i am still not over those boots

Reconsider. (ii)

or… y/n rethinks her decision about leaving harry

category: mild angst & fluff 

part i. part ii.

two months later…

She wakes up to the heavy sound of pans crashing to the floor downstairs, and a cold draft of air brushing over her bare shoulder. Harry had told her that he liked to sleep with the ceiling fan on, but the A/C as well? Was the man raised by Father Christmas himself?

Her hands press around Harry’s white comforter in search for a shirt or maybe a robe to cover her barely clothed body. She’d find some way to keep more of the chilled air to hit any more of her skin. She eventually finds the silk button-up she planned on going to sleep in, down on the floor near Harry’s side of the bed; in the process of picking the shirt up, she finds herself feeling somewhat like a 5-year-old with her very first crush when she thinks about her having her own side of the bed. Of his bed.

When her shirt is somewhat buttoned up, she slips on Harry’s house shoes left by his ensuite bathroom and begins to make her way down the steps. There’s a bit of smoke clouding the area around the kitchen, but the smell coming from the large space was anything but unpleasant. She watched his bare back plate the food on a cute breakfast tray she remembers him buying the other day. He jumps, turning around to face her when he hears his shoes she was wearing slide against the marble tile.

“What are y’- Babe, no.”

She laughs at his peeved expression moving around the counter to press a chaste kiss to his lips. “Harry, it’s 6 in the morning. What are you doing up?”

“I was makin’ you food. Breakfast on your first night over, you’ve gone and ruined that now, haven’t you?”

“Yeah, I was the one that dropped whatever woke me up.”

He can’t help but crack a sheepish smile. “The oil splashed all over the damn handle– impossible to get a grip.”

“Do you need help carrying it to the table?” She moves to pick up a slice of a strawberry before Harry moves to swat her hands away.

“Breakfast in bed, minus the sausages I dropped. Get y’cute ass upstairs and pretend to sleep.”

She’s now the one to swat as his hands with a smile when he tries to grab squeeze of her bum. “One night of sex and you’ve already had a confidence boost?“

“Can’t help it.” he calls as she begins to scurry up his stairs.

“Give me 3 minutes to brush my teeth!”

He’d surprised her with a desk that morning, the main reason he had woken up at 4 in the morning and slept the rest of the day. She appreciated his gesture nonetheless, thankful for him taking the time to build the pesky (and very complicated) piece of furniture.

Every morning since he’d placed the desk on the left wall of his room (right under the window so that she could have the best amount of light), she’d be sat in the comfortable chair he’d provided just a few days later, doing last minute paperwork or typing away for an essay due the following night –her favorite morning talk show playing in the background.

He’d always toss a small pillow at the back of her head when he was finally awake, then spend 10 full minutes trying to convince her to get back in the bed for one last cuddle before she left for school.

When he looks over at the desk now, it’s empty. Her plush fleece sweater was no longer hung over the back of her chair, her laptop wasn’t sitting atop of the surface, displaying a PDF of a book she’s never been able to go out and buy a physical copy of. The desk looked dead, in fact– the light poking through the blinds brought anything but nice thoughts. She left her favorite pencil holders and he wonders if she’d be able to write a “good arse essay” without her lucky pen that was now sitting in an unused cabinet with the rest of her things she forgot.

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Roadhouse Blues

For ease of access please find below links to all my previous stories;
Sam and Dean Series Lists     Stand Alone and Requests     Little Winchester
High School Sweethearts       Dear Diary             Reader Title Challenge    
Enjoy my lovelies.
Regards,
Bec
Xxx
                                                   Request
                                           
Roadhouse Blues

alexstarnes1701 said to 5minutefanfiction:

Can you do a dean x reader where he wants to go to the road house and know one knows why but it’s so he can purpose and after he does Jo gets extremely jealous and loses it

