but then it hits you that he does it because bonding is burdening for him

What I Read During Vacation

So you may or may not know that I was in Greece for about a month in June and I am finally back home! I had such an amazing time and got to catch up and read some really great fics! I didn’t get to read as much as I hoped I would since each day was jam-packed and I had some other readings to finish for my courses. Nevertheless, I read some awesome fics and I can’t wait to share them all with you! (Also, I’m testing out a new way to show my reviews on these posts as I’ve gotten comments about them being lost within the fic summary! Let me know what you think!)

Kintsugi by witchbane, Explicit, 102k (WIP) ***Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Yuuri Katsuki is a hitman burdened with a debt he can never repay. His target: Viktor Nikiforov, next Pakhan to one of the most dangerous families in the Russian mafia.When the two are drawn into a treacherous alliance after a mission gone wrong, the bonds of love and loyalty to family and duty begin to unravel—even as they get more tangled up in each other. 

Have I said how obsessed I am with this fic? Probably, but I’ll say it again. This is SUCH a good mafia AU filled with action, suspense, sexual tension (!!!!) and amazing writing. MUST read if you like mafia AUs!! 

Money Shot by Ashida, Explicit, 36k (WIP)
So Yuuri waited, felt his heart edge back down from his throat as Victor let him catch his bearings, as he just sat and watched Yuuri calm down, patient even though the time he was paying for was ticking.
“Strip for me, Yuuri.” came his first instructions in the lull of silence, the same words he always got, and this is how it always began.

HOOOOO BOY THIS FIC IS SO AMAZING. I have raved about it so many times on this blog but I really just can’t get enough. SO. GOOD.

Pigeon Alley by DiAnna44, Teen, 31k
What’s meant to be will always find a way. Victor and Yuuri? They’re meant to be.

Incredible actor AU that smashes into you like a train going 100000 km/hr hits you right in the feels over and over and over again. Basically, everything Dianna writes will make you cry forever but her incredible storytelling makes it all worth it, and this fic is no exception. 

cancel your reservations by renaissance, Teen, 5.4k 
Yuuri is a college student conducting private fencing lessons for a handsome, rich, and mysterious student. Viktor is not learning to fence because he does medieval reenactments.

Okay, this fic is SO GREAT. I loved the fencing aspect especially because my sister was an Olympic hopeful for fencing so it was fun to read my two favourite characters play the sport I have watched all my life. #writemorefencingfics2k17 ;)

Blackbird by sixpences, Mature, 102k ***Graphic depictions of violence
The year is 1942, and Europe is at war. Captain Victor Nikiforov, an intelligence operative for the NKVD, has been trapped in Berlin by the German invasion of the USSR. Posing as a Nazi industrialist, his days are spent charming information out of Axis diplomats to try and keep the Red Army fighting another day.Yuuri Katsuki, a foreign-educated bureaucrat in the Japanese Embassy, has secrets of his own concealed beneath his unremarkable demeanour. When he uncovers Victor’s real identity, it will alter the course of both of their lives forever.

MUST. READ. One of the best fics I’ve read in this fandom. Incredible writing that engages you right from the start and a storyline that will have you laughing, crying, and biting your nails. Some parts were so intense that I gasped out loud, and other parts so heart-clenching that I may or may not have bawled my eyes out multiple times on the plane. Incredible fic!

The Unknown Unknown by opalish, Teen, 7.4k
Yuuri never meant to become a supervillain. These things just happen to him.

I absolutely ADORE this writer’s style. Such a fun and easy read. Check it out!

Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy by DiAnna44, Explicit, 1.7k
When Victor receives a cowboy hat from a fan, Yuuri may or may not want to devastate him.

Please send all my love to @literallynothingbutvictuuri​ for writing this fic. #blessed 

Between Periods by caitwritesstuff, Mature, 18k (WIP)
Yuuri is a history teacher out of a job due to recent cut backs. It just so happens that Phichit works at a school that’s needs a new history teacher. In walks Victor Nikiforov, the undeniably beautiful yet eccentric literature teacher from across the hall with a bit of an obsession with Russian lit and a certain adorable history teacher.

Great teacher AU that I can’t get enough of! Victor is so cute in this and I love how the whole gang’s there. Can’t wait until the next chapter!

Of Bright Stars and Burning Hearts by Reiya, Explicit, 130k (WIP)
Viktor doesn’t remember the first time he met Yuuri Katsuki. This however, is what Viktor does remember…

I can’t rave enough about the rivals series. (I’m not kidding. Search up “umfb&mha” and “obs&bs” on my blog to find hundreds of posts of me screaming LOL) Every update of this kills me in the best way possible!

Nuclear Hearts Club by butterbeerbitch, Teen, 28k (WIP)
Being seventeen and chronically confused isn’t always a walk in the park - especially when you’ve been crushing on your brother’s best friend since you were nine. You’d be crazy not to. Victor’s the best thing to happen to the world since sliced bread.

Wow, wow, and wow is all I have to say about this fic. Such an incredible story and descriptive writing that kept me so engrossed I didn’t even notice the turbulence on my plane flight!

Six Hours Ahead by alipiee, Teen, 51k (WIP)
When Yuuri downloaded the harmless quiz app, he didn’t expect to become best friends with the Russian boy who asked him for a rematch.

I FINALLY got around to reading this and it’s definitely lived up to the hype! Such a great read. Check it out!

And the Stars Will Wait by lily_winterwood, Explicit, 19k
Of all the places he had hoped to take Yuuri during their honeymoon — their first trip together as a married couple — he hadn’t anticipated bringing him back to the family dacha and all the memories it evoked.

More BTDS-verse amazingness!! I’m a sucker for honeymoon fics!

(˃̶͈̀_˂̶͈́)੭ꠥ⁾⁾( ノ_ಠ)₍₍ (̨̡ ‾᷄♡‾᷅ )̧̢ ₎₎

Be sure to give the authors some love! Thank you all for being so patient while I was away. Regular lists are back for the rest of the summer! 

Voltron Noragami/Noragami Aragoto AU HCs!

Allura as a goddess. Probably like the god of war like Bishamon from Noragami. (Since she can kick ass in her sleep in canon). She has 6 Regalias (Shinki) with her that she had collected and who had overtime, grown on her. Over time, they have bonded through countless battles and have become an unbreakable team, family.


  • Shiro is Allura’s first regalia. She found him when she was a relatively new god who wandered the world looking to start her path and create a name for herself.
  • His first form was a chipped wooden ring that Allura wears on her right hand. He packs a real punch when Allura uses him.
  • Over many years, the two of them become closer and they become an efficient duo. 
  • During one of the fights with Allura’s enemy, a god of calamity named Lotor, Shiro risks his life and his name to protect Allura and he evolves into a Blessed Regalia. From a wooden ring, Shiro becomes a polished obsidian ring with a beautiful cut violet stone. When activated, Shiro shifts and covers Allura’s right arm with a metal gauntlet that Allura can use the same way Shiro uses his arm in canon VLD. 
  • As Allura took in more regalia spirits, Shiro takes a stand as everyone’s commander. 
  • They’re like parents!!! They get stern and tired when the younger regalia (except Coran) fight and bicker. But the shrine they live in becomes rowdy with life and laughter. 
  • They develop feelings for each other even if it’s lowkey (Like Visha and Kazuma)  When there are other people around, they act professional but when it’s just the two of them, Shiro cares for Allura and does little things like make her tea or give her a back rub after a long day of fighting phantoms. He combs her her while he sits by the hot spring while Allura bathes. Shiro is like a doting husband who takes care of his overly stressed wife. Allura cares abotu Shiro very much as well and he often comes to him whenever there’s something bothering her. If there’s someone she trust to open up her heart to, it’s Shiro.
  • Yes, they kiss each other good night, good morning, after battle, or at random times of the day. Of course, when no one is around to see but it’s just SOOOOOO obvious. 


  • Coran is the second regalia Allura takes in. They met when she and Shiro got in a misty forest. 
  • He helps Shiro and Allura find their way out but as they start to part ways, Coran admits that he doesn’t enjoy wandering aimlessly in the forest. So, Allura takes him in.
  • Coran’s regalia form is a cane sword. However, by nature, he doesn’t like to fight if not needed. He enjoys keeping the shrine in tip top shape. Cleaning and making sure things are in order. He makes the meals and he transforms the ten thousand year old rundown shrine into a beautiful place that attracts tourists and people to pray to Allura. 
  • As more regalia joined Allura, Coran is genuinely happy that the shrine became filled with laughter. 
  • When Shiro is too busy with his duties, Coran’s usually the one who break up Keith and Lance when those two get on each other’s throats. 
  • He is very observant! When he first met Allura and Shiro, he immidately knew that the goddess and her ragalia had a special bond. Even if Keith and Lance bicker a lot, Coran knows all about the pining. 
  • When Allura goes out to battle phantoms with her regalia, Coran always makes sure that they all come home to a nice home cooked feast. 
  • He’s so precious. Protect him at all cost. 


  • Lance is the third regalia Allura takes in. Allura finds him sitting by a river one winter in his white spirit’s robe, looking utterly lost and confused. 
  • Out of all of her regalia, it was Lance who brought Allura to tears when the memories of how he lived and died flashed before Allura’s eyes when she claimed him as he own. (LAAAANGST) Of course, by the rules, Allura can’t tell anyone about it. 
  • Lance’s regalia form is a pistol (A .50 Desert Eagle, to be specific) 
  • His aim is so good that he’s dubbed as The Sharpshooter. That skill is amplified a hundred times with Pidge’s calculations guidance. 
  • Lance fights with Keith A LOT.
  • He also pines for Keith… A FUCKING LOT.
  • But in the heat of battle, Allura can count on Lance and Keith to be a flawless duo and they never let her down. Those two can hack and shoot through anything and they help make Allura even more lethal as a goddess of war.
  • LOTOR TRIED TO PIRATE LANCE ONCE. (hooolyyy shiiiit) It was during a low point in Lance’s life when he started to doubt himself and his abilities. The doubts and the distrust also taints Allura, blotching her right leg with bruises. 
  • Lance got in pretty deep in the rot and they had to use that painful cleansing ritual. Shiro, Coran, and Keith performed the ceremony. It was pretty painful to watch (especially for a certain mullet-haired regalia) but it had to be done.
  • Lance is always the one making jokes during a stressful situation in order to ease the tension and lighten the mood for his goddess and fellow regalia. But when shit hits the fan, Lance also means business. 


  • Hunk is the fourth regalia Allura took in. She actually found him while she was on her day off and grocery shopping with Shiro and Lance. Hunk was sitting in an alley with his knees hugged to his chest and he looked incredibly terrified. 
  • Hunk is a gladiator armor type regalia. Lightweight and easy to move in but boooy he provides Allura with amazing (and fashionable) protection.
  • His episode reveals that he’s being chased by phantoms so he’s pretty shaken. He’s been hiding in alleys and scavenges dumpsters. 
  • Allura fights off the phantoms with Lance and Shiro then she takes Hunk in to her care. 
  • Hunk and Lance become best friends and they’re always chilling in the shrine after Coran makes them do their chores. 
  • He’s also an amazing cook! He and Coran often bonds in the kitchen and the team’s meals became 74539% better after Hunk joined the family. 
  • He’s a gentle sunshine child. Pure and too good for this world. 


  • Keith is the fifth regalia Allura took in. It was actually a last minute decision for Allura. She went off on her own (despite Shiro’s protests) to ‘run an errand.’ Since Shiro was occupied with some duties as her Divine Vessel, Allura went off with Hunk and Lance. 
  • Keith is a blade type regalia. A black bladed katana with a red slit that ran the length of the blade. 
  • Lance and Hunk are good but the phantom Allura fought was too fast for bullets. In the heat of the battle, Allura spotted a floating tongue of flame flickering in the darkness and knew that it was a spirit. 
  • Lance was like, “My lady, what are you doing? Are you even sure?” and Allura’s like: “We don’t have a choice right now, Lance!” then Allura takes Keith. (This scenario is similar to how Yato named Yukine.)
  • Keith is pretty hot headed and he can get quite crass sometimes but on the inside, he’s actually a tender cinnamon roll. 
  • He and Lance always butt heads, pretty much every goddamned minute when Keith was new. But over the course of time, the two started to bond more and they make a great team (range/close combat combo).
  • When Lance underwent the purification process, Keith was one of the three that participated and it hurt him so much to see Lance in pain like that. 
  • After Lance is cleansed and he falls it was Keith who caught him and cradles him in his arms. 
  • Not that he would admit it. But he’s a pining dork, according to Pidge. 
  • Keith usually trains with Shiro to hone his skills and the two become like brothers but Keith still respects him as his superior. 
  • When he’s not training, he usually takes quiet walks around the shrine and read the wishes that the patrons hang on the posts. On rare occasions that the wish plaque had the handwriting of a child and the wish was simple (ie. finding a lost cat) Keith asks permission from Allura to go out and ‘grant’ the wish. This also boosts Allura’s credibility towards shrine patrons too. 
  • Keith’s wish-granting-mission partner is Pidge. They’re such bros. 


