#Loaf Love was the first fic that crossed my mind

[daydadahlias]

I was going to say Love Loaf suck if you decided to reply back actually. I came prepared

and you'd be so right for that.

[myheadsgonenumb]

thanks for the tag @amethystheart2421

A stupid fact about me is that I don't name my WIPS so it's going to take me far longer than it should to search through years worth of all my "Untitled Documents" until I hit a fic I want to use.

Hand - Dark Things Are to be Loved in Secret

Sirius squeezed his hand - and inhaled sharply. If he hadn’t asked Remus to run away with him, then this wouldn’t be happening to him. Remus would not be being exposed this way. ‘I’m sorry.’ 

‘It’s not your fault.’

‘It sorta is.’ 

‘No - this is Peter’s fault. I could be either back home with Peter, not knowing what he had done and keeping my furry, little problem a secret - or I could be here … with you.’ 

There was  a tense moment, where they both suddenly seemed to become aware they were holding hands. 

‘And … would you rather be here - with me?’ 

‘Yes.’ 

They didn’t drop hands - instead, they just squeezed tighter. 

...

But the WWN was not finished with its programming yet. Peter was still talking:

‘Although I have the greatest respect for Albus Dumbledore - I worked tirelessly underneath him to help bring down You Know Who - I have to say I believe he made a grave judgement in error when he allowed Lupin to join Hogwarts, as a boy. Of course, he put all manner of protections in place - a hidden bolthole for Lupin to transform in, guarded in such a way that no one could happen across him by mistake. But Black was always capable of great charm - and had an affinity for dark creatures. And Lupin belonged to him in a way I never quite fully understood.’ 

...

Both men dropped hands at the same moment - and avoided each other’s eyes.

Smoke - The Wolf's Tail

The muggle world was full of poverty and want and people scraping by. And it seemed to have got worse every time she returned to it. Mothers were anxious, fathers were angry, children cried and teenagers hung about on street corners, glowering. No one had enough. Her mum had to count out every penny just to buy a pint of milk or loaf of bread. And if Lily wanted these cigarettes …. She was going to have to steal them. 

Her heart beat a little faster - and she glanced around herself again, checking no one was watching. Mary would just steal them. She’d just slip them in her pocket, smile at the shopkeeper and walk out. But Lily found she didn’t quite have the nerve. When it was said Gryffindors were brave and bold, she had the feeling that having the guts to shoplift was not what people had in mind. 

But she wanted the cigarettes. 

This was what she could do to show how grown up and mature she was. This was how she could make herself look sophisticated. She closed her eyes and imagined herself elegantly drawing on a cigarette, her lipstick staining the tip like a kiss … and her breathing a long stream of wispy smoke into the air - right past Bobby Darrow … and he would turn - and he would see her and …   

She didn’t want the cigarettes. She needed them. She turned them over in her hand. Her pulse was racing in her throat and at her wrist and - rather annoyingly - in her left eyelid. She could do this - just pop them in her pocket - she could do this - she could do this … she could …

Forget - Letters to No One

For it is, of course, twenty years ago today that we rode the Hogwarts Express for the first time. I remember getting in the same little boat to cross the lake with you and James - and how you kept splashing each other - and me! And making the boat rock. How I hated you both! (Although it was only four days away from the full moon, if I remember correctly. I was not at my most patient. You know how I get).    

How I had no idea then what it was the two of you would come to mean to me. My first friends - who loved and accepted me even when you found out what I was. I never thought I could have that. To this day, I am grateful that I experienced it - even if it all ended in such terrible tragedy. To have been loved is everything - and I will never forget that I was. 

This Halloween it will be ten years since it all fell apart. Since I lost everything that mattered and my life shattered around me. Ten years on, I have picked up the pieces. Of course something fragmented can never be truly whole again - and I am more lonely then perhaps I once hoped I would turn out to be. But my life is by no means unbearable - it is certainly better than my worst fears of what it could be. 

Laughed - Dark Things Are to be Loved in Secret

‘I made a mistake about Remus,’ Sirius said, through gritted teeth. He did not bother to correct her on using Remus’ name - he knew he would get nowhere. He could not shame her with her own bigotry as he had Crouch. ‘I realised that, when I stood in the ruins of my friends’ home. I knew if I left without him, he would believe Dumbledore. He would grieve alongside … this.’ He shot a disgusted look at Peter, who was still weeping. ‘I couldn’t let that happen. I needed him to know the truth.’ 

Umbridge’s smile was wide in her froggy face. ‘You were happy for Dumbledore to tell the world that you were the spy, but not this one … well, man, as you will no doubt try and claim it is.’  

‘I could bear everybody’s hatred but Remus’s.’

‘Oh how touching.’ She laughed again. ‘Why should we believe that?’

‘Because it’s true. Because I love him.’ He felt his face grow warm as he said that.

‘You “love” him. This animal. That you thought was the spy. You want us to believe you love him?’       

  ‘I do,’ his voice burst out in an angry yell - and he stared daggers at the hideous woman. ‘It hurt more than I could bear to cut him from my heart, when I thought he was working for Voldemort - and even in that house of death, it brought indescribable joy when I knew I could love him again. I went to him because I love him. He ran away with me because he loves me. And there was nothing more sinister or complicated to it than that. We are in love.’ 

Soft - It Wouldn't Be an Adventure Without You

‘I’m not leaving! Not ever!’ Remus stared at him, thunderstruck. ‘Sirius, I spent 13 years all alone because I loved you and you were in Azkaban and I never got to a point where I was ready to move on. I never moved on from you. Now I have you back - you think I’m going to leave because you’ve gone quiet? You always used to go quiet and sulk, when we were young - I’m used to it. You are a sulker, Sirius Black - you always have been. And I’m a worrier. It is what it is. But I don’t want you to feel better because I’m bored of you being miserable. It isn’t about me. I want you to feel better so that you feel better. I want you to be happy. That’s all that matters.’ 

‘What if I’m never happy?’

‘I will never stop trying to make you so.’          

‘You really think you can put up with me, like this, forever?’ 

‘Sirius, I have been putting up with you since I was eleven. You have always been infuriating and ridiculous and prone to sulking and just going off the deep end and going mental. I have always put up with you. I will always put up with you. I love putting up with you.’ 

It was just for a moment - but there was a ghost of a smile on Sirius’ face. ‘That’s probably just part of your angsting about being a werewolf - you think you don’t deserve any better than someone who is as difficult as me.’

‘It probably is. I don’t deserve nice things. I got you - and I’m a glutton for punishment, I like having you.’               

The smile came back - and stayed for slightly longer this time. Remus smiled back at him … soft and encouraging, hoping to keep the moment going.

There was a sudden rustle in the underbrush. ‘What was that?’ Sirius asked sharply, his head turning to look.

 ‘Heinz said there were creatures in the forest. Hopefully that was just an animal but … maybe we should get moving again.’ 

OK - new words: glass, ran, music, water and thought

open tag for anyone who sees this and wants to share their work 😃

[bubblyhoney]

cheeky

warnings: lAnGuAgE, suggestive reference, a buffy quote

tags: sapnap x reader

words: 1248

A/N: first fic about our beloved snappy in the books! hope you guys like. :)

-

“God, I love corporate America,” you sigh, stopping in your tracks. Sapnap nearly runs into you with the cart and makes a squeak noise, prompting you to turn.

“What does that even mean?” He grumbles, maneuvering past you and towards the produce section. You trail after him, swiping a carton of oatmeal raisin cookies on the way and dropping it into the front basket of the cart.

“It means if Publix was a person I’d suck their—,” is all you get out before he’s slapping a hand over your mouth.

“There are children.” He looks genuinely concerned and you laugh, mouthing at his hand behind your mask. It drops to the handle.

“Don’t be such a grumpy pants, baby.” You sling an arm around his wide shoulders, slumping into his side as he shuffles forward.

“I don’t want to be awake right now, much less grocery shopping.” His voice is slightly more nasally right now, attributed to his inability to remember to take his allergy medicine. “I’m only doing this for you.”

For someone who just said something cute, he looks awfully displeased.

“Such a good sport,” you coo, rubbing your head at his shoulder.

“Where’s the list?” He straightens and pats at his pockets.

“I have it!” You pull it from your back pocket and pass it to him, supplying a slightly... chewed pencil as well. He gives you a weird look but moves to cross off number 6: cookies. An essential.

“You wanna tag team this?” He suggests and you raise your eyebrows, wiggling them. “Jesus, Y/N,” he sighs, like being your boyfriend is the hardest job in the world. “Just go get the milk and eggs while I get the produce. Can you do that?”

You pout under your mask. “I guess,” you say, and trundle off towards the dairy aisle, Sapnap's borrowed slippers slapping on the tile.

When you return, a loaf of whole grain bread tucked under your arm and a carton of 12 grade A’s in one hand, Sapnap is decidedly happier. In fact, he’s humming the Elmo song. Weird choice, but you don’t question it as you drop the items down carefully into the cart.

“What’re you eating?” You ask, leaning in to sniff him. He tugs down his mask and pops a green grape into his mouth, pulling it back up as he chews obnoxiously loud. “Pass me one, daddy.”

He chokes, coughing once and swallowing, before tugging a grape from the package in the cart and passing it to you.

“You have to stop doing that,” he mutters, but grabs your hand in his and places it around his shoulders. You hum, chewing, and lean into his neck.

“What else is on the list?” Your voice is soft, much calmer and casual after his change in attitude. The paper emerges from his pocket and he uncrumples it, eyes scanning over once.

“Saran wrap, pink lemonade, sliced turkey, tortillas, mozzarella, lettuce—oops.” He scribbles lettuce out with the pencil. “Um, jalapeño chips, sparkling water, and frozen burritos. Of the Hot Pocket variety, specifically.” He passes the list over to you and pulls another grape to toss it into his mouth. “I think we should invest in a cheesecake too.”

“Your brain is so big.”

“Yeah? You like that?” He glances at you and pushes the cart forward with a jerk, mounting it swiftly and gliding past a bubble of teenagers who look on, equally confused and amazed at an adult riding a Publix cart. You shake your head, following slowly after.

“Okay, I’m actually having fun now.” You can see the grin in his eyes as you catch up near the chip aisle. He ducks into the aisle, snagging a bag of jalapeño Ms. Vicky’s and dropping it into the cart.

“Good,” you muse, poking his side. “And how does it feel being the hottest person at Publix at ten at night?”

He shoots you a questioning look but considers your question as he drops another bag of chips onto the lettuce.

“Feels good, actually,” he decides and swings out into the flow of traffic, nearly rolling over the foot of an elderly person. He apologizes quickly and you can just barely see his cheeks flush pink over the hem of his mask.

You two make your way through the list efficiently, sometimes not-so-efficiently taking five minutes to decide if coconut or mango sparkling water is better. Coconut tastes like the smell of the all-purpose spray cleaner at home, but you accede. A thing or two is added to the list: cheesecake, upon his request, and two bottles of aloe vera lube. (“There’s a sale, babe! Would be a crime to not stock up.”) The cashier doesn’t give a second thought to the last items as they scan it, but you two giggle like teenagers.

“Ah,” Sapnap sighs, tugging off his mask and leaning forward to push the airflow of the AC directly at his face. Cool air blasts the interior of your car and you thank every holy being in existence for modern air conditioning.

“Florida sucks ass.” You move your head slowly next to the vent, tilting like a rotisserie chicken. “I can’t believe Dream got you to stay.” Passing him a stick of gum, you shove your own piece into your mouth and slide the middle console closed.

“Me either,” he hums in agreement.

“Good your way, baby?” You ask, shifting the car into reverse and easing back. He mhm’s and you slide out of the parking spot easily. The parking lot is getting busier, however late, and you maneuver between the groups of adults shopping and teenagers loitering near the cart bays.

“Dibs on the AUX,” he announces and reaches for the cord.

“Okay,” you say as Kids by MGMT starts with a flutter of sound. “Price is a kiss on my lips.” Your car lurches to a stop at a red light and you tilt your face towards him expectantly. Sighing, he leans forward and presses a single kiss to your lips. Mm.

“That’s it?” You pout, lip jutting out. He grips your jaw in his hand, only centimeters away, and rubs at it with a thumb.

“You’re a brat, you know that?” he breathes, but kisses you once more (with feeling). You close your eyes and lean into it, tongue slipping between your lips and barely touching his.

A loud honk interrupts you and you jerk away, eyes wide and looking up at the light. It’s green, you realize, raising a hand in apology to the person behind you, and kick the car into gear.

“You haven’t done that since high school,” Sapnap grins and sits back in his seat. You move a hand to his leg, glancing at his face with a similar smile.

“Done what? Kiss you?”

“No.” He rolls his eyes. “Missed a green light while kissing me.”

“Mm,” you agree. “I remember red lights being a popular destination.” Squeezing at his thigh, you slide him a look and watch his cheeks flush. He just shakes his head, leaning on his elbow against the door with his hand on his jaw.

The car idles into a stop and the glow of the red light reflects on the hood of your car. You shift slightly in your seat, raising your eyebrows and giving him a pointed look.

“Don’t even think about it.” He turns towards the window but you catch a glimpse of a smile from underneath his fingers.

Cheeky.

-

A/N: ask or send me some stuff!! requests, rants, anything. :D i don't mind comments either ;)

[nashibirne]

Gimme Shelter - 6

Sorry, it took me a while to write the next chapter but I was kinda busy. I hope you still want to know how things are going and growing between Henry and Kat. If you like this, please reward me with a comment, reblog or like 💜

Pairing: Henry Cavill x OFC (Kat Spencer)

Words: ~3.0k

Summary: Henry has to deal with a personal crisis and he finds shelter with his old rugby mate Sam and his sister Kat. She used to be Henry’s best friend a very long time ago. Will they be able to become friends again or maybe even more? Chapter 6: A disruptive factor and The Lonely Hearts Club meets again.

You can find the previous chapters and my other fics on my masterlist!

Warnings: RPF, mention of mental health issues, lots of poetry

Unbeta'ed. English isn't my first language. Mistakes ahead and they're all mine.

Disclaimer: I don’t know the real Henry Cavill or anyone who's related to him in any way, this is pure fiction and nothing more

Credits: Pics for the moodboard from Pinterest. Face claims: Kat = Jennifer Connelly

Taglist (let me know if you want to be added or removed):

@lunedelorient @inlovewithhisblueeyes @willkatfanfromasia @hell1129-blog @mis-lil-red @agniavateira @kebabgirl67 @omgkatinka @legendarywizarddetective @summersong69 @taebfada @xxxkatxo @artandotherdelights @notabronte @littlefreya @luclittlepond @eldarwen333 @meowpurrbooks @marantha @liliumdream @enchantedbytomandhenry @greensleeves888 @witcherfan @margauxmargaux07 @radaofrivia @m07belzen @a-little-counter-esperanto @starstruckkittyangel @mary-ann84 @sillyrabbit81

So, enough of the small print...here we go:

**********

As much as Kat enjoyed her time with Henry and the feelings that blossomed between them there was this one disruptive factor called Mel.

When they were sitting on that rock the other day, almost kissing, when they were pouring their hearts out afterwards, it all felt so real, so possible, so tangible but whenever she saw Hen talk to Mel her heart sank and doubt started to nag at her hope. And he not only talked to Mel, he went to her place several times and so Kat went to London for contract negotiations with a publishing house with mixed feelings. 

She wanted to trust Henry who always laughed it off, when Kat asked him about Mel, saying they were just having a neighbourly chat, but she also wasn't willing to be heading for the rocks blindly. She wasn't able to ignore the existence of Mel and the connection between her and the man Kat had fallen for again. 

She missed Henry terribly when she was away though. Five days without him made her realize how close they had grown and how much she enjoyed being around him. Five lonely nights in a hotel bed increased her doubts and her worries, her jealousy and her insecurities. She couldn't stop her mind from creating worst case scenarios of Hen being with Mel. Of Mel seducing him, of Henry having sex with her, falling for the attractive, charming blonde who knew how to enchant a man. She imagined how he got trapped by this woman who'd never tried to hide that she was looking for a new husband, a new provider, after the last one had the audacity to die and leave her with a big, beautiful mansion but not with the amount of money Mel had hoped for. And in all these scenarios Kat was the one who was left behind with a broken heart. Again. 

When she returned to St. Ives on Saturday afternoon she found Lydia working in the garden and Sam in the kitchen, baking bread. Her brother hugged her, leaving handprints of flour on her black shirt.

"How was London?" 

Kat plopped down on a chair with a sigh. "Successful but exhausting. I can't believe that I actually liked living there. The traffic is horrible and all those people and the noise…"

"Good thing you're back in our beautiful, little sanctuary then. We've missed you. Even Darcy came looking for you every day." Sam shoved the loaf of bread he'd just moulded into the oven before he washed his hands and sat down at the table across from his younger sister.

"Really?" An amused smile played on Kat's lips. "And I thought Henry and Kal are all he cares about recently. How's Hen by the way? On the phone he said he's fine?"

"He is, I guess. No more panic attacks as far as I know. He's been in a pretty good mood all week, busy and full of energy."

Sam poured himself a glass of water and offered one to Kat too but she declined with a shake of her head.

"Where is he anyway?"

"At Mel's." 

Kat's expression changed from curious to annoyed in an instant. "Again? What's he doing there?"

"Having a coffee and a chat, I guess," Sam shrugged. "I don't know the details."

Kat rolled her eyes. "Of course not."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing."

"Then why do you say it?"

Kat looked at Sam with a frown. "Nevermind."

"No, come on. Spill it. Are you implying I know something I won't tell you?" Sam got a little cross now.

"I'm not implying anything. I just don't understand why he spends so much time at her place and I can hardly believe your old rugby mate hasn't told you." She crossed her arms and gave her brother an expectant look.

"He told me what I've just told you. What do you think they're doing? Having a secret affair?" He let out a snort, laughing just at the thought of Hen and Mel but when he saw the frown on Kat's face it dawned on him. "Wait? That's what you're thinking? That something's going on between them? You're jealous?"

"Does that sound so far-fetched? She tries to dig her nails into every man who seems to be good husband material. She tried it with you and you don't need a crystal ball to know that she's for sure trying it with Hen too. And for the record...I'm worried about him, not jealous." Kat was all worked up now and Sam could easily tell that he'd hit a sore point.

"Henry is not an idiot, Kat. From my own experience I can tell you that Mel is anything but an enigma. I could tell what she's looking for after our first and only date and a man like Hen, who has to deal with gold diggers all the time, will see right through her without problems. There's no need to worry. And no need to be jealous." He grinned at her and Kat made a face. "Did you even listen to me? I've just told you that…"

"That you're not jealous. Yeah...yackety-yack. I know you, sis. You're in love with him. Don't try to deny it." Kat sighed and surrendered with a resigned smile. "Fuck, yeah and I feel like I'm sixteen again, Sammy. Confused and clueless. What is it about him that makes me feel like that? Why does it have to be so damn complicated?"

"It's not complicated. Trust him and listen to your heart."

"It's not that easy."

"No, obviously it's not. So maybe you should just ask him about Mel and work on your trust issues."

"It's not like I haven't asked him about her before. But I guess you're right. I'm gonna try again and talk to him tonight." She gave her brother a nod.

"At the meeting of The Lonely Hearts Club?" Sam winked at her with a grin that made Kat chuckle.

"He's told you about it?"

"Yeah. He's talked about it all week. Running around with piles of books, volumes of poems as far as I could see. Copying entire pages by hand into a notebook. To be honest, I think it's the reason for his good mood."

****

Maybe, Kat thought, or maybe he just enjoys fooling around with Mel.

When Kat climbed up the rope ladder a few hours later she had managed successfully to avoid Henry up to this point. She had spent the rest of the day in her room, brooding over Sam's words, about Henry and Mel for the umpteenth time and about the club meeting of course. She was close to chickening out but she decided to get her shit together and to enjoy the time with Henry on their little stroll down memory lane. And maybe, just maybe, she would even find the courage to ask him about Mel.

"Kat!" Henry flashed her one of those billion dollar smiles when she entered the tree house. "There you are." He hugged her and gave her a look full of relief. "I haven't seen you all afternoon. I was a little worried you'd stand me up." 

"Neighbourly duties?" Kat asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

She gave him a smile and shrugged. "Well, you were not around when I came back…"

"Yeah...I was busy." He grinned sheepishly, scratching the back of his head. 

"Huh?"

"Sam said you went to visit Mel."

"Ah, yes. Yes, I did. You know we have a little chat every once in a while. She's...nice."

"How lovely."

"The room looks great, Hen." 

The awkward silence that fell over the room made them both uncomfortable. The unexpected tension left Henry in a state of insecurity. He'd hoped for an easy time with Kat, some intimate moments to share but the start of the night wasn't very promising. He cleared his throat before giving Kat a goofy smile.

"Shall we begin? I've prepared a little something. A few poems and...yeah." He shrugged helplessly and to his big relief Kat nodded with a smile. "Of course."

It was only then that Kat realized that Henry had decorated the treehouse with loving care. Blankets and cushions on the floor and candles in the corner of the room created a very warm and cozy atmosphere and a huge pile of books showed her that Henry was very well prepared for the first meeting of the Lonely Hearts Club since 1999. 

"Thanks, kitty. Let's sit." He plopped down beside the books, his long legs stretched out and Kat sat down cross-legged next to him, placing a little bluetooth speaker on the floor. "Prepare for some 90s flashback. I picked all the cheesy love songs we listened to non-stop." She started the playlist and soft music filled the air. Henry smiled at her and took a deep breath before he started to speak solemnly in his best statesman's voice.

The way he looked at her took her breath away for a moment, his gaze intense and pleading, he seemed so vulnerable it made her heart miss a beat. She wanted to kiss the insecurity and sadness that crossed his handsome face away but her own doubts made her fight the need to be close to him. Instead she took the notebook he handed her over and opened it. She stared at the name of the poem that was written down in Henry's neat handwriting on the first page. 

