slippers, white and fluffy, looking brand new. A cheeky smile on your face suggested you knew that Maze would never normally wear anything like that but you still tried. To your surprise, she took them from your hands carefully and slipped them on

“How are they?” Maze made a few steps, looking down at them, examining everything from the pearly eyes of the bunnies to the puff ball at the back, imitating a tail

“Cozy?” she said unsure, making you laugh

“Come!” you grabbed her hand and led her down the hall and through the kitchen.

The kitchen was a mess, the counter was full of egg shells and spilled milk.  An opened bag of sugar was sitting way too close to the edge and a gold spoon with pink details was peeking from the top. 

You let go of Maze’s hand, going to grab two mugs from the cabinet, except when you turned around, you catch her playing with the dead rose petals that had fallen from the bouquet you had on the table

“Oh, yes.” you say “Should have cleaned those up a while ago” Maze laugh

“Is this the one I gave you?” she said, pointing at the few roses still alive in your vase

“Yeah. From our last date”

“In that case I can’t believe they survived this long”

“I take good care of them” Maze gave you a sweet smile . She was looking at you with love and compassion and you felt yourself melt under her gaze

“I know you do” Maze wrapped her arm around your waist and brought you closer to her, wrapping you in a  tight hug. Your arms linked around her waist and your head rested on her shoulder. You inhaled her strong perfume, which reminded you of Lux. Of the dark and the people and the booze. It had never been your scene, until you found Maze. Now you felt a certain thrill when you thought about that place

“You know” you said “If we don’t go now the bees might get to our breakfast first” Maze giggled and nodded, allowing you to take her hand and lead the way. You wrapped your fingers around hers and pulled her up the stairs and through your bedroom. 

Your bedroom looked just as Maze imagined it. The peach colored walls were covered in drawings and prints of flowers and artwork. Vines were spread out across the ceiling, little paper butterflies peeking from in between. Almost every corner, desk and chair in the room held a little potted plant. Right in front of her was your little balcony. You had two chairs and a little table there. As she approached, she couldn’t help but be mesmerized by the endless field that was (partly) your back yard.

“It’s so pretty” she said, without even thinking much about it

“I know” you replied “You should see the sunset”

“I want to”

“You could stay tonight?” you replied nervously, praying to God she will say yes because you could not think of a better way to spend your night

“I will'' Maze replied enthusiastically. You couldn’t help the smile on your face, but you needed to focus back on setting up the table.

For the first time, Maze looked at the table you had prepared for them. It was filled to the brim with all sorts of food. Maze saw eggs and bacon and pancakes and a whole platter of cheeses. You prepared tea and fruits and all kinds of jams. Maze was amazed at how many things you were able to fit on there, but she was excited. She couldn’t remember the last time she ate anything other than take out and knowing you put so much work and effort into this breakfast, just because she was coming over, made Maze want to cry on the spot. She’s never felt this welcome anywhere before!

You two dug into everything. Maze loved hearing the excitement in your voice talking about the process of cooking everything on the table. She loved hearing about your painting and the interesting new book you were reading, by some philosopher with a funny name that you were really interested in. She didn’t exactly care for philosophy, she knew everything she needed to know, about life and death, but hearing you talk and watching all your exaggerated hand gestures was a kind of heaven she was never used to. She loved you. She’d told you that before but everytime felt like the first for her. The same nervous gitter and the anxious pit in her stomach, making her wonder if you were going to say it back. You always did. She watched the wind play with your hair and the bows on your sleeves, and felt the need to jump into your arms and kiss you softly. Feel the heat of your body and taste your coconut chapstick but instead, she scooted her chair closer to yours, just enough to reach out to hold your hand. It was warm and soft and Maze thought that if she wasn’t careful enough she might cut you with one of her rings. 

You asked her about Lux and Lucifer and she told you everything there was to know. About Lucifer and Decker’s new relationship drama and about Linda and her baby and how much Maze wanted to hang out with the little baby more but she was afraid

“Afraid of what?” “That I will hurt him. Or that he might hate me and cry. I’ll scare him and we’ll never grow up to be friends”

“Maze, what are you even talking about?” your giggle was soft and full of good intentions “You are not as horrible with kids as you think you are, ok? Take Trixie for example”

“Trix is much older”

“Still a kid though. And she loves you” Maze couldn’t argue with you on that

“Look” you said, seeing that your girlfriend was still lost in thoughts, “ How about I give you some tips?”

How many of those tips actually stuck to Maze was up to debate but the sound of your voice was engraved in her head and in her heart and if she could listen to it everyday for the rest of her life, she would. She couldn’t help herself from reaching out every once in a while to kiss your lips. You tasted like vanilla and strawberries and your palm was cold against the back of Maze’s neck. When it got windy out, you brought a big knitted blanket from inside, and wrapped it around the both of you. Maze rested her head on your shoulder and tried to take in every little detail about that moment. She’ll need it when she replays this whole scene in her head, once she gets home.

[duffs-shot-glass]

I Won't Tell (Axl Rose)

I Won’t Tell

Axl Rose x Reader

Fluff, Angst??

WARNINGS: profanities

Word Count: 1,597

Y/N’s POV:

The sun’s bright rays shone down on me through the window. I opened my eyes slightly and looked at my alarm clock. 8:30 AM. Fuck. Izzy would be picking me up at 9:00 to meet his band. Instantly I threw the covers off of my body and sat up on the bed. The cold air rushed over my legs giving me goosebumps. I put on my fuzzy black slippers and trudged into the bathroom across the hall. There were hygiene products all over the white marble counter. I was putting the finishing touches on my makeup when I heard the doorbell ring. I dropped my makeup brush on the counter and rushed to the door.

I turned the golden doorknob and opened the door to see Izzy. His lanky figure stood before me. He was wearing black jeans and a purple button up shirt. The first few buttons were undone and he had cowboy boots. “Hey Y/N! You ready?” I looked down at myself and then back at him with a questioning look. “Iz?” “Yeah?” “I’m still in my pajamas,” he laughed slightly. “Oh right. Haha” I rolled my eyes and walked back into the bathroom. Izzy closed the door and sat on my couch in the living room. I picked up the makeup on the counter and brushed my teeth. On the way to my bedroom I saw Izzy in my kitchen. “Izzy!” I yelled through the house. “What?!” He yelled back. “No beer! You have to drive a car, remember!” I could hear the annoyance in his voice when he responded. “Fine.” I laughed to myself before looking at the outfits I had to choose from. My eyes landed on a skirt. I never wore skirts unless it was a special occasion. I would always complain that my jeans were more comfortable. I had never met any of the boys in the band except for Izzy and I wanted to make a good impression. I took the skirt out of my dresser and sat it on my bed. It was black with small white flowers on it and it dropped to about five inches above my knees. I looked in my closet and found a white crop top. This would match nicely. I got dressed and walked out of the bedroom. Izzy’s eyes widened when he saw me. “What- I mean why um” he cleared his throat, “why are you uh wearing that Y/N?” I smiled at his shock. “Just wanted to make a good first impression.” I said as I headed towards the door of my apartment. Izzy followed me out the door and to his car. “Yeah good first impression my ass Y/N. Listen I have one rule ok just one rule.” He opened the driver’s side door and hopped in the car. I got into the passenger's seat and the car started. “Ok Iz. What?” I buckled my seatbelt and we started down the road. “You are not allowed to have any romantic shit with any of these assholes you understand?” He took his eyes off the road for a moment to look me in the eyes. “Ugh. Fine Izzy whatever the hell you want.” I rolled my eyes and looked out the window. Izzy knew I was joking but I couldn’t lie. It might be nice to be in a relationship. Izzy turned the radio up and we listened to various rock bands on the way there. The car stopped when we reached a small house. “Alright well this is it.” He said as he pulled the keys out of the car. “Whose house did you say this was again?” I said looking at the house out of my window. “Oh uh Axl’s. Come on, let's go inside.” He stepped out of the car and waited for me to follow. When we got to the porch of the house Izzy knocked on the large black door. When the door opened there was a man standing there. He was tall. Extremely tall. He had blonde hair and a bottle of vodka in his hand. “Izzy!” He cheered as he pulled Izzy into a ‘bro hug’. “Who is the chick?” My eyes widened slightly at the nickname. What had I gotten myself into. “Duff this is Y/N. Y/N this is Duff.” Izzy smiled widely as I shook hands with the tall blonde apparently known as ‘Duff’. I muttered a “hello” to the man as Izzy led me past him and into the house. In the living room was a couch and a coffee table. On the couch sat another blonde, not as tall as the first one though. He grinned widely at me and waved like a little child. I giggled slightly at his friendliness. Next to him on the couch was another man. He had a mop of dark curls on his head and was downing a bottle of Jack Daniels. Izzy told me to socialize and walked into the living room joining the other two. I on the other hand felt quite uncomfortable being there and decided to wander about. I walked into the kitchen and picked up a partially empty beer bottle. Hopefully this is just beer. I took a swig of the liquid and yes. Thankfully it was just beer. I wandered the house a little bit more, and stumbled upon an empty bedroom. Inside were the traditional things. A bed, nightstand, dresser, but one thing drew my attention. In the corner of the room, next to a window, was a desk. I

walked up to the desk and observed the papers laying on top. There was paper after paper of writings. When I looked closer I realized something. They were song lyrics. I read the lyrics and was taken back by how good they were. I was about to pick up one of the papers when I heard a voice from behind me. “What are you doing in here?” The voice wasn’t mad or upset, just curious. I shakily turned around to see a man with long red hair. His eyes were the most beautiful shade of green, and his smile was astonishing. “I- uh..I’m sorry I was just leaving.” I tried to scurry out of the room but the man stopped me. “Hey it’s ok you don’t need to be nervous.” He touched my shoulders lightly and looked into my eyes. “I’m Axl by the way.” He now reached his hand out for me to shake. I took his hand in mine and looked into his eyes. “Y/N” I said. A smile creeped onto his face as he looked behind me. “So you were reading my lyrics huh?” He chuckled airily. “Your lyrics?” He walked to the desk and picked up a piece of paper. “Yeah I wrote 'em a little while ago.” He looked down at the paper. “They’re lovely.” I said, now standing next to him. His eyes met mine and I got goosebumps. “Thanks sweetheart.” I felt a blush creeping onto my cheeks from the nickname. He looked up and laughed slightly. “You like the nickname huh?” I looked down almost ashamed. “Hey it’s alright you don’t have to be embarrassed” he said. He used his finger to lift my chin. I looked into his eyes and melted. He was so beautiful. I usually didn’t call men beautiful but he was. His face inched closer to mine and I could feel my heart beating at an extreme rate in my chest. He stopped when his face was just an inch away from mine. “Axl?” I said. He was staring at my lips when he answered. “Yes?” He had lowered his voice and it felt intoxicating. “We… we can’t do this.” I said and backed away from him. He looked at me with sad eyes. “Why? I thought you...I thought you felt the same.” He furrowed his brow. I did feel the same. I really did. But what about Izzy’s rule? I wasn’t allowed to be romantic with any of the members of the band. “I do Axl.” I hugged him. He hugged me tightly and sat his chin on my head. “Then why? Why can’t we be together?” I looked up at him. “Izzy said I’m not allowed to be with any of you.” Axl nodded his head. “Y/N trust me Izzy will get over it and besides you're a grown woman! You don’t have to listen to what Izzy says.” His green eyes darted between my Y/E/C ones. There were no words to describe how much I wanted to kiss the man in front of me. He was perfect. A perfect example of..well..perfect. I couldn’t handle it anymore. I pressed my lips to his lightly. Axl was shocked at first but then began to kiss me. The kiss was soft and slow, but so full of desire. He slid his tongue over my bottom lip asking for entrance which I happily obliged. Our tongues fought for dominance, but of course he won. He continued to kiss me, but my heart seemed to jump out of my chest when I heard the door behind me open. I broke away from Axl and turned to look and see who it was. Standing there in the doorway was a curly haired man with a top hat. Axl began to speak, “Slash plea-” but slash cut him off. “Don’t worry Ax...I won’t tell Izzy.” The man smirked devilishly and walked out of the room, closing the door behind him.

Hello! ~ Thank you for reading this imagine! I hope you liked it! Have a great day and remember you are beautiful! :) ♥︎

[invisibleanonymousmonsters]

no grave can hold my body down – 2/2

Character: Jason Todd x Fem!Reader

Summary: It took time to get Jason Todd away from the darkness. Sometimes it felt like he was always standing at a tipping point, at risk of completely losing himself. But not when he was with her. She made him better and she would continue to make him better.

Word Count: 9,000

A/N: I know there are a lot of contradicting opinions on Jason Todd’s height. But for my own wish fulfillment, he is 6′3/6′4ish in this fic. 

Part 1

Y/N had fallen asleep after getting home from work. She had a long day and was so exhausted that she passed out as soon as she sat down on the couch. Jason had to take off her heels and drape a blanket over her.

Now he was dressed in his armored undershirt, cargo pants, leather jacket, and tactical boots. His red helmet was tucked under his arm, but he was already wearing a domino mask. If Bruce had taught him anything, it was to be prepared to a point of paranoia.

He crouched down to his knees.

Ever so gently, he brushed Y/N’s cheek.

“Y/N,” he whispered.

She stirred and winced a bit when she opened her eyes, the glare of the quiet television was suddenly harsh.

“What’s going on?” She asked, still half asleep.

“Nothing. Go back to sleep. I just wanted to tell you I’m leaving to go on patrol.”

“Mhmm. OK.” She hummed. “Be careful, J.”

If Y/N ever found out how un-careful the Red Hood was, she would never sleep and she’d probably beg Jason to quit his vigilantism.

“I love you,” he told her before kissing her on the forehead.

“Love you, too,” she said back so dreamily that it sounded like she was talking in her sleep.

Jason slipped out of the window. He purposely chose this apartment due to the direction the windows faced, the distance from approximate apartments, and the darkness that would prevent any wandering eyes from the neighbors.

He’d been patrolling for a few hours. It was oddly a quiet night. He assumed it had to do with how cold it was outside. Sometimes criminals were weak in the most obvious ways.

Jason was standing on a rooftop, taking a breather when he felt someone drop behind him. He knew his family all too well and could differentiate all of their footsteps. Which was why he didn’t immediately shoot Dick when he thought he’d try and surprise him.

“So, Y/N was quite the hit…” Dick said without giving Jason a proper greeting first.

“What are you still doing in town?” Jason answered.

Dick sighed. “B still needs a little help on the case.”

Jason nodded, not actually caring why Dick was still in Gotham. 

Then an awkward silence washed over them. Well, Dick thought it was awkward. Jason couldn’t care less. 

“Why won’t you talk about her with us?” Dick’s teasing was gone and his tone serious now.

Jason turned his head away from the city view and finally acknowledged his brother. “You don’t need to know anything about her,” his helmet distorted his words to make them sound even harsher than they already were.

“Doesn’t seem like she completely shares that view.”

Jason didn’t respond. He didn’t appreciate Dick speaking on Y/N’s behalf.

“Bruce seems to like her,” Dick added.

Jason’s head snapped to him. “As if I give a fuck,” he snapped.

Dick had the audacity to laugh. “How did the two of you meet anyway? She was living in New York City when the two of you first met, right?”

“Jesus,” Jason growled. “Did all of you run a background check on her?”

Dick shrugged. “What did you expect?”

————

Y/N didn’t have any idea where she was going. With the sun having already set, she couldn’t even figure out what direction she was headed.

But she had typed the address to her hotel into the Uber app and trusted it from there. She was also too preoccupied still answering the dozens of work emails on her phone.

“Hey lady, we’re here,” the driver said rudely after she didn’t realize they had stopped.

“Oh, sorry!” She said, writing the last few words of a sentence before pressing send.

She jumped out of the car and yelled a thanks before slamming the door shut.

To her surprise, the car raced off without a second’s hesitation.

But when Y/N turned around, she realized she was definitely not in the right place. And for the first time throughout the drive, she realized she was definitely in a bad area.

Y/N heard all of the terrible things about Gotham. Sometimes she wondered if the things about all of the crime were exaggerated by the news or if the city was really rotting from the inside like everyone said. What she definitely didn’t believe in was all the vigilantes that seemed to be protecting the city. No one could ever offer up any proof, even with every single human having a video camera in their hands at all times.

But now she wishing she’d taken people’s warnings a little bit more seriously.

This was definitely not Gotham Heights, where her nice hotel was located.

“Fuck,” she muttered as she whipped out her phone and instantly tried to call another Uber. But the app was being finicky and she was getting a loading screen for far too long.

Then she heard a group of men whistle at her. The streets were filled with literal dumpster fires. There were countless inoperable cars with broken windshields and without wheels. The only women she spotted looked like they were working the streets.

‘Walk, Y/N. Just walk. Act like you know where you’re going.’ Her brain was screaming at her.

So she did while remaining on high alert.

No matter how much she pretended to blend in, she was obviously out of place and sticking out like a sore thumb.

Her heart was racing and she tried to walk as fast as she could without fully running. She just hoped to get to a main street soon and try to catch a yellow cab, since apparently all her car-service apps decided not to work.

But suddenly, a man stepped onto the sidewalk, blocking Y/N’s path forward.

“You lost, sweetheart?” He cooed.

Y/N stopped and started backing away. But when she turned around, she saw that two men were waiting behind her.

“No need to be scared,” the same men said behind her, closer this time. “We just want to talk.”

‘Fuck this,’ Y/N thought before she decided to make a run for it.

But one of them grabbed her and shoved her to the side, pushing her into the alleyway she hadn’t realized they were right next to.

It was so dark that she could hardly make out the silhouettes of her attackers. But that wasn’t going to stop her from fighting. She immediately tried to shove past anyone in her vicinity and hit whoever was grabbing her.

“Get the fuck away from me!” She screamed, hoping that there was someone in this poisoned city that would try and help her.

Except she was outnumbered by three men, which ended in her getting shoved up the brick wall that lined the alley.

“I don’t have any money,” she gasped as a last ditch effort to save herself.

“Who said we wanted your money?” One of them chuckled darkly.

Before their words could hearten Y/N to try another defensive attack and escape, there was a strange zipping sound that echoed down into the alley.

Next thing Y/N knew, the man that was pressed up against her and pinning her to wall was flung off.

Y/N gasped and tried to get her eyes to adjust to the darkness enough so she could actually see what the hell was happening.

“It’s the hood!” One of the men yelled to his friends before making a run for it.

Then a gun was fired off – two shots.

Y/N yelped at the noise and covered her ears.

But when she looked back up, the man who had tried to escape was now on the ground, screaming in pain as he looked down at both of his knee caps that had been shot.

When Y/N turned her attention to the other two men, she finally saw who had interrupted their assault.

It was a man – if that was even what he was – dressed in military gear of some sort. But what really caught her attention was the red helmet that was reflecting the night light and allowing her to actually follow what was happening.

Y/N watched as he punched the daylights out of one of her attackers. She saw the man’s face get more and more covered with blood with each punch.

If Y/N was scared before, she was now terrified.

Without hesitating any longer, she too made a run for it, hoping she wouldn’t be shot like the other runaway.

She sprinted around the corner. But she only got a few yards before the same behemoth landed in front of her.

He was tall, and had to be at least 6’3. Men were confusingly short in New York, so Y/N was still trying to wrap her mind around having to tilt her head slightly up. But then she realized it wasn’t even his height that was jarring; it was how utterly hulking he was. His shoulders were so wide and his chest was massive. His thighs seemed to be the same width has her entire torso.

Everything about him was intimidating and imposing.

“I gotta give you credit for being that fast while wearing heels,” he said to her as he glanced down at her shoes.

It wasn’t exactly comforting that his voice seemed to also be distorted by the helmet.

Y/N was frozen in fear, truly not knowing what he was capable of or even what he wanted.

“You can relax. I’m not gonna hurt you,” he told her with his hands raised. His guns were no longer in his grip, but in their holsters at his thighs.

“You just killed three men,” Y/N told him with a shaky voice as she took a step back.

“I didn’t kill them. But if you want me to, I’d be happy to go back there and finish the job.”

“What? No!” Y/N cried out.

He had the audacity to chuckle at her reaction.

“Where exactly did you think you were going?” He asked her.

“This whole damsel-in-distress thing is new for me. But I thought it made sense to run away from the guy who was shooting people,” she told him quickly.

Jason was grateful that his mask hid all his emotions and facial expressions, because he was smiling at her sass.

He looked her up and down, taking in her outfit and just her overall look. “You’re not from around here, are you?”

“What gave me away?”

He shrugged, ignoring the question. “What the hell are you doing in The Bowery? This is the most dangerous neighborhood in Gotham.”

“My Uber dropped me off here. I thought I was at my hotel and by the time I figured out I wasn’t, my driver had already sped away and left me for dead.”

He took a step toward her. “What’s a gal like you doing in Gotham?”

“I work for an art gallery in New York. But there was an event that I had to attend. I’ve been here all weekend.” 

Why was she telling him any of this?

Jason nodded in understanding. “Come on,” he told her.

“W-What?” She asked nervously.

“You’re not gonna get a car in this area. You should report the driver who brought you here in the first place. He knew better.”

He walked past her.

Y/N looked around her, trying to figure out if she even had any other option. She knew he was right about a car, which was probably why she’d gotten a loading screen for all of them when it realized her location.

Yes, he was technically a masked criminal. But he did just save her life, no matter how terrifying it was to watch.

Y/N decided she didn’t have much of a choice.

Before she could move, a motorcycle was being pulled up alongside her.

Y/N eyed it for a moment.

“What’s your name?” She asked him, as if it would make the situation any safer.