  • Pidge is the latest addition to the team and the one who is the youngest. Actually, it was Lance and Keith who found her wandering around when Shiro sent them out for an errand. There was a storm that day. Lance and Keith were fighting in a train station platform because they got off the wrong stop and they blamed the other.
  • Believe it or not, Pidge’s regalia form is actually a headband. (The same one she wore as Katie Holt in the canon VLD). But besides being a fashion accessory, Pidge actually extends to a glass scope over Allura’s left eye. (Her abilities are very much similar to Kazuma’s in Noragami.)
  • “Shut the fuck up, you two are making a ruckus. You should just kiss and go on your way.”
  • Klance: “!!!!?????!??!?!” *intense tsundere blushing* 
  • However, there was a phantom in the train station and the three of them have to fight their way through and get away. Lance and Keith can’t just leave this smol sassy salty girl on her own and it was obvious that she was just like them so they bring her home to the shrine. 
  • At first, Pidge didn’t want to because she didn’t want to be a burden, but Allura has a kind heart so… yeah. 
  • Lance’s memories and the way he died might have brought tears to Allura’s eyes because of how sad it is. But Pidge’s story actually leaves Allura frozen in shock and horror because of how traumatic it was. 
  • She does all the tech stuff that aide Allura in her hunts for phantoms. Maps, calculations, aura readings, google,… Just leave it to Pidge.
  • Pidge is the one who guides Shiro, Lance, and Keith during offense for a more exact hit on the target. 
  • Pidge is a sass master and she’s comes up with unbelievable conspiracy theories. She’s hella intelligent and is often the one who comes up with plans. 

So, there you go! I don’t think I’m dedicated enough to write this and I have a ton of project on my plate already. But if you’d like to use these for a fic, just let me know and please give credit! I’d love to read it! 

I Think I Wanna Marry You...(Part 3)

Pairing: Dean X Reader.

Warnings: fluff, mild angst, Dean being a jealous bb

S/P/N- Sister’s Preferred Name.

Word count: 5k O_O

Summary: Dean, trying to get accustomed to Y/N’s family and her life in Boston, finds himself worrying about their very own lives together and what the future holds. Will he manage to find a permanent position in her life, or is it all just a role he must play for these two weeks?

Part 1

Part 2

A/N: I’ve been writing this over a span of two weeks and had initially planned to divide it into two or three parts, but decided against it. I hope you like this.

Tagging: @sassyspn67 , @awkward–jay , @daesunglg​ ,  @hayleynightcore


Dean prays his nervousness doesn’t show in the weak smile he offers the table of gleaming faces. They all stand as the three of them approach, all with welcoming smiles, all eyes trained on Y/N as she walks to them like a prodigal daughter returning home after so long.

S/P/N goes in for an immediate hug once she’s close enough and engulfs her little sister, squeezing the life out of her. He tries not to chuckle at the way Y/N groans—countless stories about their childhood together, about how close they were and unbreakable bonds and up until today Dean has never once met S/P/N, but he can’t help but find the way she treats her sister amusing.

The grin on her face is wide as she pulls away. “Look at you!” She says, eyes raking up and down Y/N’s face. “You’re so different now, oh my God!”

“Please don’t start with me, we only just got here.” The y/h/c-haired girl replies as she straightens out the creases in her skirt. Before she can even get another word out, her mother is at her side, an ambient smile gracing her face.

“Well, S/P/N’s not wrong.” Her voice is a deep baritone, husky and rich as she gives her daughter a kiss on the cheek then turns to the boys. And that’s when the anxiety comes flooding back.

A queasiness in his stomach, a twitch in his jaw—something basic and miniscule like breathing or blinking, something he does unconsciously, suddenly feels mechanical. Forced. But the elder Winchester masks it with an amiable smile, the corner’s of his eyes scrunching up. Y/N’s mother’s eyes then travel to his own and her face lights up. “Dean…”

“Marilyn…” He smiles.

They hug like their old friends, like this isn’t their third (fourth?) time meeting; that’s the kind of person Y/N’s mom is. Everyone is her friend. Everyone is adored company rather than a burden, and Dean can’t help but feel a bit intimidated by this level of kindness because God, could he pick a leaf.

Her face folds like dough when she simpers. “looking dapper as ever. Sam, don’t think I’ve forgotten you.”

S/P/N cuts in, earning the elder Winchester’s attention. “So you’re the esteemed-Dean, huh?” She asks, brown eyes scrutinizing him; despite being her blood, she looks nothing like Y/N. A few join similarities here courtesy of genetics and maybe some shared habits, but Dean knows Y/N enough that he’d be able to distinguish her if she even had a twin.

“Wow.” S/P/N turns to Y/N with a ribbing smile. “You really know how to pick ‘em.”

“Shut up.” Y/N rolls her eyes, but the pink-tint in her face is undeniable—so she’s nervous, too. Good. Someone has to be, he thinks. Maybe Y/N can take his place in this apprehensive state, salvage him from his feelings.

“The stories I’ve heard about you…” S/P/N says fondly. “Welcome. It’s great to finally meet you.”

“Yeah, likewise. Your sister goes on and on about you.”


Dean’s expression then shows hwo taken abck he is at that very moment: his eyes widen a smidge and his brows quirk. Turning to Y/N, he asks, “Does she now?”

The young hunter’s face is a deep red as she shoots her sister a dangerous look, jaw clenched. “Really?”


Rolling her eyes, she then links her arm with his. “Come on, Dean. There’s still a ton of more people we have to meet.”She says  as she turns and strings him along with her. They scuttle aside, leaving Sam deeply invested in chatter with Marilyn as they venture into the crowd. Amused, the elder Winchester’s smirk doesn’t leave his face as they move.

He leans in, voice hushed. “So, you talk about me a lot, huh?”

“Shut up, Winchester.”

“That’s not a no.”

“It’s not a yes, either.”

“Sure, whatever helps you sleep at night.”

Y/N then halts to a stop and whips around to face him, face constricted with irritation. Satisfaction floods Dean at the sight; pretending they’re in a relationship doesn’t mean abandoning his liking for razzing the young-girl. If anything, he reasons, it’s a catalyst.

“Dean,…”She warns, her voice as thin as ice. “I’m warning you…I’m not one to shy away from slapping you right in front of all these people?”

“You wouldn’t do that to your boyfriend…”Smirking, he goes to wrap his arms around her waist and pulls Y/N in, tipping his head down to look at her. Her expression then falters for a moment; her face falls and the fire in her eyes fades; but its brief, almost indiscernible, because seconds later her pout resurfaces.

Their bodies are flush together, her nimble waist caged in his hands, and Dean tries so hard to ignore the way the tips of his fingers heat up at the contact.

Instead, he chuckles and loosens his grip. Y/N manages to slip out as she rolls her eyes—even then, her blush is still evident.

“Come on…”She links Dean’s hand in hers, and leads him over to another table crowded with some cousins and aunts. The garden is dotted with various people, all smiling when they see her, all going in for hugs and pecks on the cheeks and all giving such sly smiles when Y/N says that Dean and her are dating. Some congratulate them, some, whom Dean has had the pleasure of meeting before like Y/N’s cousin Garth, hold a teasing glint in their eyes.

They talk to relatives and uncles and eerie aunts who, right in front of Y/N, try to hit on Dean. The garden is buzzing with life from all ends, music floating amongst chatter of guests, people dancing,  and as she talks more and more with old friends and relatives, he can see the young girl gradually unwinding.

Her smile, ever-present and as radiant as star, grows with each second, with each interaction. She’s mirthful. Happy. If that’s the case, Dean wonders, then why was she so reluctant about driving out to Boston? Why had Y/N shown the idea of coming out here such disdain?  The question swims in his mind, but that’s as far as it goes. Dean doesn’t bother asking. That’s not his focus now—his focus now is playing his part and helping her get through these two weeks without any setbacks, and so he allows himself the luxury of sitting back and indulging in the buffet with Y/N. Their earlier hunger returns with a vengeance once they spot the table lined with various foods.

They’re stacking piles of pastries onto their plates, when all of a sudden comes a voice.

“How did you two meet?” Uncle Gary, a burly bull trapped in a man’s body, inquires. He’s got hair as grey as the ash on his cigar, and each time he speaks, the thick mustache atop his lip wiggles like a caterpillar. His wife, Steph, stands by his side, eagerly staring and waiting for a response.

“Uhm..”Dean’s gaze slides to Y/N. She looks back at him, a brief horror flashing on her face. For a few seconds, they panic. Shit.“We met…”

“In the park!”

The elder Winchester, shocked, glances over at his girlfriend. She’s smiling at her uncle, her cool demeanor seamlessly in place. If you look hard enough, you can see the glint of pride in her eyes from just saving their asses.

Uncle Gary’s thick grey brows quirk curiously. “In the park?”

“Yeah…” Y/N affirms. “Well, by the park. I was, uh, walking my dog one morning when all of a sudden this car comes speeding out of nowhere as we’re crossing.” She casts cursory glance at Dean, who tries not to smile, both in appreciation and subtle arrogance.

“Yeah.” He supplements, earning the attention momentarily. It’s kind of funny how synchronal they are—a close call like that, teetering along the line between exposing themselves, but Y/N manages to redeem them, and Dean, like a dancer moving to the tune of her symphony, follows without a beat.

“See, I was on my way to work that morning. I was late, so you can imagine what a rush I was in, right? So there I am, cursing to myself as I speed down the road, one hand on the wheel and the other on my tie, when this fuzzy little poodle—“

“Jack Russell.” She corrects. “ He was a jack Russell.”

Dean raises his finger in benediction.  “Right, Jack Russell. So—all of a sudden, he jumps out onto the road and I’m in shock. “

“Luckily, with quick reflexes like Dean’s, he managed to swerve out of the way. He misses him. ” The young girl plays the role so earnestly, her furrowed brow and weary eyes expression selling her distress. “God, poor Kujo was shaking like a leaf. “

“So, Y/N, pissed as hell, tries waving me down. She’s running after my car until I finally pull over and she comes up to my window, and just starts exploding.” Dean’s eyes widen for emphasis, his hands waving in the air. It’s a known trait of his. Whenever telling story, to try and spice thing up or make them seem much more exciting than they actually are, the elder Winchester will flail around and pull faces, and Y/N won’t admit it, but she find it absolutely adorable.

“She’s going on about calling the cops and road rules and safety, but at that moment all I’m focusing on is how goddamn y/e/c her eyes are.” He explains. He doesn’t notice that, as soon as the words leave him, the young girl’s face flushes red. He goes on, says something more, something that makes Aunt Steph’s face fold and crease like cookie dough as she smiles, and then finishes off with a firm arm around her shoulder.

He gives it a firm squeeze, his eyes crinkled with a smile. “Long story short: I didn’t even show up for work in the end.”

“Wow.” Aunt Steph’s grey eyes go wide like planets. “Unconventional grounds indeed.”

“That story was a rollercoaster from start to finish! Loved it!” Uncle Gary, smile engulfing his face, slaps a friendly hand onto Dean’s shoulder who glances at Y/N.

The pair shares a confided glance, their pride shining in the way they smirk at each other. They’ve pulled it off.  

The elder Winchester offers a proud smile, fighting the urge to turn to his partner, to pull his lips back in a teasing smirk, for the smugness in his eyes to say I told you so, I told you the doggie hit-and-run would sell. Instead, however, he focuses on Uncle Gary telling him about his very own Terrier that nearly got hit by cyclist as she and her aunt wander off to the sidelines.

“Well, well, well…” Someone says from behind them.  Dean instinctively turns; his eyes meet with a pair of deep blue ones staring intently at him, at Y/N, a lopsided grin set onto the stranger’s face. His hair, a deep onyx, cascades down his neck to his shoulders. He’s dressed in a suit, very official, very formal, and it makes the elder Winchester’s stomach turn for a moment.

“Look who it is.” The stranger says.

Dean furrows his brow. “Excuse me?”


His head snaps in the Y/N’s direction, and his confusions swells even more when he sees the wide grin lacing the young girl’s face.

Her eyes trained on the stranger, she shakes her head slowly. “Oh my God.”

“Missed me?” The stranger smirks at her, then goes in for a hug.