"I hereby declare the meeting of The Lonely Hearts Club open. Present are the founding members Katherine Elisabeth Spencer and Henry William Cavill."

Kat couldn't help but chuckle. He was such a dork.

"Would you do me the honor of reciting the first poem, dear kitty?" 

She knew it all too well and yet she'd almost forgotten it existed. Forgotten or repressed, it didn't really matter, she still knew it by heart, since it was the very poem she had read countless times after Henry had broken her heart. The fact that he knew it too, that he'd chosen these verse to be read out loud made her wonder if it was as familiar to him as it was to her. She cleared her throat, closed the book and her eyes and started to recite.

"When we two parted by George Gordon Byron."

She paused and took another deep breath.

"When we two parted

In silence and tears,

Half broken-hearted

To sever for years,

Pale grew thy cheek and cold

Colder thy kiss;

Truly that hour foretold

Sorrow to this."

Kat flinched slightly when she felt Henry's warm hand in hers. She looked at him and she wasn't surprised when he continued, his voice warm and soothing like thick, golden honey.

"The dew of the morning

Sunk chill on my brow—

It felt like the warning

Of what I feel now.

Thy vows are all broken,

And light is thy fame:

I hear thy name spoken,

And share in its shame."

The game was the same it used to be back in the days at Stowe. They took turns to read the stanza. The only difference was that they were holding hands now. Kat spoke the next words with a steady voice although on the inside she was trembling.

"They name thee before me,

A knell to mine ear;

A shudder comes o'er me—

Why wert thou so dear?

They know not I knew thee,

Who knew thee too well:

Long, long shall I rue thee,

Too deeply to tell."

She smiled at Henry, sensing that he needed her reinsurance for the last paragraph. He returned the smile and went on. 

"In secret we met—

In silence I grieve,

That thy heart could forget,

Thy spirit deceive.

If I should meet thee

After long years,

How should I greet thee?

With silence and tears."

They sat in silence for several minutes, comfortable silence this time, the quiet connecting them in a way words never could.

"I've got another one you might like." Henry said softly after a while. He reluctantly let go of her hand, took the notebook and searched through the pages. "Here it is."

"Bring it on." Kat smiled at him, hardly able to hide the loving feelings that spread inside her chest and her belly. Henry nodded and began.

"My heart leaps up when I behold

A rainbow in the sky:

So was it when my life began;

So is it now I am a man;

So be it when I shall grow old,

Or let me die!

The Child is father of the Man;

And I could wish my days to be

Bound each to each by natural piety."

"That's beautiful, pop." Kat blushed under Henry's smirk when he heard the nickname slip from her lips. "William Wordsworth?" she guessed.

"Yes. I'd never heard of it before, but Mel showed it to me the other day."

Kat's smile faded like a shadow in the dark.

"Oh really, did she? So that's what you're doing when you meet? You read poems to each other?" Her voice had chilled in an instant, her body language switched from open hearted to closed off. Henry was confused by the sudden change of tone.

"Yes, she told me about it when I mentioned that I was looking for romantic poems by british poets. And no, that's not what we usually do."

"And what do you do? Usually?" 

"Nothing special, as I've told you before. And honestly, Kat..it's none of your business anyway."

That felt like a slap in the face to her.

"Right...yeah...you're absolutely right. It's none of my business what you do or who you're fooling around with." Kat got up, tapping off non-existing dirt from her jeans with determined motions that showed how touched and churned up she was.

"Fooling around?" Henry got up too in a hurry, knocking his head on a branch that was part of the treehouse's roof. He cursed before he turned to Kat again. "You can't be serious. You don't really think I f...that I sleep with Mel, do you?"

"I don't know what to think, Henry. You spend so much time with her lately…"

"And I've told you it's harmless and I just visit our neighbour from time to time." He tried to take her hand but Kat took a step back, turning around to stare out of the window with a deep sigh.

"You still don't trust me." His voice was sad now and there was a note of disappointment too. 

"I really want to, Henry. But it's so hard…" Her shoulders were trembling and her soft sobs told him she was crying. He hugged her gently from behind, wrapping his arms around her waist, resting his chin on her shoulder. "I know, kitty. And I know that I'm the one to blame for this dilemma. But you have to believe me. There's nothing between me and Mel. I don't fuck her and I'm not interested in her. I only care about you. Okay?" The last words were nothing more than a whisper in her ear, a light breeze of tones that made her want to believe him. She nodded, leaning into his embrace but she wasn't able to give him a proper answer. The truth was she had no answer. She knew she loved him but what she didn't know was if she was going to allow herself to act accordingly. 

"Listen, Kat. This might not be the right time nor place to do this, but I need to ask you something. I'm going to Jersey next week for my mum's 70s birthday and I wonder if you'd want to come with me?"

Kat turned around in his arms abruptly, taken by surprise by his question. He didn't let go of her waist and so she found herself closer than ever to him, his gorgeous face right in front of her. "You want me to go to Jersey with you?" He nodded. "As my plus one. Yes." She freed herself carefully from his embrace. "But…"

"Let me explain." Henry took a step back to give her some space. "My mum invited me months ago and I accepted...of course...but to be honest, I've dreaded that family gathering since day one. All eyes will be on me, everyone's gonna try to wrap me up in cotton wool, walking on eggshells around me, wondering if I'm okay." He sighed and shrugged. "Don't get me wrong. I'm beyond grateful to have a family that is worried about me, loving people who care, but it also stresses me out. Having you by my side would be very helpful and besides that, I would hate to be separated from you again. Those five days last week were long enough, Kat and don't even make me start with the 22 years prior. You have no idea how much I missed you." He gave her a sheepish smile and she couldn't help but return it. "I missed you too, Hen. But I'm really not sure if this is a good idea. Your parents hardly know me."

"Don't be silly. They remember you very well. You spent Christmas 1998 with us. Please don't say you forgot about that...my parents invited you after I spent the summer with your family here in St. Ives."

"Of course I remember that. It was the most lively and jolly Christmas of my childhood. All those people at your parents house, the chatter and singing and goofing about, it was such a stark contrast to Christmas with my family."

"See...you can have that again. A crowded, noisy place, loads of laughter, alcohol, fun and food. When I asked my mum if it's okay to invite you she was so excited, Kat. She'd love to see you again and so would my dad and my brothers. And I'm sure you're gonna like my sisters-in-law and all my nephews and nieces." Kat smiled.

"That sounds good."

"So you're in?"

"I don't know. Where would we stay? At your parent's?"

"No. I always stay at a small cottage near the beach when I visit them. I bought it a few years ago."

Kat started to chew on her lower lip.

"Two bedrooms." Henry added with a wink before making the next try to take her hands. This time she didn't pull back. "Please say yes, Kat. Let's spend some time together. We can stay there for a week or so. When the whole Cavill bunch leaves after the celebration, it will only be you and me and lots of time to...to bond again. So what do you say?"

*******

[levis-hazelnut]

Levi x Reader Hate At First Sight

Summary: after hearing about you getting into a fight with some Military Police, Erwin and Levi go to try and enlist you as a scout, much to Levi’s dismay. Though, after some months spent there, you found yourself to be disliked by many scouts.

(a/n: look at my baby his side profile he’s so beautiful. also i do not hate petra it’s just for the sake of the fic so please don’t @ me lmao)

You gripped your knees, your back hunched while your chest rose and sank as you tried to catch your breath. The reason you were running was that moments ago, some men tried to molest you. Though you were able to beat them down, you obviously didn't want to stay around that area of filthy MPs. Yes, they were everywhere, but that particular place isn't somewhere where you should be late in the evening. Only whores would walk around there. And you definitely aren't one of them. You may have the face and figure of one, but you would never stoop to that level just to get money and to pleasure foul men who treat women as objects. It's good that you're poor because then you have loose clothes that don't make your curvaceous body show. Walking at a slower pace, you made your way to your 'home' which was just a place behind a store, which had sacks piled on top of each other, making it comfortable enough to sleep there rather than the gelid ground. And to be able to get the owner to let you stay there, you had a massive dispute that caused you to get attention to yourself and you were on the verge of pulling out the blade you keep in your boot. But now, you are on good terms with him.

A lot of the friends you had didn't remain with you because of your temper. Or they would have been caught by the Military Police. Either way, you don't have any of your past friends. Hey, it's not your fault you would go out of control at any time, sometimes for no reason. Well, it is your fault but you didn't make yourself this way, so tell that to whatever god is up there.

You plopped down onto the stack of sacks, staring up at the midnight blanket, where stars sparkled in and the gleaming moon gazed down at you. As you rested your head on your arm and your other arm laid across your torso, your stomach slightly grumbled from being deprived of food. Sighing, you jumped up, heading inside the shop you laid behind. Thankfully, it was a small restaurant. As you walked in, the owner glanced at you with a frown. "(Y/N), it's closing time. Why are you coming in now?" You put a hand to your stomach. "Don't tell me. It's my hollow stomach." "Here." He chucked you a whole loaf of bread and an apple. "Now, leave. I've got to clean up." "Thanks.” Sitting back down, you threw the apple up in the air and caught it in your left hand as you ate the bread. After finishing the food, you relaxed and closed your eyes, so you could escape from the life you have and dream about living somewhere else, somewhere cosy, somewhere warm and more home-like. And maybe even someone you could spend your life with without them leaving you because of your fierceness or dying. ~/~ "Corporal Levi?" "What?" aforementioned person replied with an exasperated sigh. "Commander Erwin said he needs to talk to you." "Tch. Okay." He walked away with profanities soaring through his mind, wanting to just go to his office and avoid people that were getting on his nerves. Stepping into the Commander's office, he crossed his arms over his chest as he leaned against the wall after shutting the door. "What do you want?" The Commander gestured to a chair in front of him so the other male could sit down and he could inform him of the situation. "A while ago, in Wall Sina, there was a woman who got in a fight with a few Military Police and took off with ODM gear. She isn’t a soldier or anything, so she most likely hadn't handled gear before, but she was able to use it with ease, meaning she's someone skilled." "So?" "We need to go get her to enlist as a scout." "Tch. Why? She already sounds shitty and bratty." "We're going tonight, Levi." He stood up and left the office, clicking his tongue. All he wanted was to avoid people and now, he has to go get some bitch who probably doesn't even know how to wipe their ass. An hour, or so, ago... A group of four Military Police surrounded you, all of them having smug expressions that made you want to punch them in their faces... and then their balls. You wouldn't let them get away with only a punch to the face. Who do they think you are? A princess? You steal some gear thingy, that looked intriguing to you, from one of them and suddenly you're the bad guy? These idiots think they can beat you as well. You could just laugh. "Do you really think you can beat me?" you chuckled. You did just laugh. "We don't want to hurt you, darlin'. Just give us back the gear." "Who said you can call me darlin'?" you snarled and fly kicked one of them. He ended up slamming against the building behind him, sliding down the wall, knocked out. You charged at another, kicking their crotch and punching the top of his head as he dropped onto the ground with a thud.

Two more left... One of them came towards you with their fist drawn back to punch you with a force meant to harm you but you caught their fist and twisted their arm, pushing it towards their chest as they let out a cry of pain. You thrust your foot at his abdomen as he held his arm, groaning.

"Are you really going to try and beat me?" The last one only smirked, approaching you, so you pulled out the blades from the equipment you took from him and pressed it to his neck. He froze on the spot and gulped, cold sweat appeared on his flesh and dropped with a patter on the ground. "I'm going to give you five seconds to take your comrades and get your asses out of here." You put the blade back into its place and watched the panicking man pick up the other dirty humans and hurry away, not wanting to wait to see what you would do after five seconds. Ignoring the people gawking at you, you dusted your clothes before figuring out how to use the gear to head to your favourite shop, wanting something to drink. You were able to do it with ease, flying through the doors and swiftly landing on your feet. The bell rang to notify people that someone came in.

You sat on your table. Yes, it was your table and all the regulars knew that after seeing you pound a man for taking your table. Ever since then, no one has sat at that table apart from the drunk idiots who want your attention or people that haven't been to this place yet. It was near the window and it had the sofa seat so you would lean your back against the window, stretching your legs across the seat. You placed the equipment you took on the table.

"Oi, Luis," you called to the owner, and he looked at you from where he was at the counter. "The usual." He nodded at you and proceeded to make you your black tea with no sugar. After about five minutes, he placed the cup of tea in front of you as you handed him some money you were able to 'earn', paying him for the food he gave you the last few days as well. But you always got a discount so it wasn't too much of a problem for you to stea-- earn a bit of dough. "Hi, (Y/N)~" Yay, another drunken fool trying to hit on you. You rolled your eyes, disregarding his presence that sat opposite you as you drank your tea. He was saying shit you weren't listening to. But, seriously, who gets drunk during the day? He's probably just another jerk whose wife ran away from and took most of his money or something like that. All these snobby, egotistic people, who live within Wall Sina, piss you off to the extent that you want to make sure that their pained screams reach Wall Rose, so that those citizens would know what would happen if they pissed you off. "Hey, idiot, I'm going to give you three seconds to get out of my sight," you growled. All he did was smirk and lean over the table, trying to get closer to you. You punched him the middle of his face, but it didn't look like he could feel it. You stood up and dragged him off the seat, kicking him over and over as he laid on the sparkling, marble floor. "Hey, hey, hey!!" Luis jogged up to you. "(Y/N), you need to stop beating up my customers! Soon, you'll be my only customer." "Tell this bastard to get the fuck out and leave me alone, then." "I can't kick someone out for you." "Tch." You trudged out of the shop, wandering around the streets, hiding from any MPs that walked past, so you could evade another fight since you weren't in the mood for any action. "Hey, (Y/N)!" "Moritz," you greeted as he came up to you. "I haven't seen you in a while." "Just trying to stay away from any bastards. So, get away from me," you joked to which he chuckled softly. "My offer still stands... I'd like a daughter like you." "Sorry, Moritz. Leon isn't my type." "My son is in love with you. He's a kind and soft lad and if I'm being fair, he's handsome." "Exactly. That isn't my type. I want someone strong, feisty and someone able to handle my temper and maybe get into heated arguments with me. But of course, I want someone attractive." Several hours later... "Levi, are you ready?" "Yes." The stoic man let out a heavy breath and proceeded to leave his office, following the tall blonde. They both got their gear before leaving the building and entering a carriage waiting for them. "Why is this brat special? There are so many cadets that can use ODM gear." "As I said before, she isn’t a soldier and was able to use it without practice." "What's her name?" "(Y/N) (L/N)." The rest of the journey was quiet, only a few words of what they were going to do and the occasional click of the tongue because of how long the trip was. Finally, they arrived in front of a classy restaurant and it was filled with people due it being the evening when couples go there. You shimmied past the couples all dressed up in fancy clothes and you were able to make it out of it. Looking back over your shoulder, you rolled your eyes before frowning when you saw two men standing in front of you. You crossed your arms over your chest and arched an eyebrow. "Look, I took your friend's gear hours ago. Why are you still chasing after me? It's not that big of a deal." "Are you (Y/N) (L/N)?" the taller male asked. "... Yes. What do you want?" "May I see the gear you were talking about?" "Are you going to take it?" "No." "Okay. Follow me." You walked to your pile of sacks, expecting them to be behind you but they were in their place. "You coming or what?" They slowly approached you, wary of their surroundings. "What is this place?" the stoic male questioned, clearly disgusted. "Welcome to my humble abode." You ignored his criticism. You looked about for the gear but you couldn't find it, that's when you realised that you had left it in the restaurant. You hoped that no one took it. You sighed and looked into the restaurant, telling the two males where you left it, so they dismissed you, allowing you to get it and they followed you but waited outside. You opened the door, pushing people out of the way. "Move out the way, you fucking arrogant idiots," you muttered. You looked around your table where a couple sat but you didn't care since you weren't going to sit there and there wasn't any other space. You frowned when you didn't see it. Who the fuck took it? ... Oh, they did. There were two men and a woman on a table with the gear in front of them as they all put their nasty hands on it. The woman was drunk and holding a wine glass filled with a red liquid, one of the men was smoking and the other had a beer. You barged through the crowd, striding to their table. "Excuse me. This is mine." You tried taking it, but the man closest to you stopped you from doing that as he stood up, coming closer to you so you backed away. You could smell the cigarettes emitting from him as you held your breath at the foul smell. "Now, why would I let you take this without anything in return?" "Tch. Give it before I prevent you from having kids." "I wouldn't mind having a baby with a gal like you." "Get your breath out of my face. And give it to me. I swear, I'll knock you down so you won't be able to get up ever again," you grumbled. "I like my women feisty." You punched his left cheek and he stumbled back into his seat as you picked up the gear, turning around to face the entrance but all you saw was more people entering. Okay, you didn't care anymore. You swiped a man and stepped on him to get closer to the door but a woman came in your way, her boobs blocking your way. You slid through what little space there was and jumped over a short person, enabling you to exit and go back to the two men outside. The one with blue eyes looked surprised as you passed him the material. "That was impressive." "What?" "How you got past all those people." "Eh, it was nothing." "Anyway, are you able to use this properly?" "Yes. It isn't that hard." "Can you show me your skills with it?" "Why? Wait... how do you even know my name? Who are you people?" you inquired after realisation hit you. "I'm Commander Erwin Smith and this is Corporal Levi Ackerman. We're from the Scout Regiment and we heard that you got into a fight with some MPs and you were able to easily use this so I wanted to see your skills and see if you're worthy of becoming a scout." "Why would I want to join you? All of you are stupid to leave the walls to fight titans. I don't want to become like you. And there are a lot who don't even know how to fight and I don't want to fight with morons,” you responded. "Yes, I don't have a great life but it's better than risking it to go do something stupid. I don't care if you're the Commander and he's Humanity's Strongest Soldier, I'm not becoming a scout." "Tch. We don't do something stupid, we fight for humanity. You only fight to get away from trouble. I don't know why we have to save the likes of you but we do and we don't do it because we want to, we do it because we have to. And they may be idiots, but they're damn good soldiers who shouldn't be ill spoken about by someone like you," Levi growled lowly, venom laced in his words. 'Someone like you', who does this fucking midget think he is? You were probably around his height but women are generally shorter than men. You narrowed your eyes and proceeded to thrust your fist at his face but he dodged it before headbutting you. He punched your nose, causing it to bleed and he struck your gut straight after. He threw punches at you, one after another, until you had enough, bringing your leg up to kick the side of his head. He put his hand there, weakening the blow, and grabbed your ankle, slamming you down onto the stone ground. You felt slightly dizzy but you shook it off, standing up immediately, ramming your knuckles into his face and you tried to trip him over but he kept his balance. After punches being thrown and both of you being beaten up, to finish the fight off, he slid behind you and twisted your arm behind your back, stepping on your foot as his other hand held your wrist by your side. You tried shaking him off, but it was futile. He twisted your arm more, getting a quiet hiss of pain from you. "You may be able to beat up some useless MPs but we, at the Scout Regiment, are nothing like them. You better think twice before you try to fight with me." "Thank you, Le--" Erwin started but was cut off. "(Y/N)?" a gentle voice uttered, and you turned your head towards it. "What are you doing here, Leon?" "I-I came here to see you..." he shyly said, his ginger hair hiding his emerald eyes as he gazed at the ground where blood trailed. "What's happening? Who are these men?" He looked back up with concern pooling in his orbs. "It's nothing. Do you want to talk about something?" "It can wait. It looks like you have to deal with something." "Oi, get off of me. I won't try to put up a fight, or run away." "I don't trust you." You clicked your tongue and lifted your foot up to kick his groin but he wrapped his leg around yours so you weren't able to strike him. "Can I not talk to him?" you snapped. "Levi, let her go." "Idiot," you murmured loud enough so he was able to hear but he didn't say anything. You walked up to the boy. "Leon, I don't think you should tell me anything important because I don't know if I'm going to be able to see you after today. They're from the Survey Corps and they want to enlist me. I don't want to go, but it looks like they're going to force me." "But--" You could see the tears welling up in his pretty eyes. "I love you, (Y/N)." "I know. But that's how it is. Sorry." You didn't sound sorry at all, your tone was your usual dull, yet harsh one, but you genuinely did feel a bit of compassion for him. After two years of trying to get you to be his wife, you're going to leave his life without leaving any feelings for him. He was a gentleman and you liked him, however, not as a lover or whatever, he was just delightful to have around. You didn't want to leave him like this so you embraced him, gently rubbing his back and whispering a few words. "Will you ever come back?" "I don't know. It's a high possibility that I won't." "If you do, will you marry me then?" "We'll have to see," you smiled; it was the first smile you ever let break out onto your lips since you were around ten. "Tch. Why did I come to see this?" "Shut up, Levi. Just be glad that you'll have a valuable soldier on your side." A scowl replaced your smile. He scoffed. "We've got plenty of useful soldiers, including myself." "I might see you later, Leon. Bye." "Bye, (Y/N)." He took your hand and softly kissed it. And with that, you left the boy in heartbreak and started a new life as a scout after showing them your skills, which Levi scoffed at so you backhanded him. On the way to headquarters, you and Levi sat opposite each other and argued as Erwin silently sat there, wishing for the ride to be over. Since the journey was long and it was around midnight, you had fallen asleep after some time, allowing peace to settle into the carriage. Once you reached HQ, Erwin stepped out and stood by the carriage, waiting for you and Levi to get off. "Oi, brat, get up." Levi tried to awake you. "Brat, wake up." "Who you calling brat?" you asked tiredly, failing to convey your irritation. "You. Now, shut up and get out." "Tch. Don't go telling me what to do, Ackerman," you muttered angrily, too tired to put up a fight. All three of you entered the building and coincidentally, you were walking next to Levi, starting another argument so Erwin walked in between the both of you, leading you to his office, while Levi went to his.