Authors Note: Sorry it took so long. Hope you enjoy it. xx

WORD COUNT: ahhhh really long like 3500

‘Dean, it’s our first day off in forever. Can’t we please just sleep?’ I groaned as he tried yet again to drag me out of bed.
‘No baby. C’mon it will be fun, we haven’t seen Ellen and Jo in ages and what better time to see them than our day off.’
‘Well, you go have fun. I love you and see you when you get back.’ I rolled over and pulled the blankets up over my head. I heard Dean sigh.
‘Baby?’ he tried, I felt his hands coming in under the blanket ‘Baby?’ they reached my thighs and pushed up slowly ‘Baby, I want you there with me.’ I groaned again. His hands were now running up my sides. I felt his head coming in closer and his breath on my shoulder as he kissed me ‘Please, please come with me.’ He covered me in kisses and gentle nips.
‘You will have a better time without me there.’ I offered.
‘Doubt it.’
‘It will be less awkward. Jo isn’t exactly a fan.’ I sighed.
‘That’s cos shes Jo. She hates everyone.’ Except you. I thought. I felt for her, I really did. Her feelings were so obvious and Dean was blind. All of a sudden I lost all blankets.
Dean!’ I squealed.
‘C’mon gorgeous get up. Let’s go.’
‘Can I convince you to come back to bed?’ I suggested watching as his face changed. I bit my lip, Dean moved in and kissed me. Working me up before jumping backwards.
‘When we get back.’ He smirked.
‘ARGH!’ Dean walked out our room with the quilt and calling over his shoulder,
‘I will make you toast and coffee to go. Get moving.’

I dragged myself out of bed, pulling on a pair of jeans, tank and my jacket. I brushed my hair leaving it down. Pulling on my boots I walked into the kitchen and found Sam looking just as thrown together as I did.
‘He wake you too?’ I grumbled, Sam nodded trying to make coffee. ‘I think we may need to check him for possession.’ I muttered. Sam grunted, I knew he thought the same thing.
‘He’s never up this early on a day off.’ Sam complained.
‘He never turns down sex either.” I muttered. ‘Sorry.’ I said quickly, realising I said it out loud.
‘He turned you down?’ Sam looked surprised.
‘My thoughts exactly.’ I raised an eyebrow. Sam went and found some holy water, and poured it into a glass.
‘You are actually going to test him?’ I asked shocked.
‘He’s up early, happy and turned down sex. He’s not my brother.’ I snorted. Yep that sums it up. I walked with Sam to the impala and found Dean tapping his foot impatiently.
‘Bout time get in. Let’s go.’ Sam looked down at me, I frowned at Dean, watching as Sam threw the water in his face. The reaction was not what we expected.
‘Son of a Bitch. What the hell Sammy?’
‘He’s not possessed.’ Sam replied shocked.
‘No maybe he has finally lost his marbles. The hunts may finally be getting to him.’ I replied.
‘Get in the damn car now.’ Dean growled, trying to hide a smile. I started climbing in the back when Dean stopped me, pulling me in for a kiss.
‘I’m not possessed or crazy. I promise.’ He smiled.
‘You are way to happy for Dean Winchester, are you drunk?’ I asked. He actually looked offended. I couldn’t help but smile at him and I kissed him again. ‘I love you regardless, I love happy you. But I am tired and you owe me.’ I winked and climbed in the back of the impala.

I laid down on the backseat and tried to nap but Sam kept screwing up paper from a notebook and throwing it at me.
‘If I can’t sleep comfortably and have to put up with happy Dean, so do you.’ He complained.
‘You know the best thing about today?’ I asked
‘What’s that baby?’ Dean asked still grinning.
‘Ellen has alcohol and a lot of it.’

We pulled up at the roadhouse, and climbed out. I watched Dean almost skip through the doors. I grabbed Sam’s arm.
‘I am actually scared. Something’s wrong.’ I said quietly,
‘Me too. You happen to have a knife or six in those boots of yours?’ he asked quietly. I nodded. ‘Ok. Good that’s something.’
‘Will you two get in here.’ Dean complained. Sam and I walked in, joining Dean. I watched as both boys hugged and greeted Ellen and Jo. Ellen came over and hugged me too. We spoke for a bit, I tried to talk with Jo, but she was still not happy to see me. I felt daggers every time Dean touched me or kissed me. After a while and a few drinks, Dean went a put a song on the jukebox. I laughed as he pulled me up,

‘Dance with me, baby.’ I smiled as Led Zeppelins- Thank you came over the speakers. I listened as Dean sung it softly in my ear as we danced

If the sun refused to shine, I would still be loving you.
When mountains crumble to the sea, there will still be you and me.

Kind woman, I give you my all, kind woman, nothing more.

Little drops of rain whisper of the pain, tears of loves lost in the days gone by.
My love is strong, with you there is no wrong,
together we shall go until we die. My, my, my.
An inspiration is what you are to me, inspiration, look… see.

And so today, my world it smiles, your hand in mine, we walk the miles,
Thanks to you it will be done, for you to me are the only one.
Happiness, no more be sad, happiness….I’m glad.
If the sun refused to shine, I would still be loving you.
When mountains crumble to the sea, there will still be you and me.

