#ladies and mistakes i love him dearly i do i mean it

[st-juliet]

Ready Now

Fandom: Henry Cavill as Sherlock in Enola Holmes

Summary: Sherlock comforts the reader in heartbreak…and opens a door for a happier future.

Content: A very light 18+ just to be safe, for implied sex.

Notes: Angst to comfort to fluff. A bit of a shameless self-insert to improve my spirits, and perhaps yours, too, if you are in need. Title from the Dodie song which I love so dearly!

“Miss—?”

“Oh, no.”

The words fall from your lips before you can stop them, and tears prick at your eyes. The last thing you could ever want at this moment are the keen eyes of the Great Detective turned upon you in the most painful moment of your life…but such are the perils of open windows and the garden shared by his flat and yours.

You deduce at once that he has heard through your open window every word that passed betwixt you and the man to whom you were, until this hour past, betrothed: Sherlock Holmes knows you have been forsworn, with another already chosen to assume your place by the side of the man who had promised you his heart and his life. This embarrassment coupled with your anguish is almost too much to bear, and you almost flee back into the house, but his voice stills you.

“Your compassion does you credit,” he says, carefully keeping his eyes upon the flower he was inspecting, where a little bee hums contentedly, wholly unconcerned with human troubles.

“My…compassion?”

Sherlock is quiet, but insistent: “That heartless young man has callously thrown away his greatest chance at happiness, and you—who are best positioned to inform him of it—instead wish him well. You preserve his reputation when his own actions have sullied it, and defend a character he could perhaps aspire to, though it is you yourself who possess it. Such is your compassion, to care for his welfare when he has disregarded yours. When he has treated you so…”

He trails off, turning away from the garden to look at you in earnest. You can see him auditioning adverbs with which to end his sentence, in varying degrees of delicacy: indifferently, unkindly, cruelly.

“I don’t know what you mean,” you protest feebly, before he can settle on a word.

“Forgive me, my lady, for contradicting your charity,” he scoffs. “But I have seen and heard too much which has roused my suspicion and my unmitigated anger. Your effective disappearance from society following your engagement; your hesitance—indeed, your fear—to even speak to another man, apprehensive of his jealousy; the want of preparation or celebration of your impending marriage…and that his published columns in the papers are so unmistakably your ideas, even your words, filtered weakly through his pen.” A tear slips from your eye and down your cheek.

“You know?”

His gruff tone and his steely expression soften at once, melting into a gentle murmur and a warm gaze as he draws very near to you.

“I have told no one else. But if you chose to reveal him as a fraud, I would second you at once,” he avows, and then he smiles softly. “And if you chose to empty his plagiarizing inkwell over his head, I would likewise hold your gloves.”

“I need not do that, I think,” you smile back, even as more tears run down your face, the efforts of preserving your composure slipping away at this matchless kindness. Sherlock draws his handkerchief from his pocket and presses it into your hand delicately, giving a light squeeze to your fingertips before drawing back.

“Then I repeat my sentiment of your compassion. And I never meant to peer into your private business. But my incontestable busybody of a brain could not mistake your suffering, or its cause.”

“You are very good, sir, to think of me at all.”

“Not half so good as you. No—no modesty from you tonight; I will not accept it, knowing how you have already humbled yourself to salvage the honor of a replete cad. But I cannot say I am not something pacified, knowing that you are free of him.”

“I did not wish to be free of him,” you confess, dabbing at your eyes as the subtle scent of his tobacco and cologne, infused into the cloth of the handkerchief, washes over you—a comforting, intimate sensation even in the midst of your grief. “I wished to love him. But he does not love me.”

Sherlock seems to wage a small war within himself before he speaks again.

“I cannot possibly imagine your pain, nor would I ever instruct you not to feel it, fully and completely, till you have made your way through. But you must know that there are men whose hearts are not made of stone. Men who would be moved, and infinitely so, by the tenderness and care he neglected, who would give any earthly riches or heavenly rewards for the chance to return your love tenfold.” He inclines his head to brush an impossibly soft, tender kiss to your forehead, so light and so loving that you think at once you must be dreaming. “Please, my dear, sweet lady—whenever you are ready, remember this.”

With a slight bow, he returns to his home, but the memory of his touch and his kindness lingers, a sweet reprieve from your sorrow even on this darkest of nights.

~ Some Months Later ~

“Sherlock?”

“My dear Miss—“

“I am ready now.”

With his words and his deeds, with his body and his soul, he drives from your mind every less than loving touch you have suffered, every thoughtless word or neglectful silence, entreating you to forget past pain and trust your own heart again. You coax from him a lightness and laughter, hold him through the depths of his sorrow in defeat, and ardently welcome him home victorious. You build and rebuild. You learn and grow. Together.

And when he kisses you for the first time.

When you walk arm in arm through the world, through the change of seasons.

When he kneels and asks for your hand, and sings to the world of his good fortune and the grace of your future.

When he brings you to bed with a fierce and tender passion, each surrendered wholly to the other in perfect harmony.

When the sight of your newborn child cradled in your arms causes your strong, steady husband to weep at this miracle made from your love…

…you are home.

If you prefer wordy smut, you might enjoy my masterlist. New Utmost Merit chapters to come soon, as soon as I stop moping. <3 Thank you for reading!

[im-someone-i-guess]

bunnies and blood

a jurdan fic by ryhanna

word count: 1540

There was a stark line between fashionably atrocious and offensively atrocious when one wore feathers. After another tiring day spent listening to their subject's business, Cardan was dragged off to see a burrow of bunnies by his beloved wife.

prompt: "They skive off a day hearing subjects' business. Then they play with rabbits instead.." requested by seillean

There was a stark line between fashionably atrocious and offensively atrocious when one wore feathers. This faerie wasn’t just toe-ing it, she had already ventured far past it, unbeknownst of the degree of ugliness she was at. Cardan had always thought his love of feathers were already unbearable, these thoughts fueled by Jude’s frown every time Cardan brought out an article of clothing that even had the mere suggestion of a feather. But this was just…absurd.

Dozens of feathers had been tucked into this faerie’s dark hair, in varying shades of blue. Then, there were hundreds of tiny ones lining the neckline of her bodice, and thousands making up her full skirt. Subtly, Cardan risked a look at his wife, eager to see her scandalised expression. And indeed she did not disappoint. Her features were twisted in a familiar scowl, one of disbelief at this lady’s gall at showing up in such a dress.

“Your Majesties,” the faerie greeted, lowering her lithe figure into a low bow. At the movement, the feathers rustled, a distracting sight. “I am Lady Dowager Van Mal, of the newly raised Land of Insmoor.”

Cardan raised an eyebrow, waiting. Though it was incredibly hard to keep a straight face, with the breeze ruffling the countless feathers, Cardan managed it. The winds were no doubt Jude’s work, some distraction as the faerie droned on and on about how her neighbour kept holding revels and parties that ruined her shrubberies. She had improved her magic, immensely, the one blessing from her weekly lessons with some tutor from Insweal.

“Very well, we will review your problem though I must ask if you may have thought of other alternatives?” Jude asked, leaning forward from her throne. Her eyelashes were brushing against her cheeks, a subtle sign that she was completely uninterested. She liked being high queen, Cardan knew, but this was an aspect of ruling that she much disliked. This was Cardan’s forte, he was supposed to be the one more involved right now.

He could feel Jude’s insistent glances as she resumed advising the lady dowager. “Perhaps the two of you may find a compromise, negotiate the terms with your neighbour to… reduce the revels.”

“But Your Majesty, I do not want those revels reduced, I want them diminished, ended, gone!” As she spoke her hysterical outburst, the feathers in her hair swayed even more, hypnotising Cardan in a trance. “My king, what do you say?” And those feathers turned to him, as with the faerie’s expectant eyes.

Only then did Cardan drag himself to the present, to the lady of a thousand feathers, he had already forgotten her name. “I agree with my wife, as should you, Lady…?” he drew out the word in a bored drawl. If she would not respect Jude, then Cardan wouldn’t respect her either, not that she deserved any ounce of it.

“Lady Dowager Van Mal,” she said. Though now her fire had died down, replaced by the dawning realisation that she had made a mistake, one that would cost her dearly. Swiftly, she turned back to Jude, dropping to her knees as she kissed the ground. “Apologies, my queen, I did not mean to yell, or dismiss your suggestion or-”

“Hush,” Jude told her, barely concealing her rolled eyes. “You have wasted enough of our time. Yours is a problem that should be settled with your neighbour. Spare us your endless tirade and your overbearing feathery presence.”

Cardan sensed she had been twirling the last sentence within her head, and Cardan wholeheartedly agreed. He did not think he could ever view feathers without envisioning this faerie and her discontent frown. The guards hoisted her up from the ground and Cardan saw, with an amused grin, that the lady was looking hopefully at Cardan, as if he would swoop in and become her saving grace.

She was decidedly wrong, no one dared to question High Queen Jude’s word, not even the High King, especially the High King. So when Jude suddenly stood up when the guard asked if they would be receiving more petitioners, or prisoners or visitors, none questioned her when she announced that they would be done for the day. Nor did a single faerie interrupt her when she took Cardan’s hand, yanked him off his seat and started dragging him to no one knows where.

“Where are we going?” Cardan finally asked. They had just passed the gates, the sentinels letting them pass without a word. Sometimes he wondered if they would even let Jude kill him in cold blood and simply resume going on with their day. “Jude, where are you bringing us?”

“Bomb tells me there is colony of bunnies hidden within a burrow nearby, I want to see them,” she replied, a jovial tone to each step as she brought them further from the leering palace. Cardan was glad to see them leaving, he was long tired of their days spent within the walls, constantly watched, constantly accompanied. They were for his safety, his knights told him but Cardan only felt further on guard by their presence, there was the need to pretend. The only security he would ever need was Jude being there by his side, wafting out an intimidating air that warded off anyone unwanted.

“It’s such a shame that your dress has to be destroyed in this pursuit though,” Cardan said, mournfully looking at her gown. The delicate saffron was stained by mud and grass, dragging across the ground with each step Jude took. Though Jude was anything but vain, Cardan took up that role, determined to be vain enough to sustain the both of them. So he took every stain, tear and wrinkle as a personal offence, being vocal enough to eventually annoy Jude into changing her clothes into something pristine. But he supposed this time he would just have to…swallow it.

“Your boots are equally dirty, and from the smell, I suspect you’ve stepped on some pile of turd,” Jude replied coldly. She was far ahead now, eyes casted down, combing the grass for the bunnies she hoped to find. “Maybe you should’ve summoned a ragwort pony.”

“I would’ve if only you’d given me at least a moment’s notice, I could’ve-” Cardan almost tripped over Jude’s skirts, almost tumbling them both down the hill. “What in Queen Mab’s name are you-”

Jude shushed him, jabbing a sharp elbow in his stomach without so much as a glance back. She had drawn Nightfell, he noticed, the sword glinting in the daylight. Cardan hadn’t even noticed the sun rise, how had he missed the whole of dawn?

“There,” she whispered, pointing at a suspicious monster, barely visible within the cluster of trees. Cardan saw the faint profile of horns, and a large body.

Though frequently pestered by Jude, and then some more by Roach to brandish himself with blades of all sorts as they have, Cardan had paid them no heed. Most times, Jude would strap a holstered knife to his thigh anyway, disguising the act by a scandalous kiss. This time, she had not, and if they made it out alive, which they most likely would, Cardan would have to endure hours of Jude’s lecture about the importance of always being armed.

And in his need for her to simply stop and use that mouth for other more pleasant things, Cardan would do something idiotic and agree. Jude would never let him live it down, he would be reminded of it every hour, every minute, every second of the day.

“You wait here and if it comes at you…” Jude conjured a dagger from a hidden sheath, shoving it into Cardan’s hand. He was about to protest but the monster had already launched himself from the shadows, just as Jude ran to meet it in the middle. With seven unending smooth arcs of her sword, Jude slayed the beast, spraying its blood and guts all over the green grass, colouring it scarlet. She was magnificent, Cardan decided, though this was already established long ago.

Ensuring the beast was really dead, Cardan then ran down the hill, grinning at Jude, passing her her knife. She looked unfazed by the gore, smiling pleasantly as she took the blade and resumed her search.

~

It was only an hour later did they find the burrow, inconspicuously marked by dandelions, a signature of Bomb’s. Jude grinned with glee when they peeked from their hole, curiously glancing up at Jude as they sniffed her awaiting hand. Then, it completely jumped at Jude, followed by another, then another, then another.

“Their mother had been attacked by some fox, Bomb said. So now she tends to them when she has time, bringing them all sorts of foods she sneaks from the palace.” By now, the monster’s blood had long dried, slowly flaking off of Jude’s dress. It was a blessing, to not have them stain the bunnies’ snow-white fur. “Oh, this is a welcome reprieve from the events at court,” Jude sighed.

And glancing up at his wife, her dress stained with mud and her hair dusted with blood, with tiny bunnies hopping around her, demanding her attention, Cardan could only agree. “Indeed, this is a welcome reprieve.”

[tsuraiwrites]

✨weekly(ish) fic roundup✨

another round of fics I found especially good reads, as @little--abyss​ and I were talking about secondary curation recently! please check these out and leave a comment and kudos for the wonderful authors.

Assassin’s Creed

The White Aster of Masyaf - alaïr ibn-la’ahad/desmond miles, nsfw complete

And, instead of dying after using the device back in the Grand Temple, Desmond now had first-row seat in the tragic play that was Altaïr’s life in the Levantine Brotherhood.

Oh. And he gets to play the part of the doomed younger brother of Malik Al-Sayf, Kadar Al-Sayf.

BNHA

Oracle - midoriya izuku/shinsou hitoshi wip

Midoriya Izuku always wanted to have a quirk, to be a hero, to make a change.

Until he realizes he did do all that once, a lifetime ago, and paid for it with his life.

(In which Izuku's quirk allows him to remember his past life and it becomes his driving force to become a hero and mend the mistakes of the people from his past.)

Death Note

no man is worth dying for - gen wip with self-insert amane misa

Would there be consequences? Yes. Was it selfish? Perhaps. Did she care? No, because she refuses to lay there motionlessly and let herself die for a man whose God-complex got out of control.

Amane Misa or not, voices in her head or not, she was doing this reincarnation thing her way.

Dragon Age

FIRE IN HER MOUTH - female inquisitor/cassandra pentaghast wip

Former Ostwick Mage Olivia comes from a life of disturbing secrets and devastating loss. Once the daughter of an up-and-coming Orlesian house, her abilities led to a life of ostracized irrelevance to both her nation and her family. Years later, tensions in Thedas between Mages and Andrastian Orders have come to a head. The perfect setting, it seems, for a corrupted Tevinter Magister to stake his claim of chaos. By virtue of rotten luck Olivia finds herself thrust in his path, imbuing her with magic beyond her imagination. Now, she must learn to balance her own hunger for justice with those of the world's most mistreated, as leader of the reborn Inquisition.

Ithelan - male lavellan/omc, oc-insert wip

A struggling college student finds himself dropped in a dungeon in the thick of all things Inquisition with no memory of how he got there.  Now he has pointed ears and too many tattoos and maybe has the chance to help.  He has no idea what he's doing but he loves Thedas, and maybe Thedas will love him too.

Lyrium Addled - anders/fenris soulbond wip

After a desperate healing attempt goes haywire, Anders and Fenris try to get to the bottom of what caused the chaotic reaction. Between the phantom pains from non-existent wounds, and the sudden concern for each other's safety, they find themselves with an abundance of questions and nobody to answer them.

Not Another Dragon Age FanFic (The Lone Wolf Cries) - male lavellan/solas wip

Kieran finds himself suddenly transported to Thedas, and vows to keep a close eye on the Dread Wolf to stop him from betraying them once again.

As he finds out, a 'close eye' unfortunately means actually being close - and it doesn't help that the game's timeline is changing, either.

Over the Sea to the Clouds Above - female cousland-as-inquisitor/leliana wip, an absolute delight to read so far

Because she loved her sister dearly, Niamh set aside her own happiness, watching from afar as Leliana fell for another. However, with Corypheus threatening to cast ruin upon the world, is it possible for her to reveal the truth of her own heart before it’s too late?

Sang a Lady Radiant - solas/ofc, male trevelyan/ofc, oc-insert wip

Ollie doesn't know why she ended up in Thedas, but she wants it to be a better world when she leaves, one way or another. She just has to figure out how to work around Solas and the Inquisition itself.

The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Ellana Lavellan, Mage. - solas/ofc, oc-insert wip

Sweat, blood, and tears. Literally years of preparation, and here she was, at the foot of the mountain path that led up to Haven, while an explosion shook the world and tore a hole into the Beyond.

"Fenedhis."

MCU

Adjustments - bucky barnes/tony stark wip

After the battle at the Triskelion, the Winter Soldier is taken into Avenger's custody and brought to New York.  Slowly the extent to which HYDRA had broken the soldier is revealed. Bucky Barnes' recovery will be long and arduous the outcome of which is uncertain.

With his parent's murderer living under his roof, Tony Stark faces an entirely different problem, one he intents to solve his way.

By fixing the broken soldier.

Naruto

bees don't buzz during an eclipse - gen wip

The thing is, the summoning jutsu isn’t actually that hard.

And little academy student Sakura, young and clanless and desperate to prove the world that she’s bigger than her forehead, is also friends with Ino, clan heir with connections to the Nara. She watches Shikaku summon a deer once, and an idea turns in her brain.

It’s not her fault nobody told her the technique wasn’t for pre-genin.

for the caged bird sings of freedom - gen wip

Hyuuga Hinata dies four years after the Fourth Shinobi War, to protect her Hokage.

She wakes up ten years in the past, the day before Graduation, the day before the spar that would seal her fate as the family disappointment and Hanabi's as the next Clan Head.

She makes changes.

One Piece

so much like stars - law/luffy/zoro complete

Stargazing and snow, festivals and dreams, and the quiet change in the dynamic between Law, Luffy, and Zoro during a few cold nights on the way to Zou.

The Sandman

a lucky break(out) - dream/hob gadling, complete

Hob acquires a familiar ruby at an antiquities sale. Said ruby summons something else into his home as well.

[cartoonfangirl1218]

A Walk in the Garden

Here I am again with another birthday fic for a friend inspired by her favorite Jane Austen book, Emma. So many will recognize the scene and the dialogue is all Austen’s. However, the internal monologue is mine. It was such fun getting all regency England with the fops and flibberjibbets. Hope you all enjoy!

Lady Isabel grimaced, lightly kicking the stone ahead of her. 

How foolish she had been the previous months. All her matchmaking plans gone awry. She had driven her good friend Naomi away from a decent fisherman like Marzel, to be matched with the fopish Duke Alonso. 

Who had been engaged the whole time! Yet entertained flirtations with her. Isabel blushed at the memory of her fluttery heart, flattered by Alonso’s attentions though she had been meaning to help her friend. 

What was worse, she had thought she had great observation skills yet she didn’t piece the clues together. The trips out of town, the way Lady Valentinaalways flounced out of the room in disapproval when he talked with her. Lady Isabel had actually believed his story that he went all the way to Paraiso for a haircut! 

Okay, that one was not her fault. It was Duke Alonso, that would have been a legitimate reason for him.

And that was not even getting into her other failed matchmaking attempts. Javier pretending to enjoy Naomi’s sailing demonstration just to have the chance to kiss her! Ugh! What an odious young man. 

Truly, Sir Gabriel had been right. She was no matchmaker. Even her first “success” of her sister and Mateo was truly not of her doing. Though she had supported their union wholeheartedly. 

She was no matchmaker and a horrible judge of character. All the potential matches had been flops, she had been taken in by rakes, and was so consumed with her visions of catulpalting Naomi to becoming “someone special” she completely neglected the girl’s actual wishes and who she really was. 

Lady Isabel heaved a large sigh, inhaling the faint fragrance of roses and gardenias in the royal gardens but even the lovely scent did not encourage her mood as it would have any other day. 

A familiar voice however. . . 

“Lady Isabel?” 

