#alternatively alternatively me when i put the ball behind my back and pretend it disappeared to my amazed dog

[ratatatastic]

Panthers React to Magic or alternatively men get introduced to sleight of hand for roughly 2 minutes and a half and go "wow (amazed also with the fear of god instilled into them)"

[definitelynotkatesblog]

Lesson Learned ∣ Spencer Reid fic

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem! Reader

Category: Smut

Summary: Curiosity killed the cat, and the tail end of a cat and mouse with Spencer might just be the satisfaction to bring you back to life. 

A/N: SHE LIVES! I am so sorry for being MIA. Work has been kicking my ass which has left me no time to write, and (insert other excuses about poor time management, etc). Anyways! Please be kind, I’m a little rusty. I love a bratty Reader and I hope you do too!

Content Warning: Masturbation (female), Dom! Spencer, bondage, mention of impact play, penetrative sex, cursing, teasing, punishment, overstimulation (mild), degradation, use of sex toys, aftercare

Word Count: 2.6k

My mother always told me ‘curiosity killed the cat’. She usually said it to keep my nose out of her grown-up conversations or out of her closet around Christmas time.

What she didn’t know, or had chosen not to tell me, was that satisfaction is what brought the cat back to life.

If curiosity was to be my demise, then my glutton for punishment could simply be considered an attempt at resuscitation.

I put on my best pair of puppy eyes and laid it on thick.

“Please?” I whined, “I just wanna try something. I saw it in a movie and it looked really fun!”

His eyes searched my face. “A movie?” Spencer asked dubiously.

I nodded quickly. It wasn’t an immediate no, which was promising. I took his hand and coaxed him gently to the chair by the small table in the bedroom. There had been many a night where I’d been taken over his knee while he sat in this same chair. I’d become familiar with and quite fond of the markings in the old wood of the legs had earned over time.

He followed behind me hesitantly and plopped down in the chair. I gave him a quick smile and went to retrieve the red rope he kept in the closet.

His brows furrowed but he remained quiet as he watched me disappear behind him.

I worked quickly to tie his wrists together, weaving the rope around the pillars of the chair.

“What movie did you see this in?” he asked, craning his neck to see me.

“Uhhh, you know the name escapes me right now, actually.”

I circled back around to take a look at my handiwork. I nodded, satisfied and met his eyes.

His eyes were dark- a doubtful look etched into his features.

A smile crept across my lips and spread to my entire face. This was the best idea I’d had in a while.

“Wh-”

“Shhh, shh, it’s gonna be great.”

***

I felt his eyes follow me around the room, my ears burning like that old urban legend.

I grabbed the small vibrator from our bedside table and tossed it on the bed before meeting his eyes.

He shook his head slowly, almost imperceptibly, warning me.

I shrugged and padded to the dresser, rummaging through my bottom drawer for my old friend.

I produced the velvet pouch from its hiding place under old sweats and unzipped it, dramatically revealing the silicone length like a sword.

I placed it on the bed before throwing a glance towards Spencer, tied to the chair with nowhere to go. Normally when he was in the chair, I was strewn across his lap earning bruises or making myself useful with my mouth, but tonight was different.

I climbed up on the bed and situated myself so I was directly in front of him. I fluffed pillows behind me, piling them to create a prop for my back. I leaned against them, shimmying my shoulders as I stared down the barrel of the loaded gun that was his line of sight.

I kept my eyes locked to his as I slipped my t-shirt up and over my head, exposing my breasts.

Both hands came to grab and grope them, pushing them together and kneading, squeezing and gripping. My bottom lip found its way between my teeth as my fingers tugged and pulled at the quickly pebbling peaks. My eyes fluttered shut for a moment, pretending my hands were Spencer’s. I drew a deep breath in, letting my breath hitch for a moment as I tugged one peak harder for effect before the air rushed from my lungs through a smile.

My hands left my chest and traveled downwards, rubbing and exploring until they reached my waist. I spread my legs and brought my head forward, opening my eyes to see a vein on Spencer’s neck protruding. I gave him a smile and ran my hand over my mound through my panties.

A moan fell from my lips but was cut short.

“Stop.”

My eyes flew to his and my hand stopped. But only for a moment.

A small smile touched my lips as I hooked both thumbs in the fabric resting at my hips and dragged it down my legs, kicking them off to land by his feet.

His eyes followed the fabric and stared at the tiny heap for a moment.

When his eyes found me again, they immediately spotted the small toy teetering between my fingers. His eyes dragged up my arm and locked eyes with me, unblinking.

The silence in the room was deafening. I could hear his breathing, low and dangerous.

There was a static charge to the air, his anger almost tangible, coupled with the adrenaline coursing through my veins.

I broke the silence with a flick of my finger- the buzz of the vibrator seeking contact filling the air.

His jaw clenched and flexed as I brought it between my thighs.

I started with drawing slow circles, teasing along my lips before touching it to where my body was craving it most. My back arched off the bed just slightly at the contact, followed by a quick gasp as my head fell back to rest on the pillows stacked behind me.

I could feel him staring daggers into me, the heat from his glare scorching my skin. I made more pointed sweeps of the vibrator over my clit, and brought my other hand up to knead at my breast.

My breaths quickened and hitched, the sounds of my moans and the vibrator against my slick center filling the four walls of the room.

“Stop,” he ground out.

I lifted my head up briefly, quickly losing the strength in my body to fight the orgasm brewing low in my belly before falling back on to the pillows.

A small giggle escaped my lips before they came small, needy gasps as the intensity of the vibrations against my clit grew.

“Don’t do it,” he warned. I could see him wrestling against his restraints, throwing hisnwright around and pulling his shoulders forward in an attempt to loosen the ties. Any person with a sense of self-preservation might have considered the repercussions of my little game and stopped while they were ahead.

I knew better than to finish without permission and knew better than to deny a direct order, but I figured, fuck it.

My soft gasps became a desperate plea as my orgasm washed over me. My legs shook and my core tightened as stars danced behind my eyelids. I was briefly aware of how much trouble I would be in when I did have to untie him, but those thoughts were quickly swept away as the bliss settled over my body like a fine mist.

I could feel the wetness pooling beneath me as I started to regain feeling in my limbs.

When I lifted my head again, I saw Spencer had moved himself closer, the chair angled and slightly closer to the bed than where I’d left him originally.

The fact that I could feel his anger coming off him in waves shouldn’t have excited me, but it did. I wanted to know just how far I could push him before he snapped.

Perhaps it was the post-orgasm chemicals that emboldened me, or my general inclination to be a glutton for punishment, but I summoned enough strength to reach for the other toy on the bed.

I brought it to my lips, throwing an extra loud moan in for good measure while my tongue worked and swirled around the silicone length. I dragged it from my lips, a small string of spit snapping against my chin as I dragged it slowly down my chest, between my breasts and over my tummy.

“Baby, baby, please. Don’t.” he rasped.

“Hmmm,” I feigned thoughtfulness, “No.”

I continued on my mission, breaching my own heat with the toy, alternating with slow and quick thrusts while I adjusted to its size. I stole a quick glance at Spencer who was looking absolutely feral. I gave a quick twist of my wrist, taking myself by surprise at the new angle I’d found. I continued on my mission, the quick and shallow thrusts tacked the second orgasm on to the first quite nicely.

The scream that left my lips might have been a touch performative, but the sound of Spencer’s laboring lungs made it well worth it. My chest heaved as I came down, staring at the ceiling with my hands outstretched at my sides.

I took a moment to catch my breath before sitting up and hugging my knees to my chest, daring to look at Spencer.

He looked fucking possessed. He had wiggled mostly loose of his restraints, and was leaning forward in the chair, his chest heaving as his eyes bore into mine like he was capable of seeing through me.

I knew what I had to do and figured leaving him there longer wouldn’t end well for me. I climbed off the bed onto still-shaking legs and crossed the room towards him, carefully skating along dressers and walls to keep a distance between us.

I crouched behind him, quickly undoing the rope, taking cautious steps backwards towards the bed. My eyes followed his movements, watching him bring his wrists in front of him, rubbing the indents from the fabric.

His next move was so quick my eyes couldn’t register it for my brain quick enough to make my limbs move.

He was on his feet with his hand wrapped around the column of my throat, pushing me backwards onto the bed.  

“Have you lost your fucking mind?” he growled, his fingers flexing around my throat.

Maybe.

I gave him a wicked smile. “No, sir.”

“Then what the fuck was that?” he spat.

“I just wanted to make myself feel good!” I squeaked.

“Listen to me,” he started, his tone absolutely lethal, “I own you. I own this pussy. And I own your pleasure.”

As he spoke, his hand worked between us to position himself to be perfectly aligned with me.

The head of his cock dipped briefly into the pool of my arousal, gathering wetness from my previous orgasms. Without warning, he plunged into me, not stopping until he was balls deep and began thrusting with punishing force. He pushed the air from my lungs with the force of an absolute madman until I was left gasping for air, his hand still firmly gripping my throat, not at all aiding my attempt to breathe.

My hand flew to his wrist and his grip loosened, sliding up to secure a vice grip on my jaw instead. He used his hand on my jaw to move my entire head from side to side, just to show he could.

He stopped the movement with his eyes locked on mine. “This was the first and last time you do that. Understand?”

I probably should have tried a little harder to suppress the saccharine smile spreading across my lips, but I’d be damned if he just made it so hard to behave if this was my punishment.

Spencer’s lip curled at the sight and his thrusts became more purposeful, driving deeper until I felt him in my belly. A whorish moan ripped from my chest, wiping the smile clean off my face, replacing it with a slack jaw in his hand.

“Everytime you feel this good, you��ll know it was me,” he bit out, his pace not faltering.

A particularly deep thrust sent a blazing trail straight to my chest, igniting a flame that licked its way down and out to engulf my every nerve. I cried out as my eyes fluttered shut, much to Spencer’s dislike. He shook my jaw in his hand. “Open. I want your eyes,” he ordered.

I whimpered in response, my eyes barely open beneath my knit-together brows. I felt my walls fist around him, the fire in my veins reaching its original source and threatening to explode at any moment. Spencer felt the change and grabbed my ankle, throwing it over his shoulder. Our new position allowed him a new depth that felt like he might just split me in two. I cried out, the line between pleasure and pain blurring as I was swallowed by the flame.

“Who owns you?” he yelled, “Who makes you feel this good?”

His thrusts did not falter, his pace did not change, and he was not any kinder to my body despite it falling to pieces around him.

“You! God, you!” I shouted back, the only level my body recognized.

“Don’t you fucking forget it.”

His hand flexed around my ankle, adjusting his grip. I knew he was preparing himself for his own release. I hoped he was close because I didn’t know how much longer I could take his brutal workings.

He pounded away, growling and turning to nip at the inside of my ankle resting on his shoulder. That alone shouldn’t have aroused me but it did. I shook my head, wishing and willing for my body to not chase another orgasm. I was exhausted and fighting to stay coherent.

I saw him smile and shake his head, his brown mop shifting as some pieces stuck to his forehead.

“P-Please, Spencer-”

My attempt at a beg fell on unimpressed ears.

“Hmm, no,” he said, mocking my feigned thoughtfulness from earlier.

His hips pistoned forward as he found his own release, and took me with him as he both fell apart. My tired cries danced in the air with his strangled moans like our lives depended on it. I felt his warmth spread inside me, but was too exhausted and delirious to be happy about it.

I couldn’t move a single limb on my body. Spencer kissed the inside of my foot once more, a delicate press of his lips to my skin before brushing my leg off his shoulder like a piece of lint.

“Fucking brat,” he muttered as he climbed over me. A smile spread across my lips as I watched him climb out of bed through half hooded eyes.

Sometime between him walking away and closing the bathroom door behind him, I lost the battle of staying awake and my eyes shut.

*

“Baby,” Spencer whispered.

I whined in protest. There was literally nothing I wanted to do other than sleep, and nothing he could do to convince me otherwise.

“Baby.” This time, he whispered against my temple before dropping a kiss.

Another groan from me let him know I was not going to be a willing participant in whatever he was planning.

He chuckled and pulled the sheet I’d tucked under my chin down, leaving me exposed to the cool air of the room.

At that, my eyes opened a bit to see him kneel between my legs with a towel. His hands were gentle on my legs as he pulled them apart, nothing like the ruthless, punishing man he was mere minutes before.

He finished cleaning me of our mess and pulled the sheets back over me, pulling them snugly around me. After a moment, he crawled into bed next to me, propping himself up on one elbow.

“Oh,” he said, gently petting my hair, “If you ever plan on trying something like that again, you’d better work on your stamina”.

I snuggled closer to his chest to hide my smile. “Lesson learned,” I mumbled into his warm skin.

Final Score: Curiosity: 1 0 Satisfaction: 1

——

Let’s talk about it!

[gladerwolfstarkimagines]

Not just a soft princess - Azula x female reader imagine: Part Two

You arrive at the fire nation and things do not go as Azula planned, mainly because she didn’t expect to be putting her own neck on the line to protect you from her father...but that’s exactly what she finds herself doing more and more. 

Part one here

Part three here

Part four here

Part five here

Part six here

Your POV

The ship landed just as the sun was rising and you expected to be shown to a room to sleep but instead Azula started towards the palace and gestured for you to follow. The dai li were sent down another corridor and you hesitated but Azula called your name sharply and so you turned away. You had no idea where Azula was taking you, all you heard her say was “he will want to see her” to two guards who hastily got out of her way. You were so angry and scared you didn’t take in the grand decor or extravagant wealth of the fire nation. You just followed Azula as you went further into the belly of the beast. When you got closer Azula dismissed everyone apart from you but one person didn’t leave. Her brother Zuko stayed and Azula narrowed her eyes. She yanked him to the side and they argued in whispers but eventually Azula won. You wondered if she ever lost....Zuko turned back the way you’d come and disappeared around a corner. Azula carried on walking without saying anything and anxious not to be left behind you hurried after her. You finally reached a huge throne room lined with fire and gaped. "Father" Azula said sprawling on the floor in a bow. The figure in the fire turned and looked at you both before fixing it’s eyes on you. Azula shot you a look but you made no attempt to move "you said nothing about bowing, i am still princess of the earth kingdom". Azula narrowed her eyes when suddenly the figure moved out of the fire. Fire lord Ozai loomed before you and glanced over you “so this is the princess" Ozai said coming to stand right infront of you. He lifted your chin with his hand and stared in your eyes harshly. "You are now our ally so i will excuse this lapse in judgement just this once...but in the future you will bow to me and only me. We are allies but i your king, do you understand?". He jerked his hand away but you didn’t let you chin drop, the fire lord glared at you but you matched his eye defiantly. You saw Azula watching anxiously so eventually looked away "yes fire lord Ozai" and lowered your head. "Good" Ozai replied. You doubted you had a choice. “You will rest and prepare for tonight”. “What’s tonight?” you asked and Ozai smirked cruelly “why our victory party of course”.

Azula’s POV

After you left Azula stayed, anxious to hear her father’s praises but they never came. “She is your responsibility” he said simply and Azula looked up “the princess?”. “Well who else?” he snapped “it was stupid bringing her here, you should’ve killed her when you could”. “I couldn’t...there’s no way the city would’ve allowed it, they would not have surrendered if we harmed her, the only way to assure victory was with her help”. “She is not broken and that is a problem” Ozai glared “it will be your job to break her, if you fail or if she causes even a whiff of treachery....you will face the consequence” he glared “yes?”. Azula bowed her head “yes father”. Her father made a noise and swept past her, stepping on her sleeve as he passed. Azula frowned wiping away the dirt and stood up. If you were her responsibility then she had to make sure you behaved, she had work to do.

Your POV

You were led through another maze of corridors until you were eventually released into your room. As prison cells went it was beautiful. Large and tastefully decorated you found yourself admiring the room when suddenly the door was thrown open. Servants brought in boxes and boxes of supplies and you frowned “what is all this?”. “Clothes” Azula said appearing “you need to look nice for the firelord’s presentation tonight, the servants will choose what you are to wear and help you to get ready”. “Because I am incapable of doing that myself?” you asked and Azula glared. “Because this is too important an alliance to fail, you have no idea about fire nation customs or our traditions so if I were you i’d take every slither of help I could get...”. Azula backed away from you and went to leave but you weren’t done. “The dai li, where have you sent them? Tell me or I won’t go near any of these outfits”. Azula rolled her eyes “I have taken some for my personal protection but others will be deployed however I see fit”. You shook your head worried for the guards that had left their families because you said to. “I want to have some with me, I want them to be alternated regularly so I might make sure they are being treated well”. Azula glared “you are not in the position to bargain with me”. “Am I not?” you asked “you’re smart but you know if anything happens to me...if word gets back to the dai li or to Ba Sing Sei....your alliance falls away, what would your father think of that?”. You’d picked up on Azula’s fear of her father and felt bad using it on her but given what she’d done to your people you thought it fair. The servants all paused at the mention of Ozai and looked at you with obvious astonishment you’d dare test the princess but you didn’t care. If you were so important as Azula claimed she couldn’t touch you. With visible effort Azula’s shoulders lowered and she met your eyes. “I will see to it you always have a guard of four and they will rotate monthly, now is that all?” she asked sarcastically. You nodded your head and Azula strode from the room pushing over a servant that couldn’t get out of her way fast enough.

You unsurprisingly couldn’t rest and the ball came quicker than you expected. Before you knew it you were poked and prodded into a traditional earth kingdom dress nobody even wore anymore and thrust into the middle of the fire nation nobility. You were forced to sit by the firelord’s side for the duration of a large feast where he basically paraded you around as a trophy. He claimed you were allies working to strengthen your kingdom but you were a prisoner. Pretending to not be livid was hard and you took solace hoping your people were safe at least. That’s all that mattered.

Azula’s POV

"I feel sorry for her" Ty Lee sighed watching you “she looks so...awkward”. Azula glanced over to you and realised her friend was right. Despite looking every bit the beautiful exotic princess with a wide smile on your face your eyes were betraying you. You were miserable. “Well duh” Mai replied “do you think she’s happy to be here?”. The nobles had all certainly taken to you but Azula guessed that hadn’t helped. You were dressed in traditional earth kingdom clothes and primped like a delicate thing to sit in a display case. Azula noted you did look radiant and beautiful but you had been just as stunning when she first saw you in trousers and a loose tunic only that’d hadn’t looked half as forced. This, with your hair twisted up into an odd position and a corset squeezing you into a ridiculous shape, didn’t look like you at all...just a basic princess of the earth nation.

Azula watched as her father leant in to say something to you and you flinched away repulsed. You were still smiling but it was very clear you detested him. Her father either didn’t notice or didn’t care and he kept his close proximity to you. Azula thought it unwise for her father to keep pushing you, she wasn’t sure how long it’d be before you earth bent his chair away from you for coming close to you. Azula supposed that would be bad for appearances so made her way to her father. “Father” she said bowing “may I make a suggestion?”. Ozai nodded and she moved closer. “Perhaps if y/n could move around the room...people could see her better and it would look like more of an alliance, I could show her around if you liked?” she whispered. Ozai thought before nodding “yes that is a good idea”. Azula nodded and went to step towards you when Ozai cut her off “Zuko” he said turning to his son further down the table. Zuko jumped up and rushed over “yes father?”. “Y/n wishes to stretch her legs, take her for a walk around the room, give her a whole tour of the palace if you wish just make sure everyone sees the two of you together” he said pointedly. Zuko lowered his eyes and nodded “yes father”. You had evidently overheard and stood up as soon as Zuko looked at you. You rushed away from Ozai so quickly Zuko followed you in a daze.

Mai’s POV

Azula returned to Mai and Ty lee and she she evidently noticed Mai’s expression. “I didn’t mean for that to happen...”. “No, I knew it was only a matter of time before your father put his plan in place” Mai sighed. There were already chatters about you and Mai knew Ozai was anxious to assimilate you into the fire nation. An obvious and simple way would be to link your blood line to theirs and given you were only one year younger, you and Zuko seemed the obvious option. “I told you that won’t happen” Azula said sharply “she’s a princess she won’t be sold off like cattle”. “You sure about that?” Mai asked as the whole room followed you and Zuko with their eyes, whispers breaking out everywhere. Mai wasn’t so sure Azula was right this time. A marriage would so neatly tie up this whole business, any children you had would have claim to both the fire and earth nation meaning the fire nation could legitimately take over half the four nations. With you help Ozai wouldn’t even have to wipe the earth kingdom out, he’d more than double his population and reach an insane amount of power. Mai couldn’t see how he would resist that and so watched you warily.

Your POV

You’d only been in the fire nation a day but you were painfully aware of Ozai’s plan for you and so you were wary of Azula’s brother but honestly he seemed just as scared as you. He led you outside in silence, past all the people who muttered just loud enough for you to hear. He stopped at a balcony in full view of them all and silence settled. You were aware he probably also knew what his father had planned and were pleased he also seemed opposed to it. “So...how do you like the fire nation?” he asked awkwardly and you paused. “I honestly don’t know what to make of it, I haven’t been let out of my room all day so I haven’t had much chance to look around”. Zuko looked at you awkwardly “ow”. “Ow” you agreed and silence settled. Finally Zuko sighed “look I have to mention it...I know what my father has planned as do you...but I didn’t ask him for it and I won’t be speeding up the process I can assure you...er no offence”. You smiled surprised at his honesty “none taken, it’s a relief to hear you say that...no offence”. Zuko smiled dryly and silence settled again. You were confused by what Zuko had said though, why was he acting like he didn’t have a say? You were a prisoner but he was a prince, why didn’t he just tell his father no? “Not to sound rude but can’t you do something about it?” you asked suddenly and Zuko jumped. “Me? what makes you think I can do anything?”. “Well you’re the first born and the future king! Can’t you...refuse or something?”. Zuko laughed “things must’ve worked differently in your kingdom but here...lets just say speaking out against my father isn’t an option”. You frowned disheartened and Zuko touched his scar nervously before sighing “we should move around, my father wants them to see you...”. Zuko led you back into the party and you felt like a show dog being paraded around. You followed him dutifully until Azula appeared. “Princess Y/n” she said nodding to you “brother” she said sharply to Zuko “father has retired”. Zuko looked up and sure enough Ozai’s throne was empty. “He has?”. “Clearly” Azula snapped before turning to you “all he asked is that you stay at the party until the end but that does not mean you have to spend it with my brother, I wouldn’t wish that fate on anyone” Azula smirked. You smiled without meaning to but immediately felt bad for Zuko. The prince scoffed and barged past his sister most unimpressed and Azula laughed. “Not the most charismatic” she told you “but then we can’t all be so lucky to be blessed with people skills”. “You have people skills?” you asked and Azula narrowed her eyes, “just because I wasn’t trained to be a pretty smiley princess like you doesn’t mean I can’t handle people, i’m very good at getting what i want...you’re proof of that”. “Me?” you asked confused and Azula smirked “do you think you’d be here if I didn’t want you here?” and walked away leaving you confused.

1 week later

You soon realised you’d been premature to complain about your treatment on your first day in the fire nation. The day after the party you were awoken early and forced to dress and show your face around the fire nation nobles. Then you were drilled incessantly by some twin women about everything fire nation. The correct titles to use, who you must bow to, how you must style your hair....the list was endless and the women cruel and harsh. Your days were spent being prodded around by them, your evenings been paraded around whatever formal event was being thrown and the fire nation seemed to have an endless amount of events to prove their honour and pride. You soon caught on that the events were merely a way for Ozai to force you and Zuko in proximity to one another and so in response you tried avoiding the prince as much as was humanly possible. In truth you had nothing against Zuko, he seemed fine but you didn’t want to encourage any more contractual alliances, a marriage least of all. The only good thing about the situation was Zuko wasn’t the only fire nation royalty around. Strangely Princess Azula had been...helpful in that respect. Anywhere Zuko could go so could Azula, so anytime Ozai demanded Zuko go somewhere just so he could force you to do the same, Azula would also show up. So what would’ve turned into a date was just a royal outing. Even tonight, the fire lord had purposefully attempted to seat you and Zuko at the centre of the table. Azula had swiftly placed herself in the centre instead, both of you blocked by her and you found it rather entertaining. She was definitely the brains of the fire nation and for whatever reason she did not support a union between you and her brother.

Azula was oddly the member of the royal family you saw the most. On your “royal outings” you and Zuko largely ignored one another and with Azula and Zuko not getting on, it would be the two of you trading quips or light insults at one another all day. She’d also regularly appear in your schooling sessions too and when she did the women were a lot nicer to you. They obviously wanted to impress the princess and needed you to do that so went from shrieking furies to kind old women. You began to look forward to Azula’s visits in your lessons and found her presence oddly comforting in certain situations, like the formal events. Nobody dared approach you when Azula was next to you and it was refreshing. In her presence you were protected from the stares and rude behaviour of the fire nation nobels who had gotten bolder with their behaviour to you. Zuko would just look away but Azula would directly challenge anyone who showed you disrespect. She claimed it was because disrespect to you was disrespect to the fire lord but you weren’t so sure...there was something oddly endearing deep down in the princess. You didn’t see it often but when you did...you liked it.

But Azula wasn’t often vulnerable and you more often saw the harsher side of her, especially if she was in a bad mood and particularly if you were too. The two of you would clash and after a hard day of training you suspected the same could happen tonight. You’d had a bad day from being summonded to oversee the contract of your alliance you had no control over to the painful dress you’d been placed in tonight but the worst bit was Azula hadn’t shown up to your training session like she did every week and your teachers had taken it out on you. So you were already slightly miffed at her when she sidled up beside you in the throne room.