‘You know this says it all. I love you so much Y/N.’
‘I love you too Dean.’ During one of the instrumentals he pulled something from his pocket.
‘Marry me?’ he asked holding up a ring. I froze, I felt tears running down my face. I kissed him hard. ‘You know you actually need to answer.’ He laughed.
‘Yes.’ I answered laughing. Kissing him again.
‘Thank God, cos for a second I thought you were going to say no.’ he kissed me and placed the ring on my finger. I heard cheering and turned to see Sam and Ellen and several hunters clapping and congratulating us.
‘Still mad I dragged you here?’
‘I think I can forgive you.’ I grinned, wiping the tears from my face.
‘You have got to be kidding me! You are actually going to marry her?’ Jo screamed, throwing a bottle at the wall. I watched as Ellen tried to calm her down, but it didn’t work. She stormed out of the bar.
‘Go talk to her.’ I told Dean, he looked surprised at my suggestion. I nodded. He followed her out.

I walked over and sat with Sam not knowing what else to do.
‘I’m sorry she ruined your moment.’ Ellen apologised. I shook my head.
‘Probably wasn’t the best place for Dean to do it. I don’t think he realises how Jo feels about him. I tried to explain it once I noticed but he didn’t seem to understand.’ I said sadly. ‘I don’t blame her for being hurt.’ I looked at the ring on my hand. Unsure what to do, I wanted to marry Dean. We had been together for a few years now. But I didn’t want to come between his friendship with Jo. After a while I decided to go try and talk to Jo myself.

Walking outside I watched in horror as I saw the two kissing. When they stopped, Dean looked up and saw me. His face fell. Although it probably wasn’t as shattered as my heart. Jo turned and looked at me, she looked guilty for half a heartbeat before the smug look came over her face. I wiped the tears from my face. Dean looked at me in horror I took my ring off and waited.
‘Y/N, I can explain.’ Dean said rushing up to me.
‘She might need this.’ I said quietly. Tears flowed down Dean’s freely, he shook his head.
‘No, you need that it’s yours baby. It’s not what you think, I didn’t… I’m in love with you. I want you. Not Jo. I just…’ He ran his hands over his face and neck. I tried to give him the ring and he refused to take it.
‘Dean.’ I warned, trying not to completely loose.
‘Baby please don’t do this. Don’t end this.’
‘I wasn’t the one that ended it Dean.’ I tried to give him the ring again and when he refused to take it I dropped it at his feet.

I walked back inside, Ellen looked up as I entered. From the look on my face I knew it said everything.
‘What did she do?’ She asked. I shook my head.
‘Is there any chance of a taxi or a lift?’ I asked.
‘I’ll take you home, then we can talk.’ Dean said quietly from behind me.
‘I’d really rather not spend that amount of time in a car with you.’ I muttered.
‘There’s no taxi’s out this way.’ Ellen said sadly. I closed my eyes and swore. I stormed out and headed for the impala.
‘Look’s like he’s not that in love with you Y/N.’ Jo said in a sickly sweet voice. I turned to face her, I considered hitting the bitch but it wasn’t my style.
‘You know what, that’s fine. It’s probably better this way; a leopard can’t change his spots. He did always love a good slut. I hope you enjoyed the taste of my lips on him.’ I watched her jaw drop slightly and I climbed into the impala and slammed the door. I glared as she tried to talk to him, I watched as he blew her off, several times before he let rip. He was mad, I couldn’t understand why he was pissed at her. She never hid her feelings, and if he has only just realised how he feels about her wasn’t not Jo’s fault.

I felt for Sam on the way home. It wasn’t a relaxed picnic drive. We got to the bunker and I stormed off, Dean grabbed my arm to stop me. I watched as Sam almost ran from the garage, for a large guy he can move quickly when he wants to.
‘You dropped this.’ He held up the engagement ring.
‘It’s not mine.’ I replied quietly. ‘Let me go.’
‘Not happening.’ He said softly. ‘Please baby just hear me out. Let me explain.’
‘Don’t call me baby.’ I snapped. I watched as pain shot through his eyes. ‘I’m not your girl, your baby, your princess, your sweetheart. I am nothing but some girl you shagged for convenience. And that is now over too.’
‘That’s bullshit Y/N you are all that. Not the convenience part, you are everything else and more. You’re my fiancé damn it.’ He was so mad and hurt by what I said. I knew it got to him. But I didn’t care.
‘You ended that as quickly as it started, the second you thought about kissing her.’ I tried yanked my arm from his grip but he tightened it. I gasped at the pain that it caused. I watched as he swore,
‘I’m sorry I didn’t mean to hurt you. I didn’t…’ he panicked, quickly letting go. I knew it was an accident. I wasn’t mad about that. Dean’s phone rang then, I saw her name come up on the screen as he rejected the call, it rang again.
‘Your girl’s calling you had better answer.’ With that I turned and walked out.