Dean steps aside and out of the way, trying not to bump into the table and almost topples over a tray of croissants. He watches, bewildered, as the two exchange pleasantries. Y/N’s arms are slung around his neck, as she giggles then pulls away.

“Very much.” She smiles at him. “Wow. It’s been so long.”

“Hasn’t it?”


The elder Winchester, attention grasped, looks to her. She points at the blue-eyed man. “This is Rick—Rick Montoijia! He was my neighbor when I still lived my parents from, like, two houses down. Uhm, rick, this is my boyfriend, Dean.”

“Heya.” Rick stretches his hand out for a shake. Hesitating, Dean eyes it momentarily and then finally accepts the gesture.

“Hi….” His eyes scan the stranger’s face dubiously, his grip firm, trying to assert dominance. And all of a sudden, something has brewed in his chest.

Something hot and vehement in the space below his ribs; an energy, a sense of intimidation. It’s stupid to feel, yes, but Dean can’t help it—his chest floods with a jealousy as he lets go of the other man’s hand.

With an excited smile, Y/N addresses Rick. “What are you doing here? We—I haven’t seen you in ages.”

“S/P/N’s wedding.” He points to Y/N’s sisters standing a few meters away. “Obviously I knew you’d be in town for that. I figured,’ well, when was the last time I saw Y/N L/N?’ and here I am.”

“Here you are.” Dean cuts in.

All eyes shift to him. Y/N peers over Rick’s shoulder, trying to get a better glimpse, and the green-eyed hunter offers a strained smile; one far from genuine, something the young girl is obviously familiar with, because her smile begins to melt away at the sight. Dean doesn’t care. His gaze then shifts to Rick, whose smile is still smeared across his chiseled face.

“Uhm, yeah…”The dark-haired man laughs nervously. “Here I am. So…”His attention averts onto Y/N. “How long are you gonna be in town? We need to catch up.”

“Definitely. I’m here for—“

“We’re here—“

“—for two weeks. Yeah, we’re here for two weeks.” Y/N finishes, voice holding a dangerous edge to it. Dean chooses to ignore it, instead focusing on the way the dark-haired stranger’s face lights up with mirth.

“Wow. That’s great.”

“It really is, Rick. Anyhow, it was great meeting you, but we have to go.”


Dean doesn’t give her a chance to object as his hand goes to Y/N’s waist, and he nudges her forward, quickly trying to get away as fast as possible. Luckily, they succeed; standing behind them, Rick offers a weak, awkward goodbye as they move further away. In his chest, dean’s heart thrums rapidly, incessantly.

His jealousy boils like a hot stew, threatening to spill over, and he suffocates it; he’s being irrational. He’s being stupid. That guy is just one of Y/N’s many friends, he reasons. He’s just another familiar face from Boston, a ghost from her past, nothing too serious…

But the call to worry is stronger than reprimand for Dean.

When she notices his stiffness, Y/N turns to look at the elder Winchester. Concern swims in her y/e/c eyes. “You okay?”

Attention grasped, Dean turns to her, finds her imploring eyes set on him. They’re back inside, sitting with Sam and the bride and groom, and the band is playing some variation of Eric Clapton’s Wonderful Tonight.

Trying to stifle his feelings, the elder Winchester regains composure, offering a tight-smile. “Oh, yeah.”

“Sure? You seem…absent. Like something’s bothering you.”

“No, nothing’s wrong.” He lets out a sigh. He tries to steady the quaking in his core, letting his gaze drift across the room. Y/N scoots closer in and rests her head on his shoulder. Her hair tickles his jaw.

“If you say so…”She says with sigh, her breath fanning against his skin. Her body is warm against his, like a tepid lava flowing down his skin, soothing, therapeutic almost.

“Good job back there with nearly killing my dog, by the way. Put on quite the show.”

The elder Winchester laughs. It’s soft and feint but she can feel it in the rumble of his body beneath her head.

“Yeah, well, what can I say—I’m a sucker for theatre.”

“Are you now?”

“Oh yeah, massive fan. Plus, anything to get my story told.” Dean senses it hanging in the air like a string suspended between them, a silent question. It’s quiet for moment.  He then tips his head to glimpse down at her, a smile playing at his lips.

“Say it.”

“I don’t want to.”

“You have to.”

Y/N bites her smile back, a row of her chalky white teeth contrasting the burgundy on her lips, then lets it all bubble out. “Fine! You were right. Your good looks and charm won me over—there, are you happy?”

Dean doesn’t bother to try and mask his smile. “Extremely.”

“What’re you guys talking about?”

His head turns; S/P/N waddles over and pulls out a chair a few seats away, smiling as she sits down. She folds the pleats in her burgundy skirt over.

“Stuff.” Replies Y/N, head still draped against Dean’s shoulder.

“What kinda stuff?”

“Couple stuff. Dean and Y/N stuff. You wouldn’t understand.” She smirks; then Dean pokes her side and she lets out a giggle; it’s a sweet, quiet sound, like the hum of a bird or the wind wisping through the trees, and it makes the pit in the elder Winchester’s stomach from earlier yawn open.

As Y/N speaks with her sister, the elder Winchester feels a flood of melancholy coming on. He can always tell when it’s happening; it’s like watching everything around you happening at a normal pace when all of a sudden things are slowed down, sluggish, delayed. That’s what Dean feels like right now. He loathes it.

The evening is electric and dressed in a celebratory energy. More guests have arrived for the dinner, all pouring in in massive crowds and gaudy sartorial dresses. Dean has to stand when he greets them all, offering an amiable smile, the occasional hug and peck as they all fawn—oh my God, the Dean? Y/N’s Dean?

It gets annoying having to hear everybody so jubilant over meeting him, at a point. They’re excited to be meeting their sister’s boyfriend, their niece’s lover, the man whom she, too, shall bring back here to Boston in a few years to wed. To them, Dean assumes, meeting him is a gateway to another one of this sartorial dinners just a few years ahead.

To him, it’s plain insulting.

Why did he even agree to this? Playing pretend had seemed less tedious in his mind. Doing it now, the elder Winchester is wrought with negative emotions; with jealousies and blind resentments and a bitterness because he shall have anything but this future with Y/N, and God, is he pissed.

“Dean,” She says, pulling him from his reverie. Aunt Steph and good ol’ Gary sit across from them, sipping on some champagne and laughing with Y/N’s parents, and to their left is S/P/N and Japheth. Everyone is laughing and chatting and the air reeks of jubilance, except for the corner where a heavy grey cloud hangs over Dean’s head.

Y/N’s hand is on his as he turns to her, her y/e/c eyes trained intently on his. “What’s wrong?” She pries. He has to say something. Lying would only act as a catalyst for his negative emotions (lying to Y/N, at least). So, instead, Dean heaves a heavy breaths and gathers the feelings in his chest into a single nest.

“Nothing’s wrong.” He says. “I’m just trying to let this all sink in. Your family. It’s pretty overwhelming meeting all the people in your life who mean the world to you.”

“I’m sorry if this isn’t how you planned to spend the next two weeks, Dean.” Y/N’s gaze falters, moving to their hands loosely draped over each other.  

Dean’s eyes follow. He shrugs and, taking her hand in his, slowly links them together absentmindedly. Their fingers fit perfectly, like a key slipping into a lock, like a tight knot, and he tries to ignore it.

“Don’t be, Y/N.” He replies. “Besides—I’m the one who offered this in the first place. I don’t really have the luxury of complaining.”

“Should I give it to you?”

“Keep it.”


When Dean finally looks up, he finds Y/N’s eyes trained on him, her lips pulled back in pleasant smile. In the background, the music slows to a stop as it shifts to the next song. More upbeat, more jazzy and fun. The room’s chatter provides the perfect undertone, but Dean ignores it—all of it, because all he can focus on right now is Y/N.

His Y/N. For tonight, for two weeks.


He’ll take what he can get, even if it’s having the honor of playing her boyfriend for a period of time and then going back to being just her best-friend; to being her Dean and not her Dean.  Going back to a life where she sees their relationship, although intense, as nothing more than a deep friendship.

It’s only been a few hours, but it’s crazy how much can be revealed to you in such a span of time. Dean sees it now—sees Y/N and, even if he didn’t think it possible, even more of her than he already has. He sees Y/N in her element, with her family, with her friends and with a sense of mirth radiating off her…And as great as it is, all it does for him is nudge at the thought that he shall never be part of that.

They mean a lot to each other, he knows that much, but today has made him wonder if he will ever be part of Y/N’s suburban life, whether he’ll breach past their life spent in the bunker and in pages of lore and into that which holds this very idyllic essence.

The thought, daunting and unfortunately saddening, hits the elder Winchester like a ton of bricks. He immediately turns away. He rests his focus on something—anything—that isn’t Y/N smiling at him and causing an uproar in the space behind his heart.

The night simmers on, laced with laughter and chatter and smiles too bright for Dean to bare. He only watches from the sidelines, an observer, a spectator…Y/N is the center of the orbit that is the eclectic crowd. She smiles and the entire room responds with an abundance of simpers; her laugh is a mellifluous symphony overpowering the music, her eyes glint like the stars in the sky and she throws her head back and captivates the attention of everyone in the room. She reels them all in like a magnet, like she’s magic…

And to Dean she is…

She always has been and always will be. She is ethereal and glimmering and inside her is a flame and a tornado and such vehemence that would tear a mere mortal apart, but doesn’t even scratch her skin the slightest.

Y/N is magic and she will always be magic, and Dean knows this. He wishes he didn’t, but he does, and it hurts…Because the hollowness in his chest that comes from watching her so radiant makes him wonder why he said yes to the torture of being just another planet in her orbit in the first place…


The list is exceedingly long, but what stands out predominantly on the account of things they were meant to discuss before they left home (but didn’t), is the sleeping arrangement.

Standing in their hotel bedroom, the elder Winchester stares at the single bed, at the six fat pillows nested at the head and the vast comforter definitely two huge for two. It’s a lover’s suit; of course the hotel would be expecting customer’s to be doing anything but sleeping in these sheets, but Dean’s case is the exception.

Y/N is in the bathroom getting ready for bed. The sound of the shower running echoes throughout the otherwise silent room and the elder Winchester feels a small welt of nervousness claw at his belly. They’ve shared beds before. This shouldn’t be a big deal…


God, he’s acting like a teenage boy with this. It’s not that hard, Dean tells himself. They can even divide it into two regions if they want, Y/N’s, and then the extremely comfy one with the extra pillow for him. They can sort this out. It doesn’t have to be awkward, eh tries to reason, but something tugs at his gut and tells him otherwise, because Dean feels all sorts of anxious.

Maybe it’s the thought of lying to sleep with her after the mortal sin they’ve just committed throughout the day: fraud. Artifice. Maybe, Dean thinks, it’s the fact that they’ll have to pretend to be together even as they lay to sleep that terrifies him maybe it’s the lover’s suit. He and Y/N are anything but. All the times they’ve slept in the same bed in the past, it’s been in dingy, itchy, sketchy motels, not five stars hotels that probably provide complimentary condoms.

He lifts the thick blanket on the bed and crawls under it, trying to get comfortable. The bed is cloud, embracing him, engulfing him into its form like it’s an amoeba and him its prey. God, this is comfy. Dean’s eyes flutter and he tips his head back in subtle ecstasy.

Right at that moment, the door to the bathroom swings open.

Y/N stomps out in pajama shorts and a towel clasped tightly to her chest, eyes wide as she glimpses around the room. Opening his eyes, Dean then ctaches her gaze.

“Sorry.” She apologizes and points to her beg at the foot of the bed. “I just need my shirt from my suitcase. Don’t look!”

“No promises.” But he doesn’t, instead covering his eyes with one hand. He hears the patter of feet and the rustling of clothes as Y/N retrieves the garment, then rushes back into the bathroom. When she returns, a moment later, this time she’s fully clothed.

“The pressure here is ace.” Y/N says, holding her fingers up in an appropriate gesture as she saunters towards the bed. She hauls her bag off and onto the floor, then climbs up, pushing the blanket aside.

“I can’t remember the last time I took a shower and didn’t want to get out.”

Dean lowers his hand and looks at her; hair wet and clinging to her skin, her face is bare, all the makeup from today washed away into the drain. A few pimples dot the surface of her cheeks and, although feint, there’s a single splatter of freckles just below her jaw line that Dean always finds himself admiring.

“That’s good to know. In other news: the sleeping arrangement. How’s this gonna work?”

“You mean top or bottom?”

“Grow up.”

Y/N’s grin never falters as she laughs. “I don’t really mind, Dean. If it bothers you, you could always take the floor.”

“I never said it bothers me…”

“Does it?”