"Take a seat, (Y/N),” he told you. "This is the key to your room. We'll fill out the paperwork and do everything tomorrow. For now, just go sleep and I'll tell you all you need to know tomorrow." "Whatever." You left his office after he told you the directions to your room and you went there, finding a single bed with a bedside table that had a lit lantern. The first thing you wanted to do was have a shower since you felt sweaty from all the action you had today. Once you showered, you went straight to bed, snuggling into the blanket, able to have a good night's sleep for once in ages. ~/~ After changing into your uniform, you looked at your reflection. It fit you very well but you didn't want it to. You don't like showing your curves, but it's not that you feel insecure with people looking, you just don't like it. You don't want your body to be the thing that attracts people and you don't want people coming after you because of your alluring figure. With no hesitation, you would punch anyone that tries to touch you. As you were told to, you went to Erwin's office before breakfast started, ignoring the gazes that were focused on your form. You rolled your eyes as you stepped into his office, slamming the door behind you. "Gosh, these idiots don't know how to keep their eyes in their sockets." You turned your head to the door, not noticing Erwin's cerulean eyes on you. He blinked to break himself out of his daze and cleared his throat as he gestured to the seat in front of him. You sat down casually, not caring about being formal. "Sit up, (Y/N)." "Tch." "Sit up," he repeated. "You shouldn't disobey your superiors." You sighed and did as he said. "Happy?" "I've got these papers for you to sign," he told you as he handed a few sheets. "And these papers have information that you'll need to know but I'm going to go through it with you. I'm going to put you in Hanji's command..." After about half an hour, you were able to leave his office and make it for breakfast. You entered the mess hall with him and grabbed some food, sitting down on an empty table since you have yet to get to know these people and you thought that people would come up to you first. "Who is she?" "Mmm~ Look at that ass." "Look at those boobs." "You lot are pervs." "You only say that because you have Krista." "Yeah, and she's better than whoever that woman is." "I think she's pretty." "She's certainly not ugly." "Eren?" "Mikasa, do you not say anything else?" "Eren?" "What?" "Stop ogling her." "I-I wasn't." "Yeah, right, Jaeger. Wipe the drool from your mouth." "I'm the one drooling? You look like you have rabies." "You want to take this outside?" "Both of you, stop being children." You glanced at the table making the most noise and saw that all ten of them were looking in your way. Some averted their eyes as others smiled at you, however, you gave a cold stare in return before looking back at your food. It wasn’t exactly intentional to look at them like that, it's basically just your usual expression. "Did you see that?" "She may be pretty, but she's rude." "Who does she think she is? Looking at us like that." "I didn't see what happened." "Of course you didn't. You were too busy stuffing your face with food." "I think we should go talk to her." "Yeah, teach her a lesson." "Guys, sit down. You can't do that do a new person." "Yeah, guys, what's wrong with you?... Wait like a week, then you can teach her a lesson." "Jean! Don't encourage them!" "Oi, you lot?" You stood at their table, their heads turning your way as they had just noticed that you were there. "If you try to beat me up, you'll be s-- What the hell are you doing?!" you yelled at the person on your left who just touched your ass. "Feeling your ass," he stated nonchalantly. "You people are pervs. I agree with whoever that it is." "Whoever that it is, is Ymir," said girl inserted. They all introduced themselves to you but you couldn't be any less interested. "Okay, whatever. I don't give a shit about who you are. I came here to tell you that if you, Eren, Ymir, Jean and Reiner, try to beat me up, you'll be sorry. And I don't understand, do you want to grope my ass or beat it, Reiner?" "Who said I can't do both?" he smirked as you rolled your eyes, about to go back to your table. "Wait, (Y/N). Why don't you sit with us?" "So I can get harassed? No, thanks." "Just sit with us. We promise we won’t do anything," Jean told you. With slight reluctance, you got your plate from the other table and sat on the end of the table next to Armin, everyone focused on you as you spoke about your life before you came here.

At times, you would notice brown eyes belonging to a strawberry-blonde girl and grey eyes belonging to a raven man flutter towards you, but every time you looked up, they pretended as if they weren't staring at you. You could feel their glares burn into you. And you knew Levi's stare was of anger, but what was that girl's problem? ~/~ You wore a vest top and shorts, training with Reiner who volunteered to, probably just so he could see you with fewer clothes on. It's been going on for the past few weeks. You were a bit distracted during training because you felt as if someone was watching you and they were giving off a dark aura. You looked around but couldn't find anyone. "(Y/N), are you okay?" "Yeah. Come on." You waited for him to attack you and he did but you were able to knock him down before you saw the cause of the dark aura in the distance. "Hey, you!" you shouted, going towards them. "Do you have something to say to me?" You crossed your arms over your chest. "No. Nothing at all." She clenched her jaw. "You're Petra, right?" "Yeah. Actually, I do want to tell you something, you stay away from Corporal Levi," she growled, scrunching your vest in her fist. "Woah, Petra! What are you doing to (Y/N)?" Reiner jogged up to the two of you. Damn, now you can't beat the crap out of her. She let go of you and put on a bright smile, facing Reiner who knew that that smile was fake. "Nothing. I was just giving her some advice about making friends." "We need to train so leave us alone," Reiner took your arm protectively and dragged you away, but you protested. "Wait. I'll train with Petra today," you smirked devilishly. "No." "Oi, Petra! How about you spar with me?" "... Why?" "Just." You shrugged. "Sure," she agreed when she saw Levi come outside of the building, taking the chance to get his attention. You knew she wasn't strong enough for her to beat you, so this wouldn't end well for her. You both got into a fighting stance, before you threw your fist forward at her face, but you stopped just before you hit her so she dodged the potential blow and wasn't able to elude the kick you gave at her side. She was about to topple over but she caught herself, not letting you be victorious just yet. She attempted to punch your gut but you blocked it by making a cross over yourself. A crowd formed around you two, including the Corporal that Petra seemed obsessed about. But, of course, with his short stature, he wasn't able to see who exactly was fighting, so he pushed people out of the way, able to reach the front and see you and Petra. She tried to trip you over but that failed miserably and she fell flat on her face. A few from the huddle snickered quietly as others applauded even though it wasn't a real win. You crouched down and whispered, "Good luck in impressing that stubborn idiot." You got back up, grabbed your uniform and walked off, ignoring Levi who called for you. "Hanji!" you called to get her attention as she strolled through the castle. "Yes?" "Does Petra like Levi or something?" "I think so, yes. Why are you asking?" "During my training, she was watching me and she said to stay away from him. We got into a small fight which quickly ended because of her stupidity. I'm guessing the only reason this happened is that she's jealous. But she's moronic if she thinks that I would try to move to Levi." "Who's moronic?" a familiar voice spoke from behind you. You turned around. "Petra. Why the fuck would she think that I like you? You're bothersome, you're stubborn, you're irritating, you're an ass, you annoy the hell out of me and you're a bastard." "Thanks," he replied sarcastically. "The same can be said about you." "Tch. Shut it, Ackerman." "You know, you have a temper problem. And you shouldn't talk to me like that." "This is who I am. I can talk to you in any way I like." "You might not be able to talk after I knock your teeth out," he threatened with a glare. "I'm not scared of you." "We'll see about that," he muttered before walking away. "And put some clothes on." "What did you do to Shorty to make him so angry with you?" "I called soldiers stupid. Got in a fight with him. We've argued a lot of times." "Oof. I would have advised you to stay on his good side." "Too late." You shrugged. "It won't last long. He'll soften up after some time." "I don't think he will. Whatever, I need to go 'put some clothes on'." "Okay. Can I borrow you after for help with experiments?" Hanji asked slowly, hoping you wouldn't yell at her like last time, saying how you didn't give a sh*t about it. "No," you bluntly said as you left her, going to your room but was stopped by an annoying figure who you rolled your eyes at. "Looking good, (Y/N)." "Shut up." "You look a little dirty, want to have a shower with me?" You grabbed Jean's collar and brought your face close to his, a glare etched on your visage as you saw his Adam's apple move down and then back into its place as he gulped. "Shut the hell up and I'll let this one time slide." He nodded and scurried off once you let you go of him, entering your room and locking the door behind you. You decided to shower since you were covered in sweat and you felt nasty. ~/~ "Eurgh, look who it is," a voice whispered a little too loud as you entered the mess hall for breakfast, striding to your usual table with a few of people that you don't mind being around and the few that aren't annoying you or bothering you in any way. "She doesn't belong here." "You know, I heard that before she came here she worked in a brothel." "Everyday, she wears her vest top and short shorts, acting like a slut." "The other day, she was being a bitch to me. She laughed at my figure when I was looking in my reflection. Then, she said that no one would love me when I have a body like this." "I've heard that she's flirted with every man she's had contact with." This has been going on for at least three months: people making fun of you, talking about you, pushing you about, calling you names and such. You haven't taken any of it to heart, but you wondered what happened to make nearly everyone despise you. Everyone but superiors and the ten scouts you had befriended first, and even though Levi dislikes you, he doesn't contribute to the crowd that is being cruel to you. He already hated you from the start. "They're still going at it?" "Forget about them," Erwin told you. "How can I when they're practically saying it to me? All of what they're saying isn't even true. And they shouldn't try to start a fight with me because I'll beat the sh*t out of them." "Well, you are a bitch, so that's true," Levi murmured. "Ackerman, I suggest you shut up before I beat the shit out of you." You rammed your heel into his foot under the table since you were opposite him. "Tch. You should be happy that some of us aren't part of those dumb brats." "Dumb?" you repeated. "So, you're saying that they're dumb for saying all that stuff about me?" "... No... They're stupid in general." "Mhm." "What was that?" He frowned. "What?" "That 'mhm'." "Nothing." After staring at each other questioningly, you both went quiet as the other superiors on your table carried on their own conversations. Halfway through breakfast, you felt something cold and wet being poured onto your head, soaking your shirt and falling down your shirt which sent a shiver through you. You stood up and turned around to the laughing bastards, kicking the boy in the nuts and slapping the girl which shut them up. "What the fuck is your problem?! What did I do to you?!" "Someone decided to go braless today," the girl whispered to the other. You looked down and felt your cheeks growing red, out of rage and embarrassment. Something landed on your head and hung over your chest. You realised that it was a cape that Levi threw at you, which you wrapped around yourself before heading to your room to change out of the drenched clothes that you had just changed into. "Why the hell are you doing this? Yeah, she can be a brat, but all of you are, so I don't know why you lot are acting like this towards her when she didn't do anything. Both of you have kitchen duty for two months. If I see you one of you two do anything to her, you won't see the end of it." "Yes, sir." "Now, get the hell out of my face," Levi ordered as he sat back down in his seat, the others on the table looking at him with surprise. Who knew he would stand up for you like that? "What are you looking at?" "How come you stood up for (Y/N) like that?" Miche asked. "I didn't stand up for her. I was scolding them for acting like that towards a cadet." "Yeah, yeah, that's what they all say," Hanji said quietly with a smirk. "You shut up, Shitty Glasses." "I'm just saying that I don't think you would have done that for any other scout." "... That may be true, but they're mistreating (Y/N) for no reason." "Getting close to her, are we?"

"Tch. Just shut up." "Shorty has a crush~" Hanji sang in a low voice near his ear as she sat next to him, her 'best friend'. "I've only known her for five damn months. How could I already like her?" "Why are you asking me? And five months isn't that short, it's quite long if you think about it." "I don't care. I don't like her." "Okay~ Whatever you say~" Levi shot daggers at her before going back to eating in silence, not interacting with any more annoying people who seem to have a habit of bothering him nearly every day. One day, they'll leave him and he can live in serenity. One day, when all the titans are rid of and he can leave this shithole. All he has to do wait for that damn day that's taking its time to arrive. Can't it be a little more considerate? "I have to agree with Hanji. You seem to be a little protective over (Y/N)," Erwin stated after some time. "I. Don't. Fucking. Like. That. Brat." "Calm down, Levi. It's not a bad thing to like (Y/N)," Moblit teased. "Tch." The raven stood up and left the mess hall as he could hear the others laughing at him in the background. He slammed the door shut and trudged to his office with a scowl. He found you standing outside his office, your hand reaching for the handle but you stopped when you saw him come your way. "What are you doing, brat?" "I was going to give you your cape back. Thanks," you muttered. "Shut up," he grumbled, snatching the material from your hands and stepping into his office, locking the door. "Oi! Why are you telling me to shut up when I said thanks?" you shouted. "Get away from my office!" he yelled back. You rolled your eyes and started to go back to the mess hall. "Last time I thank you, bastard," you mumbled to yourself. ~/~ Your door shut with a bang after you had stormed into it, and leaned your back against the wood, hiding your face in your hands as you cried. Your legs gave out so you dropped to the ground with your legs arched and your arms resting on your knees as you placed your head on your arms, feeling tears drop onto your lap, seeping through your clothes. Two minutes later, you heard laughing, yelling and then footsteps approach your room. Light knocks sounded from the door with the soft call of your name. You knew who it was, but didn't respond so they turned the handle, slowly pushing the door open, however, you prevented that from happening by sitting by the door. They slid through the small gap before closing the door again, crouching down to you. "(Y/N)." "Leave me alone!" you shouted, though it was muffled behind your sobs and your face was hidden. "No. You obviously need someone right now." "I hate you! I hate all of them! Just get the fuck out!!" you roared, tearing your face away from your arms and looking at Levi's gentle expression. He didn't seem startled at all. "... Why are they doing this to me?" you whispered and concealed your face again, not wanting Levi to see you in this state. "Ignore them." "You know, it's all that Petra's fault. The bitch is envious of me and just wants to break me down into nothing. All because she's in love with you and she thinks that I like you!" "Tch. I don't even like her. She can fuck off. And how is doing this going to make me fall for her? I was wondering why she was being more clingy than usual," he muttered, but it was more to himself before he turned his attention back to you. "Don't let her break you down. You're a strong woman, so don't let something petty like this ruin you." "What am I meant to do? You don't know how hard it is to overlook them. You don't know how hard it is to keep a straight face when I'm hurting inside. I don't care if Petra may be making them do this, I hate it!" Surprisingly, you felt arms loop around your cowered form and haul you onto Levi's lap which made you remove your head from your arms again, looking at the raven, who was now right in front of you and gazing at your bloodshot eyes. He gently wiped your tears away and brushed a few (H/C) tresses that stuck to your tear-stained face.

More tears escaped as you shoved your face into his chest, soaking his shirt with the salty moisture and snot. He cradled you in his arms until you stopped crying which was about under an hour. "Are you okay now?" "Yeah. Thank you," you murmured as you wiped your face with tissue that Levi got for you. "Don't mention it. Do you need to talk?" "What's there to talk about? Petra hates me so she got people to make my life hell and I broke down." "I don't know how you were able to put up with it for half a year." "Barely. I just put on a poker face." Levi gently grabbed your chin in between his index finger and thumb, tilting your head towards him as you saw a slight smile creep onto his lips. "Don't hide your feelings anymore," he whispered before tenderly kissing you, his eyes fluttering shut. You were taken aback before you were brought back to your senses, finding yourself kissing him back as you cupped his face with a single hand. One of his hands trailed up from your hips to your scalp, tangling his slender fingers in your tousled locks. He was the first to pull away with gleaming orbs gazing at you with affection, licking away the strand of saliva that connected his lips to yours. "I'll always be here for you. To protect you, to talk, to comfort you, or whatever else you want." "Thank you, Levi," you hummed, leaning your forehead against his, pecking his lips once more. "Come on. Let's go eat." "I don't want to go," you said with pleading eyes. "I told you that I'll be here for you. You have to eat something before you sleep." "Please, don't make me go." "Just sit with me. I'll make sure that no one does anything to you." "I can't." "You need to endure it to become stronger. I'll be right next to you, okay?."

Sighing shakily, you stood up with a nod. "Okay." "I like seeing this vulnerable side of you," Levi teased as he walked out of your room, you padding beside him. "Shut up. You aren't allowed to tell anyone about this." The Corporal only smirked as you rolled your eyes.

As you strolled through the corridors to get to the mess hall, a few people were lingering, standing on the side and snickering when you went past. You tried to ignore them, though, it was difficult. "I heard that she got Corporal Levi drunk to sleep with her." "I can't, Levi. I'm going back to my room." You proceeded to turn and walk away but he grabbed your forearm. "(Y/N)." He cupped your face with both of his hands, making you face him but you averted your eyes, feeling tears welling up. "Look at me." You reluctantly brought your eyes back to his. "She's a whore. She tried to make me have sex with her and my friend. She wanted a threesome!" "Levi, I'm going." You tried freeing yourself from his hold, but he didn't let you. "No. Look at me. Ignore them." "How am I meant to ignore them?!" "Look at me!" he commanded. "... You can ignore them if you put your mind to it. Don't let them cause you grief because then it pains me to see you hurt. I don't like seeing you in pain so don't get affected by them. Ignore them and keep your eyes on me." A tear rolled down your cheek so he embraced you tightly, stroking your back soothingly. He let out an inaudible huff, wishing he could relieve your pain. "I won't force you to go to the mess hall. Go to my office, I'll bring you food." You nodded and pulled away from his grip. When you made your way to his office, people would say or do things but you stayed strong, and you were kind of proud of yourself once you made it into his office. You sat down on his sofa, waiting for him to come back. About five minutes later, the raven appeared with a tray of two bowls, bread and two glasses of water. He settled it onto his desk after you helped him clear the surface. You both sat down and ate together, allowing him to see your smile that he was deprived of ever since people started to harass you. After years of dreaming of having a home, having someone to stay with you, they came true. You have someone strong, feisty and you're sure you'll have plenty more heated arguments to come. On top of it all, he was damn sexy.

[wrongwiredmind]

Even though I love Thorin, I'll always hold a little bit of hatred in my heart for him,

I could understand the resentment and somewhat jealous feeling he had for people like Bilbo, whose life, seemingly, held no hardships and pain,

But come on!!!

You might "not" have invaded his home, since you were under the impression that Gandalf already informed the poor lad of the suicidal mission, and you might have "not" invited yourself to his pantry (since, according to the movie, he just had a loaf of bread and broth) because, again "he said there'll be food, lots of it" according to Dwalin, said by Gandalf.

I might even accept the insults at first since you thought he wanted the job, but then it became so clear that had no idea, whatsoever, about the whole ordeal!!

And what do you do? You keep insulting him, and not just that, you keep insinuating that he is "useless" and "has no place among the company".

I'm not saying you should hold his hands to cross the mountain pass, I'm saying that you might not like him, but you're supposedly a king-to-be, which means you should be fair and equal to your subjects, i.e., the company.

Not to mention your "impossible-to-achieve-requirements"

He proved he has a willing heart when he left his home running to catch up with you lot, a strong mind when he tricked the trolls, loyalty when he returned even after you so eloquently insulted him behind his back, able body to rescue you from Azog when you stupidly charged, blind to the consequences, towards a certain death, a shitload of patience that he kept with you and your little entourage (I'm sorry, I love them but I'm on fire right now!) without exploding more than a couple of times!!!!!

As for honour, I'm not sure what's your definition of the word, but according to mine, Bilbo could as well be the Hobbit-ish embodiment of it!!!

Should I say more, or is that enough?

Not to mention the whole Charlie foxtrot that happened starting from lake town till your poetic words at the top of the ironhills.

Shall I mention the flowery situation that happened in mirkwood?

You're full of empty words, Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror, and a lot of empty titles, Mr. "King Under the Mountain"

Anyway, I actually really do like him a lot, Bagginshield is one of my most favourite otps, that's of course mostly thanks to fanfics, but it really bothered me that a lot of fics say that Bilbo has to "prove" himself to Thorin, even though Thorin should prove himself worthy to leave the home, books, handkerchief, parents' memories, and his dead mother's doilies and dishes, and follow hmthe supposed king to the other side of middle earth!!

They didn't even prove they we legit!!

Bilbo really deserved non of the treatment fallen on him by those blasted dwarrows!!

Finally, I really do love him, but feelings could be rather complicated 😅.

[writingfromkitchenator]

1,500 Followers Challenge!

The Title/Trope Challenge!

Again, thank you all for all your support!  You are all amazing and I truly cannot thank you enough for helping me get this far.  It’s certainly a milestone that I never thought I’d see.

Straight to the challenge!

Basic rules apply ~ there are 30 songs and 30 quotes posted below, pick one from your fandom with your character.  This will be open for a while as 2 requests per song/quote.  The only rule is here is, is that the requests cannot be from the same fandom.  I will try and keep the lists as updated as I can to try and avoid cross overs!

The extra - This time around, send me either a title and/or a trope to base to the fic on.  They can be as weird and wonderful as you want, or something simple.  In your ask, just specify which you are sending me and I’ll do the rest from there!

Recap:

Send me an ask with your request

Include your fandom and character

Choose a song and quote

Give me a title and/or a trope to base the fic on!

In saying that, please remember that this is all just a bit of fun, I’m sure you can have a laugh at some of the quotes below (based off of some of my favourite movies).  Please send all requests through asks, it’s easier for me to keep track of, and let me know of any questions!  It is, of course, okay to request more than once!

For now, there is no closing date, we will just keep going until all the requests are full!  Requests will be closing 1st May.

Further info below the cut.