Isabel whirled around, self-consciously putting a stray bang back behind her again. 

Oh Sir Gabriel, the person she was most comfortable with yet the last man she wanted to see at the moment. 

He must think her so foolish especially the way she behaved toward Lady Yolanda. Yes, the woman was a headache to bear, constantly flipperjibbeting and gossipy, but it had been rude on her part. 

Her words, “Ah but there may be a difficulty. Pardon me- but you will be limited as to a tone of geniality- you will be limited in your tone“ echoed in her head and she dearly hope the blush wasn’t spreading across her cheeks right now. She had said what everyone was thinking, a fatal mistake. 

But Gabe did not seem to hold any ill regard towards her like he had at the picinic. Instead he smiled at her, the soft smile that gave him crinkles around his eyes, making him boyish and mature all at once. 

“Yes, Sir Gabriel?” Embarrassment from the admonishment before prevented her from speaking familiarly. 

“May- May I speak to you a moment?”

“Yes, you may, what else do you want to talk to me about?” Isabel nodded, cursing how formal she sounded and the bitterness but felt unable to stop the awkwardness. She wanted so much to return to his good graces, but her pride was hurt. She was taking her anger at herself and throwing it at him. 

Isabel looked down to the ground, “I’m sorry. I stopped you most ungraciously and gave you pain. If you have any wish to speak to me openly about anything you might have in contemplation, as your friend, I cannot refuse you.” 

She took a chance to look up as she said friend, hoping against hope for a smile and not a rebuke at the title. 

And there it was. 

She felt her knees weaken with relief at the sight. Him, the handsome land officer siling so warmly at her. It was a welcome after feeling outcasted among her own kind for her meddlesome actions and more troublesome tongue. 

Isabel resolved to keep quiet until Gabe had finished. Whatever else he had to say, he had the right to. He had been warning her from the beginning not to meddle. That she was looking past things that were right in front of her. She saw that now he was right, her pride had blinded her to so many things this social season. 

“Indeed as your old friend, I will listen to whatever it is you wish to tell me.” 

Gabe strode closer, the sun gleaming on the military shined buttons of his blue uniform, highlighting his taunt biceps. But what really served to show his maturity was the steady look of poise and capability that he exuded. He looked every inch the captain he was. 

“Isabel, about our friendship. . . You wish for it to remain the same as it has always been. But I cannot desire that-” 

“But why!” Isabel cried, all her comforting feelings flying away at once. It was like a fatal blow to the heart. The world that had been festively stroon with the dazzling spring sun grew dim. 

Surely, her recent actions have not drove him so far away from her! She could not bear it if it was true. 

Gabe had always been there for her. Ever since she was little, just seen as Elena’s little sister, he had been the one who had been the nicest to her. Gabe had always been willing to to indulge in listening to her ramblings about her inventions instead of commenting of how inappropriate the sciences were for a lady of her station.��

She remembered how patient and encouraging he was to her when she was dismayed about her calculations or some social event where she feared that she’d be ridiculed. He had been there for her for the awkwardness, the joyful family holidays and gloomy days of anniversaries of those long gone. He was always there for her to lend an ear and make her feel better. Even in his letters far off in the field of battle, he truly cared about what she was saying. He said they gave him some comfort, some normalcy. 

No, she could lose all that. 

She loved. . . 

Oh goodness, she loved him. 

The shock of the revelation almost sent her reeling into the rose bushes but her tongue managed to bypass her brain and continue speaking. Thankfully, on topic and not on her epiphany. 

“I know I have made mistakes but if you’d been here the past few days you would have seen how I’ve tried to change.Please tell me I am your friend,” She pleaded.

Isabel’s heart sank further at Gabe’s glance. He would not look her in the eye, instead sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck and halfheartedly gazing the rose petals. 

“I do not wish to call you my friend because I wish to call you something infinitely more dear.” 

What? What could he possibly. . . did he mean? 

Isabel’s heart fluttered with hope once more. A faint glimmer but powerful that sent shivers down her spine as Gabe chanced a look up at her. 

Gabe was one of the strongest, bravest yet sweetest man she had ever known. But at this moment, he looked like a scared boy. A brave yet scared boy who was doing his best to hold eye contact with her as he spoke quickly of all the things that had been pressing on his heart. 

“Did you never wonder why I never befriended Duke Alonso? It was because I knew he was vying for your attentions. Indeed, when you insulted Lady Yolanda at the picnic, I thought that evidence of his influence over you, and I couldn’t bear to see that so I went away. Mateo’s workshop is usually a place of comfort to me, but seeing your sister there kept you fresh in my mind. I only felt hope again when I heard of Alonso’s engagement and I rush back, anxious to hear of your feelings, keen to be near you. I rode through the rain, but I’d ride through worse if I could just hear your voice telling me that I might at least have some chance to win you.” 

He spoke in such a great rush of feeling, it was hard for Isabel to keep up. But the message stayed the same. 

He had been holding these feelings for her inside a long time, hadn’t he? And once more she had been too blind to notice. Blind to herself as well! 

He wasn’t a big brother figure as she had always presumed. She would not have highly sought his good opinion as she realized she did. 

He was more than that. He was her other half. Her safety. When she wasn’t overthinking things he made her feel so comfortable. Secure to be more accurate. She felt like she could truly be herself around him and never feel judged.

She looked at him, unsure and nervous. His fingers fidgeting and twisting a rose stem in his nervousness. He was truly afraid that she did not feel the same. 

Though she may be blind, she was no longer. 

She gently took his worrying hands into her own. She did her best to look into his gaze, but found the warm chocolate of his eyes almost melting. She couldn’t keep her thoughts straight for she was suddenly overwhelmed by his handsomeness and the joy radiating from him.

Joy that she returned his feelings. She never knew she could procure such a reaction from someone. Much less him! 

“Sir Gabe,” Isabel began stutteringly, unable to keep the glee from her voice, “If I have not spoken, it is because I am afraid I will awaken myself from this dream! It cannot be true! I feel so full of error, so mistaken in my make-up to deserve you! What of my flaws? I’ve humbled you, and I’ve lectured you and you have borne it as none could have born it.” 

Isabel could see that he was about to open his mouth to kindly reject the claim but she was aware of her faults now. He was sweet though to try dissuade her. 

“Maybe it is our imperfections that make us so perfect for one another? Marry me?” 

Isabel laughed out loud with shock at her sudden declaration as well as Gabe’s startled face but she did not regret it. 

Now her feelings were known, she desired it greatly. She was ready for this new life at her friend’s side. 

“Oh marry me, my wonderful, darling friend!” 

[miekasa]

Roommate Au with Eren. That’s it.

No no no no because I’ve thought about this extensively, and I actually believe he’d be a pretty good roommate (or at the very least, he means well most of the time, even if he is slightly annoying in his methods LMAO).

He… is not the best cook in the world, and he knows that. He can make about 2.5 dishes properly: spaghetti and [frozen] meatballs, a grilled cheese maybe with bacon if he’s feeling up to challenge, and a soup that his mom used to make for him as a kid whenever he got sick.

So, you’re gonna have to handle the majority of the cooking, BUT the good news is that Eren will do the dishes as a thanks for sharing with him and not letting him starve and/or live off of UberEats credits.

His favorite rooms in the house are the living room and your room. Not his room, not the bathroom, not the kitchen—your room. Why? Because you’re in there, duh, and it’s not his so that makes it that much better.

Eats your leftovers in the fridge unless you put a note on them. Sometimes, he’ll still eat it if he’s hungry enough or in a rush, and you’ll come home to an empty fridge, but there’ll be a new note on top of a $20 bill that says “Sorry I ate your pad thai :( you can buy some more tho (and get me some too hehe)”

If you’re just lazing around in your room for an extended amount of time, Eren will just come in and. Flop down on your bed—maybe even on top of you—and whine about how he’s bored and how you’re being boring and how you should entertain and hang out with him instead.

Claims your room is comfier than his room, so of course he’s gonna wanna be in there. He’ll literally lay and sit on the floor and watch a whole ass movie on his phone in your room, just because.

If you have or collect stuffed animals or Squishmallows or anything of the sort, he always giggles at them, but thinks they’re super cute. And when he’s out without you and sees some, he sends you a picture of them and asks if you want any, and he’ll buy them for you.

He gets you very… involved? if that makes sense. He likes to do things with you and hang out with you—he doesn’t wanna live with some stranger, so if you’re rooming with him, prepare to become friends very quickly.

Eren’s a bit of an… outgoing introvert? not-so-social extrovert? something like that in my book lmfao, so he knows what it’s like to just wanna sit in your room for days on end; but he also knows there’s a limit to how good/restorative that can be, and when it can become an issue.

That being said, if you’re having an extended depressive and/or introverty episode, Eren will shake you out of it. Literally. He will burst into your room, and grab you and probably toss you over his shoulder to get you physically moving, all while yelling about plans he made for the two of you.

Drags you with him to the grocery store, under the claim that he needs help “picking out the good apples,” when really he just wants to get you out of the house, and spend some time with you.

Once again, will use the method of flopping on top of you and/or draping himself over you like, “Hey, so what time do you think we should leave for dinner, I’m thinking around 8?” “What—did we have dinner plans, Eren?” “We do now! So, I’m thinking tacos, what do you think!!”

His personal favorite way to get you up and moving is to ask you to do his hair for him. Gives you his best puppy dog eyes, and pulls at your wrist until you comply, then he sits down criss-cross applesauce right in the middle of your bed, and waits for you to work your magic. Purposely acts a bit difficult just to bring out your feisty side and have you fight back against him.

He’ll legit. Build you a whole ass pc and gaming setup just for you to play games with him. He’s dedicated, that’s for sure. (That won’t stop him from absolutely crushing you from time to time).

He likes to bother you (affectionate). Pushes you over when you’re sitting down on the couch, shoves your phone when you’re holding it so it falls on your face, presses his cold water bottle on the back of your neck and then runs away. Like a child.

He always takes out the trash, especially if it’s late at night, except he always forgets about the 239725 water bottles he’s got piled up in his room and around the living room, so you’ve always gotta take out an extra bag of recycling the following morning.

Your skincare is his skincare <2

Makes you go out with him when he makes plans with his friends, but only ever tells you about it maybe an hour beforehand via text.

yeager: hey jean and marco are having a lil kickback thing at their place so i'm coming to pick u up be ready in like 30 mins

yeager: oh also bring the bottle of vodka in the kitchen kirsten is always stingy with the good stuff 🙄

you: ok and who asked ME if i wanna kickback with jean and marco and co?????

yeager: nobody!! i’m just telling u to get dressed!! love u ill be there soon 🥳🥳

He starts doing his laundry whenever you do yours. Partially to annoy you, partially because it’s somewhat more efficient that way, and partially because he’s watching you like a hawk to make sure he doesn’t mess up his own clothes lmfao

He’ll roll weed for you only if you promise to share a joint with him, and don’t flake!! He’ll catch you in your sleep if you flake, he knows where you live.

When you both come home kinda drunk after a night out, he always dramatically tells you goodnight and to “get home safe,” even though “getting home safe” means walking from the living room down the hall to your room.

Tells everyone you’re the best roomie anyone could ask for, and does a not so humble brag about all his favorite roommate qualities that you exude.

If he has a little crush on you, he’ll try not to make it obvious; and truthfully, he doesn’t act all that different, except now maybe he finds more excuses to touch you and tries to up the romance when you two “hang out” together.

He starts looking (staring) at you more, and is always embarrassed if you ever catch him. I don’t think that he would ever tell you unless he was 120% sure you liked him back, because that would lead to a really awkward living situation if you rejected him, or if he made you uncomfortable with his feelings.

But if you do like him back, once again, few things will change: it’s just that now, he’ll sneak into your room in the middle of the night for cuddles, and you’ll get a kiss on the forehead for cooking him dinner <3

[teeztheflag]

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Mafia!Ateez reaction to their child telling them that a member is flirting with you

trigger warnings ⚠️ mafia themes, flirting, mentions of cheating, possessive behavior, murder, alcohol, sexual harassment (slight)

general taglist: @latte-fairytaekwoon @little-precious-baby @yunhobabygurl @multidreams-and-desires @purplelady85 @smallfrye​

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k i m  h o n g  j o o n g

„Where’s mommy?“ Your little son ran up to Hong Joong to be picked up by the mafia leader.

His eyes wander over the crowd at the garden gathering and when he’s not spotting you he flashes a little smile at his son.

„Mommy is talking to a man.“

Hong Joong nudges the little boy to whereas he points into a direction. Following the path around the house he sees you talking to none other than Kang Yeo Sang. His rival.

When Yeo Sang places his palm on your cheek you take a step back and frown at the boy. Hearing a cough behind you a smile escapes your form. The rival on the other hand rolls with his eyes and lets out a huff.

You’re quick to stand next to your husband and take your son into your arms leaving the two mafia leaders behind.

„You’re getting on my nerves, Kang.“

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p a r k  s e o n g  h w a

„(y/n)...“

You stood stiff in Seong Hwa‘s lavish office. Your gaze trained to the ground and your heart sinking to the bottom when he neared your form. He placed his cold fingers under your chin to raise your head. Locking his eyes with you a sigh escapes him.

„You know you belong to me. Why are you still resisting?“

„I don’t know what you are talking about.“

Seong Hwa engulfs you into his embrace leaning your head on his shoulder.

„Even our princess doesn’t like you betraying me. I will make sure you are not seeing him again.“

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j e o n g  y u n  h o

„And what did he say after that?“

Yun Ho caressed his daughters soft hair while she sat on his lap in their livingroom.

„That he will hurt her. I don’t remember so much... He was really scary daddy!“

With big glossy eyes Yun Ho feels his heart shattering. His daughter being so afraid for his light of the world.

He wouldn’t let Choi San get away with this.

After bringing his angel to bed he visits your shared bedroom to see you being asleep. You’re stirring and he can only guess that your nightmares are back.

With a gun and a sharp knife hidden in his suit he drives fast through the night. His team is already ready to blow up the place.

And with the final hit Yun Ho grabs the ex lover of his wife by his collar.

„I told you to stay away from us. That she is not your business anymore. What were you thinking?“

San struggles in his grip but manages to bring out his probably last words. „Kill me, but, live with the knowledge that she will never love you.“

He dropped to the ground and Yun Ho grasps his shaking hands together rage filling his body.

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k a n g  y e o  s a n g

When your son repeatedly told Yeo Sang that he really liked the guy that was around you since a few weeks he was relieved. It was good Woo Young seemed to do his job right. After the last attack he wanted the both of you safe all the time. That’s why he send one of his best men that he trusted with all of his might.

It was only when he tucked him into bed that he stopped in his tracks being deep in thoughts. He goes downstairs and pours himself a glass of wine. He jolts a little bit when you embrace him from behind and he turns around to eye you with a sharp gaze. Tilting his head you step back and flash him a small smile.

„What’s up?“

„Woo Young‘s taking good care of you, right?“

You frown and immediately know by the tone he uses that something‘s not to his liking, and, Kang Yeo Sang not liking something was bad.

„He is, he is doing a good job. I guess.“

„Hyun Jin likes him, too. But you know what he just told me?“

You absentmindedly reach out to him to probably cool down his anger.

„He told me that uncle Woo Young was really close to you. Close like ‚daddy‘, when I asked him what he meant with that.”

“Yeo Sang, he’s not. He is just friendly. Hugging me as a greeting nothing more.“

„You think our three year old son is lying to me? (y/n), I warn you, I know him. Don’t take his flirting attempts light hearted.“

You nod at him knowing he wouldn’t take any arguing.

„If you can’t stop him I will give him a different job.“ With a last sip he finishes his glass and roughly pulls you into him to place a delicate and territorial kiss on your forehead.

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c h o i  s a n

„Dad, I don’t know how to say this but... I am really worried for your marriage. I mean is everything fine?“

San takes his cup of coffee sitting down on the breakfast table in front of your fourteen year-old daughter. He really needed a moment to register So Ra‘s words.

„What? Of course everything‘s fine! Or what are you even talking about?“

So Ra‘s gaze is trained on the buttered toast in front of her a deep frown taking place on her forehead.

„Yesterday at the gala... and I don’t know if I am mistaking things, but, I feel like she was flirting with this CEO named Song.“

San‘s eyes widened and he quickly takes a another sip from his coffee. „Oh, ehm, believe me your mother has always had her effect on...men.“

„Yeah, but, dad - the guy was literally stripping her naked with his eyes - “

„Choi So Ra! Your words!“ So Ra gestures a sorry with her hands but she didn’t want her mother to be so close to other men. She loved her parents dearly and she wanted to have a marriage like them in the future.

„Really, anyways, don’t worry. Everything‘s perfect. If there’s a problem we would never lie to you, promise!“ He holds his pinky for So Ra and with a relieved sigh she links it like she and her dad always did.

„Good morning!“ You place a kiss on your daughter‘s cheek and send a smirk to San being proud you got the right information last night.

San looks at his two princesses and has to hold back a laugh. If their daughter only knew their jobs things would be more dangerous but in many ways easier, too.

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s o n g  m i n  g i

„What means ‚sexy‘?“

You nearly caugh at your son‘s words quickly drinking something. Min Gi also nearly doubles over laughing while typing away a text for his members for their mission.

„Dong In! I thought we talked about this already.“

Your son was a persistent person eyeing you suspiciously.

Min Gi places his device on the table continuing to eat the soup for their shared dinner. „It means beautiful, but, it’s not a really polite word, Dong In.“

„Ah, so Mr. Kim is not polite to you Mum?“ That indeed catches your husband‘s attention.

„What is he talking about, (y/n)?“ A sly smile leaves him.

You groan out knowing sooner or later your son would’ve told him. „Well, Dong In‘s teacher just seems to need a talk with me about our son occasionally. And today he told me that he thinks I am ‚beautiful‘. Right, Dong In?“ Your son wasn’t paying attention anymore but with a naive sigh he slurped the rest of his soup.

„He said mommy‘s a sexy thing.“

„Dong In!“ Min Gi slowly sits back flexing his arm‘s muscles. He eyes you with a hungry gaze while he nudges Dong In.

„Next time Mr. Kim is telling your mother that she’s beautiful you say that your dad thinks so, too. Alright buddy?“ Min Gi fist bumps with your son.

„Got it!“

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j u n g  w o o  y o u n g

Woo Young wasn’t really a jelous man. He knew his worth and he also tend to be proud of the woman at his sight. Your auro caught the gazes of many men and that only boosted the mafia‘s ego.

When a man was flirting with you it was for you to play by the game. Being raised into the mafia business yourself you knew how to handle those greedy bastards.

Woo Young only smirked in the back of a booth when someone sneaked into the seat next to you at the bar. His men ready at any given chance to beat up the poor soul that tried to take what was Jung‘s.

But - he also loved your sneaky site.

It was only a button that you pushed too far when your daughter went up to his daddy to cry about how you were not giving her enough attention at the big gathering. Like the father himself their princess needed the recognition from her beloved ones.

Woo Young‘s gaze darkened when he saw you being corned by the one and only mafia leader of the west - Choi Jong Ho.

„That b - “

„Daddy! You didn’t want to swear! Mommy told you not to swear!“

„Ahhh, you’re right darling.“ He turned around to give his daughter into Seong Hwa‘s arms - one of his members.

With confident steps he emerges your form at the end of the room where Jong Ho was busy playing with your hair while talking about his latest wins in the business.

„Choi. Would you mind keeping your hands to yourself?“ Woo Young was raging by now. You didn’t stop the rival from touching you and the naive smile you send to your lover only angered him more.

„Let’s ask the lady what she wants.“ Jong Ho wiggles his eyebrows at Woo Young and you mentally facepalmed knowing Mr. Jung would scream bloody murder in a few seconds.

„I am sorry Mr. Choi.“ You gracefully step into Woo Young‘s arms giving him the satisfaction of winning this little debate with his rival. Jong Ho laughs out loud and turns around to leave the two of you.