Her eyes are staring intently into his and he’s trying too damn hard to not get caught up in them. He shouldn’t. the moment is far from appropriate. She’s basically telling him to get out of the bed and spend the night on the floor like a hound, and heaven be damned if Dean is going to let himself focus on anything but defending himself.

So he tips his head back slightly, locks his eyes on hers, and says, “Not at all.”

“Then goodnight, Winchester.” Y/N smiles, before turning the night-light off and wiggling further under the blanket.

Dean mirrors her. He slides beneath it, letting it came up to his chest and closes his eyes. He can feel the steady beat of his heart, the pulse of his blood. Sleep hovers over him like a phantom but never once dares to preside.

Minutes pass and he’s still awake. The elder Winchester fidgets, turning on his side, eyes meeting the bright glare of the moonlight invading the room. He checks his watch on the bedside table. Two am. Still up. His eyelids feel heavy and a yawn pries his mouth open, but Dean can’t sleep, and it’s an insomnia, the worst kind of insomnia, that he’s too familiar with.

He’s dabbled in it in the past; with the mark of cain and in purgatory. When he was demon, when Sam was soulless and when Cas was presumed dead. Dean knows this plague, greets it like an old friend, doesn’t even bother fighting it, but there’s no denying that it’s annoying. He wants rest—needs it. The last thing he needs right now is a visit from this phantom that keeps him up, staring at the blank ceiling.

A few seconds subside when silence is broken by hushed voice.

“Dean ar—you’re awake?” Y/N rolls over, her droopy eyes meeting his.

The elder Winchester nods silently. His eyes burn.

“How come?”

“I don’t know.”

“What do you mean you don’t know? You don’t know why you can’t sleep?”

“That’s what I just said.”

The sheets shift. Y/N props herself up on her elbow, looking at him, her eyes still swimming with sleep. He wonders what woke her, but remains silent as he turns to meet her gaze.

Y/N’s eyes are somber and intently set on him; there’s a weight on her heart for a moment, something that visibly bring out the worry in her gaze. “Nightmares?”

She’s been with him through all of them; all those times mentioned, all those calamites in his life, Y/N has walked through them with Dean. Consequently, she can tell when something’s up. It’s comforting for Dean to know that’s she’s so in sync with him, that they’ve got this visceral connection that alerts her when something’s up, but unfortunately now it’s a bit of a false alarm.

He shakes his head. “No. Just can’t sleep.”

“Oh…” She voices simply and within a moment the solemnity fades. Then comes the sound of the sheets shifting, Y/N sitting up and she turns on the nightlight. The warm light right away glares onto the side of his face. Dean squints, lolling his head to the side.

Y/N’s hair dangles around her face as she looks at him. “Anything I can do to help? Get a glass of water, sing you a lullaby?”

“Rock me to sleep?” He supplements.

She shrugs. “Anything.”

Then, chuckling, elder Winchester turns away and allows his gaze to float back to the ceiling. y/N continues to speak in the background, going on about the day and tomorrow and how everything’s going to go down so that everything turns out as planned. She’s notified Sam already, apparently. Unlike Dean, he won’t have to do much besides be himself and distract Marilyn for the weekend…

But for Dean, Y/N proclaims, it’s going to be a long two weeks: he’s going to have to do a lot more than he’d anticipated; more work, more fraud. For the following days he must wear his disguise as though it is anything but…and the funny thing? Dean knows it’s going to be elementary…

Because they can only get so much closer.

Because they, before today, already spent nights in bed chatting about everything and anything that came to mind; because he already used to walk inches close to her and comb his fingers through her hair and laugh and feel (God, did he feel), and so maybe this is going to be a walk in the park. Maybe it will be easy, Dean thinks—until he’s reminded of earlier at dinner and the gaping hole in his chest.


Part 4

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Notes From Someone Who Grew Up With An Autistic Brother

My brother is autistic. And if you’ve never met anyone with autism , you might be misinformed about how autistic people are.

My brother is NOT:

* Stupid
* Unwilling to learn
* Misbehaved
* A ‘forever child ’

My brother is a smart MAN. He’s gonna be 22(?!?! I’m crying he’s so big now I’m so proud ?) next week on the 13th .

Anyway here’s some things I want you to know about my brother Josh , his autism , AND HOW IT DOES NOT ALL MAKE HIM A BURDEN OR A PROBLEM OR ANY LESS OF A GREAT PERSON
( if you don’t like my brother or autistic folks , fight me )


- Firstly ya gotta know autism is a spectrum and it affects everyone differently so this isn’t a go-to post for every autistic person / curious person

- Second , autism affects social skills.
People with autism are more likely to have social anxiety, have speech impediments , and tend to function poorly in crowds .

But!!! If you work really hard to become friends with someone with autism ? They’re probably gonna love you for life?

My brother is shy as hell but if you are patient and are nice to him and listen to him when he talks he’s gonna respect you so much?

People tend to interrupt my brother, he stutters a lot when he talks and repeats himself. But if you show enough respect and let him say what he needs to , he’ll like that.

And once you’re friends ? He info dumps so much on you that you forget he’s a shy mess in public .( get him going about Power Rangers and he’s absolutely adorable he gets so detailed and so pumped ! )

Honestly just be nice enough to spend quiet time getting to know what they like and what makes them comfortable and they’ll warm up to you.

I remember the first conversation I ever had with my brother was about Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.
I was like five? He was four. Until that day he didn’t really talk to me. But it was rainy that morning , mom was still asleep and dad was at work . Josh was in his room watching the show when I wandered in with my cereal bowl in hand. He glanced at me , and quietly goes “ Wanna watch ? It’s funny! There’s a real smart guy who I think you’ll like. ”

And so, I sit down and a few minutes later I’m listening to my brother gush over characters and plot and bad guys and at one point he hugged me and said “ Thanks for listenin’, mom and dad don’t”

And from that day on , I tried harder to get to know my brother. He’s a sweetheart who loves unusual trivia , mysteries, animals ( no really he’s got books on animal trivia ) and watches everything from historical documentaries to fan theories on his favorite shows.


Honestly I’ve bonded so much with him over shows and characters and I’ve learned a lot about him by watching his reactions over the years.

I have a lot of feelings about Dragon Ball Z and the Ninja Turtles because those two shows were what my brother and I first watched together , and we had such deep chats during commercials .

My brother relates to Michelangelo and Raphael the most because he says ’ I get Raph, you know? He doesn’t know how to ….how to say….how to feel out loud, right? He doesn’t know the rules to feelings. And Mikey’s lonely because he just wants people to like him for himself but it’s hard because the world sees him as wrong even though it’s not his fault and he didn’t want to be different. I feel like that because people… People look at me like they want me to be this one thing , and I can’t be , so they’re mad and disappointed. I’m not normal to them , but I…I mean ? I’m normal for me! This is my normal, and everyone is normal in a special way. “

During Dragon Ball Z, he suddenly goes :

” Do …do you think people would … You think if they could see the world the way I do….you think they’d pick having autism? I know everyone without it thinks it’s bad, but … But sometimes I like being autistic. I like the way I notice background noise , or the details on someone’s face, or all the ways something feels. I dunno I think maybe I get to know the world a lot better ? “

- Emotional difficulty.

My brother has trouble expressing and reading emotions , that’s true. But he understands them. And he taught me a lot of lessons.

My brother gets angry with himself a lot because he can’t communicate what he needs, but he tries super hard not to hurt anyone with his anger. He’ll throw a tantrum in his room , but he avoids other people until he’s calm enough not to just blindly lash out.

And when he’d bicker with my sister , and things got physical ( like siblings fights do ) he was always very careful not to hit her. Sometimes he’d lightly slap her arm or hand if she hit him , but he didn’t raise a fist to her. And he’d just let her work out her anger and then hug her when she was done.

’ I know you weren’t upset at me and it’s okay to be upset , but don’t hurt anyone when you’re upset anymore , you don’t think right when you’re mad. ’

- Hyper focusing is a thing and sometimes it’s no fun to deal with.

Tv portrays it as cute hobbies or interests but it’s also times when my brother couldn’t sleep because the number of tree branches outside his window changed. It’s my brother not being able to relax unless his collection of comfort toys are all on his bed.

It’s my brother breaking down in tears because his lucky childhood lion stuffed animal was falling apart and he was convinced he wasn’t going to have any more good days in his life.
( my grandma mended it it’s ok)

My brother binges shows all day and doesn’t remember to eat sometimes.

Hyperfocusing can be cutesy but it can also be very serious .

- Hyper Sensitivity is weird because some days ? My brother is fine and doesn’t care what he wears or what he eats. But other days he won’t wear anything too scratchy , or he won’t eat anything too crunchy , or he won’t leave the house because the wind is too much.

I’m used to it , but to my childhood neighbours my brother seems eccentric and bizarre .

- Physical Affection


I never hug my brother unless I ask him first or he initiates it. If I hugged him without permission , he’d get a panic attack and freeze up. He just doesn’t like surprise touch.

But once he lets you hug him ? It’s the best! He gives such affectionate hugs and honestly for a minute in his arms my depression is cured.

Just ask first to grab their hand or tap their shoulder or pat their head. It gives them more control over their environment and it shows you respect them.

- Don’t try to correct their stims or coping mechanisms.


My brother wrings his hands together and makes noises to relive stress or work off extra energy, and he also talks to himself.( usually an ongoing role play in his head )

A lot of autistic people do things like this. It’s called 'stimming’. I don’t understand why running his fists against his forehead eases his anxiety when he’s upset, but I don’t tell him not to do it because that’s how his brain tells him to calm down.

If you take away their stimming, you take away their normal way of dealing with stress and emotions . Let them stim , maybe try to lessen the damage if it’s a harmful stim ( biting fingers, pulling hairs, knocking head against things ) ,but let them stim!

And!!! Stims!!! CHANGE!!!!

My brother used to say things four times when he was upset because his nickname is four letters ( his full name is Joshua ) and the way he explained it was ” if I hear why I’m mad four times it gives me four chances to settle down “

He doesn’t do that anymore. Now he just repeats the words ” It’s stupid , I’m stupid for being mad “ until he calms down.

In public his stimming is different - he’ll twist a corner of his shirt in his hands or hum under his breath or nod a lot.

When he’s super anxious he paces endlessly and can’t seem to move fast enough to please himself. Sometimes he’ll just run through the house until he’s calm.

I’ve seen my own dad tell him not to pace !

It calms him down and it’s not hurting anyone let him pace jfc

-They don’t always tell you but they listen

My brother knows the rude things people say about him. He listens to people talking to try and learn how to talk better , and he hears . He hears the insults , the jokes. He knows the math teacher thinks he’s a retard. He knows the other kids make fun of his stutter. He sat in the lunchroom and listened to those around him making fun of him.

And he avoids being friends with anyone who’d mock him while he was a mere fifteen feet away.

Anyway please be kind to autistic people and their families .

But also be looking out for autistic people who don’t have good families,whose families are ashamed of their autism.

unexpectedly charming

Before Season 2 of Voltron came out, I had read an article that had mentioned there would be several bonding moments between Keith and Allura, and as a pretty invested Klance and Shallura shipper, I was skeptical. I really was. I figured if it happened, it would happen, and I would just deal with it.

The last thing I expected was to like Kallura even a little bit, let alone be completely charmed by it.

(gif credit to the marvelous @flusteredkeith!)

Not only had Keith and Allura barely interacted, I didn’t really have a grasp on Keith (there were assumptions, of course, which I used to inform the way I wrote him in fic)- so going in, I had a lot of reservations. You could even call it a low-key notp, because I didn’t want them to get together just because they had been together in the original series. It didn’t make sense to me, given the interaction they had had up to that point.

But then some of my friends started watching season 2, and when I asked two of them about shipping moments, as I am wont to do, they both mentioned Kallura…and that it was actually kind of cute. And charming. And the all in all, they didn’t hate it.

I was intrigued. So I went into watching Season 2 with an open mind, and I discovered that it really was kind of cute. And the more I thought about it, the further I fell, and I really wanted to figure out why.

So I’ve decided to do the only thing I can do when I’m overwhelmed by feelings about something: write about it.

So here goes: a little meta essay (read: roughly 4,700 words with copious screenshots and gifs inserted for visual interest) on how I fell for Kallura, and why I’m interested in its potential, and why I think it’s worth giving a shot!

Keep reading

[ShanceFluff2017] of binary stars

**For @shancefluffweek !! | Day One - Black/Blue (featuring Altean!Lance and Galra!Shiro) **

**Sequel to ‘Of Juniberries and Noon Lilies’ **

**AO3 Links: Of Juniberries and Noon Lilies / of binary stars **


Do you really want to marry me?