Songs

Evermore  ~ Dan Stevens (Beauty and the Beast) - Lord of the Rings

Protector  ~ City Wolf - Supernatural and The Hobbit

I  See the Light ~ Mandy Moore and Zachary Levi (Tangled) - Lord of the Rings

I'd  Do Anything For Love (But I Won't Do That) ~ Meat Loaf - Marvel and Supernatural

Bloodshot  ~ Sam Tinnesz

Let’s  Hear It For The Boy ~ Deniece Williams

All  Eyes On You ~ Smash Into Pieces

Feel  Invincible ~ Skillet

Natural  ~ Imagine Dragons - Lord of the Rings

Wrong  Side Of Heaven ~ Five Finger Death Punch

Shatter  Me ~ Lindsey Stirling Ft. Lzzy Hale - Supernatural

Feeling  Good ~ Nina Simone - The Hobbit and Marvel

Somebody  To Love ~ Queen - The Hobbit and The Witcher

Hurricane  ~ Thirty Seconds to Mars

You  Give Love A Bad Name ~ Bon Jovi - The Hobbit

Girls  Just Wanna Have Fun ~ Cyndi Lauper - Supernatural

Total  Eclipse of the Heart ~ Bonnie Tyler - The Hobbit

Don’t  You (Forget About Me) ~ Simple Minds

Hell  Ain’t a Bad Place to Be ~ AC/DC

Love  Is A War ~ Jeremy Renner

A  Reason to Fight ~ Disturbed - The Witcher

True  Love ~ P!nk ft. Lily Allen - Marvel and Supernatural

Poison  ~ Alice Cooper

Sucker  for Pain ~ Lil Wayne, Wiz Khalifa & Imagine Dragons w/ Logic & Ty  Dolla $ign ft X Ambassadors (Suicide Squad)

Hello  Hello ~ Elton John ft. Lady Gaga (Gnomeo and Juliet) - Lord of the Rings and Supernatural

I’m  Gonna Be (500 Miles) ~ The Proclaimers - Marvel and Lord of the Rings

I Will Always Love You ~ Whitney Houston  (The Bodyguard) - Supernatural and Lord of the Rings

When You Wish Upon A Star ~ Cliff Edwards  (Pinocchio) - The Hobbit

Raise Hell ~ Dorothy

Leave Me Lonely ~ Imelda May

Quotes

I mean, those people aren't exactly our regular customers. (Legion)

I would not have shown you such mercy. (Legion) - Lord of the Rings

When you hesitate, people die. (Doom)

Yeah, I was thinking about it. (Doom)

Will you please get this child off my leg? (Bedknobs and Broomsticks) - Supernatural

Do you poison the dragon or just the liver? (Bedknobs and Broomsticks)

I don't know about you, but I'd like to make today worth remembering. (The Music Man) - Supernatural and Lord of the Rings

A man can't turn tail and run just because a little personal risk is involved. (The Music  Man) - Marvel

You idiots! You fools! You imbeciles! (101 Dalmatians) - Supernatural

It was a beautiful spring day. Tedious time of the year for bachelors. (101  Dalmatians) - Marvel

I think I am familiar with the fact that you are going to ignore this problem until it  swims up and bites you in the ass. (Jaws) - Lord of the Rings

Smile you son of a bitch! (Jaws)

You never have control, that’s the illusion! (Jurassic Park) - The Hobbit

Boy, do I hate being right all the time.  (Jurassic  Park) - The Witcher

The suspense is terrible.  I hope it'll last. (Willy  Wonka and The Chocolate Factory) - Lord of the Rings

So shines a good deed in a weary world. (Willy Wonka and The Chocolate Factory)

That was naughty. (The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen) - The Hobbit and Supernatural

You broke my heart once. This time you missed. (The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen)

You know, he looks heroic and he walks fast, but he’s kind of got a negative attitude.  (The Meg) - The Lord of the Rings

Yeah, well, I’m not crazy, I’ve just seen things no one else has. (The Meg) - Marvel

Eight years is a long time. Can I make you a cup of tea? (Godzilla) - Marvel

As far as he's concerned, you're just a pair of breasts that talk. (Godzilla) - The Hobbit

Afraid? You don't know what afraid is. You will not last five minutes without me.  (Jumanji) - The Hobbit

Oh, okay, honey. Well, that would be cheating. (Jumanji) - The Hobbit

Carrots? Why is it always carrots? I didn't even eat carrots! (Atlantis: The Lost Empire) - Supernatural

I know what you seek, and you will not find it here. (Atlantis: The Lost Empire) - Supernatural and The Witcher

No. I can't do that, and if you were in my position, you'd do the same. (Alien)

When I give an order I expect to be obeyed. (Alien)

I think it's better to have ideas. You can change an idea. Changing a belief is trickier.  (Dogma) - Lord of the Rings

Well, I say we get drunk, because I'm all out of ideas. (Dogma) - Lord of the Rings and The Hobbit

Characters I will write for:

The Hobbit – Thorin, Fili, Kili, Dwalin, Bofur, Nori, Gloin (friends only), Frerin, Thranduil, Bard, Legolas, Bilbo, Lindir, Beorn

The Lord of the Rings – Aragorn, Boromir, Eomer, Faramir, Legolas, Gimli, Frodo, Merry, Pippin, Elrond, Haldir

Supernatural – Sam, Dean, Castiel, Crowley, Gabriel, Lucifer, Benny, Balthazar, Chuck, Garth, Mick, Gadreel, Charlie, Bobby

Marvel – Tony Stark, Clint Barton, Bruce Banner, Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers, Loki, Thor, Peter Quill, Logan, Stephen Strange, Carol Danvers, Sam Wilson, Heimdall

Dragon Age – Alistair, Anders, Cullen, Morrigan, Zevran, Leliana, Fenris, Sebastian, Iron Bull, Dorian, Cassandra, Blackwall, Varric

Harry Potter – Harry, Ron, Hermione, Draco, Neville, Remus, Sirius, Fred, George

Star Trek (Newer Films) – Kirk, Spock, Bones, Scotty

The Witcher (TV Series) – Geralt, Yennefer, Jaskier

Of course, this list isn’t a final thing, if you feel I could write a character, please just send me a message and I’ll let you know if I’m comfortable with it or not.

Please of course note that all drabble requests are reader insert.  I will not do character pairings, but I will change to first/third person if you prefer reading that way.  Y/N will be the standard name though and remain that way.

For any Dragon Age requests, if you wish to appear as a certain race, please let me know.

[tree-wizard]

White Night Fantasy

@promiseddifferent @roseprincess1994

My second fic! I got insanely carried away with this one and wrote like 7 pages of Scroldie just laying bed????

Anyways, this takes place right after that implied Prisoner of White Agony Creek scene. So lots of mention of sex but nothing explicit in any way. Lots of introspection and fluff.

I was very intentional with the way I wrote Goldie passages vs Scrooge passages but no one is probably even going to notice.

Title is a Nightwish reference as always. The lyrics of that whole song are perfect.

And oh I made both Scrooge and Goldie Demi .... BEACUSE I CAN HEHEHEH

Goldie starred up into the darkness. She’d gotten a bit carried away in the last hour but now she had to focus on what this had all been for. The nugget. She started to run through different plans but then suddenly stopped. She’d already stolen it. She’d literally had it in her hands last night. Along with the rest of the lockbox with its deed. That was the whole reason why she even let him take her to this isolated barren place. He was knocked out, she had a ride to Dawson, it was more perfect than she could have imagined. But then she saw a curl of her golden hair. The one he’d stare at every night. And she came back. She came back.

Had the sex been for no reason then? She’d always had a reason. Money, future favors, stolen treasure, something. It was always pleasurable once she was in the depth of it but she never had the urge to do it just because. But this time was different. She actually longed for it, without having anything to gain. Except him. She’d longed to have his rough hands move over her body, to have his lips bless her, to feel his breath. She’d never felt like this about anyone before and had no idea sex could be like this.

And in the midst of it all she wasn’t thinking about angles. She wasn’t plotting future moves. All that had matter was being with him. Her defenses had lowered. The defenses she’d gotten so used too, she forgot that they were even there, that she had existed at some point without them. But, oddly, she hadn’t felt exposed. It had felt natural, she felt present and secure. It had just felt right somehow. 

And now he was in her bed with her. Wait, no, she was the one who was in his bed. She passed her hand over the wood. His bed. It just dawned on her that he had slept where she lay every single night before she was here. He broke his back over the same stiff wooden frame, held the same blankets tightly to his shivering huddled body. The heat of the stove would warmly embrace his legs, making him relax his shoulders after a long day of work and convincing him to give into the awaiting rest. What did he think of—those days when he wasn’t too exhausted to think at all as she was sure was the case most nights—before slumber overtook him? His family back in Scotland? All his past travels and endeavors? The fortune he wished to find? Did he face the wall or the open room? Did he squirm in his sleep a lot? What dreams did he have, if any? 

Did his spirit linger all the days she slept here?  He’d always been with her in that case but now he was actually here. They were sharing the bed. In a sense it was theirs. That felt bittersweet for some reason. As if she knew she was lying to herself and she had to forget about such stupid fantasies and grow up. But she pushed the uneasy sense to the back of her mind and tried to focus instead on the warm comfort spreading through her. Their bed.

Scrooge lay in bed waiting to cool off and catch his breath. The rush of the last hour was settling down, leaving his head clear for reflection. The contentment was turning into nervousness as he realized that she was lying only a few inches away.

He had a hard time believing what had just happened. It felt like his whole world had shifted slightly and now everything was slightly off. He presumed that it was actually a pretty normal thing and something that typically happened much earlier than thirty. But it never really crossed his mind at any point in his life. He didn’t care for women, or anyone for that matter, before. He couldn’t understand why other men would go all googly eyed and waste their money on random bar girls. Why would they go crazy at seeing a woman with slightly lifted skirts. He didn’t pay attention to all the dance hall girls in Dawson and that’s probably why he could work besides Goldie whereas any other man would probably be losing their mind the whole time.

But as the days working next to Goldie had passed, he’d felt an unusual twisting warmth take up a home at the bottom of his stomach. He wanted to reach out to Goldie whenever he looked at her lately. He wanted to be near her. Wanted to have that warmth envelope her too. He would heat up when she kissed him and he burned when she went further than that. He didn’t know what was going on with his body. Why was it betraying him, now after thirty years? 

He used to think that if he ignored it, it would go away, but it had only grown, the warmth spreading through his whole body. He used to want to get rid of it but now he didn’t mind that much. He’d felt so much relief and pleasure when they made love. He felt special and he liked to see her enjoyment too. He wanted to be with her. 

It seemed that everything around him stopped when she kissed him. There was only mindless passion. The hard exterior he kept up, especially around her, and all his doubts about himself and her all disappeared. But now that they were done, Scrooge didn't know what was going to happen. Were they just going to wake up tomorrow and go back to their constant bickering, eyes filled with rage? Had it all just been some weird slip up?

Or worse, had it all been a trap? Maybe all that just happened was just a way for her to seem innocent, to make it look like she cared for him, to spin his head so that she’d have time to run away with his gold. He didn’t drink her coffee, her poison, earlier that day so this was plan B. Using her seductive powers to enchant unsuspecting men just long enough to steal their gold was her specialty. She was a siren, ready to drag men that passed her into deep dark waters. He’d already fallen for it once and he’d always curse himself for that. 

Except he didn’t feel too bad about it now for some reason. NO NO! He had been foolish and he couldn’t let it happen again. He wasn’t like all those other men. He couldn’t show any kind of care for her. That would be giving in. She’d know she had him in her grasp. He was smarter than the smarties, tougher than the toughies, sharper than the sharpies. He had to be.

 But he felt his cheeks warming up. Maybe the need to constantly mask his feelings wasn’t just because he needed to keep her from having an advantage over him. Maybe it was easier to pretend that he hated her than to confront the reality: she hadn’t only been able to do the impossible and turn him on, he had truly fallen for her. Find gold, send money to his family, make his fortune. That’s all he planned for, all he had focused on for the last two decades. This was not part of the plan. He couldn’t get distracted when he was finally so close to reaching his goals.

And yet simply going back to the way things were and pretending  that this night never happened seemed impossible. He could just tell her to leave tomorrow morning.

But could he just let her go like that? Make her leave? Never see her again? Remain in this infinite loneliness?

He turned to look at her. With the aid of a moonbeam, he could make out that she lay on her back, her arms crossed over her chest, her eyes closed. Her eyebrows were slightly furrowed and she seemed to be thinking about something. She seemed so soft and peaceful like this. He’d seen her face when it was furious, annoyed, exhausted, focused, lustful (an image that sent electric shivers down his spine) but this one seemed the most precious.

He silently whispered her name. Goldie.

He thought about her all the time and wondered what she thought of. What she was feeling? As much as she was truly the Ice Queen of the North, he could tell that she had a tender heart. Maybe so much that it made her swear to keep up her walls, be strong and never vulnerable. Just like him. They really were so alike. She loafed around and complained a lot and barely did any work in the first few days but he’d watched her slowly get more and more focused until she was just as determined as him. She tried to hide it but he’d noticed how excited she got any time she found some nuggets. He smiled to himself. She really understands now how rewarding hard work is. And she definitely could rise up to the challenge, to all his expectations, and seemed eager to prove herself. She was like a hearty gold veil, full of vigor. Head held high. And she was just as beautiful and shone just as bright as one too. He loved to see her proud with herself. To see her wipe her hands at the end of the day, look proudly down at her findings and smirk at him, with a hint of a giggle, claiming to have found more gold than him. Of course he always replied with a cold stare and a disapproving sigh but he actually really loved when she did that. He loved to see her rare giggles and genuine laughs, and when she’d playfully punch him or make faces at him or throw snowballs in his face. He loved it when they would settle down for meals and she’d listen to him retell his adventures with curious soft eyes. And when she’d talk about her own past and her success with her saloon. He loved that wistful look in her eyes. He loved how she’d sit with her face nestled in her hands, around their evening fire, and just attentively look out ahead, taking in the quiet beauty of the valley painted by the glow of the setting sun. The alpenglow on the mountains in the distance. The grandeur and purity of the Yukon wilderness. He just loved having her work and sit beside him, hearing her breath and feeling the whispers of her feathers.

He loved her.

But such affection was foreign to him. Even if he let himself admit it was there, even if he let himself give in to it, he had no idea what to do with it and that scared him. Fighting with her, keeping her at bay was the already well trodden path, the matted snow. But there on his side was fresh new snow where he hadn’t been before and as much as it was beautiful and glistening and tempting he had no idea what lay under it. It could be jagged rocks or feet upon feet of just snow that he would fall through once he took a step into it. 

He had no idea what Goldie even thought about him. She’d kissed him and then she’d hit him and threw the coffee pot and a bunch of plates at him and then she’d made love to him. He didn’t know what to make of that. He could understand why she’d be angry with him. He’d taken her against her will. He’d taken her away from her business and who knew what would happen to the Blackjack now? He’d essentially kidnapped her. She had to stay with a stranger in an unknown land. And he forced her to work every day too. He felt very ashamed of all this now. She had stolen his gold but she hadn’t deserved this. He could understand why she’d want to get away, even if she didn’t take his gold. She’d return to her home, to the business she had made from nothing and that meant everything to her, where she was in control and where her name, her name, mattered.

She’d told him earlier that if she’d wanted to steal his gold again she would have done it long ago. Maybe she cared for him at least a little then. It definitely felt like she did when they did it but that was most likely because it was his first time and he didn’t know better. He felt so special and adored then, like it was only the two of them in the whole world. But she’d probably had countless similar encounters before. He’d taken her away from the saloon, from Dawson, and she hadn’t seen anyone for a whole month. She probably just finally decided that the clueless virgin was her only option right now. And now she’d return to Dawson, to better men. Did he really believe that Glittering Goldie, the Star of the North, the Ice Queen, would actually love someone and if she did it’d be him?

He felt his chest ache from all those thoughts. He desperately wanted to touch her. To feel her warmth and at least pretend that she cared for him. He turned to face her again and froze.

Just do it, you big dope. Reach out to her. You are the Master of the Mississippi, the Buckaroo of the Badlands, the Terror of the Transvaal, the King of the Klondike and you’re scared of this? You’re Scrooge McDuck, for God’s sake!

At that Scrooge slowly extended his hand and moved away a strand of her face and stroked her cheek. Goldie jerked from the sudden contact and then turned to him with a mischievous smirk, and a catty look in her eyes. But he noticed her expression soften and her eyes become full of longing. He was suddenly reminded of when he came home from shoe shining when he was a child in Glasgow and Matilda would run up to him all upset because some mean boy had teased her and all she wanted was to be scooped up and embraced by her big brother. Her eyes would glisten with a prelude of tears but they’d also be brimming with joy at seeing her brother.

Goldie turned to him with her default expression but suddenly felt herself melt. There he was. His nervous innocent face. Less than a dozen inches away. With those curious big brown eyes. The clear pearl blue moonlight, speckled with floating dust angels, trickled over him. She was so close to him and it felt so intimate and peaceful. She could almost see the warm fuzzy tension in the air suspended between them. She felt herself blush. She wanted to lay here and look at this cute miner forever. The night was endless. It was just them in the cabin, in the same bed, under the same blanket, and her past, the outside world, time itself seemed to fade to the background.

She shifted closer to him and nestled her head into the crook of his neck. Scrooge’s eyes widened. He certainly hadn’t expected her to reciprocate his touch. She pulled the sheets closer over them and started to move one of her hands in small circles over his chest feathers. The movements sent a warm stream through him and pulled him out of his stupor. He finally grew accustomed to what was happening and rested a soft kiss at the top of her head. Goldie smiled at that and pulled him closer, Scrooge wrapping an arm over her back. He closed his eyes. She’s in my arms.

Goldie could feel his heart beating fast so she started to coo quietly in hopes of calming him down (and herself- her own heart wasn’t beating much slower). He squeezed her shoulders. Did he really stare at her curl of hair every night? Could he really love her? For something other than her body even. She felt so comfortable laying in his arms. And this was new for her. She didn’t let other men come this close before. They were foolish and mean and repulsive. But she liked being in this duck’s arms. They were strong and gentle. It seemed like he wanted to press her as much as possible to him, to his heart, but didn’t want to crush her. 

She lifted and turned her head and pressed her beak softly against his.

“With all that anger you usually direct my way, I didn’t think you could be this careful, sourdough.”

Scrooge got flustered at the sound of her voice. He shifted his head a little bit to look into her emerald shining eyes. 

“I’m surprised ye aren’t running away with mah gold.”

She frowned at that. He’d probably never really see her for something other than a thief.

“I know you don’t trust me and I understand that, but I don’t want to steal anything from you anymore.”

Goldie felt his sigh waft over her head. “You can go back to Dawson tomorrow then.”

Goldie stayed quiet. She knew that made sense, but she almost felt upset with him for saying that.

“After everything that happened this month?” She heard herself ask, surprising herself. She didn’t fully know why that mattered. Why she felt like she had to push back at his suggestion.

Scrooge blinked a couple times. “Wha...I...I don’t understand.”

Goldie shut her eyes and leaned closer to him, clutching a handful of his feathers.

Scrooge suddenly felt his chest get damp. Alarmed, he shifted to the side and turned to face her. He clasped his hands over the hand that had been holding on to him.

“What’s wrong, Goldie?”

“Why are you such an infuriating warm sourdough?” She asked, slapping his chest.

Scrooge shifted nervously, unsure how to respond. 

She sighed and looked away. “I don’t think I want to head back to Dawson just yet.”

She turned back to him and stared determined into his eyes. 

“Look, I know I stole from you and I know you think I’m a distraction-”

“Goldie, I-”

“Just listen! You’re trying to find your fortune, and support your family back in Scotland and rebuild your ancestral castle, I get that! I know you care about hard work and being tough and making things square, and you think I’m just some lying, stealing, lazy, dance hall girl. But I want to be part of your world, and not just by being the woman who stole your gold.”

Goldie let out her breath and turned away from him, her face all flushed. She couldn’t believe she’d just said all that. WHAT WAS WRONG WITH HER?

Scrooge’s eyes welled up and he reached out and cupped Goldie’s face, turning her towards him.

“Goldie, you...you’re already more to me than that. I’m so sorry I captured you and took you here and made you work really hard every day. I thought you hated me for that. But...but, I think I love you.”

Goldie smiled and shifted closer, wrapping an arm around him. She rested her forehead against his. 

“Me too, Scroogey”.

[cassieoh]

First & Last Lines Ask Game

Obviously I just answered this for a first lines version, but it got me thinking about first+last pairs so I wanted to look at that and thus

Rules: List the first and last line of your most recent 20 ***completed*** stories (if you have less than 20, just list them all). See if there are any patterns, choose your favorite pair, and tag some of your favorite authors or friends (if you want)!

Note: there are spoilers for the fics in question here so tread carefully if you'd planned to read any of them, but I think it’s really neat to see the lines paired <3

On the Banishment of Peonies

In the early days of the village a house is built on the highest hill.

Months later they spend the longest day of the year introducing Anathema to the witch who haunts the small copse of trees behind their cottage.

Panaceae

The bark is smooth against Aziraphale’s hands in the way that only the very oldest of her kind ever manages; like silk, frozen in a breeze that long ago found itself dispersed to the four corners.

He carefully coats his hand in the remnant of one the oldest beings on the planet and presses it to his final diary entry. (my favs from this set)

Ravel

A lot has been said about what it means to Fall.

Very quietly, a little voice at the back of his mind asks, “What if She didn’t even notice you went? What if she never cared about you the way you cared about the stars? What if you really are nothing more than something meant to squirm at Her Feet?”

my wet heart catches on every thorn

“I’m sorry, I’m afraid I must ask you to repeat yourself.”

He stands, offers Aziraphale his hand, and they leave the townhouse together.

The Dust In Our Tread

It’s time to wake up, dear. (technically it opens with an epigraph, from which the first line is, “Hundreds of thousands of lines of code, seventy-nine pyrotechnic devices, each have to work perfectly.”)

Finding their answers. I see what you mean, love. (again, technically this closes with an epigraph as well, “We made it this far. Now, watch us go.”)

But a Pip to Start

“Please, Nanny, won’t you?”

“Well, it started under an apple tree just like this one….”