„If you want attention ask for it. Don’t make me mad, baby.“

You lock eyes with him putting on a pout. „This way it is much more fun!“

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c h o i  j o n g  h o

It was the final day your son got introduced to the mafia world. A big party was held for him after he was prepared for everything over months. It was also his 16th birthday party and you had tears in your eyes knowing he was growing into a man so quickly really assembling his father in many ways.

It has been Park Seong Hwa‘s presence that put you off. He was an acquaintance of your clan for a long time but you didn’t really like the guy. When he approached you after dinner, when you were ushering your son to dance with a girl on the dancefloor, you immediately knew he was going to get on your nerves again.

He made jokes, touched you and clearly invaded your personal space. For the sake of your peaceful agreement you played his game hoping someone would come to help you out of your misery.

„Dad, I will literally kick this guy‘s balls if - “

„I already know about it.“ Jong Ho‘s gaze is fixed on your figure across the room. He turns to his son and tells him to have fun. He would take care of the matter.

Jong Ho soundlessly leans into your side leading Seong Hwa to roll with his eyes. He places a meaningful and strong kiss on your trembling lips catching your weight with his arms to steady you.

Playfully he turns around to the mafia a smile adoring his features. „Mr. Park. I didn’t even see you there!“ You’re quick to leave the duo to get to the toilet knowing by the squeeze Jong Ho just gave you a few seconds ago.

„Still so possessive I see. Let us leave this by complimenting you on your still beautiful wife.“ He let’s out a giggle while eying the crowd.

„Thank you, Seong Hwa. Seems to be running in my family.“

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↺ back to navi

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[watermelonlovershigh]

Single Dad Harry & His Daughter Rose (journey through life)

This was requested by this anon (instead of the daughter being just one of the ages you suggested, i decided to just incorporate all the ages, like a timeline of her life.)

AN: from now on, i think i'm going to use a random name generator for child names in my fics (like i did with this one). that way the name is random and with no thought. unless someone requests a name to be used.

This story contains: completely narration, no dialog, dad goals

{ dad!harry - singledad!harry - became a dad at 17 years old }

word count: 1320

Harry's journey of taking care and raising his daughter Rose as a single father.

Ever since Harry became a single dad, his life had been anything but easy. When his daughter Rose (named after his rose tattoo) was a baby, her mum completely left them, saying she didn't want to be a mother yet and it was a mistake to have not used protection. Especially when it was a one-night stand and that person was a celebrity. She had Rose (not finding it in her to go through with an abortion) and days later gave her baby to Harry, and that was the last time Rose ever saw her mother and Harry ever saw his baby's mama.

When Rose was a baby, Harry was the one that got up at all hours of the night to make her bottles, beings she had no way of breastfeeding. Most of the time on the One Direction tour bus because that's where he and his bandmates stayed while on the road touring. He'd also burp her and change her dirty diapers. Rub her little tummy when it ached. The rest of One Direction didn't always like being woken up to a crying baby, but at the end of the day, knew how special Rose was to Harry and supported him through everything.

His bandmates would often babysit Rose when Harry had to go into the recording booth and record his parts of their songs. Louis was the one who acted as a mother figure in her life (beings he grew up taking care of his younger sisters), like doing nightly feedings when Harry was sleep deprived. Or give Rose a bath in the little baby tub they bought for the bus when Harry was just busy in general. Niall being the silly guy, loved to make Rose laugh when she was being a bit moody. And Zayn and Liam were the protectors and kept Rose out from harms way.

When One Direction went on hiatus, Harry didn't have all the help he once had when living with four other people. At that point, Rose was three so it wasn't as hard to take care of her as it was when she was a baby, but still quite difficult for him being a single dad. She was potty trained and eating all regular foods. Though she'd sometimes still wanted a bottle of warm milk to help her fall asleep at night.

Harry would make Rose breakfast, lunch, and dinner for the two of them each day. He'd give her baths and washed her curly hair, sometimes making a soap Mohawk from the shampoo just to make her laugh. He'd read Rose bedtime stories and sing her lullabies. And though Harry tried to enforce Rose to sleep in her own bed like a big girl, he'd always cave in when she gave her daddy puppy dog eyes and a wobbly lip, as though she was about to cry. So often Rose ended up in her daddy's bed and Harry held her close, loving the feeling of knowing his daughter was safe and sound in his embrace.

Years went by and Harry sent Rose to kindergarten. Much to his disliking because he'd miss being with her through-out the day. He'd get up with her every morning and styled her hair to the best of his abilities. Sometimes not being able to accomplish what Rose requested and feeling terrible. Times like that was when he wished Rose had a mother or mother figure. Harry would pack Rose a lunch to take to school and help her with her homework when she got home at the end of each day.

Harry went to every school play Rose was in (she loved preforming just like her daddy) and every PTA meeting the school held. Though he juggled being a international popstar, Harry always put his daughter first no matter what. He helped her with any school projects she'd have and Harry even went and chatted to the principle when Rose complained that some kids were being mean to her. He was a super dad, doing it all.

When Rose turned ten, Harry decided she was old enough to go on tour with him. He hadn't properly toured since One Directions last tour (just doing local gigs here and there) and that had been years from that point in their lives. Harry wanted to wait a few years and give Rose somewhat of a normal childhood with stability, hence why she attended public school in her adolescents.

Harry hired an on-the-road teacher to have as Roses homeschooling teacher that'd stay on his tour bus as they traveled. His number one priority was making sure she got her education over anything else. Harry paid for extra security guards to protect Rose when she went out, beings some fans went a little crazy. Harry had his assistant watch her when he was busy in the studio or doing interviews. Life was hard at times and yes Harry wished Rose still had a mother, but wouldn't have traded his life experiences of being a single dad for nothing. It truly helped him mature faster and appreciate live to the fullest.

Two years later at age twelve, Rose became a women. Well she started her period and matured like a women. Because all she'd ever known was living with her dad and not really having many women figures in her life, telling Harry she started her period wasn't that bad. Rose was fortunately home when her period had started and walked into the living room where her dad was sipping a glass of wine and informed him she was menstruating.

In the twelve years of Roses life, Harry knew that that day was coming. The day she'd start her period. He was only regretting that day because his little girl wouldn't be so little anymore, but wasn't hoping that day wouldn't ever come because he knew how important it was for a women to have one. Harry grew up with a house full of women so periods were a natural and easy topic to discuss. He hugged Rose, congratulated her, and immediately drove her to the local pharmacy to purchase some pads and tampon (and chocolate + a heating pad).

Between the ages of twelve and Roses current age of sixteen, life went as well as it could have gone for Harry and her. Unlike most teenage girls, Harry raised a good and respectful young lady. Rose doesn't like to go out and party like some of her friends do. She'd much rather stay at home and spend time with her dad. She's a daddies girl after all. Rightfully so because to her, her dad was the only one who truly loved her and cared for her, unlike her dead-beat mother.

As for Harry, he's still single. He's had a few flings through-out the years and a couple one-night stands, but he hasn't meet anyone that felt like a keeper. Or someone who he felt would love his daughter the way she deserved to be loved and treated. Harry doesn't tour as much anymore because of his age (not due to fan loss because he still has millions of fans. fans that love to call Harry a dilf.) and Rose is back attending a public school in London. They often visit her dad's ex bandmates and Rose loves them all dearly. They helped raise her as a baby and feel like secondary father figures to her.

Sometimes Rose wishes she still had a mum. A women in her life that she could have womanly conversations with and chat about her love interest to. Even just to say she had a mum because when her friends chat about their mums, she feels left out and sad. But truth be told, she almost thinks her life was meant to turn out like it did. Her and her dad Harry make a great father/daughter duo and she wouldn't trade the connection they have for anything in this world. Even if it was for a mum that loved her.

Masterlist (regular smut, fluff & sicfics)

My Favorite Harry Styles Fics MASTERLIST

Harry Styles Series One Shots Masterlist (for my one shots that go with a series universe)

Harry Styles blurbs, concepts, & short stories Masterlist- (short writing with little to no dialog)

[thatweirdoleigh]

Socks (but i finish the fic)

Elijah Mikaelson x reader

Warnings; Eli’s a good husband, and the reader cries oh yeah and reader’s pregnant

a/n ; Here is the full thing!! Cause its cute and for once i actually like the thing that i made. 

Imma tag the people i think will enjoy this.

My moms  @elijahs-wife​ @hellotvshowtrash

The Murder aunts; @mikaelson-emma​ @dumble-daddy​

Other Family Members that i don’t really talk to but love and appreciate anyway!;  @xxwritemeastoryxx​  @ronniemikaelson​ @lady-salvatore @thatfanficstuff @zodiyack @auroracalisto​ @dizzydancingdreamer​ @imaginearyparties​ @alwaysfangirlingish​ 

The giggles of his sisters echoed through the halls and into the entry way as Elijah opened the front door and stepped into his family home. Hope’s laughter and the laughter of his brothers and their wives joining shortly after. Rebekah was telling stories again, of all the mishaps, mistakes and schemes from over the centuries. It made him smile. Today was a good day.

After everything that had happened over the centuries, particularly the past several decades, it seemed like a dream come true to finally feel like a family again. To feel the same humble happiness that they felt when they were all still human. Like touching the stars with their bare hands. So he savored the memories and the joy and the rest that it brought to himself and those he cared so dearly for.

Walking into the parlor he was greeted by the warm welcomes of his family.

“Brother!” Klaus, all but beamed, “Welcome home!” A chorus of welcome home and welcome back echoed behind him.

Elijah grinned, wholeheartedly approving of the laid back posture of his younger brother, his arm slung over the back of the couch behind the witch that Klaus had fallen in love with. It was a stark contrast to the rage and paranoia that plagued him for so many years. “Its good to be home!”

“How was your meeting with the contractor brother?” Finn queried, far more subdued than the others. Even though they had all forgiven him, and profusely apologized for 1000 years of pain, Finn still didn’t feel like he quite belonged with the rest of his family. A fact Elijah had been eager to fix once the realization had set in of exactly how shitty their treatment of him was. Courtesy of Camille, of course. However 900 years in a coffin is not forgotten overnight, so it was still a work in progress. So it further proved to warm Elijah’s heart when his eyes laid upon Finn and found him squished between Freya and Kol’s firecracker of a fiancé, instead of locked in his room.

Elijah smiled at Finn and placed his suit jacket over the back of an unoccupied chair, “It was good. We got all of the final details and planning done and now its we are just waiting for the town to give us a building permit”

“that’s good” Finn replied with a nod.

For context, Y/n was pregnant with Elijah’s child, a miracle given in the form of a spell cast as a wedding gift and created by Kol and Klaus’ wife. Y/n had all but declared that she wanted their children to have as normal lives as physically possible and while the Mikaelsons were hesitant to go along with this plan, it was agreed that perhaps living in a mansion with 4 witches, 6 vampires, and 3 hybrids was not a normal childhood. So it was agreed that they would own a separate family home to raise their children in while still visiting as often as physically possible.

As Elijah looked around and took in the the scene around him he noticed that y/n was not among his siblings and so begged the question as to where was his darling wife?

“If I may ask, where is y/n?”

It was Kol’s fiancé that pipped up. “She came rushing in with a bag, declared that she was going to enjoy her new socks and then she was taking a nap, You know how my twin is Elijah, she gets excited over the simplest things, and then she ran upstairs without another word. Imagine she is asleep by now. Probably has been for a while. ”

Elijah smiled and Keelin looked at her curiously, ”Socks?”

Elijah cleared her confusion “Yes Keelin. Socks. Its seems that my darling wife has developed an affinity for collecting and wearing the most colorful knee-high socks she can find”

“It is rather amusing to watch auntie y/ns excitement.” Hope testified from where she had tucked herself under her father’s other arm. “She rambled on about a pair she had found with neon green strips, all while eating a plate of bacon in the kitchen the other day”

Everyone laughed at the image, and Elijah just shook his head with mirth in his eyes, ”yes well, if you don’t mind I am going to join my wife and unborn child in bed. Goodnight to you all” and a chorus of goodnights followed him down the hall.

As Elijah climbed the stairs he couldn’t help but be reminded of how grateful of all of the things that life has granted him over the years. He had a beautiful wife that loved him and siblings that adored him and soon he would have children of his own.

As Elijah approached the door to his bedroom he couldn’t help but notice something was wrong. Stopping to listen he could hear sniffling and shaky breathes just beyond the door way.

“y/n?” he took the handle and pushed the door open.

There sitting in an armchair in the corner of their room was y/n. She was wearing one of Elijah’s Cambridge sweatshirts and a pair of his boxers. The sweatshirt was cream in color and it matched cream colored socks she held in her hand. While Elijah would normally fawn over how adorable she looked round with his child and dressed in his clothes he was more focused on the tears stains that and puffy red eyes that decorated the face of the love of his life.

Elijah was quick to kneel in front of her and cup her face in his hand “Y/n? Baby what’s wrong? Are you alright?” He placed his other hand on her belly and searched for some kind of injury to suggest that she was hurt.  

She looked at him with a watery smile, kissed his hand and said “I found a pair of socks that would match my favorite one of your sweatshirts and I got so excited to wear them.”

She held up the socks and gestured to her feet. “But I cant reach, so I cant put them on. And it made me so sad that I cried.”

Elijah’s face relaxed and he gave a sigh of relief, realizing it was something simple that he could easily fix. So he gently took the socks from her hands and unfolded them so he could put them on her. He rolled them up and then pulled them all the way up her legs to just below her knees and then gave a kiss to her nose. “there “ he whispered. “all better.”

“thank you ‘lijah.” She mumbled and then yawned.

“Oh. I think its bedtime.” He stated playfully.

“Im pregnant not two.” She grumbled with another yawn.

Elijah looked at her with nothing but adoration and said “baby you just cried over a pair of socks.” In response she pouted and Elijah couldn’t help but smile. 

“Alrighty. Bedtime!” He said scooping her up bridal-style. 

“you can’t be serious!” y/n scoffed. 

“Dead serious!” 

“Eli!” she whined, “don’t make puns when im annoyed at you! Then I can’t enjoy them!” 

Elijah only laughed, and then slowly spun her around in a circle. “wheeeeeee!” he said before gently tossing her on the bed. 

y/n looked up at her husband in exasperation as she watched him use vampire speed to strip to his underwear and climb onto the bed like a leopard on the prowl.  

“I love you.” he purred pressing a kiss to her swollen belly, eyes playfully looking up at her. 

She raised an eyebrow, “Me? Or your children?”. 

“Both” he replied, gently coercing her backwards onto the bed as he crawled farther up her body his hands rubbing circles into the sides of her stomach. y/n rolled her eyes and chuckled her amusement as he enveloped her in another kiss. 

Sighing happily y/n ran her hands through Elijah’s hair, as he eagerly deepened the kiss. However Elijah had to stop this blissful moment rather short. 

He furrowed his brow and pulled back slightly so he could see his wife’s eyes, “Children?” he questioned. “plural?” 

Now it was y/n’s turn to grin playfully. 

“I went to the doctors today.” She said eyes twinkling with mischief. “And i learned something rather interesting.”  

Elijah narrowed his eyes, recognizing that she was toying with him. “did you now?” 

“I did” she purred rubbing her hands down his neck and shoulders. “Apparently twins are not always magical miracle coincidences. More often than not they are genetic.” and as her smile grew bigger so did Elijah’s. “And considering that I am half of a set, I’d say the trait has passed on.” 

Elijah’s grinn was getting bigger by the second. “you mean to tell me. That not only am I getting one daughter.” he leaned in closer until their noses were touching. “I’m getting two?” 

“yes” she whispered seductively and elijah expressed his joy by kissing her again. 

“And do you wanna know what else I learned?” y/n said slyly as he trailed his kisses down her throat. He grunted quietly for her to continue and y/n leaned up and murmured in his ear, “Both of your ‘daughters’ are sons” 

Elijah groaned and pulled back up to her face, “damn. I was really hoping was really hoping for a mini you.” he admitted swallowing y/ns laughter in another kiss. 

Y/n pulled him to lay beside her as they both got under the duvet and settled comfortably for bed. y/n lay on her side facing Elijah and he buried his face in her hair his hands finding their way to her rounded abdomen, joyful and excited to meet his children in the nearby future. 

“Eli?” she said softly. “will you sing to me?” she asked looking up at him. 

“Of course, My love” and so Elijah sang the same nordic lullaby his mother taught him all those years ago and they both drifted off to sleep. 

[carnationworld-writings]

Hold me, thrill me, kiss me (Caspian x fem!reader)

To read my other works, check my MASTERLIST !

Paring: Prince Caspian x fem!reader

Universe: The Chronicles of Narnia

Word Count: 1250

Warnings: mention about a homesick, mean person, horses, food and kisses. 

If I forgot about anything feel free to write to me. Your wellbeing is important to me!

Summary: The one where Caspian tried to cheer up her. 

Y/N was new at the court. She knew etiquette, and in theory, she knew how she should act. But once again, theory turned out to be completely different from practice. Even if there were so many people and creatures that were extremely kind to her, she saw all glances from other ladies when she wasn't sure of something or did something wrong. They weren't big mistakes, but for them, it didn't matter. She only could feel comfortable in the evenings when she was hiding in her chamber. She loved being there and could know better Caspian, who was in her mind since they danced together at the banquet. However, it was getting harder and harder to find happiness every day. She missed her home, and it was the first time in her life that she was so far from it. She missed all known places and people about who she cared dearly. 

After dinner, where one of the ladies made unpleasant comments about the region that Y/N lived, she excused herself with a headache and went to the gardens. She tried to clear her head, flexing her fingers. She knew that she did well before, not letting provoke herself, answering with all the kindness she had in her, but it hurt. She wanted to cry and immediately packed her things to go back home. The only thing or rather person who stopped her from this was Caspian. She really cared about him, and when he smiled at her, he brightened her day no matter how bad it was earlier. Even if they didn't know each other very long, she already felt that her heart was longing for him. 

She sat on a bench and looked at a not big fountain. She watched birds flying close to it and smiled softly. When she heard footsteps on a gravel path, she looked up. At the sight of Caspian, she stood up and bowed deeply before him. She didn't see a tender smile that showed on his face. 

"My lady... I thought that we agreed that you won't do it. At least when we are alone." 

"I'm sorry, your majesty... Caspian. It's just a habit." She looked at him with a small, mock smile. "How can I help you?"

"I wanted to check if you are alright...You didn't look well at the dinner, and the comments that Lady Reza made were inappropriate." 

"I... I will be alright. I'm just homesick, but I appreciate your concern." 

"I will always be concerned about you and how you feel," Caspian whispered and looked down a little ashamed with this confession. With the heat coming to her cheeks, Y/N bit her lower lip to stop the smile that came on her face. "What can I do to cheer you up? What could make you feel like home here or... If you want to go back to your home, I can't hold you here. Say one word, and I'll order to prepare everything."

"I don't want to go back. I miss my family, but I would like to stay here... with you." 

Caspian looked at her, and when he saw her gentle smile, he couldn't help but repeat this gesture. She took his arm, and they slowly started walking through the garden. At his request, Y/N began talking about her home. She told him about views that could be admired from their mansions and landscapes where she loved to ride horses. She told him about her favourite cake that the older cook always made only for her. She told him about flowers in their garden and how everything smelled like them in the spring. He listened carefully to every word she said. He watched how her eyes brightened when she was speaking about people she loves, and when happiness came back at her face, he could swear that his heart forgot how to beat. When he realized that they somehow ended up before the door to her chambers, Caspian took her hand in his and placed a little too long kiss on its back, looking straight into her eyes. To his surprise, she didn't look away, and his heart nearly jumped off his chest. Still holding her hand, he watched her face, stopping his eyes at her lips. With all the strength he had, he stopped himself from leaning against her and connecting their lips. 

"Goodnight, my lady..." 

"Goodnight, Caspian."

In the morning, there was a surprise for Y/N. One of the maids brought her a small letter from Caspian, in which he asked her to meet him in the courtyard. She happily went there, and when she saw him, she stopped, stunned. Next to him were two horses ready to ride. He smiled proudly at her, pleased that he surprised her and she forgot to bow. 

"Caspian? What is it?" 