“Red Hood,” he told her.

Y/N nodded, not surprised that it didn’t make her feel any better. She realized she was in no position to ask for his real identity. She knew enough about vigilantes to understand that they only survived from hiding their true selves from the criminals they fought and the law enforcement who thought what they were doing was wrong.

“Where are you staying?” He asked her.

“Crest Hill Hotel,” she told him.

“Fancy,” he teased. “Hop on.”

Y/N hesitated before following his instructions. She sat awkwardly on the back of the motorcycle, unsure of what to do.

“You’re gonna want to hold on, beautiful.” He told her over his shoulder as he revved the engine.

Y/N tried to ignore the heat that rushed to her face as he called her ‘beautiful,’ and then she tried to ignore how wide and strong his torso felt as she reached to hold on.

It took 20 minutes to get to her hotel, proving that the Uber driver really hadn’t given a crap about how incorrect her original address had been.

Jason had decided to drop her off in the back entrance to avoid a scene of the infamous Red Hood dropping off an average citizen. He didn’t need that type of attention and Y/N shouldn’t be tied to him in any way.

Y/N got off the motorcycle with a surprising grace and turned to him.

“Thank you for…saving me,” she told him gently.

“It was nothing,” he told her.

Y/N just watched him for a moment, wondering what he looked like under that red helmet and without all the armor.

“What’s your name?” He surprised her by asking.

“Y/N. Y/F/N Y/L/N.” 

She didn’t know why she felt comfortable giving her surname. But it just came out.

“Nice to meet you, Y/N. Though, I wish it had been under better circumstances.”

Y/N suddenly dug into her purse, making sure she still had her phone and even just the key to her hotel room.

“Fuck,” she muttered without realizing it.

“What is it?” Jason asked.

“Nothing. I just…it sounds stupid, but I have a little notebook to write down ideas for – well, for my artwork. But it must’ve fallen out back in that alleyway when those guys shoved me against the wall.”

When she looked up at him, it was impossible to know what he was thinking.

“Anyways, thank you again.” She turned to finally walk away.

“Y/N?”

She shouldn’t love how much she loved the sound of him saying her name.

Y/N turned around.

“Stay close to the hotel. Gotham is different than New York City.”

She nodded.

————————

“So, when did you see her again?” Dick questioned after he listened to Jason’s retelling.

“I was helping out a friend with a job in NYC. Things got ugly. I may or may not have been shot when I showed up at her window. Her apartment was in the area and I needed a place to lay low.”

Dick laughed. “Uh huh. Sure you did.”

Jason ignored him. “Anyways, I’d gone back to the alley that night and found that notebook she was talking about, and gave it to her to make up for bleeding all over her couch.”

“Always the romantic,” Dick teased.

Their conversation came to a halt. Instead of talking, they both listened to the city noises that Gotham brought.  

“Listen, Jason, I know I did a poor job of being there for you and actually acting like a brother. And I also know you haven’t always been my biggest fan.”

Jason stayed quiet.

“But you deserve to be happy. And we both know Y/N does that.” Dick sighed. “But you don’t talk about her with us and you kept her from even just meeting us after years of you two dating. If we weren’t all noisy and paranoid, we wouldn’t know a thing about her.”  

“What’s your point, Dick?” Jason asked roughly.

“No one ever wants to acknowledge this, especially you…but you’re more like Bruce than any of us. And you’ve seen how he pushes people away, keeping them at a distance. Y/N wants to be a part of your life, your whole life. And that includes all of us – whether you like it or not. So, what I’m saying is you don’t have to hide her from us.”

Dick knew not to expect a response from Jason. So he left him where he found him and gave him his space once again.

Jason didn’t have anything to say anyway. 

Dick’s words made him angry more than anything. Because he knew they were true. Yes, he saw how Bruce behaved with women. It was promiscuous and casual, because anything else was too close for comfort. Bruce’s priority would always be Batman. And Bruce knew that no significant other deserved his lack of commitment – no matter how much they might love each other.

—————

Y/N was doing her nightly routine and applying moisturizer to her face when she heard it. She could be acting paranoid, but her instincts were telling her something was off. 

No, someone was here.

Jason made a point of being loud and immediately announcing when he got home as to not scare her. So, it couldn’t be him.

As quietly as possible, Y/N tiptoed out of the bathroom and to her side of the bed where she kept a titanium baseball bat. Jason had offered her multiple times to teach her how to shoot a gun. But Y/N wanted nothing to do with them.

With the bat in hand, Y/N snuck her way to the living room where she heard the sound.

She had turned off all the lights, making it hard for her to see clearly.

But she did see a large mass standing in the middle of her living room. With just a bit of hesitation, Y/N swung the bat. But the intruder caught the bat, stopping her attack.

They stepped into the moonlight, finally allowing Y/N to see that it was Batman in his full uniform, cowl still on.

“What the fuck. Are you trying to give me a heart attack?” Y/N snapped at him.

“I apologize. I didn’t mean to startle you,” Bruce defended.

But Y/N was still irritated. “Jason isn’t here.”

“I know. I came to talk to you.”

She froze. “Me?”

“I need a favor.”

Y/N narrowed her gaze. “I highly doubt I could do anything to help you.”

“You’re wrong. This has to do with your job. You work at The Drago House.”

Y/N tilted her head and crossed her arms. “Yes.”

“It’s owned by the Ibanescu family. They use it as a front for human trafficking.”

Y/N shook her head. “That can’t be possible…”

“Don’t underestimate the crime families of Gotham, Y/N.”

“So, why do you need me?”

“There are files and codecs that would decipher who their buyers are and where they hold auctions around the world. Nothings digital. They’re old school. With that information, we could shut done their operation forever.”

Y/N’s face was serious now. “What do you need me to do?”

“You have always had access to all the information. You just never knew it. All I need is for you to scan the files.”

She now looked at him suspiciously. “Don’t they say you're the world’s greatest detective? I find it hard to believe that you’d have problems breaking into the gallery after hours to get them for yourself…”

“It’s only completely lockdown as soon as it closes every night. Their security system is high-end and resets every 24 hours. Could we get into it eventually? Yes. But we’ve already been at it for weeks. And we’ve received word that there’s a big…” He hesitated. “…shipment happening any day. We don’t have time to waste.”

Y/N thought about what he was telling her.

“Why didn’t you go to Jason?” She finally asked.

“You said Jason doesn’t tell you what to do.”

Y/N glared at him for using her own words against her.

The apartment went quiet again.

Then Y/N nodded slowly. “There’s an opening tomorrow night. I can get them then.”

—————

Dick’s words haunted Jason for the rest of the night. He wanted to cut patrolling early and just get back to Y/N.

Now he swiftly moved into his apartment from the fire escape and immediately took off his helmet and domino mask underneath.

But Jason froze when he saw Y/N’s bat in the middle of the living room.

His heart raced at the immediate assumption that something happened to her. The furniture was untouched and there were no other signs of trouble, but he still rushed towards the bedroom anyway.

“Y/N?” He called out, despite it being nearly 4AM.

He let out a sigh of relief when he found Y/N slowly waking up from their bed.

“J?” She murmured, half asleep.

“Y/N, why is the bat in the living room?” Jason asked as he rubbed his face and then sat on the edge of the bed near her. Without even thinking, he cupped her cheek.

She rubbed her eyes, trying to wake up more. “I thought I heard something and freaked myself out. But it was nothing.”

“Y/N, how many times do I have to tell you? Call me when shit like that happens.”

“But it was nothing,” she repeated. “What?” She added with a sigh when he was giving her that disapproving look.

“I don’t care if it ends up being nothing. If you’re scared, then I’m going to be here. OK?” Then he finalized his point with a quick kiss to her lips.

She nodded. “OK.”

Then she looked him up and down, realizing that he was still completely in his Red Hood gear, only without his helmet.

“You OK?” She asked in a whisper. Her eyes already scanning his body for any obvious injuries.

“I’m fine,” Jason sighed. “I was just worried about you when I saw the bat. I thought something…”

Y/N quickly sat up in bed. “Hey, hey, hey. I’m fine. I’m OK. I was just being paranoid. I should’ve put the bat back. I’m sorry.”  

A comfortable and reassuring silence settled between them.

“Why don’t you take a shower and come to bed?” Y/N offered softly.

Jason nodded and kissed her again.

As soon as he was out of the room, Y/N ran a hand over her face. 

She hated lying to Jason. He didn’t deserve it. But she also knew he wouldn’t let her anywhere near an operation that Bruce was trying to pull off. This had to be the same thing that Tim had pulled Jason aside for at the gala.

But Bruce made one thing clear: he needed her help. And he wouldn’t do so if he wasn’t desperate.

———————-

The next night, Y/N couldn’t stop sweating and her heart rate was out of control. She tried to act like this was just another day of work, greeting customers, explaining the pieces, and answering questions.

But the need to get into the back offices when everyone else was gone would not stop nagging her.

With shaky hands, she tapped her ID on the scanner. Usually at this point in an event, all of her colleagues were either on the floor or had called it the end of their work day and headed home.

By some miracle, that was exactly the case.

Y/N locked the door behind her, never having seen a purpose for doing so any other day of working at the gallery.

“OK. OK. OK. Breathe,” she muttered to herself as her eyes scanned the room.

She knew where all the files were in the room. And Bruce had given her the keys to knowing what to look for. Now it was just a matter of putting the two together.

Y/N instantly went to work and started shuffling through papers, finding what was needed.

Bruce had given her a special pen that would scan every file within a second no matter what angle it was pointed at, so Y/N wouldn’t have any suspicious photos on her cellphone.

Y/N was almost done, covered in sweat and with shaking hands, when the door started jiggling.

She swore her heart was about to burst out of her chest.

With pure adrenaline, Y/N quickly put back the files that were in her hand.

But the person on the other side of the door was clearly getting impatient quickly and continued to mess with the doorknob.

Y/N jumped when it was finally kicked open. She whipped around to stare at a man who was nearly the size of Jason, but looked far deadlier. She’d never seen him at the gallery before, which meant he was definitely part of Ibanescu’s gang.

“Can I help you?” She snapped rudely, trying to use her authority to hide her fear.

“What are you doing in here?” He accused.

“I work here. Who the hell are you?”

He ignored her question. “Why was the door locked?”

“You still haven’t told me who you are,” Y/N shot back.

And with that, she straightened her posture and started walking past him. But this man wasn’t as stupid as he looked. Just as she thought she’d slipped away, the man grabbed her by the arm.

“Excuse me,” Y/N hissed.

But he ignored her and started dragging her into the back storage area of the gallery and further away from the crowd.

Y/N tried to rip her arm from his grasp but his grip was vice-like and didn’t even seem fazed by her efforts to escape.

This was not good.

While Y/N was still hopeful that she could possibly talk her way out, she was also realistic. 

Which is why she hit a button on her watch.

Jason had gifted it to her very early on in their relationship. It was a classic chronograph watch. But he had installed a panic button onto it.

“If something ever happens – even if you think you’re being overly cautious – you push this and it will send out a signal that I can track. I’ll be there before you know it.” That’s what he had told her when he gifted it, and she’d worn it every day since.

A few seconds later, Y/N was being shoved through the door that led to the back alley.

There was a group of men, just as large and intimidating as the one who still had a grip on her arm.

It was pouring rain and freezing outside. But the slight overhand of the building into the alley protected them slightly.

“What the fuck is this?” One of them asked.

“I found her snooping around in the offices,” he announced.

“I’m one of the directors of this gallery!” Y/N bit back. “I was checking the price points on pieces for a potential customer.”

“The door was locked,” the man added.

They all seemed to be looking at each other.

Y/N was frozen, trying to wait for the perfect moment to make a run for it.

But then she saw one of the men, who appeared to be in charge, eye the pen that was clipped to the pocket of her pants. She prayed that he was too stupid to think it was anything more than just a writing utensil.

But then he slowly walked up to her. He grabbed the pen from her pocket and inspected it.

Y/N swore time froze. She couldn’t hear anything. She couldn’t feel the tight grip on her arm that was surely going to bruise her.

Then the man’s gaze shifted from the pen to her eyes.

“Get her in the car,” he told the group.

Y/N’s heart dropped.

Without hesitating, she immediately started to fight the man holding her. With a swift motion, she kneed him hard in the groin, making him let out a growl and keel over. But he dropped his grip on her arm.

Despite wearing heels, she made a run for it. She didn’t get far, but she got far enough into the rain that she was already drenched.

Another man grabbed her, shoving her against the building and clenching her throat to a point of suffocation.

“You stupid bitch,” her original captor spat as he backhanded her across the face.

Y/N blinked as a ringing started in her ears and her face stung with pain.

“Get her in the car before you make a fuckin’ scene,” the leader warned.

But before they could respond to the command, the street lights went out, causing a surge of darkness to blind all of them.

Y/N tried to step away from her attackers as her eyes adjusted to the darkness. But she couldn’t see a damn thing. The pouring rain was only making it more impossible.

It wasn’t until one of the men cried out in pain and guns started firing that she could see anything. Except it was too fast for her to make out a clear picture. Every so often, a lightning strike or a muzzle flash would give her a short glimpse.

Lo and behold, Batman was taking out the men one by one. But every time Y/N’s eyes focused on his tall silhouette, he’d disappear. She couldn’t keep track of his movements. And apparently neither could any of Ibanescu’s men.

“Shoot the girl!” One of the men yelled.

Y/N’s eyes widened when two of the men turned their guns on her.

But just before they fired off their rounds, a small force tackled her to the side and behind the safety of a giant dumpster.

Y/N looked up to see a young boy shielding her with his own body.

Damian. 

Things were so chaotic that she hadn’t even registered he was there, too.

Before she could say anything to him, there was another presence that dropped down beside her. The next second, she was being grabbed and pulled into the sky.

From the feel of his arms alone, Y/N immediately recognized it as Jason.

His grappling gun had brought them to the roof of the building.

Once their feet were grounded onto the roof, Jason barely stepped away and grabbed her shoulders.

Y/N couldn’t read his face from his helmet. But the subtle movements of his head made it clear that he was scanning her body to see if she’d been hit. It only took a few seconds to be convinced that she was clear.

Then he was grasping her face. “Stay here,” he told her before he used his grappling gun to vault back down into the alleyway.

Y/N ran to the edge of the room to look down.

When Jason returned to the fight below, he was ruthless.

Damian had seen the Red Hood with a vengeance many a time. But this… this was something different.

No bone was left unbroken.

Jason wasn’t just neutralizing these men…he was out for blood and pain.

The leader of the little gang was on his knees, covered in his own blood, when he looked up at Jason, who had a gun pointed just centimeters from his head.

“Red Hood, no!” Bruce growled as he threw a batarang, knocking Jason’s gun away from its almost-victim.

Jason whipped his head around. “They were going to kill her!”

“I wasn’t going to let that happen,” Bruce countered.

While they talked, Damian knocked out the man Jason almost murdered. By now, all of them were knocked unconscious or so injured that they couldn’t even open their eyes.

Jason’s entire body froze, realizing what had really happened. Bruce and Damian didn’t just happen to be there to save his girlfriend. This was their doing. They were the ones who had put her in this dangerous situation to begin with.

“What the fuck did you do?” Jason thundered.

Just as a flash of lightening struck, he turned to face Bruce, finding his new prey.  

“She had an in and I asked her to use it,” Bruce explained evenly. “She agreed.”

“Of course she fucking agreed!” Jason yelled over the rain. “She’d never say no to helping! And you knew that, and you took advantage of it!”

Then he raised his gun, pointing it at Bruce.

“Put the gun down, Red Hood.”

“Fuck you,” Jason hissed.

The next thing Y/N knew, Jason shot a bullet towards Bruce, causing her to let out a yell from above. In her heart she knew he hadn’t aimed to kill, but Bruce dodged the shot anyway.

Now the two men were fully fighting each other. Bruce seemed to be pulling his punches and just trying to remain on the defense. But Jason wanted revenge. Yes, Bruce and him had a dark history. But putting Y/N in danger erupted something inside Jason that made him see red in a way he never had before.

Just as Y/N was going to call out for Jason to stop, she heard someone drop beside her on the roof.

Dick stood a few feet away, standing tall in his Nightwing uniform.

“Dick, do something!” She begged.

“I can stop Bats, but I can’t stop him,” he told her.

“Then get me the fuck down there! Use your zip-line thingy!”

“Zip-line thingy?” Dick repeated, clearly offended. “This is a grappling–”

“Dick!” Y/N cut him off.

“Right, sorry.” He grabbed her, held her body tight to him, and lowered them down back to the alley.

When Y/N looked up, Bruce was on his knees, trying to catch his breath.

But Jason wasn’t done with him.

“You made it clear that you don’t give a shit about me. But putting the one person I love in danger just for you to solve a case? You’ve reached a new low,” Jason yelled as he slowly started to walk towards Bruce.

But before Jason could reach him, Y/N blocked his path.

She was soaking wet and shivering from both the cold rain and the shock.

Jason could already see the bruises covering her neck and face. He also didn’t miss the small line of blood that had trickled down her nose.

“Jason,” she whimpered. “That’s enough.”

He froze.

Y/N walked to him. “Please, just take me home,” she whispered.

Just seeing her made Jason’s entire body relax. But he was also reminded that she was the priority, not Bruce.

Noticing her shivering, he took off his leather jacket and wrapped it around her shoulders.

Bruce, Dick, and Damian were barely able to see the short, loving moment before Jason flung a smoke capsule onto the ground, covering him and Y/N as he brought her into his arms.

By the time the smoke disappeared, Jason and Y/N were gone.

—————-

When Jason and Y/N got back to their apartment, Jason when into autopilot mode of nursing Y/N. He pulled her into their bathroom and immediately started helping her out of her wet clothes. Y/N couldn’t stop shaking, and he noticed.

Jason only left her side for the split moment when he turned to start the shower, making sure to make it extra hot.

Then he was right back at her side, taking off his uniform and matching her nudity.

When he gently tugged her into their abnormally large shower, there was nothing sexual about it.

Now that Y/N’s skin was bare to him, he looked at all the injuries she had.

There were a few scrapes that would heal in a week or so. But Jason’s gaze went dark every time they lingered on the bruises across her throat, face, and bicep. He should’ve killed all of those bastards.

Y/N leaned into Jason’s chest. “I’m sorry,” she muttered. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Because she knew that’s what this was. Jason wasn’t mad at her – at least, not yet. That could very much come later. But no, right now, he was scared. He put so much energy into keeping Y/N away from his other life, only for her to be thrown right into the center of it. And it wasn’t even his doing; it was Bruce’s.

“I know,” he bent down to whisper in her ear as he wrapped his arms around her.

Y/N didn’t know how long they stayed in the shower. But eventually Jason turned off the water and wrapped Y/N around in a fluffy white towel. She looked so young and innocent.

He moved her to their bedroom and sat her down on the edge of the bed.

Y/N watched him as he moved about the room, getting each of them clothes – all from his own closet.

“Are you hungry?” He asked her carefully as he handed her a pair of his sweatpants and one of his hoodies.

She shook her head.

Jason wasn’t surprised. One of the side effects of trauma and shock was a loss of appetite. But he made her drink a huge glass of water before he let her get in bed. And he made a mental note to make a big breakfast tomorrow when her body recovered and realized how starving it was.

When they were both finally under the covers, Jason didn’t hesitate to pull Y/N completely in his arms, smothering her with his giant frame. She welcomed his touch and warmth, burying her face into his chest.

Neither of them knew who needed this closeness more.

Tonight had been scary. Y/N knew Jason’s anger was bound to show up at some point. But right now, both of them were just grateful they were okay.

————————-

To Y/N’s surprise, she woke up in bed alone.

But her concern didn’t last long as she heard Jason moving around in the kitchen and she could hear soft music was playing if she listened hard enough.

When Y/N moved to get out of bed, she felt all the soreness that came from being grabbed and thrown around like she was last night. She winced, but it wasn’t anything she couldn’t handle. But she made a mental note to hide any signs that she was in pain from Jason.

Over their time together, Y/N and Jason got disturbingly good at reading one another. So, when Y/N walked into the kitchen to find Jason making breakfast, she immediately sensed things were not good. It wasn’t the cooking that tipped her off. His naked back was to her and she could somehow see the tension in his shoulders – in his whole body.

Y/N knows he heard her as soon as she walked into the kitchen.

“There’s coffee,” he says without turning around from the stove. He’s making pancakes. Chocolate chip pancakes, to be precise.

Y/N pours herself some coffee and sits at the table, watching him.

A few minutes pass before she’s had enough of the tension.

“If you’re gonna yell at me, then yell at me,” she told him.

Jason froze for a moment, but then quickly looked at her over his shoulder. “When have I ever yelled at you?”

He had a point.

Yes, Jason was once filled with only rage. There was a reason some feared Red Hood more than the Batman. He was ruthless. Fueled by vengeance, his temper, and his disappointment in the evil that plagued the world. He fought his enemies, but he also fought with his friends and family.

But Jason Todd was none of those things with Y/N. He never lost his temper with her. He never projected his rage and hardships from what he saw as Red Hood onto her. He’d never even raised his voice with her.

“I know,” Y/N admitted. “But I also know you’re still angry.”

Jason sighed, turning off the stove and bringing a giant plate of pancakes to the table.

But Y/N couldn’t eat while having this discussion.

Jason leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You wouldn’t have let me do it,” Y/N countered.

“Yeah, and for good reason.”

“He used you, Y/N.” Jason tried to explain. “You’re untrained… with no exposure to this world. He knew not to involve you and he went behind my back to do it anyway.”