A Moment Suspended in Sea Spray

Wind, Crawly had discovered, hurt.

Hope. (i swear to god there are sentences with actual structure in this fic good lord)

His Infinite Variety

Crowley wakes on his back, already aching.

He drifts to sleep with a smile on his face.

Headwind's All We've Got

“I can’t believe they’ve done it.” Crowley’s voice is muffled through the thick scarf around his face.

“Yes. Yes, it is.”

Rootbound

“Don’t you be that way. I know you don’t like new pots, but really, you started it getting all eager about growing.”

He could hear Aziraphale cursing as his daily bread-attempt went up in flames, signaling the end of Crowley’s time in the garden. “Welcome home.”

Empty Spaces

“Are you sure?” Crowley smiles because of course Aziraphale feels the need to check-in.

Aziraphale holds him close, closer, closer and, when he kisses his forehead again, the benediction fills him with light and he wonders if the emptiness was worth it if it means there’s space in him for this.

Yeast and Other Microorganisms

The bubbles rise up, in tiny pockets and lines and pools, gathering together and falling apart and Aziraphale cannot help but watch in wonder because they are so small and so powerful.

The bread from it, baked in three weeks’ time, will be the first loaf Aziraphale doesn’t burn.

On Enumeration

The first gift ever given was shelter.

The 137993165713301st was a vow, breathed to life in the space between them and a kiss given by a demon to an angel.

Lampyris Noctiluca

Are you sure this is a good idea?

I love you too. Now, let’s go welcome Warlock to Tadfield, hm?

Whereas by an Act

Crowley scowled and poked at his thigh, watching in pain-detached disinterest as blood welled up.

He knew nothing more.

Mealy-Mouthed, Dirt-Bellied

There is a moment, before Crowley opens her eyes, when the world doesn’t exist.

It really is shaping up to be a wonderful afternoon.

No Such Thing As Breakeven

When Warlock was small, he and Nanny played a game.

Warlock would make himself be heard.

Cat’s Cross

Okay, so the thing is this, Crowley isn’t what anyone in possession of their full faculties could call inexperienced.

In later years, Warlock will swear he heard Nanny Ashtoreth laugh at something Brother Frances said, but no one who knew the pair will ever believe him.

Error 404: Translation Unavailable (Doctor Who)

Language is a funny thing. A billion species, give or take a few hundred million depending on the year, roamed the cosmos speaking and signing and scenting and projecting upwards of a trillion languages.

“Quite right, too.”

A Glint of Light on Broken Glass

In the end, neither Heaven nor Hell played a part in the Ending of the World despite their best (and worst) efforts.

But, that’s tomorrow.

I feel like it’s hard to pull out a pattern here for me (though I might be too close to them/know too much of the context), but there are definitely a few places where I like the very short ending idea, kind of distilling those last thoughts I think. I also clearly like ending in the middle of a scene which I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or bad thing haha.

also if you decide to read any of these, please check the tags and ratings, some of them are rated E.

As usual, I’m not gonna tag people, but I love seeing other folks answers to this sort of thing so please do it if you’d like!

[geniuslab]

Everything Goes

→ Pairing: Namjoon x reader

→ Genre: Drabble

→ Word Count: 1.5K

→ Summary: A kind stranger joins you on a bench next to the river and shares a sandwich with you.

→ Content Warning: This fic touches on depressive and intrusive thoughts. It is in no way meant to glorify mental illness, but rather be a realistic portrayal of someone suffering from it. Please do not read this if you think there’s even a slight chance this could trigger you. But if you do read this, I hope it can give you a little bit of peace. BTS’ music has always been my place of solace, and mono holds a very special place in my heart. In a way, this is my love letter to it.

The waves lapping against the shore matched up with your breaths, in and out, in and out. It looked like it was going to rain, the dark clouds in the distance mocking your decision that morning not to bring an umbrella with you. Maybe you would melt with the rain into the bench you were sitting on and become a landmark next to the river forever.

This wasn’t the first time you’d spent your morning sitting next to the Han river; it had actually become part of your routine ever since you’d graduated university and had gotten your office job. The sound of the water overlapping itself, always flowing with no permanent destination, was calming to you. Every morning, you’d jab at your phone in the dark until your alarm turned off. With bleary eyes, you’d get dressed for work and grab your bag, debating whether you should risk getting some extra moments of sleep while on the bus. Your fatigue never really went away until you’d see the river, and even then you still always curled up on a bench like a cat about to take a nap.

Today you had your legs crossed beneath you in an almost meditative pose. The earbuds in your ears played no music, but were a great decoy if someone were to try to speak to you.

It’s not that you didn’t like talking to people, although these days your laughs and smiles seemed to be forced more than anything. But each morning, on whatever bench you could snag for your own, you would carve out your own little space next to the river where it was just for you. And in this space, you let your mind wander. It was your allowed time to think all the thoughts you’d push off during the day, a sort of mental purge in the morning before you had to shake everything off and go to work.

Sometimes, you had so many thoughts that they seemed to fight each other like a crowd of people trying to leave a venue all at the same time. Everything would cram so close together and bottleneck at the doors of your mind until a single thought would pop out. They weren’t nice thoughts when you had them. But you’d let the waves of the river guide your breathing, a slow rhythm to focus on while pandemonium reigned in your head.

Other times, you had no thoughts at all. It was as if the doors were locked completely, the hum of the crowd buzzing behind them. You didn’t have the key, so they’d just have to stay. Restless, pushing against the doors, a pressure that would only continue to build. Would the doors break under all of that weight?

Today was one of those days. You dug your nails into your the palms of your hands, waiting for the bite from the shallow cuts. The sound behind those doors was getting louder and harder to ignore. Maybe you should put some music on, if only to drown them out.

“Do you mind if I sit here?” 

You looked up at the voice and blinked. It had come from a man about your age, and he was looking down at you with his eyebrows raised. He noticed the earbuds in your ears and drew in a breath, and started gesturing toward the bench. You tugged the earbuds out and felt your cheeks heat up a little.

“There’s no music. I could hear you, I was just surprised.” You waved your hand toward the empty spot next to you. “You can sit there if you want,” you said, and inched a little over to the side. The bench was plenty big, but as with any stranger, you gave him some distance.

“Thanks.” His smile was so bright, you thought the rain clouds would evaporate. You couldn’t explain it, but he reminded you of a hot cup of tea brewed by your grandmother. Perhaps it was all of the warm, earthy tones and textures he was wearing, his big cozy sweater and brown coat making him look like the human embodiment of a teddy bear. Maybe it was his deep dimples and his soft eyes. Or maybe it was the way he almost dropped his bag when he pulled it over his head, a small exclamation slipping out of his mouth before he caught it. 

But no, you thought, it wasn’t just those things; anyone could have any number of those traits, but they didn’t give off the energy this man did. It was almost as if the air around him worked differently, like he had a bubble around him that emanated...something peaceful. Like a warm hug.

You cleared your throat and scratched your head, turning back to the river. Thankfully, your bench partner didn’t seem to notice that you’d been pondering about him. He’d been busy rifling through his bag in search of something. You questioned what could possibly be left in it now that nearly all of its contents were littered on the sidewalk in front of him. 

“Got it,” he said triumphantly, and waved something in the air before setting it down between the two of you. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw it was a wrapped sub sandwich. But you wouldn’t have even needed to look to know what it was, since the smell of fresh baked bread started wafting over to you. Of course this teddy bear stranger would smell like a warm baguette, you sighed inwardly. 

He bent down to put everything else back in his bag, so you didn’t notice at first that he was talking to you.

“ —know I just met you, but they messed up my order and accidentally made me a sandwich on a whole loaf instead of just half. I’ll just end up throwing away the other half, so would you wanna split it with me? It’s just veggies.” 

You turned to look at the stranger, your eyes wide. The sub was wrapped up with a sticker sealing it, but somehow the smell was only getting stronger.

“I’m not really hungry,” you mumbled, but your stomach growled in betrayal. The stranger lifted his eyebrow.

“I promise I didn’t do anything to it,” he said. “But if you don’t want it that’s okay.”

You shook your head but held your hand out. “I could use some food,” you confessed. You’d left the house without even grabbing a snack. For some reason, when the noise in your head got so loud, you clung to the sharpness of hunger to quiet the sound. But, you had to admit to yourself, that only went so far. In the end, the noise wouldn’t stop and you would just be hungry, tired, and with no energy whatsoever. In fact, it only helped the noise get louder.

The stranger smiled and ripped the paper down the middle, handing over half of the sandwich for you to take. You hadn’t realized just how cold you were until you felt the warmth of the sandwich in your hands. Your cheeks heated up again as you practically cradled it in your arms, savoring the warmth.

“I’m Namjoon, by the way.” 

And so, teddy bear man finally had a name. 

You took a bite of the sub before responding with your name. Namjoon repeated it back to you, as if he needed to try it out himself. He smiled and nodded. “I like your name.”

“Thanks,” you replied sheepishly. “I like yours too.”

The two of you sat in silence for a bit, eating while looking out at the river. Normally the silence next to someone would’ve felt pressing, as if you needed to fill it with something. Meaningless words, small talk, fake smiles and forced laughter. But next to Namjoon, you didn’t feel that pressure at all. 

As you ate, you watched the waves ebb back and forth. Your thoughts dripped out like a leaky faucet, slowly and peacefully pooling until they got heavy enough to drop. This time, they weren’t mean. Just things you noticed around you.

The birds flying over the river, their wings spread out and soaring. 

Drip.

A toddler running past, giggling and pointing at the birds above; their mother running behind them with an exhausted but happy smile on her face. 

Drip.

Thunder rumbling softly in the distance, wind stirring your hair.

Drip.

The noise in your head quieted. The weight on the doors let up, the pressure easing.

“It looks like a storm is coming,” Namjoon remarked when he finished his sandwich, balling up the wrapper in his hand. You’d finished yours as well, and he grabbed both wrappers and tossed them into the trash next to him.

“Yeah, it does,” you replied, your voice only above a whisper. 

Namjoon put the strap of his bag over his head and smiled at you. “But everything goes, right?”

You nodded and smiled back at him. Your cheeks were wet. 

“I’ve gotta head out now, thanks for letting me share your bench.” He gave you a wave and started to walk off. His coat fluttered in the wind like wings.

“Thank you, Namjoon,” you called out.

He turned around and bowed his head with a smile. “See you around!”

You nodded and waved, and then pressed your back into the bench and looked out at the Han river. The thunder echoed louder, a low rumble that seemed to wrap itself around you comfortingly. 

“Everything goes,” you whispered. A rain drop fell on your arm and snaked its way down. 

You grabbed your bag and headed off to work, your steps much lighter than they had been before. 

...

A/N: If you somehow haven’t listened to Namjoon’s UN speech, or if it’s been a while since you last did, please check it out here: [x] 

Listen to mono: [x]

There are people to talk to if the noise gets too loud: https://suicidepreventionlifeline.org/

I love you and BTS loves you. Thanks for reading.

[justlightlysedated]

hope is the greatest of the gifts we'll receive

day one of thirteen: a sort of beauty and the beast, enchanted christmas au,  dedicated to every single person who has ever read or liked or reblogged or rec'ed any of my fics, i love you all more than you will ever know, and i hope that you enjoy this gift from the bottom of my heart

*

The Story So Far:

Alex Manes, son of Duke Jesse Manes, who hasn’t been seen or heard about since he was ten years old, is trapped in the old and abandoned family castle. An enchantment that his dad told him was for his own protection keeps him from crossing the castle gates. 

For ten years, Alex has been on his own, with only the enchanted items inside of the castle and the sporadic visits made by Maria and Liz (who had seeked shelter within the castle walls when they were seventeen and had gotten lost in the woods during one of the coldest nights of the year) to keep him company.

Sporadic because the enchanted castle has a mind of its own and keeps running people off. This leads to rumors that the castle is haunted and that Alex is actually the ghost of someone who died within its walls.

And it’s not exactly like Alex tries really hard to tell people he’s not a ghost. 

He likes the solitude and he has his books and he has the entire castle to keep him company. He wouldn’t change it for anything in the world.

That of course, all changes one late November night during the tenth year with the arrival of Michael Guerin.

Michael had heard about the haunted but most importantly abandoned castle from stories Maria told from behind the bar, but he had figured that they were embellished, at least a little bit.

Michael believed in magic, but he in no way believed in ghosts.

The first night almost makes a believer out of him, but being saved from almost getting mauled to death by the very territorial wolf living in the stables by a very real, very alive, very hot Alex Manes changes his mind entirely.

He makes it his mission to find out exactly what’s going on, which becomes a real easy job once he has the enchanted castle on his side.

With Christmas around the corner, things seem to be going on the right track.

*

Alex doesn’t think that he’s a bad person. 

He doesn’t deserve the reputation that living in a mostly abandoned castle gives him. He tries to do good things despite the fact that everyone thinks that he’s a ghost haunting the castle, not that he’s dissuaded anyone of that notion.

The only person who knows better is also the person who Alex is pretty sure was sent to torment him.

Michael is singing off key, to a Christmas carol while he decorates the hall outside of the library after Alex told him that he doesn’t do Christmas.

It’s Christmas Eve and they are the only two people living in the castle, not to mention the wolf named Buffy that has taken over the stable and the fact that the castle is enchanted and everything within it seems to have made it its goal to make Alex happy, and have decided that Michael is the key to that happiness, since Michael has been able to actually stay for an extended period of time, whereas whenever Maria and Liz come to visit the castle does everything it can to make sure their visits are short.

Alex had thought that that meant it just didn’t like anyone who wasn’t a Manes, but apparently, it just didn’t like Maria and Liz.

It loves Michael however given that Alex can see Michael being followed by a trolley full of Christmas decorations that is swaying in time to Michael’s horrible singing.

Almost like it can hear his thoughts, the trolley stops and turns to him, giving him what Alex thinks is a judgmental look.

Alex closes the door before Michael can turn and see him and leans his forehead against the door, exhaling deeply.

He waits until he hears them move down the hall, before he moves, pushing away from the door and walking back towards his chair and the book he’d been trying to read.

He knows the moment that Michael leaves the first floor to decorate the floor below it because it feels like the entire floor sighs, despondent at his absence.

Alex hunches down in his seat and tries not to sigh in unison. He can feel the chandelier watching him judgmentally but he refuses to accept responsibility for the fact that the castle is enamoured with Michael.

It’s only been a few days since he had stopped Buffy from showing Michael his insides after Alex had inadvertently scared him into running into the stables, but it feels like it’s been an entire lifetime.

Michael has gotten it into his head that Alex stays locked inside of the castle because he’s extremely shy, and Alex doesn’t know how to dissuade him of that notion.

He picks his book up and tries to lose himself in the story, and he almost manages before he smells like something is burning.

He looks up from his book and notices the vent that connects to the kitchen is open, and there is very light smoke coming out of it.

Alex is moving before he can stop himself, since it’s not like the castle will let itself burn just for the sake of matchmaking drama, but before he can tell himself that, he’s ducking into the secret passageway in the library that leads right into the kitchen.

He gets there in time to see Michael closing the oven with his foot as he carries a smoking loaf tin to the sink and then turns on the water.

The air is filled with steam, and Michael sighs, pulling off the oven mitts.

“Alright,” he says turning around to counter where Alex can see the cookbook making an attempt to hide back inside of the cabinet, like it’s attempting to escape Alex’s wrath. “Let’s not tell- Alex!”

He almost shouts his name, and Alex turns to him, raising an eyebrow. 

Michael looks around, a blush working itself across his cheeks, “Sorry, didn’t mean to utterly fail at making a fruitcake and alarm you.”

Alex looks at him thoughtfully for a second, “Why are you trying to make a fruitcake?”

Michael darts a painfully shy look at him, before looking away.

“It’s a Christmas tradition,” he says. “My mom and I used to make one every Christmas Eve, and I just wanted to share it with you.”

Alex feels the entire kitchen cooing at how sweet Michael is being, Alex tries not to follow suit, biting down on his lip to stop the smile from spreading across his face.

Michael’s cheeks go even more red and Alex reaches out to get his attention, fingers brushing against Michael’s arm.

Michael jumps a little and turns to Alex, giving him a sheepish grin.

“First of all,” Alex says and casts a look at the oven out of the corner of his eye. “The stove will never let anything actually burn.”

Michael furrows his brow, “Then why-”

“Second of all,” Alex says talking over him. “Since you and your mom used to make the fruitcake together, wouldn’t it be better if we worked on it together?”

A sweet smile spreads across Michael’s face, and it leaves Alex feeling a little stupefied.

“I would love that,” he says smile widening.

Alex turns away from him and heads to the fridge to take out whatever it is they would need from in there to make a fruitcake.

The fridge opens helpfully, kind of smug, and Alex just glares at it.

Michael lists off everything that they would need from the fridge while he goes into the pantry.

They work in almost complete silence for a few minutes, Michael only speaking to tell Alex what he needed to do.

It’s only when Alex moves the fruit boiling away with some gin and spices for taste from the flame and turns to him to see what else to do, that he sees that Michael has finished mixing the batter, and is just waiting on Alex.

“We have to let them cool down a bit,” Michael says, and Alex nods his head, carefully leaning back against the counter beside the stove.

Michael smiles sweetly at him, and Alex looks away, blinking rapidly, ignoring the way both the stove and the fridge sigh, enamoured.

“What kind of traditions did you have, before all of this?” Michael asks, leaning on the island.

Alex purses his mouth, “I don’t remember much before all of this,” he says with some gentle mocking, that makes Michael rolls his eyes.

“But one thing I do remember is going ice skating with my mom,” he says, and looks around the room, ignoring the sympathy he can feel from every section of the castle.

“Right when the ice was strong enough to hold our weight, she would drag me out of bed at some ungodly hour in the morning, and strap skates on my feet and take me out into the ice.”

He exhales and looks back to Michael who is leaning his head in his hands, just staring at Alex.

Alex swallows hard. “It was the most that I would see her smile during the holidays,” he finishes, and Michael’s stare turns a touch sad, a touch pitiful, and Alex looks away immediately, turning back to the fruits and moving it around with the wooden spoon.

“I think it’s cool enough,” Michael says from right next to him, and Alex jumps a little not expecting him to be so close.

Alex lets Michael mix the fruit into the cake batter and stares at him as he puts the cake into the oven.

Michael closes the oven and turns to Alex.

He bites his lip and grabs Alex’s hand. “Come on.”

Alex lets Michael tug him out of the kitchen and through the hall, and into the front room, pass the staircase, across the downstairs living room, through the music room and out into the back garden, bundling Alex and then himself into their coats.

Alex stops them before Michael can drag them much further, feeling the terror of being so close to the barrier, but exhales carefully, when Michael lets him go and doesn’t do much but smile expectantly at him.

Alex makes a face and casts a look around the back garden.

It looks like a winter wonderland, covered in freshly fallen snow, and even the pond is frozen over.

Alex turns back to Michael.

“I figured,” Michael says, walking over to the small wooden shed where Alex knows he has at least one pair of ice skates. “That as long as we were doing my tradition, we may as well do yours.”

He pulls out the ice skates and Alex looks at the pond carefully and then looks back at Michael who is looking at the skates with trepidation.

“Do you even know how to skate?” He asks, and Michael just rolls his eyes and walks towards the small bench right by the pond.

Alex follows after him.

“What about the cake?” He asks, as Michael sits down and begins to take his boots off.

“It’ll take an hour and a half to bake through,” Michael says, looking up at Alex through the curls that are falling in front of his face. “I set a timer.”

Alex nods his head slowly, and just stares as Michael slowly gets to his feet and moves to the middle of the pond.

He turns in a careful circle and wobbles a little before he spreads his arms out and smiles invitingly at Alex, right before he slips, tries to catch himself and falls back on his butt.

Alex bites down on the laugh that wants to pop out, but Michael starts laughing immediately, giggling as he tries to get back up and fails.

Alex sits on the bench and puts his own skates on, they pinch his toes a little bit, but he manages to get to his feet easily, skating out into the middle of the pond, to help Michael get to his feet.

Michael holds on to him tightly, fingers wrapped in the open collar of Alex’s coat.

Alex catches him by the waist and tries to keep him steady.

“You’ve never done this before, have you?” Alex asks.

Michael gives him a mock glare, “What gave it away?”

Alex laughs, and lifts his hands to Michael’s on his coat and gently pries him away.

Michael makes a low protesting sound, but Alex just smiles at him, and moves back a little, keeping a hold of his hands.

“Come on,” he says, tugging on Michael’s hands and making him slide forward a little. “Just follow me.”

Alex leads Michael around the pond, and once he’s positive that Michael’s got it he lets him go and Michael takes a few steps on his own before he falls again, and the look on his face is so betrayed that Alex can’t help but giggle.

Michael starts laughing as soon as Alex does, and Alex helps him back to his feet.

Alex loses track of time as they continue to skate around the pond, until Michael is able to let go of Alex’s hands and skate by himself.

Alex stops on one side, and watches Michael circle the pond by himself, whooping and putting his hands in the air as he passes by Alex.

Alex wants to tell him that he’s going too fast, but instead just continues to watch Michael with a soft smile on his face, ignoring the way that he can feel the entire castle watching their interaction.

Michael takes a corner too fast, and before Alex can brace himself, Michael is barrelling into him and they both slip and fall back in the snow bank.

Alex lands on his back, and Michael lands on top of him.

They lay there for a single solitary moment before Alex bursts out laughing, Michael following after a few seconds.

Michael laughs into the crook of Alex’s neck, and Alex feels his entire nervous system jumpstart, making him giggle a little helplessly.

The laughter dies out and Alex sees the moment that Michael realizes how close they are pressed together.

Alex watches as the smile and bright eyes are replaced by parted lips and an intent look.

Michael moves in a little bit closer and their noses brush as he tips his head down a little, and Alex gasps, inhaling shakily.