"Horses?" His smile grew wider when she laughed. "You were so happy yesterday when you spoke about riding, so I thought that we could do it. If you want, of course." 

"I... I would love to."

Both of them prepared quickly to ride, and when they were sitting in the saddles, they rode off the castle. Caspian chose the way that he knew she would like. He wanted to show her places to where he ran off as a kid and what he thought was fascinating. He watched how she looked around, not wanting to miss anything. She smiled at him lovingly when he was telling her about his childhood dreams and legends. 

They were so lost in each other that they didn't see heavy clouds gathering over them. Only the first drops that fell on their faces made them realize that they were too far from the castle to hide there in time. A little worried Caspian led them under a large tree, which he hoped would help them avoid getting soaked. He jumped off this horse and secured both animals. Caspian looked at Y/N and noticed that she shivered. He immediately helped her stand on the ground. He took a blanket that he wanted to use as a seat at a picnic for them and wrapped her in this. 

"Y/N, I'm so sorry..." 

"It's alright, Caspian. You can't change the weather." She smiled at him, feeling the heat from his body when he stood so close to her. "I should thank you. I was so miserable before, and you prepared all of this for me... You made me really happy today." 

"I would do everything to make you happy." 

Caspian still held her in his arms, rubbing her shoulders to warm her a little. He looked into her eyes and smiled when she gently touched his cheek, brushing away a lock of his hair. He put his hand on hers and leaned slightly, stopping his face just centimetres from hers. "Can I..." 

"Please..." she breathed out, nodding her head with a smile. 

Y/N's heart pounded in her chest when his lips were getting closer. The smell of him was hypnotic. She parted her lips slightly, rising on her toes and allowed their lips met halfway. She only could focus on how soft he felt against her mouth, how addictively he was for her. His arms were draped around her frame, and she was happy to lean on him when her knees got weak under her. And if the time had stopped as they stood under that tree, glued to one another, if no one else existed. 

Author’s note: 

Thank you for reading! Please, let me know what are you thinking about this one! Any feedback is greatly appreciated.

I am sorry about every grammar mistake and misspellings. English is not my first language.

Klaudia  💜

Capsian taglist: @elennox03 @live-love-loki @radcloudenthusiast @effielumiere @blackst0nes7077 @mystic-writings @acciorudolphx @siriuslyslyslytherin @90steaology​

Taglists are open! If you want to be added fill this up or send me an ask!

[mm2305]

What Ethan & Olivia AU is this? #OpenHeartAU

An eventful encounter

Pairing : Ethan Ramsey x Olivia Valentine || Rating/Genre : Teen+/romance, general || Warnings / Words : none / 2.8k ||Setting : Alternate Universe - Regency Era || Disclaimer : all characters and pictures belong to the rightful owners

Summary : During one of her trips in town, Olivia meets the newly-arrived Dr. Ramsey.

A/N : Let me start by saying that this has been in my inbox for almost a month and I'm so sorry for the long wait. Secondly, this was something completely new to me, since it's set in a different time and universe, but still very fun to write! No beta, so all mistakes are mine. I really hope this comes out good enough :)

Enjoy!

My masterlist

-/-

Somewhere in the England of 1816

Olivia's pov

"Oh come on you little bugger", a young woman sighed exasperated, looking at her reflection in the vanity. She had been trying for the last twenty minutes to gather her long hair with some pins, but it was difficult to contain all of it in them. Finally, she got ready and rushed down the stairs of her home, Edenbrook Manor.

"Mrs Clarke? Where are you?"

"I am in the kitchens Miss Olivia!", the other woman replied.

Olivia followed the stairwell leading to the kitchen and greeted Mrs Clarke, one of the people who worked in her home. She was more than that to her though, since she was the one who practically raised her, her friend and closest confidant. Her father, Ernest Valentine, was a merchant, quite known for his successful business, but was away from home most of the year, coming only a few weeks at a time. Therefore, her mother, Anne Valentine, was left to manage most of the affairs regarding the estate and surrounding grounds they owned. Both did love her dearly, they just didn't have time for her. Since she had no siblings, she was left with no one's company but Mrs Clarke's ,who in her and her family's eyes had become a member of the Valentine family too.

"Do you need anything else from the market Mrs Clarke?"

"No Miss, that's everything we need. Are you sure you want to go, though ?"

Having grown up close to her, Olivia was always helping around the house in whatever ways she could, even though she wasn't expected or needed to do so. Of course, she didn't neglect her occasional music , embroidery and drawing lessons, even though her true passion was biology, anatomy and science. In another world she imagined herself being a doctor, but since that wasn't possible, she just made the best of the situation at home, doing many things to pass her time.

"Of course! It will be a great chance for me to get some fresh air since I have not been out for a while. I promise I will be careful."

"Alright dear. Then you had better go now, it's quite a walk to the market.Who knows, you may meet somebody worth going to a ball with today."

"Not likely Mrs Clarke. And besides, you know I have high standards."

With a slight wave to Mrs Clarke, Olivia took her basket and headed out of the Manor.

----------

After a long, refreshing walk, Olivia reached the local food market. Rows upon rows of products had filled the sides of the road, the smell of flowers, herbs and fresh fruit invading her senses. People moved at their own pace, some slow and others faster, with baskets of their own at hand and doing their shopping. The whole street seemed to have come alive on that warm, autumn afternoon, creating a charming, quaint picture.

In just a few minutes she had gathered everything she needed, her basket full of herbs, vegetables and fruit. Ready to go home, she turned around, towards the end of the market, not noticing the tall man coming her way and colliding with him, the force knocking her down on the ground.

"I am so sorry sir, I did not mean --"

"Forgive me Miss I --", they both started apologizing at the same time. Olivia noticed she was still on the ground and the stranger offered his hand and carefully helped her back on her feet.

Finally looking up at him, she felt her breath catch in her throat.

The stranger was the most handsome man she had ever laid eyes on. He was tall with a strong physique. His hair was a dark mahogany brown color, just visible in his hat, leading to his piercing, ocean blue eyes. He had a sharp jawline with high cheekbones and she was sure that his smile would be just as beautiful as the rest of his face.

His warm hand was still holding hers, the gesture sending sparks through her body. The man, noticing he was still holding her hand, cleared his throat and dropped it gently.

"I am deeply sorry, Miss. I hope you are not hurt.", he said in a deep yet gentle voice.

"I am alright, thank you for your assistance Mr..?"

"Ramsey. Ethan Ramsey. And you are?"

"Olivia Valentine, sir, it's a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

"The pleasure is all mine. Oh! You dropped your basket!". He immediately bent down to gather the scattered apples, pears and whatever else could be saved.

"Please allow me, you need not do this…", she also kneeled beside him to gather the items, her hand going to catch an apple at the same time as Mr. Ramsey,their fingers briefly touching. They both locked eyes again, the movement making Olivia's cheeks redden in color. Did he feel that too? Looking away from his eyes for the sake of modesty and back at her now half full basket, she realized that she had to start making her way back home soon, if she wanted to make it before dinner. With a small sigh, she got up and dusted her dress,more than a little disappointed that she hadn't had the time to learn anything about Mr. Ramsey.

"Thank you once more Mr Ramsey. I sincerely apologize for falling onto you. If you'll excuse me, I need to return back home. I wish you a pleasant afternoon. ", she smiled softly at him and curtsied briefly before turning her back to him and starting walking. Hmm… I have never seen him before in town. Maybe Mrs. Clarke knows something about him. She decided she would ask Mrs. Clarke for more information when she reached home. Alas, she had not made it three feet away when Olivia heard him coming behind her.

" Ms. Valentine? "

" Yes? ", Olivia turned around curiously looking at him.

" Would you allow me to walk you back to your house? I… It's the least I could do for you after our eventful encounter", he asked with a hint of a smile on his face.

He really is handsome, she thought wordlessly. Was this her chance to get to know the mysterious man better? Was this a chance for a new friendship to bloom? Maybe something more? "Stop getting ahead of yourself Olivia. You just met this man! He may even be married!", The little voice in her mind warned her, but her heart, full of excitement at the prospect of getting to know him better, had already decided.

" I would love to"

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

Ethan's pov

Ethan was absentmindedly walking across the stone paved streets of the town he had just moved in. Or rather, his new residence was close to this town. Instead of taking his horse, he decided to take a walk from his house to the town, to get a feeling of orientation around this new place. Being prepared and feeling in control, made him feel more confident in himself, particularly since he was not good at social interactions. Being a man of solitude and always focused on his work, made him unwilling to make any meaningless acquaintances, the frivolous events he was often invited to, being of no essence to him. It was because of his work that he decided to move here.

Immersed in his thoughts as he was, he didn't notice the young lady that accidentally ran directly into him. The force of the blow knocked her to the ground, Ethan immediately apologizing and offering his hand to help her back up.

When the young woman looked up at him, he was left speechless.

This lady, whoever she was, was easily the most beautiful woman he had encountered in all the thirty years of his life. She had golden, blond hair that seemed softer than the most expensive silk and a spotless, alabaster skin. Her big, forest green eyes seemed to be able to see right through his soul and her rosy, full lips were in perfect harmony with her features. She was quite shorter than him, her head just reaching his shoulder and he could guess, even through the many layers of clothing, that she had a lean, feminine frame.

Her hand was soft and small in his and that's when he noticed he was still holding it. Clearing his throat to collect himself, he apologized again to her.

"I am alright, thank you for your assistance Mr..?", she asked him, her voice sounding like the most beautiful of melodies.

"Ramsey. Ethan Ramsey. And you are?"

"Olivia Valentine, sir, it's a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

A beautiful name for a beautiful woman. Where have I heard that name from though? Catching himself being so entranced in this lady he just met, he allowed his eyes to wander away from her, when he noticed her basket, previously full of products, now scattered on the ground. He set down to gather whatever could be saved, knowing he must seem like a fool for doing what a gentleman would never probably do. All his thoughts flew out of the window, when he felt that spark again from both their fingers closing around an apple. Olivia's cheeks turned in a color close to the apple she was holding, making her seem even more beautiful than before. What is it that has me totally mesmerized by this woman?

To his great displeasure, their brief encounter would have to be cut short, since she had to return back to her house. Wishing him farewell, she began walking away but before he fully thought about what he was about to ask, his feet were carrying him towards her.

"Ms Valentine?"

She turned around, clearly wondering what he wanted to ask from her. "Yes?"

Taking a deep breath he gathered the courage to ask her what he wanted. "Would you allow me to walk you back to your house? I… -he staggered even though he never did before, looking for a reason to convince not only her but himself too as to why he was doing this for someone he just met - It's the least I could do for you after our eventful encounter", he added with a small smile.

For a few seconds that really seemed to stretch into hours, he could see the wheels in her mind turning, before she looked up at him and said the words he so much had come to want to hear.

"I would love to"

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

Olivia's pov

Ethan offered her his arm to take and Olivia weaved hers through it, her hand settled at the crook of his arm.

They began walking and for a few minutes no one said anything, a somewhat awkward silence setting over them. Neither of them seemed sure as to what they should say to break the ice. Finally Ethan, with a small cough, began talking to her.

"Do you live far from town, Miss Valentine?"

"My home, Edenbrook Manor, is about an hour and a half away from here."

"Oh! I actually bought a residence that is, apparently, close to your house."

"So you are the new doctor who bought Kenmore Park!"

"Indeed, I am"

"May I ask what made you choose to come here? I have the feeling you have been offered better and perhaps more, financially speaking, beneficial positions in bigger towns or cities."

He didn't hesitate to answer. "I was offered a position in this hospital and I was instantly aware that here, I could be more useful since there are not many doctors willing to work in a more rural area. Besides, I had missed the countryside. Has my arrival become such a popular issue here? ", he raised an eyebrow teasingly.

"Yes and no, Dr. Ramsey." she put emphasis on the Doctor, teasing him back too.

Ethan lowered his eyes, seeming a little sheepish. "Ah well… I could not find it in my heart to correct you, Miss. I am sorry."

Olivia chuckled, waving her hand dismissively. "You do not need to worry about it, I assure you."

"You see, this is a relatively small town and it is rare that something new happens. People have the tendency to talk. Or rather gossip, if I am being honest. But I actually learnt about you, from my maid, Mrs Clarke. I do not really get out of the house a lot."

"May I ask why?", Mr. Ramsey asked. Then as if considering how indiscreet he must seem, he sucked in a breath and turned to her. "I am sorry, Miss Valentine, it was not my place to ask."

For some reason, Olivia found herself not minding. Normally, she would not be interested in having a conversation with a man, knowing that at her age every move was scrutinized by potential suitors. That is why she remained unmarried at the age of four and twenty, much to society's disappointment. She just could not bind herself to a loveless marriage of interest. However, with Ethan, talking was easy and she felt surprisingly comfortable with this man she only met an hour ago.

"Well. I remain unmarried at the age of four and twenty and people like I said before, tend to talk. I find myself uninterested in what they say but it does make everyday life easier, since I do not have to hear my parents and Mrs Clarke trying to convince me to attend balls at every chance.", she rolled her eyes with what she felt was loving exasperation.

"I honestly could not imagine a woman such as yourself not being asked for her hand in marriage", Dr. Ramsey said, his face carefully neutral at her admission.

"It is not that I have not received any proposals, but it is I who refuses. My father is quite successful at his profession and those suitors were clearly interested in my family's wealth, not me."

"Then yours was a wise decision to make, if you allow me to say this, Miss."

Nodding silently, Olivia contemplated asking the question that had been in her mind ever since they began their walk. Oh just do it already Olivia. Before she could think further about it, she blurted out her question.

" How about you, Dr. Ramsey? Is there a wife waiting for you at home?"

"No, actually. Much like your case, I have no interest in people not caring about the important things in a marriage. That is not to say I stand against the institution. But, there has not been the right person in my life, so far."

A small, imperceptible smile graced her lips at his answer.

"I assume you are quite taken with your job, no? Since you moved to a different area, just because you want to help here…", Olivia changed the topic after a moment, her tone more cheerful and her heart longing to hear how life as a physician is.

"Indeed I am. Of course I owe all the skills I have acquired, to my mentor, Dr. Naveen Banerji head of Solomon's Hospital in London and professor at --"

"Edinburgh Medical School.",she finished with something that could only be described as wonder in her eyes.

" But how do you know?", he turned to her, surprised that she had heard of Naveen.

Olivia's eyes lowered to the ground, knowing that what she was about to say, would make him laugh at her.

"I… I study biology, anatomy and science whenever I can. I know it is something impossible for a woman in our times, but if I had the chance, I would love to take a proper apprenticeship and become a physician. Naturally, I cannot help but be informed about everything surrounding the medical world. And Dr. Banerji is one of the best doctors in the country. "

When she reluctantly looked back into the eyes that seemed to call for her, she saw an emotion similar to admiration in them. What for, she could not understand , but it made the butterflies in her stomach flutter excitedly.

" Miss Valentine, I've known you for just about two hours and yet, I can confidently say that your intelligence would make you an excellent physician. Please, do not hesitate to ask me anything if you have questions, it would be my pleasure to answer them for you.", Ethan assured her, his voice sincere and the opposite of what she expected to hear.

Olivia's face lightened up at that and she started excitedly asking him several questions, for the rest of the way to her house. It had been a long time since she had met someone not dismissing her love for medicine and even longer since she sincerely enjoyed talking to another person besides her family.

"Maybe this could finally really be the start of something worth exploring", they both thought, grinning happily for the rest of the way back, perfectly content in each other's company.

-/-

A/N : if you made it this far, thank you so much for reading!

Tags (let me know if you want to be added or removed and if you want to be moved to another category) :

Perma (all edits and fics) : @romewritingshop @codykosuckmytoe @sophxwithers @actuallybored @potionsprefect @ethansramsey @crystalwillow @gryffindordaughterofathena @kiara-36 @mrsethanfreakingramsey @writer-ish @panda9584 @genevievemd @jamespotterthefirst @queencarb @shanzay44 @nikki-2406 @starryeyedrookie @coffeeheartaddict @schnitzelbutterfingers @mysticaurathings @starrystarrytrouble @lsvdw-blog @izzyourresidentlawyer @silma-words @stygianflood @headoverheelsforramsey @maurine07 @natureblooms24 @a-crepusculo

Fics : @alina-yol-ramsey // Regency era fics : @princess-geek

[miss-choco-chips]

Bird Watchers

It was something like an open secret in Gotham, that even though all it’s heroes were open to help no matter the situation, each one of them had a special affinity to certain matters.

For example, children from all districts knew to yell for Nightwing if they found themselves lost and scared. Small business owners often painted little Oracle symbols on their doorsteps, to warn away possible thieves with the knowledge that Gotham’s cryptic hacker had their eye on them. Working girls would send a quick prayer to the Red Hood before seeing their seediest clients; and as such, knew who to call for if things took a turn for the worst.

And Red Robin… well. His was a very specific bunch.

---.---

Warnings: depression, suicide attempts, overdose comic-typical violence (discussed, not explicit). Hurt-comfort all the way, baby. There’s also one scene, with the redhead, that I copied from the comics.

(it’s almost 2 am, I wrote half of this in one go, don’t @ me for mistakes. I’ll edit tomorrow. Maybe.)

---.---

The first time he stopped a suicide, he had just turned thirteen. The suit still felt wrong, too loose in all the places where Jason’s bigger presence would have been a better fit. Too small, too brainy, not brash enough, not good enough.

He would never think himself worthy, but he was all Batman had. There were no other candidates, not ones he could have thrown the job at without risking Bruce’s identity, so he’d have to make do.

But even so, he had been gaining a little confidence over the past few months. His training with Shiva, and Dick’s and Bruce’s focus on making him as ready for the streets as humanly possible, had ensured he never encountered a situation where he couldn’t handle himself, or get back up in time to avoid any casualties.

Except for right now.

“Hey! Don’t do it, please!”

Yeah, maybe yelling at the man precariously balanced on the edge of a how many feet tall building wasn’t his wisest moment. He’d berate himself later. Now was freak out time.

Said man stumbled for a second before regaining his footing and turning to look at Tim. He couldn’t be more than forty, with a bit of an overgrown beard and tired eyes. He had something clutched in one hand, tanned and calloused from work, the other over his chest, probably due to the scare of having a bat suddenly appearing behind him.

“R-Robin…”, he gasped, shook out of whatever reverie he was going through for a second. “W-what… I mean, why are you…?”

‘Okay, Tim, breath. Can’t call B, he’ll notice, get startled and jump. Can I catch him if he does? My grappling hook is made to withstand more than my weight, but if I can’t handle the strain of swinging us both to safety…’

He couldn't risk it.

“Good evening, Mr…?”

Surprise and good manners made the man automatically answer, “Ed. Ed Harrinson.”

Encouraged, Tim took a tiny teeny step forward. Ed’s entire body shock and he leaned backwards. Tim froze, fear keeping his breathing and heartbeat hostages for the time being, stopping the first and kick starting the second.

“Mr Harrinson, I’d like to ask you to step away from the edge? I’ll call an ambulance for you, and…”

“No!”, the man screamed, suddenly over his surprise, a look of determination trying to masquerade his obvious exhaustion. “If you call an’one, I’ll jump.”

Tim wisely kept the ‘you were gonna do it anyway’ to himself. He nodded slowly, hands emerging from the confines of his cape to show Mr Harrinson the lack of a communication device.

“I won’t, then, but may I come closer? Please?”

It was on the last word, high pitched and wavering, that the man cracked. With wary demeanor, he waved him over, pointing to a patch of rooftop a little far but close enough for Tim to feel comfortable- or as comfortable as he’d get, in these circumstances.

As he approached, he could feel the man analyzing him. The little gasp when he stood by his side didn’t go unnoticed.

“You are… smaller than I imag’ned. Too small for a bat. My boy’s taller than you” he mused, likely to himself, but Tim grasped onto that bit of information and clutched at it with both hands, desperately.

“I’m short compared to my peers, so maybe I’m the same age as your son. How old is he?”, he asked, in his most conversational tone. Fear still had a grasp over both his lungs and heart.

Something in the man’s face shifted.