Y/N lowered her head in shame. There was a part of her that felt useless. She couldn’t jump around rooftops and save those who needed it. She was just…normal.

“I just wanted to help,” she mumbled.

Jason leaned forward from seeing her upset. “Y/N, come here.” He reached for her hand and baited her towards him.

She took his offer and moved from her chair to straddle his lap.

Jason held her waist tightly as he pressed his forehead to her’s. “I don’t want to lose you,” he whispered.

“You’re not going to,” she reassured him.

“Please, I’m begging you, don’t ever do something like that again.”

Y/N’s heart hurt at how desperate he sounded. She had realized far too quickly that Jason wasn’t scared of death. He was only scared of her death.

“I promise,” she told him.

“You scared the fucking shit out of me, Y/N.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

Jason accepted her apology with a kiss. But it didn’t end quickly. In fact, it got more heated and hungrier. His grip got firmer on her waist.

Y/N knew where this was going, especially as he thumbed the hem of her hoodie and sweatpants. But they both needed this.

“The pancakes, Jason.” She warned him.

Jason smiled as he pulled away from her lips. “Fuck the pancakes,” he told her in between kisses. “I’m takin’ you back to bed.”

—————————

A few weeks had passed since the incident. Y/N tried to get her relationship with Jason back to normal. He still insisted on keeping his vigilante life away from her. But there was more of an understanding for why now.

However, tension had risen again a couple days after the attack, when they received an interesting gift in the mail. They had opened a rather large envelope addressed to the both of them. 

Inside were two first-class plane tickets to Paris with their names on them and an open reservation at Hotel Le Royal Monceau.

Y/N had stared at them with more of an understanding than Jason.

She’d looked up at Jason. “I…I told him I’ve always wanted to go to Paris when I first met him at the gala.”

He’d glared at the gift. “Typical Bruce. If he can’t punch his way out of an issue, he’ll try and buy it.”

Neither of them had said anything about actually using tickets and reservation. It just collected dust on one of their end tables.

Now Y/N sat in their apartment alone, reading another one of Jason’s books, when her cell started ringing.

It was a number she didn’t know, but she decided to answer it anyway.

“Hello?”

“Ms. Y/L/N, it’s Alfred Pennyworth,” a charming voice answered back.

Y/N couldn’t help, but smile. As if she knew more than one Alfred in the world. “Hi, Alfred.”

“I thought it would be a good time to give you that lesson you asked for. Are you free today?”

Y/N looked around her apartment. All of her plans for today had consisted of laying around, drinking coffee, doing a bit of reading.

“Yes, today would be great.”

—————

Y/N wouldn’t make the same mistake twice and had given Jason the heads up on her change of plans.

Seeing as Jason had no issue with Alfred, he didn’t seem too bothered bit it all. But he did still tell her to be careful and ended the call with a sincere, “I love you.”

It was strange going back to Wayne Manor when there wasn’t a gala being held there.

Y/N thought it would seem more like a home this time around, but it still felt like a museum to her. And yet, she still had imposter syndrome as she walked through the threshold.

Alfred gave her a warm smile as he opened the door. “It is lovely to see you again, Ms. Y/L/N.”

“Alfred, please, it’s just Y/N.”

He nodded. Then he gestured for her to follow him. “Come. I have a station set up in the cave.”

Y/N stuttered to a stop. “Cave? As in the Bat Cave?”

Alfred seemed amused with her hesitation and concern. “Of course.”

“Should I be – Is that even OK?” Y/N fumbled through her question.

“Well, I don’t see the point of hiding it from you. It’s not like you don’t know all the family secrets already, dear.”

Y/N blinked at that and finally continued following him.

Alfred led her through the secret passage way as if he was taking her to the dining room. She tried to control her reactions and not come off too interested in the details of it all. But it was rather hard.

Just like Alfred told her, there was a little medical station set up in a brighter lit area of the dark and dingy cave.

Y/N half expected him to bring up the recent drama that she’d caused. But ever the gentleman, Alfred didn’t so much as mention it.

He also did as he promised, going through everything she could ever need to know while tending to Jason. He even had little models to practice sewing stitches on. He was a good teacher and Y/N was soaking it all up like a sponge.

She couldn’t imagine her going to med school at any point. But knowing these skills were going to be used to help Jason made it easier to retain.

After hours of teaching, the cave awoke as a carport opened and the batmobile sped in.

Y/N internally swore. She’d hoped not to run into Bruce with this visit. He never seemed to be home, so the odds had seemed low. But clearly she’d messed that up.

Bruce stepped out of the car, taking in the two of them.

“Any injuries, Master Wayne?” Alfred asked politely.

Bruce was about to lie, but he glanced down at his abdomen where it was quite obvious he was bleeding.

“Perfect. My pupil can practice on you,” Alfred announced. 

Y/N’s eyes widened in panic. “Oh! That’s definitely a bad idea…”

“Nonsense. Best way to learn is under pressure,” he winked. “I shall go off and start dinner. Let me know if you’re near death, Master Wayne.”

Y/N watched him leave, regretting ever having come here.

When she turned back around, Bruce was removing his cowl.

“He’s right,” Bruce admitted. “Best way to learn is under pressure.” Then he moved to sit in the medical chair.

Y/N swallowed, realizing how dry her mouth was. “Right.”

Her hands shook as she tried to remember everything Alfred had been through. But she knew in the back of her mind that Bruce was fully capable of stitching himself up. So, as much as this was a set up from Alfred, Bruce wasn’t running away from it like she had tried to.

Y/N hadn’t said a word as she cleaned his wound, only apologizing when she thought was necessary – even though he never made a sound of pain or even so much as winced.

Bruce seemed to be following her lead, not wanting to force her to talk if she didn’t want to.

But after 20 minutes or so of silence, Y/N couldn’t take it any longer.

“You know, you can’t buy his forgiveness,” she said as she focused on her stitches.

“I wasn’t only looking for his forgiveness…”

Her eyes flickered to meet his awaiting gaze. “You can’t buy mine either.”

“I owe you an apology,” Bruce began to her surprise. “I should have never involved you. It was dangerous, despite how in control of situation I thought I was.”

“I agreed to it,” Y/N offered. Then she looked at him again. “But I accept your apology.”

A moment passed before Y/N asked, “Are you going to say that to him, too?”

“I would if he would even consider talking to me.”

With that comment, Y/N put down her tools for a second and straightened her posture. “I may not know you very well, Bruce. But I do know that you and Jason are more alike than either of you care to admit.”

She hesitated on continuing. Did Bruce even deserve advice from her?

“He was hurt. And he showed all of you that hurt by being angry, because he didn’t know how else to tell you. He doesn’t feel heard and he doesn’t feel seen. He was lost. And it’s hard for him to just forget how you all handled it.” She took in a deep breath. “But I know he still sees all of you as his family. And you’re the closest thing he’s ever had to a real father.”

Then she quickly grabbed her tools again and cleared her throat. “So, get over yourself, and just talk to him. And I mean actually talk to him – not as Batman and Red Hood, but as Jason and Bruce.”

The cave went quiet.

Y/N couldn’t help herself and looked up at Bruce. Either she was losing her mind or he was giving her a very shy smirk.

“What?” She blurted out.

But before he could answer, a motorcycle sped into the cave.

Y/N would recognize Jason’s bike anywhere. But he wasn’t in uniform. Instead, opting for his black leather jacket and a normal tinted motorcycle helmet.

After he took it off, he eyed the two of them, trying to read the room.

“Hey,” Y/N said shyly.

“Figured I’d come and pick you up,” Jason answered her unasked question, ignoring Bruce.

Y/N looked down at Bruce’s injury. “Actually, I’m all done here.”

“Thank you,” Bruce said sincerely as Y/N covered the wound with a bandage. “You’ll be a better nurse than Alfred in no time.”

Y/N grinned and took off her gloves.

But then she met Jason’s unsure gaze. They had a silent conversation.

“I’m gonna go say goodbye to Alfred,” she quickly told Jason, but really she was telling both of them. “Meet me out front when you’re ready?”

Jason hesitated, but nodded.

Y/N walked to him and gave him a quick kiss for comfort and encouragement.

And then she was off, leaving the two men alone.

Jason shifted his weight, not knowing where to start.

“You’re lucky to have her,” Bruce finally spoke.

Jason winced even though it was a compliment. “I don’t deserve her.”

Bruce stood up. “That’s not true.”

“You of all people know I’m not a good man, Bruce.”

He shook his head. “We may have different views on how to save this city. But we both want the same thing. That doesn’t mean you’re not a good man, Jason.”

Jason blinked at his statement.

“I owe you an apology for... a lot,” Bruce began. “The first is putting that girl in danger.” He paused. “The second was not protecting you – before and after everything that happened.”

“You mean before and after I died?” Jason wasn’t going to make this easy for him.

Bruce’s jaw clenched at that.

“Anything else you want to apologize for?” Jason challenged.

“Yes,” Bruce confirmed. “But I get the feeling that you don’t want to hear it all right now.”

There was a pause.

“You’ll always be my son, Jason. Even if you no longer see me as your father.”

Jason’s eyes filled with tears at Bruce’s words. But he held them back. He couldn’t break down. He couldn’t be weak. Not here. Not now. Not like this. 

He couldn’t take any more of this discussion. But he knew this was what he’d been wanting to hear from Bruce for so long.

“I’ll see you around, Bruce.” He told him before putting his helmet back on.

But Bruce had one last thing to say. “Keep her close. Don’t be like me, Jason.”

‘Don’t push people who love you away and make this darkness be your only life,’ was what Bruce would never actually have the courage to say.

Jason now had the cover of his helmet to hide his expressions. But he gave Bruce one last glance before tearing out of the cave.

—————

As Jason pulled his motorcycle up to the front of the manor to pick of Y/N, Damian was playing out front with Titus on the gravel drive.

“Hey, Demon Spawn,” Jason greeted after taking off his helmet.

“Todd,” the boy replied coldly.

To his surprise, Jason got off his bike and walked to him with his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket.

Damian eyed him.

“I saw what you did that night. You saved her life,” Jason said.

Damian waited.

Jason held out his hand. “I just wanted to thank you.”

The boy hesitated before finally shaking it.

Jason didn’t expect Damian to say anything. But he did know talking to him like an adult, instead of a kid, was the only way to get through to him.

Then Y/N was walking out to them with Alfred lingering in the doorway.

“Hi, Damian,” she greeted sweetly before greeting his dog as well.

“Hi, Y/N.”

Jason was surprised he even remembered her name.  

“Ready to go?” He asked Y/N.

She nodded. But then reached up to touch the white in his hair. She seemed to have a fondness for it. And Jason didn’t seem to mind.

“You OK?” She asked.

He nodded. “Better.”

She gave him a shy but encouraging look. “I’m glad.”

“I love you, you know,” Jason breathed.

“I know,” she smiled.

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

Oh lordy. That took way longer than I was expecting. But kept my mind off of this dumpster fire of a country. And I hope reading it did the same for you ❤️

[elvish-sky]

Say That Again {Legolas x Reader}

A.N: Do I really like this fic? Yes, I do. Will I possibly be re-writing it and turning it into a multi-part? Yes, I will. Thank you so much to the two Anons who requested this- I kinda went a little off of your exact requests, so I hope that’s ok, but I was super inspired by them. I’m very proud of this, and I really hope you all like it!

Requested by Anons on Tumblr: Can I request a Legolas x reader fic where the reader is an archivist for the library in Mirkwood and Legolas begins to visit more often just to see the reader? Over the months, they get very close and eventually end up confessing/sharing a small kiss, and the reader whispers, “I love you.” afterward. Legolas, having not heard those words directed towards him in a long time, is breathless. then, shyly, he tells the reader to say it again😶

and

Hey! I love your writing, by the way. I know you probably get a lot of these, so no pressure, but I was wondering if I could request a Legolas x reader fic? maybe where the reader is like an archivist/librarian for the woodland realm, and Legolas is doing research on the sickness in his homeland. together, they both find that Sauron has returned, and become really close over the time they’ve spent together. maybe the reader could join the fellowship with him? it’s just an idea based on a fic I read a while ago. you could do what you like with it, but I thought you could turn it into whatever you like. Thanks!

Word Count: 1,431

Pairing: Legolas x Reader

Warnings: Fluff, other than that I think that’s it. 

****

Say That Again

You sat curled up in your favorite chair in the back corner of the library and began to read, taking a break from your work. You were an archivist for the Library of the Woodland Realm, and you loved your job. Books were one of your favorite things in life, and so it was only natural for you to work in the library. Not only was it full of tomes of knowledge, but it was also absolutely stunning. Like everything else in the kingdom, it embodied nature, with smooth sweeping arches of stone and vines trailing along the walls. There were cuts in the stone to allow sunlight to brighten the dark, and the dust shone in the sunbeam on your table that was also illuminating your (h/c) hair, making it glow.

You looked up as someone plopped into the seat across from you. Legolas, Prince of the Woodland Realm, had started visiting the library rather suddenly several weeks ago, looking for answers about the blight and darkness that were spreading through the forest. Shocked at first about how much he cared about the forest, and then even more so at how interested he was in you, it had been rather awkward at first. He was the prince, and you were just another elf, of no importance. Despite your differences, you had become fast friends, although you had wished for more since you had first laid eyes on him, years ago. 

He slammed a thick book down onto the table. “I think this one may contain the answers!” You glanced at the title. Blights of Nature and Their Causes. As much as you did not want to get your hopes up, this one looked promising. 

“Where did you find this?” you flipped open the cover, admiring the pretty endpapers. Whoever had authored this book had clearly taken the time to make sure it was presentable.

“In the ‘Ancient Lore’ section, the top of the last shelf.” You could tell he had been in the far reaches of the library, he was absolutely covered in dust. You absentmindedly reached out to brush off his shoulder, making him blush, but you quickly withdrew your hand once you realized what you were doing. 

“What were you doing back there?” 

“I figured that we’ve had no luck looking in the places where it would make sense to find answers, so I looked in a place where it wouldn’t make sense.” 

You chuckled at his explanation. “That may be the least-well thought out reasoning I have ever heard.” 

“Nevertheless, this one might be it. I mean, it mentions blights in the title! What’s happening outside is definitely a blight.” 

You could understand his excitement. You had been looking for some sort of explanation for weeks, and the darkness was only spreading. You bent over the book, head bowed next to his as you poured over the pages together.

Sometime later, you awoke, hearing a gasp, to find your head resting on Legolas’ chest. You were somehow lying between his legs with the book resting on your stomach as he peered at it over your shoulder. “What is it?” you responded to his cry, blinking groggily. “I think I’ve found something.” Your eyes scanned the page he was on, flying across the words as you searched for what he meant. They came to a rest on the line A spreading of darkness in a forest, and an infestation of dark creatures, often herald the arrival of dark sorcery. 

“Dark sorcery?” you glanced up at him, your worry mirrored in his eyes looking back at you. 

“It makes sense,” you could feel his mind spinning, sense his brain questioning, searching for an answer. “But what sorcery is strong enough to corrupt the Woodland Realm?”

 “I do not know,” you replied. “But I fear for all our safety against one this powerful. We must learn who is doing this.” 

“I know of someone who may be able to answer our questions.” Legolas strode into the library the next morning with a purposeful air. You looked up from your work. He was wearing a tunic and leather boots, like always, and his hair loose except for those two small braids on either side of his head. He looked, to put it simply, absolutely wonderful. But then, when did he not?

You were sure that you didn’t look half as put together- you had spent the whole night after he left-which was admittedly not much, he had stayed pretty late- pouring over ancient manuscripts and old texts, trying to find mention of any sorcerers powerful enough to corrupt a whole forest. You had found nothing, and looked rather worse for wear.

“Who?” you were frantically attempting to rein in your unruly hair as you spoke.

“Gandalf the Grey. I sent him a bird last night and he replied, he has found something most troubling and thinks it may be related. I’m traveling to Rivendell today on unrelated business and he’ll be there, so I’ll ask him then.” 

Now you were busy brushing out your clothes and picking lint off of them. Legolas looked at you, eyes drawn from where they had been steadily focused on the wall behind you by your frantic movements. “Y/N, what are you doing?” He grabbed your hand. “I’m just… nothing.” You looked down in embarrassment, eyes firmly fixed on his boots. “You’re primping, aren’t you?” “Well, it’s not fair for you to just tramp in here looking perfect all the time!” You stepped back from him, realizing what you had just said. “Well, you- uh- you don’t look perfect, per se, more like… well put together!” 

Your self-conscious stammering had just made you feel worse. “Look, Legolas. I’m sorry. I very much did not mean to say that.” “It’s ok, Y/N. I do look pretty great.” He did a little twirl to show off just how great, and you felt the blood rush to your cheeks again. 

“Now, Y/N, you might want to go upstairs and grab some things for the road if we want to be out of the forest by midday.”

“Wait- I’m coming?”

“Of course, Y/N! You didn’t think that after all of the help you gave me you wouldn’t be included when we finally get our answer?” 

Sheepishly, you nodded.

“Ok, well, go pack. I’ll put these books back and be waiting ready to go.”

“Thank you, Legolas!” you exclaimed as you turned to the door. “Love you!” 

“What did you just say?” Legolas spoke, and you spun to see him, face pale with shock, leaning against your table. 

“I said thanks.” It had been a passing comment, and you didn’t remember saying anything else. Until you did. “Oh, shit!” you clapped a hand over your mouth and internally smacked yourself. If he did not dislike me for my oddities before, he’ll hate me now, you thought. 

“Oh, I’m so sorry, Legolas. It was just a slip of the tongue, it meant nothing…” you trailed off as he stepped closer to you.

He grabbed your chin in his hand, gazing into your eyes. “Say that again.” 

“It meant nothing?” you were so very confused. 

“No, Y/N. The other thing.” He looked mildly exasperated with you now but was still gazing at you with that peculiar expression on his face.

“I love you?” you stammered, wondering if that was, in fact, the right thing to say. 

“I love you too, Y/N.”

With this, his hand on your chin guided your lips to press against his. Finally, you thought as you melted into the kiss, surrendering yourself to him. You had wanted this for so long, and now it was finally happening. Your hands were tangled in his hair like you’d wanted them to be ever since you’d first met him. One of his was supporting your neck, and the other was wrapped around your back, pulling you closer into him.

Panting, you broke away. “I should go pack. We want to be on the road soon.” He nodded, seeming to come back to reality. “I’ll be waiting here when your ready, melleth nin.” He said the words to your retreating back, and as you heard them you smiled. Spinning around again, you strode back to him and grabbed his shirt to pull his lips down to yours. “We can wait ten more minutes, right?” “Of course.” He kissed you again, and you lost yourself in him, his arms wrapped around you, holding on to each other as you would be for the rest of your lives. 

Everything tag 💖: @entishramblings @boyruins @itgetsatadhazy @anjhope1

Legolas tag: @sheriffgerard

[klbwriting]

Pirate’s Heart - Chapter 3

I’m An Albatroaz

Fandom: Six of Crows

Pairing: Kaz/female!Reader

Summary: Kaz plans a heist that goes disastraously wrong

Taglist: @sixofshadowandbone @thedelusionreaderbitch @itsemy01 @angelicdanvers @marinettepotterandplagg @screen-to-stage @aysegust @sagewrites111 @lilyoflower @hey-peeps @starjane312 @spawn0fsatan @myalupinblack @ameliathackray @moondustmarauder​

Let me tell you all a story about a mouse named Lorry Yeah, Lorry was a mouse in a big brown house She called herself the hoe, with the money money flow But fuck that little mouse 'cause I'm an albatraoz

It was early in the morning, the sun was just starting to rise and Kaz hadn't slept all night.  It was hard to sleep when a person named Lady Heartless was sharing a room with you and she hadn't been sleeping either.  They had seemed to be staring at each other the whole night, studying the other.  It was when the light of the sun was just peaking into the window that one of them finally spoke.

"I know a secret about you Kaz Brekker," she said softly.  He tried to keep his face blank but she saw some curiosity in his eyes.  "I know something happened to you, something bad."

"I'm a pirate, we don't exactly because pirates because good things happen," he said, mocking that she thought she knew him so well.  He was trying to keep himself calm, the look on her face was pity and he had a feeling that she did know what had happened to him.

"I know what happened to you on this ship...what the others did before you killed the captain and took over," she said.  Kaz could feel his face get paler but he tried to ignore it, swallowing hard and scowling.  

"How the fuck do you know any of that?" he asked, gripping the dagger that was hidden under his mattress.  He didn't want to kill her but if she planned on trying to use this secret against his crew he would gut her without a thought. 

  "I don't have a heart, so I learned how to read other people's hearts.  In their words, their mannerisms, their eyes.  A few years ago when we were stuck in that hallway together, hiding because my job had gone back and you made it worse, I touched your arm, just for a moment but the look on your face I have only ever seen in the faces of the girls I release from the pleasure vessels.  That kind of horror is unique," she explained.  Kaz felt his breath hitch in his throat.  He could see now in her eyes the pity but something else, admiration.

   "Why tell me this now?" he asked.  

"Because this is a job we're working together on, and its only fair, you have a secret hanging over my head and I have one over yours, we're even," she said.  She sat up, the night shirt she wore slipping down her shoulder.  Kaz had never seen a woman in his shirt before and he couldn't lie, he didn't hate it.  He noticed that her skin looked soft and smooth until it got to the target like scar on her chest.

  "Is that where it happened?" he asked even though he knew the answer.  She looked down and pushed the shirt up to cover the scars, nodding.  "What did it feel like?"  She barked out a dark laugh.