Like an ocean tide ebbing from the shore, Shiron is drawn from his most secret thoughts, though still somewhat clouded with the reality that the day will come that he will lose his father. It’s a loaded question, a significant query to push through the muddle, to discover if, genuinely, the first time Shiron saw Lance from the scope of his rifle, the Galran imagined bouquets of flowers and a white veil instead of assassination.

Chuckling warmly, the sound vibrating in his throat, Shiron returns a question with his own, “will the moons rise in the Altean sky?”

“Of course they would, fluffy dumbass.

Keep reading

By My Side

**Note: I was feeling emotional about SNS and also inspired to write. So I decided to experiment with 2nd person POV from Sasuke’s perspective Enjoy! :) 

He catches your eye one day. You watch as he annoys everyone around him with his boisterousness and childish pranks and antics. You think he’s an idiot.

‘I thought you weren’t worth considering at all.’

As the days pass, you realize you can’t stop watching him. Like a magnet, you’re drawn to him.

‘I couldn’t stop paying attention to you.’

Behind the pranks, behind the laughter, you see his true self. You see him hiding behind a mask of sunshine and bright smiles.  Every time you meet those impossibly blue eyes, you see a little bit of yourself them. He’s just like you. Alone. And you feel relieved because, somehow, sharing this with him, you feel like you aren’t so alone after all.

Keep reading

What Can I Do

Request:  I was thinking maybe a fic about Bucky being neglectful bc he’s obsessed with training after a near death experience with the reader on an intense mission (they aren’t dating but bffs and have hidden feelings for each other) and she tries to spar with him to snap him out of it but he goes too far and hella angst but ends in smut bc ya girl needs resolution when there’s hella angst @kaaatniss

Words: 2261

Warnings: language, unprotected sex (don’t be silly wrap your willy)

AN: Okay this was waay longer than I figured it would be butttt..Pft. Ya’ll know by now I can’t write short for shit.

Originally posted by acciowintershield

It was almost three in the morning when you woke up. The nightmares had been coming and going ever since the last mission, mostly coming. They woke you up at almost the same time every night, and almost every time you found yourself going through the same motions. You crawled out of bed and head toward Bucky’s room, stopping outside the door. You put your palm against the smooth wood and tilt your forehead against it, closing your eyes. You know he isn’t in there, but you go anyways.

Keep reading

Burn So Bright, Ch.1

Summary: Peaceful retirement is a long way off… Giotto doesn’t know how he ended up reincarnated as Harry Potter, but he will make the best of it.

It begins with warmth and light. It comes with emotions, impressions, noises. Harry sees Mama’s hair and thinks of blistering hot fire, and his chest feels warm and happy. Mama’s eyes are green, and he sees sparks and has to giggle. Papa has a loud laugh, and the rumbling when Harry is held against his chest makes him think of earth and red-brown fire, he snuggles closer and basks in the feeling. When Mama takes him out into the gardens to sit in the sun together, he feels there should be more noise. There is a little stream and pond in the garden, and Harry doesn’t question why it soothes him, or why he hears flute music in his head. Above in the sky, the clouds soar and he feels safe.

Keep reading

Arrow 5x18 “Disbanded” Review: Bonds of Brotherhood

Oh, boy. I don’t know what’s happening. But Arrow has gone three for three in its latest episodes. That may not seem like a big deal in seasons past but for season five, it’s a huge deal. Let me put it to you this way: The last hiatus we went on I was praising God and thanking Him for His mercifulness. This time around I’m cursing the sky asking why a season that feels like it finally started is taking a break after three episodes. This feels like the show I used to know, focused on the characters I love most. Tonight’s episode was essentially a love song to my Brotp: Quiggle. All the feels.

Originally posted by artlstheweapon

The episode is named “Disbanded” because Oliver has decided to shutdown Team Arrow in light of his time and “secret” confession to Adrian Chase last week. The newbies are all long, “Now what?” and Diggle once again steps up to the plate. No surprise there. Diggle is steadfast. And it was so rewarding to see David Ramsey be given a storyline with some meat on it. I know a lot of was a bit of treading old ground, but Ramsey has a way of delivering it so it didn’t feel like a scratched disc repeating. And I know a lot of it feels tired because this is like the 10282 time that Diggle has had to have these conversations with Oliver. And I do agree. Arrow really needs to retire these old story beats because they’ve been beaten to death.

I think what also helped make these scenes feel a little fresher than normal was the context. Oliver is broken down. He truly believes the worst in himself. It’s not just that he doesn’t feel like there is any goodness in him. It’s that he feels what he believed was goodness was all a lie—a mask to hide this perversion, this aberration in his soul. Oliver is wrapped in shame in this episode. Which is worse: Believing there is nothing good in your life or learning that what you thought was good was all a lie? Either way, this false confession has broken Oliver’s will. The fight has gone out of him. The fire in him dampened. All throughout his five years away, there was always a spark in him—even when he was prepared to die just to escape the insanity of it all—there was always a bit of fire in him to give him the will to carry on.

In “Disbanded,” Diggle fights hard to reignite that will in Oliver. It’s not easy. But as Diggle said, it doesn’t matter how hard Oliver makes it on him, Diggle will never ever give up on him. And that moment made all the difference in the world—just like I said it would last week. I knew it was going to come down Diggle and Felicity. It always does; as it should. They’ve been there the longest and have seen him through the worst. Diggle started it; Felicity’s role will start in a bit.

The Bromance of All Bromances

The Diggle and Oliver scenes truly stole the show. David Ramsey was MVP this week.

There was a lot riding on this episode. First, because it had to keep up the momentum from the last couple of episodes. This kind of energy has been absolutely non-existent in season five and it’s not something that Arrow can afford to lose now that it’s finally gaining traction so late in a season. Second, it had a huge burden to carry from that “revelation” of Oliver’s last week in 5x18. It couldn’t tailspin into making Oliver a serial killing sociopath and it also couldn’t pretend the moment never happened. This episode was successful at both.

In many ways, “Disbanded” was a better episode than it probably should have been. Much of it focused on things we’ve already been through before and been given answers to. Thus there really was no tension in certain parts. Nevertheless, the episode doesn’t falter for this; because this episode is character driven. Oliver leaving the team isn’t a big deal; it’s already proven that it can carry out without him—it’s done it the last two seasons. Not to mention that the team (and this season’s theme) is Oliver’s legacy. That’s the whole point—so naturally it would (and should) carry on long after Oliver (and whatever iteration of his team) is gone. If it could all cave in when he walks away (or, God forbid, dies) then it was never much of a legacy to begin with.

But Oliver has built something to last here. And that matters. Because the team is meant to do good. Thus, not everything Oliver does, or touches, turns bad.

The fact that it held up already disproved Chase’s mind game. The Team was an extension of Oliver’s crusade to save the city. If it was so morally corrupt—a ruse for a sociopath’s killing spree—it would have collapsed like a house of cards when Oliver stepped away. The Team wouldn’t have felt compelled to fight for their leader’s soul.

But Oliver couldn’t see that in this episode. He was in a dark space and he was spiraling. His deal with Anatoly and the Bratva was the last move of a man with nothing left to lose. He believes he has no soul so he’s really bartering nothing away with the Bratva; if he makes this move without the inclusion of his team than he is not risking their souls. Oliver believes he enjoys killing; so what the hell is it if he helps Anatoly steal drugs to pay for a hit on another serial killer? For where Oliver’s head is at right now, it makes perfect sense.

Originally posted by celestial-thoughts

I have to say that I simply love it when I write things up in a review and then in the very next episode Arrow proves my argument. I just love it because it means Arrow and I are on the same page. And I feel like they read my review from last week and then wrote, filmed and aired this episode. (I know it’s not really how it happened but it feels so good to once again be in sync with my show.)

Last week I said that for all Adrian Chase’s boasting he had foolishly underestimated the bonds between Oliver, Diggle and Felicity. They had Oliver say as such to Felicity when he said they needed the one thing Chase didn’t plan for—her.

They even backed me up with the Bratva flashback/present storylines. Love it!

Keep reading

Lucifer x Prophet!Reader Chapter Two

Warnings: Most likely cursing, blood and gore

Pairing: Lucifer x Reader

Fandom: Supernatural


The next day you tried to forget. You locked all your doors and windows, closed your blinds and turned off all the lights. It was hard to drink and eat. It was hard not to cry, scream, call the police. But with what you just saw, and if you were honest with the police, you’d be locked up in the loony bin.

It took you weeks to go out in public. And when you did, you regretted it. You regretted stepping outside your door and walking down the street. You regretted walking into the bookstore, because as soon as you did you noticed the windows seemed the be getting brighter.

“(Y/N), is it?” A man in a suit approached you with a nigerian accent.

You backed up slowly to the exit door. “Who are-”
“Timis.” He said and smiled. “Pleased to meet you, would you like to come with me?”

“No, I wouldn’t.” You said slowly and edged backwards to the door. “I know what you are and what you want, go away, don’t touch me.”

He chuckled at that and walked to you. “Listen sweetheart, I’m just doing my job. I don’t want to hurt you, well, I don’t not want to hurt you-”

The thought occurred to you then, and you started to pray. Castiel? Nope, no answer? Gabriel? Nope, just silence. Raphael? Silence as well. That left you with one choice. ‘Lucifer, please help me, I think I’m in trouble…’ You prayed silently and before you could finish books started falling off of the bookshelves. People gasped and then started screaming once the windows shattered. The demon looked around, unimpressed.

“Really? You think a little angel magic will scare me?” He snorted and grabbed you roughly by the arm. Suddenly his hand, still on your wrist, started slowly burning away. It didn’t hurt you but it sure as hell hurt him. He dropped to the ground, cradling his wrist, and the red glowing heat slowly spread up his arm. All inside of him was pain, his meat suit’s skin being turned inside out and his bone marrow being turned into acid. All you could do was watch as he turned into dust.

The room stopped shaking and everyone stopped screaming. They were sobbing, calling 911 and running out of the store. You just stood there for a moment, looking up at the ceiling before running out of the bookstore and back home.

It was night when you considered the thought. You couldn’t eat or sleep, you could barely drink water. For some reason you didn’t want to see Castiel. You wanted to see the archangel that was protecting you.

So you sat at your dining room table, leaving all the lights off to make it seem more welcoming. You sat in a chair, taking a deep breath and attempting to tuck your hair behind your ear. “Lucifer.” You said the word in an exhale, like you were finally admitting to yourself that he was the one watching over you. “Thank you today, for saving me. Thank you.” You said, picking at your fingers and looking at the dark surrounding you. “I’d like to meet you.” It felt like you’d just admitted a lie, anxiety building in your chest as you waited for something to happen. “I promise I won’t like, try to hurt you or anything. I… just want to meet you.”

A flicker of flame.

One of your candles on your dining room table lit up, barely illuminating the room in a soft, warm and orange glow. I felt warm, safe and euphoric. You instantly smiled and closed your eyes, the feeling in the room making your body seem to melt in sweet soft pleasure. “Lucifer?” You opened your eyes, not seeing anyone in the room with you. You got your senses back and you dropped your smile. “Are you there? Or is this someone else…” The thought made you scared, goosebumps rising on your skin and back.

The silence killed you. It was silent for minutes, but it felt like hours. You sat in the chair, waiting patiently (somewhat) for something to happen. Anything.

Then it did.

A body appeared in the chair across from you. The attractiveness of the body instantly got you alert, but it wasn’t only that. It was his presence. It was cold. So much colder than earlier. But it wasn’t an unpleasant cold, it was pure and clean, holy. He smiled softly, his blue eyes locking with yours.

“Hello, (Y/N).” He said softly, his voice smooth and comforting. It captivated you and you couldn’t help but smile back to him.

“So, you’re my…” You weren’t how to say it without offending him. “Guardian angel?”

He smiled at that, looking down at the wood table where his hands lay. He looked back up to you and shook his head slowly. “I’m not your guardian angel. There is no such thing.”

“Then-?” You were confused. Why was he protecting you?

“You are a prophet, you know that.” He started, looking you straight in the eyes. His gaze was so intense you didn’t even notice the cold bumps all over your body. “An archangel is chosen to protect that prophet from everything. Demons, angels, monsters, even other humans. That archangel was me. I’m sorry if you aren’t pleased-” He said the word like it was a burden. “With the archangel assigned to you. I have no control over it. Higher power. Either MIchael or God.”

It was a lot to take in, but you had pretty much processed most of the information earlier that month when Castiel explained it to you. “Michael? The archangel? Nevermind, dumb question. So, there’s no reason?” You asked and noticed you wanted to be closer to him, you were drawn to his presence.