You were stood watching the other nobles lost in thought and clear confusion showed on your face. "What’s wrong with you...never been to a party before?" Azula asked. "Not one like this" you admitted and glanced at Azula. You were annoyed to see she looked nice (as always) but she was constantly dressed so formally. You hadn’t once seen her in normal clothing and it seemed as if the fire nation lived in formal wear. “So what’s with the face?” Azula asked jolting you out of your theory. "Is there no dancing in the fire nation? I’ve been here over a week and not once has anyone danced at any of these things" you said dismissively and Azula smirked "you like to dance?". You shrugged "my uncle loved it as did Bosco...it was infectious everyone would get up and dance too" you smiled at the memory "but here nobody seems to do much smiling or laughing…do you know how?". Azula narrowed her eyes "maybe if your city focused less of bears and parties it wouldn’t be ours now". You’d provoked her with your comment but you hadn’t meant to make her so angry. You’d learnt her temper could be far more fragile than your own but you were sick of appeasing it. She needed some to snap back at her and you’d give it her. You sighed deeply and glared "don’t pretend you won on merit alone you got lucky...the avatar gone, long feng over thrown, it wasn’t all your talent that won you the city and what was the point of it all anyway? Even with my city the fire nation’s still a miserable place. Nobody here seems happy or to like each other. That’s probably why you focus so much on other nations but what happens when you've conquered the world and you’re all left to your unhappy selves? At least we were happy on our own could the fire nation say the same?".

Azula’s POV

You turned and strode away before Azula could reply and she slammed her drink down in response. How dare you get the last word! It angered Azula so much she tried looking for you to continue the argument but couldn’t seem to find you. She was sure you’d disappeared on purpose and that made her even angrier. You were so spirited and had such a sharp tongue, it matched hers and that infuriated her. She had to admit you were similar to her in many respects and that made her both interested and agitated by you. "Princess Azula" a servant called and Azula snapped "what?" she yelled and the man cowered "your father wishes to speak to you and your brother...before the contract signing with princess y/n tomorrow". Azula straightened and ignored the people looking at her. She made her way to Ozai’s throne room and was annoyed to see she was the last one there. "Ah finally" her father called and Azula resisted the urge to point out if he’d have told her earlier she’d have been on time. "The contract is all drawn up, we will present it to y/n tomorrow. AIl the agreed terms are there plus an added clause for us". "What sort of clause?" Zuko asked and Ozai glanced at him "a clause that ensures y/n will always be of use to us". Azula found said clause and tensed, the clause basically signed your life over to the fire lord, he could use you however he saw fit. This meant Ozai could do whatever he wanted to you and it would be part of your alliance. Azula knew exactly what her father had in mind and he was stood across from her. Zuko looked at Azula confused as she stared at him and Zuko went to say something before she looked away. "It all seems to be in order why don’t i take it to her tonight?". Ozai shook his head "no it needs to be overseen by officials so there can be no question of it’s legitimacy". "We have a room full of them, i can get it sorted for you by tonight why wait for tomorrow?". Ozai frowned before nodding "why not" and handed it to her. Azula nodded in relief and clutched the document to her chest "i will return for you to sign it after y/n has" and she set out to find you.

1 hour later

Two dai li agents and two fire nation nobles gathered as your witnesses. You and Azula stood beside one another as she explained the terms to you. Hearing her voice made you angry again so you just sighed "give it here". Azula paused "but i haven’t finished". "I don’t care i know what we agreed to and i know the fire nation is stubborn so you obviously put it all in there, i read it before i don’t need to read it now". Azula shrugged and handed it over. You signed it and managed not to flinch as you saw your name printed on the line. "Done" you said "i’m officially fire nation property". Azula didn’t reply, she stared at the contract her mind clearly elsewhere. "Azula?" you asked and she looked at you "what?". "I was saying...never mind, can i leave?". Azula nodded her head "yes" and she sushed from the room.

That night

You were still moping in your room unable to get any sleep when you heard yelling. Your room was annoyingly close to the firelord’s and so you could hear when he was in a mood and that was often. However this one seemed particularly bad. You heard many feet running past your room to his study and frowned. You opened your down and called to one of your guards “what’s going on with the fire lord?”. The guard frowned "i shouldn’t say princess". "Is it bad?" you asked as doors slammed shaking the palace "can you tell me that at least?". The man frowned and you looked at him, he was one of your dai li, a man named Guomir that you had known since you were a child. “Guomir please?” you asked. You kept your gaze on him and he eventually sighed rolling his eyes “okay but don’t tell anyone I told you”. You smirked and gestured for the him to come into your room. He shut the door and turned to you “If the rumours are to be believed it is in relation to your treaty". "What" you cried "but i haven’t done anything, i signed exactly where they told me to". "There was a hidden clause it seems and fire lord Ozai thinks you betrayed him over it". "Hidden clause?" you asked "but i didn’t even write the contract!". "Yes but he thinks you have wormed your way to those who did, it has ruined his plans for you". "What clause is it?". "A marriage clause, it prevents your marriage to the prince of the fire nation permanently".

You were called to the throne room an hour later despite the time and you walked in with your head held high. You saw the two officiates who had been there when you signed the contract and neither of them dared to meet your eye. They stood close to the princess Azula terrified and you were sure they both figured you were doomed and you supposed you were. You’d been summoned so abruptly you knew this wouldn’t be good but you surprisingly weren’t scared. You kept your head up as a few more people appeared in the room and then the doors were sealed shut. The fire lord entered and you managed not to jump as he slammed the door. "Lets not waste time, do you wish to confess?" Ozai barked at you. You stared at him and shook your head "i had no part of this, i signed where you told me to sign". "So you expect me to believe as the only person to gain from this you didn’t do it?". "She didn’t" someone spoke up and you froze. "I added it" Azula said simply. There was silence and then suddenly Ozai reacted. “Leave us” he yelled and you saw Azula flinch despite her brave face. The men filled from the room leaving you, Azula and Ozai. "Azula! You know what this marriage could’ve done, why did you do this?". "Because y/n is more use to us than as Zuko’s wife, she is a princess and we have her loyalty, we don’t need to hand too". Ozai rolled his eyes "but whoever else she marries has claim to the earth empire that could sway her loyalties. A marriage would’ve fixed that". "No it never would’ve ensure her loyalty and actually could’ve resulted in the opposite. The earth kingdom would know her and Zuko didn’t fall in love within a week, they’d see you were selling her off like cattle and we could’ve lost the city. We have her contractual word, we do not need anything else". “If she ever shows questionable loyalty” Ozai yelled in Azula’s face “I won’t just banish you, your fate won’t be that kind...do you understand?”. “Yes father” Azula said and she stared at the ground. Ozai pushed her and stormed from the room. You watched as Azula unclenched her fists and her hands shook in fear. She was terrified of her father and she risked his wrath for what possible reason?

You intended to find out but Azula didn’t seem keen on sticking around. “Azula” you called but she strode from the room following her father. Nobody telling you not to, you rushed after her calling her name. You caught her arm and she pushed you away “leave me alone I saved you what else do you want from me?”.  "An explanation, why did you do it?" you asked angrily "what do you want in return". "In return?" Azula asked confused and you nodded "well you don’t strike me as a person who does anything without expecting something in return. You must want payment". Azula’s angry expression relaxed and she looked at you "you're right i don't act for no reason but i do not expect payment actually". Your jaw dropped and it took you a few seconds to form a sentence "but....why?". Azula smiled and went to walk away. "No” you said grabbing her arm “please don’t...you’re the reason i’m here but you’re also the only one who acknowledges me and not just as someone to sell off...just tell me why you did it”. Azula brushed your hands off her and carried on walking. You sighed in defeat when suddenly she looked back “are you coming or not?”. You smirked and rushed after her.

Azula led you around the palace grounds and you stared like a tourist. You’d not been allowed free reign of the palace and so this was the most you’d seen of it. You were happy to walk in silence but Azula seemed to want to answer your last question. "I don’t agree with arranged marriages" she said suddenly "my father’s first attempt to arrange one for me was when i was 12, he said he would wait a few years of course but he was still planning it all out" she spat "so i made him a deal, if i finished at the academy with the best record anyone had ever seen, beating any man or woman who came before, he would postpone his plans. He agreed smugly and i smashed every single record ever set in this nation" Azula grinned "he never brought up the marriage again". You laughed "that’s amazing...how did you do it?". "I guess i’m just the best the fire nation has ever seen" Azula boasted and you found yourself agreeing "you must be...that or you’re the most determined one to ever exist. Either way that’s impressive". Azula stared at you as you said that making you blush at her smirk. "I know" she replied and you realised you’d reached the corridor of your apartments "it is late you should retire”. You nodded your head unable to meet her eye and Azula smiled “goodnight princess". She bowed never taking her eyes off you until she had to and when she did you felt cold. The princess may be hard to read but she was making things interesting. She was quickly becoming your favourite thing about this damn nation and something told you that wouldn’t be changing any time soon...

-----

[hermits-that-craft]

In My Dreams (Will You Remember Me?)

Flower Husbands Fic - Chapter Three - Where I Go

Ao3 in the comments

“Okay team, lets work out what our strengths are!” Katherine says, far too chiperly for 7am on a Tuesday. Pearl pats Jimmy’s back and he stares into a cup of coffee. “We need catering, building the new hall, and decorations. I’ll be working on the building, so its up to you three to decide the rest!”

“I’ll work on catering.” Pearl offers, smiling. “I’ll just need to know how many people are attending and potential allergies.”

“I’ll do decorations,” Gem smiles. “No offense, Jimmy, but you’re not the best at picking out decorations.”

“I do take offense, Gem,” Jimmy playfully teases. “I think cod heads could look lovely.”

“So you’ll help with building then, Jimmy?” Katherine asks, and Jimmy nods, taking a deep breath in.

“Can we start after I finish my coffee?” Jimmy asks, sending Katherine puppy dog eyes even though he knows she can’t see it through his mask.

“Go ahead.” Katherine says, and Jimmy lifts his mask slightly to skull down his coffee. “Gem, do you want to help with resources since you can’t exactly make decorations until later?”

“Sure.” The wizard says happily, and Jimmy sighs as he drains the last dregs of his coffee. Pearl gives him a sympathetic wince, as he prepares to spend the day with morning people.

“Oh, Jimmy, before you leave - do you know if anyone has any allergies?” Pearl asks, a pen in her hand. 

“I don’t, but I know Lizzie and I can’t digest nuts all that well.” Jimmy shrugs.

“Awesome, I’ll take nuts off the list.” Pearl writes it down in her book, and then nods towards the door. “I think you’d better try and catch up, those two are insane when they build.”

“Thanks,” Jimmy smiles, unseen by the farming queen. “I appreciate it.”

He doesn’t quiet catch the mumbled words, nor the guilty look that Pearl sends his way as he runs out of the hall, trying to catch up with the two queens.

“We should use amethyst for the roof. It looks so beautiful when you do, Katherine!”

“But if we use it for the floor, when people dance it sounds beautiful!”

“And cover up the patterns in dirt from peoples feet?”

“No ones going to come to the ball caked in mud, Gem.”

“My brothers-”

“Sausage and Fwip are the least likely to come in mud, and you know that.” Katherine rebuts before Gem can get a word in, and it takes all of Jimmy’s energy not to walk into Katherine’s meeting hall just to get away from the argument.

“You didn’t grow up with them.”

“Hey, ladies.” Jimmy says awkwardly. “While I know that this is an important discussion, we should probably lay the foundations first?”

The two women turn to Jimmy, who raises his hands in surrender.

“I’m just saying.”

“Amethyst on the roof or floor?” Gem asks, squinting at him.

“Whatever Katherine says, it’s her kingdom.” Jimmy says. “I don’t really use the block that much.”

“Yes! When we dance we will sound devine!” Katherine cheers, and Gem playfully rolls her eyes, smiling at the woman.

“Let's get building!”

----

Jimmy waves to Pearl as the woman flies back towards her kingdom, the telltale sound of rockets firing being the only tell that the woman has left. Gem leans against a support pillar, resting as Katherine brings the trio lunch. The sun beams down on them, and Jimmy makes his way to the shade of an oak tree. Katherine walks over as Jimmy waves at her, Gem jogging behind her.

“What are we having, chef?” Jimmy jokes, standing up to take the checkered picnic rug off of Katherine.

“Pulled pork, fresh bread with some apple cider that Pearl gave me this morning!” Katherine smiles as he puts the rug on the ground, carefully spreading it on the ground.  

Katherine puts down the picnic basket, and Gem helps her set up the cutlery as Jimmy pours them cider, half listening to the conversation the two women are having. Jimmy hums to himself, exchanging a glass of cider for a plate from Katherine. Gem takes a huge gulp of the cider, and pours herself some more when she thinks Katherine isn’t looking.

It’s like they’re kids again, having a picnic as their parents argue and make treaties. Gem’s brothers play fighting with Lizzie, Katherine hugging a sheep doll as Joel and Jimmy fight over the last piece of fairy bread that Pearl brought. Jimmy leans back, closing his eyes for a moment. It feels like yesterday, they were so carefree. So happy. No wars, no betrayals. They were kids.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Katherine says, snapping Jimmy out of his memories. “You look… Upset.”

“Thinking about the last time we had a picnic.” Jimmy says, taking a bite of his lunch. “Oh, this is heaven.”

“When we were kids?” Gem says, covering her mouth. “It’s been a while since we were that carefree.”

“Yeah, I miss it.”

“Speaking of missing things,” Gem says, focusing on Jimmy. “Any more nightmares?”

“How is that ‘speaking of missing things’?” Jimmy asks.

“You’re avoiding the question!”

“Nightmares?” Katherine asks, confusion lacing her expression. “You went to Gem about your nightmares?”

“They’re weird.” Jimmy says. “Perma-death and shadow people. There’s always a war.”

“Honestly, it sounds like you’re cursed.” Gem says, frowning.

“A war?” Katherine says. “Like, between our kingdoms?”

“No, it’s weird. I have a husband in the dream - but he’s still a shadow person - and we part ways before a war, or a battle?” Jimmy pauses, frowning. “I’m not sure, but we part ways. Then…”

“Then?” Katherine asks, putting her hand on top of Jimmy’s. “What happens next.”

“The battle begins. I watch my shadow husband get shot through the neck, and five minutes later I’m shot in the same place before I die. Like, Dead dead. Not coming back dead.” Jimmy swallows, avoiding the women’s faces. “And I always wake up screaming. Lizzie says that I bleed while I have those nightmares, but there’s never any blood anywhere so I think she’s lying.”

“Oh, Jimmy.” Katherine says, pulling him into a hug. Jimmy catches a glimpse of Gem’s face, her eyebrows furrowed in concern. “I’m so sorry. You didn’t have one last night, did you? I’d hate to force you to build while tired from something like that.”

“Uh,” Jimmy scratches the back of his neck, gently leaving the hug. “Not last night, no. Before the meeting, though.”

“I’m so-”

“If you say you’re sorry, Katherine, I’ll scream.” Jimmy says playfully. “It wasn’t a bad nightmare. I mean, that night all that happened was a dance, like it was before the actual fight. I just danced with the shadow husband. It wasn’t even a nightmare, just unsettling, I’ve never had a nightmare like that!” 

The group laughs, and Jimmy drinks some more cider, washing down the awkward conversation with cider and bad puns. Gem throws her head back, laughing as Katherine complains about how carefree her advisors are. Jimmy inputs a snarky remark about how her advisors let her do things, while all his do is worry about where he is, and what he’s doing. Katherine laughs at that, joking about how he’s got new parents in his advisors.

“Codfather, your advisors have requested that I inform you that there’s a meeting with some merchants that you can’t miss.” A young axolotl hybrid says, pushing his hair behind his ears. “Apologies for interrupting, Lady Katherine and Lady Gemini.”

“There’s no problem.” Katherine says. “House Blossom understands that you’re just doing your job.”

“Yeah, don’t worry kid. Go on home, we’ll force Jimmy to make it to his meeting.” Gem says, and the trio pretend they don’t notice the relief in the young adults shoulders as they run from the three leaders. 

“I think we scared them.” Jimmy says.

“He did seem nervous.” Katherine agrees. “But we did promise him that we’d make you go to your meeting-”

“Yes, yes. I’m going, Katherine.” Jimmy rolls his eyes.

“Good luck!” Gem calls out, watching as he flies off. 

The two women wait until he’s disappeared over the horizon, before they both settle into worried expressions. Katherine places a hand over her neck, frowning at the ground as Gem gives the sky a look of desperation.

“Do you really think that he’s cursed?” Katherine mumbles, avoiding Gem’s eyes.

“I hate to imagine the alternative.” Gem says. “Jimmy’s kind, a bit weak, but kind. The idea that Xornoth’s using him, and has been since he was a child…”

“Using him?”

“Putting in false memories to make Jimmy trust him.” Gem says, her eyes settling on a spot over Katherine’s shoulder. “Oh no.”

“What?” Katherine’s breath hitches in her throat. “What is it.?”

“Don’t look. Don’t look at him.” Gem says, placing an amethyst crystal into Katherine’s hands. “Xornoth’s here.”

“GUARDS!” Katherine shrieks as Gem stands up, purple magic swirling out of her eyes as she stares down the demon. “RED ALERT!”

[katehuntington]

Title: Ride With Me (part 25) Fandom: Supernatural Timeline: 2008 Pairing: Dean x Reader Word count: ±6900 words Summary series: Y/N is a talented horse rider who is on her way to become a professional. In order to convince her father that she deserves the loan needed to start her own farm, she goes to Arizona for six months, to intern at a ranch owned by Bobby and Ellen Singer. Her future is set out, but then she meets a handsome horseman, who goes by the name of Dean Winchester. A heartwarming series about a cowboy who falls for the girl, letting go of the past and the importance of family. Summary part 25: Y/N and Dean struggle with the aftermath of their split. Working together proves to be difficult, but other relationships within the ranch family took a hit as well. When the cowboy thinks the day can’t get much worse, complications arise, forcing him to make yet another difficult decision. Warnings series: NSFW, 18+ only! Fluff,  angst, eventually smut. Swearing, smoking, alcohol intoxication, alcohol abuse. Mutual pining, heartbreak, slowburn. Crying, nightmares, childhood  trauma. Description of animal abuse, domestic violence, mentions of  addiction. Financial problems, stress, mental breakdown. Description of  blood and injury, hospital scenes, character death, grief. Music: (opening scene) The Eye - Brandi Carlile. (Ride with Meadow scene) Home - Hans Zimmer. Follow ‘Kate Huntington’s Ride With Me playlist’ on Spotify! Author’s note: Beta’d by my mom (yes, you read that right. My mom reads my stuff and is on Tumblr). Thank you, @girl-with-a-fandom-fettish​​, @kittenofdoomage​​, @manawhaat​​, @waywardbeanie​​, @atc74​​​​​, and @winchest09​​​​​ for helping me with this story. Also a special thanks to @jules-1999​​​​​, who has offered me her knowledge about rodeo events like these, and @squirrelnotsam​​​​​, who knows Arizona like the back of her hand.

Ride With Me Masterlist

     With frustrated motions, Y/N stuffs her clothes into a bag, not even bothered to sort the items out. Her cheeks are tear-stained once again and she wipes at them angrily. Stop crying, it won’t get you anywhere, she scolds herself, done with feeling this emotional. After all, today is Monday, just another day at the ranch, and they have a lot of work to do. Garth and Ellen did the necessary stable work, but the horses which are usually trained by Jo, Dean, and herself had three days off while their riders were in Flagstaff. 

     Dean. Just the name reverberating in her head forces her to pause her actions. She dips her chin, closes her eyes, and takes a breath. Why? That’s the question she keeps asking herself. Why did he break up with her? Why did he pretend to care, only to hurt her the way he did? Why has he become so bitter, so selfish, so unlike the man she thought he was?

     The questions remain unanswered, and she doesn’t expect they will give her any consolation either. That was the whole issue to begin with, wasn’t it? He can’t be honest. Apparently, he doesn’t think she’s capable of bearing the load he is meant to share with his partner. Apparently, she’s not good enough. Just like she didn’t meet her first boyfriend’s standards, who got tired of her spending more time with her horses than with him. Her second relationship ended in a fiasco as well, this time it was his jealousy of her success that caused the split. Yesterday proved that the third time clearly isn’t a charm. But neither of her previous significant others ever caused a cataclysm as the one Dean has left behind. Her heart is a wasteland now.

     “Are you leaving?”      She’s pulled away from her thoughts by Jo’s voice, her tone matching the horrified expression on her face. She stands in the doorway, looking down at the open suitcase on the floor and the unzipped bag. All of a sudden, Y/N realizes what the scene must look like.      “No. I’m just sorting out my washing,” she says quickly.      “Oh…” the blonde cowgirl sighs, relieved. “For a second there I thought--”      “I won’t let your scumbag cousin chase me away, Jo,” her friend assures her.

     Truth be told, though, she has been thinking about it. Last night she had typed down her information on a booking website, ready to confirm her flight back to Freeport, but as her finger hovered over the ‘confirm’ button, she closed the tab and slammed her laptop closed. The intern came here on a mission. She is going to prove to her parents and to herself that she has what it takes to run her own ranch and that she deserves that business loan. She is not going to abort just because her heart is broken, come hell or high water.

     “Well, good. I would have roped you like a cow and tied you to the saddle anyway,” Jo scoffs, leaning against the doorframe. 

     The cowgirl chuckles as she collects the last of her dirty laundry, zips up the bag, and puts it on the bed. The sight of the not-particularly comfortable mattress has her wishing she could crawl back under the covers and get some much-needed sleep. That’s not an option, however, and so she takes her hat from the corner bedpost and places it on her head. Before she goes out, she quickly checks her makeup in the mirror, but thankfully her tears haven’t smudged her waterproof eyeliner and mascara, and her foundation is still covering the bags under her eyes. It’s been a while since she hid behind the beauty-products, but the confidence Dean gave her has disappeared the second he ended their relationship, so she put her mask back on. There is no way she will give her ex-boyfriend the satisfaction of witnessing just how broken she is.

     Y/N inhales deeply and squares her shoulders, lifting her chin as she stares at her reflection. The woman who looks back at her is fierce and resilient; the complete opposite of the little girl that’s hiding inside. Of course, she doesn’t want to face the day nor the man who hurt her, but she is left with no choice. There is so much more at stake here; her future, her career. This is business, and she will treat it as such. Y/N glances at Jo, giving her a nod, and her friend smiles faintly doing the same.

     Rubbing his tired eyes, Dean pours himself his third cup of coffee. Saying that he had a rough night, is putting it mildly. The first digit of his alarm clock had already changed into a ‘2’ when he finally drifted off, only to jolt awake an hour and a half later, his bedsheets clinging to his sweat-covered skin. For the first time in years, a nightmare has caused havoc, images of his worst memories coming through cracks in the walls he built around all that childhood trauma. After freshening up, he laid in bed again while last night’s events alternated with those same disturbing scenes he saw in his dreams, the sad motion picture of sorrow and heartbreak projected on the ceiling. He gave up on sleeping around four-thirty in the morning, got dressed, and sat out on the porch until the sun came up. But no matter how hard he focused on the sounds of the night that tried to soothe him, he couldn't get her out of his mind. The pain laced in her desperate voice, the tears that fell because of him. But after those hurtful images, he also remembers that bright smile, her giggles, the sparkle in her eyes when she has achieved something. Her tenderness, her touch… It hasn’t even been twelve hours and he’s already craving Y/N, fighting an addiction for a drug he can never have again. The girl who is no longer his Yankee.

     A door squeaks and Dean glances aside, immediately redirecting his gaze back to the coffee mug on the small kitchen counter when Y/N comes into view, followed suit by Jo. Instantly, the tension in the living room shoots through the roof, the crooked, little bunkhouse barely able to maintain the strain. He doesn’t say anything, but thankfully Garth and Benny do exchange a ‘good morning’ with the girls, the silence interrupted by the casual exchange. 

     He spots her perfectly applied makeup, her hair tied back in a tight ponytail that doesn’t  allow a single strand to escape the rubber band. Her shirt is neatly tucked into her jeans, ironed and spotless, just like the day when she arrived at the ranch. Even though she looks breathtaking, the vision saddens him; she’s back to being the woman who needs to have everything under control. He gets it, though, because when she took his advice to loosen up, she let her guard down. If she had kept both hands on the reins, Y/N would have never allowed him to get so close and comfortable. Dean only made things worse for her, and now she was left to pick up the pieces of all that he broke.

     Without saying a word, he grabs his coffee and pushes the door handle down to make his exit, not wanting to make her life more difficult than he already has.

     Ultimately, this Monday was bound to get worse with every passing minute. Dean decided to get an early start before breakfast and got on the tractor, but when the ranch hand tried to back up in order to drag the arena, he couldn't get the old John Deere into reverse. A glance underneath soon determined why and he exclaimed a loud ‘fuck!’ when he detected the puddle of gearbox-oil on the dusty ground. Turning the fresh horses out only added to his agitation, especially when the youngsters stirred up the palomino stallion Led while the wrangler was hand-walking him. The Quarter is still recovering from the nasty tendon injury he suffered on the job, and isn’t supposed to be bouncing off the concrete like a rubber ball on a leash, but tell that to an energetic horse who has barely been out of his box for the past month. Garth readied a horse for his boss, which he managed to ride before breakfast, but Dean was unfocused and gave up after thirty minutes.

     Now, they were all quietly eating their breakfast, the delicious meal giving them some consolation. Ellen observes the awfully silent crew, exchanging a look with her daughter, who with a slow shake of her head tells her mother to not bring it up, and so she doesn’t. The head wrangler is the first to get up from his seat, rinse his plate in the sink, and return to the stables. The others follow his example, the barn soon buzzing with activity. 

     Y/N works like a dog, mucking out the stable in record time without pausing. It’s a good distraction for her reeling mind, the hard labor ridding her of the frustration that boils her blood whenever she thinks of the man who ruined her faith in true love. Garth, sensing that the intern was fine on her own, took the tough job of raking the arena by hand, since machinery has let them down. Meanwhile, Jo and Dean train the animals as per usual, but there’s no bantering between them during the cool down. In fact, the wrangler’s cousin has decided to ignore him altogether. 

     Getting more irritated with every second passing, the horseman dismounts the six-year-old gelding named Santana, deciding that a light workout is enough for today. The wrangler is always careful to not let his emotions bleed into his work, but he’s finding it difficult to keep himself in check. Jo has already parked her horse next to the bay Quarter and has tacked down the buckskin without granting Dean a look. He sighs; Jo is not easily going to forgive him for hurting her friend, but he still tries to break the stifling silence.