"It felt like someone was ripping a vital organ from my body and before I could recover someone put a knife through it," she said.  "Your uncle is a fucking prick."  Kaz laughed himself at this, showing a rare smile.  Y/N caught it and smiled a little herself.  His smile was nice, bigger than she thought it would be. "I can't argue with that," Kaz said, getting up himself.  He stood, stretching his limbs, shirtless and Y/N watched, the light hitting him just so that she thought for a moment that he was shining.  It was possibly the most beautiful thing she had ever seen.  She quickly moved to stand, grabbing her pants to hide her blush before he could see it.  Lord, she had laid with men before, and women, why was this one boy making her feel like a virginal maid.  She slid the pants on and stripped off his shirt, pulling on her own.  Kaz had slid his on also and watched her finish dressing, sliding on her boots and putting her long hair up in a bun on her head.  He liked it better down but he wasn't going to tell her that.   "So we should probably wake the others and tell them the plan," Y/N said, moving towards the door.  Kaz nodded and followed her out.  He requested that only his first mates and her mates join them in the lounge.  

"Now Rollins' home is a fortress, heavily guarded at every entrance except for the waterway.  It has wide bars that they assume no one could fit through," Kaz explained, showing them a drawn up blueprint of the fortress.   Y/N glanced to Inej.

"Think you could fit?" she asked.  Kaz looked at her surprised.  He would have just commanded Inej to go through the bars or miss out on the money but she asked.  He was going to ask her about that later.  Inej nodded.  "Alright, after Inej gets in what's next?"

"There is a pulley system inside to raise the bars for releasing the bodies of the executed that can pile up there, she will need to use a device that Wylan is creating to blow the levy and raise it for us," he explained.  "Once we're in we split into two groups, one group goes to the treasury on the second flor and creates a diversion, that group will be Inej, Jesper, Nina, and Matthias.  You and I will go directly to the sea witch being kept in main cell here in the basement.  The diversion should have them low staffed and we should be able to handle anyone who's still there.  Exactly half an hour after we enter we should be meeting Wylan at the entrance of the waterway to head back to the Crow."   Y/N looked at the plans again and squinted some.

"How will the group at the treasury escape if they are creating the diversion?" she asked.  Kaz smirked.  

"Another feat for your Inej, she will have to be a phantom in the room.  When the others are caught the guards will be heading back to their stations and should only leave one or two guards to handle transporting the rest of the group.  She will sneak behind them, give Matthias the lockpicks I will provide and take out the guard in the rear.  Matthias will free himself and handle the other guard.   Y/N nodded and had to admit it was a smart plan.

"You know a lot about this place," she said.  "How it functions."

"I grew up there, I should know it," he said.  Only those in that room knew of his origins and he looked at the women.  "That information doesn't leave this room."  They looked to Y/N and she nodded.

"We can keep secrets just like you," she said, eyeing him close.  He stared back at her.  "But Brekker, remember, you better not just be ruining my life again."

"O I only want to fuck up your night," he said.  Jesper rolled his eyes.  

"Lord you two have a catch phrase," he muttered.

"Excuse me?" Y/N asked, glaring at the man.  His dark eyes danced with laughter.

"Please, every time we meet you two say that.  'Kaz you better not ruin my life' 'O Y/N I just want to fuck up your night' you guys just scream power couple..."

"Enough of that talk," Kaz snapped, cane coming down on Jesper's hand and making him yelp.  "Rest up we leave at 9 tonight."

Inej studied the bars in the waterway, swimming in front of them pushing to find any weak spots, testing the width with her head.  Just when Kaz thought the girl was going to shrug and give up she slipped through the bars and climbed on the narrow walkway just beyond.  She held her hand out and Wylan handed her the small bomb from the rowboat they were in.  She light the device and put it on the levy mechanism before hopping into the water.  The bomb blew but the bang wasn't startling, it sounded like someone had shot a gun for target practice.  They hoped no one would really notice as the bars rose and they rowed in.  Wylan stayed with the boat as the others made their way through the waterway and up the stairs.  This led to a morgue and the smell hit them all hard.  Jesper and Nina gagged, nearly losing their dinners.  Kaz took a deep breath through his mouth before pressing on and out the door.

"Jesper, up the stairs down there, will take you to the treasury.  Half an hour don't be late or we're leaving without you," he said.  Jesper gave him a look that said he didn't believe him before disappearing with the others.  Kaz looked at Y/N who was waiting by the door towards the cells.  

"How did you find out about this?" she asked as they snuck down the halls, looking for the sea witch.  Kaz rolled his eyes.  He didn't like talking during a job, but he remembered that Y/N was a chatterbox during a heist.  

"I was in Port Hilib and it was a rumor, I bribed a guard here and they confirmed it," he said.  Well that was clearly not what she wanted to hear.

"This seems foolish, are you sure that he wasn't lying?" she asked.  Kaz growled.  He had thought of that just now.  He knew he had a need for revenge against his uncle but he didn't realize it had given him tunnel vision.  She was right, this could be a trap and he had just brought not only his crew but her.  O fuck, his uncle thought she was dead.  He would know immediately who she was now and she would be in more danger.  Kaz didn't often care about his competition but he liked Y/N and didn't want her dead.

"Guess we'll find out," he said with as much bravado as he could muster.  He could see that she didn't believe him but she was still following.  

"Guess we will," Y/N said, knowing that they were probably running into a trap.  She could only hope that the others got out and that her and Kaz's brains combined could get them out of this one.  They turned the corner of the final row of cells to find all of them empty.  Now Y/N knew they were in trouble.  The only people in the cells were Pekka Rollins and his second in command Barcham.  

"Hello nephew...O I see you've brought a guest..." Rollins froze then as Y/N came further into the light and he realized who she was.  " Y/N, how...you're supposed to be dead!"   Y/N actually just laughed.  Pekka looked so old.  

"Ok, how long have I been dead?  You look terrible Pekka!" she said, still cackling.  Kaz looked at her worried.  He had been on the receiving end of a beating from Pekka and though it had been years he still felt a twinge of fear in his chest at the look in his uncle's eyes.  

"How long have you been around?" he asked, snarling.  

"About 5 years now, the Menagerie?  Lady Heartless?  Ring any bells ya prick?" she said.  Now Kaz was panicking a bit internally.  He wanted to survive this encounter and she wasn't making that an easy task.  

"So you were dead 15 years and suddenly you came back? How?" he demanded.  She rolled her eyes while Kaz tried to back out of the hallway.  Barcham slid in behind him and held up his pistol.  Kaz froze and glared.   "Pekka, I traded my heart for legs...then you stabbed me in an empty chest cavity.  I literally have no heart, that was not a figure of speech the sea witch was using," she explained as if she were talking to one of her younger girls.  Pekka looked positively livid, she could have sworn steam was coming out of his ears but this was just too much fun.  

"Um, Y/N, I would really like you to shut the fuck up now," she heard Kaz say from behind her.  She turned to see him with a pistol aimed at his head.  She nodded and held up her hands, dropping her own pistol.  Pekka moved over and grabbed her arm roughly.  She felt herself getting sick but held it down.  Kaz looked just as sickened when Barcham took his arm and started leading them out of the cells.

"So the sea witch story?" Kaz asked.

"Just a trap to get you here.  Your little friends will all be on a prison ship to the Outer Isle in the morning, and you Kaz will hopefully learn your place in this life.   Y/N, I might just make sure you're dead this time," Pekka said.   Y/N looked at Kaz and he stared at her as they were led away into captivity.

[fallingfor-fics]

Teachers Pet- chapter 5: tour of Hogwarts

All chapters

chapter 4

"Well there we have it! Welcome to Slytherin y/n, please go find a seat at the table and enjoy your first breakfast as a Hogwarts student, and come find me after!" Dumbledore said smiling and patting me on the back, nudging me towards the table. "Now everyone enjoy!" he said as he snapped his fingers and breakfast foods of all different kinds appeared on the tables and students began to dig in immediately. 

 The cheers had finally calmed down and I walked over to the table looking for a empty spot. "Hey y/n come come here and sit with us!" I saw a boy with  very blonde hair holler to me. He had two other boys sitting across from him staring back and forth between me and this odd looking boy. I walked over and sat next to him smiling. "Hi" I said softly. "I'm Draco, Draco Malfoy and this is Crabbe and that's Goyle" he said pointing to the two boys across from him. "Oh well it's nice to meet you" "oh the pleasure is all mine" Draco said a little suspiciously if I might add, I can usually read people somewhat well and he seemed like a little trouble maker. I'd have to be careful with this one. I reached over and grabbed a biscuit from the mounds of food and put some jelly and butter on it. "Oh c'mon y/n all this food and you can have any of it, and you're just gonna settle for a biscuit." I looked at the blonde boy and just nodded my head and took a bite. I looked to his friends and they were stuffing their faces with eggs and bacon. "So y/n tell me about yourself" Draco asked as he bit into his pancakes. "Ok, well I transferred from Beauxbatons and I'm a sixth year, and my parents just divorced, which is why I was forced to go here." I said getting a cup of orange juice and taking a sip. "Oh so if you went to Beauxbatons you must be filthy rich. I'm sure you are based on the look of ya, and I myself am pretty wealthy. I don't know if you've heard of my father Lucius Malfoy, but we are a pretty esteemed pureblood family of Slytherins" he said smugly bragging like I cared, which I guess he couldn't tell I didn't. "Well I wouldn't say rich, but I am fortunate enough. Depends on how you look at it." I said smiling. "Hmm and are you a pureblood as well?" he said staring me down, I could tell my answer really mattered to him. "Yes as far as I know" I said lying. I know that was probably wrong and will probably backfire but I needed a place to sit and I didnt need to give him a reason to mess with me. We continued talking and eating until breakfast was almost over, it was then that I looked up at the teachers table to find Dumbledore that I locked eyes with a man, he had jet black hair and pale skin, with deep coal black eyes, they almost seemed to look directly into my soul. He had a somber and pissed off look on his face. I got distracted staring at him, he wore all black too, what was he a vampire? No that's silly. I finally snapped back into reality and realized he was staring me down still and quickly turned back to Draco. "Draco, who's that man with the black hair and sad face up there?" I said lightly laughing. "Oh that's Professor Snape the potions Professor" he responded. "Hmm." "Oh and he's the head of Slytherin" this made my eyes go wide. "HE'S the head of our house!" I said shocked looking back at the man once more who was lightly conversing with the teachers next to him, although he looked like he'd rather die than be sitting there. "Yeah he's a real bitter man, but he tends to favor us." Draco said casually. "Interesting" soon all the food disappeared and we were dismissed. "Ok well time for class, you coming what classes do you have?" Draco asked. "Oh well Dumbledore told me to see him after. So i'll find you later.'' I said patting his shoulder and walking up to the teachers table.

Most of the teachers were exiting, except Dumbledore who was waiting for me. He stood next to a girl that was about my height and had a smile on her face with reddish brown wavy shoulder length hair. "Ahh there you are y/n this is Hermione Granger, she's one of my most exceptional students and she will be showing you around and taking you to Hogsmeade to get your things!" Dumbledore said smiling. "Hello y/n" Hermione said, extending her hand to shake mine, I took her hand and returned the gesture. "Hi its nice of you to take the time to do this" I smiled "oh no worries a free break from school is no issue!" she laughed. "Ok well I will let you girls get to it! y/n here is a pouch of galleons I want you to get whatever you need on me! Now run along I will be in my office if you need anything, oh and here is your schedule" he said handing it to me and walking off. Soon we were the last ones leaving and headed out to exit the school. "So what house are you in Hermione are you a Slytherin as well?" I asked as we walked down the hall. "Oh heavens no, I'm in Gryffindor" she responded. "I take it Slytherins don't have the best rep here?" I asked "Oh I didn't mean it like that...but um yeah most of them are pretty...high headed." she said laughing a bit. "Oh interesting."

We finished up at Hogsmeade and I got my uniform and all the books and supplies Hermione said I would need. She was a pretty nice girl and I could see myself being friends with her. We got along well. As we approached the school I looked at my new watch I got at the store and it read 12:15. "What time is lunch?" "It's noon, it already started but I figured we could skip it and I could give you the tour now while everyones in the great hall," she said as we walked past the loud conversations coming from the doors. "Ok sounds good, I also wanted to use the restroom and change into my uniform and robes now so I can look normal ha" I said laughing "Oh ok cool follow me" she took me to the nearest bathroom and I went into the stall and changed as fast as possible, putting on the white button up and tie, I bought a sweater too but I didn't feel like putting that on right now, there was also a choice between green plaid skirt or a plain black one, and the stylist inside me said to go with the plaid since it was cute. I slipped on the skirt and tucked the shirt in and pulled up the black knee high socks and put my boots on over them. Topping it all off with my robe. I exited the stall and Hermione looked at me smiling, "Perfect you will fit right in" she said. I looked at myself in the mirror, it was definitely a look I'd have to get used to.

"Ok where to next" I asked as we exited the bathroom. "Well let me see your schedule and well base it-" we were cut off as we turned the corner and were confronted by the dark Professor. "What are you two doing? Last I checked it was lunch and everyone was in the great hall." Professor Snape said. He had a very deep velvety voice and he enunciated every word. It felt familiar like I had heard it somewhere. "We were-" Hermione began but he cut her off once more. "Skipping are we?" he said arms folded across his chest. "Ten points from Gryf-" "Actually no" I interrupted before he could finish. He gave me a sharp cold look for doing so and stepped closer about to yell at me for cutting him off. "Headmaster Dumbledore, or should I say my Godfather, sent Hermione and I to Hogsmeade to get my school supplies and show me around Hogwarts." I said smiling politely up at him. He paused for a moment with a look on his face that said he didn't realize who I was and dropped his hands down. "Don't talk back to me, Ms. L/n is it?" I nodded my head, trying to make it seem I wasn't scared of him, even though if I was being honest I was a bit spooked. "Well just because you are part of my house and Albus' goddaughter does not mean you will get special treatment." he said raising his voice a tad. "Of course not, Sir" I said politely, smirking. "Now if you will excuse us Hermione was showing me to my classes." I said grabbing her hand and stepping around him. "Don't get smart with me L/n!" he said as we kept walking. I heard him let out an angry sigh and walk off, I turned to watch him and saw his robe billowing behind him as he left briskly. "Oh. My Gosh. Y/n! You could have gotten us in so much trouble talking to him like that!" Hermione said as we kept walking. "We can't let him know he gets to us or else he will just be more of a pain. Draco warned me but I didn't know he was that cruel."

[birdy-bat-writes]

Lovesick

Word count: 1.9k

Summary: Damian wants to confess to you but he sees someone leaving your apartment. The night goes by with him trying to get a hold of his feeling and try to express them.

Warnings: Intense fluff and some cheesiness.

Pairing: Damian x Gender-neutral reader

Thanks. @anothertimdrakestan for last night’s conversation that inspired this and thank you @animefangurl1981 for calling me a “fluffy bitch” because you were right :) Enjoy some fluff people!!!

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Today was the day. Damian Wayne decided he was going to tell you how he felt about you. He didn’t know what prompted him to do something like this tonight, out of the blue but he was ready to. He didn’t take a car, just began walking to your building. The walk turned into a jog when it started to drizzle and then rain. He reached the gate, butterflies in his stomach, and then he saw you hugging a man. The butterflies now felt like bullets striking into him. Who is that?

"You sure you don't want me to drive you there?" He heard you ask. Damian’s heart shattered.

"Stop worrying I'll be fine. I'll text you when I get home." Damian turned away with an ache in his chest and just stood there in the pouring rain. The man’s car passed through the gateway and he glowered at its tires as it drove away. He marched around the building and paced around the lobby for maybe the thirty minutes. The heat radiating off of his body from sheer anger was enough to keep the cold at bay.

"What are you doing out here?!" He turned to find you in your pajamas, brightly colored rain boots and a big umbrella over your head. He had thousands of thoughts going through his head and he wanted to scream, shout, say anything. He wanted to confess, demand to know who just left your apartment and scream at the sky all at once but for some reason, the ability to speak flew out the window as soon as he saw you standing in front of him wide eyed, concerned and confused. He didn't like seeing you upset or worried in any way, and in his head and heart, that took priority over what he had to say. He realized he had been standing there for nearly 10 seconds without saying a word, so he mustered up to the strength to say something when, "You are going to catch a cold, you absolute Muppet!" You grabbed him by the wrist and dragged him up the stairs. "Its 40 degrees Fahrenheit! And raining! What are you doing here and why didn't you come up to the apartment? You’re soaked." The questioning continued all the way up with only short, curt answers from him. His voice softened slightly when you stopped talking and just looked at him with genuine worry.

"I'm fine, Y/N I just wanted to see you. I got stuck in the rain." There was way more to that than he was letting on and you knew it. He even knew that you knew it, but the great thing about being best friends is that you knew when not to pry, and you both knew that when he was ready, he would tell you. Right now, your main concern was getting him out of these wet clothes and into something warmer. You appeared in front on him with a towel in hand.

"Take off your shirt."

"What?" Evidently, you didn’t realize how that sounded.

"Actually, just go have a warm shower, you already look like you've caught a cold." You handed him the towel. Everything from the way he stood stiff as a board to the way he couldn't meet your eyes gave away his intense agitation. With a softer voice, you continued, "I’ll leave some dry clothes on the bed. After that we can watch movies or just talk. What are we feeling tonight? Chinese take-out? Italian?" The corners of your mouth turned up a little at the end. It was clearly contagious because he looked up a little and said with a slight smirk,

"Y/N, who would pick Chinese over Italian?" You smiled back at him and walked off to place the order while he walked over to your bathroom. It wasn't until the warm water hit his skin that he realized how cold he really felt. Most people think and let their mind wander while they shower but all Damian needed right now was to clear his head. A good 20 minutes later, he stepped out and saw a black sweatshirt and a pair of gray sweatpants on your bed, complete with a pair of rainbow tube socks. He shook his head in amusement, knowing that you picked the rainbow ones on purpose. After getting dressed, he stepped in front of the mirror and raked his fingers through his still wet hair, taking notice of how familiar this sweatshirt looked. Deciding not to dwell on it, he made his to the living room.

"Good news, the Italian place delivers so it should be- why is your hair still wet?"

"Tt, it will dry soon enough." You just looked at him blankly and sighed. He watched you walk right past him and into your bedroom and return with a hairdryer and his damp towel in hand. You motioned for him to sit down on the couch and plugged the dryer into the outlet.

"We can watch 101 Dalmatians if you want" He scrunched up his face while you jostled the towel around his head. It was actually quite funny.

"We can watch anything you want." You turned the dryer on and hovered it over his head, making sure to gently hold his forehead so hair didn't fly on it.

"Lion King then, also, I think you have a fever. Your forehead is warm."

"It’s probably the heat from the dryer you're feeling."

"Deny it all you want, but remember if I don't take care of you, Alfred will. There's no escape." His body relaxed slightly, and you took this opportunity to lay his head back against your stomach, lightly combing through his dark locks with your fingers.

Ever since Damian saw that man, he had been a little broken. Nothing felt right with the world. The world was right when you would hug him and hold on tighter when you thought he would let go, and when you laughed so hard you would stumble, the world was right when you were with him and when he was with you because you were, are and will always be his world. Things still weren't clear, and he didn't yet have the courage to ask about the man, but for now, your hands in his hair and your sarcasm were enough to bring him comfort. You turned off the dryer when his hair was dry and combed the front slightly to the side. When you moved in front of him to admire your work, you had to bite back a laugh. His hair wasn't in its usual tame form, but instead slightly wavy and very fluffy, with tufts of it sticking up in every direction.

Eventually you couldn't hide your laughter which caused Damian to toss a pillow at you!

"Alright, what did you do to my hair?"

“I dried it!” He started walking up to holding another pillow when the doorbell rang. Saved by the bell.

You laid the food out on the table and picked up your boxes, opting to eat in front of the TV. Damian took the spot next you with his food and started flipping through networks until he found Disney+. Various dramatizations of Hakuna Matata, and a few “Fight me’s” later, you both put away your boxes and sat back down. He noticed the way you huddled close to him and pulled a blanket over the two of you. Warmth coursed through your body and you felt yourself relax. He expected you to move away but instead, you rested one arm on his chest and pulled your body closer to his. "Dami, are you okay?"

"Yes. Why wouldn't I be?"

"You just didn't seem yourself today."

"Y/n, who's clothes are these?"

"The sweatpants are my brother's and the sweatshirt is yours actually. Well, was yours. It's mine now."

"Hold on, mine?"

“It was that one time we had dinner at your place, when my shirt tore. And I was hiding upstairs so no one would see it and then you came and asked me what was wrong and when I told you, you gave me this. When I wore it, you took me back downstairs and complained-"

"That no one there was fun to talk to except for you." You breathed out and smiled against the soft material of the sweatshirt.

"I offered to give it back once, but you told me I could keep it. I love this thing." You couldn't see it but Damian was looking down at you with a smile. How can a person be so cute? No wonder that man was here. Anyone would fall for you.

"Y/N, there was a man here earlier, right?" You raised your head up in question.

"Yeah. My brother stopped by today for lunch." Hold the phone. Brother?!

"Your brother...?"

"He’s going on a business trip tonight, so he spent some time here before he left. How did you know?"

"I saw his car leave." He sniffled. Oh my gosh it made sense now! If you were seeing someone you would have told him. There was nothing for him to worry about now.

"Y/N-"

"I'll be right back." you said, getting up. A few short minutes later, you arrived with a thermometer, cough drops, cold medicine, tissues and vapo- rub.

"Ok, put the vapor rub on your chest, and say ah."

"This is undignified."

"I could always call Alfred." With and eye roll, he opened his mouth. 100 degrees.