Once in our room I started packing my bags. I had very little belongings. I found it amusing in some ways. I needed little to make me happy. I went to grab my iPod off the desk when Dean came in and shut the door behind him.
‘Stop packing.’
‘Get out Dean.’
‘You’re not leaving Y/N. I’m not letting you leave. You can’t end this. Please.’ His voice was breaking.
‘You can’t stop me.’
‘I screwed up but it’s not what you think. Please just stop for a minute. Let me explain. Don’t leave me. I can’t do this without you. I can’t live without you. You are my reason for living.’ He started pulling my stuff out of my bag as I was putting it in. I sighed.
‘Fine. I’ll just get new stuff.’ I went to grab my bag and he snatched it, holding it out of reach.
‘Y/N please. Give me 5 minutes then I will give your bag.’ I stopped and looked at him.
‘She kissed me, I shouldn’t have responded, I didn’t want to, but I did. But I don’t want her. I want you, I have since I first saw you. I wouldn’t have proposed if I didn’t. I love you so much. I would die for you, I can’t not have you in my life. I am so so sorry baby. Please, please don’t end this, be mad fine. I deserve that. Hell I deserve you leaving in. But I don’t want you too, I can’t have you leave. I can’t go on not having you to fight for, to come home too.’ His chest was heaving, his hands now down by his side. I watched as he started falling apart.
‘Bag.’ Was all I said, it was all I could say. I snatched it from his hand and he fell to his knees, wrapping his arms around my waist, sobbing into my stomach. Begging me to stay, to forgive him.
‘You made out with another woman, minutes after you proposed to me Dean. You have no idea how much I hate you right now.’ I stepped back and walked out.

Dean’s Perspective

I watched her go; I have never hated myself more. I cried some more, before destroying the room I shared with her. I decided then to chase her down, but as I got outside the bunker I watched as her car drove down the road. I flew inside and jumped into the impala, taking off after her. But I lost sight of her I had no idea where she went.

I parked the car on the side of the road and swore, loosing it again. I drove back to the bunker and tried calling her non stop until my battery died. I left her message after message. Her words like a knife, she hated me.
‘What happened?’ Sam asked as he came in and saw me.
‘I screwed up and lost the only person in my life who matters.’ I broke down again. I told him what happened. He tried calling her, just to at least see if she was ok. I was beginning to panic that something had happened. I then found a bottle of whiskey and drained it. All I could hear was her sweet voice saying she hated me. I had no one to blame but myself.

Reader’s Perspective
I didn’t drive far, I decided to do something I never thought I would do. I pulled out my phone and made a call.
‘Did you kiss him or did he kiss you?’
‘You think I would tell you anything?’ Jo snapped.
‘If you love him you would.’ I answered softly. ‘You’ve absolutely destroyed him Jo.’ I sighed. Her end of the phone went quiet. ‘If he’s in love with you then I won’t stand in your way. I never would. I wouldn’t want to be with someone who is in love with someone else. It’s why I questioned his feelings for you when Dean and I first got together. But he denied it. Now though he is in pieces because I have called off our engagement and left him. It doesn’t look like he’s happy to have the chance to be with you.’ I added.
‘How bad?’ she asked, I could here the sadness in her voice.
‘Worse than I have ever seen him and I watched as he lost Sam. But that could be cos those two dying is s a regular occurrence he may be used to it by now.’ I added with a small smile, I heard her laugh slightly.
‘That it is.’ We talked for a few minutes before I hung up. I hated myself, I hated her, I hated Dean. Basically I hated the world right now. I took a deep breath and drove again.

I walked down the stairs of the bunker several days later. I saw Sam at the library table, he jumped up and hugged me.
‘You ok?’ I nodded.
‘Where is he?’
‘Your room.’ I nodded. ‘Drunk or sober?’
‘Passed out.’
‘Makes for an interesting conversation. Kinda one sided.’ Sam snorted.