     “Can you pass me the water?” he asks, nodding at the yellow garden hose that’s rolled up by the faucet.      Without even granting him a look, the ranch owner’s daughter throws the showerhead in his direction, the nozzle clattering on the tiles in front of Dean’s feet. He sighs, annoyed.      “So this is how it’s gonna be?” he scoffs. “I get that you’re mad, but you can at least t--”      “I have nothing to say to you,” she snaps. 

     It’s not the first time Jo is angry with him, because the two have a habit of getting on each other’s nerves. This time it’s different, though, and the bitterness in her tone sends a clear message that he has burned his bridges. Gritting his teeth, he lets the comment slide, deciding that it’s useless to fire back a counter. She has a solid point after all; he doesn’t deserve her sympathy in the slightest. Figuring that these will be the only words they exchange for at least a couple of days, the cowboy begins to hose down Santana, when Jo turns on her heels with her horse’s lead rope in one hand and her fist firmly planted on her waist.      “You know what? I do have something to say. You just don’t get to speak in return,” she kicks off, about to unleash her wrath.      Dean lifts his gaze from the dirt and sweat that he’s washing out of his horse’s coat, for the first time looking into his cousin’s fiery eyes. The petit cowgirl, who is easily nine inches shorter than the man before her, is intimidating nonetheless. He takes a breath, bracing himself for impact. Here it comes.

     “You’re a cold-hearted, spineless, self-absorbed dick, know that? For once in your life, you’ve got something good goin’, someone who was willing to look past your gigantic ego and your daddy issues, yet the first thing you do when life gets tough, is drop her like a hot potato. Do you have any idea how much pain you’ve caused the poor girl? Because I do! She wouldn’t want me to tell you this, but she cried for hours, hours, and that’s on you! Guess who had to comfort her, huh?” Jo goes off. “I am so far past mad; I am furious! I really thought you had finally found a reason to change into something better than the abbreviated piece of nothing that you are now, but it seems like Y/N wasn’t the only one who was naive.”      “You done?” the wrangler says coldly when she pauses to catch her breath.      “Go hump a cactus, Dean,” she sneers.

     With those words, Jo strides away, the large animal next to her obediently following her, well aware that now is not the time to be stubborn. The man who’s left with the poignant insults still echoing inside his head, pulls at his bottom lip with his teeth, staring at his feet for a second before he sniffs and focuses on the task at hand again. He might have pretended that her message left him unbothered, but the opposite is true. Jo could as well slap him across the face; it would hurt less. 

     Defeated, the wrangler takes Santana to his box and removes the halter from the large animal’s head. The sweet horse seeks contact, nudging her nose against Dean’s shoulder. He rubs the Quarter’s withers before he exits the stable, appreciating the only kindness that he’s received so far this morning.

     “Dean?”      He tenses, not expecting his name to fall off the lips of the woman who he parted from only yesterday. When the cowboy meets her gaze, the look Y/N gives him is as cold as the tone of her voice.      “I need a word,” she says, although it sounds more like a demand.      “S - sure,” he stutters, glancing down briefly before he looks back up again, suddenly nervous. He’s not sure if he can handle being scolded by his ex-girlfriend as well.      “I don’t think it’s a good idea for us to work together anymore,” she states formally. “I’d like a new supervisor.”

     Dean cocks his head back slightly, unbalanced by the appeal. He rubs his temple, averting his eyes but then nods, acknowledging that she’s probably right, even though the request is a painful one.      “Yeah, uh - sure. I’ll ask Garth,” he stammers, estimating that he would be the obvious choice since she’s so close with Jo. He wouldn’t want their friendship to be tainted by the difference in rank.      “Okay,” the intern responds, her expression stark and strained, before she walks past him.

     Motionless, the head wrangler remains on his spot, setting his jaw and closing his eyes for a second. Somehow, he didn’t expect their first exchange to be strictly business. Her stance is so different from what he’s grown used to. Even on the night they met when she gave him a hard time, the tension between them didn’t feel as heavy as it does now. He realized when he called it quits that she would struggle with his decision, but Jo’s confirmation that she spent most of last night crying over their separation has him desperate to ease the pain.

     “Y/N…” he says softly while turning before she’s too far gone to pick up on his voice.      “I have work to do,” she cuts off, shooting him a short glare over her shoulder.

     Dean swallows thickly while watching her leave, fast and determined strides taking her as far away from him as possible. Damn it, he really did ruin his chances of even maintaining any sort of a friendship, didn’t he? He’s not sure what else he expected after the way they parted, but despite the loathing and vexed look she just shot him that feels like a bullet to the heart, he’s glad. Let her be angry, let her hate him. It will be easier for her to deal with those emotions, than just the overwhelming sense of sadness. He knows, because he hasn’t felt this devastated, empty, and incomplete since his family fell apart; he’s talking from experience.      Wishing the day was over already, the cowboy adjusts his hat and gets back to work, hoping that riding will offer him the therapy he so desperately needs.

     Unfortunately, the day doesn’t pass by nearly as fast as Dean would like to. After riding five horses, he, Benny, and Garth use their lunch break to look at the beat-up tractor that once again has let them down. The head wrangler doesn’t mind skipping his midday meal; he would rather avoid sitting across from Y/N in a room overflowing with awkwardness, plus, he’s not hungry anyway. 

     The machine from 1979 was bound to die on the crew sooner than later, but after the farrier slash mechanic discovers metal particles in the gearbox fluid, it becomes clear that a simple oil change isn’t going to cut it this time.      “Yep, she’s toast,” Benny sighs, wiping his dirty hands with a cloth.      “Just what we need,” his friend grunts. He’s not looking forward to his uncle’s response to the setback. “I’ll tell Bobby.”      “I can if you want me to,” the stable boy - who is also responsible for the machinery - offers.      Dean purses his lips slightly, his thumbs hooked through the belt loops of his jeans while he stares at the old John Deere absently. “Nah, I’ll do it. I got a question for you, though. Do you mind supervising Y/N from now on?”      Garth shakes his head, taking in his boss, somewhat confused. “No, not at all.”      “Good,” the wrangler replies quickly, thankful that the slender employee takes on the task without question. The clueless young man didn’t pick up on the relationship between Dean and the intern to begin with, and he would rather keep him in the dark, especially now that it has ended. He knocks on the rusty hood of the tractor before he heads off. “I’ll see y’all in a bit. Can you start rolling out the hay to the pastures with the wheelbarrows? It’s gonna take a hell of a lot longer without this old thing.”

     The shade inside the stables is welcoming, and not just because it offers cooler temperatures. Dean’s eyes are still painfully sore from the lack of sleep and he rubs at them again, trying to stop them from burning. Shit, and it’s only Monday, he sighs to himself. The three-day event over the weekend means no time off for the employees who attended. The last time he didn’t have to show up at seven in the morning or earlier was late September, which means that he has been working twelve-hour plus shifts for fourteen days straight now. Work never stops on a ranch. The horses depend on him; they will always need food, a clean stable and exercise, no matter how tired, lovesick, or miserable he is. 

     The cafeteria is already empty. His aunt is probably at the guesthouses to change the sheets and towels, giving the accommodations a quick once-over. However, he finds a post-it on the long table with his name on it; ‘Don’t forget to eat. Bacon sandwiches are in the fridge - Ellen’. As the cowboy smiles for the first time today, he wonders if Bobby has told his wife anything about John’s unexpected visit in Flagstaff, hoping that he hasn’t. Knowing his aunt, she’s going to sit him down for some sweet tea and a talk, even though previous attempts of having a conversation as such proved to be unsuccessful. He appreciates her concern, though, the idea of his surrogate mom caring about him offering Dean some solace.

     The wrangler walks through the high barn doors on the other side, the sun doing its very best to cheer him up, but the rays don’t reach his soul. He makes his way to the Singer’s home, reckoning he will find Bobby there. As per usual, Dean takes off his hat and hangs it on the coat hanger, kicking off his boots before he proceeds to the office in the back of the house. After knocking, he pushes the door ajar, finding his uncle behind his desk. The place is still a mess, but the occupant’s features aren’t draped in shadows like the last time he was here. The blinders are open, the window a passe-partout of the Joshua tree, together with the paddocks and pastures surrounding it. 

     The rancher looks up when his nephew enters. “Hey, son. How’s the tractor comin’?”      “Well, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but it’s fried. The oil is swimming with debris,” Dean tells, taking a seat on the other side of the desk.      “Metal?” Bobby questions. When the young man across from him nods, he curses. “Balls!”

     Dean presses his lips into a firm line, keeping still in the worn chair to prevent it from squeaking. His uncle seemed to be in a good mood after the successful show, but he can tell that this setback has put a strain on the old man’s frame of mind. 

     “You’re gonna call the service station?” the head wrangler wonders.      “No, that’s gonna cost us. We finally managed to make some money, I ain’t planning on spending it on that damned thing.” The rancher adjusts his ball cap before leaning back in his chair. “You boys can give it a go first, open up that gearbox, see what’s broken. I’ll order parts once you figure out what’s wrong with that piece of shit.”

     Scribbling something down on a piece of paper, Bobby sighs, but then returns his focus to Dean. “There’s somethin’ else I need to discuss with you.”      His right-hand raises his eyebrows slightly, his interest peaked. “What’s that?”      “It’s about Cain,” his uncle murmurs. “Apparently MacLeod didn’t tell the entire story.”      Dean scoffs, shaking his head. “Should I be surprised? I’m not sure what kinda vibes you picked up from that shady dude, but I sure as hell don’t trust him for the life of me.”      “I don’t either. That’s why I think we should reconsider that deal.” Bobby rests his elbows on the armrests of his chair, forking his fingers together in his lap. He expected some resistance from Dean, but not such a strong reaction as his nephew fires back.

     “What?! Are you serious?” he counters, perplexed. “You’re just gonna wipe it off the table?”      “Not ‘just’, but we need to consider our options,” his boss returns.      “How many options do we have exactly? Because the way I see it, this arrangement is a pretty damn good one. It’s good money, a steady income with the prospect of a huge bonus, not to mention what doors it might open for the future. This horse might be the break we need,” Dean advocates, remembering Y/N’s words clearly when she summed up all the possibilities that Cain might bring with him. “Look, I know Fergus is a proper dick, but he has a reputation to protect. There’s too much at stake for him, and I don’t believe he will double-cross us. If we deliver, he’s gonna pay good bucks.”      “And that’s where we might have a problem; actually delivering,” Bobby returns, taking in his head wrangler.      Dean draws his head back, slightly hurt, frowning at his uncle’s words. “You don’t think I can get the job done?”      “I’m not sure if anyone can, son,” the owner of the Gold Canyon Ranch states calmly. “The horse doesn’t just have ‘some behavioral issues’, as Fergus put it. He’s unapproachable, unpredictable, aggressive. That stallion is dangerous to everyone in a square mile radius. Jody rang me this morning to warn us.”      “Jody?” the cowboy returns, puzzled. He’s aware that the female rancher knows a lot of people in this business, but he didn’t expect the news of the famous stallion’s arrival would spread so fast. “How did she even know that Cain was coming to us?”      “Because MacLeod is a client of hers. Cain is currently in her stables.”

     Dean’s eyebrows hit his hairline, emerald greens staring over the desk at the man on the other side. While gaping at his uncle, questions begin to race through his mind. Jody did business with Fergus? Jody is a good trainer with excellent judgment, so if she claims Cain is untrainable, that says something. Their last conversation in Flagstaff comes to mind, the news about Gabe’s hospitalization shocking him at the time. Could his friend’s injuries be the stallion’s doing?

     Bobby watches his trusted worker process the information, rolling his chair a little closer and resting his forearms on the varnished wood, closing his hand over his fist. “I know this complicates things, but I’m gonna leave it up to you. If you think you can handle the stallion, I will trust your judgment. But I don’t want you to risk your neck for the money, Dean. We will find another way.”

     The horseman chews on his lip as he ponders, his focus capturing nothing in particular as his eyes flick over the items and documents on the desk. “We’ll have a week to evaluate him. I’ll make the call after that,” he decides. “Mind if I contact Jody to get some insight on what I’m up against?”      “Knock yourself out,” Bobby consents. “Just leave the numbers that we agreed to out of it.”      “Will do.” 

     Dean gets up from his seat, pushing the chair closer to the desk before he intends to slip out of the office before he’s stopped by his boss.      “One more thing,” the wise man says, looking over his enclosed hands. “What’s going on with you and the intern?”

     Caught, the head wrangler freezes, eyes wide with shock and pure horror staring into the hallway. Shit. How the hell is he going to answer that? Is he referring to the dance at the opening night of the horse show or the palpable tension that has surrounded the former couple whenever they were in close range of each other? Dean doesn’t know, but he has the feeling that the continuation of this conversation is going to be anything but pleasant. Composing himself before he turns back to face his uncle.

     “Nothin’. What do you mean?” He shrugs as the corners of his mouth draw down, pretending to be careless.      “Don’t play dumb, boy. I was born at night, but not last night.” Bobby glares at him knowingly. “Are you messin’ around with her?”      “No,” Dean says firmly, the truth in his words hurting him deep down.      His uncle lifts his chin, holding the cowboy’s gaze while narrowing his eyes. It’s clear that he’s not buying. “You wanna explain then why you two were like two peas in a pot in Flagstaff, but can’t even look at each other now?”

     With his hand still on the door handle, his nephew attempts to keep his act together, but then he sighs. Damn it, he was so close to making it out of this meeting alive. Oh well, what’s one more lecture, right?

     “Look, there’s nothing going on, not anymore. I - uh, I got carried away and I shouldn’t have let it,” he admits. “I broke it off. It won’t happen again.”      “Is this gonna be a problem?” his boss asks sternly. “If you two can’t work together--”      “It isn’t. Garth will supervise her from now on. Just to prevent any issues in the future,” he continues, hoping the fact that they actually discussed how to carry on as colleagues from this point forward will put the concern to rest.

     “There better be a future for her here on this ranch. I can’t afford to lose a free worker, especially not one as skilled as she is,” Bobby warns, not convinced. “I’d pray that she won’t pack her bags if I were you, ‘cause I’ll give ya one guess who’s gonna have to work twice as hard and whose ass I’m gonna bust.”      “She won’t leave,” his head wrangler guarantees, willing to bet his life on it. 

     His promise might seem based on a hopeful hunch, but Y/N hasn’t given Dean any indication to question her professionalism. She even approached him in order to change the conditions of her internship, which couldn’t have been easy for her. Their interaction will be minimized and strictly business from now on, something he reckons she will handle much more gracefully than he will, simply because she has a bigger purpose to focus on. This placement is a stepping stone to her dream of owning her own ranch, and that goal hasn’t changed. He knows she won’t leave Gold Canyon.

     Bobby observes his nephew, still bothered by the fact that he didn’t listen to him when he specifically told the bachelor not to get involved with the intern. He’s going to save the rant for another time, though, the sight of an already dejected man before him having him hold back. It seems like this is doing a number on young fellow, and considering how they were with each other at the horse show this weekend, he’s not surprised. The two reminded him of his twenties when he first got together with his Ellen. The boy is hurting, more than he lets on.      “Alright then. Get goin’, I’ve got bills to pay,” he eventually says, shooing Dean out with a flick of the wrist.

     Relieved that his uncle is cutting him some slack, he nods and silently pulls the door shut, putting a barrier between himself and the conversation he has been dreading for weeks. If only he could be able to tell Bobby that he’s with the girl he’s in love with; he would have taken the grumpy rebuke with a grin on his face. If only.

     While stepping outside, the cowboy pulls his cellphone from his jeans pocket, looking up Jody Mills’ number in his contacts. He begins to slowly stroll back and forth on the porch in its sheltering shade, the floorboards moaning and cracking under his boots as he waits with his Nokia pressed against his ear. The steady tone beeps twice before his friend picks up.      “Hey,” it sounds from the other side of the line. “I was hoping you’d call.”      “Yeah, Bobby told me about Cain,” he returns. “Kinda complicates things, don’t it?”      “I need to listen to me very carefully,” Jody starts, earnest and worried. “Do not take that horse into your stable.”

     The cowboy sighs, glancing over the land while hooking his thumb behind his belt. He figured the female rancher would try to convince him to back off.      “It’s good money, Jody, and I’ve handled difficult cases before. Cain deserves a shot. I have to try.”      “I get it, but hear me out. If Fergus offered you a deal that seems too good to be true, that’s because it is. I know you’re an excellent trainer, hell, the best that I know. But I’m telling you, we’re not talking about a stallion with some authority issues here. That horse is twisted, has wires crossed. I have never seen such behavior,” she presses. “So many people have tried to straighten him out already. I did some digging, and Fergus’ supposedly ‘million dollar prospect’ has moved in and out nine different stables over the past year. No one has succeeded.”

     He ponders, not taking her warning lightly. Jody is an experienced equestrian who has dealt with many tough animals. She even passed some horses on to him when she couldn’t get through to them. The woman is well aware of the limits to her expertise and has always been honest with clients when a horse was too much for her to handle, but never before has she doubted that the wrangler from the Gold Canyon Ranch could do the job.

     “When Gabe got hurt, was it…?” Dean wonders, hesitant, not finishing his sentence.      “It was Cain.”

     He sets his jaw, the muscles flexing under his stubble. Although he assumed it was the stallion who has put his former colleague into the hospital, it still shocks him. He continues to pace the deck in front of the Singer’s home.      “How is he doing?” he wonders.      Jody pulls in a deep breath, the message she’s about to deliver clearly a difficult one. “He’s never gonna walk again. Paralyzed from the waist down.”

     Dean closes his eyes and swallows thickly. It’s the outcome they all feared, but hearing the confirmation makes his gut churn. Losing one's legs is a nightmare for everyone, but for a rider? He can’t possibly picture it, becoming wheelchair-bound. Honestly, he would rather die than to never be able to get in the saddle again.

     “Dean, I know you believe every horse deserves a second chance, but please, let this one go. He is beyond repair. I’m not asking, I’m begging,” she pleads, a tremor in her voice. “If you take on Cain, it’s only a matter of time before you get hurt, or worse.” 

     The words are backed up by a heavy silence. The two stay quiet for a while, the words sinking in with the wrangler. Flight animals fueled by fear can do either two things; run or attack. If getting away from the supposed threat is impossible, they tend to go for the last. It’s not something the horse will even think about; it’s a survival instinct. When a naturally kind creature takes a turn like that, it becomes a thousand-pound killing machine. If Cain is truly that far gone, it is likely that he is indeed beyond saving. The trainer has to see it for himself, though, and not just because the ranch can use the cash. He realizes that if he doesn’t take on this task, someone else will, someone with less experience. If this stallion is really that lethal, the next novice trainer might make an error of judgment that will be his or her last. At least Dean has the skills. It seems like he is Cain’s last resort, because if he isn’t trainable, he will get the bullet at some point. He wouldn’t be the first horse to be put down because of similar problems.

     “Thanks for the warning, Jody,” he responds after a long pause. “I’ll keep it in mind.”      “Dean--”      “I know. I know what you’re gonna say, but if I don’t do this, who knows what might happen to him. I’ve got a week to decide if we wanna go through with it. That’s the least I can do.”      He can hear his friend grunt, frustrated, probably realizing that changing his mind was a long shot to begin with. “Just… be careful, okay?”      “I will, promise,” Dean assures. “Talk to you later.”

     The cowboy hangs up, staring at his phone for a few more seconds before he puts it away and steps out into the sun, heading back to the stables. The admonition continues to ring in his ears, and he allows the caution to imprint the decisions he needs to make in the upcoming days. After all, warned is forearmed.

     Y/N wishes anyone had warned her how painful it is to have her heart broken by the person who made it beat just for him. Maybe she would have been more mindful then, more guarded. Maybe she wouldn’t have let him have it, had she known how careless he would be.

     Around 5 o’clock, her new supervisor said it was okay if she wanted to take her own horse for a ride. Normally she trains Meadow either before or after shift, but she got all the work done at record speed, desperate for a distraction, that all her daily tasks were fulfilled two hours before dinner. Maybe Garth detected that she needed some alone-time with her four-legged friend, because he suggested the ride with a sympathetic smile and a kind nudge, sending her towards the Quarter’s box.

     After straightening out the saddle pad, the cowgirl tightens the cinch. Meadow, who can be a bit of a grumpy mare when it comes to tacking up, stands still without moving a muscle, allowing her owner to ready her for a ride without pulling a prank like she usually does. Sometimes the cheeky horse will try to fish Y/N’s phone from her back pocket, nibble at her hat or her sleeve, or refuse to take a step aside when requested, but not today. Maybe she can sense that such an action could set her human off. 

     The horse accepts the bit when the cowgirl offers it to her, after which she pulls the headpiece over Meadow’s black-tipped ears, securing the straps skillfully. She sniffles, wiping her nose and forcing herself to keep her composure a little while longer. In a few minutes, when she’s away from prying eyes, she will allow to let the tears flow again, but not now, not yet.

     Y/N unties her horse, places her left foot in the stirrup, and swings her right leg over the back of her bay mare, softly landing in the saddle. Picking up the reins, she steers her horse away from the tack up area, the smooth leather between her fingers giving her a sense of control that she’s missing in her love life. 

     Instead of leading Meadow towards the arena, the rider guides her towards the gate that leads to the trail. Her horse had an eventful weekend and gave it her all in competition, so it wouldn’t be fair to put her through a full workout. The performance took a lot out of the willing horse who never seizes to bring her best efforts and more. Even though the freestyle only lasted minutes, the athlete peaked with a brilliant execution of the routine, which takes a lot of skill and strength. Then there’s the ambiance of a show, the new environment, all the sensory overload. The combination of all those factors did a number the Quarter, and she deserves a calm and relaxing ride, much like the young woman she’s carrying on her back. Y/N is in no state to train, well aware that the heightened emotions will get the best of her if something might not work out the way she planned, and that’s not something she wants her companion to bear the consequences of. If anything, Meadow has been absolutely wonderful, seeming to understand that her person is sad and needs someone to lean on.

     After closing the fence behind them, the girl and her horse follow the path that leads towards the hills. Cacti flank the road ahead towards the Superstition Mountains, which stand tall in the backdrop. The beautiful amber colored volcanic rock formations seem even more vibrant now that the setting sun blesses nature with a warm glow. The vegetation is much greener than it was when they searched for the herd of youngsters in the reservoir. Autumn is here, and within a couple of months, the ridges that reach for the sky will be covered in snow. It’s supposed to be a beautiful sight, at least that’s what Dean told her.

     Now that it’s just her and Meadow, Y/N finally allows the suppressed tears to fall. The battle she has been fighting all day is one she knew she would lose eventually, she just wanted to be with her most faithful friend when the levee breaks. She doesn’t even intend to wipe the drops of despair away, knowing that she has to let it out now in order to keep up the facade later. And so the last rays of the day catch the shimmering pathways down her cheeks, similar to how the water cobbled at Willow’s Creek, where she and Dean shared their first kiss. All the memories, those perfect little moments that she thought to cherish forever, they are worth nothing now. It was all just a dream.

     Y/N transits into a slow canter, hoping that the wind in her face will chase the sorrow away. She has to feel something completely opposite to the grief that is ripping her apart. She needs to experience freedom and the bond that comes along with this unique partnership between her and Meadow, the simplicity of moving across the desert like men and their horses have been doing so for centuries. No engines, no computers, no engineering. Just two souls of completely different species merging as one. 

     Resting her free hand on her horse’s neck and gripping the black mane, she pushes her heels into the Quarter’s flanks, aiding her to pick up speed. The bay mare takes over, her rider is no longer in control, but she no longer has to be. Y/N doesn’t need to direct this movie, because she trusts Meadow with her life. If there is any being on the face of the planet that she would follow blindly, it’s her companion. Meadow has never let her down, not once, and her owner knows there will never come a moment when she will. And so she breathes in, welcoming the wind to fill her lungs with newfound courage, brought on by the majestic animal that gallops across the landscape, carrying Y/N on her wings. 

Thank you for reading. I appreciate every single one of you, but if   you do want to give me some extra love, you are free to like or reblog   my work, shoot me a message or buy me coffee (Link to Kofi in bio at the top of the page).

Read part twenty-six here

[jawritter]

Just A Dream Pt. 2

Warnings: Soft Smut? Angst, hurt feelings, unrequited/requited love, swearing...I think that’s it...

Word Count: 4223

Summary: The Reader is captured by a Djinn, and shown a reality that she’d always dreamed of. Only to have it ripped away from her when she was saved by Dean. It’s not as easy to recover from as one may think.

Beta’d by the lovely @deanwanddamons​ Thanks again, love! 

A/N: Part One was submitted for @winchester-fantasies​ 1000 follower challenge, and you guys immediately started to ask for Pt 2! So here it is!! Sorry It took so long guys!! Hope you all enjoy this one! Feedback is gold! So feel free to let me know what you think!!

Want More? Check out my Masterlist!! 

***MASTERLIST***

Haven’t read Pt. 1 yet? Read it HERE!!

Slowly you make your way down the iron staircase leading into the bunker, a tight grip on Dean’s arm as he supported most of your body weight. 

You were still very weak from the Djinn almost completely draining you before Dean was able to come in. He found you strung up in the abandoned warehouse like a damn piece of meat hanging in a meat locker, and you were pretty sure at least one of your ribs were either fractured, or bruised, but you refused to go to the hospital to have it checked out.

Instead, you insisted that Dean make the little over 8 hour drive from Dallas to Lebanon instead of getting a room or getting you checked out. 

You were able to doze on and off the entire ride home, aside from Dean pulling over at some greasy joint, and making you eat a hamburger and drink something. 

It was easier to sleep than it was to face the heartache you felt every time you looked at Dean…

The dream, or alternate reality, or whatever you wanted to call it that the Djinn had let you live in while it held you captive, and slowly drained your body of its blood had been so real.

When you closed your eyes you could still feel Dean’s hands on your stomach, as he pushed your shirt up your body, still felt his lips moving over your own, his tongue gliding over yours… 

You could also still feel the crushing reality of it all being no more than a dream when he had shaken you awake on that warehouse floor in the middle of Dallas, and you couldn't stand to stay there another minute.