"You have a fever." To be honest, he had a bit of a headache, but it was nothing he couldn't handle. And he had tissues for the leaking nose. In all honesty, Damian did not want to admit that he was sick, nor that he got sick because of his stubbornness and silliness. "You're spending the night over. Want me to put some spare blankets in the guest Room?"

"I appreciate it, but you don't have to do all of this. I can take care of myself."

"I know you can, but you don't have to all the time. And besides you'd do the same for me if I was sick. Plus, more scolding and more blankets." Your generosity always astounded him. You were one of the few people who didn't make help seem like charity and he trusted you enough to be vulnerable around you because you never made him feel weak. You always lifted each other up, and he loved that.

"Thank you."

“You're more than welcome." You said, dabbing some vapor rub on his nose and hugging him once more.  His hand instinctively went up your head and stroked your hair.

"Y/n do you like someone?"

"Yeah, do you?

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Do you?"

"Yes."

“Who?”

"I asked you first!" It wasn't normal for him to pull a card like that.

"Ok, pinky promise, I'll tell you if you me." He just looked at your hand on his chest, uncurled your fingers and slide them between his, gently rubbing the side of your thumb.

"You."

"Really?" He felt your voice shake and stopped.

"Who's yours?"

"You." The two of you sat there in an exasperated silence. You were both happy and speechless. The silence was broken by a sneeze, courtesy of Damian. "Bless you."

"I can’t believe you didn’t tell me!”

“You didn’t tell me!”

“How long?”

“A while. How about you?”

“Long enough to fall in love with you.”

"I probably love you more." You challenged, blushing.

"Not-" your lips were on his. He let himself melt into you. The kiss was slow but deep, conveying the years of yearning and love you had for one another. Then his better judgement kicked it and he pulled away. "You'll get sick."

"I don't care, I just really had to kiss you."

"Oh god, you're so cheesy.”

"You love it, love bug."

"No." He laughed out.

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Taglist: @anothertimdrakestan

[childofhalloween]

A Story With No Name Aka Why You Don't Ask Idoits for Dating Advice

So this was a short little one shot I got an idea for after binging Graystillplays Sims videos for days. If the formatting or anything seems off it's because I wrote it all on a phone. Well this short one shot turned out 9 pages long opps. So I hope you enjoy. Also writing an Austrillis slow burn not really sure where it goes but if anyone is interested let me know. Anyways onto the show! Thomas Alan Wenis better known as Tommy looked down at the paper in his hand. This address had to be a mistake. He had just flown down to Florida to get away for a while, see the ocean, maybe even clear up his depression. He hadn't brought much with him just an old suitcase and what little money he drained from his savings account.

That was exactly what attracted him to the random message board offering low rent living. With the price of rent all Tommy was expecting was a cot in a closet somewhere. Not that he minded as long as he had a roof and somewhere to put his black boots he didn't care.

But this, this wasn't right. Couldn't be right. The place was huge. Probably the biggest house he had ever seen. 4 floors are least and he could see the corner a large pool in the back.

He checked the address of his contact Melvin, and it matched. This had to be some sort of scheme. He knew it was too good to be true, like everything else in his life.

With a sigh he picked up his bag walking to the front door. Maybe they would be able to at least point him in the right direction.

Ringing the bell he sat out on the front step for a moment before the large oak door opened and a man dressed only in a towel and some sneakers opened the door.

"Uhhh hi. I'm sorry to disturb you but I am looking for someone at this address. His name is Melvin." Tommy said avoiding eye contact with the red haired man.

"Yeah that's me! Melvin Eugene Johnston. But everyone just calls me Florida Man." He said holding out his hand Tommy awkwardly taking it. "You must be Tommy!"

"Uhhh yeah. I'm sorry did I come at a bad time?" He said motioning to the towel.

"Huh this? Nah. Just like to feel a cool breeze if you know what I mean." He joked opening the door motioning for him to come in.

The place was almost too much for Tommy to take in but nonetheless followed Florida Man on a tour around the house.

"I uhhh….I hate to say I think I miss understood about the price." Tommy said knowing their was no way he could ever afford a place like this.

"Oh don't stress about it. Just get me the $300 whenever. Everyone here is pretty cool. We all just pitch in when we can ya know? We all take turns cleaning and cooking….well except for Aussie. Fire department said they are gonna fine us for another kitchen fire." He said casually. Tommy couldn't help but wonder what he was getting into.

"Then toss in some cash for some beers or food when ya can. Everyone just kind of does their own thing. You will see all kinds of people come and go. Right now we got a lot of our 'lifers'."

"How can you afford this place?" Tommy said looking at another large staircase.

"Oh it's already paid for. I bought it with the money from my lawsuit with Madonna."

"You sued Madonna!?!" Tommy said, not believing what he was hearing.

“Oh yeah I did. Her show was supposed to start at 8 she didn't go on till 10. I wasted so much money on overpriced water down beer I don't even remember the damn thing. Next thing I know I'm in the hospital. Apparently I fell down 12 rows of concrete stairs trying to get some nachos from concessions." He said casually as he continued. "Then I used the money I won to buy this place but it got lonely & quiet by myself so I started renting out rooms. Made for one big odd family."

Opening a door he motioned to Tommy "So here's your room. Get comfortable. When you're done feel free to head on down to the kitchen, meet everyone."

Tommy had hoped he could even find his way back down to the kitchen. It was going to take a little while to get used to this place. He still couldn't wrap his mind around all of this.

But unbeknownst to him the craziest part was yet to come. His new roommates.

Finally finding the kitchen he saw Floridaman busy having a beer next to a tall man with the most epic red beard he'd ever seen and a smaller but seemingly louder blond wearing sunglasses. And behind them both a slightly deranged looking man with jet black hair.

They all seemed to get quiet as he walked awkwardly into the kitchen.

"I was wondering if you were going to find us." Florida Man said thrusting a Bud Lite in Tommy's hand not bothering to ask if he'd want one. "Boys this is our newest guest Tommy Wenis"

The blond let out an almost mocking laugh.

"Wenis!?! Ya gotta be bloody kiddin me. Bet that must have been a rough primary career. The names are just endless!"

"Don't listen to him, he can be a jerk but he doesn't really mean it." The redhead said standing up holding out his hand cordially. "Names Tim by the way."

"Ahhh I'm just taking the piss with ya mate...kinda. Name's Trevor but everyone here likes to call me Australian Man. Ya know obvious reasons."

Finally the dark hair man with the slightly odd shaped face spoke up. "And I'm Colono. Colono Scopy"

"Uh huh...so is this everyone who lives here?" Tommy said looking at the motley crew in front of him.

"No the girls are off doing something or another. I think they mentioned girls day. I don't know I wasn't listening." Florida Man said, looking at the clock on the stove. "But they should be back any minute."

As if on cue the door opened and the sound of over lapped talking was heard.

"Speak of the devil mate." Australian Man said slightly in awe of Florida Man's timing.

A brunette wearing what looked to be a thrift store tourist shirt walked into the kitchen.

"Hey Whitley come here meet our new roommate Tommy." Florida Man said.

"Hey I'm Whitley " she shook his hand. He couldn't help but notice the slight smell of cheap bottom shelf vodka radiating off her.

Next a woman walked in with the best blond afro Tommy had ever seen.

"Hey Bab this is our new roommate Tom-"

"Maybe he'll last longer then the others." Bab said almost miserably as she walked out the back door not stopping.

"Sorry she's kin-d of…." Florida Man tried to think of the word.

"Manic Depressive." The girl with blonde and pink braids said matter of factly. "Text book diagnosis really."

"Are you a Dr?" Tommy asked everyone just laughed.

"Not in the slightest. Just been through a lot of psychologists."

"Ellis Dee, meet Tommy." Florida Man introduced.

"Tommy Wenis." Australian Man said with a snicker.

"Oh my God do people call you Tiny Wenis?" Ellis said with a giggle.

It didn't matter though because all Tommy's attention was now focused on the tall blond with golden hair walking in. He had never seen anyone like her. She was like nothing he'd ever encountered. She was…..she was…..she was absolutely stunning.

"Whose that?" Tommy asked Tim quietly.

"Huh? Oh that's Beth. Be nice, she's a sweet girl." Tim whispered back.

"Hey Beth say hi to Tommy the new guy." Florida said.

"Hi name's Beth." She introduced herself in a thick Southern accent.

"I….uhh...I'm Tommy." Tommy managed to mumble out.

All the guys exchanged an odd look.

"So where are ya rollin in from?" She asked with a smile.

"....I uhhh… I come from….places. I gotta go." He said, scrambling out of the kitchen to his room.

"That was odd." Colono said all the others nodded.

As the months went on Tommy found he had more in common with this rag tag bunch then he ever had with anyone else. He spent his days joking with Colono, drinking beers with the Florida Man & Australian Man, discussing art with Bab Ross, hitting the occasional bong with Ellis Dee, and pretty much bonding with everyone.

Everyone that is except for Beth. It seemed like every time they had a moment together his mind just blanked. Like it shut down to nothing and he couldn't figure out what the hell to say so he would say something awkward and just excuse himself.

It became apparent to everyone what was going on, everyone that was except Beth as she walked into the living room one day.

"Mind if I sat by ya hun?" She asked. He looked up at her eyes wide.

"I….uhh….murder show…..its over…..here you go. For you." He said, tossing the remote at her feet before running out the room.

"Ouch that was painful to watch." Australian Man looked up from the card game the guys had been playing.

Tommy pulled out a chair and plopped down not responding.

"Hey man, it's0 ok you will get her next time." Florid Man said putting a hand on his shoulder sympathetically….well really trying to sneak a peek at Colono's cards

"Ughhh. It's like everytime I try to talk to her I look like a total ass." Tommy grumbled.

"Yah we know, we all seen it." Australian Man joked as threw another chip in the pot.

"Well what am I supposed to say? Hey I think you're gorgeous, will you have a coffee with me?" He said, causing all the other men to laugh.

"No, no. You're thinking too much into it. What women love to hear is compliments." Tim Horton said as Bab Ross happened to walk past. "Watch this."

"Hello Bab you are looking positively radiant today!" Tim said, putting on a charming smile.

"Whatever you say Tim." Bab said with a shrug as she kept walking.

This caused all the other men to crack up.

"Laugh all you want but she acknowledged me. That's progress."

"Nah ya got it all wrong mate. What birds really dig on is a badass." Australian Man said getting up walking to the back yard. "This is how it's done boys."

Strutting slightly he slid up to Ellis Dee who was sitting outside enjoying the sun.

"Hey Ellie." He said acting casual.

"Oh hey Aussie what's up?"

"Did I ever tell you about the time I fought off a whole colony of bog frogs?"

"No I don't think you have."

"Yeah I was out with some blokes and came across these wee little bog frogs must have been mating season or something because next thing I know I'm surrounded by the little wankers! So I start beating them off me. Kicking, punching them in their little frog faces. Just throwing them off left and right. Turns out the little bastards were poisonous. Woke up in the hospital 2 weeks later handcuffed to the hospital bed. Turns out those little piss frogs are on the 'endangered species' list. Luckily for me though the judge granted the coma as time served. All I got was probation and I'll be off that by next year." Australian Man said cooly before something hit him.

"Probation…..OH SHIT! My probation meeting!" He said looking down at his watch. "I'm 6 fucking months late! I can not be arrested again! FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK!" he said running into the house leaving behind a very confused Ellis Dee.

All the guys watched as Australian Man ran through the house screaming obscenities as he looked for his cell phone.

"Anyways….what about you Florida Man. How do you talk to the ladies?" Tim Horton asked.

Florida Man shrugged and got up walking to the kitchen to see Whitley at the table drinking a large glass of orange juice.

"Bud Lite?" Florida Man offered holding out a beer. She looked at him confused.

"Its only 11 not even noon. Too early for beer." she said.

"Ok." Florida Man said walking back with both beers.

"Mornings are for screwdrivers." Whitley said to herself pour more dollar vodka into her drink.

"No, no I am sure I called. Yeah right when I landed. No I made sure I message with a Shelly? Or maybe a Jan? Or was it a Steven? I'm not sure. Mighta been a new?.....oh maybe a temp! Bloody hard to find good help huh? I'm sure it's there just check the last few months. Ring when this is all cleared up." Australian Man said, hanging up his phone not waiting for a reply on the other end. "Bloody cunts..….so what'd I miss."

"That's it. That's the only move I got." Florida Man said with a shrug.

"You guys are hopeless. No wonder I'm the only one in a relationship." Colono complained before turning to Tommy. "Tommy don't listen to them they are all going to die alone."

"Hey!"

"Fuck ya too!

"That was rude….but true."

"Women, they love romance. You can sweep a woman off her feet just by words. Just watch my example gentlemen." Colono said as he sauntered out the door to Flo Cane who was watching tv.

"Oh there she is mi amor. I was looking everywhere for you." He said sliding next to her.

"What is it? On no! Are you having issues again? Is the burning back? Have you been taking your meds? Do I need to call the Dr for you again?"

"What!?! No! That's not it!" Colono said in a panic as the sound of laughter came from around the corner.

"Hey don't listen to them. You know stress makes it worse." Flo comforted.

"It's not that!" Colono said frustrated.

"Are you sure? I know how cranky you get when you forget to take your meds."

"I'm not cranky!" Colono yelled as he stormed off.

"I'm making you an appointment just to be sure! I know you are scared of making phone calls." She shouted after him as he stormed off.

The other guys were currently in a huge pile on the floor in total hysterics none of them were able to stand. It took almost 10mins for them to calm down to breathe.

Finally collecting himself Tommy stood up straightening out his clothes. After all that advice he had finally figured it out. He knew what he had to do. Mustering up all the courage he could he moved forward before he could chicken out.

"Where are you going?" Florida Man asked as Tommy made his way outside.

"I'm going to do what I need to." He said walking out into the back yard where the girls currently huddled together talking about how weird the morning had been.

"Hello ladies. Can I talk to Beth alone please?" He asked.

Suddenly a lot made sense as they gave each other a knowing look.

"She's all yours." Whitley said with a l knowing smirk.

Silence still overcame the 2 as they sat there totally obvious to the group of 8 peering around the corner.

"What did you want to talk about?" Beth asked looking over slightly confused about what had been going on. From what she heard it's been a very confusing day.

"I…..I…." He took a deep breath before blurting out quickly. "I think you're absolutely gorgeous and would you like to get coffee with me?"

It took Beth a moment to even figure out what he had said and then another for it to really register.

"You, you think I'm pretty?" She said shocked no one had said anything like that before.

"Gorgeous actually." He said his face was burning red. "Look if I offended you, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to-"

"Yes." She cut him off.

"Huh?"

"I would love to get coffee with you." She said as a big smile crossed her face.

"Ok when?"

"Now?" She suggested.

"Sounds great." He said getting up offering his hand to her. "I know a great place."

They both walked right past the group of the gawkers so invested in their conversation they didn't even seem to notice.

"Oh my God that is the sweetest thing I've ever seen!" Whitley gushed.

"Guys are never that romantic. She's so lucky." Flo said wistfully.

"Man I wish I could find someone who thinks like that." Ellis mused.

"Yeah it was pretty nice." Bab said in her bored Bab tone.

"Are ya fucking kidding me right now!?!" Australian said, throwing his hands up in the air as he stormed back inside.

"Seriously? That? That's it? Thats romantic?" Colono complained following behind.

"Wow guy did have some skills after all." Florida said patting Tim on the back sympathetically as Tim mumbled to himself annoyed.

"What's their problem?" Bab asked.

"Men are weird." Whitley said all the other girls nodded in agreement.

[turquoisemagpie]

Do you know what’s worth fighting for,
 When it’s not worth dying for?

I wear a chain around my neck. It’s not that obvious as I keep it tucked away when engaged in a mission; I don’t want it getting damaged or lost. ‘Saving the world’ can be exhausting at times, painful most of those times, and at the end of each mission I take I wonder why I carry on doing this to myself. The bullet answers that wonder all the time. Any given break I get, I take the time to take a look at it. 

I got the bullet on the day I was taken away. I was 9 years old. A week before I was taken away my mother’s body was finally found after 2 months searching for her when she went missing. My father went to the crime scene with the police, and when he came back he quickly packed our things and we left the house, never to come back to it. At the time he never explained to me why we left, or why everywhere we went that he looked over his shoulder ever now and then, or why I was never to answer any phone calls we got to any of the apartments we moved too and fro from. 6 days into leaving the house I asked him what was going on. He pulled out a piece of paper and drew a symbol. 

 I recognised the symbol. From 5 years old, people in white coats started coming to our house; just a day after I had punched a bully in school and got him badly hurt somehow. On their first visit they asked me if I felt more ’special’ than the other kids. My mother interrupted before I could answer them, telling the people in the white coats to leave and never come back. They left, but they came back. Once every month. Every visit my mother and father were nervous around them, but whenever the white coats started talking to me or tried to get close to me, my parents would stop them. They were odd people, I thought. And on their coats they wore this symbol. 

My father said that same symbol was carved into the flesh of my mother’s belly.  

He told me to never trust them if they would ever approach me when I was alone. I asked him what they wanted with me. He didn’t answer. 

On the 7 day, they came. My father heard their grey vans pull up on the street outside the apartment we were staying in. He grabbed me away from the window and grabbed our already packed bags. But it was too late; the main stairway and the fire exit stairway was already packed with armoured soldiers in grey. We were cornered inside the apartment, left only to wait for the shouting and heavy boot steps to get closer and closer. My father took this time to hug me close, apologise for everything 30 times over, and telling me he loved me 50 times over. 

Something welled up inside me. I knew we were in big trouble; if we weren’t going to be killed, then we’d be hurt very badly, for reasons that had everything to do with me. I felt responsible for it all. I wasn’t going to cower from it. I parted from my father and stood in front of him as the soldiers burst through the doors. 

10 bullets were fired. 5 of them entered my father’s torso, 3 of them ruptured the aorta of his heart, killing him within seconds. 4 of them went into the wall of the apartment. 1 of them, I caught with my hand. I reached out feebly as the bullets were fired, thinking that would stop us getting hit. I didn’t know what to expect, I didn’t expect anything. Except death. Then I felt it hit the palm of my outstretched hand and I clasped as the sensation hit me. My eyes were closed and I was too scared to open them for fear of seeing a gruesome hole in my hand. But when the bullets finally stopped and the room went silent, I peeked. 

My hand seemed fine, white and pulled at the skin from squeezing my fist so hard, but still in one piece. In the few strange seconds of nothing, when the soldiers lowered their guns and stared at me, when my father’s body slowly slumped over to the floor, I opened my hand to see what had happened to the bullet I caught. It was a copper colour, and very shiny, it would otherwise have been a very well polished bullet. But there, in my tiny 9 year old hand, it was crumpled and twisted, the outline of my tiny chubby fingers indented in the metal. 

That’s when it hit me. That’s when all the questions I had been asking nearly all my life had suddenly been answered. 

This brass nugget of metal, that was only a few seconds ago a bullet aimed to pierce through my flesh, was the reason these soldiers had shown up in the first place. It was why we had regular visits from the people in white coats, who kept asking me how my day at school was. It was why my mother had always pulled me close to her when people gave us mean looks as we walked down the street. It was why my father kept himself at a yard’s distance from me when I threw a tantrum. It was why I was fed medicine and antibiotics, instead of being given injections. It was why I didn’t feel much pain when the bullies threw rocks and brick pieces at me. And it was why the soldier fired straight at me in order to only kill my father. 

I was a very special child, and the men in white coats wanted what I had.

I reached for my father. I don’t know whether it was the instant acknowledgement and fear of being taken away, or whether it was the absolute certainty that my father was definitely dead, either way I was screaming for him, crying my eyes out, grabbing at his shirt and pulling at for any sign that he was still alive. The soldiers had to pick me up, and I kicked and screamed the whole time they carried me out of the apartment. As soon as we were out they rushed me into one of their grey vans, where a white coat was waiting for me. They sat me down in a seat and strapped my arms and legs down in thin metal clamps, but I broke through them easily. They had to hold me down themselves, two men on each of my limbs. The white coat approached me by my head. She had a soft voice, she hushed at me, yelling me calmly and quietly that everything would be ok. Then she strapped the silicone mask to my mouth and nose. Everything went blurry after that. 

I spent 11 years in the white coat’s facility. They did the usual stuff you’d expect a secret evil testing facility would do; severely beating subjects when they disobey, drugging subjects, keeping subjects confined in small quarters, no personal possessions, set meal times, lights out and wake up calls, setting up exercises and tasks for subjects to complete, success was awarded with very little and mistakes were punished severely. For me, their exercises and tasks involved pushing me to my fitness and physique’s limits. They were pleased with how quickly I learnt and how tolerable I was to pain; they enjoyed zapping me with electric probes when I least expected it, just to see what I’d do. 

One day I had had a bad night’s sleep, the food was cold and very little, and the task observer had laughed a little too hard when I was zapped for the 5th time. I’d had enough. I left, as easy as that; they trained me up enough for it to be as easy as it was.

They chased me for a good 5 months, but I managed to stay ahead every time. I ran them in circles in every city we ran through and eventually, like threading a thread through a maze of wooden pegs, they got tangled and couldn’t move any further to catch up with me. They seemed to have accepted their loss and I haven’t seen them since. 

Somehow, throughout everything, I still managed to keep the crushed bullet with me. The white coats never took it off me, I don’t even think they knew or cared that I had it. Which is good really, because the bullet means a lot to me. It’s bittersweet, the meaning behind it. The bullet symbolises the moment I knew I had a power that could change the world; it also symbolised the only bullet out of the many that I managed to stop before it hit my father. It symbolises how ineffective I was to save a life, I had unimaginable power and strength but I still couldn’t save the one life that mattered to me. 