“There is a reason, but I do not know it.” He said and glanced around your house. His blue eyes landed back on yours. “Humans.” He said and glanced to the poster of a t.v show on your living room wall. You blushed at that, embarrassed as hell.

“Oh, yeah, you hate humans. Forgot. Sorry you got assigned me.” You said in a low tone and pinched your hand. He probably was disgusted by you. Why shouldn’t he be, he was third in command of the entire universe and you were a mere human. A mouse compared to a lion.

He didn’t react, just kept his eyes on yours. “I do hate humans. Yes. But the bond we share, it doesn’t allow me to have negative feelings to you. In simple terms, I don’t hate you. I will protect you from any harm, and do my best to make you happy. Even though that isn’t required.”

“Isn’t required? Then why do it?” You laughed at that. This was all confusing and stupid. It made you want to cry. Normality seemed like a golden liquid now.

Lucifer just shrugged, smirking. “I like to think I’m a nice angel. And we are, somewhat… bonded.” He looked as if he was struggling for the word. He leaned back in his chair, looking around again. “Quite a nice house you got-”

“Why am I a prophet? Why me? What does ‘God’, or whatever, want from me?” You interrupted him with a shout and stood up. For a moment you forgot he was satan and just saw him as a person to vent to. He looked at you with a calm expression, letting you shout until you were done.

“To answer your first question…” He said slowly, leaning forwards so his elbows were on the table. “I don’t know. No one knows but God. To answer your second question, read back to answer one. And third, all of the above.”

You sat back down and but your head on the table, your arms cradling yourself. “Why do demons want to hurt me?”

“Demons.” Lucifer sighed, rolling his eyes. “Nasty little things. But some of them are good for following orders. Devoted to their father-” He pointed to himself. “But some are rebels, they choose to follow this new false ‘king’-” He did air quotes. “Named Crowley. He’s just a regular old demon with a few tricks up his sleeve. The demon that tried to get to you in the bookstore, that was one of Crowley’s. He wants you to decode this stupid demon tablet thing. It’s nonsense. And God decided that for some reason-” He said this angrily like he was mad at God for doing so. “I should be the one protecting you. I haven’t had a prophet to protect in billions of years.”

You kept your head down on the table and couldn’t help but sniff. You still felt like a mouse in front of a lion.

Lucifer leaned forwards on the table, looking at you. “Hey.” He said, nudging your elbow. “What’s wrong with you?”

You couldn’t help but snort. “Nothing. I want to go to bed.” It was only 12:30 pm, so he knew that was a lie. You stood up, wiping the tears out from under your eyes, and began walking to your room. You didn’t bother locking your front door, you had an archangel protecting you. You’d be fine.

Thankfully, he didn’t follow you. He just left your house, silently, disappearing like something from a movie. You laid glumly on your bed, on your side, trying to process things. Was this a good thing? No. Was it necessarily a bad thing? No. You just… wished for it to be normal again.

Things were calm for the next few weeks. No buildings crumbling around you and no random people grabbing you in the streets. You continued working in your shop, reading people’s fortunes and telling them their future.

A woman walked in, the bell above your shop door jingling. You looked up from your front table and smiled politely. Wow, she was gorgeous, the face of an angel. She long curly red hair put up into a bun. “Good evening! How may I help you?” You said cheerfully, but it was forced.

She grinned back at you. “I’d like you to tell me my future. I applied for a job at Apple, and I want to know if I’ll be accepted.”

You internally rolled your eyes. You didn’t get to pick and choose what you saw. But you smiled anyways and led her to your table alter after taking the $100 from her. You charged so much because people knew your fortunes and visions were always right.

She sat down in a chair and you sat in front of her, taking her hands into yours. They were cold. She just smiled wickedly at your surprise. You closed your eyes and cleared your mind, focusing on the feeling coming from her skin. And then the visions hit you. Blood, a head was cut off. It was stitched back on. It was her head. Then you saw the future. She was in flames, covered in flames, screaming in agony.

In shock you yanked your hands back. “Abaddon.” You whispered and stood up. A demon. You doubted she worked for Lucifer.

She shrugged. “I prefer Queen. Queen of Hell. Earth. Everything.” She stood up. “And I hear you have some tricks up your sleeve. So tell me little girl, will I get what I want? I want everything.”

You shook your head and backed up slowly, fear running through your veins. She was going to hurt you. Where was Lucifer? ‘Please Lucifer, I need you.’ You prayed as you continued to back up until your back hit a shelf, knocking a few crystals off of it. She prowled towards you, smirking. How did you think she was so pretty before? She was hideous, her face was twisted black and was covered with horns. Destruction.

“No?” She said in a fake sad tone, tilting her head and pouting her lips. “I don’t?” She asked and walked to you, her hand clasping around your throat. “I’ve had a very, very stressful day.” Her fingers tightened painfully, her red painted nails digging roughly into your skin. “And I know you have some good psychic powers. So, little girl, can you see what I’m about to do to you?” She whispered in your ear, her breath hot and painful. You closed your eyes tightly and prayed harder. Yes, you saw it. You saw your organs covering your cute little shop. Your fingers scattered around the room like eggs on easter.

You just nodded, tears leaking out of your eyes as you felt her nails break the skin on your neck. Blood trickled slowly down to your collarbone and she dipped her head, drawing out her thin tongue to taste it. She hummed in satisfaction and looked up into your eyes. “I just love taking out my anger on innocent sweethearts like you. Knowing you did nothing to deserve the pain you’re about to endure.” She hummed and threw her hand to the side. An invisible force threw you across the room. You landed on a pile of unused amythyst, the sharp pieces of crystal cutting into your back and thighs. You cried out in pain and tried your best to crawl away.

But Abaddon was having none of that. She reached her hand out and you slowly rose into the air, your feet leaving the ground. “Lucifer, please!” You screamed out as loud as you could, your voice strained and your hands at your throat. She was choking you without even touching you.

Suddenly you fell to the ground. You landed back down on your crystals, earning you more cuts and stab wounds, but it was better than hanging mid-air.

You didn’t see it happen, but you heard it. You heard the wet noise of limbs being torn apart, skin being ripped from her body, and her screams. God, they weren’t human. You put your bloodied hands over your ears and wept, begging for it to be over. You wanted to be safe at home in bed with your pets. With your kitten named Keanu, your toy chow chow named Cujo and your ball python Khal. You just wanted to be home.

And just like that it was over. You were picked up into cold arms and then you were back to your house. You heard police sirens in the distance and knew they’d be looking for you. Your life was over.

He set you down on your bed. The blood stained your sheets. You looked up at him through teary eyes, barely able to make out his figure. He put two fingers on your forehead and healed you, all of your pain gone. All of your physical pain, that is.

He kneeled beside you, pulling the hair out of your face. “I’m sorry I didn’t come earlier, I was deep in…” He trailed off and sighed. “I promise, I’ll never let anything like that happen again. I’ll stay by your side, if that makes you feel any better.” Lucifer didn’t know too many things about human emotions and all that, he was trying his best. Normally he would say, screw God and his plans. But you were tied to him and him you. Not even his hatred for his father would allow him to stand aside while you were killed.

“Yes, please.” You said in a tired voice. “And get me away from here, I don’t want the police knocking on my door asking me questions I can’t answer.” You said and he smiled softly, nodding before touching your head again.

Chrom/M!Corrin C-S Support

Written by  drizzled-wind


Corrin: Hello, Lord Chrom? May I speak with you about something?

Chrom: Of course, your highness, but you can leave out the “lord”.

Corrin: Haha, only if you drop the fancy titles as well.

Chrom: Duly noted. What did you need?

Corrin: I was wondering how it felt to lead a band of noble knights such as yours. As someone who had the responsibility thrust upon him, I just wanted a second perspective.

Chrom: Ah, yes. I enjoy being the leader of my army with my tactician at my side. I especially like having the opportunity to build bonds with my Shepherds. Those are very important to me.

Corrin: I know what you mean! Meeting all of the members of my army and having a chance to speak to them personally is truly a privilege like no other.

Chrom: Of course. Speaking of which, your presence seems familiar to me. Calming, in a way.

Corrin: W-what? Um, why?

Chrom: Just a feeling.

Corrin: (Why is he looking at me like that?!)

Chrom: Well, anyway, I think we can agree that it is a great honour to stand at the front of great armies filled with great heroes.

Corrin: We can. Thank you for this chat, Chrom. (And why is he smiling so broadly?)

Chrom: Anytime, Corrin.

[Chrom and Corrin have reached support rank C.]


Chrom: Oh, Corrin, hello again. What brings you to this corner of the battlefield?

Corrin: I noticed you took quite a hit from that lancer. Are you okay?

Chrom: Haha, don’t worry about me. I can take more than that.

Corrin: …If you say so.

Chrom: I do. Now that you’re here, would you mind helping me take care of those axemen?

Corrin: Just leave it to me!


Chrom: Whew, all done. I certainly wasn’t expecting them to cluster like that…

Corrin: Chrom, you’re favouring your shoulder. Are you sure you’re not injured?

Chrom: Don’t be silly. I’m perfectly fine.

Corrin: You don’t need to lie for anyone’s sake, you know. We are all here to help each other.

Chrom: I’m aware of that, Corrin. If I needed help I would seek it; please don’t waste too much time worrying about me. You know, you’re reminding me more and more of an old friend. May I ask-

Corrin: Um, right, right! As long as you’re not pushing yourself too hard. It would be terrible to lose a formidable commander such as yourself. (Why does he keep saying things like this?)

Chrom: Haha, no need to think so highly of me. I’m worth just the same as anyone else.

Corrin: But that doesn’t diminish the amount of that worth.

Chrom: Alright, alright, I concede!

Corrin: (There it is again! That warm look, like we’re sharing an old joke between friends.)

Chrom: Corrin?

Corrin: Y-yes?

Chrom: Nothing. It looked like you were spacing out for a second.

Corrin: (Is he seriously not realising what he’s doing?)

Chrom: There’s that funny look again. Ah, well. I’ll figure you out eventually, haha.

Corrin: *sigh*

Chrom: Well, I’ve got to get going. See you around, Corrin!

Corrin: … See you.

[Chrom and Corrin have reached support rank B.]


Chrom: Hmm, perhaps I should have heeded Corrin’s advice. This shoulder wound doesn’t look too good.

Corrin: I knew it!

Chrom: Ah! C-Corrin?!

Corrin: Your wound is infected, isn’t it?

Chrom: Wait, no! It’s not. I just strained it a bit too much. Don’t worry about it, my friend.

Corrin: (What the hell? He’s beaming at me so hard I can practically see sparkles. Does he even know he has that goofy expression on his face?)

Chrom: It’s okay, Corrin. I’ll find a healer and get it fixed up, quick as I can.

Corrin: [y/n] took all the healers out on a special quest, so that may take a while…

Chrom: Ah, well. I don’t want to burden you, so I’ll take my leave. I promise to go to [y/n] as soon as s/he gets back.

Corrin: No, no, I’ll stay with you until then. I don’t want you getting even more hurt pulling some reckless move, like smashing another hole in the wall. (Okay, I’m definitely not imagining it. There are literal sparkles surrounding him when he smiles at me.)

Chrom: Corrin? What’s wrong?

Corrin: Could you j-just… move over a bit?

Chrom: Okay?

Corrin: (Thank goodness, he’s finally out of the sun. I was going blind.)

Chrom: What was that?

Corrin: N-nothing! Nothing. Uh, Chrom, you said something about an old friend, yes?

Chrom: Oh, right. I was just saying that you have this air about you that reminds me of him.

Corrin: Is that so?

Chrom: It’s odd, but very comforting. I feel as though I could chat with you for hours.

Corrin: (I think he’s going delusional. Please hurry, [y/n]!)

Chrom: Did anyone ever tell you-

Corrin: Hey, look - there’s [y/n]! Let’s get you a healer. (… He’s staring again.)

[Chrom and Corrin have reached support rank A.]


Chrom: Corrin! I’m glad I caught you. I had something to talk to you about, actually.

Corrin: Oh? I’m all ears.

Chrom: I know I’ve bothered you incessantly about familiarity and the like, and I just wanted to apologise. I wasn’t quite thinking straight.

Corrin: It’s no trouble, Chrom. It didn’t bother me.

Chrom: I’ve been constantly comparing you to my friend back at home, and I realise that it was rather rude of me. You are your own person, and I love you for that - not for being someone else.

Corrin: E-excuse me?! Did you just say-

Chrom: No! I… didn’t say anything.

Corrin: (Did he just confess? He was mumbling so quietly I could barely hear a word. Now he’s giving me that hangdog look again.)