“He… he just turned fifteen.” Older than Tim, then. Ed continued, “He’s… ”, in a second, the sadness was replaced by pride, “he’s grown up p’tty well, if I say so m’self. A fine young man, that kid. He’ll go places.”

For a beat, Tim tried to imagine his own dad here. As much as he’d hate to see Jack in Mr Harrinson’s place, he couldn't help but wonder if he’d be talking about him the same way Ed spoke about his son.

He… didn’t think so. If on the verge of death, thoughts about his son would probably be the farthest from his dad’s mind.

“You sound like you love him very much. He’s a lucky guy” he said sincerely, a tendril of hopefulness still twisted around his stomach. His hands weren’t shaking any longer, finding solace in the fact that the man in front of him didn’t look like he was about to jump right that second.

Mr Harrinson’s face fell.

“Got served an’ unlucky hand, with an old man like me”, his eyes went back to the abyss, to the empty, poor litten streets below them. “Go ‘way, kid. Leave m’ be. Notta business what I do. Gotta do this f’r my kid.”

Fear came back, full force.

“I- Sorry, but I can’t help but think about your son”, he blurted out, the only bit of information he had about the man was his only tendril of hope. “Someone who loves his child as much as you seem to must be a good father. A father that… would be missed dearly, if lost so young.”

Mr Harrinson looked even more devastated. Tim was doing this all wrong, wasn’t he?

“There’s no other way t’ keep’im safe!'' he yelled, and for a minute Tim thought he had decided to jump then and there. Instead, he dropped to his knees, hands to his head, paper still clutched in one fist. “They’ll get to him if I don’t! Once I’m dead, they’ll just leave’im alone!”

Tim crouched next to him, tentative.

“Who is ‘they’, sir? Maybe I could help…”

Ed was already shaking his head.

“Nay, they said not to go to the bats. Kill my boy, they will, if I do. Seen them offing others for less, so I believe them.”

“Ah, but I’m too short to be a bat, am I not?” he smiled, wobbly at best but sincere. “Besides, who’s gonna tell them you spoke to me? I”, he gestured to his mask, “know how to keep a secret.”

He considered for a beat, before tired shoulders fell, defeated. He offered the slip of paper towards him, unseeing eyes on the street below.

Robin read the note carefully, noting the sloppy penmanship and cheap paper as well as the message itself.

“Mr Harrinson…”

“I know”, he whispered, “I know working for the Black Mask wasn’t my best idea. But m’boy needed to eat, and the landlord was gettin’ impatient. And now, for whatever reason, boss wants me dead. And if I make ‘im dirty his own hands, he’ll dirty ‘em twice and send me with my son for company to the other side. Felix is too young, and he’s good. Can’t let ‘im pay f’ his old man m’stakes, ya hear me?”

Tim thought his words over carefully.

“Mr Harrinson… I don’t think this comes from Black Mask himself”, for one, Blackie wasn’t one to avoid blood on his gloves, nor to send such a shitty note. The man lived for the drama, like most A-listers did, and he’d never forgo the aesthetic of an expensive peachment and beautifully worded threat. Also, if he wanted this man gone, he would have put a bullet in his head the second he clocked in; and if it were revenge he was after, he wouldn't have gotten a warning note but his son’s head sent to him instead.

He folded the paper and put it into one of his multiple pockets, free hand going to the man’s shoulder.

“I know Black Mask’s M.O, mister, and this is not it”, no need to spook him further by describing what it was, though. “Probably just a colleague who wanted your position, or has a grudge for whatever reason. And that, I can help you with. If you work with me on this one, we can both make sure Felix has his Dad making breakfast for him tomorrow morning, and all the days after that. After all”, he smiled, no longer uncertain now that he had firm ground to work with, “your son is going places, and he’ll have to be well fed to reach them, right?”

Mr Harrinson’s smile must have had magical properties, Tim thought. There was no other explanation for the way it returned his breath back to his body.

---.----

The next time he saw a jumper, a few months later, he was slightly more ready for it. Bruce had congratulated him on his work with Mr Harrinson, and the subsequent raid they could make on one of Black Mask’s warehouses thanks to the man’s information, but Tim hadn’t been satisfied until he had read every single mission report on the batcomputer about attempted suicides. And succeed ones, too. Need to know what went well and what didn’t, after all.

So when he saw the fifty-something woman crying on top of a tower in City Hall District, he didn’t almost-crash in his attempt to get there in time. He landed softly, making just enough noise to let her know she wasn’t alone, but careful to not startle her.

“It’s a little cold up here, Lady. If you’d like, I can walk you home?”, he tries for cheeky, despite the cold fear nesting in his stomach like a grumpy, spiteful bird.

The woman, sitting by the edge, turned her head to look at him. The movement called attention to her long, strawberry blonde hair, neatly braided, and her pretty diamond earrings. The face under her perfect make up was gaunt and pale, tear tracks cleaning paths of skin to his trained eye.

Despite him interrupting what probably were very private thoughts, she smiled at his approach, kind and polite. It didn’t reach her eyes, but the intent to put him at ease was generous enough.

“I may be a lady, but any adult worth their salt would insist on walking the young child home, instead of the opposite. Besides”, she patted the rooftop under her,” I live here, so it’s not a long walk at all.”

Tim stepped closer, carefully.

“May I sit?”

“I could use the company for a bit”, she accepted, head turning back to the city below.

They sat there for a few minutes in silence, before Tim’s soft voice broke it again.

“Is there anything I can do to help convince you not to do it? Please?”

The lady smiled. “You are a very sweet boy.”

“That’s… not an answer. Can I at least know why?”

“Won’t it torment you, in the future, if we speak now?”, she asked a question of her own, turning to face him again. Despite her words, there was nothing but kindness in those deep green eyes. “If you don’t know me, I’m just another one who jumped. If we talk, I’m afraid I might stay with you long after I’m gone. You are too young for that kind of weight.”

Tim swallowed. 

“That’s easily solved, Miss;”, Dick’s rule of thumb; if unsure, always call a lady Miss before Mrs “don’t do it.”

She spared him a long, meaningful look, and he slumped over.

“Not my best, I know, but I’m kinda freaking out now?” She wasn’t like Mr Harrinson, no motive he could see, no strand to pull and unravel her pain. “Please, just… why?”

She patted one of the hands gripping his own knee. His other hand rushed over hers, sandwiching her cold, slim fingers between his gloved palms.

“There’s nothing left for me. I have a nice job, live in a pretty side of town, have friends, and still… it feels so empty. So… Meaningless. Why even bother?”

Tim chewed on her words silently. He was way out of his depth. A tangible, physical problem? He could solve those, no biggie.

Depression, though… that was a different giant to tackle. Was he even prepared enough to?

A strong gust of wind made the lady with braided hair shiver. Without thought, Tim unclasped his cape and draped it over her slim shoulders.

“Aren’t you cold?” she asked, head tilted like a curious woodland animal. Tim felt strongly protective of her, of this kind, sweet lady, who said she had it all, except the one thing that mattered to her.

“I’m used to it”, he shrugged. “This suit is very warm, but cold air often trickles down from the neckline and… well. Gigs of the job and all that.”

The lady tutted, frowning for the first time since Tim arrived.

“That won’t do, young man. You need a scarf. The nights will only get colder from now on.”

He shrugged again.

“I just… don’t have the time to buy one. And I had one, but… There’s these kids who often hang out by the park, and they were so cold, I just couldn't swing by and ignore them. So I gave them my scarf to share between them. I’m just kinda bummed that I don’t have more to make sure they all stay warm.”

The braided haired lady hummed for a second.

“Well… I knit”, she started, carefully. “I don’t have children or grandchildren to give my final products to, so they’ll go to waste after I’m gone. If you’d take them out of my hands, you’ll do me a favor.” 

Tim wanted to say no, unwilling to make this any easier for her, but the chance of getting her away from the edge was enough to quell his voice.

She went and came back within minutes, a big cardboard box balanced over her shaky arms. He rose to help her, meeting the woman halfway through the roof, a good distance away from the abyss.

“This red one would look good with your suit… oh, and the green one, to keep with the theme! Or maybe the yellow one… Shame pink would be such a bad fit for your colors, because that wool is the best I worked with…”

Tim’s hand carefully took said carf out and looked it over. There were about six others in the box.

“I could take this to those kids I mentioned before… It’d still not be enough for all, but more to share between them means less cold.”

She hummed again, looking at the unfinished projects on the bottom of the box.

“If… If you give me a few days…” she muttered. “I mean, I’m in no rush”, a hand vaguely gestured towards the rooftop’s edge. “I could spare a few days finishing those, and you could take them to these kids you spoke about… and maybe, I can help make a few children less cold with this silly hobby of mine.”

Elated beyond words, Tim nodded vigorously, waxing poetry about her work and about just how excited little Ellie would be with this soft, pretty pink scarf.

His patrol route could use a few detours, after all, if that meant keeping Braided Hair Lady away from her roof.

---.----

He was just returning from a late supply run when he bumped into The Cats.

It was in an alleyway, a block off from Mrs Eloise Denvarow (formerly known as Braided Hair Lady). The older woman had caved after three months knowing each other, of Tim passing by her apartment once every other night to pick up her baked goods or knitted masterpieces, to distribute between street kids and working girls, and told him her name. It was said in passing (“Stop with that ‘Lady’ thing, honey. It’s Eloise”), as if lacking importance, when in reality it meant the world to him. Sure, he’d already known, having run a background check on her the minute he came back to the cave after stopping her from jumping, but there was that implicit vow between them, that she wouldn't tell him her name and jump, wouldn’t make him carry its weight on his shoulders forever, so it was… it was a promise, on her end, a reassurance, and Tim wasn’t even embarrassed that he cried in her arms like a baby for ten minutes.

So here he was, a month after that, still riding that high, when the desperate call from below caught his attention.

There were two teens on the dirty ground, nested among cracked bottles and old newspapers. The girl was lying in the boy’s arms, with him screaming for help.

“Robin! Thank fuck!”, he almost sobs, arms visibly tightening around the girl. Tim wants to ask how he knew to call for him, and if the proximity to Mrs Denvarow’s place was luck or not.

But it wasn’t the time to ask.

The girl was pale, which only highlighted the bruises on her face. Someone with a big fist punched her. It doesn't seem likely, considering just how distraught the other kid is, but he checks his hands just in case; fortunately, too small for that kind of damage.

She’s also breathing erratically and, when he puts a gloved hand to her neck, he realizes just how crazy her pulse is. 

Fear Toxin? Except Scarecrow is still in Arkham as far as he knows, and even if he had gotten away recently, he needs time to develop his precious chemicals. Joker’s Venom and Mad’s Hatter drugs don’t have quite this results, and Ivy doesn’t usually attack street girls just for kicks; they are also too far from her usual turf for her to be a viable suspect.

So, that leaves very few choices.

“Overdose?”, he ventures a guess, hand already fumbling through the pockets on his belt.

The other boy sobs harder, nodding while looking down at the girl in his arms. Tim gently takes the girl from him to position her straighter, to help her down the vial he finally found in his belt. It was supposed to help flush out any chemical in a few minutes, tops; they usually used it when a new type of Crazy Criminal Drug made its way to the streets and they didn’t have the time to properly prepare an antidote. It was strong, and vicious in its path to devoid the body of any and all external agents, which was why it wasn’t a preferred method; who’s to say the civilian in need of a flush isn’t in some important medicine? The Big Flush, as Dick calls it, lacked any kind of finesse or discrimination.

But it was their best shot right now, so there goes nothing. 

There’s silence while they watch the girl’s progress. He doesn’t bother asking if he called for an ambulance; they are obviously minors, probably homeless, and even if the Wayne Foundation takes care of children’s hospital fees, they’d avoid it to keep themselves out of the foster system.

But then, the kid kept talking.

“I… I found her near Grant Park. I… I didn’t know what to do, so I dragged her here. She/” and then he breaks again, hands grasping one of hers, as if letting go meant he was giving up on her and he couldn't bear it.

“Grant Park is only five blocks away,” Tim thinks out loud, mind already a mile away “and Moench’s Row illicit night clinic is about the same distance from there as this place. Why did you bring her here?”

“She… Alley… Oh, her name’s Allison, by the way. And I’m Thomas. Tom.” Introductions, miraculously, seem to do the trick here and calm him down. “Nice to meetcha.”

Tim’s not deterred by his toothy grin, but he has to admit he’s kinda cute. Like, stray cat cute.

Huh. Alley, Tom, cat… Yeah, that checks.

“What happened with Allison?” he presses softly, one arm still keeping Alley up and against his chest, the other hand on her pulse point, taking note of the way the heartbeat seems to be stabilizing. The puking fest was gonna start soon.

“She… It was on purpose.” Tom confesses, eyes going clouded for a while. “She tries to not be home, yknow? I met her in kindergarten, and even then she’d try to hide behind the teacher’s desk in hopes they’d forget about her and close the building with her inside. Anyway, we pretty much live on the streets these days, and Alley… she’s very depressed. I convinced her to see someone a while ago, even stol/ I mean, earned the money for it myself”, he’s quick to correct, eyes glancing up to see if he was smooth enough to cover it; which he wasn’t, but Tim was in favor of letting that small one go, “and they gave her a prescription for antidepressants. She’s been kicking it down the road, but she’s gotten a lot worse and I wouldn't lay off her case about it, so she sneaked back home to get some money from her folks to pay for it.”

By the way the kid looks at her bruised face with unmeasurable guilt, Tim knows she didn’t go unnoticed.

“And… I don’t know. We were supposed to meet up by the Commerce Street Highway, but she was late, so I walked around for a bit and… I saw her there, on a bench. She was/ she was still conscious then, and she told me… she said ‘these aren’t what the doc gave me, but they took the pain away all the same’.” Again, Tom chokes on his own emotions. If he had any free hands, he’d try to put one on his shoulder for comfort. “I don’t even know what she took, or where did she get it from!”

Tim has heard whispers of loan sharks and drug dealres camping toghter by the Fashion Distric, just north of Grant Park, so he can make an informed guess as to how that happened. Also, he now knows what he’ll do the rest of the night, once these kids are safe.

When Tom has gotten a grasp of himself, he pushes again.

“So, why did you bring her here?”

He shrugs, a bit abashed.

“Well… I mean, everyone knows about how Mrs Denvarow is the one giving clothes and food away, and that you help her distribute it. Well, not everyone, but… you know, the street kids. We flagged her building with a yellow skull and everything.”

A yellow skull grafitti, Tim’s mind translates, is the street equivalent of a ‘don’t fuck with this place’ sing. A sort of protective sigil. He wonders how he missed it.

“And… This is kind of your thing, right? So I figured you’d be better prepared to deal with it than some overworked clinic that might even not have enough free equipment to help us. Good think I did, too” he gestures at his friend, whose face is now looking flushed; a sign both of growing health, and of the upcoming puke. Tim’s quick to turn her so her back is to his chest, head tilted down just in case.

As if rehearsed, Alley chose that exact second to empty the contents of her now flushed stomach. Tim would need a sample of that, to catch the responsible dealer.

Tom held her hair away from her face while Tim kept her steady, and she blinked bearily at them after it was done, still not completely lucid but a world away from the girl she was ten minutes ago.

“She’ll still need a hospital.'' Tim informs Tom sternly. The boy had taken his friend in his arms again, softly rubbing her back to help with the uncomfortable ache leftover after puking your guts out. “The Moench’s Row clinic should be able to help with any side effect, but she’s safe for now.”

He nods, thanks Tim again and again and politely refuses his help to take her to the clinic. They part ways, both parties probably thinking this would be the last time they saw each other.

Still, their situation sticks with Tim during the rest of his patrol, and he decides to stop by the clinic, just to check on them. His knuckles still ache from the absolute beating he delivered to the ones who gave Alley the money and sold her the drugs, so he’s in better spirits and hopes to spread it to the kids.

Alley is awake when he visits, and her shy, little smile is enough for the rage inside of Tim to die down. The bad guys dealt with, the civilians safe, everything in its proper place.

He sleeps a bit better that night.

---.----

He almost doesn’t see him. 

Actually, he probably wouldn't have, deeply lost into his own head, had the guy been anything other than a redhead. That exact shade of  orangy-brown auburn, that he would have to pick up from his workbench at Titan’s tower after Bart had decided to ‘keep him company’ during his all-nighters. 

It was ironic, how now he would give anything in the world to have those same strands of hair fucking up his experiments, if only for the impish, ‘please-don’t-kill-me-I’m-an-angel’ smile he would receive in exchange.

“Hey”, he greets, landing softly at the man’s right, sitting a few feet away from him, too tired to even stand up on common ground. “What’s happening?”

He shouldn’t be doing this. He really, really shouldn’t. His own mental health was less than stellar, and even thinking about it made him feel worse. He didn’t deserve to feel bad, not when civilians were in the hospital after his latest fuck up, Cass was missing, Cassie barely hanging in there, the family a mess with Damian’s lovely introduction, and… well. Every other person he knew…

Point being, there must be someone else, in a better inner place, that could speak to this guy. But since no one seemed to be patrolling this route, Tim could only hope to stall him long enough for a more capable vigilante to show up.

The guy looks startled, then angry. He has green eyes, he notices, under the glasses. Not sure why that sticks to him.

“What are you doing here? You’re not going to try to stop me, are you? You’re not going to swing down and catch me in mid air or something, are you?”

He seems defensive, but Tim notices a bit of hesitancy. He has worked with less.

(He wishes he had more energy to do more with what little he has)

“No. If I did, what’s to stop you from doing it again later, or tomorrow? I can’t be with you every second.  If you want to do this, you are going to, no matter how much I don’t want you to. And I don’t want you to, just so we are clear.”

The guy still looks suspicious, but he hasn’t taken that last step forward, so… a win?

“I just needed to sit down for a minute. ‘been thinking about all the ways I’ve screwed up lately, and…”

Auburn-hair deflates a little, turning away from Tim to examine the night sky. “Well, that makes two of us.”

The bat signal lights up the night. His newfound companion looks at it, then him. “Do you need to get that?”

“Nah. Batman will, and if he needs help he’ll call me.” Tim shrugs. He needs a coffee-power-up. He needs to sleep. He needs for his loved ones to not be dead.

He needs to see if there’s anything he can do for this guy.

“So, do you want to tell me why you’re doing this? So someone can go to your family and friends to let them know?”

After all, if it was him who did it (and… wasn’t that food for thought?), he’d like Bruce and Dick to know why. To not… to not blame themselves.

Redhead looks annoyed again. Uh. A short fuse, this one.

“Don’t try any psychology, or try to make me feel guilty about hurting anyone… this isn't about anyone but me.”

He shouldn’t say it, but… “That’s pretty naive,  but whatever. Tell me anyway.” He smirks a bit, then “Unless you’re in a hurry or something.”

He hears the guy (he really should ask his name) as he tells his story. A cold, clinical part of his mind recognizes the symptoms described almost unconsciously by the guy as depression. He would know, after all. The other part of him, the part that made him Robin, that made him human, discarded the label; there was much more to this guy than his illness, and he would treat him like it.

“So here I am,” he finishes, now sitting side by side with Tim, both their legs hanging above the bustling city. “Now’s when you tell me how stupid this is. That other people have much bigger problems, there’s hunger and war, and I’m weak because my problems are nothing next to stuff like that.”

Tim thinks of a father, desperately thinking his death would save his son’s life, when in fact it would have only made it worse. He thinks of a woman, so full of love and warmth, looking into the abyss and feeling empty inside. He thinks of a couple of kids, one hanging to life with nails and teeth, the other hanging to her just as fiercely.

He thinks about himself. About looking at a future version of himself, hating what he sees, and deciding to drown the bud before it can even flower. He thinks of sickly green water, of cloning equipment in a laboratory, of a phone falling to the ground after delivering him with more bad news.

He’s still in a bad place, still probably not the most capable person to be doing this, but a part of him is sure this is the right answer. The only answer.

“No. Your problems are worse than anyone else’s, because they are yours. I’ve... felt bad like you have, and some pretty bad things have happened to me.”