You couldn’t stand an awkward doctor’s visit where Dean pretended to be your husband or something. 

You couldn’t stand another night sharing a bed with him in the motel room, not after that. It hurt too damn much..

Dean helped you to the map table and Sam called for Cas as Dean knelt on the floor next to you. 

“What do you need, sweetheart, just say the word and I’ll go get it. Sam’s calling for Cas now, and if he can get ahold of him he can fix you right up.”

Dean was fidgeting with the flannel he’d draped over you when he carried you out of the warehouse, insisting he take your wet clothes off of you, and put you in a pair of jogging pants, and a flannel that he had in the back of his car.

“I’m fine Dean. I just need to rest a minute, then I’m gonna need a shower, but I’m pretty sure I can take care of that myself.” 

Dean looked at you as if you had grown a third head, cocking his head to the side with a strange look on his face.. 

“Y/N you can barely walk, how are you gonna manage a shower alone? Let me fill up that bathtub that Sammy and I installed, and I’ll help you get in and out of it. I promise to be a gentleman I won’t look at you like that I promise.”

You took a deep breath and closed your eyes, which hurt like fuck, but it distracted you from crying like you wanted to so desperately. 

Of course, he wouldn’t want to “look at you like that.” Hell, he practically dressed you with his eyes closed in the back of the Impala outside of the warehouse in Dallas. Letting you know right then and there that Dean was not interested in you in any way, shape, or form. 

Hell, he didn’t even try to sneak a peek!!

Hearing the words come out of his mouth so easily just now that he wouldn’t even look at you made your already raw emotions hurt even worse than what they normally would have, and made things out to be hurtful when really Dean was just trying to make you feel comfortable and help you. Somewhere deep down you knew that, but it still didn’t stop the ache in your chest when he promised to not even look at you like that.

You opened your mouth to argue with him and insisted that you could get yourself in and out of a bath without assistance when you heard the distinct rustling of feathers behind you, and a light breeze blowing your hair. 

“Cas! Where the fuck where you!!” Dean growled, getting to his feet in front of you, but keeping a protective hand on your shoulder as if he was afraid if he let you go, you’d fall out of the chair and face plant the floor. 

“Turkey, sorry it takes a while to get here from that far,” Cas said, virtually ignoring the caveman-like greeting that Dean had given him as if he was used to it. 

“Hey Cas,” you greeted him a little nicer than Dean just had as he moved to stand in front of you, forcing Dean to take a step back. This earned Cas one of Dean’s best bitchfaces.. 

“Y/N, what happened?” Cas asked, looking over you, no doubt already taking account of injuries that you couldn’t even see.

“Djinn…”

Cas nodded, placing two fingers to your forehead. 

You closed your eyes as a warmth spread through your entire body, concentrating on your ribs and running through your veins like warm water.

In an instant, Cas pulled his fingers away from your forehead, stepping back a little and nodding at you. 

“That should help. Your ribs are healed, and I’ve helped to restore some of your bloodloss, but you might still be a little weak for the remainder of the day, and probably the rest of the night. I suggest you get some rest and take it easy for a few days. If you don’t feel any better after that just give me a call..” 

“Thanks, Cas,” you said, as feathers ruffled again, and Cas disappeared from sight, leaving Dean and Sam staring at each other.

“What the hell was he doing in Turkey?” Sam asked Dean, who pouted his lip out and shrugged his shoulders before turning his attention back to you.

“How are you feeling sweetheart?” Dean asked, his deep, piercing eyes racking over your body as if he could see any mistake or misplaced thing that Cas might have missed.

“Better, tired. I think I’m gonna go take a bath, and head to bed,” you tell him, trying to stand up from the chair and almost losing your footing as the room spun around you, momentarily making you queasy. 

“Easy baby girl! Cas said you’d be a little weak, just sit here and take it easy, and I’ll go run you that bath okay?”

You didn’t understand why he was fussing over you so much, and the thought crossed your mind that he might be doing it because of guilt. 

Which only angered you.

“Dean I’ve got it! I don’t need any help! Why don’t you just go down that bar you always go to after hunts and find yourself something pretty to sink yourself into.” you snapped, successfully standing up this time, and slowly making your way down the hall to the bathroom, irrational anger coursing through your veins, making you miss the fact Dean was still in a kneeling position on the floor where you were sitting, the look of someone that had just watched his puppy be boiled alive, and Sam standing there with his mouth gaping open.

It wasn’t until after you took your bath, and crawled into bed that you started to calm down.

That’s when the regret set in big time.

You had never snapped at Dean. In all the years you had been living here in the bunker with them, you had never snapped at him, much less disrespected him the way that you just had by telling him to go find “something pretty to sink himself into.” 

You lay there in the cool dark room, letting the tears fall down your face until you finally fell into an uneasy sleep.

You wanted to go to Dean and apologize, but you were sure he was probably pissed as hell, and you knew from experience that a pissed Dean was a Dean that you allowed having his space. Apologize would wait until the morning when everyone had cooled off. That didn’t help the ball of guilt that had formed in your stomach at not only the memory of what you had thought was so fucking real, but now also the memory of the way you had just treated the man you loved more than your own life. 

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

The next morning you got up, and made your way, using the wall for support, towards the kitchen to make your morning coffee. 

Sleep had not been good to you. 

For most of the night, you had nightmares of you kissing Dean, and then him laughing at you as he turned into a Djinn. Mocking you, telling you that you were nothing more than a buddy and that Dean would never fall in love with a girl as ugly as you were. 

Once you staggered your way around the kitchen and had successfully made the coffee, you made your way over to the table which was the closest thing to you and sat down gingerly. 

Cas was right about one thing, the soreness and weakness were real, which probably wouldn’t have been as bad if you would have rested, instead of tossing and turning all night long. Yet here we are. So you would just deal with it until it went away.

If only the pain and regret you felt would go away that easy.

You were stirring your coffee with a spoon absentmindedly when you heard the distinct sound of Dean’s feet coming down the hallway.

He carried himself much heavier than Sam, and after all this time you had just about got to where you could pinpoint which Winchester was where when you couldn’t even see them. This was very useful on hunts and things that were done most of the time in the dark. 

You looked up just as Dean rounded the corner into the kitchen. You saw his green eyes that honestly looked as red as you felt, glance at you, then to his destination, which was the coffee pot, without even the usual “morning” he’d grumble when he walked by you in the morning.

Your heart sank to your feet. Dean had never given you the silent treatment. Not even when he was mad at you for something. 

“Morning Dean.” You tried as he shuffled back past you towards the hallway, not making eye contact with you, just giving you a grunt as he disappeared towards his room.

That’s how the day continued, well when you saw Dean anyway. He had spent most of his time hiding out in the garage, cleaning and tuning up Baby, even though he’d just done it before your last hunt.

That’s what Dean did when he didn't want to talk, or deal with whatever was bothering him, which at this point you were sure was you.

 When he did run into you he’d resorted to grunting instead of speaking. Like, when you ask him if he wanted anything for lunch, or when you asked him if he wanted to watch a movie with you, even when you asked him if he wanted to play poker with you, which was something he used to beg you to do with him to pass the time. 

You had fucked up badly, and you knew it.

By the time midnight had fallen over the bunker, and Dean had retreated behind the locked door of his bedroom and you found yourself alone in the Dean cave. Staring at an off television, with a tumbler of whiskey in your hand.

You and Dean used to be friends. He used to talk to you about things that he didn’t talk to everyone about, and you knew that. Even though you knew he only saw you as a buddy, that didn’t mean you wanted to forfeit that, just because you couldn’t have him the way you wanted to have him, and if you could go back in time with some spell, to take back those mean words you had said to him when he was only trying to help you, you’d do it in a heartbeat.

Sam came in, flopping down on the small chair next to the couch you were sitting on, and you couldn’t even look up at him, even though you heard him clear his throat like he always did when he wanted to get your attention.

“You okay?” Sam asked when you didn’t look up or acknowledge him at all.

You shook your head and looked anywhere but at Sam as you tried to stop the tears from falling that were burning in your eyes. You felt like your heart had been ripped out of your chest and stomped on until there was nothing left but a bloody puddle. You felt like there would be no recovering from this. It was worse than the Djinn dream because there was no waking up from this. You lost the only thing between you and Dean could hold onto, and you knew it was your fault.

“Wanna talk about it?” Sam said, shifting in the chair, leaning onto his knees as he grabbed the bottle off of the coffee table, and moved it away from you, clearly thinking you had enough to drink tonight. Maybe he was right?

“Not really Sam,” you said, your voice barely above a hoarse whisper. 

“Well, drinking to forget never solved the problem.” 

You narrowed your eyes, and if looks could kill you would probably have killed him.

“That’s rich, coming from a Winchester.” 

“Hey, I don’t drink anywhere near as much as Dean does.. And there lies the elephant in the room. Dean that is. “ 

You nearly choke on your drink as you look over at Sam.

“Don’t give me that look, you really hurt him Y/n. He was just worried and trying to help you, and you kicked him pretty hard last night. The man sat alone in the map room and cried himself into almost  being sick, then went to his room, and only God knows what he did there.” 

You sat there staring wide-eyed at Sam, who was looking more and more pissed by the minute. You thought he was just angry at you. Why did Sam seem to be making it out like you hurt him?

“You know that man didn’t stop until he found you? He cares about you more than I’ve ever seen him care about anyone. He worried himself  sick, convinced he would be too late, and when he found you, and got you home, wanting to take care of you, you virtually tell him to  fuck off!!” 

“I thought he was just doing it out of pity!” you yell back at him, and as soon as the words leave your lips you realize just how stupid they sounded. Dean was a man that thrived off of self loathing and guilt.

He did very little out of pity though, that just wasn’t his style, and you could see now, just how mean your comment was.

“Sam.Dean doesn’t care about me. Not like I care about him, and when the Djinn… Look I got all caught up with my emotions, and I snapped at him. I didn’t mean to hurt his feelings, Sam you know how I feel about Dean! He’s my best friend! I didn’t want to hurt him, I was just… Really emotional, and when I thought he was  taking care of me because he felt sorry for me,  I snapped at him…” 

“What did the Djinn show you?” Sam asked, his eyes narrowing as if he was putting a piece in a puzzle together that had been bothering him for quite some time. You were pretty sure you had said enough for him to work it out on his own, but he wanted you to admit it.

“Dean and I….We...We were going to go be...you know together...He felt the same way I did, and I… Everything felt so real… Then all a sudden it wasn’t…”

Sam stood up from the chair and grabbed the whiskey bottle off to the table in front of him. 

“You need to talk to Dean. He’s hurting Y/N. He thought he lost you.. He’s been in love with you from the moment he saw you, and when he found you, he’d finally worked up the nerve to let it show a little because you know how Dean is with words, and you told him to go find someone else to fuck like he disgusted you or something.

You looked down at your hands, having a hard time believing that it was possible that Dean could have feelings for you too. It just couldn’t be.

Still, the thought that you might have hurt Dean caused another wave of guilt to wash over you. So much so, that you threw the blanket off your lap, and started to pad your way down the hallway to Dean’s room.

Coming to a stop in front of his door, you could see a light on in the room from the crack under the door. Taking a deep breath, you reach your hand up and knock., not having any idea what to say. You just needed to see him, see that he was okay.

The door opened slowly, and Dean’s face peered out at you through the crack in the door. He didn’t even bother opening it all the way, just enough to see who it was. That wasn’t like Dean. Normally, he just yelled at you to come in when you knocked on his door.

“What?” he said to the floor, eyes looking anywhere but yours, and if you could have kicked yourself you would have done it. The man you loved more than your own life, the man you’d gladly die for, that you have spent nights dreaming about was hurting, and it was you who caused it because you were blind to see that he was trying to show you that he cared.

“Dean, can I come in? I need to talk to you.” 

His eyes moved to yours momentarily, before he nodded and opened the door wide enough for you to come inside, moving to sit at the little table in the corner where he much like yourself, had a tumbler of whiskey he’d been drinking when you’d knock on his door.

You made your way over to the bed and sat down on the edge of it. You could feel how cold it was between the two of you, and you hated it.

“Dean...I’m sorry I snapped at you last night..I… I was upset, and I got all caught up in my emotions, and I took it out on you when you were just trying to help me… I shouldn’t have said that stuff to you… I don’t like this between us, and I’m sorry.“ 

Dean’s head leaned back against the wall. Not looking at you, but continuing to stare into his glass.

“You have no idea how relieved I was that you were still alive when I found you because I thought for sure I’d be too late. I thought...I thought that I had lost the chance to tell you how I feel about you. Then when I found you alive, and we made it home, I wanted to take care of you like I should have from the moment I met you, and you, you tell me to go fuck someone else. That you don’t need me. So you made your feelings very clear, and I don’t know why you're even bothering coming in here when you find me so repulsive. You should be happy I backed away.”

You sat there trying not to let your jaw hit the floor. Dean was always someone you thought was out of your reach, but here he was, pretty much telling you he had feelings for you, and you kicked him when he was most vulnerable.

You vaguely wondered if you were still dreaming, and the Djinn had found you again.  

“Dean, I can’t even put into words how sorry  I am I didn’t mean to hurt you, I thought you were only trying to smother me because you were feeling guilty about me getting hurt, and it was all out of pity. The Djinn? It made me see things that fucked with my emotions. Everything was so raw. I shouldn’t have snapped at you and disrespected you that way. I shouldn’t have got caught up in my feelings, and disrespected you. I don’t want you to back away. “

Dean got up and came to sit down next to you. Looking away from you for a moment, eyes letting you know that his thoughts were far away from you, far away from this room.

When he finally started to speak his voice was much quieter than what you were used to.

“I got caught by a Djinn once. It showed me a perfect life. I had a wife who was a nurse. Mom was alive, I wasn’t a hunter. Sammy had Jessica. Just a pretty much apple pie life, and it took me weeks to shake the loss I felt after I got away from that Damn thing. So I get it, but sweetheart you can’t push me away, just because you're upset. I know you were probably with a better man than me, maybe a dog and a couple of kids or some shit, and I can’t hold a candle to whatever that thing showed you, but I can’t just make the way I feel about you go away, like that thing did when it was killed, and took whatever apple pie life away from you.”

You sat there dumbfounded for a moment.

He didn’t see it.

He’d never seen it.

It was him you were in love with.

You always loved him.

He thought so damn little of himself. That he had never even seen how you felt about him, and when you rejected him it hurt him.

“Dean, the Djinn didn’t show me some apple pie life. It showed me you, and it showed me us. Something I didn’t think I could ever have because let’s face it, I’m not exactly in your league. Then right when I was finally able to kiss you like I had wanted to do for so long you woke me up, and it was all ripped away from me. That’s why when I thought you were doing what you were doing out of pity. I got so upset and snapped at you. But it was you. It’s always been you.”

Dean looked at you for a moment like you had said something in a foreign language, and he just couldn’t compute. Then it hit him. His features softened, and the hardness in his shoulders melted instantly.

“Do you still…. Do you still want to kiss me?” Dean asks, inching his way closer to you.

“Yes... More than anything.” 

That was all the permission he needed. His lips made contact with yours a deep, hungry, needy kiss that made your world spin. 

His tongue slipping into your mouth. Exploring, dominating, washing away all the hurt, and heartache. 

His hands trail your body as you continue to kiss each other. Getting more and more heated as his lips moved in perfect harmony with your own.

Things continued to escalate. The need for each other. To feel each other after having wanted to for so long overpowering every insecurity, and every bad thought that you had about yourself as clothes made their way to the floor.

Lips trailed your body…Gracing over the most sensitive parts of you. Worshiping you as if you were a God…Bringing you to the edge of pure bliss over and over again before he finally let you fall apart.

His body one with yours.. Thrusting in and out of you slowly, deeply, fitting the two of you together as if you were some missing piece to a puzzle that had finally found its home.  

The only sound that filled the room now instead of hurtful words were sighs, moans, and gasp of breath as Dean drove the two of you higher and higher. Hitting everything perfectly over and over again until it was too much for either of you to take, and he was falling over the edge with you. 

Shooting ropes of come into your velvet heat. Giving you all of him as your wall clamped down around him.

This was real. No Djinn. No dream that was going to get ripped away from him. He was yours, and you were his, finally. After all the hurt, after all the loneliness, after all the fear. None of that mattered now. All that mattered was that you were together, and nothing was going to separate you as long as you had breath in your body.

This wasn’t just a dream. This was a reality. This was perfect. This was home. After all these years. You were finally home.

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Tag List: @screechingartisancashbailiff​ @thecreatiivecorner​  @aflamboyanceofgays @vicmc624​ @busy-bee-angel-misska​ @deanwanddamons​ @imabitch4jensen​ @rvgrsbrns​ @bi-danvers0​ @onethirstyunicorn @i-love-superhero​ @akshi8278​ @alanegaming @magssteenkamp​ @lemondropirwin​ @squirrelnotsam​ @hobby27​ @spnbaby-67​ @mrsjenniferwinchester​ @defenderrosetyler​ 

[destieltropecollection]

Destiel Trope Collection 2020 Day 20: Mutual Pining

An Old Feeling | @deservetobesaved

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 1741 Main Tags/Warnings: post season 12, jealous!dean, love confession Summary: Castiel thinks Dean will never love him back so he decides to try and move on. Cue jealous!Dean and confessions galore.

To Catch a Spark | zaphodsgirl (AO3)

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 2364 Main Tags/Warnings: Misunderstandings, Fluff Summary: Cas has been acting pretty clumsy lately and Dean is a little worried.

Falling Awake | @specsofwings

Rating: General Word Count: 2530 Main Tags/Warnings: Love confessions, Cas and Dean being idiots, The Cosmic Entity Summary: After Michael is killed by Team Free Will 2.0, Dean ends up in the Empty, Michael's grace pulling a sliver of his consciousness there. The Cosmic Entity calls him out on not realising Castiel is in love with him. Dean needs to decide what to do with that information as he wakes up home.

Personal Space | @notfunnydean

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 2859 Main Tags/Warnings: NSFW, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot. Masturbation, Masturbation Interruptus, Voyeur Castiel Summary: It’s been four weeks since the last time Dean actually had time for himself and he just wants to crawl into his bed and finally jack off. Sadly he says a certain name and Castiel shows up and not to interrupt.

That Game We Played | @misha-moose-dean-burger-lover

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 3139 Main Tags/Warnings: Valentine's Day, Castiel/Dean Winchester in the Men of Letters Bunker, Broken Thermostat, Castiel is Not Oblivious, Naked Cuddling Summary: “You know what?” Dean mutters, mostly to himself. He really is trying to be less of a jerk - but he can’t seem to help it. It’s Valentine’s day, and it’s hot. So he decides to stop talking, and takes off his jacket, a deep blue leather utility, and shucks it away on a counter. Cas seems to find this interesting, his eyes following Dean around the room; so then Dean does the first thing that comes to mind. He walks over to Cas, and holds his hand out. Cas stares at it, like he’s trying to figure out the purpose of its existence. Dean helps him, because he’s awesome like that. “Your coat.” Because why the fuck not?

Get out of my head | @notfunnydean

Rating: General Word Count: 3216 Main Tags/Warnings: Cursed, Mind Reading, dean and cas get cursed, mind reading Summary: When a witch puts some sort of spell on Dean and Castiel, they start to hear each other’s thoughts. Dean tries very hard to keep a secret, but Castiel has to insist.

May I ask for this dance | @notfunnydean

Rating: General Word Count: 3225 Main Tags/Warnings: Dean needs Cas' help on a case, Masquerade Ball, dancing on his feet Summary: When Dean asks Castiel to accompany him at an undercover investigation at a masquerade ball, to find the witch who killed a lot of people, Castiel wants it to be a date. Only problem, he can’t dance, so he asks Sam for help.

You aren't a monster | @notfunnydean

Rating: General Word Count: 3782 Main Tags/Warnings: misunderstandings Summary: When Bobby and Sam start to believe Castiel is actually on the bad side, Dean tries to defend his angel. He wouldn’t let them kill his best friend but unfortunately Castiel hears the wrong snippet of the conversation and ends up hurting Dean badly.

And I swear | @notfunnydean

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 4413 Main Tags/Warnings: two idiots in love, Jealous!Cas, Arthur is not in the fic but mentioned a lot, Abusive Relationships, hurt!Dean, Break Up Summary: Dean knows that Arthur is treating him badly, but he had worse in his life and besides, it’s not like the person he really loves wants him back.

your eyes will lead me straight back home | @elizaeverafter

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 4602 Main Tags/Warnings: no archive warnings apply, fake/pretend relationship, mutual pining, fluff, light angst, romantic comedy, friends to lovers, au modern setting, jealousy, castiel POV Summary: When Dean hatches a plan to go to Charlie's wedding with Castiel to avoid being bothered about remaining single, Castiel knows this isn't going to go well. But he hasn't been able to refuse Dean so far, so why would this act of being in a relationship be any different? And if Castiel feels like exploding and blurting out his feelings the whole time, well, that's his problem.

The War Within You | @verobatto-angelxhunter

Rating: Mature Word Count: 9770 Main Tags/Warnings: Destiel, season 6 canon divergent, first kiss, mutual pining, slow burn, love confession, eventual Human!Cas, angst with a happy ending. Summary: Sam Is back from the cage but something is wrong with him, and Dean knows it. He must call Castiel for help... But not just for that... There's something forbidden burning inside him that makes his mind go crazy. He needs to be near the angel.

The Meaning of Everything | @verobatto-angelxhunter

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 17000 Main Tags/Warnings: Destiel, canonverse, post s14 canon divergent, mutual pining, first kiss, love confession, explicit sexual content, canon typical violence, angst with a happy ending, vessel sharing, winged Cas Summary: Chuck is the bad guy, and he broke with his snap Heaven, Hell and Purgatory. The chaos is all over the Earth. But Billie has a plan, they need to work together to raise Jack as the New God. Dean and Cas will try to solve their issues, but something unexpected will happen that will separate them again.

The Alpha Next Door (WIP) | @Destielshipper4Cas

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 16767 Main Tags/Warnings: Strangers to Lovers, First Time, Omega Castiel, Alpha Dean, Past Abuse Summary: When Cas is placed in WitSec, he gets a fake secondary gender designation to go along with his new name, ‘Jimmy.’ All he has to do until the boss of the omega trafficking ring he escaped is behind bars is keep a low profile, always apply his alpha scent, and not fall in love with an alpha. Well—two out of three ain’t too bad… Dean has never had a crush on an alpha before. Along comes his new neighbor, Jimmy, an alpha who is alphasexual. There’s just something about him, and to his utter confusion, he finds himself falling for an alpha for the first time in his life.

Guardian Angel | @notfunnydean

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 19486 Main Tags/Warnings: Homeless Dean Winchester, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Virgin!Dean, Abusive John Winchester, Canon-Typical Violence Summary: Everybody in the world has his own guardian angel, to keep them safe and protect them. Only "bad people" are without a guardian angel. Maybe that's why Dean is alone.

Little Blue Dragon | @saltnhalo

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 23820 Main Tags/Warnings: Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Magic, Blacksmith Dean Winchester, Mage Sam Winchester, Creature Castiel, Dragon Castiel, Pining, Soulmates, Minor Violence, Frottage Summary: Dean Winchester may have a reputation for being a skilled craftsman and blacksmith, but his life is just like anyone else’s. He’s over-worked and under-slept, and it’s all because of the niggling feeling in the back of his mind that tells him he’s… forgetting something. Still, he can’t let his weird dreams or errant thoughts get in the way of his work and his love for his craft. The strange feeling goes ignored. That is, until he meets a man with jewel-blue eyes and an aura of intrigue. Castiel slots into his life in a way that Dean had never thought possible, and Dean grows accustomed to the mysterious man’s visits and brilliant smiles and tales of far-away places. He’d never known he was missing a piece of himself until he met Castiel, and he thinks that Cas might feel the same way. Until Castiel disappears from Dean’s life completely.

Dislocation | @pray4jensen

Rating: Mature Word Count: 24514 Main Tags/Warnings: Mutual Pining, Angst with a Happy Ending Summary: After the sun is restored and the Woman of Letters banishes Castiel, he falls and becomes human, lost and alone in a place far from home. Four hundred and fifty-one days later, Sam finds him. He tells Castiel that Dean is alive. So they go. They go and they arrive at the bunker and Sam’s acting strange and there’s something that he’s not telling Castiel, something about Dean. And then Castiel finally reunites with Dean. And there is something about Dean. Something about Dean that has Dean pulling Castiel into tight embraces, something about Dean that has Dean running his thumb across Castiel’s cheek with a tender look in his eyes, and something about Dean that has Dean shaking when Castiel says certain things to him, things that are normal, things that should not affect him this way. There is something about Dean that no one is telling him.

Sending A Raven | @saltnhalo

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 38677 Main Tags/Warnings: Vikings, Magic, Temporary Character Death, Established Relationship, Leader Dean Winchester, Explicit Sexual Content, Violence, Dean/Cas Pinefest 2019, Viking Dean Winchester, Viking Castiel, BAMF Castiel (Supernatural), BAMF Dean Winchester, Mutual Pining, Angst Summary: When Dean, the Viking jarl of Týrvik, leaves on a raid to combat the enemy warriors attacking their ships, his husband Castiel is left to protect and lead the village. The ships return barely a week later, with damaged timbers and a devastated, leader-less crew, and suddenly Castiel finds himself not only in a position of leadership for which he is ill-equipped, but terrified for the safety of his captured husband. With the possibility of a spy somewhere in the village’s midst, Castiel leaves his people under Sam’s care and departs on the journey north to where they think Dean is being held, in a desperate attempt to rescue him before it’s too late.

Twenty Years | @ioasccel

Rating: Mature Word Count: 39501 Main Tags/Warnings: Angst, pining, religious themes, Summary: A profound bond between a Priest and the one he loves the most that spans decades. Father Novak’s love of God is tested by one Dean Winchester. A story of a priest driven by love and tortured by desire. All about forbidden love, heart break, and an eventually a happily ever after.