Michael’s eyes dart up to his and Alex doesn’t know exactly how he’s staring at him only that, only that it lights something up in Michael’s eyes and he leans in even closer, eyes falling shut, and Alex can’t look away from him.

Michael moves even closer, and Alex can feel his hot breath on his mouth.

And then the timer goes off, startling the entire kitchen and making Alex jump and knock his forehead into Michael’s hard.

Michael pushes away from him, landing on his back in the snow, groaning as he presses a hand to his forehead, and Alex bites down on his lip.

“Sorry,” he says, and Michael opens his eyes and his cheeks are flushed with embarrassment. “The timer went off in the kitchen, and it kind of startled me.”

Michael looks at him speculatively at that, but doesn’t really say much as they get the skates off and head back to the kitchen.

Alex follows behind Michael at a more sedate space, so that by the time he makes it into the kitchen, Michael already has the cake out and is stirring something in another saucepan on top of the stove.

The entire kitchen smells like Christmas and feels warm, and for the first time in a long time, Alex is looking forward to the new year.

The door to the kitchen closes, pushing him forward a little, and Alex glares at it behind himself before he walks further into the kitchen.

Alex leans against the island in the middle of the kitchen and watches as Michael serves them slices of crumbling slices of hot cake and two mugs of what looks like hot chocolate, humming Christmas carols underneath his breath.

Alex hopes that he doesn’t ruin the image by singing, and the pots in the pot rack above him clang menacingly.

Alex rolls his eyes, and Michael turns to him with a smile.

He sets the cake slices and the mugs of steaming hot chocolate down in front of Alex, and leans on the opposite side of the island.

“It’s still hot,” he says as he pinches a bit of the cake between his fingers and blows on it before putting it into his mouth. “But it’s tradition.”

Alex just shakes his head a little, biting down on a smile as he starts to eat the cake as well.

“Okay,” Michael says once they’re halfway done, and Alex has drunk half of his spiked hot chocolate. “I think, in honor of adding new Christmas traditions to the roster, that we should have a Christmas ball.”

Alex gives Michael a look.

Michael just smiles back winningly.

“Hear me out,” he says, and then launches into a passionate spiel about how celebrations boost morale and how he has the space anyway, “And it’s not like we would have to invite people. We can just celebrate, the two of us, and the entire castle.”

Alex stares at him, at the way he talks with his hands when he gets really excited about something and has the faint thought that he would do anything to make sure that Michael is always happy and excited and never upset.

His eyes widen a little, and Michael stops talking and looks at Alex. “So what do you say?”

Alex is about to tell him that he doesn’t know, but just to tease him a little, when he goes cold all over.

He closes his eyes and concentrates and he can feel someone trying to get in through the gates.

The fact that they use a key to unlock the padlock tells Alex that it could only be one of four people, and not one of them can know about Michael.

“I don’t think so,” Alex says a little harshly, eyes flying open.

He regrets the tone and the way that Michael seems to curl in on himself, eyes going wide and hurt.

“I just wanted-” he starts and Alex cuts him off, grabbing him around the arm and leading him towards the secret passage that leads straight up to his room.

“I think you should retire to your rooms,” he says and pushes him into the passage. 

Michael makes an aggrieved noise in protest, saying Alex’s name, but Alex closes the door in his face, locking it and then willing the entire castle to make sure that he stays in his room.

He feels the castle acquiesce to his request and lets out a relieved breath before he turns around and begins to hide all of the evidence he can find that two people are living in there, before he walks fast to the front hall, and sits down in the chair in the sitting room and book within easy distance.

He takes a deep breath and prepares himself to deal with whoever it is walking towards the castle.

*

Michael doesn’t angrily slide the door close, but he does stomp his feet all the way to his bed.

He drops himself down and lets his face fall into his hands.

He doesn’t know what went wrong exactly. Everything seemed to be going fine, better than fine really, and then out of nowhere, Alex just snapped out of it, like he had been under a spell, and Michael had said something that triggered him to wake up.

Michael exhales roughly and throws himself back on top of his bed.

It’s hard to believe that not even half an hour ago, he almost kissed Alex.

It all felt like it was a dream and Michael had been rudely woken up.

He presses his fingers to his mouth. He can almost feel the press of Alex’s nose, and his breath against his mouth.

Michael makes a low mournful and turns to his side.

He opens his eyes when he gets the overwhelming feeling like someone is watching him, and right there on the side of his bed, is a small black box with a blue bow on top.

He sits up and reaches over and picks the box up.

It feels a little bit heavy, and whatever is inside moves when Michael shakes the box slightly.

He opens the box and finds a note resting on top of a pocket watch.

He picks the note out and sets the box aside, unfolding it carefully.

this pocket watch is enchanted to show you whatever you wish for, just close your eyes and wish with all of your might and then open the watch

There is no name on it, but he knows that it’s from Alex.

He picks the pocket watch out of the box, and looks at the silver surface. It’s inscribed with a rose pattern, and Michael passes his thumb over the imprint before he inhales deeply, closing his eyes and thinking about what it is that he wants to see.

He feels the watch heat up a little in his hands, and then he exhales and looks down, opening the watch.

The clock surface is visible for a second, before it clouds over, and an image becomes clear.

Michael feels his breath catch in his throat as he makes out Max and Isobel looking like they were in the middle of a discussion, and feels a pang of longing in the pit of his stomach.

He hasn’t seen them in just a little over a month, and while it’s not like he doesn’t miss them daily, it’s worse, to see them like this.

He inhales shakily and closes the watch.

He jumps when he hears a door slamming open and he pushes himself off his bed, deciding in that moment to leave. If he hurries, he’ll make it to Max and Isobel before Christmas Eve is even over.

And they at least wouldn’t suddenly go through a mood change, fast enough to give him whiplash.

Michael grabs his bag and goes to the door.

He twists the knob and pulls and the door stays shut tightly.

“Fuck,” he says and pulls harder, but nothing.

“Come on,” he says. “You cannot keep me in here.”

He gets the overwhelming feeling that the door is telling him that of course they can keep him in there.

Michael huffs out a frustrated breath, but he knows that if he doesn’t leave right now, he won’t.

If he talks to Alex just one time, the will to leave the castle will just abandon him.

He doesn’t know what it is about Alex that has him so captivated, but he’s not going to stick around if Alex is going to be like this the entire time.

He turns and walks towards the window to see if he can open it without having to beg.

He’s trying to prop the window opens when he notices the two figures in the dying sunlight.

He quickly recognizes Alex as the one who is struggling, being dragged by the collar of his jacket like a bad puppy. Michael doesn’t recognize the other guy, and they’re too far away for him to make out any features, but Michael realizes immediately why Alex never wants to go outside.

They barely make it pass the hedge walls of the back garden before Alex starts yelling and struggling even more to get away from whoever.

The person lets Alex go, and Alex crawls back immediately to the safety of the hedges, and collapses on his back.

The person walks back towards Alex slowly, and they have the same shade of dark hair that Alex does, and Michael remembers vaguel the portrait of the four brothers that he had found in the basement along with other portraits of the members of the Manes family.

Michael is sure that they say something, but he can’t hear anything.

He knows Alex’s body language well enough by now to realize that he’s being antagonistic, and he’s proved right when Alex spits at the person.

They grab him around the collar of his coat and drag him back over the hedge, and Alex starts to yell again, loud enough that Michael can hear it clearly.

Michael is moving before he realizes, dropping his bag on the floor and running for the door.

The door opens easily, and he doesn’t think about the why as he rushes through the castle halls, wishing for once that Alex didn’t live in an abandoned castle so that he wouldn’t have to be running for a full five minutes before he even makes it out of the back doors.

Michael skids to a stop as Alex’s yells hit him full force and he finally hears the other person talking, asking him questions that Alex couldn’t possibly answer.

Michael reaches the hedge, and searches for something to use to help Alex escape his attacker, but in that moment he hears a loud howl, and then there is Buffy, wrapping her huge jaw full of pointy teeth around the attacker’s arm and pulling him away from Alex.

Alex drops to his knees, and whimpers low in his throat.

Michael goes to him, wrapping fingers in his jacket, and ignoring the way he weakly protests and pulls him closer to the castle.

Alex sighs in relief, and slumps on top of Michael, making them both fall to the snow.

Michael holds on to Alex as tightly as he can, and stares as Buffy chases off the attacker, snapping at his shins as he runs away, leaving behind a trail of blood pouring from the wound on his arm.

Michael doesn’t fully relax at all, trying to get Alex to move and realizes that he’s passed out.

He’s still breathing, and while that’s all well and good, Michael cannot carry his dead weight all by himself.

He’s startled out of his contemplation of what he’s going to do, by Buffy, who huffs, and while Michael freezes, remembering intently the way that she attacked him several days earlier, she just gently bites Alex’s arm, and somehow manages to get him thrown across her back.

She carries Alex inside, and Michael stands up and follows after them, looking back towards where he’d last seen the attacker, but he doesn’t see anything.

Buffy sets Alex down in front of the fireplace, and then whines until Michael is making a fire.

Buffy lies down right in front of it, curving her huge body around Alex, and Michael sits back in one of the armchairs to stare at them.

He wants to do something, but there isn’t anything that he can do.

It doesn’t seem like Alex is hurt. He isn’t bleeding anywhere. And he’s not pale.

It doesn’t take too long for Alex to start waking up. 

Michael stares at him as he buries his face in Buffy’s fur, before blinking his eyes open and staring straight at Michael.

He doesn’t seem surprised to see him there.

“You have to go,” he says in a voice so low that Michael is sure that he misheard him at first.

But Alex just continues to look at him seriously, and Michael starts shaking his head immediately.

“What? No,” he says protesting immediately and Alex pushes himself up to his feet, only stumbling lightly, but catching himself.

He stands tall in front of Michael, illuminated by the fire.

“My family aren’t nice people,” he says, swallowing hard. “And I can take whatever they do to me, but they’ll kill you if they find you here. You have to go.”

Michael blinks rapidly at him, and he wants to protest, but Alex is looking at him desperately, eyes wide and pleading, and Michael really doesn’t want to go.

He inhales carefully, and looks at Alex seriously. “Okay,” he says, and Alex deflates immediately, “But I have one condition.”

Alex looks at him with a furrowed brow.

“I’ll leave after we have the Christmas Ball.”

Alex stares at him, looking slightly stupefied, and then his face twitches into a fond smile that makes Michael’s chest ache.

“Okay,” he says. “We can have your celebration, but you have to go right after.”

Michael nods his head, and he would celebrate the win, if it didn’t feel so hollow.

*

The piano plays a gentle Christmas tune, and Michael drags Alex to the middle of the ballroom, letting Alex take the lead after he almost makes them both trip and fall to the floor.

Alex holds him close, clasping Michael’s left hand with his right, and pressing his left hand low on Michael’s back, while Michael settles his right hand on Alex’s shoulder.

Alex moves them in circles, taking them on a waltz and overcompensating when Michael manages to almost trip them up.

Michael isn’t a dancer by any means of the imagination, but Alex has obviously had training at some point. 

“You’re good at this,” Michael says, when he trips and Alex catches him and turns them expertly.

Alex just hums, and Michael bites down on his lip.

The dinner had been fine, but silent. Even when Michael had thanked him for his gift, Alex had just smiled, that soft smile, the one that told Michael exactly how fond Alex was of him, but he hadn’t said much.

Michael felt anxious, a squirmy feeling in the pit of his stomach, like he was running out of time, but he didn’t know exactly what he needed to do.

Alex spins them around and the song changes to something more soft and less Christmassy.

“I don’t want to go,” Michael blurts out, unable to help himself.

Alex slows their movements to a stop, right in the middle of the room and the piano stops playing, hitting a discordant note.

Alex sighs, “Michael,” he says in a hushed voice.

“I know,” Michael says sighing and pressing in close, dropping his forehead to Alex’s. “I know.”

“You won’t be safe if you stay,” Alex reminds him, voice barely trembling.

And Michael knows, but that doesn’t mean he has to like it.

“What about you?” He asks, letting go of Alex’s hand to wrap his arms around Alex’s shoulders, holding him close.

Alex slides his arms around Michael immediately, “I’ll be fine, I promise.”

Michael doesn’t really believe him, but he doesn’t have much of a choice.

“I’ll come back,” Michael promises as the piano begins to play again and Alex sways them from side to side, his eyes falling shut.

“I know,” Alex whispers, and Michael vows to return back to him, no matter what.

[storm-leviosa-fanfics]

Sticks and Stones (part 1)

So here it is: the first part of the (now slightly out of control) post-Batman 71 fic. I posted it on AO3 last night and the response has been INSANE (thanks to the 7 people who commented and 67 kudos in under 24 hours!! I love you guys!) 

Content/Trigger Warning: child abuse, physical violence (and discussions of)

Chapter 1: Sticks and stones may break my bones

Tim’s jaw hurt. He didn’t want to admit it, didn’t want his mind to work through the pain enough to realise what it meant, but there was a dull, throbbing ache that wouldn’t go away all the same. He poked at it experimentally and it pulsed slightly, emanating from the epicentre all the way down his neck and most of the way up his face. It would bruise, he was sure, and questions would be asked if people (namely reporters) saw him in such a state as Timothy Drake-Wayne. Swinging across the gap between two buildings and rolling to a halt a few blocks from his robin’s nest, he allowed himself a moment to think. Bruce had punched him. He couldn’t explain that away. Bruce, Batman, had punched him right in the face and it hurt. Tiredness crashed over him and he sagged, rocking back on his heels as he sighed. Stopping had been a mistake. He swung across the street, and the next, hopped down a level, slipped in through the open window. Home sweet home.

Looking in the mirror the next morning was unwise. Without Alfred’s expert first-aid and a cold pack to rest on his face, his jaw was an ugly mottled purple. It was clearly fist shaped. He couldn’t go out like this; people would pry and ask questions and make terrible accusations. Perhaps some makeup would cover it but Tim wasn’t fantastic at it despite years of practice and the stakes were too high to risk it. He couldn’t think for definite what about the stakes was so much higher than normal but… well, he didn’t want to read too much into that. Going to meetings like this was out of the question; he’d have to call Lucius. He could do some case work maybe but without the Bat-computer to correlate data it would be more difficult and he didn’t want to go back to the cave yet, didn’t want to face Bruce yet. He glanced at the mirror again. Maybe a cold pack would be a good first step.

He went out in costume that night and avoided everyone. It was only his short patrol, nothing too taxing, but it left him with plenty of time to think. He’d seen Damian from a distance, alone as usual. He rarely saw the brat in Gotham any more: normally he was off with his Titans friends or with Jon Kent in Metropolis doing whatever it was prepubescent boys did on weekends nowadays. Tim tried not to be relieved that Bruce had been nowhere near him. He considered asking if he was ok, but stopped himself. Him and Damian didn’t get on at the best of times and with things how they were he couldn’t be sure he wasn’t tempting fate by lingering too close. He moved on. It didn’t even cross his mind that his and Damian’s patrols rarely met.

Tim woke at ten to someone banging on the door. This was unusual for two reasons: one, no one knew where he lived, and two, no one would want to visit him, anyway. Well, Connor would, probably Bart and Cassie, too, if they were still around. But they were all scattered to the winds, the team broken up and their headquarters empty. Which left him with the question of who the hell was banging on the door so early. Grumbling to himself, he padded to the door, trying to trick himself into looking even vaguely awake, and opened it to a grinning Jason Todd. His grin faded when he saw Tim.

“Wow, B really did a number on you, didn’t he?” He waved a brown paper bag in Tim’s face. “Let me in already; I brought breakfast.”

‘Breakfast’ was a loaf of bread that Jason tore into chunks and smothered with jam and butter using a plastic spoon. Tim had offered him a knife, but he’d refused. Why he had a plastic spoon to hand was anyone’s guess. He offered a chunk to Tim and he nibbled at it self-consciously. Jason had been… unavailable… for a while and even before then, they had never been exactly close. Now he had come knocking with food and sprawled across his sofa without a care. Eventually the food was gone and Jason sat up, leaning closer eagerly.

“So, what did you do to get on the big bad Bat’s bad side?” Tim wanted to believe he was imagining the curiosity gleaming in his eyes, wanted to believe his older brother had simply decided to bring him breakfast and hang out, but it was not to be. He sighed.

“Nothing,” he said, sitting back with forced casualness. “I told him we cared. That’s it. I told him we cared and we understood.”

There was sadness in Jason’s expression, his mouth a grim line, and he looked older than Tim had seen him in a long time.

“He’s not good at feelings is he? He’s never been great at it but even I’ve noticed he’s been bad lately.”

It was true but why did he need to say it so bluntly? Bruce could be a good dad sometimes, could give comfort and help with stuff and be all the dadly things and, sure, maybe he couldn’t deal with emotions very well but everyone has their faults and besides, “it’s communication,” Tim responded, quickly, “he taught us all to communicate through sparring; in case someone was watching. That’s all it is.”

“So what did it mean?” Jason replied and there was a hardness in his gaze that hadn’t been there before.

“I don’t know.”

Tim was thinking. Thinking was a dangerous pastime and there was always the possibility that it would cause an endless downward spiral so Tim didn’t tend to think too deeply about himself unless it was necessary. Now it was. Jason had given him a lot to consider and Tim wasn’t sure he meant to but that was the consequence of asking your brother why your dad had punched him. He’d left a phone number on the table because Jason was dramatic like that but Tim hadn’t called. He’d logged the number, saved it to his computers and his phone and his comms under a super secret file no one, not even Batgirl, could access without his permission. Definitely not Bruce. He’d spent hours trying to decode whatever that punch might have meant, consulted the Robin manual, his own notes, anything to figure it out, and find some kind of meaning. He’d come up empty. He’d wracked his brains trying to remember any other time he’d used it that wasn’t theoretical and found nothing. If it hadn’t been communication, if it hadn’t been their little secret language of blows, then what was it? Had Bruce just gotten angry and swung at him? Was it something Tim did? It must have been. Bruce wouldn’t just punch him for no reason. He’d made him angry, and Tim was very annoying, he knew, and he’d punched him to get him to stop. It was simple. He was safe so long as he did nothing stupid.

Jason came by again, this time with lunch. This time the conversation was lighter. They talked about some novel Tim had seen the movie of one time and Jason had read. Then they laughed over some stupid story about one of Jason’s old exploits as Robin in the scaly pants, the costume being the main joke. Bruce was mentioned but not discussed, not regarding anything recent or serious, anyway. Then Jason lifted his hand. Tim knew, realistically, that it was a pat on the shoulder, a simple affectionate move, but something in his mind saw the hand coming and screamed danger. Tim flinched. Jason immediately put his hand down and Tim apologised, but the damage was done. There was a barrier between them now and he didn’t know how to breach it.

“Tim -” Jason started.

“I’m sorry.” Everything was awkward. Why did Tim make it awkward? Should he apologise again? He should. He opened his mouth.

“I swear, if the next word to escape your mouth is ‘sorry’ I’ll put a bullet in your knee.” He closed his mouth again. “Thank you. You don’t need to apologise, honest. I should apologise to you.” Tim squinted in confusion. “I should have known not to touch you, not after everything.” If this kept up, he’d get stuck permanently staring with abject confusion. Jason looked annoyed. “Parents shouldn’t hit their kids, Timbo, you should know that, what with our night job. And I know you said it was ‘communication’,” Jason’s air-quotes were more than audible, the sarcasm was biting. “But even if it was, and I don’t think it was, that’s a pretty messed up method of ‘communicating’ with your kid.” Tim bit his lip and looked at the floor. His mind was whirling again and it had only been days since the last time he’d had a deep thought about this yet here he was again.

“Would you let someone treat their kids that way when you’re out in your costume?” Tim didn’t know the answer to that either.

Gotham was collapsing, as always, and Tim tried to help but there was only so much he could do when Bruce wouldn’t let anyone in. He left the city, headed back to San Francisco, to Young Justice, and stayed there. His bruises were gone, but they knew something had happened. No one mentioned it; Tim was relieved.

When everything had died down, he snuck back into Gotham. He went on patrol like everything was still normal and he wasn’t avoiding Bruce. He tried to pretend he wasn’t watching Damian when he had time. It was something he’d realised when he was with his team: Damian still lived with Bruce and if Bruce was going mad, Damian would be right in the line of fire. So he watched from a distance, used his skills from before he was Robin when he snuck around after dark to follow his idols, and kept an eye out for anything unusual. Everything seemed ok and Tim wondered whether it really had just been him, just a one off. He’d exaggerated the problem. It was just one punch.

There was another crisis to avert, and Tim came because he was the good Robin who came when Batman called him. In the aftermath, they sat on the rooftop, watching the city. It was nice.

“You’ve been avoiding me.” That was Bruce: always straight to the point.

“I thought you needed time to get your head on straight.” It was true, to an extent. He’d thought maybe Bruce needed time. Mainly it was for Tim, though, time for him to process everything, to think about the hows and whys of everything that had happened. Bruce grunted which wasn’t a disagreement exactly but Tim didn’t want to push his luck so he stayed silent. He saw Bruce’s eyes flicker to his jaw and back to the street. The silence became heavy with things unsaid.

“You should have told me when you left. I was concerned.” There was no emotion in his words but Tim knew them to be true, the way he knew everything Bruce said to be true.

“I assumed you didn’t want to see me. You punched me in the face.” He chuckled darkly but Bruce didn’t join him. He let it die and looked away.

“I always want to know what you’re up to, Tim.” He still hadn’t addressed the elephant in the room. Tim doubted he ever would. That was ok. Bruce cared, he wasn’t angry with Tim. That was all that mattered.