Red hair looks as tired as Tim feels, so it’s a surprise that he has enough energy to glance at him worriedly, hand stretching a bit in his direction in a half-formed attempt to comfort.

“You guys make it look so easy, swinging around, having fun… Things get bad for you, too?”

Tim looks down, and smiles. It’s a sad, bitter thing. He thinks about parents lost before ever connecting to them, about a girlfriend going away, a sister lost to the madness of their lives, about two best friends gone, one even dying in his arms. 

He gives no details. Doesn’t talk about it all, just shares a little bit of himself. It’s only fair, after hearing about this guy’s demons. Misery loves company, doesn’t it?

“So what do you do? How do you deal with it?” the guy asks when he’s done, looking at Tim by the corner of his not-very-dry eyes.

Tim forces himself to remember. “One of the things I’ve learned is that it gets bad for everyone sometimes, Superman, Batman… everyone. I remember that I’m not alone, that things do get better. Sometimes on their own, most times when you work at them. And when I have trouble remembering those things, I find people to talk to.”

Most of those were dead, but Tim is hit with the epiphany that not all of them are. He still has people. He still…

“And you’ve got people like that? That you can talk to?” asks the guy, tone both worried and hopeful. Tim stands up, does his best to look calm.

“Yeah. Your folks, and old friend, even a trained counselor you’ve never met before… someone who has a totally different perspective because they’re not as close to your problems as you are. Maybe they give you advice, and that’s great… or maybe they just listen. Sometimes, that’s all you need. Anyway, that’s how I deal with it when things suck. And it works. Want to come down from there and give it a try?”

The guy gets back to his feet, as Tim watches from behind. Having been in this situation before, the fear grabbing a hold of him isn’t new, but it's different. He thinks he's too worn down. It takes the edge off of any emotion. 

Except hope. Hope still hurts like a sharp knife when it’s snatched away. He prays it won’t be, right now.

Green eyes (Jason- that’s who they reminded him of) look down, deep in thought. Then he turns, smiles at Tim. There’s hope in him too.

“Yeah, why not?”

They get down together. He gives him a few numbers and they have breakfast together. The guy promises to call his English teacher, at least. Tim promises himself to call his brother.

At least, he still has Dick.

---.----

He’s been putting off doing his rounds since he came back, he knows. But…

It changed him, a bit. Going around the world, dealing with his grief while staying on his toes, ready to break down one second and having to field off attacks from all sides the next, with the Demon’s honeyed whispers echoing in his ear and mind. 

He’ll never tell anyone, just how tempting it had been. How much he had wanted to reach for that offered hand. To lay his head on someone’s shoulder and let the responsibility bleed from his.

Tim will never tell anyone, but he’ll always know. And it’ll always make him hate himself a little bit more.

So, he’s different now. And he’s scared- that the people he gave hope to, that he talked with, that he could never stop thinking about, even halfway across the world- that they won’t like this new, worn down him.

That Mr Harrinson the Good Father, Braided Hair Lady and her sweaters, the inseparable Stray Cats, the girl with the bright yellow cardigan, the kid with the scarred wrists, the woman with beautiful star-like freckles that she’ll hopefully pass on to her baby, the gentle giant man with calloused hands, the petite but fierce young teen with defiant eyes and dead name, the soft spoken girl with the loudest laugh, auburn-haired boy and his hopeful and sympathetic green eyes… and so, so many more. They all knew him, maybe not at his best, but certainly better than now. The boy that kept them from jumping had been a bright, magical Robin. The teen that came back to their city was dark, weary Red Robin. It felt kinda like he had cheated them, returning this broken version of himself to their doorsteps.

But he had to go check on all of them. Even if Cass (and it was such a relief, that even after he lost everything else, the return of his sister could at least be a speck of light in the mist of misery surrounding him) had promised to do so, there were so many of them… and she couldn't possibly remember everyone, all the time. And if anyone had fallen through the gaps… if anyone had stood on a rooftop, waiting for their Robin to save them, only to think ‘nobody cares’ as he didn’t show up…

Tim gets sick only thinking about it. If it did happen, then he needs to know. He has to carry their names with him, that’s the least he can do for failing them.

So he’ll go check on them… anytime now. Soon. The moment he gathers enough energy to climb back to his feet and get his grapple hook out.

...The city looks full of life, beneath him. Like it feels the return of its Knight. The end of the internal quarrel among it’s vigilantes, that almost tore it all apart. The relief in Nightwing, the hesitant peace in Red Hood, the mellowing of Robin.

(He was feeling poetic tonight, in the worst ways)

Maybe it also feels Red Robin’s emptiness. Maybe that’s why it's so lively down there, like the ground is calling to him, just as it did when Ra’s broke the window with his body.

He thinks... he won’t have to check on anyone, if he jumps. And that way, there will be no name to carry with him to his grave.

“Robin!”

“Stop!”

“Don’t do it, please!”

He startles. Hadn’t even noticed when he got to his feet, nor that one of them was hanging over the abyss. The fact that he wasn’t alone on that rooftop any longer hadn’t even breached his usually perfect spatial awareness.

They didn’t call for him, but the voices sounded distraught, they were close, and he was a former Robin, so he turned around, tired, but with obedience and service too ingrained in him to consider denying help to whoever it was.

It turned out, he wouldn't need to go make his rounds any longer. His rounds had come to him.

There were… too many people on this roof. It was way too crowded.

“Robin!”

It was one voice now, not a mixture of them, so he could identify the one yelling his former alias. Allison broke from the mob of people (and there were more still, filling in from the open rooftop door, like a never-ending stream…) to run to him, looking like she might have just jumped into his arms, if not for Tom clutching her hoodie to stop her a few feet from him. Good move, considering he was still balancing precariously on the edge.

“Alleycat?” he whispered, a little blown. She looked so different (magenta looked amazing on the tips of her hair, and she totally pulled off that lip piercing), but he’d recognize those eyes anywhere. He’d been so relieved, when she first opened them after that dangerous overdose.

“We were so fucking worried, dude”, came from Tomcat just behind her, still gripping her hoodie (still keeping her safe; some things never change).

“I…”

“Where were you?” Maddie, not longer yellow but still wearing a cute cardigan, stepped up too.

“I’m… I’m not Robin”, he blurts out. They… knew it was him?  It… like, obviously there was a new Robin, Damian was (still, but probably not for much longer) smaller than him, but to immediately know that he was…

“Yeah, no shit. I’d know that long hair and noodle limbs of yours anywhere, kid. Known you too long to be fooled. And the new kid’s really trigger happy with that lon’nife of his... You’re still the Robin I prefer, and fuck if I understand the name passing you heroes do” Mr Harrinson spoke from the back of the crowd, one hand clutching his kid’s shoulder, the other arm around…

“Braided Hair Lady?”

Eloise smiles at him, soft and warm as ever, a little shy when his eyes go to the arm hugging her close and back to her. He recognizes some of her handmade scarfs around the necks of plenty of people on the roof. 

“I… wasn’t aware you all knew each other.”

A petite young teen steps forward, walking until they were shoulder-to-shoulder with the Strays.

“Most of us met through the app, and then introduced the others. There’s more, of course, but not everyone could meet here. Samantha’s baby was born just two months ago, so she chose to stay home, but we promised her pictures, so you’ll have to say cheese soon birdboy. Also, I found my name. I’m Cal.”

Allison’s smile broadened and she sneaked an arm around Cal’s waist.

“They are the new Straycat. Calico cat’s are the cutest shit ever, aren’t they?”

Well… Having someone as badass as Cal watching Tom and Alley’s back would sure make Tim feel a lot better about both kids being out in the streets. 

Were they still on the streets? He’d need to find out and fix that, soon.

Then it hit him. “What app?”

Auburn-hair smiled from his place, at the front of the crowd just behind the Cats.

“Felix over there,” he pointed over his shoulder at Mr Harrinson’s son, who smiled shyly at Tim, eyes shining in gratitude and admiration like they always did when Tim did his rounds and checked on his dad, “defended you in a GothamHeroes forum once. Some bratty douchebag was complaining about you landing over his car or something and this kid went for his fucking troath.”

“I was in that chat too,” spoke Tom, smiling a little too savagely for a kid that sweet. “He tore the idiot to shreds, speaking about how you saved his dad’s life and took it upon yourself to make sure he was still okay even weeks after you met. I mentioned how you saved Alley and Mrs Denvarow, we exchanged numbers… then we met Cal during one of our rounds handing out Mrs D’s scarfs and food. They were weary of everyone else, but trusted us because they heard you talk about the clothes and baked goods... And Cal’s friend Gina worked with Samantha on the streets and told them about her story...”

“Soon, it seemed like people personally saved by you were just… popping out of the snow like daisies” Blair laughed, and it was still the loudest, brightest noise. The night seemed a little clearer, the air a little fresher for it. “Felix made his own private chat and added us, and we added everyone else we knew… The word went around about it, and more and more people joined in…”

“It’s really a wonder how you had any time to fight crime, seeing how often you were apparently comforting jumpers on the roofs” Ailbert, still as gigantic and gentle as always, raised a hand from the middle of the group. He had a little girl on his shoulders, probably the baby niece he had taken in after his sister’s death. 

“Then the new kid appeared and Gotham went to hell on a basket, and no one saw you around any longer”, Elijah, wrists no more scarred than the last time he saw him, his arm tangled with Maddie’s, went on. “We were… well, we were a bit confused.”

“Speak for yourself, Cal jumped Red Hood one night, held him at knife point and demanded to know what the fuck happened to our Robin. We were like, zero chill.”

“Sorry, they did what?” Tim was definitely in the twilight zone now. 

“No thoughts, head empty, only murder”

...Tim needed to give Jason a quick call. Also sign Cal up for anger management. And probably, judging by the way both Alley and Tom were looking at them, get one of the adults to give them the talk.

Mrs Eloise smiled at him, and like always it served to calm his nerves. That woman was a different kind of magic than Alfred, but magic indeed. “Anyway, dear, what matters is that we were worried about you. And then this incredible young man, Aaron,” she waved at him, and he winked one of his green eyes in response, “suggested we kept in closer contact with one another, so anyone who spotted you could inform the others.”

Aaron shrugged, his auburn mane of hair bobbing with the movement. “It just seemed like it’d be easier to have an alarm set up, since messaging everyone would take so long… and then someone suggested making a map of Gotham so we could have clearer routes for the kids handing out Mrs Denvarow’s stuff… and someone wanted a shared blackboard to write theories on where the fuck you were with others… and a few demanded a space to share photos, possible sightings or old selfies with you… It kinda spiralled and I thought it’d be less of a chaotic mess if I made an app that could do all of that, instead of all of us using multiple apps for the different fixtures everyone asked for… Since this is Gotham, we also added some Rouge Alarm for whenever a criminal was set loose. It helped keep us safe, and if we knew when crime was happening, we could pay attention to which heroes answered the call…”

“And then, you fought that firefly guy the other day”, Felix said, still by his dad’s side, still looking as awed as ever when looking at tim. “I was in the crowd, and I recognized you within a minute.”

“I don’t really understand technology that well, and the group chat was such a mess that day” Ailbert lamented, but he was still smiling. They all were.

That hit Tim then, hard. 

They all looked so happy to see him. To have him back. They had been waiting for him to be back, banded together to make sure they’d all know when he did.

“You looked so sad the last time we saw you” Blair added softly, sadly. “And… when you saved Aaron, you told him about such sad things…”

Elijah winced “And I heard the Midnighter fell from Wayne Tower a few weeks ago, but then he was never seen around again, and your suit looks kinda similar, so that was probably really you… and, that fall…”

“We were very worried” repeated Eloise, but her eyes didn’t lose their warmth. “But you’re back now, and we can keep track of you and each other now, so it’s all good. It’s wonderful to have you back, love.”

This was an out of body experience.

Something must have shown on his face, because Cal snorted.

“We adore you, you dumbass. You are our hero.”

Alley smiled. “You are our Robin.”

Tim fell into her arms, and away from the roof’s edge. The rest of the crowd was upon them in seconds, all eager to pat his back or joke about the cowl hiding his hair from their hands.

He met eyes with Aaron, over Alley’s shoulder. He looked like the hope Tim had helped plant in his heart all those months ago had flowered, and the petals filled his heart.

(He was feeling poetic tonight, in the best ways)

“You should download the app too, so you always have someone to talk to. Look it up. It’s called BirdWatchers, because we’ll always look up and out for you. Because when we wanted to jump, you lended us your wings to fly instead.”

It was like this fucker wanted Tim to cry.

“Welcome home, Red Robin.”

[forever--rain]

A Master List of Ever’s Fics

G-Rated:

Wind-Songs in the Pines

Pairings: Zutara, minor Sukka

Summary: Life on idyllic Kyoshi Island hasn't been the same for Katara since her mother passed away. Still, she has high hopes for the future: college, a career, world travel... Confident in her intelligence and armed with a keen sense of confidence, Katara aims to accomplish all of this and more. But always on the periphery is Zuko with his knife-sharp intelligence and his knack for showing up whenever there's trouble. Katara knows what he represents, and it's nothing that bodes well for her plans.

Critical Information: This is an Anne of Green Gables-inspired AU! (No background knowledge of AOGG necessary.) REALLY fun, super sweet! Give this baby some love!

Status: In progress

The Answer

Pairings: Zutara

Summary: Mai, Katara, and the moments where yes was not the answer. (And the moment where it was the only answer.)

Status: Completed; short one-shot

T-Rated:

All the Lights are Shining

Pairings: Zutara, minor Sukka, minor Tyzula

Summary: The amber-eyed woman can’t help the smirk that tugs at her lips. She’s looking to help Zuko to do something of a one-eighty in his love life. That means any girl he gets involved with must also be a one-eighty from Mai. Though Azula treasures Mai, loves her dearly, even, she and Zuko had been a poor match, a miscalculation that Azula does not intend to make again.

“Listen,” Azula says with a sigh. “He comes off surly and prickly, but he’s not. He’s shy and he lacks the confidence to talk to pretty girls. If you’re interested in him, you’ll have to make the first move.”

Blue Eyes scoffs a laugh. “I’ve dated guys like your brother before,” she says. “I won’t make that mistake again. Hard pass.”

--

Zuko just wants to get through the winter solstice without acknowledging its existence. Thanks to Uncle, Azula, and a secret society, he may just end up getting into the holiday spirit and finding exactly what he wasn't looking for in the first place.

Critical Information: Rating may change

Status: In progress

Your Soul has Crushed Mountains

Pairings: Minor Zutara, minor Sukka

Summary: “It never turns out to be what people make it out to be does it?” she says. “Life, I mean. Five years ago we were all just trying to make it to the next day in one piece and now…”

“Now we don’t know what to do with the multitude of days that follow.”

____

Or: Five years post-war, six young women learn the advantages of being what and who they are.

Critical Information: A post-war fix-it fic that focuses on female friendships and giving the ladies of ATLA better endings than the creators gave them. Because we all know Bry.ke shafted them. It’s my intention to keep romantic storylines to a minimum, but there will be some because I am a hopeless Zutara and Sukka shipper.

Status: In progress

Partners in Learning

Pairings: Zutara

Summary: All of Izumi’s teachers prior to this one have used the term “partners in learning.” But never before has it seemed true. And now, here he is, eyeballs deep in markers and glitter glue, somehow the most involved parent in the classroom.

----

In which Izumi idolizes her new teacher and Zuko falls a little bit in love.

Critical Information: single dadko; minor character death

Status: Completed; long one-shot

Kisses

Pairings: Zutara

Summary: A series of Zutara kisses inspired by prompts given to me on Tumblr.

Status: In progress

Ten Strides in the Right Direction

Pairings: Zutara, minor Sukka

Summary: These coming days will bring darkness and destruction, but if these little flecks of happiness continue to blaze through the bleak blackness, then nothing that is bad will prevail.

Critical Information: Book 3 AU

Status: Completed

M-Rated

Covered in You

Pairings: Zutara, mentions of Sukka

Summary: Zuko can’t keep a Southern Water Tribe ambassador to save his life. Ten years post-war and he’s gone through eight of them. They all keep leaving to get married and start families. The Fire Lord is getting desperate.

Critical Information: Ambassador Katara and Fire Lord Zuko; post-canon fix-it; so much pining it’s a forest...like...a REALLY dense forest

Status: Completed

Lost in You Still

Pairings: Zutara, minor Sukka, minor Kata.ang, minor Ma.iko

Summary: Something unknown and unspoken is entombed underneath it all. It’s calling to her, daring her to burrow deeper, enticing her with the temptation to unbury something well-hidden and deeply felt. And Zuko has long been such an enigma, such a beacon in her life that Katara dares, just for one moment, to reach out and touch that unknown emotion, brushing the edges of it with her subconscious.

____

The night after the final Agni Kai sends out shockwaves that ripple into the future and demolish several idealized views of destiny.

Critical Information: Infidelity, major character death, post canon fix-it except I set everything on fire and it hurts. If you’d like to read this and want a hand to hold, my ask box and DMs are open.

Status: Complete

A Delicate Balance

Pairings: Zutara, minor Sukka

Summary: Katara is a person of layers and complexity as much as Zuko is, but something about the way he casts his golden eyes at her often makes her feel like he can peel her defenses back and see right to the center of her soul. Exchanging one glance with him can induce her to feel utterly bare and startlingly seen—for everything that she is.

There are some things Katara doesn’t talk to Zuko about. The way she feels when he looks at her is one of them.

--

Or, the twenty-four hours that change the dynamics of a relationship.

Critical Information: Modern AU, friends to lovers

Status: Completed

[everyhowlmarksthedead]

❛ MY OTHER HALF ❜

✨ REQUEST: nose si voy tarde però bueno, espero que no. i would like to request (obviously if that is okay for you) a headcanon with angel x reader of the day of their wedding, like súper súper fluffy.

✨ MADE BY: @artofvamps

WORDS: about 2k.

❚❙ A/N: this writing hasn’t been edited, you may find some grammar mistakes, I’m sorry about that. If you find a description about body or a word out of place, or something that it makes you feel uncomfortable / unrepresented, let me know by a private message and I will change it delighted ❤

❚❙ Especial thanks to my lovely @angelreyesgirl for helping me with this wonderful masterpiece 🖤✨

❚❙ GIF credits: to the amazing @angels-reyes.

❚❙ ANGEL REYES MASTERLIST.

❚❙ MASTERLIST.

❚❙ JOIN MY TAG LIST.

Never in your life you could think about having a most perfect wedding, Angel didn't care about it too much, being enough for him to see you happy.

The most magical place you have ever been. Especially when the sun is almost falling, around five pm.

From the window of his room, you can see the backyard perfectly decorated by Creeper and Riz. They didn't lie when they told you that would be amazing.

White and red roses everywhere, forming vines wrapping the wooden beams of the altar. Over the guests' chairs, there are six fairy lights, giving some more intimacy when the night has come; and a red carpet in the hallway, over the grass.

All your friends are there, mixed with the Mayans, waiting for you.

Your hands are trembling, alone in Taza's room, while you hear some voices and laughs outside. You can't help but take another look of yourself in the mirror.

The white dress fits your body perfectly, falling from your chest to the floor.

The girl at the shop called it ‘a-line wedding dress’. You don't care about the name, but about the fact that you look like the most beautiful girl. Your hair is tied on top of your head, behind a delicate silver tiara and small red crystals in it. Soft make-up, that Bishop's Old Lady did for you, just like your future husband likes.

Felipe is run of words when he comes to the room, but you can see what he thinks in his eyes, about to cry.

You know that he would like that Marisol could see you marrying her son. She would love to see the man Angel turned himself into since he met you three years ago.

“Hey, I’m Angel Reyes, and you know what? You’ll be my wife one day”.

He wasn’t wrong.

But he’s not going to lie. He has been the whole night having nightmares about you running away from him; about you deciding that you didn’t want a life with him.

Ezekiel and Coco have been awake too, comforting him whenever the doubts hit his mind.

Holding Felipe’s arm, he guides you downstairs to the outside, feeling your legs shaking and your heart about to explode. You have doubts too. You’re scared of him taking a step back at the last moment.