It's A Long Life to Always Be Longing | @pomegranatedaffodil

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 40685 Main Tags/Warnings: Canon Divergence, Spells and Enchantments, Road Trips, Angst with a Happy Ending Summary: Dean’s life has always been dictated by duty rather than by need. So when Amara offers to give him the thing he needs most, he doesn’t know what to expect, but it certainly isn’t this: a chance to rest, some time away from his life and his burdens. Now he’s trapped in an enchanted sleep, unable to bring himself back to the waking world. It’s up to Sam and Castiel to gather the components of a spell that will bring Dean back to them. Through road trips, honest conversations, and a lot of patience, they’ll make sure Dean comes home. And when he does, maybe he and Castiel will finally have a chance to act on long-buried feelings brought to the surface by their enforced separation. Canon-divergent from the end of 11.23.

The Handyman's Special | @carrieosity

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 51456 Main Tags/Warnings: Fake/Pretend Relationship, Mutual Pining, Humor and Fluff, Human AU, Low-angst, Top!Castiel/Bottom!Dean Summary: Dr. Dean Winchester, professor of Mechanical Engineering, was full of confidence in his own abilities when he decided to purchase a fixer-upper house to rehab and remodel on his own. Now, standing in the middle of his new house and praying the floors won’t cave in, he’s realizing that determination and academic brilliance might only take him so far this time. The bigger problem: his overconfidence in the face of other people’s doubts (ahem, Sam) means that asking for help now will mean swallowing a whole lot of pride…and he’d rather not. Hiring a secret contractor to do the work without telling anyone seems like the perfect solution. Accidentally hiring an amazingly hot secret contractor wasn’t part of the plan. And when Sam overhears a conversation and starts connecting dots, a snap decision and another lie on top the first leads to a ridiculous balancing act of fake stories, pretend relationships, and one hell of a renovation tale.

Escaping Neverland | @emblue-sparks

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 84004 Main Tags/Warnings: Major Warning: Underage(only first 30k, no underage sex), Mental health issues, Identity issues, failed family placements, Mention of past traumas Tags: Adventure Romance AU with canon elements Storybook I-1995 Storybook II- 2015 Heavily inspired by Peter Pan,Completely Destiel despite first pairing, read to learn how, NO MCD(Sam Dean Cas)Canon character deaths, TAGS FOR 1995: Practices & rituals of Sumerian/Greek/Judeo Christian faiths, Dean/Jimmy slow burn, heart failure, kidney/pancreatic failure, dialysis, Found Family, John's the dad his kids deserve, LGBTQ positive parents, First kiss disaster, First DateHoliday, our island/our rules, sad boys, memorial rituals, Heart Transplant, Mourning Rituals TAGS FOR 2015: Everyone supports therapy, Incorrect demon summoning, Latin, Scottish Gaelic, Enochian, Professor/Rookie Hunter!Sam, Nurse!Dean, Orchard Owner/Beekeeper!Cas,Tattooed Dean, burger date, Frottage, Shower Deansturbation,Blow Jobs, Anal Sex, Cum kink, Biting kink, Switch boys, Heavy surgical scarring, Dean knows ASL, Strange Dreams, Collective nightmares, Canon adjacent realms: Hoya Baciu Forest Romania, Caria Turkey, Chaos, Mythical Greek creatures, Temporarily fanged Benny, Some villainous ferrymen, Some badass ferrymen, Overly confident dick in a boat, Destiel Ever After, Happy Ending GUARANTEED, Dean/Cas Big Bang Challenge 2019 Summary: Lawrence 1995- Sixteen year old Dean Winchester finds himself in St. Luke's Children's Hospital after an electrocution severely damages his heart. On unit Neverland he meets Jimmy, a smartass with multiple organ failure and an expiration date. They discover an immediate spark which becomes an enduring flame. But Dean struggles accepting Jimmy's fate as well as his own, if a heart cannot be found in time. As his efforts to evade the ultimate marauder are weakening, he begins drawing strength from the misfit teens of Neverland East, learning the power of found family. Lebanon 2015- Dean finally joins Sam, Jo, and Charlie in the bunker. But unexpectedly meeting Castiel, who shares an unsettling likeness to Jimmy and an equally traumatic childhood, threatens to destroy two decades of hard work moving beyond the devastating events which occurred at St. Luke's. They'd be perfect for each other, if both weren’t so damn broken. As their involvement deepens, rookie hunter Sam works a case of rising juvenile deaths, revealing a shocking connection to the surviving Neverlanders. One that's been calling them all along to perilous adventure.

After All These Years | @peanutbutterjelly-pie

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 99909 Main Tags/Warnings: Alternate Universe, Pretend Relationship, Fluff, Mutual Pining, Single Parent Dean, Reunion, Slow Burn Summary: In which Dean finds himself at a wedding as Jo's fake boyfriend against his will, groaning and complaining the whole time, but still trying to appear all handsome and perfect and utterly in love since he's an awesome friend like that (and since Jo would make his life a living hell otherwise). And just when he begins to think that it won't be so bad to eat tons of free food and let his daughter Emma enjoy the festivity his gaze suddenly meets the two bluest eyes in existence and the world stops to move for a moment. Because of course the groom's brother turns out to be his old high school crush Castiel – the only person Dean was never able to forget – and things start to become really complicated all of a sudden.

[littlekatleaf]

Be still my indelible friend (Overwatch)

So this is inspired by the “Love Triangle” scenario @lovely-starry-universe​ shared. (sorry it’s not TMA, @beaugtifuw​ but maybe consider it as an alternative to death?) This is also separate from my other fics.

Be still my indelible friend, you are unbreaking Though quaking, though crazy That’s just wasteland, baby ~ Hozier, “Wasteland, Baby!” Roadhog wanted to rub his eyes, aching behind his mask. He felt like he was going to sneeze, but his head throbbed and sneezing would make it worse. He really wanted to disappear into his quarters and sleep whatever this was off, without the mask so he could sneeze as necessary and blow his nose. Unfortunately he was stuck here, trying to keep Junkrat from noticing he was getting sick. 

Junkrat always noticed, even if he was in the middle of working something up for Torbjörn, or messing with one of Lena’s pulse bombs. Could be completely immersed in his work, muttering about whatever crossed his mind as he pieced things together, but the minute Roadhog started feeling off, sometimes before he actually registered the sensation in his own body, Junkrat would be there with tea or Kleenex or cough drops. Whatever Roadhog might need. Or want. No matter how many times Roadhog told him to stop - didn’t need coddling - Junkrat just shrugged and kept on. Irritating. Not a sook and rankled that Junkrat thought he was. 

Reckoned the Rat had a point, though. Hard to intimidate when one was constantly sniffling. Like he was doing right now. Just about to get up and find his own tissues when footsteps clanked down the passage outside the door and Junkrat finally looked up from his wires. Not at him, though. At the man currently leaning in the doorway.

“Oi, Lucio! Welcome back, mate. How’d it go,” Junkrat asked.

Lucio gusted a sigh. “Horrible. She’s gonna be gone for months, and as a goodbye gift she gave me her cold.”

Junkrat laughed, but not meanly. “Now that ain’t fair.” He crossed the room and pressed his hand to Lucio’s forehead. “Might be warm.”

“Eh, no big. Just feel a little under… the… weather.” His voice wavered up on the word and suddenly he pitched forward. “Hitchoo! I’tchoo!” 

“Bless ya, mate.” Junkrat tossed him a box of tissues from under a pile of detritus.

“Oh, thanks, man.” Lucio shook his head at himself. “Could’ve been a disaster.” 

“Who takes care of the medic when the medic’s feelin’ crook?”

 Lucio pulled a tragic face, but was clearly trying not to grin.  “No one, now that Hana’s away.”

“That ain’t right. Patched me up often enough, right Roadie? Only fair if I do the same. C’mere; sit.” He steered Lucio to the other side of the couch, put a blanket around his shoulders. Then he began to fill, not the kettle for tea, but the coffee pot. Lucio liked coffee. Roadhog didn’t.

 As the coffee brewed, Junkrat asked Lucio about the trip to Busan. 

Lucio made a so-so gesture. “Meeting the parents was okay - they didn’t hate me. Maybe. But Dae-hyun’s another story. I’m surprised he didn’t try to poison my soda.”

“But you’re the dead nicest person I ever met. Can’t imagine you were rude. What’d ya do?”

“He thinks it’s my fault Hana won’t be more than his friend.”

“An’ it ain’t?”

“Nah, she sees him like a brother. Anyway, we’re open. If she wanted to be with him, it’d be fine with me.”

“Huh,” Junkrat made a considering noise and Roadhog caught him looking at Lucio with an unreadable expression. Which was weird - Junkrat usually had the opposite of a poker face. Made playing cards against him profitable.

When Lucio’s voice went hoarse, Junkrat took over the conversation, making his usual terrible jokes. Going into far too much detail about the modification to Torb’s turret he was working on. Nattering. 

And Roadhog realized he was going to sneeze. Hated doing it with the mask; small as the sneezes were, still felt fucking gross. Hated more doing it with an audience. Too many comments over the years about ‘big guy, tiny sneeze’ ha ha ha fucking hilarious. Ducked his head, tried holding his breath and kept it tightly contained to just a shudder.

No one responded. Thank fuck.

Felt odd, though. Unsettled. Maybe he was getting a fever? But he didn’t have that bone deep ache yet. Just felt… not right.

The day wore on. At some point Lucio switched from coffee to orange juice. His voice was barely more than a croak. Junkrat teased him about sounding like a frog and instead of biting his head off, like Roadhog would have - well deserved, in his opinion - Lucio just laughed and pretended to eat a fly. Roadhog rolled his eyes. Immature. Both of them. 

Lucio shivered, just once, and Junkrat dug his own scarf out of another pile of random crap and wrapped it carefully around Lucio’s neck, the orange and yellow stripes shining bright against his dark skin.

“Thanks, man,” Lucio said, sincerely, a flush rising up his neck. Fever? Or something else? He put his hand on Junkrat’s arm, and Rat covered it with his own. Roadhog looked away.

Every single time Lucio sneezed, Junkrat blessed him. And at each blessing, Lucio said thanks. He didn’t get irritated, he didn’t snap or growl. He just kept Junkrat cheerful company, laughing at Rat’s jokes (even, or maybe especially, the terrible ones), making listening noises in response to his endless stories, face nuzzled down in Junkrat’s scarf. 

Finally, Junkrat noticed his head nodding forward, eyes drooping closed. “Why’nt you head to bed, mate? Ain’t gotta keep us entertained.”

Lucio yawned, stretched. “Sorry. Just exhausted suddenly. I was going to stop by the mess hall for some food first, but…” He sneezed suddenly, ducking into the scarf. “Oops! Shit. I’ll wash it before I give it back, I promise.”

“Bless ya. No worries.” Junkrat shrugged. “Saw Mei cooking some of her chicken noodle soup earlier. I’ll bring you a bowl.”

“You’re a lifesaver, Junkrat. If Mercy caught me anywhere near the mess with this cold I wouldn't have to worry about being sick for very long.”

Junkrat mimed a shudder. “Too right. Sheila only looks sweet and innocent.”

“Thanks again.” Lucio tossed a wave over his shoulder as he sauntered out. “See ya, Roadhog.”

Junkrat whistled tunelessly as he cleaned up his workbench. Roadhog struggled against another sneeze. He tried to ignore it, to think of something else, but the tickle was insistent. Fuck it. He ducked his head, sneezed once, then again. Junkrat’s whistle didn’t falter. Was focused, maybe, on what he was doing. Roadhog tried to breathe carefully, but his nose wanted to drip so he sniffed, and then he needed to sneeze again.  An annoying as shit self-perpetuating cycle. 

He glanced around the room for the box of tissues. Apparently Lucio’d taken it with him. Of fucking course. “Junkrat. Gonna head up to my quarters for a bit.” Maybe he’d be focused enough not to ask…

“Ya ain’t hungry? ‘S well past lunch. Don’t think I’ve ever heard ya turn down a meal, ‘specially when Mei’s cooking.”

Roadhog wanted to groan, but kept it to a sigh. “No, yeah. Let’s go.” He was a little hungry. He’d pick up a bowl of soup in the mess hall and when Junkrat made his delivery to Lucio he could slip off. Soup would help, and maybe then he could get sleep. Or at least a little peace and quiet.

Luckily no one was in the mess hall when they stopped by, so it was a shorter trip than if Junkrat’d had someone to talk at. Just filled their bowls and, balancing his own and Lucio’s because sometimes Rat’s mech hand had trouble with the porcelain, followed Rat to Lucio’s quarters. Shit - his nose wanted to drip. Sniffed against it, which triggered an urge to sneeze. With his hands full of soup. Balls. Couldn’t even get Junkrat’s attention, any attempt to talk and he’d lose the tenuous control he clung to. 

A breath, another breath… only a few more steps until he could hand off the bowl… and he realized he wasn’t going to make it. Stopped and braced for it and “Ht’nxxt!  Ngxxt! …. Ht’nxxt!” Let his breath out carefully. It felt like he’d exploded his sinuses, but at least he didn’t spill scalding liquid over his hands. Small mercy. Junkrat was already knocking at Lucio’s door, a rhythmic tapping that wasn’t like his usual fist at Roadhog’s door.

Lucio opened the door and a soft tune wafted out like smoke. He’d clearly been working on some new music. A pair of headphones was around his neck. He’d changed from his travel clothes into a pair of sweatpants, and an oversized sweatshirt with two laughing gingerbread men that said, “Let’s get baked.” 

“Thanks, guys. Appreciate it.” He seemed to notice Roadhog staring and glanced down, then chuckled. “It’s from Hana,” he said, as if that explained everything.  “I’d invite you in, but I’m probably contagious.”

“Ah, no need to sit around all by your lonesome, sick an’ miserable. I never get sick. And Roadie’s already got it. He’s been sneezing all day.” Junkrat waved a hand at Roadhog dismissively. 

“Oh, sorry Roadhog! I didn’t know you were sick.”

“Ain’t nothing,” he mumbled. So Junkrat knew? And hadn’t said anything? Hadn’t even blessed him once? What the hell? 

Lucio stepped back to let them in and, with no idea how to bow out gracefully, Roadhog followed. The room was dark, lit only by a few strings of colorful fairy lights. Lucio’d made himself a nest on the couch, pillows and blankets and his laptop. His sound system sent out a low bass beat, overlaid with electronic melody and a voice that sounded almost like Hana, singing something he couldn't make out. In the corner of the room was an altar with a buddha statue and a candle lit in front. He let Junkrat take the spot next to Lucio on the couch, and sat on an arm chair across from them. It was a surprisingly welcoming space and Roadhog found himself relaxing, almost against his will. 

Junkrat made himself useful, cleaning up the dishes when they’d finished eating. Making sure Lucio was comfortable, that he had a glass of water and tissues in easy reach. When Lucio yawned, Junkrat pulled him close, to lean against his shoulder. He launched into some ridiculous, and likely embellished, story about a heist he’d pulled on the Queen of Junkertown sometime in the years before he and Roadhog started working together. Lucio made impressed noises, egging him on, and each story got less likely than the last. 

And then Lucio turned away from Junkrat, sneezing again. “Hitchoo! I’tchoo! Ugh, excuse me. I’m so gross.” He blew his nose.

“Bless ya. And no ya ain’t. Least ya got a normal sneeze, not like me. I sneeze like a bomb going off.” Junkrat tugged him close again and Lucio relaxed against his side, laughing.

“It’s true, though. An’ apparently size don’t matter in these things ‘cause Roadie sneezes like a kitten.”

Roadhog felt himself going red under the mask. He really, really did not want to be having this conversation. Not with Lucio, and not with the tickle that was building again. “Could you not make fun of me for five fucking minutes? Damn, Junkrat.”

“Don’t be such a touchy bastard. Ya know I don’t mean nothing by it.”

He wanted to keep arguing, to cuss Junkrat out for being such an asshole, especially while he was just as sick as Lucio, but part of him wondered whether he might, actually, be overreacting. Worse, he was pretty sure he was going to sneeze. He raised a wrist to the nose of his mask, like that was somehow going to help, but the tickle was too strong to  be contained. “Huh… chu! Chu! Chu!” Kept his head down when he finished because Junkrat was right, he did sneeze like a fucking kitten and he hated it. Hated that Junkrat teased him about it, hated that Lucio was there to hear it, hated that he hadn’t just gone to his quarters before Lucio ever got back from Busan.

“Bless you, Roadhog,” Lucio said after a couple beats of silence. And that just made it worse. Lucio blessing him, not Junkrat. 

The cold must be fucking him up more than he thought, because everything just felt like shit suddenly. His head hurt and his body hurt and his eyes hurt. He needed to blow his nose but then he’d have to take off his mask and Lucio would see all the fucking scars and he’d ask too many questions because he wouldn’t know not to and what could he possibly say? And Junkrat was ignoring him and paying attention to Lucio and he fucking hated that and he didn’t know why it bothered him so much and he didn’t want it to bother him, but it did, bothered him like a blister his boot kept rubbing over and over. Irritating and painful and it was just one more thing on top of everything and he hated it. Because Junkrat was his friend first. Was his first… but Lucio was so much nicer about everything. So much kinder and softer and not at all an asshole.

Suddenly he felt a hand on his shoulder and he realized he’d been shaking, just a little. “Ya okay, Hoggie?” Junkrat’s voice was unusually soft, almost gentle.

“Fine,” he said, but the attempted sharpness was blunted with congestion and he coughed. And he didn’t push away Rat’s hand.

“No, ya ain’t.” Junkrat stood between Roadhog and Lucio, and carefully loosened the mask then lifted it away from his face, slow enough to be stopped. Roadhog didn’t. Then, just as carefully, Junkrat took a Kleenex and wiped Roadie’s eyes. Then his nose. Roadhog sighed and rested his forehead on Junkrat’s belly. “Hey, hey. What’s this, then? Thought ya didn’t want any attention when you’re sick.”

“Thought not, too,” he mumbled without moving. 

“Ya jealous.” There was the lilt of laughter in the words.

Roadhog shrugged. “Maybe.”

“Ya are!  Ain’t no reason for it! Might be mean as cat’s piss when yer sick, but it don’t matter. You’re my Hog, an’ that’s the way of it.”

 “But Lucio…”

“Reckon I can take care of ya both. Yeah?”

Roadhog nodded, and when Junkrat stepped aside, Roadhog kept the mask off and Lucio didn’t ask about the scars, or make any comment at all. He just smiled and offered a movie night and that was how they ended up sprawled across Lucio’s bed, Roadhog on one side, Lucio on the other and Junkrat between them, arms around them both. Sometime in the middle of the movie, they dozed off, warm and comfortable.

[twoidiotwriters1]

Written In The Stars LVII (Harry Potter xF!Oc)

A/N: I’m IN LOVE with this gif -Danny

Words: 3,044

Warnings: None.

Series’ Masterlist

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

Listen to: Love Somebody -Maroon 5

Chapter Sixteen: Buckbeak's Appeal.

Mel had been pacing around the dormitory for five minutes, unable to put into words what she was going through. 

She sort of did it, but Hermione didn't understand, how did she know she was falling in love?

"Can you at least tell me what happened?" Hermione stood up in exasperation, interrupting her pacing.

Mel was originally going to say 'I don't know!' but her mouth blurted out something completely different.

"I almost kissed Harry!"

Hermione's frown grew.

"That's it?"

"What do you mean that's it?" She widened her eyes. "That's everything!"

"Mel, if you could see the way you're always ogling at him you'd think you're always trying to kiss him."

"What?! No! Not always– Not ever... Or do I? I mean, sometimes when... and he's so clever... Wait, no! I almost kissed Harry for real, I leaned in to hug him and he turned and I..." She felt the shivers running down her spine. "Our lips sort of touched, but not really..."

Her friend snorted, going back to her seat on the bed.

"What's so funny?" Mel huffed. "I'm in the middle of a crisis and you decide to have a laugh!"

"What'd you want me to say?" Hermione giggled. "Everyone knows you like him, and he likes you back– We're just waiting to see who's the first to give up and say you've got it bad for the other."

"That's the problem, 'Mione," Mel's lip quivered. "I don't know if I want to 'have it bad' for him..."

"Why? He's your best friend, so far one of the most decent boys at school."

"Precisely," Mel sat on her own bed, hiding her face behind both hands. "He's my best friend–  What if I'm just confused? What if I ruin a perfectly good friendship because I think there might be something and everything gets complicated–"

"You're overthinking," Hermione moved to sit on her bed, patting her knee lightly. "You and Harry have something special, I think it'd be worth the risks..."

"We're too young!"

"I'm not telling you to ask him to marry you!" Hermione rolled her eyes. "Yes, we're still children but it wouldn't hurt to talk it out– at least let him know that if he thinks there's a possibility in the future... well, you're more than disposed to try."

Mel hugged her legs close to her chest and sighed. Was she ready to try? She's not even sure she's falling! This could be a new level of platonic appreciation, he's the oldest friend she has, maybe what she's feeling is normal?

Right, wanting to kiss your best friend is a clear sign that you love having him as your best friend.

She shook her head, tired of the uncertainty.

"What if he doesn't want the same?" She asked quietly. "What if then he steps back and then I'm just another of his lovesick fans?"

"You could never be that," Hermione assured her. "Not with the way he talks about you."

"He talks about me?" Mel inquired with the smallest glimmer of hope.

"Yes," The girl smiled. "He rambles– Ron has to shut him up because he could pass a whole hour talking about the new lessons you completed, or that funny thing you told him during lunch... when you're either with Dumbledore or... Erick," The name slipped easier out of her mouth, but still bitter on her tongue.

This could mean many things, but all of them concluded on the same little thought: He thinks about me.

Although this helped her a great deal with her embarrassment, she was incapable of spending time alone with him now, Mel would make up an excuse to walk the other way or Harry would mumble something about forgetting his quill. She didn't know if he was doing it out of kindness, maybe he could sense she was on edge.

Or perhaps, he was just as confused as her.

Harry was the normal amount of talkative with others on the daily, but there wasn't a day where they didn't share inner jokes or spend time ranting about something that annoyed them that day (usually Malfoy). However, after her mistake during the Quidditch final, things simply couldn't move forward with them.

The exams were right around the corner, and the common room was deadly quiet most days, with Fred and George finally deciding to take their studies seriously, the only distraction she had from time to time was Erick. Unfortunately, his friends were almost always accompanying him to the library to study, which had him in an awful mood and unable to join her table. With the arrival of their exams schedules, the realization that Mel was yet to find out how on earth was Hermione taking two tests every hour hit her. She didn't want to explain it to her, which made her terribly suspicious.

"Hermione?" Ron said cautiously, because she was liable to explode when interrupted these days. "Er — are you sure you've copied down these times right?"

"What?" snapped Hermione, picking up the exam schedule and examining it. "Yes, of course I have."

"Is there any point asking how you're going to sit for two exams at once?" said Harry.

"No," said Hermione shortly. "Have either of you seen my copy of Numerology and Gramatica?"

"Oh, yeah, I borrowed it for a bit of bedtime reading," said Ron.

Mel let out a tiny giggle, locking eyes with Harry.

Both kids snapped their heads in opposite directions, clearing their throats and pretending to be busy with something else. Luckily, Hedwig arrived immediately after.

"It's from Hagrid," said Harry, walking towards the window and taking the note his owl was offering to him. "Buckbeak's appeal — it's set for the sixth."

"That's the day we finish our exams," said Hermione.

"And they're coming up here to do it," Harry continued. "Someone from the Ministry of Magic and — and an executioner."

Mel's thoughts of unrequited feelings disappeared, her outrage bigger than her shame.

"They what?!"

"They're bringing the executioner to the appeal! But that sounds as though they've already decided!"

"Yeah, it does," said Harry bitterly.

"They can't!" Ron replied just as angry. "I've spent ages reading up on stuff for him; they can't just ignore it all!"

They were ignoring all, though. The last day of their exams they run into the minister himself, the executioner, and the representative of the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures. It was endearing and all.

Mel had the feeling that she'd done well enough in all her exams, even Potions. Her favorite was Defense Against the Dark Arts, a whole obstacle thingy– Her uncle made sure to tell her she'd made the full marks of it. She was quite proud of herself.

Their last test was Divination, and she had a jolly time throughout the whole fifteen minutes Trelawney forced her to sit down and stare into a crystal ball, decks of cards, a teacup, and her own hand.

Not.

She stayed around to wait for the boys, but she'd forgotten that their Professor was alternating the names, so instead of being Harry the first one to pass, it was Ron.

They stood there awkwardly for about ten seconds in which Mel pondered what she should do. She could either be a child and run away from her own feelings, or she could move past them and take care of the actual important things they were dealing with, like Buckbeak's trial.

Mel let out a defeated sigh and walked over to her best friend, she leaned on the wall and slid to the floor, tired of not being able to act normal around him.

"Everything'll be all right," Harry tried to cheer her up, sitting down next to her.

"I hope so, it's the first time I see Ron reading thousands of books so passionately," She chuckled lowly. "They still have one last chance."

She looked up and locked eyes with the boy, his stare was just as welcoming as always, even eager, it had been quite a while since they started avoiding each other.

"Glasses," She cleared her throat anxiously. "What I did during the Quidditch final..."

"You don't have–"

"I was euphoric and I acted out of impulse," She pressed on, ignoring him. "I am so sorry for making you uncomfortable– Please don't be upset, I promise it won't happen again."

She braced herself for the impact, hoping to see him visibly sigh and thank her for the apology, maybe even saying that he was afraid she was trying something when he clearly didn't want it.

Harry's chest deflated and his brows knitted together when his mouth opened to speak. He didn't get to talk though, not at first, but when he saw the worried expression on her face he cleared his throat, nodding shortly.

"It's okay, Mellow," He said with a small -was it sad?- smile. "I wasn't upset, just wondering why were you acting so oddly..."

"I thought I had stepped out of boundaries..."

"That must be the first time you care about those," Harry snorted.

Mel let out a tiny laugh, this time more comfortable.

"Shut up," She shook her head. "We're still friends?"

"Always," Harry smiled. "You won't get rid of me that easily, remember?"

Mel smiled, leaning her head on his shoulder and missing the look of mild pain in his eyes.

"Hey," She said, remembering something. "Why was Snape so pissed about the map? What did it do?"