I walked into our room, Sam wasn’t kidding. Dean was passed out and the room was trashed. I knew Dean had lost it when I left. I felt bad, he hadn’t been this drunk in a long time. I sat quietly on the desk chair and waited. It took a few hours before he came too. I watched as he stirred.
‘We need to talk.’ I informed him as I watched his eyes fluttering, as he tried to wake up. Upon hearing my voice he flew up and was wide awake, but he moved to fast and fell off the bed. I struggled to hide a laugh.
‘Are you up for a chat?’ I asked.
‘You’re back.’ He stated, tears forming in his eyes.
‘No really. I want to talk. Are you sober enough to talk and listen?’ He came and sat on his knees in front of me. His hand on my cheek, I struggled to not lean into it.
‘Whatever you want baby, whatever it takes.’
‘I spoke to Jo.’ I told him, I watched as his eyes grew wide. ‘I need to know something. Before anything else, and I want you to hear me out. No interrupting. OK?’ he nodded, grabbing hold of my hand. ‘I want to know if you have feelings for her. I want you to think long and hard about this Dean. If you do, then I want you to go to her and try and figure out what ever you need to. Even if it means being with her, I am not going to stand in the way of the two of you. Nor will I marry you if you have feelings for someone else.’ I sat back and watched him.
‘I look at her like a sister Y/N. I have no feelings at all, not like that. Not like I have for you. I love her yes but not like I love you, I am in love with you. I want to spend forever with you. Waking up next to you, kissing you, being with you.’

I watched as Dean looked at my empty ring finger and ran his finger across it. I watched the pain in his eyes as did it. I knew he was telling the truth.
‘I am so sorry baby. I really screwed up, I understand why you hate me I don’t blame you. I just…God please, please don’t stop loving me. Don’t leave me.’ He laid his head on my lap. I felt a wet patch forming on my leg from his tears.
‘I never stopped loving you Dean. I couldn’t.’ I said quietly. He looked up at me.
‘It’s one of the down falls of falling for you, easy to love hard to hate.’
‘You don’t hate me? You said…’
‘I was mad. I hate to love you but I do. I love you so much it actually hurts Dean.’ I wiped my face as tears fell again. Dean’s hand came up and wiped the tears too, before bringing his lips to my cheeks kissing the tears away.
‘I am so sorry. I love you so much.’ He kissed me on the lips, cautiously at first, then passionately when I didn’t object.
‘I love you too.’ He kissed me again, moaning when I kissed him back. ‘We need to clean our room.’ I whispered.
‘Our room? You’re coming home?’ I shrugged.
‘If you want me.’ He launched himself at me, almost knocking me off the chair, covering me in kisses.
‘God yes. I don’t want you anywhere but by my side.’

Several days later I walked into our room, and watched as Dean clicked play on the iPod, Led Zeppelin’s –Thank you came over the speakers.
‘Let’s try this again.’ He said smiling, pulling me into his arms. ‘Stay with me forever? Be my wife?’ he asked kissing me. ‘Let me spend my life trying not to screw it up.’ I laughed at his proposal.
‘Yes.’ He slipped the ring back on my finger and kissed me again more passionately as he pulled me on to the bed to celebrate our engagement.

Command Me To Be Well (Part 7 of And the Devil Makes Three)

Based on Take Me to Church by Hozier.

Read Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6

Summary of Part 7: Dean breaks down and  finds comfort in Cas.

Warning: Canon divergence, spoilers for seasons 1-5, angst, so much angst, Destiel smut

Word Count: 2000ish

A/N: This is a Destiel part. If you don’t want to read Destiel, skip this one, because there’s not a lot of plot advancement, just some emotional stuff I can summarize next part. The reader is only in the last scene. But don’t worry, there are plenty more parts and the story isn’t over! Tagging the creator of the playlist that inspired this, @littlegreenplasticsoldier​ , who I cannot thank enough for helping me with this story, because I am having so much fun writing it.You guys into it so far?

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outlanderedandoverhere  asked:

So, bearing in mind how for Season 2, Jamie's Parisian boots have been a particular highlight, and being a somewhat enthusiastic fan of the Modern Glasgow AU, I was wondering whether you could maybe introduce a spectacular pair of eye-catching boots into that setting and the subsequent fluff that may result...

Modern Glasgow AU

Claire rested the back of her arm over her eyes and groaned.

“I’m sorry.”

Naked beside her, Jamie laughed.

“Why are ye apologizing? Ye’ll have noticed that I didna exactly want to fight ye off.”

She arched her back, stretching, feeling soreness tug at suddenly-tired muscles between her legs.