Chrom: Gods, I’m acting like a coward. I’ll just say it. Corrin, I’m in love with you.

Corrin: (Could it be that all this time he was giving me those weird signals because he was afraid to confess?!)

Chrom: … You don’t have to say anything. I know it’s silly. But I can’t control my what I know in my heart.

Corrin: Chrom, wait! Don’t leave.

Chrom: …

Corrin: The truth is, I’ve also felt myself inexplicably drawn to you. But I became friends with you because you’re a sincere person.

Chrom: Are you saying…?

Corrin: Yes. I… feel the same for you. (His eyes brightened with the light of ten suns. How cute…)

Chrom: I can barely believe this is truly happening! Oh! I have something for you.

Corrin: This ring is incredibly fancy… What’s this crest?

Chrom: It is the crest of the royal house of Ylisse. It was made on the day of my birth, and I was instructed to give it to the love of my life.

Corrin: Chrom, I… I don’t know what to say. This is such an honour…

Chrom: One that you well deserve.

Corrin: But what about when we have to leave this kingdom? What will happen then?

Chrom: I would follow you to the ends of the earth. My kingdom can be ruled by another, so long as I can stay with the one I love.

Corrin: (I can see the intense love in his eyes…) I… Thank you, Chrom. Thank you for everything.

Chrom: Anything for the one I love the most in any world.

[Chrom and Corrin have reached support rank S.]

Escape; pt. 3

Reader x Jungkook // (???)!AU // 3640 words

Summary: Everyone has a number over their heads that says how useful they are to society from 0-100. You have a number ‘4’. You leave the city for some peace but you meet your cocky neighbor who seems to get on your nerves.

Genre: Fluff?

Y/L/N refers to your last name/family name

A/N: Friends, I’ve been battling jet lag and wrote this at like 4 am. Took a nap and looked through for typos but idk my brain just idk. Hope y’all like this aha. 

Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 4 // Part 5 // Part 6


Initially, he didn’t really like that Jungkook was the one that brought you to the gala and he certainly wasn’t happy with the fact that the both of you seemed to be quite close but now it was a different story. Perhaps baby Jeon will finally be useful for once.

The gala comes to an end and everyone clears the hall. You move quickly towards the exit, hoping that you will be able to avoid your family. Please don’t see me. Please don’t see me.

“Ms. Y/N, Y/L/N, please make your way towards the photo corner! It’s the first time in a long time that your whole family has been here together so we need a photo to commemorate the occasion.”

You shut your eyes and tilt your head back in frustration. You’ve been spotted. You gulp nervously as you look at the overly-excited woman in front of you. You try to step out of the way to move towards the exit but she only moves to block you.

“Uhh, I d-don’t think they— “

“Y/N, quit stalling and come here now, “ Your father says rather sternly from across the room.

You bow apologetically and stand next to your brother who has been throwing mean looks at you throughout the whole night. You can’t help but feel out of place as you stand there plastering on a fake smile. You know the moment that the photo taking session is over, you were in for a whole lot of shouting from your family.

Your family moves towards a secluded corner of the hall. Your brother’s grip on your wrist is so strong that you’re sure it’ll bruise tomorrow morning.

“Y/N,” Your father begins. He stops to sigh while pinching the bridge of his nose. “What kind of stunt do you think you’re pulling? Coming to the gala without giving us notice? Are you trying to get our attention? What is it?”

You look down nervously at your feet and shuffle them slightly. “No, dad. I just… I was invited.”

“You are always invited. You are a Y/L/N. You’ve never been one to attend these events. So, why now?” Your father says with a condescending tone. You almost let out a scoff. You can’t believe that your father had the nerve to say that you were always invited. He had been the one who had always told you that these events wouldn’t suit you.

“Am I? Then why haven’t I ever received a formal invitation? Yeah, I’m “invited” but I’m not welcomed aren’t I? I know, I’m an embarrassment to this family so yeah I’ll just leave now.” Your tone laced with anger. You felt frustrated and slightly hurt. You just didn’t want to deal with all of this tonight so you bowed towards him and turned to leave.

Your brother was quick to move and he tugged your wrist harshly.

Keep reading

A Court of Sea and Stars (7)

Chapter Seven: The Hewn City

Rhysand’s POV

I still wasn’t over the thrill of sitting beside my mate on matching thrones as we gazed lazily over the court of filth that bowed before us. Kier looked like he was ready to start ripping out throats, but he had the sense to keep his hands to himself while Mor glanced over their heads, Cassian and Azriel scanning the crowds—

It took the Court of Nightmares a moment to realize that we were all waiting for something…for someone. Someone respected and dangerous enough to keep the High Lord and Lady of the Night Court waiting—

I bit back a small smile as we remained still and silent, lazy and bored, letting myself draw small patterns over Feyre’s knee. The throne suits you, I purred through the bond.

She didn’t so much as glance at me as she shot back, I agree. Though I rather miss sitting on your lap.

I bit back a chuckle. Of course you do.

Prick. There was a small pause, and then… Where is your sister? She must have as much of a dramatic flare as you do.

It runs in the family, I said smoothly, though even I was beginning to grow somewhat impatient. A united front, I had told Astraia. That didn’t imply that she could be so bold as to disrespect them by appearing so late—


The entire hall seemed to rattle, but I grinned anyway. “My sister,” I drawled, making sure that my voice carried, “right on time, Lady Astraia.”

But it wasn’t Astraia who appeared. Not immediately. First it was one massive, scaly paw that moved from the shadows, the body of that creature towering high above the first layer of buildings that had been carved into the stone. Aither had tucked his silver wings in tight to fit, and his steps were long and slow, claws ticking wickedly over the stone floor. Faeries gasped and darted out of the way of his paws—he made no effort to avoid them, nearly stepping on one slow male. Walking beside him, slightly smaller and yet no less brilliant, were Calder, Kaj, and Sulien, all in dragon form. Their claws tapped against the stone, wings rustling, and Calder even bared his teeth slightly, showing off those wicked fangs that had even members of this despicable court paling.

And atop of Aither, wearing a black gown that was really nothing more than a slip, even more exposing than Feyre’s dresses had been, was Astraia. Her bare legs barely fit around the width of the dragon’s neck, but she looked perfectly at ease as she guided him through the hall. She kept her eyes—the same as mine—trained only on the floor in front of her, refusing to give this court one lick of her attention.

When Aither reached the dais, he crouched slightly, bending his head forward so that his neck rested along the ground, chin clinking where scales met stone. Astraia stood in one swift motion, revealing the gown for what it was—two wisps of black fabric that concealed her breasts and backside, but did nothing to hide the countless scars that covered her body. And gleaming against her legs from where they rested in a silver strap—those two swords. Noctis and Aestas, she had called them. Blades made of an impossibly rare metal she’d called star-steel.

I hadn’t really realized what a beautiful female my sister had grown into—truth be told, I had been busy admiring the beauty of the female beside me. But Astraia…I wasn’t surprised that Helion had immediately sent her a thinly-veiled invitation to come visit him. I wasn’t surprised that some of the braver males in the crowd were looking at her with awe and hunger. She—she was an adult female, with all of the curves that drove males crazy…and even by High Fae standards, she had been blessed.

She walked slowly down the line of his neck, carefully avoiding the spikes, walking straight down the massive dragon’s snout until her feet hit the ground. A flick of her wrist had Aither retreating slightly, hovering in the shadows with his brothers, occasionally uttering a low growl as Astraia took another step toward the dais. She grinned then, and there was nothing of the warm female I knew in that smile—this was shadows and whispers in the dark, this was the cold glow of a lone star and a promise before eyes closed for a final time.

And then she took her place on the steps and surveyed the crowd with a gleam in her eyes—one that I recognized enough in myself to mean, Danger.

“Hmmm,” she said eventually. “This place gets uglier with each visit.” And that was that. She fell into silence for the rest of the trip, none of the Hewn City’s inhabitants daring to express their outrage—not when they were being forced to mill about beneath the jaws of four dragons.

I caught her throwing taunting glances at some of the males once—they had the bravery to look hopeful for a single moment, and then she smiled at them. It wasn’t smooth white teeth that gleamed in her mouth, but a set of fangs, wicked and curved and sharp, like the talons on the tips of the wings that rose behind her, like the teeth that waited in the mouths of Aither, Kaj, Calder, and Sulien. If that had not been warning enough, a shadow appeared at her side, tall and strong and utterly obedient.

The males had disappeared into the crowd before she could offer them another smile.

I’d never been more proud of her.

Until, perhaps, the moment that we deigned to leave the city—Feyre and I had made more arrangements with Keir, even extending an olive branch by declaring we hoped not all of his Darkbringers had died. Never mind the fact that the only reason we bothered was so that we could tally the number of forces we had remaining after the war.

Feyre and I strolled out of the throne room, my hands in my pockets, both of us more than ready to be out of the odious city and back in Velaris. But then Astraia approached, her scaled beasts waiting patiently a few feet away. “High Lady,” she murmured in greeting, already a master of her mask. “Perhaps you would care to have…a different sort of ride.”

Through the bond, I felt Feyre chuckle slightly, and Astraia gave me a look that was purely the sweet innocence of a younger sibling who was about to do something very wrong. She gestured toward Aither, his amber eyes smoldering in the shadows. “As delightful as it is to have your own wings take the burden, I wonder if you would like to join my pets and I for a flight.”

Feyre paused carelessly, and I knew the entire court would be holding its breath. I waited with a curious sort of impatience of my own—how much of her steel would she allow them to see? How much fire would they realize lurked beneath her skin?

I felt myself go taut as Feyre said, eyes flashing, “Fine. But only if I can ride the big one.”

You have the worst mouth, I shuttled down the bond. Absolutely filthy.

I don’t believe you if you’re implying that the only things you’ve considered about my mouth are the words that come out of it, she replied with a wicked, dark humor that I’d learned long ago could only be wielded by a female who knew exactly who she was in this world.

Astraia grinned and snapped her fingers. Aither prowled forward immediately, his claws tapping an impatient rhythm on the stone floor. Behind him, Cassian, Az, and Mor were struggling to contain grins of their own as my mate and sister climbed Aither’s bowed neck and positioned themselves in the junction between his shoulders and spine.

I…I’ll see you at home, I managed to get through the bond before Aither shifted his weight and darted out of the mountain. I heard the thunderous flaps of impossibly large wings, the pounding of twelve feet as Calder, Kaj, and Sulien raced to catch their brother, their leaps surprisingly nimble despite their size. And then, they too were gone, disappearing on the wind that now carried Aither toward Velaris.

Toward home.

Feyre’s POV

I loved flying. I loved flying in the arms of my beloved, I loved flying with my own wings, I loved it all. But there was something about flying with Aither, on the back of a dragon…

There was something powerful and immortal about it in a way that shifting into those Illyrian wings wasn’t—because they weren’t permanent.

This…soaring on this creature’s back as he glided, mile after mile, dipping around the peaks of mountains, the wind trying to race with him and losing every time…this was different.

I let out a scream of pure delight, the skirt of my gown flapping beneath me. Between my legs, Aither’s body shuddered—laughter, I realized, he was laughing. I front of me, Astraia was laughing, too, a miracle in herself as she giggled. “Isn’t it amazing?” she gasped as the wind tore her breath away.

I could only nod in reply—it was. It was incredible and dangerous and free…

We arrived in Velaris too soon, so quickly it was over as Aither lunged between two clouds and dove, down, down, down, until he landed between the two rows of houses where our townhouse lay. Astraia and I slid off his back, the scales catching at our dresses, and were still giggling when he shifted back into a cantankerous looking male with ridiculously long silver hair. He crossed his arms, amber eyes immediately going to Astraia. “Pets?” he growled, voice still sounding like two boulders clashing against each other. “Really?”

She shrugged, a smile dancing on her lips. “Don’t pretend like you don’t love to scare people, Aith.”

“I do,” he growled, “but I like to do it my own way.”

Astraia gave him a fake pout. “Poor thing.”

There was a heavy crash as Kaj landed, followed by Calder and Sulien and then my mate, Cassian, Azriel, and Mor winnowing into the street. “Why,” demanded Kaj in outrage when he’d shifted, revealing a shirtless male with short brown hair and simmering eyes the same color as Aither’s, “does Aither always get to be between the females’ legs? I think I deserve—“

He was met by eight resounding snarls, Astraia growling, “Someone hit him for me.”

Kaj ducked away from his twin’s fist, only to slam head first into Sulien’s with expert synchronization. He barked a curse and rubbed his cheek, but before I could say anything, Astraia grabbed a fistful of his hair, yanked his head down so it was level with her eyes, and snarled, “Kaj. Listen to me very carefully because I’m going to say this exactly one more time—shut the hell up.”