"Why are you asking me about it?"

"Just curious, I've been meaning to ask you for a while now..."

"Well, at first nothing came up, but then words started to appear– they were insults towards Snape, all coming from the people that made the map: Padfoot, Moony, Wormtail, Prongs, Ruddy..."

"Hmm," Mel's eyes narrowed. "I feel like I've heard those before..."

"Fred and George had the map first, maybe they told you about them?" The boy offered.

"Yeah," She yawned.

Harry told them to go once their friend climbed down the stairs. Ron was so eager to start relaxing that he happily obliged, dragging Mel with him. Harry promised to join them after his examination.

"Let's play chess!"

"I'm awful at it," Mel huffed. "You'll win!"

"Gobstones?

"The winner gets to ask whatever they want from Hogsmeade the next time we go?"

They found Hermione in the common room, way more relaxed than before.

"I'm so proud of you!" Mel sat down next to her, giving her the biggest hug.  

"I told you I could do it!" Hermione groaned, pushing her away lightly. "I told you!"

"It's different said than done," Mel grinned.

One of the School's owls tapped on the window and she got up to open it, the owl dropped a piece of paper on Ron's lap and left just as soon as it had appeared.

"What does it say?" Mel rushed over to them, reading above Ron's head.

'Lost appeal. They're going to execute at sunset. Nothing you can do. Don't come down. I don't want you to see it

Hagrid.'

"No!" Hermione gasped.

"I can't believe it!" Mel flopped on the armrest, completely devastated. "Poor Buckbeak, poor Hagrid!"

Harry arrived at that moment, he was breathing harshly, for some reason he'd run all the way over to the tower.

"Professor Trelawney," He gasped, "just told me—"

But he stopped once he noticed their expressions.

"Buckbeak lost," Ron sounded deeply affected. "Hagrid's just sent this."

Harry took the note and read quickly, his face fell.

"We've got to go," He said. "He can't just sit there on his own, waiting for the executioner!"

"Sunset, though," Ron looked out the window. "We'd never be allowed... 'specially you, Harry..."

Harry ran his hands through his hair in frustration.

"If we only had the Invisibility Cloak..."

"Where is it?" Hermione asked.

"Under the one-eyed witch– there's a passageway, but if Snape sees me anywhere near there again, I'm in serious trouble."

"That's true, if he sees you..." She quietly got up. "How do you open the witch's hump again?"

"You — you tap it and say, 'Dissendium,' " said Harry. "But —"

Hermione held Mel's wrist and dragged her out of the common room.

"All right– Sure, I'll help," She said with amusement. "Are we seriously going to get Harry's cloak?"

"Shhh!" Hermione replied. "We ought to be with Hagrid, he needs us!"

"Merlin," Mel continued, jumping lightly. "Why so eager to break the rules, Miss Granger?"

"I'm not trying to break anything," She scoffed. "But they have been terribly injust to Hagrid, the least we can do is be there, besides I remember someone telling me I could do both, relax and be the best student?"

"That's true," She grinned. "You're a fast learner."

"Oh, bugger off," Hermione blushed.

Ten minutes later they found themselves standing in front of the witch. Mel kept an eye on the hall for any unwelcomed visitors while Hermione entered the passageway and quietly retrieved the cloak.

"All done?"

"The cloak's safe," Hermione grunted, cleaning the dust off her hands as she stepped out of the statue.

"Cool, let's go!" She turned around only to see Faustus and another Slytherin boy coming their way. "Oh no! – Go back, go back!"

"Look!" She heard an unfamiliar voice say. "It's the nutt-head!"

"And the Know-it-all," Faustus replied with a nasty smirk. "Alone."

"Unlike you, we don't need to be guarded," Mel frowned. "Leave us alone–"

"We don't enjoy the company of scumb," He sneered. "But we got matters to attend with you..."

She heard Hermione gulped next to her, but both girls (tiny compared to the boys' height and size) stood their ground.

"What?"

"You haven't apologized."

"Oh, sod off! Your friend didn't care, you're just looking for an excuse. Now, if that's the best your bird-brain can do, we've more important things to–"

"You're staying," The other boy pulled out his wand.

Mel felt her blood run cold, she had forgotten her wand back in the tower and she wasn't allowed to used wandless magic at all. Hermione raised hers, but against two older Slytherin... they had very slim chances to get out of there unharmed. That, until Erick appeared around the corner the Slytherins had come from.

"Griffin," He frowned, not noticing who were they talking to. "Isn't it a bit late to be tormenting first yea–"

His eyes landed on Mel and Hermione, he stopped four feet behind his housemates. His eyebrows raised ever so lightly, as if his interest had increased, but barely.

"Hello?" He looked at the boys. "Are you guys planning a double date?"

His voice sounded casual and controlled, the other two boys snickered at this.

"We found them here on their own, thought you might appreciate to get a proper apology out of this nut-head's mouth," The boy, who now Mel knew as Griffin, explained.

Erick's eyebrows fell into a frown.

"Apologize?"

"She crashed into you the first day of school, remember?" Faustus made a face. "That Potter tried to fight you because of it."

"If my memory doesn't fail me, he was trying to fight you, not me."

"All the same, we have them cornered!"

"We're standing in the middle of a hall," He stated.

"You want payback or not?" Griffin spat.

"I don't," Erick tilted his head, his frown never leaving his expression. "Are you twelve? I couldn't care less about what a pair of Gryffindor girls did to me by accident months ago."

Faustus' eyes widened, he wasn't expecting that reaction.

"But– She's... She's the Dumbledore girl."

"Yeah, and you're the Gibbon boy," He raised a brow. "Griffin is a Singh boy– I'll say it again, I don't care who she is, I won't risk my Prefect badge just because you're bloody bored, Faustus. Let. Them. Go."

Faustus and Griffin lowered their wands, grumbling and walking past them, pushing harshly on Hermione's shoulder. Mel held her in place.

Erick stayed behind. He seemed to be struggling between asking them if they were fine or just walking away. Mel was about to talk when Griffin yelled from the other side of the hall.

"Flint, what're you doing?"

Erick jumped lightly, his frown increasing as he looked over to the boys.

"Nothing! – Just checking you didn't do anything stupid like hurting the Headmaster's grandaughter!–"

"Niece..." Mel grumbled.

"I know," Erick whispered without looking at her, his frown never disappearing.

He left after that, hurrying to catch up with his housemates. The girls stood there in stunned silence until Mel turned to Hermione.

"Was that enough proof of his loyalty?"

"Please," Hermione huffed, starting to walk towards their tower. "I don't doubt him since our last session– No person would sit for hours and weeks to hear us talk about how muggles' lives just to hurt someone. I'm yet to find out why he needs to know all that, though..."

"You can ask him later, if he trusts you he'll tell you," Mel shrugged. "But see? He's a good boy! He wasn't hiding anything!"

"What about you?" Hermione asked while walking through the tapestry.

"What about me?" She frowned

"I don't worry about Erick's loyalty, but I worry about yours..."

"What?" Mel laughed. "What are you saying?"

"You haven't told Harry about Erick," She retorted. "You promised months ago, but you haven't. You don't trust Erick enough to let him meet Harry, or you don't trust Harry– I don't know which one's worse."

"That's not it," Mel replied calmly, though she could feel her heartbeat racing. "I trust them, I just..."

Hermione didn't pressure her to speak, she waited until they were climbing the stairs towards the Fat Lady.

"They'll get upset– It's been three years, I promised I'd keep our friendship a secret and then I go out of my way to tell you– it's not fair to hide things from my best friend, and it's not fair to talk without Erick's consent either..."

They walked into the common room concluding their discussion, Hermione handed the cloak back to Harry, Ron was beyond amazed.

"Hermione, I don't know what's gotten into you lately! First you hit Malfoy, then you walk out on Professor Trelawney —"

"Best Gryffindor in our year," Mel smirked, putting an arm around her friend's shoulders.

Next Chapter —>

Taglist.

@tiphareth2018 @vampiregirl1797 @siriuslysirius1107 @celestialhayi @mikariell95 @omiwashere​ @thesuitelifeofafangirl​ @reverse-hxlland​ @steve-thotgers​ @kylosleftbuttcheek​ @tomshollandz​ 

[acc3ssdenied]

BRUISED | 03

SUMMARY: You don’t know what you expect when your best friend and her boyfriend invite you to one of his friend’s parties. But, it certainly wasn’t for you to be at an underground boxing venue the next day and for you to be thrown into a world that you had no idea existed

PAIRING: boxer!jungkook x reader

GENRE: non idol au, boxer!jungkook, badboy!jungkook, tattoo!jungkook, angst, fluff, smut

WARNING: explicit language, honestly this is pure chaos i don’t know what i was on when i wrote it but please enjoy :)

WORD COUNT: 3.0k

A/N: i really love the whole jungkook with tattoos and him being a boxer/ badboy so I have decided to write my own! this will have updates alternating with mélomanie most likely but, i also have to keep up with my wattpad schedule. please tell me what you think and ask if you would like to be added to the tag list <3

TAG LIST:  @singulari-taes @lil-bai-of-sunshine @diab1a @bts-trash24 ​ @rubydotexe @ryulite @dammit-jjk @bbyboihongjoong  @bunnyboyjjk​ @taehyungiev13 @scvkjinrecs @milkandminie @screamingshoes @mygscafe @kimvantaee @pleasantpeachstudent @fivesecondsofsarang​ @frenchki​ @gukksluv

CHAPTER THREE

What was wrong with you? How could you allow your opinion of him to change so quickly? You only had one answer: he smiled. That night, he smiled at you genuinely for the first time and he actually looked his age. You had asked Chaeyoung more about him after that night as you couldn’t sleep and it turned out you were the same age; not that anyone could tell as he looked at least 25 most of the time. Jeon Jungkook was most likely going to ruin you. You knew it and frankly, you were ready to embrace it. If you were to die at the hands of his doe eyes and childlike laugh, you would die happy. You needed to calm down; here you were, barely acquaintances with him, but you were ready to die at his hands. Chaeyoung shared the same opinion.

“I really don’t get why you’re so…” she paused to think of the right phrase, leaning against your kitchen counter as she watched you finish making your coffees, “Worked up over this. I mean, apologising was the decent thing to do - so obviously he did it.” She hadn’t been there the previous week so was interested to find out your version of events.

Looking down at your coffee, you frowned, “I-I don’t-” you stumbled over your words, left hand coming up to scratch behind your ear in confusion, “You’re right, I guess. He’s just not what I expected.” The put-out expression on your face made Chaeyoung pause her thoughtful staring to move around the counter.

She leant her head against your shoulder, “Jungkook’s a nice guy when you get to know him but, he’s really quite introverted and can come off as cold. If he had no interest in you, he wouldn’t have made the effort.” Honestly, she wasn’t lying to make you feel better about yourself, she was relaying what Hoseok had said to her over a phone call that morning. But, the bright smile that lit up your features still made her pleased with herself.

Biting your lip slightly, you nodded and downed your coffee. Frowning slightly, you turned to her and asked, “Why are we drinking coffee at one in the afternoon?” As soon as she had arrived, you had begun to make them out of habit but, there really wasn’t any need for them.

Chaeyoung chuckled, reaching around to pinch your side, “Because, you’re a creature of habit with zero common sense.” There was a teasing smile on her face and you let out an offended sound, pinching her in the same manner as she had done to you. The two of you returned to your previous state of petty seven-year-olds who couldn’t share the last cookie and a battle ensued in the kitchen. It was far too fun for you to actually acknowledge that she was one hundred per cent correct in her comment. 

Clicking your tongue, as you tried to straighten your jacket that had become wrinkled in the fight, you mumbled, “Maybe.” You folded your arms over your chest, trying to hide the smile on your face as you watched her pat down the frizz that had formed on her hair.

She stuck her tongue out at you teasingly, mimicking you in a childish voice, “Maybe.” You flipped her off, walking over to the coat rack by the door and pulling your jacket on. Chaeyoung pulled her phone out, checking her texts from Hoseok and the others, “Hobi’s outside and the others have a table at the restaurant.” Nodding, you ran over to where you had left your keys before shoving them into your pocket and leading her to the elevator.

“It’s only a five-minute drive from?” You asked, worrying over whether the three of you were going to be obnoxiously late. Thankfully, your best friend nodded and you breathed out a sigh of relief just as the elevator arrived at the bottom floor.

As always, you could feel Hoseok’s presence before you could see him, the bass of the rap music he played resonating through the ground beneath you. Chaeyoung only scoffed, rolling her eyes at her boyfriend as he wound the window down and blew her a kiss dramatically. You feigned gagging, pausing to lean over and pretend to retch over the pavement, causing you to receive Hoseok’s middle finger.

“Always a delight, Hobi,” you drawled, sliding into the back seat which you had claimed as your designated seat when you first sat in the car, “Always a delight.” He pulled away from the curb, turning onto the main road as he looked at you through the rearview mirror, eyes covered by blue-tinted sunglasses.

Hoseok placed his hand over his chest dramatically, the other one controlling the wheel as he turned right, eyes flickering over to his wing mirror momentarily. A wry smirk played on his lips as he said, “I aim to please,” in a ridiculous and exaggerated posh accent. Chaeyoung muffled her laughter with her palm, refusing to give him the satisfaction of being able to cause any form of joy with his horrendous jokes. You slammed your head back into the headrest, a loud sigh leaving your mouth.

Just as you were about to demand how long you would be, he swiftly turned into the car park and pulled into a parking space right in front of the restaurant. Almost as soon as he had stopped moving, you jumped out of the car; your desire to be fed beating out any want for safety you had previously claimed. The couple decided to take their sweet time - probably in the hopes of you starving to death. Honestly, did they need to hold hands to walk inside?

You bounced on the balls of your feet, scowling at them impatiently as they strolled over to you. Chaeyoung gave you a sly smirk as they finally reached the door, almost as though she knew exactly what you were thinking. Mentally, you noted to buy that voodoo doll you had seen on amazon the night prior. 

It wasn’t hard to spot the group, Seokjin was already lecturing Taehyung loud enough for heads to have turned throughout the restaurant. Rolling your eyes at the typical behaviour, you tucked your hands into your pockets and made your way over to the large booth that took up a large portion of the back corner. Yoongi was the first to spot you, comically leaping up and climbing over Jimin to prance over to you in a manner that was completely out of character. The group watched him with incredulous eyes as he enveloped you in a tight hug, acting as though he had not seen Hoseok and Chaeyoung when he linked your arms together and dragged you over to the booth. 

“Move it, Jimin. I’m sitting beside my queen today.” Namjoon choked on the diet coke that he had been drinking peacefully. Pouting at you in a puppy-like manner, Jimin moved closer to Seokjin to leave enough room for you and Yoongi to sit on the end of the bench. Pulling up two chairs, Hoseok and Chaeyoung sat adjacent to you, their hands already entwining themselves in a disgustingly cute manner. It was then that you looked up, your eyes automatically meeting the Bambi-like ones that you dreaded seeing. You averted your eyes quickly, a pink flush appearing on your cheeks as you made a show of searching through the menu in front of you.

Taehyung sipped from his diet coke, giving you a boxy smile as he leant on the palms of his hands, “You three took your sweet time.” Hoseok and Chaeyoung exchanged a knowing glance, already anticipating the rant that you were about to go on.

You slammed the menu closed, the plastic slapping against the marble of the counter as your head snapped to give the couple an accusing glare, “Well,” you said slowly, jabbing your finger in their direction, “If these two didn’t live with the only purpose to separate me from my one true love, food, we would have been more than on time.” Scowling, you crossed your arms over your chest stubbornly and made a point of turning away from them.

A dramatic gasp came from your right, Yoongi looking down at you with a feigned look of despair, “I thought that I was your only love, my queen?” Namjoon groaned quietly, sinking into the corner as though he could disappear into it and never return. He wasn’t so lucky.

You placed your hand over your heart, a solemn expression on your face that you swore deserved an oscar. “I dreaded the day where you would learn of my betrayal,” you flung your hand out exaggeratedly as you channelled your inner Shakespeare, “But, I couldn’t resist the temptation that it held over me,” you sniffed, casting your eyes into the middle distance, “Can you find it in yourself to forgive me, my king?”

Stubbornly, Yoongi turned away and reached for his glass of water, taking the straw and placing droplets under his eyes to feign tears. Internally, you cursed; how could you allow him to outdo your performance. He turned back to you, answering in a choked-up voice, “Anything for you, my queen.” 

The group had been staring at you in mortification, noticing the attention your scene had gathered from other guests. Jungkook’s chin had slid down to be cupped by his hands as he mouthed ‘what the fuck’ to himself in confusion. Before anyone could ask you what had caused both of you to turn the booth into an improv class, the waiter came to the table.

Unfortunately for you, his eyes seemed to be glued to you as you urgently lunged for the menu, having forgotten your order during your dramatics. You cursed yourself under your breath rapidly, settling on the American-style pancakes and bacon. Breakfast foods were superior and you would fight anyone who disagreed. You supposed the waiter was attractive in a way, he would have been more so if he could have stopped himself from leering at you.

“My name’s Mark, I’ll be your waiter today.” He started taking the orders, going around the table as his gaze never strayed far from your unknowing frame - you and Taehyung were having a silent argument about the validity of breakfast foods during the day, you were winning of course. Eventually, he reached you, the slimy smirk on his face deepening as he met your blank gaze. “And what can I get for you, beautiful?”

You coughed slightly, looking down at your menu with an alarmed gaze. Jesus, he was straight forward. “Um, I’ll have the American-style pancakes, please?” For some reason, you phrased it as a question and you cursed at yourself, you looked vulnerable.

Mark was blocking your view of Chaeyoung, meaning you couldn’t share your usual glance of disgust. He leaned further towards you and you silently wished the booth could have been bigger so you could press yourself further against Yoongi. Damn, what type of K-Drama did he think he was in. A bad one, you decided as he spoke again, “Is there,” he paused, eyeing you suggestively, “Anything else you would like?” Unfortunately for him, neither he nor his number was listed on your menu.

Frowning innocently, you flipped back through the pages of the menu and glanced down at the drinks list, “Could I have an iced Americano as well, please?” Blinking up at him with confused wide eyes, as you closed the menu with a hint of finality.

The waiter managed to hide his taken-aback expression, to his credit, “Sure,” he said. You then decided that he must have been a cockroach in his previous life because he just kept coming back for more. “Is there anything else you like the look of in here?” He winked at you. Internally, you were cursing him out in as many languages as you knew but, your violence was pacified by your desire to be fed and that couldn’t be fulfilled if you were removed from the restaurant for deboning your waiter.

You made a show of pouting down at the menu, “I mean,” you hummed thoughtfully, tilting your head in a lost manner, “There’s nothing else on the menu.” You paused for a moment before turning back to him with a bright smile, feeling triumph run through you as his smirk widened. “Do you know what shade the paint is? I’ve been meaning to redecorate my bedroom and that colour is just perfect.” On your right, you felt Yoongi clutch onto your arm as he tried to stop himself from howling right in the waiter’s face. Taehyung did no such thing, already giggling into Namjoon’s shoulder as the elder covered his mouth.

The waiter cleared his throat, averting his eyes as his face fell into a slight grimace, “Um,” he scratched the back of his head awkwardly, “I’m not sure but, I could ask my manager?” He offered, noting the bright and hopeful smile on your face. If he wasn’t an unprofessional prick you might have felt sorry for him but, alas, he was so you felt no guilt in bringing back your inner Shakespeare for his embarrassment.

“That’s perfect,” you said in a sickly sweet voice, “Thank you so much.” You didn’t let your, disgustingly, bright smile fade until he had scurried back into the kitchen. For the second time in that afternoon, you slammed your head back into the headrest as you blew out a loud breath. 

Yoongi let go of your arm and burst into a fit of hysterical laughter, resting his forehead against the cool marble of the table as Jimin almost collapsed onto his back. You could have sworn that you didn’t agree to lunch with a pack of wolves. Once he had calmed down, Yoongi turned back to your, resting his hand on your shoulder, “That was god tier behaviour,” he turned to the rest of the group with an adamant expression on his face, “I want Y/N’s expression carved onto my headstone.” Taehyung nodded his head in agreement.

Seokjin laughed, a sound coming out of his mouth similar to that of a windshield-wiper, “I thought Jeon was going to cave his skull in if he didn’t stop.” A tense silence fell over the table, you chose to ignore it and take a long sip of the iced Americano that had arrived during their hysterics. The sweet taste of coffee did nothing to block out the sounds of Seokjin complaining, “Don’t threaten me, I’m your hyung - show me some respect!” You could only assume that Jungkook had insinuated that he was going to murder the older man. How unfortunate.

“I thought you were going to ruin his life,” Taehyung said, a hint of laughter still tainting his voice as he jabbed his finger to Jungkook, who was sat on his right, “Like you did to Kook.” A small sound of protest left the younger’s mouth, his bottom lip jutting out slightly that made his face far too vulnerable to have a body with so many tattoos.

You giggled slightly, shooting a small smile towards Jungkook as you feigned a thoughtful look, “I was but, last time I did that I was arrested for murder.” The group shared a wary laugh, knowing you were joking but also slightly doubting it. “I’m joking,” you reassured, taking another sip of your drink, “I spent a night in a dirty jail cell for assault and was banned from all chains of Panda Express for life.” Namjoon and Seokjin blinked at you in surprise, not actually expecting for you to come out with something like that.

On the other hand, Taehyung and Yoongi shared aghast expressions and pressed their hand over their hearts as though they had been shot through the chest, “You can never go into Panda Express again?” You nodded slowly, not quite understanding why they were so horrified, “Is life really worth living without that?” Taehyung said, voice dripping with despair as he reached forward to take your hand in his own.

Your strange moment was interrupted by Mark, as well as another waiter’s, return. “Here are your American-style pancakes,” he said, smirking at your slightly as he allowed his hand to linger on your plate much longer than it should have, “I hope you enjoy.” You nodded stiffly, counting down the seconds until he would disappear.

As much as the restaurant’s service was a bit horrific, they made extraordinary looking pancakes. You would have devoured them on the spot, had you not noticed the folded napkin tucked beneath the edge of the plate. At least you knew why he was so fixated on your plate. Scoffing quietly, you reached for the napkin and gently unfolded it. Typical. ‘Mauve’ was so not a paint shade and you would most definitely not be contacting his mobile number for any further information.

“I didn’t order desperation on the side of my pancakes,” you muttered, scowling at the napkin as you tossed it to the middle of the table. You noticed the smile on Jungkook’s face, he tried to hide it by focusing on the pizza in front of him. A giggle escaped your mouth and he looked up to meet your gaze, his eyes round as he gave you a small smile. For the first time since the group had entered the restaurant, the booth was silent. It was only interrupted by a loud sneeze coming from in front of you. You looked up, seeing Jungkook covering his nose and mouth with the napkin that Mark had given to you.

A small chuckle left your mouth and you glanced to your left, immediately spotting the crestfallen expression on the waiter’s face. Tragic. It must have been an accident, he couldn’t have known what was on the napkin and intentionally grabbed it when he sneezed. Despite knowing this, it didn’t stop the small smile that tugged at your lips for the rest of the meal.

✰✰✰✰✰✰✰

A/N: this is shorter than it usually is but it’s for sure more of a filler chapter :// i know i haven’t updated in a while and I’m sorry for that <3 my mental health at the moment is almost nearing rock bottom so its a lot harder to write for me but I’m doing my best. please feel free to send me asks because i love talking to you all and please ask me if you would like to be added to the tag list :) Also if anyone could please tell me why my tag list never works on mobile it would be greatly appreciated i think it’s something to do with the html coding but idrk how it works. i’ve restated the ones that don’t work but if you’ve been tagged twice please tell me so i can remove it

@bunnyboyjjk @taehyungiev13 @scvkjinrecs @milkandminie @mygscafe @screamingshoes @kimvantaee @pleasantpeachstudent @fivesecondsofsarang @frenchki

[bifuriouswaterbender]

Harry Potter Fanfic Recommendations about Trans Characters

I will not pretend to be an expert by any means when I am cis, but I’ve come across plenty of stories with trans characters in the past and wanted to not only re-find them but also discover more. Here is a far-from-comprehensive list of links sorted by which character is trans. Some of these stories have more than one, in which case I deferred to the protagonist. 

I intend to keep adding to this as I discover more, so if anyone has specific recommendations, please send them my way! I only have ten listed thus far, but I wanted to get the list out there.

Harry Potter

the girl who lived (again) - Features Harry/Ginny. 10,330 words. Rated G.

Molly tried her best. When Harry had told them, Arthur had asked excitedly, "is this a Muggle thing?" Hermione had hurried out a "no!" and a frantic history of gender diversity in the wizarding world.

"It's just that I'm a girl," Harry had said, and Arthur had nodded and asked her about how telephone booths worked. He would call her by the right pronouns until the day he died at the respectable old age of one hundred and thirty three, and he would make it seem easy.

But Molly had to try. Hermione explained things faster and higher-pitched every time Molly messed up a pronoun. Molly frowned and muttered and put extra potatoes on Harry's plate at breakfast. Harry slept in Ron's room, which didn't bother either of them but which made Hermione scowl.

Harry got boxes of sweets and warm hugs, as Molly chewed things over. For her fifteenth Christmas, the Weasley sweater she would receive would be a bright, friendly, terrible pink.

The next time Harry visited, Molly put her on Ginny's floor to sleep-- for some definition of sleep that involved Hermione hissing threats at three in the morning if Harry and Ginny didn't "shut up about Wronski feints, do you know what time it is."

My note: This story is actually a re-imagining of her whole book story. Her name is considered at one point, but she decides to keep using Harry because she feels it fits her. It also includes references to other trans and gender fluid characters.

Draco Malfoy

The Only True Goal of the Universe - Features Harry/Draco and background Hermione/Ron, Seamus/Dean. 22,753 words. Rated E.

It comes up, as most juvenile things do, in a game of Truth or Dare.

Shenanigans - Features Harry/Draco and background Hermione/Ron. 4823 words. Rated E.

Of course Draco’s orgasm hits him right as Potter does the one thing he’s not supposed to do. Of fucking course.