“It’s the middle of the day. And I’m a respectable doctor who has a list of chores a mile long that I need to do on my day off.”

Jamie rolled to face her, delicately tracing a line across her belly with the tip of one rough finger. He cupped the swell of flesh that had sheltered their bairns - cherishing the skin criss-crossed with a web of silvery marks. Hard-earned proof of his love for her - and their love for each other.

“Claire. Ye’re entitled to a bit of a lie-in. Fergus is at uni. Faith and Bree and William are at school. Murtagh and wee Julia are up to God knows what out on the estate. Jenny and Ian are dealing with the electricians at the barn, and all their bairns are away. Mrs. Crook doesna care. And ye haven’t taken a holiday in two months.”

She moved her elbow from her eyes and smiled at him.

Christ, how did she still take his breath away, after fifteen years of marriage?

“It’s just - when I saw you wearing those boots, I don’t know what came over me.”

Was she blushing?

His hand dipped to cup her. Her breath hitched, and his eyes narrowed.

“It’s just the new rubber boots, Claire. How else am I supposed to see to my estate if I’m up to my ankles in mud and horse manure everywhere I go? And I’ve had boots before - ”

“But never like that. Never ones that go up to your knee…”

*A Dhia* - he could feel her under his hand. She truly *did* find it erotic.

“Is that so?” he purred, bending to kiss the side of her jaw.

She swallowed. “Yes,” she hissed. His fingers gently kneaded the tender flesh between her legs.

“Why?”

She moaned, seeking friction. He did not yield.

“Tell me, Claire.”

She turned her face toward his, hungry for his lips - and he pulled back.

“Tell me.”

She licked her lips. “Just - you. Covered in sweat and dirt. I - it’s so different from when we lived in Glasgow.”

“Is it?”

She squirmed. “You’re - closer to the earth here. You’re the laird. This is your true place.”

“Aye. It is.” Fascinated, he watched her belly quiver. “But my true place is wi’ ye, Claire - wherever ye are.”

Her eyes - hooded - locked with his.

“Seeing you like that, Jamie - it makes me forget everything else. Makes me want to -”

And then she blushed.

“Honesty, Claire. Ye ken ye can tell me anything, aye?”

She nodded.

“Makes ye want to what?”

Lord, what his fingers could do…

“Makes me want to claim you,” she finally whispered. “And for you to claim me.”

In three seconds he had growled, shifted, and then sheathed himself within her.

“I’m yours,” he panted, almost overcome with emotion. “Only yours. Ye must ken that, Claire.”

She lifted a trembling hand to cup his cheek.

How her heart soared to see his smile.

midoriko-sama  asked:

Astrid wakes up in the morning, feeling dizzy. She realises she has a fever, but goes to training anyway. Retches and faints half way through, and Hiccup brings her home on foot in his arms. The (shipping) villagers go 'aw' and he stays with her till nightfall, trying to make her laugh and feel less useless by discussing dragon defense plans. Astrid falls in love with him that day.

This is literally the cutest prompt and I’m dying.

——

“Whoa, is she dead?”

“If she’s dead, I claim her ax.”

“What? You can’t do that, that’s not how it works.”

“Sure it is.”

Astrid scrunched up her face, her eyes still closed. She knew the voices, but she didn’t know why they were in her room. Or why the back of her head hurt so badly. Or why her skin felt like it was on fire but her chest felt like it was frozen.

“Get back, you lot, give her some air.”

Third voice. Just as familiar. Again, very strange as to why he was in her bedroom.

Someone smacked her cheek, just hard enough to make her blink. “Open your eyes, lass. Y’all right?”

She cracked open one eye. “Stop it,” she mumbled.

Gobber leaned over her, eyeing her critically. She was about to ask him why he was in her bedroom, but then she realized she was looking up at the gray open sky. A cool late spring breeze was blowing, even though it didn’t do anything to cool her down. “You’re not looking so well, Astrid,” he said.

The twins crowded around Gobber to stare at her too. “Aw, she’s not dead,” Tuffnut said, disappointed.

Ruffnut elbowed him in the ribs. “Not like you’d get her ax, anyway,” she said.

Astrid sat up, pushing herself up on her elbows, but she must have moved too quickly because the world rapidly tilted behind her. She hunched over her knees and covered her eyes. “Careful,” Gobber warned. “You took a nasty spill.”

“What happened?” she mumbled into her hands.

“Hiccup went back to the forge to grab the saddle that I forgot, and you offered to teach the barrel roll technique yourself,” Gobber said.