He went back to the cave to log some data. It was fine, nice even; Alfred gave him some cookies and seemed glad someone appreciated them. Damian ignored him, which was normal. Bruce ignored him too, which was less normal but still fine. He left again. As he walked back to his bike, Bruce caught his arm. “You’re not staying?” It seemed an innocent question, but it put Tim on edge for reasons he couldn’t explain. He shook his head. “It’s getting late. Your room is just how you left it.” It wasn’t quite an olive branch, but it was the closest Bruce came to an apology, a ‘you’re still welcome’ broadcast in that very Bruce-like way. Tim smiled, but it felt fake and unsure, like he shouldn’t be glad Bruce still cared about him.

“I know,” he said, “I have some stuff to clear up that can’t wait, though. See you around?” Bruce gave him a very level stare and grunted. Tim supposed that was the best he could hope for.

There was a kid in the building across from Tim who was crying. She was younger than Damian and she’d been crying off and on for hours. Tim hadn’t seen anyone enter or leave the room which meant she was alone. A child left alone in Gotham at night was never a good sign: Tim would know. This wasn’t even the bad part of Gotham, or at least not Crime Alley where no one was safe ever, and he wouldn’t have stopped if it weren’t for the case he’d been working that had led him to the upper east side in pursuit of a gunrunner. Said gunrunner hadn’t left the building he’d holed up in and probably wouldn’t but Tim wanted to be sure. Hence, the stake-out. And the kid was still crying. He glanced across and saw her, curled up beneath the covers, through the crack in her curtains. It had been hours. No one had been to check on her. No one had comforted her. He bit his lip. This was a terrible idea; he should be watching in case his lead left the building; he shouldn’t get distracted. But the kid was alone and Tim had always had a soft spot for lonely kids. He swung across and perched on the window ledge. “Psst,” he hissed, tapping on the glass. “Hey, kid, what’s wrong?” The girl lifted her head but, far from looking excited at the appearance of one of Gotham’s famed vigilantes, horror crossed her face. She stopped crying, but it was a small accomplishment. Tim grinned, hoping it would set her at ease. “Is everything ok? I heard you crying.” She nodded her head frantically but Tim could see her trembling slightly. “I’m not going to hurt you, I promise. Are your parents home?” She nodded again and moved closer to the window.

“My dad’s watching TV, but he’ll be coming soon.” Her voice was barely more than a whisper and Tim struggled to hear it.

“That’s good. Kids shouldn’t be left alone, you know.” The girl scrunched up her face in distaste.

“I can look after myself, honest. It’s better when he’s not here.” Tim was suspicious now. Things were slotting into place. A kid, crying, her dad ignoring her, a preference for being alone over parental contact. It reminded Tim of another boy, a lifetime ago, alone in a house, resolutely believing that was ok.

“I know you can. But that doesn’t mean you should. Your dad should care about you and make sure you’re ok. Does he do that?” There was silence. The kid stared at the floor consideringly and Tim felt something in the pit of his stomach that might have been sympathy. A voice from behind the door had Tim ducking down to the ledge below and the kid scampering back to bed.

“Katie, are you talking to someone?” Footsteps echoed, and he heard the kid, Katie, whimper. “What have I told you about leaving your window open, brat.” There was a murmur in response before a shadow loomed in the window, pulling it closed. “Get back in bed before I make you,” the man growled as he raised his hand threateningly. Tim had had enough. Waiting for the man to leave, he pulled up all the info he could find. Bert Summers, 43 years old, no previous criminal convictions, wife died three years previously from unexplained medical issues. Katie Summers, aged 8, attended school several blocks away. She was good at art and never got in trouble. It had been a few minutes, so he popped back up to check on her.

“Hey, Katie,” he whispered, “I have to go now, but I’ll come back tomorrow. It’s all going to be ok. I promise.” He stuck a camera and audio bug under the window screen before he left.

He went back the next night and there was a bruise on Katie’s cheek like a handprint. She refused to speak to him or move from her bed but she turned her head in his direction and he saw she’d been crying. He rang CPS and she ended up with a foster family about five blocks away. He checked. She seemed happier, but she still flinched away from raised voices and was too anxious to do as she was told. She would get better, Tim knew, but it would take time and for the time being he was happy to leave her be. He scheduled to check back in on her in a month, then got busy with other matters.

The Joker broke out of Arkham and went after Robin because he’s an insane psychopath. Robin didn’t help matters, going after him alone and getting kidnapped. Tim rescued him and it was Damian’s greatest shame. Damian ignored that all of them had been kidnapped by the Joker at least once, or that if Tim hadn’t rescued him he would have died, or that Tim had defied Bruce’s express orders not to get involved. They went back to the cave and Tim tried to ignore Bruce shouting as he tapped away at a report. It didn’t work. He sensed rather than felt Damian storm off to the showers and Bruce returned to his normal position of hovering behind him. There was anger emanating from him and Tim tensed. He wasn’t afraid of Bruce, not really, just… aware of his temper. He’d known the consequences of his actions before he left and had done it anyway. Damian was safe. He didn’t regret anything. Now he just had to make Bruce see it that way.

“I know, I went behind your back,” he began, “but Damian is safe now and that’s what matters, right? So why don’t we just call it a night?” Bruce didn’t make a sound and Tim was suddenly aware of what a colossal mistake he’d made.

“Damian might be safe but you still disobeyed my direct orders and there have to be consequences for that, you know that, Tim.” He sounded angry. There was a coldness to his voice that Tim had learned to interpret over the years as a flimsy mask for his inner fury. Why Bruce was so angry he didn’t know. There was no real reason to be and besides…

“Everything turned out alright in the end. No one died and Joker’s back in Arkham where he belongs. Your plan to hold back would have gotten Robin killed and you know it.” When had he stood up? He was facing Bruce and he’d been shouting and Bruce was as stoic and expressionless as a brick wall.

“Sit down, Tim.” He gathered all his resolve. This was an issue he intended to push as far as he could, for Damian’s sake.

“No, Bruce. I don’t get it! Do you not trust me or something? My plan worked out fine and yeah it wasn’t your plan but your’s wouldn’t have worked anyway and if I hadn’t stepped in Damian would have died. Don’t you get that? Your pride could have killed your son and I know that doesn’t mean much to you anymore because we’ve all died at least once but-” He stopped. Raised a hand to his face. Sat down, hard.

Bruce was glaring at him and he’d never seen so much anger before. His hand was still raised and as Tim struggled back up to his feet, Bruce swung it back in preparation to take another swing. He backed away but Bruce followed.

“You have no idea what it’s like, to lose someone, to lose a son!” Bruce’s voice cracked and Tim knew he’d lost this battle. Bruce’s facade of composure had broken and now he was dangerous. Tim had been stupid and he was paying for it.

“I know, Bruce. More than anyone else, I know,” he cried, desperately, and it was true but Bruce wouldn’t see it.

“You know nothing!”

Blackness.

[aspiratinganxiety]

If you're still taking requests could u do the lounging around on a lazy day w the batboys hc thank u ilysm:)

I love you so much too and oh my GOD. This prompt has been waiting here forever. Like, literally forever. I am so sorry. Please forgive my overlooking this gem for so long. 

I hope that it’s worth the wait…

Tag List: @nxttime​, @possiblyelven​​, @thepuckishrogue​, @jinkies-its-a-writer, @queeniepearls​ (If you want to be tagged, let me know! For more fics, check out my masterlist.)

Dick:

-Dick Grayson isn’t really one for being lazy all day long. He can do a lazy morning filled with cuddling or a lazy afternoon comprised of catching up on a few episodes of that series you’ve been trying to get him to watch for the last 6 months. He’s even happy to tuck in for an evening of cheesy movies and junk food too, on an occasional basis. 

-Largely though, he’s got too much energy to just stay cooped up for the entirety of a day.

-This means that lazy time spent basking in Dick’s company is a rarity. When you both have the day off, he likes to go and do things! He plans dates and day trips. He looks up expos and events, conventions and kitschy get-togethers where he can finally meet all of your friends and show off his incredible people skills. 

-There are a million places he’d love to show you, and a whole 24 hours of uninterrupted quality time should be used bonding over shared activities; not… inactivities. 

-In his opinion. 

-You disagree.

-When the Richard is sufficiently socialized and gallivanted, he makes for an excellent domestic partner. He can chill with the best of them, amiable to most endeavors of cuddling, television watching, or video gaming. 

-Ultimately, your requests for lounging around the home take place either before or after his scheduled outings. Therefore, because you’re so willing to spend your time doing what he thinks will be fun, he’s 100% happy to return the favor and weigh in on any dramatic reality TV series or sappy romantic films.

-If it makes you happy and doesn’t make him jittery or cross, he’s down to give you your way.

Jason:

-Listen. I argue that Jason, in spite of being so bold and charismatic, is largely introverted. After a hard mission or a bad fight with family, all he wants is to come home and curl up in his bed with a good book and some quality solitude.

-When the opportunity to spend the day doing nothing but hanging out with you and a well worn pair or sweatpants presents itself, he jumps for it. 

-Like. 

-This is his favorite.

-After the first few trial runs, all the kinks get worked out and the two of you find a good rhythm of relaxed inactivity. 

-You don’t even talk to one another all that much! You just get it. He just gets it. You throw on something mindless like an instrumental playlist or a series you’ve both seen a million times and read. Sometimes you watch something he’s seen before while he catches up on mild casework. Other times you nap on the couch with your head on his shoulder, and he wonders how he got so lucky and frets about not screwing things up. 

-Whatever it is that the two of you end up doing on your quiet days together, Jason decompresses. He breaths, and sleeps, and eats all of the ways he’s supposed to. He holds you close, and he’s grateful for your patience and willingness to have such calm and unobtrusive expectations.

Tim:

-At first, you were pretty sure that Tim never went a single day without working.

-Like, to the tune of Taylor Swift, Never-Ever-Ever

-It was only after you’d discovered his alter ego and been initiated into more mild outskirts data mining operations of vigilantism that he actually allowed himself to be completely open about his schedule and confirm your suspicions about his utter lack of self-care. 

-Boy howdy, did you ever-ever-ever put a stop to that.

-Your boyfriend is a logical man. It was simple enough to rope him into a verbal agreement about post-case recuperation that you then brandished against him as though it were a legally binding contract.

-After a big case gets cleared out, no matter what else is on the board, you text the team to let them know they’re on their own for tech support and snuggle in for a good day of nerdy self-indulgence that sets your heartstrings thrumming in time with the narrative fascinations you share along with Tim.

-Hours of Star Trek, Hannibal, Game of Thrones, or any other delectable series that happens to be buzzing at the time of your 24 hour vacation gets binged with content abandon.

-You snuggle on the couch, limbs flopped listlessly over one another under mountains of plush throw blankets and pillows that have been pillaged from your bedroom and commandeered for the betterment of the couch.

-Lazy days with Tim are full on. No cooking. No cleaning. 

-Just binge-watching good shows, making dorky jokes, and loving up on your overworked boyfriend. 

Damian:

-The concept of lazing about was also just… not really a thing here.

-Meditation? Yeah. Low activity reconnaissance? Sure thing. Enjoying a few moments of peace to gather oneself before or after engaging in taxing mental/social/emotional activities? Granted.

-Spending an entire day loafing around the house without even bothering to get dressed properly? 

-Are you fucking serious?

-This boi straight up rejected your pleas for a low-key day of blissful nothingness until his femur was shattered. No joke. 100%. 

-It took serious damage to his structural integrity to get your boyfriend to spend 5+ hours on the couch with you. 

-It was then that Damian realized the true joy of being lazy with a partner. There’s no stress. No obligation. No pressure to perform or characterize his behavior beyond noncommittal commentary when so inspired or pressed. He could just be there, with you, collecting himself and enjoying his home and pets as he so chooses with little to no judgement. 

-The deep relaxation and trust that he fostered for you during the time you spent caring for him during his recovery changed his opinion of allowing you to stay overnight without a measured schedule. 

-Without meaning to, he sort of fell into preferring for you to be in his space, if not his direct proximity, during all of his time off. 

-He’ll be in the study brushing up on a Slavic dialect that’s gotten rusty in the back of his mind, and you’ll be tucked into a fleece robe on the couch with Titus flipping through a magazine or watching a movie. And it’s nice.

-Sometimes he’ll be doing maintenance on his vast collection of weapons and antiques, and you’ll be right beside him watching with rapt attention, veritably simmering with questions about each and every unique piece. He is especially fond of these instances.

-When you and Damian share a quiet day together, he likes to cultivate something. Whether it’s in your knowledge of antiquities or his vocabulary of slang and pop-culture references, keeping you near while he gets some much needed relaxation always leaves him feeling more accomplished than lazy.       

[devilmaydream]

Dante x f!Reader / Faceless f!OC

Hello little ones!  I’m back, and I’m not alone! Read our announcement here!

❤️ Title: Tonight ❤️ Pairing: Dante x f!Reader / Faceless f!OC ❤️ Summary: Dante’s lover is determined to enjoy one last night with him before they die.  ❤️ Warning: NSFW, EXPLICIT SEX!

A/N: This is probably going to be a long A/N since it’s our first fic on this page, and a new style of writing for us, so if you don’t want to read all that just skip to the next bolded line!

This is the first fic ever to be posted on the page, and I’m so damn excited and nervous about that! This one is really special to me, because it was co-written with my partner, and our new mod, Will, who got a tumblr account specifically for this very occasion!

We were experimenting with writing styles, and he ended up with this really interesting idea of a faceless oc. We gave it a shot and it ended up really cool! Click here to read Will’s little blurb about it.

If you don’t choose to read that, basically all there is to know is that even though the fic uses “she” instead of “you”, the “oc” has no name, face, features, etc, save for that it’s female, and therefore I marked it as an x reader. I am actually quite curious as to how this holds up in comparison to normal x readers, if the format is preferable, etc.

I also want to briefly thank a friend of mine, @daemongal for not only encouraging me to start writing again, but also encouraging me to post my work! Honestly, if not for her, I would’ve never done this, and may not have even started writing again, so thank you! Please go give her some love if you haven’t already! She’s a wonderful writer!  💜

And, without further ado, the fic itself! More below the cut!

Tomorrow, they would likely die, but tonight, they would eat like kings. She prepared a hand-kneaded loaf of buttered garlic bread, she cooked the roast beef in homemade gravy, letting it simmer for half the day in a large pot with carrots, baby red potatoes, and shallots. A full three course meal paired with a special wine she had helped brew nearly a century ago. She had even made her mother’s famous sugar tarts with strawberry filling, dipped in chocolate cream and sprinkles.

Tonight, they will all sit around her kitchen table, drinking away their troubles as they talk and laugh and tell stories. She will stand up and thank them all for being such good friends, and they will click their glasses together and say something silly on the count of three. Dante will look at her like she is everything, and she will look back at him and smile, knowing that if she dies tomorrow, at least she will die with the man she loves.

Tonight, when everyone says their goodbyes, she will lead him up the staircase as slowly as possible, enjoying the weight of his large hand enveloping hers with all its warmth and strength. And when they make it to the bedroom they never even got to enjoy, she will kiss him deeply and without fear, and ask him to sit down on that red suede couch Nico bought them as a house warming gift just four months ago.

Tonight, he will spread his legs and lean back, tossing his arm over the back of the couch with that telltale smirk on his lips as he watches her. She will unzip her dress slowly, letting it fall off her shoulders and down her hips to reveal that pretty set of red lingerie she bought just for him last valentines day but never got to wear.

Tonight, when he beckons her over, she will walk over to him, standing between his legs and letting him touch her wherever he pleases. When he goes to take off her stockings, she will stop him, because she remembers that dream he had when they first got together of him fucking her in those same heels with those same stockings.

Tonight, she will moan openly at the sight of his erection pushing eagerly against his slacks, thick and hard and throbbing just for her. She will tug at his hair as he nuzzles his face into the wet spot on her panties, and grind herself against his mouth as he sucks her clit through the fabric. She will whimper at the sound of him unbuckling, and watch without shame as pulls out his cock and strokes himself.

Tonight she will grind down on his hand as he pulls off her panties, and freely tremble when he twists his digits inside her. When he rolls his tongue around the sensitive little bundle of nerves above her entrance, she will come moaning his name as loudly as she had ever wanted to.

Tonight, she will undress him piece by piece, kissing every inch of his skin, burning every blemish and scar and birthmark into her mind. She will let go of all her fears and insecurities and smile as she reveals her body to his greedy hands. She will be unafraid to leave the lights on, using her hands to express what her words had always failed to.

Tonight, she will look him in the eye and tell him all the things she had been too nervous to say before. She will tell him that she loves the way he says her name when he wants her, the way he takes his time in making sure she’s ready for him, the way he moans when she comes around his fingers like it’s the most amazing thing he’s ever felt.

Tonight she will tell him just how she loves the way his voice catches when she straddles him, the way he holds onto her hips and asks her if she’s okay like he needs to confirm she wants him before he lets her go any further. How she loves the way he holds onto her hips with those, strong, kind hands as she uses hers to guide his cock to her entrance, keeping her up off his lap so that she can’t take in too much of him too quickly.

Tonight she will not blush when he asks her to look at him. She will stare into his eyes just as he had always asked of her as he slowly eases her down onto his length. She will stroke his arms as they tremble in restraint, and whisper to him about how much she loves him for being so gentle, for taking the time to make it painless, for holding her still as he fucks into her inch by inch with short, slow thrusts, until she seated on his lap and gloriously full.

Tonight, she will smile at him as she lifts his hands off her hips, kissing each palm in thanks for all the years they have protected and pleasured her, before dragging them down to cup her breasts. She will hold onto his wrists as they make love and savor every moan she draws from his mouth.

Tonight, she will come when she says her name, just like she always does, back arching and pupils blowing wide with his name on her lips. She will lean down to kiss him as he strokes her back, taking over and rocking his hips up against hers as she rides out the end of her orgasm.

Tonight, when he asks her if she want to take a break, she will say no. She will not stop until he is satiated. She will press her hand over his heart, content in knowing that it’s beating just as hard as hers, that it’s beating for her, and roll her hips against his until he is thrusting up and gripping onto her sides like she is the only thing anchoring him to this world.

Tonight, when he sits up to fuck her better, she will cling to him, moaning every time he slams her down onto his cock, whispering every dirty thought that crosses her mind. She will tell him how she loves the way his mouth opens up soundlessly as she slides down onto his cock, the way he stares up at her in awe as she rides him.

Tonight, when he feels her clenching around him again, nails biting into his shoulders, she will see that part of him that he had managed to subdue for so long starting to peek out from underneath his skin, and she won’t be afraid of it. She will look him in the eye and without hesitation, ask him to let go of that restraint just once.

Tonight, he will let the devil half of him take over. He will flip her onto her back, holding her legs apart to accommodate him, carefully controlling his transformation as to not break her. She will scream for him as his changes color beneath her hands, growing rigid and hot to the touch. She will hold onto him as he gives her time to adjust to the strange new texture of his cock, gasping as it slowly expands, trying to fill every inch of her.

Tonight, she will keep him close. When he asks if she is okay, she will cup his face in her hands and stare into his eyes just like she did when he looked like the Dante she went to bed with every night. She will smile and tell him that she loves this part of him just as much as the other parts, and boldly wrap her legs around his hips, pulling him deeper.

Tonight, she will watch his every move, mesmerized by the fact that something so sinister looking could make her feel so good. Tonight, when he looks down between them, she will look, too, watching in amazement as this new, impressively thick cock slides in and out of her, the sight enough to make her come again.

Tonight, as he kisses her back to recovery, she will ask him to make love to her like the devil he is, and he will oblige with something she has never felt before-- something passionate and rough, dancing on the precipice of pain and pleasure. She will cling to him as he leans down to kiss her, elongated tongue twisting around hers.

Tonight, she will scream into his mouth as he thrusts into her, harder and faster and deeper with each encouragement, until she is soaking and he is pounding into her recklessly, the wet sounds of their joining a backdrop to the tangled moans and shouts falling from both of their mouths.

Tonight, she will be the one to ask him to look at her when she feels him start to come undone. She will hold his face in her hands and whisper how she loves him, praising him with her eyes as she clenches around him. She will moan with him as he slams into her, her legs pulled tightly around his waist to keep him close as he comes.

Tonight, she will say his name as she reaches her peak for the fourth time. She will hold her legs tight around him like a vice as they start to tremble, their mouths hanging open to exchange air as he fills her up, pumping his seed deep inside her. She will gasp when he rocks his hips against hers, pulling out less than an inch before sliding in again as though he was trying paint her insides and make sure her body would never forget this feeling.

Tonight, she won’t let him go. She will kiss him passionately and tangle her fingers in his hair, whimpers sweetly as he throbs inside her at the attention. She will loop her legs around his calves and roll on top of him before he can turn back, ensuring that his cock will stay right where she wanted it -- buried inside her-- as she snuggles up atop his chest.

Tonight, she will press her heart to his, breathing slow and deep against his ear until he relaxes. She will smile as the rough heat beneath her hands returns to smooth skin, peppering his shoulder and neck with kisses. When she offers to clean them up and he asks her to stay, she will oblige, letting his arms wrap around her waist, keeping their hips together even as he starts to soften inside her, and his release starts to drip out from where they were joined.

Tonight, she will stay right here, listening to his breathing, feeling his heart beat, chest rising and falling beneath hers. Tonight, when he says that he loves her, she will say it back fearlessly, and hold tightly onto him as they drift off together.

Tomorrow, they will likely die, but tonight, all that exists is the two of them, and nothing else in the world matters.

[pan1c1ng]

Wrong Time

Pairing: Nine x Reader (sort of), Mentions of Rose and Thirteen

Plot: After Rose Tyler declined the offer of traveling in space with the Doctor, he went and moved on with his life. Traveling through time and space, saving people and well, being the Doctor. Until he lands back on Earth and runs into someone from his very distant future; someone he hasn’t met.....yet. What if this person helped change his mind about traveling alone without his bad wolf girl?