Or, the blood curse lingering over the Malfoys has landed on Draco, and he’s doomed to get knocked up by the first cock that gets inside his cunt. Just his luck that cock ends up being Harry Potter’s.

Hand-in-Hand and Handkerchief - Features Draco/Astoria. 3008 words. Rated G

Draco Malfoy is not generally sympathetic to the sight of tears, but when he stumbles upon a second year Slytherin sniffling in the rose garden during the Yule Ball, for once he manages not to be a complete arse. Astoria is just glad that he had a handkerchief in his pocket because she forgot hers.

My Note: This includes three trans characters, including a happy adult example. It also has mention of a really cool magical potion idea for transition that the author has provided a free-for-use explanation of here.

Sirius Black

Discards - Features Remus/Sirius, James/Lily. 76,032 words. Rated M. Modern non-magical AU.

When 21-year-old assistant librarian Sirius spots a cute hipster college student at the Seattle Public Library, he just needs to figure out a subtle way of determining whether he's into guys. But Remus's life is more complicated than Sirius knows.

My note:  Tons of diversity within this cast with no white main characters and many different sexualities mentioned. Also sex positive with great commentary about homelessness, HIV, sex work, classism, and more. 

Live Like We’re Renegates - Remus/Sirius and background Lily/James. 24,378 words. Rated E.

Exuberant, proud, genderfluid, cheerleader, self-described narcissist. All things to describe Sirius Black. It's a stark contrast from the self-imposed loner, Journalist, and Gender Studies major Remus Lupin who is thrown into Sirius' world after accepting a project for a class. When the two worlds collide, both lives are changed for the better.

Sirius leant forward a bit, meeting Remus’ eyes. “Are you asking if I go for cute boys in beanies and jumpers, Remus Lupin?”

Remus’ face went hot. “Er. No. I mean…er…”

Sirius laughed. “Find your chill, love. I’m joking.” He winked at Remus and sat back again.

My note: Sirius is genderfluid and uses He/Him pronouns. Remus is deaf with a cochlear implant.

Lay Your Hands on Me -Features Remus/Sirius and background Lily/James. 8947 words. Rated E.

In which Sirius really likes trying out new hairstyles over the years and Remus really can't concentrate on much else, to be honest. This fic features reckless and impulsive teenage boys, classic Marauders-style banter, a low-key overdramatic Remus, and falling in love with close friends.

Or, alternatively: Three times Remus really wanted to touch Sirius' hair and one time he actually did.

Remus Lupin

TransFigured (and continued series) - Features Remus/Sirius. 57,170. Rated E.

“We thought you might be a werewolf," said Sirius. "What?" Remus almost laughed at the absurdity. "Last year. James and I thought — but the dates didn’t quite match up. With the full moons, I mean." "Well, I’m not." "I know. All I meant was, we thought you might be, and we still wanted to be friends. Whatever you’re not telling us — how much worse can it be?"

All Hail the Outlaws - Features Remus/Sirius and background Lily/James, Peter/Dorcas. 29,330 words. Rated E.

One of Remus Lupin's three jobs happens to be working maintenance for their flat building. He gets to meet all sorts, most of whom he would rather have nothing to do with. Until James Potter and Sirius Black move in across the hall. Engineering students and self-proclaimed geniuses, the pair set out to make their neighbours new best friends, and everyone's life is turned upside down, but in the best way possible.

My note: Sirius is blind, and the fic spends a lot of focus on each man’s experiences with bigotry and learning how to best be there for each other.

Succession of Halos - Features Remus/Sirius and background Lily/James. 7340 words. Rated E

When Remus gets talked into seeing his favourite author--Astronomy Professor S. Black--hold a stargazing lecture, he anticipates a stodgy old man in tweed. He does not expect the ripped jeans and rolling-stones t-shirt wearing, motor-bike riding Sirius Black with his wicked smile and passion for the stars. Remus is sure there's no chance between them, but little does he know, Sirius has a passion for many things in life, one of which being Remus Lupin.

My note: I have this listed under Remus, but Sirius is also genderfluid. Baby Harry is featured in the story, and is blind.

Child Characters

‘Twas Brillig - Features Harry/Draco with failed Harry/Ginny. 73,998 words. Rated E.

Harry reads a chapter of Alice's Adventures in Wonderland to his children before bed every night and through the story, he and his middle child find an ally in each other as they, along with Alice, discover a world that just doesn't seem to make sense when taken at face value. The more aware Harry becomes - embracing his child's reality - the more motivated he is to build a wizarding world that is fully inclusive, and by processing these life lessons finds he's able to connect with another person in ways that have always eluded him.

My Note: There are two trans characters in this story, one being Al (who begins using Alice with Al still as a nickname) and another being an adult I’ll leave unnamed because it comes up organically. This story is as much if not more so about Harry’s sexuality, and there is also strong representation of drag and crossdressing from a cis male character.

Miscellaneous

When The Letter Comes by Sara Fox - A published short story that seems definitely inspired by Harry Potter but also by other fantasy works.

Henry believes that someday, something awesome will happen–everything will turn out all right and all her problems will disappear once her letter arrives, welcoming her to magic school. So even though puberty is already here with changes (like her voice deepening and hair growing in places she does not want), she also knows it’s only a matter of time. After all, hundreds of books have said so.

But when the letter finally comes on Henry’s thirteenth birthday, it is not addressed to her, but to her sister.

When The Letter Comes is a short story with a YA trans protagonist that embraces the experience of those left behind, who must find their own way in the world–magic or not.

[istheresomebodywhocanimagine]

For Your Troubles

anonymous said: Can I please request some fluff where Roger comes home drunk and reader gives him a bath (or the other way round) and it’s all just very fluffy and cute❤️

(a/n: here’s a cute lil fluffy rog imagine for yall!!! i’ll probably close my requests again in a couple days, the response to it being opened was overwhelming skskksk. i also just started my job again so i’ll be tired af most times so the turnover on these might be a tad slower for these next two weeks - just gotta get this semester over with and then i should have a bit more time to work on these. but yall seriously have the cutest ideas what the fuck i could never come up with these cute lil requests)

“Roger fucking Taylor... I cannot believe you!”

“That,” Roger slurred, pressing a finger to the tip of your nose and smiling drunkenly as he stepped inside, tracking all of the mud that was covering his left side in with him, “Is not my middle name, lovie.”

“Are you serious?” you whined as you saw the tracks he was leaving on the hardwood, knowing you’d have to clean them before the moisture warped the wood.

“My middle name is not a curse word,” he reiterated, pulling his shoes off and leaning against the wall with his clean side so he wouldn’t stumble and fall. Though he swayed, he stayed mostly upright as he removed his Converse, throwing them to the side and starting to tromp towards the kitchen. “M’hungry.”

As he disappeared in a drunken stupor around the corner, you stared hopelessly at the mess he had left in his wake, cursing Brian for his ability to get Roger so out of his mind that he came home muddy without an explanation. Grumbling, you went and grabbed a wet washcloth from the bathroom, wringing it out before returning to the entryway. With a sigh, you got down on your hands and knees, then started scrubbing. You truly wondered why you put up with his antics, but then a few seconds later, he gave you a painfully adorable reminder.

Shuffling back out around the corner in his socked feet, he gave you a childish grin that could only be described as captivating. His eyes twinkled with a mischievousness that came out in full force whenever he was drunk, and the mud that coated half of him was so caked on there that an exasperated laugh bubbled up to your lips.

Sitting back on your heels, you pressed a hand to your forehead as you shook your head slowly at the state of him. Despite being the messiest you’d ever seen him, he was still as gorgeous as ever. That smile, that devilish gaze, and that confident stance even when he was piss drunk? Should have been against the law, truly.

“My little maid,” he mused, laughing to himself as if that was the funniest thing he’d ever heard. Taking a bite out of his sandwich he’d made, he stood there with his free hand in his pocket and wiggled his eyebrows as he spoke through the food in his mouth. “My sexy little maid.”

“Get out of here, you pervert!” you laughed, throwing the washcloth at him weakly, and he dodged it with a laugh before he took another bite of his sandwich.

“So mean to meee. Do we have any gin?” he asked, turning on his heels before tromping back into the kitchen, finishing off his sandwich. Scrambling to your feet, you intercepted him before he got to the liquor cupboard and pressed a hand against the door, barring him from opening it.

“You’ve had enough, Rog,” you warned gently, giving him a knowing smile, and he frowned for a moment before wrapping his arms around your waist, ignoring your protests as the mud smeared all over your shirt and pajama shorts. “Let me go, you nasty little mud ball!”

“That’s Mr. Nasty Mud Ball to you,” he countered, grinning dopily before he pressed a series of short, playful kisses to your lips. “And I can’t keep my hands to myself, y’know that.”

You did know that. You knew that all too well, and the glint in his eyes showed that he was just as aware of his touchy-feely nature with you as you were. In fact, Roger was touchy-feely with about anyone – John, Peter, Freddie, Brian if they weren’t fighting – the list could go on and on, especially if he was this drunk.

Scowling gently, you wrapped your arms around his neck and wrinkled your nose slightly at the feeling of the mud transferring to your arm. “Please just tell me how you ended up this disgusting right now.”

“I suppose,” he sighed overdramatically, reaching up to brush your hair behind your ear with his dirty hand purposefully. When you shot him a nasty look, he only grinned and shrugged. “When the sun heats the ocean, the ocean water turns into water vapors that rise into the air, and-“

“I understand the water cycle, smartass – stick to the important parts of your story.”

“Oh! You just wanted the one part, my bad,” he replied sweetly, making you roll your eyes as you tried not to laugh at his antics. “Brian paid me 5 pounds to jump into a mud pit by the river. Come to think of it, where did that wanker put that 5 pounds?” Reaching into his back pocket, he searched around for a moment before he retrieved a horribly dirty 5 pound note, holding it out to you. “There you go, sweetheart. For your troubles,” he added, nodding to the entryway.

Rolling your eyes again, you took the 5 pound note and tossed it on the counter, giggling to yourself as you retreated from his grasp and started heading for the bath. “I’m going to wash off. If you want to join me, feel free.”

“An excuse to see you naked? All in!” he joked loudly, making a mock sad face when you shushed him over your shoulder. Even if your walls were a bit more soundproof than the last flat you’d shared, you still didn’t feel like the neighbors would enjoy hearing about you naked at 2 am. “What? Is it a crime to see my girlfriend buck-naked?”

“It should be a crime to use the term buck-naked,” you groaned, grabbing two towels out of the linen closet before you made your way into the bathroom, Roger close behind and attempting to multitask as he started stripping out of his shirt. That led him to running straight into the doorframe, which made you bust out laughing as you turned the shower on.

“Not funny,” he grumbled, rubbing his shoulder as he tugged his shirt the rest of the way off, tossing it into the hamper. You just giggled some more and stripped out of your clothes, Roger ridding himself of the rest of his. When you nodded towards the shower, he whined before stepping in and letting you rinse the mud off of him with the shower head. “Babe, I feel like a 5 year old with you washing my hair like this.”

“Remind me who literally jumped into a mud puddle because he got a few pounds to do so?” you teased, Roger whining some more but leaning into your touch as you scrubbed at his hair, shaking your head and grinning. “We can take a bath after this.”

“Oh my God, a bath sounds so good right now,” he groaned, closing his eyes as the water ran over his face. “Can we take a bubble bath? I’d like a bubble bath.”

“We can take a bubble bath,” you confirmed, Roger cheering for a moment but quickly stopping when he felt his foot slip a little bit. But of course, he overacted it and flailed his arms, wrapping them around your waist and pressing against you. Pretending to be scared, he started taking deep breaths, but failed miserably at hiding a stupid, drunken grin that made you want to kiss him a million times over. “You trying out acting now too?”

“Yes ma’am,” he replied, pecking your forehead before letting go of you to let you finish rinsing him off.

“Don’t quit your day job,” you joked, making him grumble in response as you rinsed the last of the mud out of his hair before turning the shower head on yourself and handing it to him. In retaliation, he sprayed the water directly in your face for just a second, making you gasp and blindly smack his hand away as you tried to wipe the water out of your eyes. “I should have expected that,” you sputtered as Roger laughed gleefully at himself, his shoulders shaking with laughter.

“I love you,” he reminded you as he began to rinse out the little bit of mud that had gotten in your hair. As he focused, he pulled his tongue in between his teeth and furrowed his eyebrows just a bit, a little tic he’d picked up over the years that you thoroughly enjoyed. It made him look not quite so serious when he tried to do something – as much as you loved seeing him look all serious and smart, goofy Roger was by far the most entertaining of his personalities, and goofy Roger was in full effect tonight.

“Love you too, Roggie.” He grinned at the use of Roggie, then handed the showerhead back to you to signal he was done. Putting the showerhead back up, you switched the water over to the faucet, grabbing the bubble bath from the cupboard next to the shower before sinking to sit with Roger, who was stopping the drain. “Your bubble bath, sir.”

He eagerly received the bottle from you, popping the cap open and grinning like a madman as he proceeded to pour almost half of the entire bottle out under the running water. You had to stop him, grabbing the bottle back from him and laughing as he tried to defend himself. “I said I wanted a bubble bath!” he cried out, making you alternate between laughing and shushing him as you put the bottle back outside the bath before leaning against the other side of the tub, resting your arms on the edges and looking across at him with a fake playful glare. “You’re so far away,” he whined when he finally switched focus away from the bubbles, giving you the saddest puppy dog eyes he could manage as bubbles quickly began to fill the tub.

“Then come ‘ere,” you replied, patting the slowly rising water between your legs, and he obliged, sliding over so he was resting between your legs and laying back against your chest. Both of you just sat in silence for a while, letting the water rise until it was foaming at your chests – then, you stopped the water before wrapping your arms around Roger’s neck from behind, just resting there lazily with him.

“God, I’m tired,” he murmured, resting his head back on your shoulder as he closed his eyes, relaxing more. “You’re such a good pillow.”

“Don’t fall asleep on me now, blondie, I can’t carry you back to the bed,” you laughed softly, kissing his temple as he groaned softly, not wanting to move because of how warm it was. And you knew the feeling – the warmth of the water enveloping the two of you was lulling you off into drowsiness, the bubbles only adding to the sensation as you watched them rise and fall against Roger’s chest with every movement of yours, the action causing a few bubbles to gather on his skin and making him glisten.

“Can you wash my hair again? It felt nice,” he mumbled, pressing a quick, lazy kiss to your jawline as he waited for your confirmation. When you affirmed the question, he slowly sat up a bit and hummed in appreciation as you grabbed his shampoo from the edge of the tub, putting some in your hands before methodically lathering it into his golden tresses.

“You like that, sleepyhead?” you asked, smiling when he nodded and sunk down into the water to rinse his head off. Popping back up after a few moments, you’d already retrieved his conditioner and you squirted an appropriate amount into your hand before starting to massage that into his hair, gaining another appreciative grunt from him. He leaned into your touch as you ran your fingers through his hair, gently pulling through knots and making sure you’d distributed the product to his liking. You knew he was partial about his hair, so you took extra care to make sure it was in there right before you patted his shoulder, letting him sink down to rinse it out again while you shampooed and rinsed your own hair.

“You’re a saint,” he said after resurfacing, turning around so he was cross-legged and facing you. When he saw that you were conditioning your hair already, he pouted a bit and reached out to help you, pushing your hands out of the way. “I could have returned the favor.”

“S’okay, Rog, I don’t love you any less for it,” you giggled softly, watching him smile sleepily a bit as he helped work the last of the product into your hair before you dipped it below the water again, rinsing it off and wringing it out when you returned to a sitting position.

Roger was still watching you when you opened your eyes, albeit sleepily, and the dreamy glazed look in his baby blues made you blush lightly as you grabbed a small handful of bubbles, pressing it to his nose. He chuckled, doing the same for you, then leaned in for a quick, messy kiss before he was resting between your legs again, just leaning forward against you this time and resting his face in the crook of your neck.

“You’re not mad at me for making the floor dirty, are you?” he mumbled into your neck as you pulled the drain stopper string up with your feet, letting the water start to drain.

“I mean, I’ll probably be mad tomorrow, but right now? No,” you murmured, nuzzling his hair and rubbing his back as you closed your eyes, relishing in the last few moments of peace before you had to get him dressed and to bed while ignoring his drunk flirting. You’d been with Roger for several years now and it never failed – every time he came home drunk, he’d always flirt with you like it was the first time he’d ever met you. It was a cute quirk, a bit annoying sometimes when he’d had too much to drink, but you hadn’t gotten tired of it yet.

When the water had finally drained, you stopped rubbing his back and gently squeezed his side to indicate that it was time to get up, which was met with a series of whines and protests from him as he crawled to his feet, climbing out of the tub with you and grabbing a towel to dry himself off. You did the same, moving out of reach of where he could towel snap you as you made your way back to the bedroom.

And of course, he followed, wolf whistling when you opened the closet and pulled out a baggy shirt of his to wear. “Look at you,” he said in a sing-song tone, resting his hands on your hips from behind and trying to make you sway with him as you only rolled your eyes playfully, handing him a pair of boxers and gently nudging him away.

“I’ve got a boyfriend, thank you,” you replied, pulling on the baggy shirt before retrieving a pair of underwear and tugging those on as well. He took the hint, moving over to dry his hair as he only looked at you from afar with a sly smile, watching you braid your hair in the mirror as his unbelievably loud hair dryer probably woke up the whole complex.

“I’ll be your boyfriend, baby,” he said after he’d gotten his hair dried, trying to saunter over to you seductively but only getting an eye roll and a nod towards the bed. “Oh, straight to the bed? You’re naughty.”

“Roger, shut up,” you laughed, climbing under the covers and pulling them back for him as he slunk in next to you, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you close. Both of you smelled heavenly, Roger taking a deep inhale as he smiled pleasantly, burying his face in your neck again and snuggling close. You pulled the covers over the both of you, wrapping an arm around him lazily as you felt sleep quickly overtaking the both of you.

As if on cue, Roger yawned to confirm the heavy weight already pressing on him, but just as you were dozing off, you could hear Roger murmur softly. “Do you love me?”

“Yes, Rog.”

Silence. “Okay, good. G’night.”

“Goodnight, Rog.”

More silence, then another murmur. “Oh, I love you too.”

“That’s wonderful, babe.”

An immediate reaction from him this time. “That didn’t sound very sincere. Say it back.”

“I just said it.”

“Say it!”

“Oh my god, Roger, I love you, go to sleep!”

A final silence. “Love you too.”

“Jesus Christ.”

taglist - @crosmopolitan @just-ladyme @rogerfxckingtaylor @fourmisfitz @shae-is-not-ok @moreinfinite @fruityfreddie @poachedhazontoast @strawberryfields-forever @imladrs @psychoticobsession @killer-queen-xo @rebelrebelyourefaceisamess @destiel-stucky4ever-loki-queen @wanderingsami @stardvstial @iminlovewith-rogers-car @benyeehawdy @mercurys-bike @mazzelloplots @beaaatle @sunshine112 @wonderless-screwup @rogers-sweatbands @whowaits4everanyway @sunflower-borhap-boys @bitemerog

message me/reply to this to be added to the permanent taglist! REQUESTS OPEN

[hogwartsfirebolt]

I know what you’re thinking! But I promise this third one is the LAST PART of my fic rec list for 2018!!! You can find part one HERE and part two HERE to see all 30 of my favorite fics I read this year. The banner art is by the wonderful @alek-r who was kind enough to let me use her work for this ❤️ Now, once again in no particular order, here it is:

            FAVORITE FICS I READ IN 2018 PART THREE

1. Hesperides - @lettersbyelise​ : Draco Malfoy is not the kind of man to lavish gorgeous Greek holidays on his flings. So Harry doesn’t really know what to make of his invitation.

In under 2k words, Elise immerses us in the lightness, elusiveness of a romantic getaway. Every word in this fic is purposeful and beautiful, and throughout the year I found myself going back to it more than once if only to relive that feeling. I can almost smell the salt in the air, feel the white sand between my toes and the sun warming my shoulders. The full sensory immersion of this fic isn’t limited to that, though, because I was also there for the slow, languorous sex, the butterflies in the stomach, the easy companionship. Simply wonderful.

2. Fast Forward, Two Steps Back - @emmagrant01​ : Everyone knows that Draco Malfoy died in the Room of Requirement ten years ago. So when he suddenly reappears at Hogwarts ten years later, still seventeen years old, Professor Harry Potter’s life gets very complicated.

When I first encountered this story, I couldn’t resist the pull of that summary, I opened it immediately, ignored absolutely all my homework for the day and effectively DEVOURED it. The premise is so interesting, and the way it navigates Harry and Draco’s dynamic when Draco is 17 and Harry is 27 is downright masterful. I am always weak for fics that explore Draco coming to terms with who he is after the events of book 7, and having Harry as someone who already went through all of that and is willing to help was a very refreshing take on the trope… and come on, sexy professor Potter? Sign me the hell up. 

3. Spokesperson - BummedOutWriter : “It was entirely consensual,” Malfoy drawled, as the lights from dozens of cameras flashed across his pale face. In fact, his face was paler than usual. Honestly, gray. “Councilmen Rupert and goblin Gornuk request privacy at this tender stage of their relationship. Excuse me.” And with that, Malfoy hurried off the platform with no explanation of why he was departing so suddenly. Harry could see the slight pooch in his robes where their baby was growing. Malfoy disappeared into the building and reporters yammered in protest. Morning sickness, Harry mused, not quite sympathetic, because Malfoy didn’t seem to warrant it. A bumbling young witch stepped forward and took over the press conference.

This fic is SO good. In just under 3k words, it has everything: a dash of humor, a tiny bit of angst, a teaspoon of pining and a pinch of fluff. It tells a story of a one-night stand that inevitably ties two people together when they’d very much rather not be. The presence of the press in it is really well done, and it has one of the most creative professions I’ve seen around for the HP world; Draco’s snark is inevitably present, and the way he attempts to keep Harry at an arm’s length away at all times without actually managing it rings very true to the pairing. 

4. A Man Named Potter - @l0vegl0wsinthedark​ : Potter begins to take me apart, each savage, pounding thrust peeling away layer after layer of everything that I am, reaming me open in a way that makes me wonder how I’ll ever be able to let anybody else but him fuck me after this.

I have read this series several times, and the reason is that it is simply scorching hot. Yes, like that, in bolds. It is composed of two fics, the first one in Draco’s POV and the second one in Harry’s. I was a bit scared going into it, because I don’t usually read first person POV, but this one is SO well done that I enjoyed it immensely, and the way it was told only added to the absolute hotness that is the first part and the sweetness of the feelings that surface in the second. And hell, if you need some more enticement to go read it, Harry calls Draco kitten. 

5. Boiling Point - @goldentruth813​ : Ferveret - n. boiling point. After an Auror raid gone wrong, Draco ends up trapped in a dodgy safehouse with nothing but Harry Potter’s dubious company and a dwindling supply of food. With only each other and the walls surrounding them, they’re forced to confront their past and their feelings which have long been threatening to boil over.

One of my favorites of Janel’s! The forced proximity trope is always an amazing way to explore how two people fit against one another while providing the space to build trust and get to know each other better, and it is breathtakingly beautiful in this one. It makes you feel it all, the longing, the fear of opening up, the defensiveness that comes with feeling vulnerable, the heartache when facing demons of the past and the love, the love, the love. 

6. Dwelling - aideomai: Curses, James and Lily Potter ride again, several Ministry balls, a teenage Summer of Love, a grim young adult dystopian winter, a few different Draco Malfoys, secrets and the problems re: not having any, alternate lives, impossible lives, real lives, allusions to Dirty Dancing, and just because it’s not called the Mirror of Erised doesn’t mean you shouldn’t know better.

WHERE TO BEGIN. This story is mind-blowing through and through, and it is so damn GOOD I can’t even put it to words. It’s an AU that’s not an AU, a story with all the tropes: childhood friends, post-war, case fic, eight year, everyone lives, nobody lives, canon compliant, non-canon-compliant, summer of love, a group of teenagers having to figure out what the hell is going on, and a DEEP study on how much it does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live. One of my all-time favorites, and one that you NEED to read asap.

7. What We Pretend We Can’t See - @gyzym​ : Seven years out from the war, Harry learns the hard truth of old history: it’s never quite as far behind you as you thought.

This fic is a Drarry classic for a reason. It has the most PERFECT characterizations I have ever, ever read. Draco is snarky and funny and dramatic and just a bit crazy, and Harry is noble and good and they’re both so complex, so lovely it makes my heart ache. In this story, there’s a case involving Draco that Harry is trying to decipher, and in trying to do so, they grow together. The way they are in this one feels like such a natural development, considering everything we know about them in canon, and the way their relationship develops is natural and amazing and I DREAM of the day I have the time to sit down and give this a very thorough reread. It decomposes and rebuilds each of their personalities and it feels so human and so real. A thing of beauty. 

8. Malfoy’s Anatomy - @novareblogs : Healer interns are nothing short of a bunch of little children running around with wands and severed limbs, having inappropriate sex in inappropriate places. What’s the worst that could happen, really?

Here’s something about me: I’m a medical student, and very partial towards Healer stories. It is a trope I actively seek, and out of all the fics that I’ve read that include it, this one paints the REALEST environments I have ever seen. I was cackling all the way through, the relationship between higher-ups and med graduates, how students tail the surgeons (and give them nicknames), having to find a place where you and your friends can study until four am, when you inevitably fall asleep against each other. It is literally what studying medicine is like. And not only is this fic hilarious, it also has a very fresh take on the characterizations. I had never seen Harry like this, and his relationship with his (very much alive) parents feels very real. The way he and Draco slowly come together as they uncover secrets about each other’s pasts is wonderful, and the medical consent that’s handled throughout the story is very well done. A very good read that I didn’t expect to find, yet surprised me in all the right ways.

9. Humbug (A Christmas Tale) - Snegurochka : Draco has been taking his casual relationship with Harry for granted. Visits from four key ghosts the night before Christmas just might shake up his priorities in life.