Astrid frowned, trying to think back. “Did I fall off Stormfly?” she asked.

“Didn’t even make it,” Gobber said. “Took three steps and keeled right over.”

“It was great, so graceful,” Tuffnut snickered. “What’d you do, trip on nothing? Trip on air? Is that even possible?” He paused. “Wait, is that possible?”

Astrid pointed at him, still hiding her eyes behind her hand. “I am going to puke on your boots,” she warned.

“Oh, come on, you wouldn’t-”

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Drabble Prompt:  The lovely fuckingplebe said she was bored and needed some everlark drabble with smut. This is me so it is more than a drabble but here you go baby I hope this helps. I love the time of training during Catching Fire where Peeta is kind of callous and Katniss is kind of lost. Enjoy this came together in thirty and might be all kinds of full of mistakes. <3

Author:  peetasbunmyoven (Peetasbunmyoven)

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Dress like your date day at camp half blood

Nico: *wearing a lab coat and stethoscope over a golden silk v-neck and sequined golden flare plants* 

Nico: WILL,GET YOUR SUNSHINY ASS OVER HERE THIS INSTANT I AM GETTING A SERIES OF WEIRDED OUT LOOKS AND IT’S ALL YOUR FAULT YOU FABULOUS PIECE OF SHIT!

Will: *wearing an aviator jacket over a my chemical romance t-shirt and torn black skinny jeans and and oversized scuffed up combat boots, black nail polish, and mascara* 

Will: *scowling and trying not to laugh* i am darkness fear me

Nico: I HAVEN’T WORN MASCARA SINCE I WAS THIRTEEN!!! IT WAS A PHASE ALL RIGHT!!?? STOP SHAMING ME!!!!!

Nico: … but those skinny jeans are really working for you…

Will: Just the skinny jeans?

Nico: *huffs and crosses his arms*  ok, FINE, whole outfit works… but you still suck!

Will: You swallow

Nico: *blushes furiously* YOU WANNA FUCKIN GO

Will: on a date with you? You know it!

Nico: *sighs* oh, fuck me.

Will: When, where, and how hard? ;D

Nico: T H E R E  I S  N O  E S C A P E  F R O M  T H I S  H E L L 

Anon Submit: Chiming in on the change in Ben

Hi Ballsy,

Sorry, this is gonna be loonnnggg….

Long time listener (possibly) first time caller. I just would like to chime in on a few things:

How I came to the Batch: My dad is a life long fan of Star Trek. I’m sure he’s seen everything ten times over. There was a period where we were both out of work and I would spend a day with him once a week, from breakfast through to dinner, and we’d just watch movies and talk crap. One morning he says to me “You seen the new Star Trek film?”. My response was “Abrams, a few years ago, yeah.”. “No, no, the new one.”

Turns out it was released on DVD that day, so at 7am we were hunting through the supermarket for a copy of STID. DVD sorted, breakfast and coffee sorted and he says “You’ll love this one, Khan is back.”. Well, I actually didn’t enjoy Wrath of Khan, it’s probably my least favourite ST thing ever (sorry to the other nonny who loves it). After much protest from me about how I don’t like the Khan storyline, don’t like WOK, he says “No, you need to watch this, this Khan is better!” (my dad, always controversial, I know).

So, five minutes into the film Dad’s shouting “There he is! Look! Khan!”. “Yeah, Dad, trust me, i’m looking.”. Needless to say, I then subjected my husband to it about three times in the next two days. STID, that is.


My husband does this thing where, while he’s watching a film, he’ll be on IMDB at the same time to check out the actors. All I had to do was say “Goddamn, I want a piece of that,” and he was IMDB'ing Benedict, to much shouting of “That’s the dickhead from Sherlock.” “Whatlock?”, “Sherlock, I’ve been telling you about this show for two years, and you won’t watch it with me.”

Well, I watched it with him.

Cue the spiral into the world of Batch. He was goofy, funny, *smart* (or appeared to be), and didn’t take himself too seriously. The work was the work and there was no room for talking about the private life. It was magic. One of a kind, not many celebs you see these days that don’t shill their private lives, but here was one and I could just enjoy the humour, the fun, the work, the intellect and the *very* nice parcel it was all wrapped up in.

OzComicCon: I went to Sydney OzComicCon. It’s been a whole year ago this weekend, and it makes me sad for a number of reasons.