Word Count: 1,754 (yikes)

Authors Note: This is based on a theory that I very much fell in love with. I can't find the original post in which said theory is discussed, but if you know then please let me know so I can tag it! I thought it was a really good idea for a fic. This is my first Doctor Who fic, so please let me know if I should continue on with writing them! Also, Nine just needs more love. Thanks for reading!

Gif Credit: @spaceandtimegifs

     The Doctor you had been traveling with was very different than the one that you had just run into. She had mentioned before that she had been a man before and that her species could change every cell in their body when they died. So all that you understood. But it was still weird calling this man ‘The Doctor’. The only similarity you noticed was the northern accent and the eyes as old as the universe. This man had large ears and a very oversized leather coat. But, you had to admit, he was very handsome. You ended up in the wrong year with your Doctor and then somehow ended up alone as the TARDIS dematerialized with the Time Lady still inside. But he didn't know any of that, you thought it would be better if he didn’t know who you were, yet.

     So there you were the two of you. Running down a street in London, hand in hand in immediate danger. For you, this was just another day in your life. Running with the Doctor, trying to save every person that you can. But for this Doctor, he was very suspicious of how well you were taking all of this. Any other stranger would be asking him all these questions about who he was and why they were running towards danger instead of calling the police and ‘Doctor Who??’. But not you. You were so calm, and that concerned him. Reaching the unfamiliar yet familiar looking TARDIS, you already expected what others wouldn't on the first meeting with this spaceman. Though the interior was a bit of a shock at first. “Yes, I can already tell what you’re gonna say. It’s bigger on the-” “-inside. Yea I get that bit.” You cut the Doctor off mid-sentence as you looked around in awe at the old interior. “I like it. I don't know, seems a bit more you.” You spun around the console room as you examined the new terrain. Looking back at the man, he leaned his hands against the main console and looked at you with a cocked eyebrow. Pulling the lever to make his ship sail. “Yea, I think so too. Fantastic isn’t it?” This cheeky smile appeared on his face. Almost like a switch of moods. In a way, it scared you how easy it was for him to do that. The Doctor you knew seemed to always be in this cheery mood. You looked at him with so much wonder. He was so brand new to you. Definitely not the same person. Gender aside and all that. His whole demeanor was different. 

     Hours had passed and victory was all yours. The creature had been sent back to its home planet under the command that it should never return to the Earth. You and the Doctor sat in a small cafe at six o’clock in the morning, the sun rising over the city. The golden hour. You both had warm cups of coffee sitting in front of you with a small loaf of banana nut bread for the two of you share. The Doctor shared stories with you about his past adventures. Some of which you had heard loads of times. Others were like brand new symphonies to your ears. But the ones you had heard, there were added details. The story was the same but it sounded a bit more honest with this voice. This different demeanor of your best friend. Silence fell between the two of you before the Doctor spoke up. “Travel with me.” The Doctor said. You looked up from your cup of coffee with little expression. His eyes looked so tired and so sad, but also had a small glimmer of hope and yearning. You smiled, thinking of the first time your Doctor had said those words to you. How nervous and scared you were, yet excited and curious. You felt those things now, but you somehow also felt a feeling of sadness. “I haven’t told you who I am, Doctor. You know my name of course, but who I am is far more important.” His mood seemed to change.

     “I can’t travel with you. Well, not this you. I’m someone from your future, Doctor. Very distant future. Basic story; something bad is going to happen to the planet, you come along, you meet me, we save the day, we start traveling together.” He sits back in his chair, arms crossed and eyebrow cocked. “So, how are you here. If you’re supposed to be with....me? Have I abandoned you?” The Doctor’s voice turned to a higher pitch with his last question. “No..Yes...I really don’t know. The TARDIS landed here, I stepped out first and then it dematerialized. You were still inside, but I know you, Doctor. You’ll be back soon. I’m not stuck here. You always come back.” He looked sad in a way. “If I don’t, then will you travel with me. You’re brilliant. I can’t wait all that time. I don’t want to.” He said. Your breath hitched. He didn’t seem confident in your Doctor’s reappearance, and that made you fearful. But you contemplated it. How else would you get home? “If that were the case then yes. In that situation, if you didn't return, then I would travel with you.” He smiled slightly, but it wasn’t a happy smile of relief or gratitude. His smile showed sadness and regret. 

     A couple of minutes had passed by. This new version of your best friend was growing on you, and a small part of you didn’t want to leave him. He seemed lonely as if he was waiting on the edge of his seat for someone to come along. Your Doctor didn’t tell you a lot about her past, but you did ask once in a while if there was anyone else. Anyone other than you, which of course there was, but the look on her face when she talked about them was not the reactions you were expecting. It was mostly an overall look of sadness and regret. But she came around to you one day. You knew about Donna, the one who forgot. You knew about Martha, the one who left. And Rose. How she talked about Rose was something that stuck with you. You didn’t know why. But it did prompt you to ask your next question. “Where’s Rose?” The Doctor stopped sipping his drink and looked up at you. He looked confused. “How do you know about Rose?” “You talk about her sometimes. You talked about her when you were....you.” He paused again, putting his cup down and crossing his arms against his chest.

     “She said no. She was one of the few that did. I can’t go and change someone's mind like that now can I?” He talked about the situation like it was no big deal. But you knew another side of that relationship. You knew the Doctor loved that wonderful blonde woman. “Yes, you can. You have changed my mind so many times. So who’s to say that you can’t change hers?” His eyes narrowed. He wasn’t buying the plead to go back to her. “Doctor, the way you talk about her is nothing to push aside-” “Rose Tyler was just a girl that I met-” “Not to you!” Interrupting each other was something you both did well. “That girl made you happy, Doctor. Being with her made you feel something. You never said it in so many words, but I’m quite good at reading people. It’s one of my many talents.” You sat back in the booth, picking up your coffee mug and taking a sip. “I haven’t felt anything in a very long time, Y/N. How is a shop girl going to change that?” He shakes his head and looks out the window of the diner. The streets were starting to fill with people and cabs now. His focus was drawn back to you as you grabbed one of his hands. “Why don’t you go and find out. You’ve got a time machine. Use it.”

     An hour or so passed. You had gotten a call from your Doctor saying that she was on her way to you. Now you were at a meeting place with your new and old friend. “So, no chance of staying with me?” He looked down at you with a small smirk plastered across his face. You rubbed his shoulder gently, a reassuring gesture. “There are so many people out there who come before me. Good people that you haven’t met yet and some that you already have. The day when we cross paths again will come. And I promise we’ll go on so many adventures together. But until then, you know what to do.” In a way, you were sad to leave him. You had grown quite fond of this man. The faint sound of the TARDIS could be heard down the street. You turned towards the direction of the machine. He gripped your free hand, the way a child does with his mother when he doesn’t want her to leave. You turned back around and gave him a hug. “Thank you for being my Doctor.” You closed your eyes as the words made your throat tighten with emotion. You let go of each other. Making your way back to the TARDIS, his voice called out for you. “Y/N!” You stopped and turned to face him. “That man you’re with. Whoever he is. Just tell me, is he happy? Finally? Am I ever going to be happy?” He didn’t sound so sure of himself. But you smiled. “Oh Doctor, my Doctor. Believe me, she is absolutely...Fantastic.” His expression changed from unsure to surprised to happy in a matter of seconds. You turned back towards the ship, pulling the spare key out of your pocket. Reaching the door, you glanced back one more time to see him, but he was gone. You smiled to yourself once more before disappearing into the time machine.

     The Doctor made his way back to his TARDIS. Once inside, he pulled levers, pressed buttons and set a date and time for a destination. 2005. Seconds after Rose Tyler declined his offer. The TARDIS landed within a minute or two of travel. The nineteen-year-old girl turned back around to the sound of the ship that she had just become so familiar with. The Doctor poked his head outside the door. “Oh, did I mention it also travels in time.”

[javistg]

A Warm Welcome

Last year I wrote a couple of fics that take place after the war. 

In Why I Went to the Woods, Katniss refuses to stay home by the fire, and she takes off to the cabin by the lake. By the time she sees Peeta, a whole year has gone by.

In Chapter 27, Gale goes back to D12 to try to help with Katniss’s recovery. He doesn’t help much. In the end, he leaves right before Peeta comes round with the primroses.

As I was writing these stories, I kept thinking about another possibility. What if Peeta was already there when Katniss got home? What would be different about her recovery if she had him there right from the start?

Well, this is what I came up with. Hope you enjoy.

A Warm Welcome

It’s night when Katniss and Haymitch land on the green of the Victors’ Village. Half of the houses have lights in the windows, including Haymitch’s and hers... and Peeta’s.

Katniss stops in front of Peeta's house to watch the warm light spilling from the windows and bleeding out on to the snow.

She's still trying to figure out whether she's surprised by his presence or not when she remembers that she doesn't want to care. She doesn’t have the energy or the strength to think about Peeta, or Gale, or her mother, or... anyone else. But that doesn't stop her lips from turning into a ghost of a smile as she walks on.

An empty house greets her.

The windows are closed and the floors are clean. There’s a fire crackling in the kitchen. She sits in the rocker before it, clutching her mother’s letter to her chest.

“Well, see you tomorrow,” says Haymitch.

“I doubt it,” Katniss whispers as the clinking of his bag of liquor bottles fades away.

She wraps an old shawl over her body and watches the flames dancing in the hearth.

She must fall asleep at some point because the sound of approaching footsteps jolts her awake a while later.

She turns towards the noise and finds Peeta standing next to her.

She looks up, slowly taking him in. She hasn’t seen him in weeks --or maybe months, she doesn’t really know-- and she’s surprised by how good he looks.

He’s still too thin. His hair is too short, and he’s all covered in scars –just like her—but his eyes are bright and clear; the fogginess that clouded them before is gone.

The small smile on his lips touches her heart. The loaf of freshly baked bread tucked under his arm brings tears to her eyes.

Turning away from him, Katniss covers her face with her hands and cries.

Bitter tears drench her clothes and stain her cheeks as her pain, her sorrow, her despair break free from her chest.

A broken wail that starts somewhere deep inside of her rings in her ears. She tries to stop it, to force it back down, but it turns into a round of uncontrollable sobs that escape her parted lips choking her and making her cough.

Her chest burns, so she uncovers her face and gasps for air as if she’s drowning.

That’s when it happens.

Without a word, Peeta kneels next to her and with firm, steady movements begins to rub her back. It's a small gesture, but it's intimate, soothing, and Katniss quickly loses herself in the comfort it brings.

She closes her eyes and, for a moment, she’s back in the cave of their first Game.

She’s hungry and scared, but she’s not alone. Peeta is with her; guiding her, protecting her, helping her fight the terrifying memories that come to life in the dark.

As she looks back into his teary eyes, a flicker of hope lights within her.

The life she knew and the world she loved are gone. She’s just the ghost of the person she once was, but she's still alive and maybe --just maybe-- she’ll be alright.

DAY 1

She stays downstairs.

She’s weak and tired and there’s nothing for her on the second floor. So, she sits by the fire and lets the day go by.

She doesn't shower or change her clothes. But she greets Sae when she comes in to fix her breakfast and eats her meals sitting next to Peeta on the kitchen table.

He doesn't say much. Other than telling her he was sorry when he comforted her the previous night he’s barely said anything at all.

A part of her wonders if that’s the way he is now –quiet and reserved-- or if he’s just giving her space. Again, she reminds herself that she’s decided not to care.

The rabbit stew Sae makes smells good, but she’s not really hungry. So, she pushes her food around and reaches out for a second slice of bread.

Peeta doesn’t push her to eat or to do anything else. But the small smile he gives her when she almost empties her bowl makes her feel worthy of a prize.

When night falls, she moves into the sitting room and sleeps on the couch.

DAY 5

Katniss walks Peeta to the front door after dinner. It’s the first time she’s left the back of the house since she arrived.

As they walk past the study, a box with her name scrawled on it catches her eye. Intrigued, she walks into the room. Peeta follows.

“Could you?” she asks pointing to the box on the floor.

Peeta lifts the box onto the desk and, together, they go through its contents.

Her father’s jacket is the first thing to come out. She immediately puts it on.

Carefully, Peeta lifts the arrows and hands them to her. Katniss wraps her arms around them, hugging them like they’re an old friend.

“What else is there?” she asks.

Peeta reaches in and begins moving things around. There’s a small smile on his lips as he enumerates what he finds, “A wedding photo, your family’s plant book, a spile, and--,”

The smile’s gone.

Katniss’s eyebrows knit together. “What is it?”

“This,” he says pulling out the golden locket he gave her during the Quarter Quell.

She reaches for it, wrapping her hand around it as if to hide it from view. She wishes it were something else, like the pearl, maybe. Something that reminded her of Peeta’s kindness and warmth --of the way he used to smile whenever he saw her-- not of his resolve to die for her.

She can’t bring herself to look at it, to open it and find Prim, Gale, and her mother smiling back at her. She’s not ready yet, perhaps she’ll never be. So, she walks over to the table and slips the locket back into the box.  

“Would you mind taking all this stuff up to my room before you go?” she asks.

Peeta nods. The smile is back on his lips.

He carries the box up the stairs while Katniss follows close behind.

When they reach her room, Peeta moves to the side to let her through first.

It's the first time either of them has set foot in the room since they got back and they’re both struck by how cold and impersonal it is.

They’ve just made it through the door when they see it. President Snow’s rose.

Peeta freezes. His shoulders tense and his knuckles turn white as he tightens his hold on the box.

Katniss immediately snaps into action. After propping her arrows against the closest wall, she grabs the vase with the flowers and leaves the room. “Come with me,” she instructs as she walks down the stairs.

A moment later, she hears the dull thud of the box hitting the floor and the sound of Peeta's loud footsteps trailing after her.

Katniss rushes to the fireplace and waits until Peeta has reached her side. She pulls the flowers out of the vase and tosses them into the fire.

They watch, mesmerized, as President’s Snow perfect rose is swallowed by flames.

DAY 10

It’s the middle of the afternoon when Peeta walks in to find her siting on the living room couch.

He knows she’s been more active since they found the box with her things, but she hasn’t showered since she got back. Her braid is a greasy mess.

Crossing his arms over his chest to show he means business, he says, “I think it's time you showered.”

She scowls. “I don't think so.”

“You want to keep on wearing those Capitol clothes?”

Her eyes widen, and he knows he’s hit a nerve, but she still won’t budge. Feigning indifference, she says, “Maybe I do.”

Yes, Katniss Everdeen can be as stubborn as a mule, but he can be stubborn too.

Setting his jaw, Peeta removes the blanket she's covered herself with and lifts her, dropping her over his shoulder.

“Hey!” she cries out, wiggling as she tries to resist.

But it's no use, Peeta's stronger than she is and, as soon as he tightens his hold on her hips, she knows she’s doomed.

He carries her up the stairs, feeling his heart sink with every step. She weighs next to nothing in his arms.

He reaches her room, walks into the bathroom and sets her inside her shower.

Katniss stands in the middle of the stall, glowering at him.

He stands at the stall’s door blocking her escape. “Wanna hand me those clothes?” he asks.

“No!”

“Fine.” Reaching behind her, he turns the water on.

“Hey!” she screams as cold water falls over her. She moves to step forward, but he mirrors her movement.

He’s practically inside the shower now. Her eyes darken. She knows she’s trapped.

With an annoyed huff, Katniss wraps her arms around herself and waits for the water to warm up.

They’ve been standing there for a couple of minutes and the overall she wears is soaked. Peeta motions for her to hand it over. Once again, she refuses.

Peeta shakes his head. He doesn’t want to do this, but he knows she needs it –he knows she’ll feel better once she’s wearing her own clothes-- so, keeping his eyes trained on her face, he unbuttons the overall and pushes it down her shoulders. The wet fabric hits the shower floor.

Pursing her lips together, Katniss looks into his eyes. They’re blue, worried, determined.

She’s beginning to wonder how far this boy is willing to go to keep her safe and to bring her back to life when she starts to feel the warm droplets dancing over her skin. Without her overall, they run freely down her arms and legs, caressing her, soothing her in an almost magical way.

As she begins to relax, she starts to feel her camisole and underwear sticking to her body.

She knows that if Peeta were to look down he would be able to see every dip, bump, and scar on her skin. But he doesn't --his eyes never leave her face-- and she's surprised by the fact that she wouldn't mind it if he did.

Keeping her eyes on his she says, “I don't mind if you see me.”

He smiles at her with a shyness she hasn’t seen in him in a long time. “I do. I’m not here to sneak a peek, Katniss.”

“Why are you here, then?”

“I’m here to make sure you do something different today.” Covering his eyes, he leans down, grabs her wet overall from the floor, and leaves closing the shower door behind him.

It takes her a while to wash up but, when she’s done, she actually feels better.

After, she sits in front of her mirror and begins untangling her hair. She's tired, her locks are uneven and brittle. It annoys her.

For the first time in months, she takes a long look at her reflection. She’s thinner than she used to be, and her scars are still very noticeable. But she’s surprised to discover that she’s not a complete wreck. There are still signs of life in her; there's the color in her cheeks –which are slightly flushed from her hot shower—and the light in her eyes –which aren’t completely dull.

“Peeta!” she calls out. “Could you come here a second?”

“Sure, I’ll be right up!”

A moment later, he steps into the room and takes her in. His eyes light up when he realizes she’s wearing her old hunting clothes.

“Would you cut my hair?” she asks.

“Your… why?”

“Cause it's a mess,” she says with a scowl. “It's all burned and uneven.” She runs her fingers through the brittle strands to prove her point. “I can't even braid it properly.”

Peeta nods. He’s never done something like that before, but how hard can it be, right?  “Ok. Where are your scissors?”

She looks at him as he works, carefully separating locks of wet hair and evening them out. He's so focused that he looks like he's not even there.

In the comfortable silence, her mind flies to another time, another life really, when she saw him like that.

“I’ve been thinking about my family's plant book,” she says.

He looks up from his work. His eyes find hers in the mirror. “Yeah?”

“Mm-hmm, there are a few entries that I’d like to add. Do you think you could help me someday?”

Peeta smiles, it's sweet and pure and it warms her entire being. “Sure,” he says, “whenever you want.”

Day 12

She's already sitting for breakfast when Peeta shows up at her place one morning.

He doesn't remove his coat. Instead, he opens the visitors’ closet and pulls out Katniss's winter jacket and shoes.

“Let's go for a walk,” he says, handing Katniss her clothes.

She wants to refuse, to tell him that the world is cold and that she’s not ready to leave the comfort of her warm fire, but she doesn’t. She recognizes the determination in his eyes and knows there’s nothing she can do to stop him.

With a loud huff, she sits on the chair in the foyer and puts on her shoes. He’s holding her jacket open for her when she stands back up.

Grumbling under her breath, she slips her arms into the sleeves and wraps the flaps over her body, quickly fastening the buttons before dropping her arms to her sides.

She turns back to look at him and catches him trying not to smile. She rolls her eyes. “Fine, let's go.”

As they step out of the house Peeta holds his hand out for her. Although she’s still weak and a bit clumsy, she’s already strong enough to take a short walk without help, but she doesn’t refuse him. Quietly, she slips her hand into his.

The warm, fuzzy feeling that spreads through her chest when Peeta entwines their fingers together makes her smile.

DAY 15

“Hold still,” Katniss whispers as she finishes cleaning Buttercup’s wounds.

When Peeta shows up a while later, Prim’s cat is taking a nap on the kitchen counter.

“How you doing, buddy?” he asks as he scratches the mangy cat’s chin.

The surly fur ball purrs making Katniss's heart melt a little. There’s something about the moment that makes her feel like she’s part of a family once more.

Later, Peeta takes her out for a walk.

Spring is in the air. The sky is brighter and there are dandelions everywhere. She’s thinking about collecting some and making a salad when they reach the edge of the forest.

“I found these the other day,” Peeta says, pointing to a group of scraggly bushes. “I thought maybe we could plant them by the side of the house, you know? For her.”

Katniss’s eyes fill with tears at the sight of the primroses. She looks up and nods, overwhelmed by his thoughtfulness, his kindness, his devotion.

“Thank you,” she says.

“For what?”

“For coming back.” She reaches up to cup his cheek. “For being here with me, through this, through everything. Always.”

Peeta leans into her touch and closes his eyes. When he speaks his voice is as sweet and soothing as warm honey. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be, Katniss. No one else I’d rather be with.”

It’s like being touched by the sun after a cold, long winter. The warmth that spreads through her being makes her feel alive again; makes her feel whole. She’s terrified of it, this feeling that lifts her up, just as she always was, but she’s not strong or foolish enough to fight it anymore.

“You know, Peeta, you have no competition, here or anywhere. You never did,” she says standing on the tips of her toes and pressing her forehead to his.

He looks up, his eyes are filled with wonder, relief, hope. Trapped in his gaze, Katniss leans in and kisses him softly on the lips.

Pulling back, she says, “I think it’s time I called my mother.”

Peeta’s eyebrows shoot up. It’s a drastic change of topic, but he sees it as a good sign. “Why don’t you do that now? I can take care of this and go to your house later.”

She nods, her small hand wraps around the fabric of his jacket in a tight fist. “And, will you give me Dr. Aurelius’ phone number? I think I should call him too.”

He covers her hand with his and feels her relax under his touch. “Sure, I’ll do that as soon as I get home. Maybe you can even call him tonight. If you want.”

“I want,” she tells him because it’s true. After all the months of darkness and despair, she suddenly wants. She wants to breathe, she wants to smile, she wants to live; and she knows that she can’t do it alone. She has Peeta, he has already helped her through her darkest days, but she also needs to take care of him. She needs to do more.

She's still terrified, of love and loss, of pain and want, but the thought of wilting away in a corner scares her even more.

As she hurries back home she knows she's ready to start facing her future. She’s ready to hope.