Although every bad feeling disappears from the two of you, as soon as you lay eyes with each other.

Angel is about to cry. So are you.

For you, for him, there's no one else around your orbit. Just the two of you. Him waiting at the wedding altar, watching you walk over the red carpet perfectly placed on the ground.

And, damn. You thought that Angel couldn't look better, until you have seen him wearing that suit.

A black suit, covering the immaculate white shirt under a silver waistcoat with mayan symbols tissues in it. His hair is perfectly brushed to the back of his head and his beard is giving you desires of kissing it.

Seriously, it should be illegal to look this good.

But the detail that steals all your attention is the fact that he isn't wearing his characteristics rings. That big silver cross in his right pinkie and a signet ring with the Virgin of Guadalupe in his ring finger.

Felipe kisses your cheek, to intertwine his son's hand with yours.

You can't help but use your free hand to clean the tears falling down his cheeks, making Angel chuckles softly. You are always taking care of him with the most minimal details, showing him how much you love him, before leaning forward to kiss the tip of his nose.

“You changed me. You changed my life. You came with that smile, illuminating all the darkness around me. You've accepted me, advised me, shown me the road to happiness, put me first. You've never, ever, judged me. You've healed me, you've healed my wounds, my soul, my heart. You gave me the opportunity I always thought I would never have… You, mi reina, have loved me unconditionally without asking for anything back. I don't have enough words to express how I feel every morning when I wake up with you under my arms, when I kiss you, when I see you dancing in our kitchen, when you… look me with these beautiful eyes as if I was the fucking Big Bang happening in front of you”. Bringing your hands to his mouth, Angel kisses every knuckle of them. “I can't imagine a single day without you, without hearing your laugh, without reading your texts desiring me a good day when you wake up and I'm already gone. I don't wanna live a single day without hearing you singing in the shower, without riding my bike with you behind my back, without you smacking my ass and screaming ‘daaaamn, this is all mine’! You make me happy like no one could do. You make me feel important like no one could do. And I promise you, fuck… I swear it to God, that I'm gonna give you all of me. Every second of every minute, of every hour of every day till the end of my time. I don't want to live without you”.

Now, it's Angel who has to clean your tears, causing some laughs between the guests. And he can't help but wrap you with his arms in a tight, tight hug. The warmest and dearly hug he has ever given you.

“I didn't know what love was until I met you. I didn't know which was the meaning of life until I met you. Mi rey. My other half. It was you, and only you, since I saw you the first time sitting on your bike, smoking and with that face of grumpy idiot”. The guests laugh again, because they all know that pose. “And then you standed up and started to walk, and I thought ‘what the hell is wrong with his leg’”. More laughs. The loudest comes from your future husband. “But I would never change you for anyone else. We've been through bad days and good days. Shitty nights and funny nights. I would never change my life with you for anything else. No one has ever made me happy as you do every moment of my existence. You're the most awesome, incredible, loyal and lovely man I have ever met. You fight for me, you take care of me, you protect me. You make me smile whenever I feel insufficient, whenever I feel sad, whenever I feel that I don't belong anywhere. My home, my life, my happiness is wherever you are, Angel Reyes”.

Then, Taza as the priest looks at the two of you, before guiding his dark eyes towards you. “Would you want to take Angel Ignacio Reyes in hol—”. He can't finish, being interrupted by the man in question clicking his tongue. “Of fucking course she wants”. Gently grabbing your chin with a hand and placing the other on the back of your head, Angel kisses you by pecking your lips, making you laugh.

But Leti breaks the moment, coughing exaggeratedly. You asked her to be the flower girl and she has been practicing the last month, to don’t mess up her task. The most important one, actually.

For the next two hours, you can’t stop looking at your hand tangled with Angel’s, and the two fresh golden rings in your fingers. To other people they could be just two pieces of jewelry, but for you it’s the purest way to show him your love, your support, and your unconditional trust in him.

And for the next two hours, Angel can’t stop kissing your face all around. Going down with furtive kisses on your neck, your shoulder, your knuckles; not being able to take off from you his other arm around your waist, tightly closed to push you next to him.

Coco and Gilly are in charge of the speech, knowing that it’s going to be more funny than you thought, when they get up from their chairs drunk as fuck after too many shots of tequila. “Yo, mami… you really got the golden dick”. “Man!” Gilly punches him on the shoulder, making him strumble with his own feet and having to grab the other’s jacket to not fall. “I’m speaking the truth! Who was gonna think that he would get the girl to this point, ah?” “Not me”. “Me neither”. “You jealous, ah, motherfuckers?” Angel tosses them a napkin, causing the laugh of everyone around you. “Seriously, girl… How you do it to st—”.

“Enough?” Leti whispers to EZ, sitting by her side. The younger Reyes nods in silence, getting up, making Creeper and Riz a sign to take them off from the center of the yard; between curses in spanish and in some kind of invented language because of the alcohol.

“Hey, brother, I just want to tell you that by far this is the happiest moment of my life. You don’t deserve anything but all the love and the affection, and we all know that only her can give it to you”. You’re starting to think that EZ’s purpose is making Angel cry, because his eyes are being filled up with a bunch of tears now. “Our lives haven’t been easy, you know that… And you have put all the weight on your shoulders since ever, but I’m proud of you. Of who you are. Of calling you my brother. Mi sangre. I don’t desire you anything but happiness, Angel”.

“Yeah, and God bless your patience, sister”. Leti can’t help but add that remark, trying to not laugh when she finds you nodding energetically, before kissing your husband’s tears running down his cheek.

The big toast echoes all around the ranch, in the meantime that the prospects from Yuma and Stockton bring the cake. One of them. That’s the main, a three-story cake of black and white chocolate with your names drawn in red. Canche’s wife has made it for you. She’s an amazing pastry.

And you thought that Angel wouldn’t do it. HE PROMISED YOU ONE HUNDRED TIMES.

But that piece of shit were lying,

Stamping a piece of cake on your face, your husband quickly grabs your wrists to avoid you punch him, or do the same to him. As you sob between chuckles, keeping your eyes closed, Angel licks your lips with the tip of his tongue. “Mi dulce, mi favorito”.

“You promised me…”

“Ah, ah… I promised that I wouldn’t smash YOUR face IN the cake. And I didn't”.

After cleaning yourself and changing the heavy dress for another one that fits your silhouette to the perfection, you are ready to give your husband the last surprise of your wedding.

“Are you takin' me to a dark corner?” “Stop asking, Angel… You'll see”.

At the front yard, a baseball bat and a ball awaits. “What's that, baby?”

“Sh… I throw you the ball, and you hit it, okay?”

So there you are, watching Angel in position as in his old times, when he used to play in highschool.

You throw it.

He hits it.

And in just one second, the distance between you gets caught up by a pink powder, almost staining your clothes.

Angel is in shock. The bat falls from his hand. Eyes widened. Parted lips. His skin bristled, as his cheeks got wet again because of the tears.

“Felicidades, papi”.

He can't stop crying, embracing you with all his strength to his chest. Your husband can't believe anything that is happening today. All he has ever wanted is happening in a sight.

“The day we met, you told me that one day I would be your wife. And I told you that you looked like the father of my future children”.

[narutogwriting]

I’m Sorry I Have to Go

Pairing: No romantic pairing, but interactions between Sakumo and Kakashi; mainly about Sakumo Hatake

CW: Suicide

Length: 3.8k+

TRIGGER WARNING! THIS FIC MAY BE VERY TRIGGERING TO THOSE WHO DEAL WITH SUICIDE OR SUICIDAL IDEATION. PLEASE USE YOUR BEST DISCRETION AS THIS FIC DEALS WITH SENSITIVE TOPICS

Inspired by my attempt to get in Sakumo’s head and to try and figure out what he was thinking. Also an attempt to help me process the suicide of my friend. Loosly inspired by a song I wrote about my friend’s suicide trying to get into his head when it happened.

“I’m going to do my best, you know?” 

Sakumo sat at the gravesite. He didn’t know if there was any point to it, didn’t know if he believed in an afterlife, or if there was an afterlife, if she could even hear him.

Maybe he was doing it more for his own peace of mind. And if that was the only benefit that came from talking at her grave, well, that was okay with him. But just in case she could hear him, he wanted her to know.

“If only you could have seen him. He’s so tiny. I didn’t know anything could be so small.” He sighed, running his hands through his hair. “I’ll be the best father I can be to him. I’ll set a good example, and love him so much. I’ll love him enough for the both of us. I’d do anything for him. Just you see…”

~

Sakumo was a phenomenal ninja, well known and well respected throughout the village. Even at such a young age, Kakashi could see that. These weren’t memories that Kakashi would remember as he got older, as much as he wished he would. But he remembered the feeling, remembered what it was like to have all eyes on them at all times, every time they went out. 

Besides being a natural talent, Sakumo was kind. Kakashi remembered that well, and it was clear in the few pictures he had of Sakumo. Some people just had that kind of face. It was just another reason that Sakumo was so beloved in the leaf.

Sakumo was much prouder of his legacy for being kind than he was for his abilities. It was something he wanted, more than anything, to pass on to Kakashi. “Anyone can become a strong ninja with hard work and dedication.” He would tell his son before the young boy could even talk. “And there are lots of benefits to being strong. You can protect others, save them.” 

He gave a crinkled smile as Kakashi grabbed his finger in his tiny little hand, teething on it. “But I’ll tell you something. It’s not knowledge that too many people have. But you can save people, too, by being kind. Being a good friend can save someone’s life just as much as being a good ninja can.”

Sakumo hadn’t become a ninja because he enjoyed fighting or killing; he became a ninja because he enjoyed helping others. Being a shinobi was just another way he could do that. Whether he was working on a mission or home in the village, Sakumo was always doing his best to help someone. 

Despite how deeply he loved those around him, there was a distance between Sakumo and those in the village. He was revered and loved, but a heart like Sakumo’s was rare, almost too rare. The very thing he was loved for was what kept people from being able to get too close; they couldn’t understand him, the way that he thought, how he saw the world. It never bothered Sakumo too much, though, as long as those around him were safe and happy.

Sure, Sakumo’s life could feel lonely sometimes without those deep connections, but he had a purpose. And he’d had that connection with Kakshi’s mom. Though their time together was too short, way shorter than he ever would have imagined, he was grateful for it. And he could spend the rest of his life building that bond with his son. 

Kakashi was always a quiet, serious child, though. He hadn’t inherited Sakumo’s natural affection or ability for seeing the best in people. That much had been clear when they’d met Might Duy and Guy for the first time. Sakumo had been baffled by the way Kakashi had so openly and blatantly questioned Guy’s worth and abilities.

While he’d put him in his place in front of the ninja, back at home, Sakumo couldn’t help but to bring it up again. He went to Kakashi’s bedroom, sitting on his bed. 

“I’m sorry,” Kakashi told his dad again, meeting his eye steadily. He always did own up to his mistakes. “I didn’t mean to be disrespectful, or to dishonour you.”

Sakumo shook his head, couldn’t help but sigh. “This isn’t about me, Kakashi.” He said, hands folded and hanging between his legs. “It’s not even necessarily about that boy, either.” He thought over his words carefully, wanted to make sure that whatever he said, it was something that stuck with his son.

“You know, I think Guy will grow up to be a great ninja, Kakashi. He has something you don’t have.” That got the young boy’s attention. “He has heart. You were born with your father’s natural talent,” He gave him a sly grin. “But if you don’t have the heart that Guy does, what’s your purpose? What is the use for all that talent?”

Sakumo patted Kakashi’s leg, not missing the skeptical look on his son’s face, and he couldn’t help but chuckle. The skeptic in him; that was all his mother.

“And besides,” Sakumo continued. “Even if he doesn’t become a great ninja, who cares? What does it matter? But do you know what does matter?” He paused, making sure Kakashi was really listening. “It matters how you made that little boy feel earlier. You know, I was proud to see you step in to protect him against those ninja… But I think that he would have rather let them beat him into the ground than have you look at him with such disdain, to look down on him because he didn’t know how to fight back. You don’t know what he’s been through, why he’s trying so hard to do something that he’s not naturally good at. You don’t know his purpose, or whether or not he’s hanging on by a thread. If the words you said to Guy were the last ones he’d ever heard, would you be happy with that?”

Getting up, Sakumo walked to the door slowly. Hand on the doorknob, he stopped. “You never know when you’ll see someone for the last time, Kakashi. You never know who needs a kind word. Whatever you do in life, make sure every moment counts.”

It was ironic, Kakashi would think to himself over the years. The philosophy that shaped the way Sakumo treated others could have been the same one that saved his life.

~

He knew his role as a shinobi. He knew everything that this mission meant, how much the Leaf needed him to succeed. But he couldn’t do it. He wouldn’t. 

Sakumo would love to pretend like it was a hard decision, like he had even considered going through with the mission rather than saving his comrades.

But he didn’t. It wasn’t a question in his mind. The lives of his fellow shinobi were on the line, and in this instance, it wasn’t worth completing the mission at the expense of losing them.

And Sakumo knew, he knew that the decision would be controversial, knew that he would suffer the consequences. He was going to upset a lot of people on top, but it was worth it. Being a shinobi meant making hard decisions, and this was part of that. The importance of the mission didn’t outweigh the weight of his comrades' lives, and so he saved them.

And while he knew the backlash that would come from his decision, he never could have imagined just how viciously the village he loved, even the friends he saved, would turn against him. 

Sakumo had seen a lot of evil in his life. So much violence and chaos, complete disarray. He’d see death and destruction, people dedicating their whole existence to hurting others. But it’d always been an “us vs them” mentality. It was much easier, he thought, to hate someone you didn’t know, who you had no connection to.

But these people, this village; they were Sakumo’s heart. His whole reason, his purpose for being. They were why he’d become a ninja in the first place. He’d only wanted to protect the people that he loved so dearly.

And they used to love him.

The silence on their way home was deafening. Sakumo didn’t miss the dirty looks his teammates were shooting him. He understood, in a way, but in others, he was so confused. He expected a sense of frustration, some cognitive dissonance. The mission failed, but they didn’t perish; there should be anger and happiness, shouldn’t there? At the very least, relief that they were alive.

But no. He could only feel the anger, the hatred burning within them.

Reporting back about the mission’s failure was even worse. He’d been prepared for the yelling, the way that it was hammered into him just how badly he’d screwed up. He didn’t know that there would be names thrown at him. Failure. Disgrace. Shame.

He’d left the office not even knowing if he would still be a shinobi after this. It was almost visible, the way he walked home with the weight of his actions on his shoulders. He walked slouch, tucked into himself. He would make up for this. He couldn’t regret what he’d done, not now, not ever. But somehow, he would make it right. 

~

And he thought he could. He really did. Things had to get worse before they could get better. But they only seemed to get worse and worse and worse. Over the course of a week, word spread about what Sakumo did, and his life changed completely, seemingly irrevocably.

“Hello, Aiko,” he called to the owner of the fruit stand as he picked up a crown melon, observing the fruit for bruises or breaks. They’re his favorite, and he always bought them from the same lady. 

But Aiko isn’t smiling at him, she doesn’t say hello back. He glances over to her, and his heart drops to see her glaring at him. “Thanks to you, we don’t have any new shipments coming in from Kirigakure, maybe for weeks.” She tells him angrily. “What am I supposed to sell then, huh? You want to ruin my life because you couldn’t complete your mission?” Sakumo buys her whole case of crown melons in an attempt to make up for it.

He has trouble getting any missions after as well. Every time he’s assigned to one, he’s kicked off. None of his fellow jonin will agree to be his teammate, and it kills him to know that they don’t trust him to be by their side. Not even the ninja he’d saved.

“They think you’ve lost the Will of Fire.” Hiruzen tells Sakumo after he finds out he’s been dropped from another mission. “You didn’t put the village first. You’ll have to earn back their trust, prove that the fire still burns strongly inside of you.”

But isn’t protecting his teammates important too, Sakumo wonders as he goes home, trying to keep his head from hanging too low. What is a village without its villagers? He thought the Will of Fire meant that Love is the key to Peace, and he loved his teammates. It’s why he’d kept them alive. Was a village more important than the people inside?

~

Things continue to escalate from there. Some shops won’t allow him inside to buy necessities. He could send Kakashi with money, but he worries even doing that. He doesn’t want Kakashi to suffer because of what he’s done, and now he wouldn’t put it past anyone to try and pick on his five year old son.

It hurts, not going on missions, not being able to frequent the places he’d once adored. But it’s not the worst part. 

The worst part is that when he smiles, no one smiles back. When he chases after a person to hand them back the money they’d just drop, they turn on him. When he compliments someone on the shirt they’re wearing or how good their hair looks, he’s met with insults.

There are no kind eyes turned on him anymore. If anyone looks to him at all, it’s with disdain. Any words said to him are snubs, and the words said behind his back are even worse. Coward. Fool. Disgrace. Traitor.

The words chip away at him, little by little until Sakumo no longer wants to leave his home. The thought of it makes him sick. After three days in a row of vomiting every time he attempts to go out the door to get groceries, he finally gives up. Even though he doesn’t want to, he gives Kakashi the money to go buy food. He’s just a boy, after all, and he still needs to eat.

Sakumo spends more and more time in his room. He doesn’t shower, doesn’t eat. He hardly even brushes his teeth. With the blinds drawn and the door closed, he lays in bed, waiting for sleep to take him. It’s the only blissful moments he has anymore. In his dreams, people still smile at him. They talk to him, exchange gifts and pleasantries, and his heart is full. Nothing is worse than when the sunlight begins to trickle in through his blinds, waking him up and reminding him of the pain.

Because that’s what his life is now. Constant pain. He is alone and isolated, cast out by the people that used to revere him, and that he loved more than anything. He still loves them, wants nothing more than to once again spark happiness in their hearts.

And so, after weeks of not leaving his home, he tries again. He pulls himself out of bed. He showers, does his hair, brushes his teeth. He changes out of the stained gross clothes he’s been wearing endlessly and he tries.

He spends his money anywhere that will take it. He flashes a smile at anyone who will make eye contact with him, and holds open every door he can find. Sakumo compliments the flowers in the flower shop and the smell of the dumplings the vendors are selling on the sidewalk. He compliments the stitching of the plush animals and even buys a crochet hat despite never wearing them. 

He’s trying, he thinks. He’s trying so hard, and he can’t understand it. He can’t comprehend how people can look at him the way that they do, how they can hate him so completely because he didn’t let people die.

No one will smile at him, and if anyone takes his money, it's silently. No one thanks him for holding the door open for them, and everyone else lets it close on him. “We don’t need your business.” He’s told at the flower shop, and behind him he hears snickers. “We don’t need him at all.”

So he heads back home as the sun begins to sink into the sky. Time will make things better he thinks half heartedly, but he doesn’t believe it. If anyone in the world is altruistic, it’s Sakumo. He doesn’t need thanks or appreciation. But if no one will even accept the kindness he has to offer, then what’s even the point?

And those words ring in his head over and over again. We don’t need him at all. And fine, if they don’t need him, don’t even want him, if his presence brings people pain, then he’ll stay away from them all. He only wants what's best for others.

But there’s still one person who does need him, he thinks. He has a son who’s only five, and as strong and smart and capable as he is, Sakumo still has so much he wants to teach him. So he’ll be there for his boy.

He’s rounding a corner, making a shortcut through an alleyway when he sees Kakashi surrounded by some boys older than him, and he stops. The boys are yelling at him, jeering him, and Kakashi looks as angry as Sakumo’s ever seen him.

“Why don’t you just go into hiding like your dad,” one of the boys is saying to Kakashi, and if it’s even possible, Sakumo’s heart drops even more. 

“You’re probably gonna end up just like him.”

“A traitor.” 

And then they’re pushing him, laughing and heckling him, throwing out insults left and right, telling Kakashi how horrible his dad is, how he shouldn’t even bother showing his face when he has such a vile creature as his father.

Sakumo doesn’t stay to hear the rest, and he doesn’t bother going to stand up for his son who he knows can handle himself. He can hear Kakashi taking care of them as he walks away, hands shoved in his pockets.