1. I originally had a ticket to go to the Sunday event only, and they had some Saturday night meet & greet tickets left over, so I got offered one. I took it. I got to meet Benedict Cumberbatch over dinner. How completely awesome was it? I came home and told poor husband that men everywhere needed to lift their game.

Meant to spend ten minutes at each table, he spent about thirty minutes on our table and we talked about a heap of things from art history, to feminism (yeah I know), mental health, childhood memories and the like. So, aside from being absolutely delightful to look at, he had a brain to boot. I was feeling even better about my life choices and who I admire.

2. I am still convinced that the man I met last April is not the man who I’m watching all over the internet and the media at the moment. I can’t reconcile the two. He talked about his privacy during the Q&A on the Sunday, rooms of his mind palace that were for the public and rooms that were for him, or something along those lines.

3. I heard a lot of people came away from that weekend with not 100% positive experience of him. I’m not sure how. The Saturday M&G was just wonderful, during Sunday on the day, he pulled my friends and I aside to ask if we’d enjoyed the Saturday night, had he done okay, did we have any feedback for him, before it descended into chaos, anarchy, laughy, swearing Benedict. In fact, the photo I took with him is an absolute delight. I haven’t seen a smile like that on his face in months, and I’d just told him to f**k off.

4. These three points *alone* have me convinced something is off. Yes, I was paying to meet him/see him/have photos and autographs. However, you don’t *fake* the genuine nature that I met/saw/observed. You can’t, at least not for a period of two days straight. I can’t reconcile this with the angry/pissy/sad/exhausted Batch we’re now faced with. Even Karon was a pure delight to talk to, we stole her and BC’s manager Barry away for a chat during the M&G.

The Engagement:

Something smelt like off fish the moment it was announced. I *had* a friend who is a 150% nannie and claims to have links to BC and kept telling me they’d known each other for years but the timing just wasn’t right. I could buy that if they’d been photographed at all in the last 17 years as is claimed they’ve known each other. Hasn’t happened. No receipts. They look miserable. He looks like crap. I showed my husband a picture last night, a side by side of BC from behind. One picture was at RIII funeral, the other S3 Sherlock. He says to me “holy crap, how skinny is he?”, and wouldn’t buy that the RIII picture was taken only last week, or the week before. If my husband, who can be hit by a train and not notice it, can see what’s going on, then something’s not right.

Now, onto Hamlet:

I have tickets for two performances. The minute I head the “florals” comment, and his carry on about fanfiction in the OUT interview I thought f**k you, jam your hamlet tickets in your arse. Talk about bite the hand that feeds you. Everyone told me to sell them, I have tickets to two performances, and they were going for a pretty penny online. My thoughts are always that empty seats speak more than onsold tickets. Don’t like your attitude, not going to support you by fluffing your ego with full seats.

So, for a while I had decided not to go. I am a published author. I dabble in fanfiction as a way to test things out, it’s a great learning curve and how dare he reduce it to something as simplistic as teenage girls wanting to shut out other female competition. I’m married, in my thirties, no kids (can’t have them), and don’t write Johnlock, it’s not my thing, but I do play with it to gauge reactions. Each to their own, I know a lot of you guys aren’t fans of fanfic, it’s all good.

And then I thought… well f**k you, Batch, you and your shitty attitude. I’m going anyway. To London at least. I’ve wanted to go my whole life. I’m not in a great position financially, being an author is not a steady income, but I’d bought my tickets, bought my airfare (got a magic deal), and thought…well, I’m going.

Like I said, I have tickets to two showings. I’ll go to the first one, and re-evaluate after that. Unlike a lot of others, Hamlet isn’t a favourite. I was going merely for BC, no other reason. So, I’ll revaluate where I stand after the first performance as to whether or not I go to the second one. Tickets went on sale here recently for NTLive screenings and my husband wanted to go so he could “see what I was going to London to see” (he’s not coming with me to the UK), and I looked at him and went… you know, I don’t want to. I just don’t have it in me to buy tickets to support this garbage anymore.

Sometimes I think I want to be proven wrong and I want to see this as a long, fruitful marriage but neither of them look like they want to be on the same planet as the other, let alone jump into bed. Do I think there’s a baby? I really hope not, given how miserable they both look, plus my husband (who knows nothing of babies and pregnancy) even looks at the photos and asks How? When the bump keeps moving and changing shape.

This is all very sad. It makes me sad. It’s definitely not the person I met just twelve months ago. It’s not the person I came to admire, and who pushed me on to greater things in my life. I really hope it comes to an end soon, but there you go. Here’s my story of how I got involved in this mess.