I don’t intend to ever let that happen again. I keep this bullet with me everywhere I go, looped around a chain on my neck. 

Any given break I get, I take the time to take a look at it, and make sure the memories come flooding back to remind me why I’m doing this.

[welllpthisishappening]

But Once a Year (3/5)

This is a trick.

It has to be. Something Pan planned, or some nonsense only possible in Neverland, because one second Emma’s sitting outside the Echo Caves and wondering how exactly things could possibly get worse, and then the world decides to take her up on the challenge. She’s not where she was. Or when she was, either.

And the future isn’t entirely what Emma expects it to be, but that might not be entirely horrible and Christmas with a husband and a family that quite clearly loves her is only kind of messing with her head. God bless us, every one.

————

Rating: T Word Count: 9K and change, but also stuff happens AN: I cannot tell you guys how much I appreciate you continuing to appreciate this story. It’s exceptionally nice, and I think you’re wonderful. Here’s a whole slew of feelings and tradition and magic. Like, lots of magic. 

Also on Ao3 if that’s how you roll || Or start from the start

————

This is a problem. 

Multiple problems, honestly. Like, at least seven different problems that Emma can think of off the top of her head, and obviously the most pressing is getting back to the right part of her timeline, but only marginally less distressing is the overall domesticity of her life at this point of her timeline. 

It’s more than the pillows. Of which there are just an absolutely ridiculous amount, actually. They hover in couch corners and fall to the floor with alarming regularity because, between the two of them, Hope and Lucy are something akin to forces of nature, hopped up on Christmas-type sugar and the cookies that people apparently just hand out on the street in Storybrooke. Someone’s always got some sort of baked good, freshly out of the oven — and while Emma’s discovered she’s particularly partial to Granny’s snickerdoodles, she can’t imagine any of this is very efficient. 

For Storybrooke’s economy, or whatever. 

There’s no bank. Emma looked. And asked. Several dwarfs, actually. All of whom immediately bowed and narrowed their eyes at her like she’d totally lost her mind, which seems pretty accurate at this point. Five days after waking up on that couch, with all of its pillows and questionable comfort, and only a handful of people actually know what’s going on. 

Not Hope. 

And no one actually told her to do that, but Emma figures it’s kind of like deciding to take her boots off in the house. Polite. Plus, a growing determination not to traumatize a ridiculously cute four-year-old, even when that four-year-old appears to be far more adept at stealing cookies than anything else. 

Crumbs line the counter in the morning, and there’s usually a bit of evidence directly outside Hope’s bedroom door, signs of a late-night theft that shouldn’t make Emma smile. She does anyway. Can’t seem to stop it, which might be problem number four. Three is definitely Killian’s consistent lack of jacket, which admittedly is a very surface problem, but the button-up shirts are all ridiculously patterned, and trying not to ask who initially took him shopping is like, problem, three sub-a. 

So, no one tells Hope that her mom isn’t her mom. Technically speaking, at least. They go through the motions, and Emma smiles when she’s supposed to, and she eats what is undoubtedly the world record for snickerdoodle consumption by a wayward princess, but trying to be herself, while also not being herself continues to be a rather daunting prospect. 

Particularly because whomever Regina believed would know more about Neverland vegetation and its ability to ruin everything is taking their sweet time responding or showing up in Storybrooke, and they’ve tried what feels like several thousand things to get Emma back, but magic beans were a no-go, and some very fancy wand didn’t do anything except infuriate Regina with it uselessness, and it’s still Christmas, so there are apparently a metric shit ton of traditions and expectations, and—

“Wait, what?” Emma asks, perched on the edge of her desk in the station because that’s at least something she’s used to. Less so to Killian’s presence at the only other desk, and she doesn’t remember the only other desk being quite so close to her’s, but it’s entirely possible that’s a trick of her not-quite coherent mind. 

Might be problem six. Maybe seven. Making it six gives it power, and acknowledges how much the state of his tongue continues to affect her cognitive abilities. Of which there were already very few, especially while she was exhausted in Neverland, and Emma’s not willing to risk anymore. 

“It’s something of a requirement,” Killian says, not for the first time. Princesses have a ridiculous number of requirements, Emma’s rather quickly learned. And he can’t seem to sit straight in any chair. Also ridiculous. 

“Does that not hurt your spine?”

Shrugging, he smirks at her and that’s been happening more often. Not that she’s keeping track, or anything. She’s just—aware, that’s totally the right word. Of him, and what he does with his face and his patterned shirts, and there’s been no bare arm again, but Emma’s still not really his wife, and she knows the hours he’s spent holed up in one of the copious rooms in their quasi-mansion have been dedicated to research. 

And getting his wife back. 

That’s fine. It’s fine. Definitely not a problem. Hasn’t even crossed her mind. 

Emma doesn’t want him to want her. Like, ever. 

And they’re waiting for her dad, anyway. To report back on some magical failing in Wonderland. Seriously, everything is so fine that it's almost a problem as well. It’s too fine. Everything is—

Great. 

“Are you concerned about the state of my spine, darling?”

Melting is not an option — so far as Emma is aware of, but it’s certainly very appealing in the moment. When that moment includes tilted lips and an angled neck seemingly designed to ensure Killian’s hair falls artfully across his forehead, as if the strands are there to frame his eyes and the hint of light in them. 

She takes a deep breath. 

The light brightens. Or she imagines. 

“A tree lighting, though,” Emma says, not-so-subtly changing the subject. Killian’s brows jump. Up his forehead and past those strands of hair she’s only passably obsessed with. “Isn’t that kind of...I don’t know, it’s not very fairy tale.” “Regina lights the candles with magic, if that helps.” “So why do I have to be there?” “The monarchy usually stands on a platform, waves lovingly to their subjects and—” “—God, how is there more?” Emma balks, but that only gets her a more powerful smirk and eyes that are far too blue to be fair, and they still haven’t painted the dining room. She’s not going to ask about that. 

She’s not. 

“This is something of the central hub for the rest of the United Realms,” Killian explains, “and with Regina and the Charmings here, it makes sense that people...flock.” “Like birds.” “Not the ones your mother can commune with, but I suppose the metaphor is appropriate.”

“Who decided to hold Regina’s queen election?” Eyeing her speculatively, Emma does her very best not to wither under Killian’s expression. She’s not altogether confident it works, but they’ve almost come to something like an understanding, and it’s very easy. This, them. No, not them. There’s no them and while Emma’s done her fair share of staring, there can’t be a them now because that will undoubtedly fuck with the timeline and probably everything else, just to keep inspiring problematic lists, and her increasing desire to kiss him until he also has to deal with wobbly knees is just something she’s going to have to deal with. 

“Maybe I won’t remember when I get back,” Emma reasons, but that one word comes out as wobbly as her knees have been and Killian purses his lips. “Ok, fine—tell me something totally random, then. A fun-fact, as it were.” “Random.” “Do you not know what that means?” He rolls his eyes. “I know at least three more languages than you do, so—” “—No you do not!”

Nodding, Killian smiles over the edge of his coffee mug, and neither one of them mention that his proclivity to drinking a gallon of coffee every morning could probably be this so-called fun fact. “English, obviously, and—” “—Ok, I can clearly speak English,” Emma argues. She nearly bites her tongue in half at the force of Killian’s answering look, part amusement and even more heat and that only circles her back around to the melting thing. 

“Aye, but I definitely know more curses than you do, so that’s got to count for something. Also that’s simply my base language, as it were.” She sneers. He chuckles. Into the mug, but it feels like the emotion behind it sinks under Emma’s skin and times up with her pulse, less erratic than it had been those first few nights, and she’s actually started sleeping consistently. “Then of course, I’m rather familiar with Latin.” “Dead, it doesn’t count.” “Impressive, though.” “Sounds like you’re fishing for compliments, Captain.” “Unnecessary, when I know you’ll be all wide-eyed and amazed in a moment,” Killian promises, swinging his legs to prop his feet on the edge of her desk. “There’s also Greek, and—” Waving her hands, Emma doesn’t explicitly try to swat at his legs, but he’s just so goddamn close, and still exuding heat, and she’s starting to have some assumptions about that as well. Of the possibly magic and decidedly—no she’s not doing that. They’re not that. Not like this, anyway. And Killian doesn’t immediately move, but that only lulls her into a false sense of security, the metal of his hook is cold enough that she yelps when it circles both her wrists.

“Fairy,” he finishes, and Emma refuses to believe he leans forward on purpose. 

“No.” “You keep objecting to my facts and you’ll give a man a complex, Swan.” “Why would you know Greek, you’re a—” “—Fairy tale character?” 

Emma presses her lips together. So as not to make an undignified noise. She’s already whimpered enough, and cried more than she thought possible and the hitch in his voice threatens to shatter several things. Moving her hands is impossible, which is probably for the best, but all of her would very much like to cup his cheek, if only to see if he’ll kiss the inside of her wrist, and she’s like ninety-two percent positive he would. “Pirate prince,” she corrects lightly, and does get her a smile. “Do you have an official title here?” “Captain.” “That’s it?” “Not impressive enough, huh?”

There’s no music on in the station, but they’re clearly dancing all the same — around each other, and the maelstrom of feelings Emma is doing a God awful job of ignoring, and at some point one of them is going to have to pull away from the other. In more ways than one. 

“I didn’t say that,” she shakes, “and don’t bother telling me it’s another argument, I don’t care. I’m just—curious, I guess.” “About me?”

Nodding is the least dangerous response when she’s so worried about tripping over her own feet in this metaphorical waltz, but it’s one of the more accurate things she’s said since she got here, and now she’s got an excuse. No repercussions, nothing exactly permanent about these conversations, or this information, and no one’s told her whether or not she’ll retain her memories once she gets back, but they also don’t know she’ll get back so—

Fuck it, honestly. 

“Yeah,” Emma replies, not bothering to gloat when Killian’s the one whose eyes go wide first. 

“Oh.” “Is that unexpected?” “Maybe at this point.”

Humming, she files that away, preening slightly under the not-quite-compliment. “Not an answer though. Habit of yours.” “Not really, you’re just very demanding in this incarnation.” “Product of my situation, I guess.” He laughs. It’s something that happens more often here than it did when Emma knew him — knows him, whatever tenses get confusing in time travel. Still, the sound consistently manages to catch her off guard. Free and easy, and the magic that rustles in the back of her brain might deserve its own list. 

Or another conversation with Regina. “The Royal Navy,” Killian says, an answer Emma nearly forgot she wanted. Her eyes widen. He looks triumphant. “See, told you.” “Like an Enchanted Forest GI bill, huh? See new lands, learn new languages.” “Something like that, aye.” “How’d you get to fairy?” “Did you meet the Lady Bell before—” “—I got yanked out of Neverland?” Emma quips, and it might be a defense mechanism. Making jokes, but she also hasn’t gone into detail about the plant-thing yet, and that might be because she doesn’t want to freak him out. 

Anymore than he already is. He spends at least an hour in that room every night. 

“Yeah, I did,” she adds,” after she kidnapped Regina and told us Greg and Tamara were dead, which...y’know—” “—Wasn’t the worst thing in the world?” “Does that make me a horrible person?” Killian shakes his head. “I don’t think so.” “Are you going to tell me you learned fairy language from an actual fairy?” “Not much else to do on a hellish island for several hundred years, and it’s a rather complicated tongue. Takes some practice.” “Oh, you’re doing that on purpose now.” The speed of his grin is like molasses. Emma assumes. She’s not sure she’s ever encountered molasses in real life. Even so, the whole thing is bordering on obscene and the opposite of the Christmas spirit and—“Alright,” she concedes, “learning fairy is actually pretty impressive.” “You flatter me, love.”

“What’s your favorite fairy curse word and do you think anyone would be totally scandalized if I used it during this super fancy, exceptionally royal tree lighting?” 

Absolutely, goddamn obscene. The tip of his tongue finds the corner of his mouth, and his eyes get noticeably darker, Emma’s pulse picking up until she’s sure they can hear it on the other side of town, and there’s already barely any space between them, but that appears to be decreasing with every passing second. She’s got no idea who’s moving. She might be moving. 

God, she hopes she’s moving.

Losing control of her limbs may send her off some ledge. 

And she’s just about to throw caution to the seemingly ever-present wind that comes off the harbor, because the front of this patterned shirt looks particularly yankable, but the station door creaks, and a muscle in Killian’s jaw jumps and David clicks his teeth exactly once when he walks in. 

“Interrupting something, am I?” “No, no,” Emma stammers at the same time Killian mumbles “absolutely not,” and neither of those things sound all that honest. 

She’s never gone into cardiac arrest, but if this is what it feels like, it’s kind of disorienting. 

“You hear about the tree lighting, Emma?” David asks, and that’s obviously where her inability to tactfully alter the course of a conversation comes from. Killian rolls his eyes towards the ceiling, slumping back into his chair. 

Exhaling feels like an admission of guilt, but Emma can’t have anything to feel guilty about here, and she hopes Killian’s getting sleep. On the couch. He keeps sleeping on the couch. 

Of course he does. 

“Do I have to wear a gown or anything?” “It’s outside,” David says, “there are trees involved.”

Killian’s hook pokes at his chair arm. “Only one tree, as far as I knew.” “Why are you like this?” “You’re charmed by it, I know,” he chuckles, eyes flashing towards Emma. Coincidence, she’s sure. Her cheeks are very warm. 

She’s very warm. Passably magical, maybe. 

David sighs. “No, there are no gowns. It is in fact only one tree, and Em—you don’t have to say anything. Regina will thank people for coming, Snow will open up the meal and that’ll be that.” “Should I know what the meal is?” Emma asks, and her gaze doesn’t automatically drift towards Killian either. It just, sort of—meanders there, naturally. His tongue is still doing that thing. 

“I was going to get to that part eventually.” “There’s kind of a reception,” David explains, “with cookies.” “Shit, how many cookies can one United Realm eat?” “An exceptional amount,” Killian mutters, and Emma might guffaw. While realizing why her other version had been baking so much before. 

“You don’t have to do anything,” David adds, “just show up and smile, and you’ll get some cookies out of it.” “Will I not get cookies if I don’t smile?” Not able to stop whatever noise rumbles out of him, the force of Killian’s grin makes Emma glad she’s sitting down again. “I’ll swipe you some if you don’t.” “Very gallant.” “Happens from time to time.” Flirting in front of her father is wrong. That’s if this counts as flirting. As far as Emma knows, most of their banter has been a product of their mutually ridiculous lives, and whatever situation they’ve found themselves in at the moment, but this moment doesn’t hold any danger and it is so goddamn easy. 

She smiles. 

Killian beams. 

David sighs again. “Anyone want to hear about Wonderland now? Or how the White Rabbit can’t draw any portals? Or—” “—This is a really extensive list,” Emma grumbles, and Killian’s smile is going to get stuck on his face. Permanently. She’s very charmed by the crinkles around his eyes. 

“Tinker Bell is here.” Slamming his feet back onto the floor, Killian practically snaps to attention, and Emma’s body goes through another reaction she does not expect. What feels suspiciously like jealousy rattles down her spine, rooting her to the spot and drying out her mouth and David’s far too observant. 

He clicks his teeth again. “When?” Killian asks, already standing and offering Emma his hand. She takes it, not thinking about what that means — or how it affects the half-green tint clouding her vision, and her heart misses a beat. As soon as his fingers lace through hers. 

“Just now. Went to Regina’s, but I had to come here, so one of Snow’s birds told me.” “You can talk to the birds too?” Emma balks, stumbling while Killian all but yanks her towards the door. 

“No, no, they carry messages now.” “Ah of course.” “Did Tink say anything yet?” Killian demands, David already shaking his head and they’re picking up speed. All but jogging down Main Street and towards Regina’s office, and the nickname probably isn’t important. It’s fine. Everything is fine. It’s all going to be good. 

Even when the fairy in question snaps towards the office door as it swings open, practically lighting up when she notices Killian and Regina’s eyes go noticeably thin. Staring at Emma like she’s trying to read her mind. 

Her fingers are still tied up with Killian’s. “Hook,” Tinker Bell exclaims, and she doesn’t have any visible wings so she can’t fly out of her chair. She tries all the same, arms that bump Emma as they hug her not-quite husband and he mutters a greeting. It takes a moment for Tinker Bell’s gaze to find Emma, trying and failing to keep her expression even, and Killian might chuckle. 

She kicks his ankle. 

“Emma,” Tink breathes, “it’s good to see you again, you have to get the hell out of this timeline.”

“So, that’s it,” Tinker Bell finishes, shrugging like Emma’s not dangerously close to fully breaking down and Killian’s thumb keeps tapping the side of her palm. Because he’s still holding her hand. Cool, it’s cool. She’s not totally preoccupied with that. 

Regina’s totally staring, anyway. 

“Will-o-wisps,” Killian says, “I thought that was a rumor.” More shrugging. There’s too much shrugging for Emma. “I’ve never heard of it in practice,” Tinker Bell reasons, “but can you think of another plant in Neverland that could do such a thing? That rumor you’re talking about always mentioned how it would draw a traveler in, bewitch them with lights and—were there lights, Emma?”

She nods. Swallows, or tries at least. But her tongue is expanding again, and her heart might be shrinking, and the whole thing feels like a very cruel trick. 

“Pan would have known about all of that,” Tinker Bell continues, “and used it to his advantage. If he could get Emma to follow the light, then she wouldn’t be a problem anymore.” “But I didn’t actually move anywhere,” Emma argues. “There was no following the light.” Regina exhales. “Probably more metaphorical, giving into what the light offered.” “Which was?” “This, obviously. What we talked about, and what you thought you couldn’t ever have while you were stuck in Neverland, convinced of a whole slew of wholly negative things. So, there was no walking, but—” “—I wouldn’t have just run away!” 

Voice cracking is a sign of impending mental breakdown, Emma’s sure. As are Killian’s tightening fingers, although she’s starting to depend on those fingers just a bit because sitting hadn’t even crossed her mind before and now that might be the only reason she’s still standing.

That keeps happening. 

“Doesn’t sound like you had a choice,” Regina says, “if Pan wanted to tempt you, will-o-wisps seem like the perfect way to do it. See the light, get pulled into this future, he gets Henry, and everything he wants.” “But Henry is here. He’s—he’s a grown man, with a kid and—” “—None of that is set in stone,” Tinker Bell interrupts, magic roaring in Emma’s ears. Killian’s going to cut off the circulation to her hand. “With you out of the way, Pan’s got a straight shot at the heart of the truest believer, he can change what you would have eventually done. Make sure he gets the magic that’ll save Neverland. That’s why everything else is falling apart.” “I’m sorry, what?” “Magic,” David clarifies. “All of it acting strangely? Turns out that is because of you, kid.” Scoffing makes her lean forward awkwardly, but Killian doesn’t mention the strain it’s undoubtedly putting on his arm, and letting go of her hand is disappointing for about two seconds. Before it turns into his arm around waist. 

Regina’s expression turns calculating. 

“Again,” she says, “it’s what we talked about. Things falling apart because you got pulled off the board. Into this exceedingly tempting place.”

Widening her eyes at the unspoken judgement doesn’t do anything to alter Regina’s face, but Emma didn’t really expect it to and her eyes hurt. From not crying. She can’t possibly cry anymore. “I’ve never been to Wonderland, though. How could I fuck up its magic?” “You’ve been other places, love,” Killian murmurs, “and all of that has ripple effects. Savior saves one place, and other realms reap the benefits.” “Is Neverland in the United Realms?” “No.” “Just like that?” “Just like that,” he echoes, smile not quite reaching his eyes. “What do we do now, Your Majesty?”

Taking a deep breath, Regina lets it out almost immediately — staring at limbs and their out-of-place placement for a moment, before glancing at Tinker Bell. Who shrugs, again. Emma’s going to scream. Before she cries. Maybe then all the emotions will balance out. “We figure out a way to get Emma back to the right place, so she can save Henry and defeat Pan, then we hope that things haven’t been altered so much in the past that this version of the future crumbles entirely.” “What was that about no pressure before?” Emma huffs, David laughing under his breath and the feel of something on her hair is absolutely not Killian’s lips. “And honesty, what options do we have left? As far as time travel goes.” “Eh, we're far from exhausted on possibilities,” Regina says. “Just need to get creative.” Tinker Bell’s gasp is very loud. “Have you tried—” “—No,” Killian cuts in, sharper than anything else he’s said. “That’s not going to work.” “But you haven’t tried.” “Because it’s not an option.” “Oh, that’s very negative.” He hums, and Emma waits for the rest of the conversation. Another verbal volley, but it doesn’t come and Tinker Bell looks very disappointed. She’s got another migraine. “How long do you think we have until this future just—disintegrates?” Emma asks. 

She counts to twenty-four before anyone replies. “Maybe a couple days,” Regina replies, “a week at most.” “So—Christmas, then?” “I bet he didn’t plan that on purpose, just one of those crazy happenstances.” “Yuh huh.” “Try and sound more convincing next time, that one sucked a bit.”

Hearing the so-called queen of these supposed United Realms utter the word sucked without a hint of irony is not what Emma expects to be the straw that breaks her back, but it is and her back hurts, and all of her aches, and saving people is her gig. She’s got to figure out a way to do that. No matter what. 

She can’t do that while standing here. With three matching looks of concern, and one of absolute and total fear boring into the side of her head, and Emma’s also very good at running.

That would suggest she’s got control over her limbs, though. Stumbling down the stairs, she makes it about three-quarters of the way down before the whole thing is too challenging and her lungs appear to be disappearing, or possibly melting, and something in her spine cracks when she falls forward. 