A beautiful retelling of A Christmas Carol, with delicious pining and gorgeous characterizations. I always do love stories of fuckbuddies who are definitely so much more, but pretend they’re not. That, plus a wonderful redemption arc for Draco? I was sold. This story made me feel butterflies and tear up at times, and I love it very, very much. An excellent fic to read this time of the year. 

10. Away Childish Things - @letteredlettered​ : Harry gets de-aged. Malfoy has to help him.

God. There is so much to say about this story. It’s beautiful, in every sense of the word, breathtaking. Lettered has such a way with words, I felt like I was right there next to Harry and Draco, like I was them, feeling everything they felt. It is incredibly powerful. It made me feel angry, empty, lost and sad and it made me feel excited and elated and hopeful. It made me understand things about myself as the characters discovered things about themselves. This story might be one of the absolute best things I have ever read, in and outside of fandom, and it’s such a thorough exploration of each of the characters that it feels inevitable, it feels like, no matter what the epilogue says, this is what actually happened to them. I cried, I cried so many times from both sadness and happiness. There are simply no words to explain how gorgeous it is. I am immensely grateful to have read it. 

Thank you to all who read my lists, and thank you thank you thank you if you decide to give these works and these authors a chance, because they deserve all the love in the world. All the way from here, behind a username and a few tumblr posts, I can honestly say that these 30 stories made my year. I hope they can make yours, too ❤️ If you ever want to discuss these (or any story really) my DM’s are always open. Happy New Year!

[prince-simon]

hello there I was wondering if take any requests? Could you please write one about David taking care of Matteo with an anxiety attack, kind of like the one where he has in the episode, or an alternative scene where he goes into the room whilst he was melting down?

hi sorry this took so long! i saw this ask and then i was like yeah, i can do that but then i kept procrastinating because i knew exactly what i wanted to do but it’s quite personal so i didn’t know if i could

but yeah, i could so uuuhh, the panic attack that matteo has is one that i’ve had myself and the lovely @skamfairy helped me through it (i hope you’re okay with me taking our conversation and your advice almost word for word for this - it helped me a lot and maybe it helps someone else too in the future. i love you bb)

so yeah, you asked for this, dear matteoluigiflorenzi, so buckle in for quite some pain - this might have been the hardest thing i’ve ever written but it could also just be almost 1.5k of word vomit)

Warning for a very detailed panic attack so please proceed with caution!

Another party, another day that Matteo wasn’t ready to face this many people but for some reason, it was yet another party at the shared flat and Matteo really couldn’t escape it.

So instead, he just sat in a corner, silently drinking beer after beer.

Matteo was painfully aware of Sara missing from the party after their messy break up — or rather, him just ditching her and running off with David instead.

David. Fuck. David also wasn’t here.

Which also was entirely Matteo’s own damn fault.

Their kiss last Friday had been magical. He hadn’t been able to stop smiling about the way it had made him feel for the longest time. Couldn’t forget about the Saturday they had spent cuddling in bed.

It had been a dream.

But that was it. A dream.

David was everything that Matteo wasn’t. He had his life together, knew what he wanted to do after school, had a sister that loved him instead of a messy family life. As soon as he’d find out about the fuck up that Matteo and his life was, he’d take off anyway.

So Matteo had taken that decision from him: he had pulled back.

It hurt and it was awful and Matteo wished it didn’t have to be this way. But this was better than getting even more involved and then David leaving would absolutely shatter him. He didn’t want to end like his mother, who kept waiting for a man to love her that instead kept disappointing her, kept leaving.

Did that make Matteo as bad as his father? Maybe. But this way, David got an out before he was feeling too much, before it was too late.

Suddenly, the whole room quieted down. Matteo couldn’t hear the chatter of his friends anymore, or the music blasting from the stereo. His eyes landed on the person that had just entered their living room.

David. Eyes wide and searching.

Eyes that Matteo had stared into for hours on end just a week ago.

Eyes that found Matteo’s and as hard as he tried, Matteo couldn’t look away.

David came closer and Matteo’s chest tightened. He grabbed the neck of his beer bottle tighter, imagined being strong enough for it to crack in his hands, the shards puncturing his skin.

The pressure was good, welcome.

Breathing got harder and harder and he desperately tried to keep all his focus on the feeling of the warm glass in his hands but his whole body started to itch.

And David still came closer.

The bottle dropping to the ground finally made Matteo look away from David, and he took a gasping breath. Except that it didn’t quite seem to reach his lungs.

His head was rushing and he didn’t see anything when he got up, could only hear his loud, desperate breathing in his ears.

Someone bumped into him and he started shaking, couldn’t stop.

Somehow, he made it to his room. He barely managed to close the door behind him before he slid down to the ground. Pulled his knees up to his chest and bore his nails into the fabric of his jeans.

Desperately, he looked around his room for some kind of distraction, something. Just something to make him fucking breathe again. He was panicking. Knew what was happening but he couldn’t stop it.

Tears were spilling over, drowning him, weighing down on him.

Not far from him, he spotted his headphones on the ground. When he put them over his ears and drowned out the heavy bass from the party, it helped for maybe three seconds. He was still heaving gasps and it was once again all he could focus on.

He jerked the headphones off his head again, buried his hands in his hair instead, pulling on it. The pain gave him a bit of relief but he wanted to pull all of his hair out, his skin too. Just wanted to get out of his skin, get to his brain.

His stupid, useless brain.

“Matteo?”

The voice was quiet on the other side of the door.

“Are you okay?” David asked carefully.

Matteo shook his head, he wasn’t fucking okay. Never fucking has been. He couldn’t stop crying. “No,” He eventually got out, an hour later, or five minutes. Because he’d never been able to lie to David. Had shared more of his fears with him than with any other person in his life who he had known longer than David.

“Okay.” Instinctively, David seemed to know what was wrong because he said, “Try to focus on your breathing. I know it sounds cliche but it works, trust me.”

Focus on the feeling of the air through your nose. The way your chest rises.

Matteo’s nose was clogged and he couldn’t really breathe through it but he tried anyway. His breaths turned a little deeper than before but the tears were still bubbling over and every time he felt more tears hitting his cheeks, he lost focus of his breaths.

If that doesn’t work try and bring all your thoughts back to something and focus completely on that. Like your weight against the door. Focus on something in the present and let it bring you back to here and so you can see that right now you are safe.

Matteo closed his eyes and did that. Pretended to sink into the door, imagined David on the other side. Them being back to back now.

“I can’t stop crying,” He sobbed, hysterical.

“Tell me about the feeling inside you. What’s its shape, the texture. Where is it?” David murmured.

Matteo shook his head, pulled on his hair again. “Everywhere,” He whispered.

“My angel,” David said, “What colour do you think it is?”

Matteo didn’t know, wasn’t sure, didn’t want to say the wrong thing. “Blue maybe?” He said hesitantly.

David hummed, “That’s good, angel. Tell me, what it is? What texture?”

More tears, so many tears. Why didn’t they fucking stop? Shouldn’t he be dried out by now? Instead- “Water. Drowning.”

“Okay, babe,” David said calmly, “I want you to imagine it and now I want you to take a deep breath.”

And then every time you exhale i need you to imagine your body expanding and as your body expands there’s more room for that water.

Matteo took shaky breath after shaky breath, focusing on David’s instructions.

And eventually you will expand so much that there is no way that water inside you can drown you anymore.

Matteo felt his chest expanding, felt the air fight its way to his lungs. Every breath felt like a punch.

Painful, painful until it turned peaceful. “I think it helps,” He croaked after what felt like forever.

“Really good!” Matteo heard the smile in David’s voice, “Keep going until you feel calmer.”

Matteo did as David said until the crashing waves inside of him turned into something less harsher, until the tears falling didn’t suffocate him anymore but caressing him.

Every breath took him a little closer to peace, freedom.

“Do you want me to go?” David asked eventually.

Matteo felt exhausted, wanted nothing more than to curl up in a ball and maybe disappear from the world but David leaving was the last thing he wanted. He couldn’t remember how he had thought that had ever been a good idea. “No.”

“Okay. I’m right here.”

Matteo buried his face against his knees. “You can come in if you want,” He mumbled against his legs, not sure if David would hear him, not sure if he wanted David to hear him.

“Yeah, okay,” David said after a moment and then the door carefully opened and Matteo scooted a little to the left to let David in.

They sat on the ground together not saying anything for a long time.

“I’m sorry,” Matteo whispered then. He should have never kept his distance.

David shook his head. “No. No apologies allowed, I’m just glad you’re feeling a little better now and I could help you.”

Matteo was too tired to argue that he didn’t mean his panic attack but everything that had happened in the past week.

“Only hugs and cuddles are allowed right now,” David mumbled, “If you want to that is.”

More tears washed over Matteo’s face but now there was relief in them. He couldn’t believe that he’d been such an asshole and David still offered cuddles. He truly didn’t deserve this boy.

“I’d like that,” He admitted.

David smiled softly at him. “Okay. Come on then.” He stood up and held out his hand toward Matteo, who grabbed it and let himself be pulled up and toward the bed. David made sure they were burrito wrapped into the blankets but it was his arms that truly made Matteo feel safe.

[shadedrose01]

Burning Hope

Ship: none. Parental/Paternal relationship between Tony Stark and Harley Keener

Summary: Tony goes to visit a boy that he met, and discovers something he shouldnt.

Tags: Alternate Universe - Medieval, medieval times, Knight Tony Stark, Future King Tony Stark, Kid Harley Keener, Even though hes not named at all during the fic, Its him i promise, Magic, Magic-Users, Alternate Universe - Magic, Mages, Mage Harley Keener, I'm Bad At Tagging, I'm Bad At Summaries, Febufluff, Day 20, Butterflies, Fire, Magical Fire, pyrokinesis, Pyrokinetic Harley Keener, Cliffhangers, Badish ending?, Unhappy Ending, sorry :/ - Freeform, Tony Stark Acting As Harley Keener's Parental Figure

Day 20 of Febufluff: "Butterflies"!

Part 2 of the "Devil's Backbone" series

Note: This is apart of my Devils Backbone series. There is a oneshot already written that's apart of this series, but you do not need to read that to understand this one. This fic happens way before that one does, in the past. You can read that oneshot here, but please be mindful of the tags if you do <3

Also this is really bad (especially compared to the oneshot), I'm sorry.

--

Tony walks towards the stables, the tall grass surrounding him swaying into the light summer breeze, and crunching under his weight. His horse, Friday, a beautiful tall brown horse with a blotch of white on his nose, nickers to him in greeting, Tony running a hand up and down her face in response, from her muzzle to her forehead. He takes one last glance at the sky, seeing the sun blazing down on them from the middle of the sky, before he gets to work.

He grabs his leather, hand sewed saddle made for him by his lovely wife, and heaves it into place on Friday's back, making sure its snug into place, before checking the knapsack he had brought with him, ensuring hed have everything he needed for the remainder of the day. Water for him, and some extra, some arrows, some string, some rope, a sewing kit just in case and strung over his back, two separate bows, one significantly smaller than the other. One he had created, hand crafted just the other night. With everything checked off his mental list, he slings the sack over his shoulder, opens the gate in front of Friday, and saddles up onto her, his muscles straining with the effort, even after the countless times he's done this.

He gives her a squeeze of his thighs, and she on the move, galloping out of the stable and towards the town with a steady trot. He passes the stone houses quickly, giving a wave or two to the few people that recognized him, before picking up the pace as they ride towards the woods, towards the edge of the territory.

Towards where a small, rickety straw and mud house stood, cracked and old, deteriorating with time and age. Towards where a little boy stayed, all by his lonesome.

He shouldnt be going this way, shouldn't be getting involved, getting attached the way that he is. He should have left it alone when he found the boy a few days prior, on a random excursion of the edges of the territory. He should have let natural selection take it's course, no matter how cruel it could be. Hell, he didnt even know the kid's name. But, there was something tugging at Tony, twisting up his insides every time he thought about leaving the poor boy alone, to die no less, and it overwhelmed him. He felt compelled to help, felt the knowledge of knowing, knowing that this boy no older than twelve years of age had a part to play in the future of their kingdom, that he had a destiny of some sort. He could feel it, feel it with all of his heart, in the depths of his bones as if God himself had whispered it in his ear, written it into his heart, and sealed it into his brain.

So, he kept returning to the boy, to the house at the edge of the woods, of the world, getting attached to someone he should have never known, hoping that one day he'll understand why. Why he had been lead there, why he had stumbled upon the boy, why he continued to help. Until then, though, he will continue on the path God laid out for him and put his faith into His hands, knowing He would never steer him wrong.

He pulls back on the reins, Friday slowing to a stop as they pull up on the old, worn down structure, the wind whistling through the cracks and holes. He dismounts the beast, rubbing and patting her as he tells her to stay. She shakes her head, puffing air out of her nose in response, as if the idea insults her, making Tony snort in amusement as he walks past her, glancing through the cracks as he goes.

He freezes as soon as he does, eyes widening before he rushes through the door, the creaking wooden slab slamming against the wall, splintering as Tony gapes at the mystical scene in front of him.

What has to be about a hundred or more butterflies are scattered around the room, their wings, their bodies, their being made of a neon, artificial blue fire, flooding the room with harsh light and a sweltering heat. Some are perched around the room, around the structure, but more are flying, flying in some sort of cyclone, some sort of tornado formation, practically swarming around one central point in the middle of the room. One person, one kid sat in the middle of the building, sitting on his legs, eyes closed in concentration, hands held out in a cupping gesture, holding a ball of flames, of fire in his small, small childlike hands.

As soon as the bang of the door echoes, the kid flinches harshly, head swiveling to stare with wide, bright, neon eyes, neon eyes that Tony's only seen a few times, only seen on- no, no he couldn't be a- couldnt be- and all of the butterflies flare up, their flames growing brighter, stronger, before they disappear completely, flickering out into flairs are fade as soon as their formed, the flame engulfing his hands disappearing to. Kid's mouth drops, and he rushes to stand, hiding his hands behind his back and looking absolutely terrfied. "M-Mr. Stark! What- What are you-?"

"You're a mage." He breathes out, his mind reeling with this new information, and the kid flinches back as if stricken, his lighter blue eyes (but not neon blue, not anymore, that having left when the butterflies did, when the magic did) widening even further, looking like the ceramic plates his wife had gotten Peter was born, around eight years ago.

"N-no, I'm not!"

Tony narrows his eyes at the smaller boy, only afew years older than his son seemingly, incredulously. "I saw you, child. With your magic, the butterflies, the- the fire!" He flairs his arms out. "I saw it! I saw it all. You truly expect me to ignore it, and pretend I saw nothing? This is-" he runs a hand through his hair, and starts to pace slightly. "Dangerous, child, this is dangerous! If the town caught whiff of you, much less the guard-"

"Don't tell anyone!" The kid blurts, his eyes looking like oceans, swimming with clear tears and flooded with petrifying fear. "Please, you can't! Momma said if-if anyone finds out, they'll-they'll-" He sobs, his tiny body shuttering, sniffling as hands press up into his face, wiping away the liquid now running down his face. "I'm sorry! I wont do it again, ill- I'll try to control it- I swear!"

Tony feels a rush of adrenaline, a parental, paternal urge rearing his head until Tony's moving forward before he can think, kneeling in front of the trembling child and shushing him gently. "Hey, hey, it's okay, it's alright."

He carefully grabs at the boys hands, covering in dirt and filth, all scuffed and scabbed up, covered in cuts and scrapes, fingernails black, and, ignoring the flinch the boy gives, slowly pries them away from his face, similarly dirt ridden, his entire face marked with brown's and blacks, the only clear part of his face being the trails of tears still running down his face. He looks him dead in the eye, and, even though his mind is screaming at him, says firmly "I won't tell anyone, I promise."

Won't tell anyone?? Is he mad? He needs to tell someone, he's about to become a part of the royal guard! He has to tell the soldiers, the knights, the king, it's a part of the law, now, it's what he's supposed to do, as a man soon to be knighted-

But he can't. He knows he can't, as he feels this fierce wave of protection for this child he doesn't know, this child that isn't his, as he feels the same foreboding feeling as before, as he feels, knows, that this is what hes supposed to do, that this is what's right.

Especially when hope brightens the kids baby blue eyes, the raging storm brewing behind his irises turning into a calm, overcast summers day, and a smile grows wide on his face. "Really?!? You won't tell 'em?"

Tony shakes his head, giving the kid a small smile as he rebrates himself internally, before suddenly letting out a huff as the kid practically knocks him over, embracing him tightly, his tiny, lithe fingers grasping the back of Tony's tunic with a strong hold, almost ripping it in his excitement. "Thank you, thank you, Mr. Stark!"

Tony's nose scrunches up as soon as the kids stench waves over him, but he ignores it, choosing to wrap one arm around the kid's back, patting it awkwardly, feeling his jutting bones through the big, loose shirt the boy is wearing. Over his shoulder, Tony watches as another butterfly forms, the blue fire lighter, wispier than the others were earlier, watches as he flaps its wings a few times in front of his face, the flames licking at his nose, his chin, before it takes flight, flying around the pair once, twice before sprialing upwards and squeezing through one of the cracks in the foundation, flying away, its neon flames blending into the sky.

Tony's smile widens at the unconscious act, at the innocence and purity of it, and wonders, wonders why people believe magic is so bad, why mages are so awful, when they can create beauty like that, at the snap of their fingers, without even a second thought? He wonders, and throws his other arm around the kid, fully embracing him, holding onto the warmth of the moment for a few seconds longer, while he still can. While he still has hope.

A few days later, Tony is send to war, serving his kingdom as a knight. A few months later, he comes home a king, the memory of warmth, of butterflies and of hope vanished like a dream.

[peterstanslizzie]

Re-watching Lizzie Mcguire: Episode 1.12 (Between a Rock and a Bra Place)

The Fan Favorite Episode

- Lizzie and Miranda are lamenting about having to play dodgeball in PE class. They also express their concern about falling behind some of the other girls in their grade because they are now wearing bras unlike them.

- Because of girls like Kate Sanders, they think that wearing a bra will automatically make one popular and empowered in a way. So, they feel like it’s high time they should start shopping for bras.

- Miranda asks Lizzie if her mom, Jo could drive them and drop them off at the mall after school. However, Lizzie thinks that she will want to come along with them. Miranda suggests they should lie to her and tell her they want to shop for school supplies, which should be able to signal to Lizzie’s mom that they are going on a safe and innocent shopping excursion.

“I want a bra!”

They sure do look like they are up to something huh?

- Lizzie and Miranda arrive at Lizzie’s house after school and they prepare themselves to let Jo know that they want a ride to the mall to shop for school supplies. However, there are a couple of cracks in this seemingly full-proof plan; They are not specific enough in mentioning the type of school supplies they want and Jo even called Gordo to come over and join the girls.

- Obviously, Lizzie and Miranda are not keen for Gordo to come along because they are shopping for bras. They then express how Gordo doesn’t need to come along because he’s not in their class where they need those school supplies. But Gordo is in all their classes (except gym); So he doesn’t know what they’re talking about. Looks like they are dropping the ball on this one.

- Jo becomes highly suspicious towards all of this and she questions only Lizzie specifically on what she needs to buy at the mall and Lizzie starts to break down and well, we then get this iconic moment:

Lizzie really wants a bra y’all

- Jo is feeling extremely elated about this revelation from Lizzie and she is delighted to take both Lizzie and Miranda bra shopping. On the other hand, Gordo just feels weird about what just happened and he decided to dis-invite himself from this shopping trip.

Matt: The Martial Artist

My favorite episode of Matt to date

- Matt shows his dad, Sam a page of a magazine showing an advertisement for a ‘Jet Li Sweepstakes’ contest where one lucky person will get the opportunity to appear alongside the Chinese actor and martial artist in his new untitled movie as his new sidekick.

- Sam asks for his wife’s opinion about Matt applying for this contest and she isn’t down for it at first but after Sam tells her that Matt probably isn’t going to win and they will be seen as ‘cool parents’ after this, she then agrees to it.

- Sam wants Matt to go for the conservative essay writing option as their contest submission and as predicted, Matt isn’t too fond of writing one. But because Gordo has decided to stay back to help Matt and Sam with the contest by using his camera to film a short video submission for Matt, Sam has no other choice but to now go for the option of filming and submitting a video.

Lizzie and Miranda Are Grown Young Adults

Miranda is thinking to herself, “How did I get myself into this mess?”

- At the mall, Lizzie and Miranda feel very embarrassed about having Lizzie’s mom to help them shop for bras because Jo is a little too excited about it and teenagers are you know, embarrassed by their parents most of the time.

- They both try to ditch Jo by pretending to be lost but as soon as they scrammed, they bump into their English teacher, Mr. Coppersmith. Okay, who is he and why haven’t I seen or remembered him? I think he is a one-time, one-episode teacher?

- Jo spots them and their teacher and doesn’t seem to pick up on the awkwardness in the room and proceed to hand over a bunch of bras for them to try on, right in front of him.

- Next, we cut to Lizzie and Miranda at the changing room and they are discussing about really telling Jo that they want to shop alone. Jo interrupts their conversation and opens the curtains of the changing stall Lizzie is in. This clearly agitates Lizzie and she kinda snaps at her mom and tells her that they don’t need her help shopping and she needs to leave them alone.

That sudden change of expression done by Hallie was brilliant.

- I feel so bad for Jo; Teenagers can be so insensitive sometimes like me back when I was a teenager. Jo recognizes Lizzie’s frustration and decides to play it cool by not scolding Lizzie and even offers her $40 for them to shop for their bras while she waits for them at the food court.

- Honestly, this is some of the best acting in the show thus far by both Hallie and Hilary.

Gordo: The Director

I think Gordo is a really good male-figure for Matt to look up to, besides his dad.

- Gordo is using this opportunity to put his skills as a director and filmmaker to the test and already, he has planned out the kind of establishing shots he wants to take of Matt. Sam is quite unsure about all of this and he thinks that interviewing Matt and asking him generic questions is good enough for the submission.

- Gordo wants this movie to be big and is confident that this martial arts movie he is about to film is going to set Matt’s entry apart from the others.

One good thing I can say about this is nice try I guess?

- We watch some snippets of the film at first and it doesn’t look too good nor realistic. There was a weird voice-over work done by Gordo, which I guess is the style of dubbed Chinese martial arts films back then and the action scenes were terrible.

- We move over to the scene where Matt tries to take a pebble from his master’s (played by Sam) palm but the scene didn’t go as planned because Sam didn’t stick to the script. He feels that everything Gordo is doing so far is a rip-off of Kung Fu movies out there.

- He then pulls a Jo Mcguire and leaves the kids to do their own thing without him. But what they don’t know is that he has secretly called this guy named ‘David’ for some help. And we all know that this is the late great David Carradine (older brother of Robert Carradine who plays Sam), who starred as  Kwai Chang Caine in the 1970s series, Kung Fu and as Bill in the Kill Bill film franchise.

Kate and Claire Alert

- Lizzie and Miranda are not exactly sure on what they need to look out for when picking out a bra. The are just not familiar with bra sizes. To make matters worse, they bump into Kate Sanders and Claire Miller at the same store.

I think it’s cute that Kate is shopping with Claire and her mom

- We get some bickering at the beginning but things took a turn when they find out that Kate and Claire are both shopping with Claire’s mom. Lizzie and Miranda rub in their faces that they get to shop alone. I think shopping alone as a teen without your parents isn’t what I consider as ‘cool’.

- Anyways, this doesn’t stop Claire from giving them one her shady comebacks before they leave:

Their secret handshake is just a high five and a hair flip lol

Lizzie Needs Her Mom Back

- Lizzie and Miranda continue to be lost when it comes to bra shopping and Lizzie finally recognizes that she needs her mom now more than ever. They find Lizzie’s mom at the food court and try to apologize to her but Jo tells them that she can understand where they’re coming from and admits how embarrassing she can be.

- They admit that although they try to act like adults, they are far from being ready to handle all of this alone. Lizzie also apologizes to her mom for the rude behavior she displayed at the dressing room earlier. She realizes that the adult thing to do is to actually ask her mom for help instead of trying to figure out everything on their own. This is honestly a great lesson to teach to young girls and boys.

Here Comes David

I just get chills from this entrance. David had such amazing presence on screen.

- Matt and Gordo are struggling to film the ‘pebble taking’ scene without Sam and they decide to find him and plead for him to help them. The next thing they know, David pops into the backyard and greatness has basically arrived.

The Carradine Brothers

- Matt demonstrates some of his martial arts ‘skills’ to David and David tells him that he has a lot of work to do. That’s definitely a sure thing.

When the pupil becomes the masters

- We then get a cool montage of Matt’s Kung Fu training and fight scene with David to the legendary song ‘Kung Fu Fighting’ by Carl Douglas. Matt even nails the ‘pebble taking’ scene down. Afterwards, we get a chilling exit from David as he walks back into the house and disappears from a distance.

- Gordo then asks Sam who was that man who all of a sudden came and taught Matt Kung Fu and Sam responds to him and says he has “known him all of his life and is like a brother to him”. Well, that’s because he’s your real life brother lol.

Closing Off

- During Lizzie, Gordo and Miranda’s three way phone conversation, Lizzie remarks how she cannot believe Gordo spent an entire day with her dad and brother but considering the other alternative he had, he was happy with his decision. He just wants Lizzie and Miranda to give him the heads up next time when they shop for bras and other female-gender related items.

What a way to close an episode

- Sam pick up a phone call and on the other end of the line is the person calling from the Jet Li sidekick contest and to his shock and horror, Matt won the contest!

Overall Thoughts

- I can honestly say that this is one of the best episodes of the season so far. Lizzie and Miranda’s bra shopping story-line with Lizzie’s mom was hilarious and cringe-worthy to watch, but in a good way. I’m sure this scene had so many young girls who were able to relate to it.

- The lesson of recognizing and admitting you need help from your parents despite the flawed perception that adults always have to do things solo is very deep and it should be ingrained in every person’s mind.

- And finally, this is the first episode that I actually love Matt and Sam’s story-line. It was super entertaining to watch and although you can say it’s all action and comedy and there’s no lesson to take away from it, everything was executed perfectly. And I appreciate how they were able to get Robert’s brother David to appear in this episode since he was such a icon in the martial arts film and television genre.