At home, he cooks the best meal he can come up with with the few supplies he has. He’s made sure to have all his money in one place, somewhere easy for Kakashi to find. He hadn’t realized the way Kakashi was being treated because of his screw up. He should have thought of it, though. How long had Kakashi been suffering in silence?

Kakashi comes home and Sakumo hugs him. He sits him down, gives him a big smile. Kakashi is taken off guard by it, surprised that Sakumo is even out of bed. He’d hardly seen him in recent weeks, and never with a grin on his face.

But he doesn’t question it, and though he doesn’t say it, Kakashi’s heart wells up. Does he have his dad back? If only Sakumo knew how much Kakashi had missed him, how hard it was for him to see his dad so sad. He didn’t care about the words of some people he didn’t give a second thought to. He only cared about his dad. Kakashi was still young after all, and he needed his father. He loved him so much.

And he doesn’t have the words to describe how he feels, doesn’t know how to express it because despite being so smart and so wise, he’s still only a child.

So he doesn’t say anything about it. He hugs his father, and he sits with him, and they talk. Sakumo tells Kakashi stories about his childhood that he hadn’t heard yet, and he gives him all his best fatherly advice. They talk about Kakashi’s future as a shinobi, and Sakumo tells Kakashi he knows he’s going to go far, that he’s going to be a better ninja than his dad ever was.

It’s the best night Kakashi could remember having as a child. Just being with his father and having his full, undivided attention. Sakumo makes sure to remind him more than once how much he loves him.

They stay up talking so long that Kakashi actually falls asleep, his head resting in Sakumo’s lap. Sakumo runs his hand over Kakashi’s head and thinks that Kakashi hasn’t looked so small and peaceful since he was first born. He tears up, because he loves his son, he loves him so fucking much, and he would do anything for him. 

After he carries Kakashi to bed and tucks him in, he heads to the graveyard. It’s late, but the moon is high and bright in the sky, guiding his path as he sits in front of his wife’s tombstone. 

“I did do my best, you know.” He says quietly at the grave. He doesn’t expect an answer, doesn’t even hope for something to come make it better. He’d give anything for some reassurance and when the wind blows through the still night, ruffling his hair, he closes his eyes, and smiles just a little, thinking of the way his wife used to ruffle his hair, and decides to believe it’s her, telling him she knew.

“I told you I’d do anything for him. I know we only want what’s best for him… I think this is for the best. He’d be better off without me…” And that’s what he truly believes with all his heart.

The village hates him, he’s been shunned and abused and turned away. And even with his broken heart, that would be okay.

But what’s not okay is for Kakashi to suffer for it. He shouldn’t have to bear the weight of his father’s choices, and for as long as Sakumo is around, that’s what will happen. 

Sakumo loves Kakashi, and he knows that his son deserves a fresh start, the ability to make a name for himself without his father holding him back. 

When he’s back home, he just sits and watches Kakashi sleep. With all the love Sakumo has always had, none of it compares to what he feels about his son. He loves him so much, all he wants is to see Kakashi grow up and be strong and be kind and be happy. He wants it badly, so fucking badly, that he almost loses his nerve. Almost.

But Kakashi is who he’s doing this for.

So finally he forces himself up to his feet. He touches Kakashi’s head one more time, bends down and kisses his forehead. 

“I love you, okay.” He says, smiling down at his son. Kakashi is his greatest accomplishment. “I’m sorry I didn’t do better. I tried my hardest, though. I hope you know that. And I’m sorry that I have to go.”

His voice catches, and he’s trying not to cry. If he starts sobbing now, he’ll wake Kakashi.

“It’s just… It’s too hard to breathe. I can’t see a light. But I tried. I tried very hard. And I swear I love you more than anything. That’s why I’m doing this. So you can be great.” He laughs, and it shakes, and he can feel the tears falling.  “I don’t want it to be dark for you, or for you to struggle to breathe. You deserve to live freely, so I don’t hold you back but I think…” He pauses, taking in his son one last time. “I hope that I’ll see you again. You, me, and your mother. Together again. Wouldn’t that be something?”

And with that he leaves Kakashi’s room, makes his way to his own bedroom. He won’t make it messy, doesn’t want to leave the boy completely traumatized. If he looks like he’s only asleep, then that shouldn’t be too bad, should it?

So he lays down, taking the poisoned herbs in his hand, and he tries not to cry anymore. He doesn’t want Kakashi to suffer, but at the same time, he doesn’t want to have to suffer anymore either. Sakumo has always been a strong ninja with a weak heart, and the past few months had been too much for him. It was better this way for everyone--the village, Kakashi, himself.

“I’ll see you soon,” he whispers to the picture on his night stand, a beautiful brunette woman with her hand on her baby bump. “I think I do believe that I’ll see you again. That will be more beautiful than anything.” 

He takes a breath before shoving the herbs in his mouth. He chews them down, swallows. Maybe it’ll just be like going to sleep, he thinks as his eyes flutter closed. Yeah, just like going to sleep. That doesn’t sound too bad.

[galacticlamps]

im sorry im sorry im sorry i know it’s been well over a year but i accidentally thought about Short Trips: Deleted Scenes (again) and it’s killing me (again) so i think im just gonna go ahead and post all these stupid thoughts that have been plaguing me about it since i first heard it & maybe that’ll help clear up some space in my head for like, real life things.

Spoilers I guess? It’s like a year and a half old but also high key the most recent 2nd doctor content i believe we’ve gotten which is like, the only negative thing I can say about it

The TLDR version is this:

I literally cant believe how sweet it is? Painful, but sweet. Like. I don’t honestly know what’s more likely - did they set out to write Jamie a nice little straight love interest and just fail miserably at it by constantly likening her to the Doctor AND paralleling the Doctor’s perspective with her ex’s AND putting Jamie’s relationships with both of them in direct tension with each other while constantly letting his with the Doctor win out?

OR - did they do a very 1960s thing and say hey we’re gonna write what’s essentially a story about how much Jamie and the Doctor love each other and release it on Valentine’s Day thinly disguised as a one-off romance with a french lady?

Now, as a general rule, my attitude toward questions like that is usually “don’t know, don’t care, doesn’t matter” - and while I 100% stand by that, I also have to admit that this particular audio seems to pay enough attention to detail that I’d kind of think I was selling it short if I assumed too many of these things were just meaningless coincidences, you know?

Anyway, that’s the most coherent/overarching thought. And here’s a disorganized list of things I absolutely cannot get over about it (they don’t form any kind of argument, mind, they just all happen to live rent free in my head):

- Celine is first taken in by Jamie being an idiot (specifically him claiming not to speak French, in perfect French); likewise, her entrance in the scene where they actually kiss is marked with a little anecdote about her hat getting stuck on a doornail and her scolding it as she attempts to fix her un-tameable appearance, and the narration says Celine “would often clown for Jamie like this” - all of which, while undeniably adorable, don’t exactly strike me as entirely original traits to have been assigned to Jamie’s love-interest (but also Celine is so cool and her perspective on film/media/time is an excellent addition to the long list of dr who characters)

- When they’re in the present, describing Jamie’s relationship with Celine in 1908, they call him her “companion” and highlight his going nearly everywhere with her, which earns a laugh from the 4th doctor (and me as well, though probably for slightly different reasons - but like, is that really all it takes to have a fling with someone in 60′s era who? bc if so...)

- Celine’s ex-fiance is still in love with her and is jealously watching when she kisses Jamie ... and then the Doctor appears beside him, evidently doing the exact. same. thing. They have the following conversation:

“You know, it’s not prudent to spy on people. But then, people in pain can’t be expected to act prudently.”

“Pain, monsieur? You mistake me.”

“Ah, do I? Good, because I rather thought you’d lost something.”

“What would you know about loss monsieur?”

- I’m sorry doc but who do you think you are, saying stuff like that and smiling sadly at the floor to boot? I 100% had to pause it here the first time I listened, just to not throw my laptop across the room. 

- Then when I recovered continued, the Doctor closes the door so they can’t watch anymore and explains “Possessing things comes so terribly easily to some men that losing them can feel cruel, intolerably cruel. In my experience, only the very best of men cannot be tempted to answer that cruelty with more - I do sincerely hope that you are the best of men.” (guess who gets described as the best of men by the end of the audio?)

- Jamie and the Doctor apparently develop a habit of walking along the river in Paris in silence

- During one such walk, Jamie suggests Celine come with them since she already figured out about the Tardis - and when the Doctor’s worried by this, he says he only allowed Jamie & Celine to grow closer “because of Victoria.” Jamie takes offense at the ‘allowing it’ comment and also refuses to admit he knows what the Doctor means about Victoria, which leads the Doctor to say that he knows how fond Jamie was of her - he was too, of course, but with him, “it was different, wasn’t it?” Jamie only says maybe that’s true and maybe that’s not, but his voice catches until he changes the subject

- Jamie doesn’t see Celine for days both times that she’s recovering from the shock and depression of her work being destroyed. In contrast, when the Doctor’s not well, Jamie’s "afraid” and “guilty” and hardly seems to leave his side at all, if his being there “rushing to embrace him” the second he wakes up - after a period Jamie describes as “at least a week” - is anything to go by, anyway. so either bf writers need to learn how to write a committed straight relationship or admit that’s not what they ever intended in the first place

- Oh yeah, and the Doctor spends that week "asleep” in Jamie’s bedroom - no, there’s no explanation as to if that’s where he was when he first collapsed or if it’s where Jamie decided to take him bc why would they feel the need to explain him being there? why was it even relevant to tell us it was Jamie’s room in the first place?

- The Doctor somehow manages to control the Tardis enough to take Celine on one trip to an alien planet and then return to the correct time & place for her to use the footage she recorded there in her new film - and while the audio doesn’t do very much to explain how that was possible, it does treat this as A Pretty Big Deal, and immediately afterward the Doctor has to spend a week communing with his past self (and/or the Tardis?) debating how likely it is that the Time Lords could use this to trace him. When he decides it’s not worth the risk and they have to stop the film from ever being shown to the public, Jamie asks why he agreed to it in the first place, and all he can say is “Because, Jamie, you asked me to!” earning awkward stares from the crowd.

- Oh, but, lest we forget, that little outburst is also immediately followed by him putting his arm around Jamie’s shoulders, and, shockingly, apparently beginning to actually explain the truth about the danger from the Time Lords - until they’re interrupted, of course idk why exactly but the idea of a 60s dr wanting to come clean with a companion but not being allowed to bc the show demands the war games be something of a reveal hurts me in a very good way

- The mental image of “the Doctor and Jamie, resplendent in borrowed evening wear”

- The audio admitting that Jamie’s not very good at subterfuge, and the Doctor asking if he’s going to be alright with them having to steal the film back from Celine - and Jamie’s little “Aye, Doctor” as he feels a ‘glass arrow piercing his chest’ glad to see bf is reading all my letters about exactly how i feel any time something sad happens to james robert mccrimmon

- The Doctor’s anxious to get out of there for obvious reasons, but he hangs around bc Jamie wants to see Celine again - which doesn’t happen, because of her aforementioned shock & depression, but she does leave Jamie a note that ends “you and that Doctor of yours - look after him Jamie, he loves you dearly, as do I.” yeah, if you didn’t want people to draw a parallel there, you could’ve picked, like, any other wording in the world.

- In case you weren’t fully convinced I’ve been reading too much into this whole audio already, consider this: Celine dies in Long Island in 1968, three days before her birthday - 1968 is when this story would’ve taken place in the show’s history (between Fury & Wheel), and dying three days before/after a birthday in America seems a bit... well I had some deja vu from it, anyway

- Four of all people being the one to bring back the film - I know he does it bc Sarah Jane makes him, but personally, I often feel like despite the length of his run, 4 is the Doctor with which we might’ve gotten the fewest glimpses into his interiority, so the fact that it’s him and not one of the more overtly sentimental Doctors makes it feel like it carries even more weight somehow, to me anyway. I think I wrote a post saying roughly the same thing about 4 & Fate of Krelos/Return to Telos but maybe I only did that inside my own head lol. Still, I’m all for any opportunities for Jamie to be one of the few characters to draw some noticeable emotion out of Four, but in fairness I haven’t touched too much of his EU stuff to really be able to compare the frequency with which this happens with other past companions

- Is Four referring to Two or Jamie when he says he got the film from “an old family friend”? Two did the actual stealing, but he probably means Jamie’s involvement - either way, it’s an interesting way of describing old companions - or selves?

- When Jemima goes to call Jamie a thief, Four is “roused” to defend him: “he really was the very best of men” again, any time four freely shows he cares about someone, im over the moon about it

- Oh ha ha, there’s an audio called “Deleted Scenes” featuring the Doctor who’s most affected by junked episodes. And at the end of it, a character who’s spent her life researching and lecturing about a lost film gets to watch it be ‘rediscovered’ after it’s gone unseen for decades. I feel marginally less stupid for reading into the other details of a story like this when it ends up deciding to be to be clever & slightly meta like that

But yeah

all in all, it’s kind of amazing to me that this genuinely reads like they sat down and said okay boys it’s valentines day, let’s write an audio where jamie kisses a girl, since that hasn’t happened except as a plot device in one story in 1967 - but then when they got down to business they accidentally(?) wrote a story all about how important his bond with the Doctor is and how easily that can be compared to a legitimate love interest (even if the love interest in question is a one off character & the extent of the relationship appears to be like one kiss & then having Jamie spend most of his time around the Doctor instead)

I realize there’s something slightly illogical about writing the words “shipping aside” after a post like this but seriously - no matter how many categories you’re able to see two & jamie’s relationship fitting into, this is 40 minutes of big finish just hitting you over the head with how powerful/special/important that relationship is, and with them being two of my favorite characters, i really haven’t been able to stop thinking about it since

[kissme-hs]

Tainted Love : 2

Here’s awaited part 2 of our recent heartbreak. I would very much appreciate the feedback and suggestions for further improving my writing skills. Also, thank you everyone who showed me love and support it means a lot. I haven’t proof read it so I apologise for any mistakes. I hope you all like it!!

-Ria

Warnings: none

Pairing : Reader x Chris Evans

Tainted love : 1

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

Once a cheater, always a cheater. If you can let you heart drag your feelings from the person you believed you loved to a stranger who’s looks were so mesmerizing it made you tremble break the trust your person put in you, you are nothing but a sinner. The sin of crushing someone’s heart for your greedy needs, the heart which would die to give you love is worst than any other. 

You thought this whole time Chris wasn’t the one to be blamed. You thought he went to seek comfort and warmth which you failed to give him for a few days. You thought he felt lonely just because you were working so hard to be accepted in his glamorous world. The blame was on you, as per YOU. But oh boy how wrong you were. The kind heart you carried took the blame of Chris’s sin. Poor you who thought maybe just maybe if you gave him your time things would be different. You left thinking maybe this is what fate wanted. 

No.                                                             

It was never you. Being a kind person came with cons of being taken advantage of. You neither were neither dumb to be fooled easily nor were you the cleverest not once not falling for someone’s fake tears. Your generosity was one of the beautiful traits that made Chris fall in love. Your empathetic self always tried helping the world as much as you could. You were indeed a piece of art he chose to love.

The fault wasn’t yours. He knew. He was aware of how much you were working hard to be accepted in his world of fame, to stand up to expectations of his fans and people surrounding him in being The Chris Evans’s girlfriend. And he appreciated it. Chris was grateful for what you were doing. He was thankful to the lord for bringing such an angel in his life filling it up with joy and happiness. For giving him someone who loved him so dearly he felt the world moved beneath his feet. He was so in love with you even till the date he was on top of that lady. But the thing is, it all did not start when you became busy, it all started way before.

He wouldn’t like saying it was a mistake because it wasn’t. A mistake is an action you do unwilling without any intention. The very first second she pressed her lips to his and he kissed her back was unintentionally as it was a reflex respond of his lips getting used to kissing yours. But the moment after when he pulled her back in grabbing her by her throat was the minute he lost his defense of calling it a mistake. He was well aware and sober enough to know what he was doing. None of the actions ‘just happened’ he chose to do it. It was his own decision sneaking out of the house just to get a taste of her. He forgot about the woman lying beside him dreaming of a beautiful life for the both of them. No longer had Chris started enjoying the feeling of her body connected to his. The new taste got him addicted. The growing lust overshadowed the emotions he had for you.

“I love the way you take me in baby” Chris bite her ear as he thrust in her body bringing himself to the edge.

“Just like your girlfriend does” She smirked and for a second it felt like the realization hit his mind. He looked at the lying lady beneath him and searched for the face he fell for but couldn’t find it. His mind wandered to your face taking in your beauty but the feeling of lust overcame his thoughts.

“Even better”

The feeling of devastation was real as you stumbled out of the house with an aching heart. Your eyes were blurred with the tears he caused you caused because in the back of your head it was your entire fault. The sound of your clicking heels echoed the empty parkway as you quickly rushed to get seated in your car before getting noticed by your neighbors or hiding paps. There was no sun out that day. The sky was dull and grey and soon you heard the rain drop on your roof. Seemed like the universe was helping you, signaling you to let the pain out as you let out a loud cry. If anyone stood outside, it’d hard for them to figure out that you were yelling In ache because of the rain muffling your broken voice.

Every sob reminded you of the time Chris promised you he wouldn’t make you cry.

But here you were sitting with broken promises and tainted love.

Even though Chris was finding someone else attractive, it didn’t mean he stopped caring about you. He missed you with every breath he took, he missed you when he looked at the photos hung on the wall, he missed you looking at the t-shirts you’ve worn. He knew he was up to no good when he decided to still keep holding onto you when he was seeing someone else. He would not deny that he is as selfish man when it came to you. Him fucking her, never changed the fact that at the end of the day it YOU who he thinks of. So when you were almost two days late coming from the business trip he panicked. Yes, he should’ve called to check on you but that’s the thing. There were bare phone calls, bare test messages, bare kisses and almost to nothing of I love you’s.

His mind blurred with the most regretting thoughts, none of them close to him cheating on you but instead something bad happening to you. Little did he know, you already saw the worst of all.

“Hey where are you” He typed in biting his lips, the little voice in his head hinting that you might’ve come across to his dirty little secret but brushing it off he hit the send button. And the wait began. He waited for an hour, two hours and soon he fell asleep waiting for you to text him back. He was sprawled on the couch when his phone buzzed awaking him from his little dream-land.

“Hey Chris,

I came home. I was standing right in front of you but you were so blinded by the beauty of your mistress that you couldn’t see the girl you love once loved. I am sorry for not loving you enough Chris. I am sorry you felt the need to seek love from someone else. Only if I was able to give you the happiness you wouldn’t have done what you did. Please don’t be mad at yourself because I know you will, because I know no one can stop you from caring about me. The way you look at her tells me enough to let you go. And so I will. I hope you find happiness in her. But it won’t change the fact that I still love you, dearly and heavily like I always did.

Take care,

I love you Chris.”

With just mere words he felt his world crashing down. He can’t imagine the pain you felt when the man you loved was fucking another girl in the same bed you made love on. For the first time the guilt crawled up his throat as he let out a gasp, his breath became heavy and his hands went cold. How could he never even once think what would happen if you saw it? How could he not. Just imagining you in bed with someone else feels like getting punched in the guts and makes him want to strangle the man then how could he do the same to you. And oh poor you, he thought. Took the blame on you, left him to be without putting up a fight.

For a second he was disappointed hearing you just give up but then he realized, he was the one who started it. When he saw her working hard day and night he should’ve held you tight, telling you how much he loved you, how much he appreciated you but instead he carried on with his little fling.

His eyes picking up tears and his stomach churning with regret. He did not know what to do. The shame was eating him alive knowing he had the best in the world but he still went for something which was nothing but an illusion.

He promised to give you the love in fairytales but gave you a tainted one instead.

—

Sorry if this didn’t turn out as you thought it would. I wanted to keep things real and based on my personal opinions I would never give a person who cheated on me a second chance.

Tags

@captainchrisstan

@evansphnx12