Hair brushes Emma’s knees, shoulders shaking with the force of her sobs and the volume of her breathing and the hand that lands on hers doesn’t surprise her as much as it should. “In through your nose, out through your mouth,” Killian instructs, only for Emma to flat out fail at that too. 

Becoming a very frustrating theme. “Why are you so worried about my oxygen intake?” “It concerns me that you’re not, actually.”

Letting out a breath she definitely could have used, Emma’s head lolls. Towards his shoulder and the very solid nature of him, and he doesn’t try to roll her off. Just shifts his arm so it’s back around her waist and that does make it a bit easier to keep her lungs functioning. 

“Was it all of reality collapsing, or Regina using that particular word?”

Emma groans. “Mind reading’s kind of a violation of privacy.” “Invoking my pirate excuse.” “That’s not a thing.” “Eh,” he says, and she hears the smile. That’s...nice. “Having no regard for laws is something of a requirement for piracy.” “This is not working as well as you think it is.” “I respectfully disagree. We’re going to fix this, you know that, right?” “I can’t imagine how.” “Sheer stubbornness hardwired into your personality.” Laughing hurts her very tight and anxiety-riddled chest, but Emma can’t help herself and she’d been right about the smile. Magic flutters under her skin, a steady pulse that’s slightly different than her normal pulse because it’s also more consistent and Killian’s nose is close enough to brush her cheek. If he wanted. 

She wonders if he does. She’d like him to. 

But that’s another problem, and more danger than anything Neverland could offer, and—“Fuck Peter Pan, honestly,” Emma proclaims, Killian’s response warm on her skin because it also includes a sound drifting close to a guffaw and she supposes his mouth is as close as his nose. What with the general structure of faces, and all. 

He kisses her cheek. 

Quick — barely there, really. Over before it has a chance to register, but Emma’s certain she’s been catapulted into the stratosphere, and he blinks almost hyperactively at her. She’s right about the palm thing too. 

He turns into her hand as soon as it finds his cheek. 

“Apologies,” Killian mumbles, retreating back into formalities and behind walls Emma had been clinging to only a few days before. Now they’re just kind of annoying. “Force of habit.”

“Was it the fuck Peter Pan that got you?” “You’ve always been something of a wordsmith.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere,” Emma smiles. “Can I—can I ask you a question?” “No need to preface it, darling.” That’s something like the eighth time that’s happened. In the last two days. Second in the last hour or so. Emma’s not counting that either. “Do you remember this?” “Currently?” “Don’t be an ass,” she snarks, but his hook is around her wrists before she can even try to lift her hands. “The will-o-wisp attack. I—well, it was my turn to watch and I was kind of wallowing because of everything that had happened, and—” Telling him she wanted to kiss him then and now and possibly for the rest of time is also very appealing. And terrifying. Emma bites her tongue. Coward. 

“No,” Killian shakes his head. “I don’t.” “Is that weird?” “Decidedly.” “So, then—wait, I’ve got another question.” He lifts his eyebrows. Smirks. Has the absolute cheek to lift his thumb and brush tears away from her skin, and Emma resolutely refuses to acknowledge the shiver that goes through her at that. “What was with your huh’s, then?” “Last night, you mean.” “I said Echo Caves and you totally froze. Is that—” “Quite a lot of things happen in Neverland,” Killian finishes, “and not all of them have happened for you yet.” “Menacing.” He hums again, takes a deep breath that clearly isn’t a sign he wants to kiss her again. When he does not actually kiss her again. Fine, fine, fine, super. “Not all of it,” he says, although the words sound suspiciously like a promise and neither one of them blink when a bird flies through the open window nearby. 

“Are those birds flying in sync?” “Stop talking, you’re going to get us in trouble.” “What was that about pirate code, or whatever?” Grinning up at him and his scowl, Emma can’t help but be a little proud that she’s managed to distract the great and passably royal Captain Killian Jones during the United Realm’s annual tree lighting. Which in retrospect, does seem kind of strange since Emma can’t imagine they actually have Christmas in the Enchanted Forest. 

That’s a conversation for a different time, though. 

For now she’s willing to keep playing distraction, and it’s very fun to flirt. With Killian, specifically. She’ll consider the repercussions of that later, too. 

“As far as I’m aware,” Killian whispers, trying to keep Hope from jumping into the nearest snowbank, “your mother has instructed them to appear at certain and integral points in the ceremony. For dramatic effect.” “Kind of gaudy, isn’t it?” “A requirement of royalty, so it would seem.”

The muscles in her cheeks are starting to ache. From overuse, and that’s—another problem. Being here a tease. That one strand of hair that always manages to fall towards Killian’s right eye is the worst. 

“How long have you been holding onto that particular opinion?” They haven't turned the tree on yet, so whatever light reflects in his eyes is more theoretical than anything. Regina must have practiced this speech at some point. No way this is all improvised, not with the dramatic pauses and introductions and— “Oh shit,” Emma mutters, the ends of Killian’s ears going red because Regina is introducing them and Hope is nothing more than four uncoordinated limbs and Henry snickers very loudly.

Ella elbows him in the side. 

Emma likes her daughter-in-law. She hasn’t allowed herself to think about that title, or the granddaughter it comes with, but she’s getting very good at putting thoughts in boxes and only partially acknowledging what they mean and Killian's hand finds her again. 

Magic rushes from the top of her head to the very bottom of her feet, standing a bit straighter in another pair of boots, and Killian’s whole body moves towards her. So as to make it easier when he openly gapes at her. 

That must happen a lot too, though. No one bats an eyelash. “If you’re all done,” Regina drawls, but Henry isn’t and Ella can’t contain her laugh either. Mary Margaret looks overjoyed. Even as her birds break formation. 

Emma nods. “All good.” “Gods, the whole lot of you are annoying. You know—” Waving one hand, candles burst into flame without a word, multi-colored lights appearing on every branch, and it takes Emma a moment to realize that everyone in the crowd is holding an ornament. 

“What are they for?” she asks Killian, not bothering to lower her face over the cheers. People are cheering for the tree. “They’re wishes, Mama,” Hope cries. “From everyone!”

He nods when the four-year-old doesn’t explain anymore — already rushing towards Mary Margaret and her ornament. “That’s why people come from all over. Aside from the festive nature, and the talented birds, it’s an old superstition. Place an ornament where the candle was, and you’ll get your wish.” “What happens to the candle?” “Supposed to bring it home, and light that space with the feeling of the solstice.”

In any other situation, exhaling as forcefully as she does would be embarrassing. As it is, Emma figures she’s got a thousand excuses and the hand in hers gives no indication of letting go any time soon. So, seems like a wash. “Gods, that’s nice.” “Aye, it is.”

Hope puts an ornament on the tree. 

So does Henry. 

And Lucy. The list goes on and on, but all Emma can do is stand at the end of Granny’s counters and eat her weight in Snickerdoodles. 

She's the worst, frankly. 

Snow starts to fall just as Emma’s wavering between that happy medium of pleasantly buzzed and legitimately drunk, and she’s got to ask someone who doles out the liquor licenses in this realm because it appears Granny’s hand has grown a bit heavy over the years. 

Lucy scampers towards the far window as soon as she notices the storm, already talking a mile a minute and detailing plans with Hope and Neal — and this happy medium makes it impossible for Emma to be too frustrated by that, but she also hasn’t actually asked what happened to Neal or why he doesn’t appear in Storybrooke, so it seems it’s more difficult to rid herself of the self-imposed asshole moniker than she’d like. 

And the bell over the door rattles like it’s the goddamn town crier, another familiar face stepping through the frame. With red highlights in her hair. “Are we doing this, then?” Ruby asks, flanked by a woman Emma doesn’t recognize and another redhead who is obviously not Ariel and it’s strange to see Mulan out of armor. 

“Cap?” Ruby presses, when no one responds quickly enough, “this is happening, right?” Glancing at a wary Henry and back towards a clearly confused Emma, Killian grits his teeth. While she does her best to come to terms with nicknames, and another tradition and Hope tries very hard to climb up Emma’s side. 

So as to yell in her ear easier. 

“It’s snowing, Mama. We’ve got to play!” Emma blinks. “In the snow.” “It’s a...thing,” Killian explains. “Gets almost—” “—Bloodthirsty,” Mary Margaret says, which is not the most shocking thing that’s happened so far, but Emma’s buzz is starting to ebb slightly and someone’s knocking on the door. Another redhead, with her hair in braids and what looks like suspiciously like a crown on her head and David lets out a joyful noise when he notices the guy behind her. 

Mary Margaret tugs at the edge of Emma’s sleeve. She might be nearly drunk too, actually. If her slight wobble is any indication. “In the past,” she starts, “there’s been some notably magical snowstorms here. It was quite an event when Elsa first arrived, but then well—you helped save her, and her sister.” The redhead waves, as if she knows she’s being talked about and Emma can’t fathom how she makes that connection, but she’s getting better at puzzles. “And now,” Mary Margaret continues, “it’s become something of a ritual.”

Ruby gags. “Oh Gods, don’t say it like that. Sounds ruthless.” “Isn’t it, though?” Henry challenges. “The gist is, that Elsa shows up after the tree lighting with her snow powers and we have a snowball fight.” She’s too drunk for this. Definitely well past buzzed at this point. “A snowball fight,” Emma repeats, half a dozen nodding heads replying with equally large smiles and the almost audible sense of anticipation hovering around them. 

Hope widens her eyes. It’s a very good trick. “She practices that,” Killian mutters, more mind reading that Emma doesn’t bother to point out because the redhead is shouting "come on, let’s go'' and that sounds like a command. And bloodthirsty is a very appropriate adjective. 

Teams are quickly formed, alliances announced and the guy Emma realizes is named Kristoff claims “honor must be defended” enough times that it appears to be a catchphrase. Laughter rings out around them, dancing on the magically-induced snowflakes and off the lights, and there aren’t as many candles on the tree anymore, but some flames continue to flicker, casting shadows across faces and snowballs. 

As they fly past Emma’s ears. 

“Your aim could use some work,” Killian says, breathing heavier as he ducks behind a snow drift they’re using as a blockade. Emma sneers. “Where’d the kid go?” “Ours?” She nods. Tries not to die. Only marginally succeeds. Killian doesn’t appear to notice. Force of habit is a very strong rationalization, it seems. “She’s allied herself with her much more impressive brother, who—” Lifting out of his crouch, Killian cups a hand to his mouth, like that will help the volume of his ensuing insult. “—Has clearly been practicing snowball creation in the Wish Realm and only knows how to win by cheating!” “I learned it from you,” Henry calls back. 

David’s laugh is loud enough to disrupt a whole flock of birds. Perched on the branches above his and Mary Margaret’s head. 

Goosebumps make a glorious return to Emma’s arm — and quite possibly her soul, which only seems like an exaggeration until she notices the spots of color on Killian’s cheeks and the bits of snow clinging to his hair. His eyes get bluer when she brushes the moisture away. Have to, if only to explain Emma’s fluttering magic and fledgling pulse and a snowball slams into her left shoulder blade. “Gotta hide better,” Anna calls, the blonde behind her, who is definitely Elsa, shaking with the force of her laughter. Everyone keeps laughing. Everyone is so happy. It’s—

A goddamn Christmas Utopia. 

“You did offer yourself up a bit,” Killian reasons, Emma gasping at the betrayal. Pulling on the front of her now-damp jacket, he tugs her back against his side and they’re very close. Too close. Possibly not close enough. 

“And what would you suggest o ye master strategist?” “Little wordy, don’t you think?”

“I retract my compliment, then.” “Ahaha,” he chuckles, “a compliment, was it? Well that’s totally different, then. Now, if you just stay here with—” The rest of the sentence gets caught up in his grunt and groan and Emma’s not particularly disappointed to see Hope’s return to this side of the snowball fight, but she’s also fairly certain there was a me looming on the tip of Killian’s very distracting tongue and she’d like to hear that. Selfishly. “Oh, switched allegiances again, have you, little love?” “Henry can’t enchant the snowballs,” Hope says, like that’s supposed to make sense and it almost does because Emma has magic, but she’s never tried to use it on snow. At least not yet.

“I don’t—” she starts, only to cut herself off. At the overall circumference of Hope’s eyes, and the color of Killian’s and there’s something to said for sheer force of will. “Gimme a snowball, baby.”

Excitement immediately colors her daughter’s face, smile wide enough that it’s probably a record and Killian doesn’t say anything. Watches without a single shift of his chest, which means Emma is staring at his chest, but he’s also obviously not breathing, and her lungs can’t stand up to much more of this. 

An admittedly lackluster snowball gets plopped in Emma’s upturned palm, and she blinks away the cold like this is old hat. Or something less lame sounding. Snow packs together like—well, magic, she supposes, a perfect sphere that isn’t quite iced over, but won’t fall apart when one of them throws it and obviously Hope’s got to throw it. 

“Ok,” she says, nodding encouragingly. “Who did you want to take down?” Killian’s lips disappear. Behind his teeth. To stop himself from grinning like a maniac, or so Emma very quickly convinces herself. 

“Uncle Kris,” Hope announces, and this family’s apparently only grown in the last decade or so. Maybe Emma should be more concerned about her heart. And its ability to burst. 

“We can do that. Just—toss it up, and…”

She’s got no idea, really. Just generic hope, and a surplus of feeling, but Emma’s always been told that magic is emotion and she’s not sure she’s ever been more emotional, which is a scathing commentary of her life, but this is also her life and— Killian scoops Hope up, an impressive act of balance and dodging incoming snowballs, and Emma will use that emotion as a reasonable excuse for what she does next. Reaching forward, her fingers curl around the brace at the end of his arm, not able to actually touch skin because he’s wearing a leather jacket, and that’s only sort of messing with her mind. But the motivation is the same, and she’s got all those suspicions and thoughts and—

The most powerful magic in the world. 

“Throw it, love,” Killian directs, Hope’s arm pulling behind her like she’s a professional baseball player, and Emma squeezes her eyes shut. Warmth curls at the base of her spine, inching up her vertebrae until it takes root at the base of her skull, spreading out through her brain and the rest of her limbs and he definitely kisses her hair again. 

She’d been counting on that, just a bit. 

Muscles loosen under her skin, no sense of tension or that ever-present anxiety Emma’s always just assumed was part of her genetic makeup. Shouts echo around her, in addition to the snow, but she can’t quite hear any of it over the explosion of magic between her ears, and Hope’s cry of success will probably be branded on Emma for the rest of her life. 

She hopes so, at least. 

Opening her eyes to find Kristoff sputtering, and Anna as impressed as she is indignant, Emma only barely has a chance to catch her breath before there’s a kid flying into her arms. It’s harder to hold her when she doesn’t let go of Killian. And Killian doesn’t pull away. 

He watches both of them. Traces over Emma’s face, the same way she had in the hallway, and something happens. Something important. Passing between them, and cementing itself in her gut and her soul and his lips twitch. At her magic, probably. “Thank you,” Killian mouths, Emma nodding against Hope’s hair. She kisses it. Out of habit, or whatever.

Strands of hair are damp against Emma's temple by the time they traipse back to the house, Hope asleep on Killian’s shoulder. Enchanted snowflakes linger on the back of her jacket, hovering on her eyelashes for maximum effect and peak cute, which didn’t need any help if Emma’s being honest and she might be willing to err on the side of that particular feeling right now. So as to keep the feeling, all year long and maybe even indefinitely. 

Or whatever they said about Ebenezer Scrooge. 

After he learned to love Christmas. And other humans. 

Emma’s still not thinking too hard about that particular word, though. So, maybe complete honesty’s something of a stretch, but the kid is undeniably adorable and it’s admittedly difficult to think straight when Killian is—

Killian. In italicized and underlined lettering, meeting Emma snark for snark, and snowball for snowball, and she really wants to know his Monopoly cheating strategy, but that’s a problem for an entirely different list because that list has impossible words and improbable feelings and he’s staring at her.

Where she’s leaning against their front door. 

Using possessive and collective pronouns isn’t helping her cause. 

“Are you alright?” he asks softly. For the benefit of the sleeping kid, Emma figures. Not the state of her pulse, or the magic he could feel, and the cyclical nature of time is just toying with her at this point. 

She nods. “Better than, somehow.” “Oh, that’s a little negative, Swan.” “Kind of my schtick, isn’t it.” “Not always,” Killian says, another pair of words that shouldn’t sound like a promise and clearly do not care. Emma feels her smile. Like, possibly in the very core of her being. At least between her ribs, where the growing sense of belonging has decided to linger, this feeling of home and possibility and staying here is not a possibility. Tinker Bell will figure something out. 

Emma will — that’s how Savior’ing works, after all. 

“You know,” Killian adds, Hope humming into his neck and there’s quite a lot of neck. Emma might be staring at his neck. “At some point we concoct this very impressive buttered rum recipe, that’s notoriously good at warding off chills.” Digging her teeth into her lips does not do anything to disperse the butterflies in Emma’s stomach, but she’s also not all that interested in them leaving. “Concerned about my breathing and my overall body temperature?” God, she’s an idiot. 

Flirting isn't quite second nature, though — and Emma’s even less accustomed to flirting as a two-way street, but this feels as easy as it has and will and there’s those tense-based issues all over again. Killian grins. Slow, and measured and inching almost close to lecherous, sparking a handful of other other ideas that—

Immediately disappears when the four-year-old wakes up. 

Brushed teeth take precedence, as do picking out pajamas and Hope is in possession of more pajama sets than Emma knew could exist in one set of drawers. Then there’s a bedding routine, lifting comforters and crawling under sheets and Emma doesn’t know the story requested of her. 

She’s got no idea what happens after Prince Charles spun around with his sword. 

It’s got to be impressive, though. 

“Oh, Hope I—” she exhales, fear creeping back into the forefront of her mind. Until fingers find they’re way back into hers, and they’re just as warm as they always are and it takes Killian less than three minutes to promise a different story on another night. 

No tears are shed, so that’s got to be a victory and Hope’s eyes are already fluttering closed when Killian flicks off the light. Lingering in the hallway, Emma’s not sure what she’s supposed to do or where she’s supposed to go, but there’s a hook pressed into the small of her back and buttered rum turns out to have a ridiculous amount of cinnamon in it. “Shit,” Emma mutters into her glass, and Killian looks far too satisfied. “This is really good.” “Took some trial and error, but we got there eventually. Or get there for you, I suppose.” Sipping instead of responding is another cowardly move, one Emma won’t ever admit to and it doesn’t matter because he can read her mind. At least her face. Open book, and all that. 

“I’m sorry.” Killian blinks. “For what, exactly?” “God, throw a dart. Everything I—showing up in your life and making the right Emma disappear, maybe, and that’s got to be fucking with you, and—” “—You’re not the wrong Emma,” he interrupts, with enough force to pull her up short. Buttered rum drips on her chin. So, she’s a picture of romance and flirting potential. “Just a little early, that’s all.” “Not what you said when I got here.” “Aye, well that was the bastard version of me. He’s a—” “—Bastard?” “Absolutely,” Killian nods, “and maybe a little unsure of himself when it comes to you.”

It’s her turn to blink. More than once, only a little concerned the scene in front of her will change, but it doesn’t and it won’t and there’s got to be a limit on time travel. Emma’s reached her quota by now, she hopes. “Because I’m a mess now? I mean, this version of me. Not the wife one.” “You’re worried about Henry. And I understand that, did then as well. I just—you want to know why the Echo Caves gave me pause? Because if you got tugged right after that, then all you’re sure of is that I think I could move on from Milah, but nothing else has happened for you yet. No promises or—” Swallowing, he sets his glass down and there wasn’t much room between them, but there’s even less now and Emma’s got nowhere to put her hands. Except on his thigh. Where it bumps hers. “Leaving behind that bastard who wouldn’t give you the magic bean was always something of a challenge, but you made me want to. Made it easier to do just that. Because eventually you do trust me, and you believe in me, and—”

He exhales. Licks his lips. Emma can’t move. “The thought of losing that terrified me,” Killian finishes. 

They’ve stopped dancing. Are standing stock-still in the middle of the floor, while other people twirl around and wait for them to get their rhythm back. And Killian doesn’t blink, which is equally frustrating and overwhelming and a much more positive adjective that Emma can’t be bothered with because she’s too busy saying, “I...like you?” “Was that a question?” “Maybe,” she admits, “it’s not really my forte, and I told Neal a bunch of shit in the Echo Caves too, so—is...did my parents name their kid after him?” “Yuh huh.” “Don’t sound particularly pleased.” “We’ll get to that,” Killian says, “Rehash the liking stuff, please.” Maybe laughing at inappropriate times is actually his greatest talent. Emma’s head drops, bumping Killian’s shoulder, but then there’s an arm back around her waist and there’s so much of him, and that’s always been the problem. Opposite of a problem, really. 

“You just—” Emma mutters. “Came back, for us and me and I...that kind of terrifies me too, but you always make sure if I'm ok, and that’s—not a ton of people do that.” “Becomes something of a habit.” “I’m going to ask you a question.” “Still don’t need to preface it.” “Are you Prince Charles in the story?”

Surprise is a good look on him. All of them are, but Emma’s already crossed one emotional threshold and like wasn’t really the word she was thinking about before. “Aye,” Killian says, soft enough that it’s difficult to hear. 

“Does that make me the princess?” “In almost every story I tell.”

The warmth moves to her cheeks, and the same skin Killian’s fingers graze, coming dangerously close to the edge of her mouth and barely parted lips. “So, uh,” Emma stammers, “not our first time travel adventure?” “Gets confusing when you haven’t done that other part yet.” “Time travel might be overrated, honestly. But we get back, right? That’s—I mean, you’re here.”

Nodding, his nose replaces his fingers and it’s oddly endearing. “If you remember this in the past, I refuse to be held accountable, alright?”

“Seems fair,” Emma laughs, and she thinks she hears him swallow before he responds. “You give up your magic, for me—which is something else I never entirely pay you back for, but then we get pulled into the portal, adventures ensue, including that very impressive spin move, and then your magic comes back.” “How?” “With that wand Regina used before, that’s why she thought it would work.” “You’re skipping over things,” she accuses, and flirting might not be the only two-way street. He’s getting easier to read. “Was that was it you? Helping with my magic?” Shrugging isn’t easy when they’re so tangled together, but Killian’s ears are as red as Ariel’s hair and Ruby’s highlights and—“The only reason I magic’ed that snowball was because I was holding onto you. Control’s not something I’ve got much of right now.” “You would have been able to figure it out.” “Not with a kid waiting, and all those people and—” Problems be damned. Lists be damned. Time itself, be goddamned. “Paying me back is a stupid thing to think.”

“Swan.” Shaking her head, Emma moves before she can reconsider how incredibly dumb this is and possibly even more dangerous, but he keeps staring at her and it’s so easy and normal, and if she were someone who breathed with any sort of regularity, that wold be an appropriate analogy. Killian shifts too, so that helps. 

And she definitely mumbles kiss me like some harlequin romance heroine, but he doesn’t laugh and he doesn’t object and the fingers that find her hair help ground her. To this plane of reality. Nice exists for about half a second, before it rather quickly evolves into need and desire and there are hands everywhere. Emma’s and Killian’s — tracing each other like this is the first time all over again, and her back arches once she clamors into his lap. 

Rocking down at the same time he rocks up draws out several sounds Emma’s never heard before, and would not mind hearing on loop. Fingers search out skin, pushing into the tuft of hair at the nape of his neck, and she can’t tilt her head enough. To get the right angle, or more of his tongue and his tongue’s already swiping at her lips. 

He groans again. When she opens her mouth, lets him trace as much as he’d like, and Emma would like even more, but she’s always been kind of greedy when it comes to him and really oxygen is vastly overrated. 

She can’t keep her eyes open. 

Can’t imagine how anything gets better than this, or them and there’s that pronoun again. 

Both of their shoulders heave when they finally have to pull apart, more black than blue in Killian’s eyes and— “We’re really good at that,” she mutters, working a laugh out of him. That he presses against her neck. And under her chin. Drags across her jaw, and up towards her temple, kissing whatever he can reach and everywhere he lands and it takes a power she did not know she possessed for Emma to keep herself from demanding he take his clothes off as well. 

She opts for the next best thing. “Thoughts on sleeping in your own bed?” 

The eyebrows, honestly. Flying up, and reacting quicker than he can respond and Killian kisses her. Soft and easy, and as normal as anything. “Vast,” he says, mostly into her mouth, “and it’s difficult to fall asleep without you, so it’d be nice to actually do that.” “Yeah, ok. That works.”

[kl4us4]

FISTS OF FURY (Geralt of Rivia x Reader)

Summary: Travelling with Geralt has always been... interesting. While on the search for Ciri, you both find yourselves in Velen, where Geralt is faced by three overzealous, strong armed fighters.

A/N: ok so I love the Witcher series & I also am super into the game so this is a mix of both but based on a side quest in Witcher 3. this is kinda just me dabbling into a show i love 

“He’d beat all you fools with his eyes closed!” Jaskier shouts, looking around at the group of boys and men. When Geralt gives the bard a glare, you hold back a laugh. The things Jaskier gets the group into is insane. The boy has such a big mouth.

“Is that so?” One of the fighters scoffs, his eyes raking Geralt’s muscles, “The thing about strong men is that they have muscles in the wrong places!”

“Yeah!” Another agrees, sitting on top of the gate to the small ring where the fighting takes place, “I bet he’s dumb as a stone!”

“Hm,” is all Geralt responds with, seemingly thinking to himself: if only they knew. You watch Geralt eye the men, no doubt forming a plan in his mind.

Moving from his position leaning against a wooden pole, Jonah steps in front of the Witcher. And his eyes take in the older mans rough appearance. The strangers eyes then land on you, doing the same to your body before he flicks his eyes back to the tall Witcher standing closely beside you. 

“What? Jonah tilts his head, his blue eyes flicking to you, “You afraid you’ll lose your lady?”

Jaskier lets out a loud, humourless laugh. You can’t help but smile at the mans bravery. You watch Geralt, who crosses his arms and shifts on his feet though he gives a smile of his own. He has no doubts about you. “I’m afraid for your dignity,” the Witcher admires, watching Jonah as he gives you a look, “A man who speaks the most often has very little to say.”

“What d’ya think?” Jonah inquires, ignoring Geralt’s comment and wrapping an arm around your shoulder, “Think your big boy is man enough?”

You let out a low chuckle as you look at the young man, indulging his fantasies, “And... What if he isn’t?” 

Jaskiers eyes grow wide, he looks between you and Geralt; who keeps on smiling. Jonah lets out a hum of his own, leaning closer into you. Geralt knows you’re doing it to rile him up, especially with the way you’re watching him as this stranger speaks to you like you belong to him. “Then we have some fun of our own. And you forget about the white haired freak.”

“How much do you want to bet?” Geralt now clenches his jaw, his voice deep. He can hear everything Jonah says to you, though it’s in a low whisper. And he can hear the disgusting young man’s heart speed up when his eyes flutter to your chest. If Geralt were morally corrupt, he would’ve beat the daylights out of Jonah. He’d rather get paid for it.

“145 crowns.” A man announces, placing his hands on Jonah’s shoulders and bringing him away from you. 

“Hm,” Geralt keeps his eyes on Jonah, “For 190 I’ll take out all three of your fighters, one after the other.”

Shouts and whispers erupt around the ring. Looking at Geralt, you raise an eyebrow. 190 crowns isn’t as much as the base rate for his Witcher services. But winning it from these men seems like it’d be even more satisfying. “Deal!” And just like that, Geralt is taking both swords from his back, handing them to Jaskier who’s barely able to set them down next to Roach.

Seeing Jonah and the old man sharing a few words, Jaskier doesn’t even try to reach Geralt’s shoulders, so instead he just exclaims, “You got this, Geralt. You’re the White Wolf, yeah? You’re infamous! You got this, White Wolf, come on.”

To which Geralt just shoots the shorter boy a look. After the armour is removed, Geralt lifts his shirt off of his body, tossing it to the ground beside his weapons. You’re admiring his body, looking at the scars littering his body. And he notices, watching you closely as he takes a few steps towards you, close. “Good luck kiss?” The corners of his lips turn up in a small smirk as he places his hands on your hips. His large hands pull you against his exposed chest, and you hate that he can hear your heart pick up along with your breath hitching.

“When have you ever needed luck?” You question him, your hands resting against his warm lower stomach. Gazing at his golden eyes, you give him a gentle smile.

Geralt admires you from up close, your kind smile, lovely lips, your beautiful eyes, “I don’t know... Jonah seems like a real catch,” he jokes sarcastically, “What if he steals you away from me?”

“Well,” you laugh lightly, placing a hand upon his rough cheek, “you’re just going to have to win the fight.” Leaning close to him, you close your eyes as you press a gentle kiss to his lips.

When you pull back, Geralt lets out a deep hum before he turns to the circle of watchers. Jonah stands in the middle, watching with an angry gaze, shirtless and relatively skinny except for the muscles on his forearms.

You stand beside Jaskier, who watches on casually. “Nervous?” You ask him.

He scoffs, playing along, “Yeah, what if Geralt meets his demise at the hands of a the fearsome Jonah?”

You chuckle, shaking your head admirably, “You better write a bloody good song after we take home the reward.”

“Trust me, I’m already up to the second verse!” Jaskier smiles, reciting, “Jonah lost the fight and we stood hip to hip / our beloved Witcher won the Velen championship!”

“Begin!” A man shouts, stepping from the circle and joining the small crowd that’s formed to watch Geralt and Jonah.

You exhale, watching Geralt’s clenched fists raised in front of his face. He’s waiting for Jonah to strike first. You know Geralt, you know his tactics. He’ll use Jonah’s first attack against him.

The smaller boy swings strong, aiming for Geralt’s throat, but the Witcher grabs his arm, pushing him down to the mud before upper-cutting his jaw. Standing, Geralt maintains his boxing stance as Jonah grunts in pain, still on the ground.

“What was that? 10 seconds?” Jaskier laughs, slapping his knee.

“Should’ve asked for more crowns.” You note, shaking your head in dismay. This is all too easy.

“Keep talking and we’ll have your tongue, girl!” One of the men shout, giving you a disgusting scowl as he hands golden coins over to the old match-maker, who then gives you a pile of money.

“What’s this?” You ask.

“People betted against your dear freak.” He answers with a glare before bending down to see if Jonah’s alright.

“Looks like that went well!” You raise your eyebrows sarcastically, hands on your hips as you smile.

Geralt leans against Roach, looking off as two men lift Jonah up. That was only the first contestant. The worst he has is bruises to his jaw and maybe a scrap on his knee where he hit the dirt. “We’ll ask for more coin next time.” Geralt tells you.

“That’s what I was saying,” you exclaim, turning to smile at Geralt, “This is too easy for you!”

“Next contestant,” the man shouts in disdain, “Stan Fishgulper!”

A look crosses your face. Leaning to Jaskier, you whisper, “Stan who?” You scoff, bursting into a small laughing fit with your friend.

“They’re going to cut your tongue out!” Jaskier whispers, in the midst of his own laugh as Geralt walks to the circle once again, “I can’t add that into a ballad!”

“Rather be mute than gulp fish,” you whisper to him, crossing your arms as another laugh wracks through your body.

Jaskier shoves your shoulder, shaking his head as he laughs along. In the ring, it’s all serious. Geralt eyes the middle aged man, sees the wrinkles along his face and the scars on his fingers as he balls his fists. Must be a fisher judging by the thin scars along them. Must’ve been one his whole life. His posture is hunched, possibly from staring at the water. He may have some strength in his arms then, though Geralt doubts he’ll strike first. He doesn’t seem the type to. Not overly confident.

Geralt lands a punch on Stans side, almost feeling sorry when the man jumps back and grunts in pain. But when Stan side steps and attempts to land a kick between Geralt’s legs, the monster-hunter no longer feels pity. He punches him in the cheek.

Grabbing the stunned man by his shoulders, Geralt uses all his force to knee him in the crotch. “I hope you’ve had your share of children already, my friend.” Geralt muses, pulling his hands from the man's shoulder and stepping back.

“Smithy!” The matchmaker calls, gesturing for another man to approach. Your smile fades when you see the size of this man. The tiniest bit shorter than Geralt but twice the size anyways. He walks slow, his feet trudging his weight to the middle of the circle beside Geralt.

Though, the Witcher doesn’t look afraid. He takes down fiends and basilisks for Christ’s sake. This, in front of him, is but a man. But you’re not sure. The man in front of him, Smithy, looks strong as hell. “Oh, fuck,” Jaskier breathes, “Now I feel bad for laughing....”

“You’ve got this, Wolf,” you call out, leaning against the sheep pens. Glancing at you, Geralt shoots a wink your way before turning his focus on Smithy.

Immediately, it’s horrid. You cringe, seeing Smithy grab Geralt by his shoulders and swing him across the pen, rolling through the mud. Geralt lands on his back, staring up into the sky with wide and shocked eyes. What the hell just happened? It was so quick, the Witcher barely got time to understand before Smithy pulled him up by his arm.

You and Jaskier, silent from the sides, eyes wide, barely even breathing at the sight in front of you. It can’t be. The Witcher can’t lose this battle. There’s no way. Geralt kicks Smithy in the stomach, pushing him back before raising his arms in defence of his face. The white haired mans footwork is quick, something that cannot be said for Smithy - whos main source of force is his strength.

Slinking around the tall man, Geralt lands a boot in the back of Smithys leg, sending the man falling to his knees slowly but surely. Jaskier gasps, seeing the fight change so drastically so quickly. He grabs your hand, excitement coursing through him. You grip his back, mouth hanging wide open as Geralt takes a few steps back, kicking Smithy in the throat. You grimace, and so does the crowd, as Smithy is winded - much like Geralt a few minutes prior.

Running up to the kneeled man from behind, Geralt lands a foot right on his back, sending the man falling forward. He coughs and sputters on the floor, struggling to stand. The bookie, reluctantly, calls it. And just like that, you and Jaskier are cheering loudly for your friend. “White wolf!” You shout, jumping up and down with Jaskier who whistles at Geralt.

The bookie raises Geralt's hand and the Witcher’s chest rises and falls steadily. His golden eyes come to rest on you as he is announced Champion and given his sum, and Geralt can’t help but grin. You and Jaskier cheer and clap as he makes his way toward you, tossing the coin to the bard. “Done. What now?” Geralt smirks cockily, making you and Jaskier laugh.

“First Velen,” Jaskier announces, his focus on the bag of coin - also filled with the numerous bets against Geralt - “Next: Skellige. Then the next country, then the next, until we rule all.”

“Good plan, Jaskier,” you nod at him before turning back to Geralt who is now dressing, “I think we can do it before the Wild Hunt catches us.”

Geralt chuckles deeply, giving you a smile before placing his swords back in their sheaths, “Funny. Right now, all I need is a shower.”

[trashy-slashy]

I’m very rusty and this is very trash ok

(What even is pacing lmao)

‘Are you going to kill me?’

Thomas Hewitt x FemaleReader

Stupid unreliable machines. After your car spluttered to a halt in the middle of the arid Texan wasteland, you’d had to wander a good hour to find any sort of civilisation. Sweat drenched your back and your throat burned. The lone building you stumbled upon had turned out to be a butcher’s, which seemed particularly bizarre on the side of a road. The shops occupant explained that there was a slaughterhouse nearby and some of your qualms settled. You acquired a bottle of water and waited as the clerk dialled a local mechanic

“What brings you here then, Missy?” The phone clacked back into its holder, the older woman turning to peer over her glasses at you. Despite the similarity in size, you felt incredibly small under her gaze.

“Visiting family” you lied instinctively, garnering an upwards head tilt from behind the counter. Something didn’t sit right about this place still; you were fairly sure she knew about your unease too. Flies buzzed around the butcher’s shop, your fingers finding purchase on a set of keys in your pocket. The awkward fiddling released some of your nervous energy.

You sat silent under the womans scrutiny for what felt like hours before the telltale sound of an engine pulled up to the shop.

“What do we have here then?” Your eyes widened as a man in a sheriff’s uniform strode through the door, carrying rope and a linen sack in one hand, the gleaming barrel of a shotgun under his other arm. His eyes glinted maliciously as his gaze fell on you.

* * *

Deeming it in your best interest, you complied as the man bound and gagged you, before unceremoniously bundling you into his backseat. Oddly enough, you didn’t feel much; shock you assumed.

“Mama says you want to stay for dinner!” He chuckled, a shiver running through your spine. The car jolted and you jerked with it, head bashing against the inside of car door. The sheriff heard your muffled grunt and giggled. “Sorry ‘bout that, these darn armadillos won’t learn...” Between the pain in your temple and the suffocating bag bound to your head you began to feel a little woozy. “Seeing as you’ve been so good, I’ll let that off you when we stop. I heard my nephew can’t wait to meet you” He sniggered, turning the car sharply. You whimpered as your head collided with car again, the throbbing overwhelming your thoughts, not giving you a second to contemplate what meeting his nephew would entail.

* * *

A short while later, the car pulled to a stop. Your ears perked up as you heard the man clamber from the vehicle.

“TOMMY! I got something for ya!” He shouted, slamming the door behind him. A few baited breaths later, the door beside you opened. “Take her downstairs then boy, come on” The sheriff urged, and not long after you felt yourself being pulled effortlessly from the car. The wind left your body as your stomach impacted what you could only assume was Tommy’s shoulder. Jesus christ, how big was this guy? His shoulder easily supported the span of your waist.

“Oh, hang on, wait just a second” A few moments later the bag was pulled from your head, leaving you face to face with the Sherrif. His name badge gleamed under the burning sun. Hoyt. “You kids have fun now.” His ensuing grin was up there with one of the most disturbing things you’d ever seen. So far.

*

You watched as he shrunk into the distance, soon finding yourself inside a dingy house. You didn’t get to see much of it before passing a sliding metal door, descending down into a dank, disgusting basement. The floor was hidden under a foot of murky water, the stench of rot and mould filling the air. The walls contained the same tools one might use to butcher livestock. You shivered unvoluntarily. There was no signs of animals being kept on the farm, nevermind actually getting one down here.

I’m the livestock.

You didn’t see any way out except for the way you came in. There was no escaping the man underneath you. His legs were easily twice the length of yours and overpowering him; stupid idea. Tommy paused for a moment, his breathing uneven. You sighed dejectedly. Neither your fight or flight instincts kicked in. Accepting your fate, you did the only thing you could think of.

“Tommy?” Your voice cracked from dehydration and the bubbling mixtures of emotions boiling up inside of you. He grunted in response, shuffling towards the middle of the room. Tears welled up in the corner of your eyes. “Just... please, make it quick.”

You were upright. Wrists and ankles still bound, but sat upright. Your captor stood before you, his face shrouded in darkness. You were right about one thing though. He was huge. Easily well over 6 feet tall and heavily built, his torso covered by an apron, that once may have been white, but now tinged with grime and bloodstains. His hands were more than likely bigger than your face. There was no way this man would show mercy. You gulped as he stepped forward, his face exposed under the lamp.

A crude leather mask covered the entirity of his lower face. His hair was untamed and grimey, some parts grazing his shoulder, others sticking wildly in all directions. The skin you could see was mottled, as if he’d been caught in a fire or even acid had melted his flesh. Most people would’ve screamed at the sight of this feral beast of a man. But you saw his eyes: saw the pain and confusion hidden in them and furrowed your brow. Why?

“Are... are you going to kill me?” You asked after sitting there for a few minutes of Tommy being deathly still, his eyes locked on you. He growled angrily, turning to snatch a cleaver from a nearby table, brandishing it at you. You froze, watching his chest heave as he poked you with the tip of the knife, but not breaking skin. His gaze never left your face, his free hand coming up to grip your shoulder firmly.

“What do you want?” You paused, gauging his reaction. Tommy made a low rumbling sound in his throat. You wondered if he was mute. He still looked confused, and if it wasn’t for the fact that you were 99% this man was a serial killer and that he was inevitably going to murder you, you’d say he looked kind of adorable. The cleaver clattered to the floor as he let it go, in favour of gripping both your shoulders. He stooped to glare at you, inches from your face, his fingers squeezing just hard enough to leave bruises.

“You don’t have to kill me” It was a matter of fact statement: worth a try. Tommy released your shoulders, a pained expression on his face. He nodded solemnly, his hand surprisingly light as he touched your neck. He jumped back in terror when you giggled, hand recoiled against his body. How can one man be so menacing yet a huge baby?

“I’m ticklish” You explained, going to gesture toward him. “Look-“ Your hands were still bound. Well that’s not going to work. Tommy seemed to notice and scooted his way around the table. It seemed almost alien how gentle his fingers were as he undone your ties. Wrists freed, you instinctively rubbed the circulation back into them, giving your captor a smile. “Thank you” His head tilted curiously, watching as you outstretched your hand. He made no motion towards you, eyes flicking between your hand and face. “I’m not gonna hurt ya.” How had this happened? Ten minutes ago you thought he was going to murder you in cold-blood, yet now... He looked like an overgrown puppy. You wondered if you were the first stranger to show him kindess. The thought made you sadden a little. “Tommy?” You mimicked his head tilt, gesturing him to come closer, hoping he’d get the idea. Eventually he complied, shuffling forward until your fingers met his belly. The warmth under your hand was comforting and it just felt... right. You couldn’t place it, but something about him was warm and comforting to you. At this point it seemed more likely that you would spook him.

“I’m gonna touch you, okay?” You murmured softly, trailing your fingers up his torso slowly. He froze up under you and whined. “Sorry Tommy I-“ you began to pull away but his hand enveloped yours, pressing it back against his chest. His heart thudded rapidly under your palm.

“Why is it so dang quiet down here?” Hoyt slammed open the gate at the top of the stairs, startling both you and Tommy. He grunted and stepped backward, whilst you almost fell face first off the table, steadying your hands on the wood below you. The sheriff grumbled when he saw you, snarling at Tommy. “Can’t you do something right for once ya dumb idiot? Dinner will be ready soon!” His nephew recoiled under his words and you felt rage boil in your stomach.

“Don’t talk to him like that!” You instinctively clamped your hand over your mouth. Whilst Tommy may not be the evil killer he appeared to be, the Sheriff seemed to be far more sadistic. Though currently he looked a little stunned.

“How in the...” he shook his head, pointing at the butcher. “You ain’t keeping her son, Ma won’t allow it!” Hoyt pulled his shotgun from his shoulder to his hands. “Now finish it and come for dinner, or I will.” He sneered, pointing the barrel at you. You saw it gleam for a second before Tommy stepped between you two, the sheriff sighing dejectedly. “Fine, but you bring her to Ma and explain yourself.” You heard the telltale sound of boots on wood as he left the basement.

“You shouldn’t...” you began, but didn’t know where you were headed. Tommy turned back to you, making short work of the ties around your ankles. “Thank you” He helped you off the table, keeping a firm but gentle grip on your arm as you both climbed the stairs.

Despite the circumstances, it seemed that everything was finally looking up.