She released him and stalked back into the townhouse, shadows swirling around her. I watched her go, my own irritation with Kaj’s comment disappearing as he mumbled an apology and then followed his blood-sworn into the house, clearly to go make amends. I’d once heard Astraia say that Kaj was an ass and an idiot, but his apologies were genuine—his words never meant with the intent to objectify or make people feel uncomfortable.

Calder said, “Don’t worry about her—she’s only upset because that Summer Lord hasn’t made an effort to contact her.” His tone was soothing, but it sent five pairs of eyes snapping toward him with disbelief.

“What did you say?” whispered Rhys.

The blonde male tipped his head. “Wasn’t it obvious?” he asked, glancing around at the five of them. “Didn’t you see his face when Aither…when she went to get you, Rhysand?”

I tried to think back to that moment, but felt myself beginning to quaver. It was so…so horrible, that emptiness I had felt when Rhys had been gone. How alone I’d felt, more alone than I’d been since he had saved me during Calanmai. But…yes…somewhere, in the background, beyond my care, there had been a scream, wretched and full of grief—and it hadn’t been my own. Tarquin…

Rhys’s eyes widened at the same time as mine, and it took Mor, Az, and Cassian nearly the same amount of time to come to the conclusion—

“No way,” swore Cassian.

But Aither was nodding, confirming Sulien and Calder’s questioning glances. “He was speaking to her before we left for Velaris,” he told his brothers, shooting my mate a sideways glance. “If you had seen the way he looked at her…”

“Oh, so you were spying?” Sulien rolled his eyes.

“Of course I was spying,” hissed Aither. “Do you not remember the last relationship she had with a male.”

Sulien winced, but Calder drawled, “Thane was a prick. She knew that before she got into bed with him—that’s why she never let herself develop feelings for him, and you know it.”

“I’m not talking about Thane,” snapped Aither. “I’m talking about Sethryn…and Zev, and Mordax, and Brevin and Heulfryn. That was a disaster, and you all know it.”

“She’s not going to bring five males into her bed again,” groaned Sulien. “Will you stop bringing that up?”

My thoughts eddied from my head. Five. Five? I was startled by Mor—she laughed suddenly, doubling over as gasps of laughter tore from her lips. “A-Astraia took five males to bed at once?” she heaved.

Aither gave her a withering look. “If you’re thinking about trying it, I would advise against it. She was traumatized. Which is why,” he added sharply, facing Calder, “she should be careful—“

“Give her more credit,” snapped Sulien. “It isn’t the bedroom she’s afraid of and you know it.”

“We don’t know if anything is going to happen,” said my mate. I turned toward Rhys, sensing his distress through the bond. 

“No,” admitted Aither. “We don’t.” He cocked his head again. “But I will tell you this, Rhysand—if that male offers your sister a shred of happiness, then she deserves it. She deserves every piece of joy this world can give her, and I’ll thank you to not interfere with anything that might affect that joy.”

My curiosity peaked, and I could sense Rhys thinking the same thing, his thoughts wandering to the sister who had disappeared through the door a few minutes ago. For the first time, I was seized with sudden gratitude—I had lost my sisters for a few months. Rhys had lost his for…centuries, and had somehow born it. I wasn’t sure I would have had the same resilience.

Astraia’s POV

She woke from a dream of waves crashing against a beach, a male’s outstretched hand reaching for her…

“We’re having visitors,” said Kaj from where he was sprawled on her bed. She didn’t bother to ask how long he’d been there or why he seemed to feel that he was entitled to sharing her personal space without her consent—all she remembered was that he had stumbled into her room to apologize, and then she’d fallen asleep while he’d read a book of poems to her. She’d assumed he would go back to his own rom, but now she wondered why she’d been so clueless. This was Kaj. He yawned widely. “Your brother is on his way.”

Astraia cringed and flopped back into the bed. “Doesn’t he have a mate to spend his mornings with?” she groaned, covering her head with a pillow. “Why does he have to bother me?”

Kaj stretched out. He was still shirtless, his powerful muscles rippling and tensing beneath his skin. His eyes were bleary with sleep—but he still managed to smile. “I couldn’t tell you,” he purred. “If I had a female as lovely as Feyre waiting beside me in the morning, I sure as hell wouldn’t be bothering with my siblings.”

“You’re a pig,” she growled, and shoved him off the bed as she stood up. She was wearing a thick nightgown that covered just about everything there was to see—no doubt something that had irked Kaj. She opened the door to find Rhys lifting his hand, about to knock. “What is it, brother?” Astraia didn’t bother to keep the impatience from her voice—she’d wanted to take the morning to sleep in, because the trip to the Hewn City had taken most of her energy.

“We’re having visitors,” he said.

“I told you,” moaned Kaj from the floor, where he was trying to make a pillow out of her discarded clothes. Astraia wondered if she could kick him from this distance—perhaps if she stretched out her leg quite far…

“And who is coming?” she wondered, deciding against the kick and instead hitting Kaj in the head with a book that she made fly from her shelf.

“Helion—“ Astraia rolled her eyes, “and…” Rhys hesitated a moment. “Varian, Cresseida, and Tarquin.”

Astraia didn’t hesitate, even though her thoughts were roaring as she contemplated the handsome male—and how he had screamed for her, how thoughtful he had been, how compassionate and understanding… “Lovely,” she said, though her toes were curling with foreign glee at the thought of getting to know the High Lord of Summer. “I presume we’ll all be staying at the House of Wind, then?”

Rhys nodded. “Although…I would like for them to see the city, at least. Helion has been our ally for nearly five hundred years…”

“And Tarquin?” His name was smooth and wonderful on her tongue. She liked it far better than saying “The High Lord of Summer.” Tarquin. The word brought crashing waves to mind, blue, depthless eyes—

“Tarquin once sought friendship between our two courts,” said Rhys quietly. She paused at that. “He was the only one who ever bothered—I would like him to know that I am grateful…and would like to be his friend, as well.”

“Well,” she said, “I’m certain that Amren will show Varian around, which means his sister and Tarquin can go with her. If you don’t take him yourself, that is.”

“You still will not see the city?” 

“No.” She spared a glance at Kaj, who looked as though he’d fallen asleep on the floor beside her feet. “I will, Rhys, someday. But…I…I can’t right now.”

“Can’t or won’t.”

“Fine,” she snapped. “Won’t. Every time I think about Velaris, and its lights, I think about…about mother. And how I’ve never known the city without her. How I should have died—and stayed dead—along side her—“

“Don’t you say that,” snarled Rhysand at the same time that Kaj growled from the floor. In an instant, her brother was scooping her into his arms—she let herself curl around him, inhaling his scent that was so much like her own… “Never say that, Astraia,” he whispered. “Please…please never say that. It was not your fault. If anything, I’m to blame—“

“Enough.” They turned to see Kaj glaring at the both of them, sadness and anger mingling on his tan face. “If you continue to blame yourself for wounds of the past, you will never heal,” he said, his voice gentle—but firm. “I’ve been alive for ten thousand years—and I would have fallen apart long ago if I didn’t learn to accept that some things are simply beyond my control.” He lifted his chin and gave Astraia a pointed glance. “Death is one of those things.”
“Sometimes,” was all she said in reply.

“Draw four, asshole.” Jason set his wildcard on the pile and smiled as serenely as he could at his older brother— which probably wasn’t that serene, given the circumstances. He glanced around the table. “And the color is red.”
Tim fished a red three out of his hand of cards. Damian came up with a red four. The three of them sat quietly while Grayson finished drawing his cards.
Uno tournaments were traditional, when the gang was all together. Jason couldn’t tell you when that started— he just knew that they kept a deck in the batmobile glove compartment. It didn’t seem like something Bruce would let in the house, much less in the car, but there you were— he let it pass. Card games had gotten them all through some dull nights.
Why uno? The wildcards didn’t give anybody flashbacks, for starters.
And games could get intense. Dick was taking the worst of it tonight— he had about a third of the deck fanned between his hands. That tended to happen when you sat between two people who were furious with you.
“You are eventually going to let me play a card, right?” Grayson tapped his fingers against his new cards as he added them to his hand. Jason laid down a red skip, and Dick made a face. “Okay.”
Mmhm, that’s what he got. Jason was really glad they were playing, honestly, because it turned out to be quality aggression relief. They had things to talk through anyway.
“So is Barbara coming?” he asked. She hadn’t responded to his text, but that was pretty standard. He tried not to take it personally.
“I don’t think so,” Grayson said. Tim and Damian played red nine, yellow nine respectively. “She doesn’t really want to be around me right now. Last time we talked she said some harsh things.”
“You’re dead to me?” Jason guessed. He set his last yellow card on the deck. “Sorry, no—that was last week. My bad.” He grinned in Dick’s direction. “Draw two.”
“Get wrecked,” Tim muttered. He laid down his own card— a yellow skip— and handed Dick two from the pile. “Babs isn’t coming.”
“What, so she texts you back?”
“Yeah, unlike you. It’s your turn.” Tim slid his chair a few inches away from Damian, who was scowling at him. “Chill.”
“Well if we’re not waiting for anyone else,” Jason ran through his cards. No yellows. “The meeting can officially come to order.” He laid another wildcard— unfortunately without the drawing bonus— onto the deck and turned to Dick. “You’re a despicable person, and I’m honestly considering setting you on fire. The color is green.”
“Seriously? I have thirty-six cards, but no greens.”
“That’s your problem then. One among many.”
“I missed you too.” Dick reached for the pile and drew another handful of cards, finally coming up with a green five. Tim played a one. “I really did, you know. And I’m glad to be back, even if Damian is the only one that will talk to me.”
Damian played a draw two. “Who’s side are you on?” Jason asked him, reaching for the pile.
“I’m not saying I agree with what he did.” Damian fanned his hand in front of him, rearranging his cards intently. “But I’ve already been forced away from one person that’s important to me, and I’m not doing it twice.”
“Listen…” Jason set his cards on the table. “We’ll figure the Bruce thing out, okay? Don’t worry about it. He always comes back.”
“Don’t we all?” Damian rubbed uncomfortably at his own chest. “Three for four.”
Jason jerked a thumb at Dick, who set a blue draw two on the pile. “That’s not the same, and you know it.”
“If you want to be technical about it, I was dead for about a minute.”
“That offends me on a very deep and very personal level.” Jason glared at Dick. “Wow! A whole minute. That must have been a nightmare. At least you didn’t have crawl your way out of your literal grave.” He pulled down the neckline of his shirt, revealing the tops of his autopsy scars. “These are real.”
Tim took a pair of cards from the pile. “That’s disturbing by multiple definitions, and you need to stop.” He turned to Dick. “But he’s right. That doesn’t qualify as dead, and even if it did, it wouldn’t matter— that was a minute. You were gone for months.”
“You’re right. I don’t mean to make excuses, I just—”
“I’m not finished yet.” Tim set his hand on the table. “You had no right to do that to us. It doesn’t even make logical sense— what exactly were you worried would happen if we knew you were alive? Who did you think we were going to tell? I’ve been keeping your secrets since I was twelve.”
“I’m sorry, Tim.”
“Yeah, you’re sorry. Meanwhile I get to watch literally every member of my family die. It’s a lot of fun. Doesn’t scar you at all. I definitely don’t wake up every morning and feel like screaming into the eternal void that swallows everyone I love.” Tim laughed unsteadily. “And this whole time, you were playing James Bond. I can’t even believe you.”
“It wasn’t fun for me either, you know.”
“Uh huh,” Jason told him, “I’m sure it was awful. Now that I think about it, you probably had it worse than us— I mean, we only went through two deaths in a year. That’s much better than going into deep cover and ‘shouldering the burden’ or whatever it was you said. Definitely.” He twirled a finger in the air. “Hey look at that— it’s a bird! It’s a plane! It’s complete and total bullshit.”
“I’m not saying I had it worse. I’m just saying that it was hard. I didn’t want to leave you guys.”
“Well you did, didn’t you? So now you’re gonna have to live with the consequences. Which are going to be severe, because you hurt a lot of people.” Jason glanced around the table. “Damian. Express emotion.”
Damian carefully set a card on the deck. “I wish you had been here when I got back,” he muttered. “That’s all I have to say.”
“There you have it.” Jason rolled his eyes. “I’m sure being by yourself was really rough. I’m sure you hated it. Really hit a downward spiral, I’m guessing.” Tim sighed loudly— Jason smiled. “I hope whatever you were doing was important.”
“It was,” Dick said. “It wasn’t exactly the Gotham circuit, but I think I still saved lives.”
“Great. Four for you, Dick Grayson! You go, Dick Grayson.” Jason pulled another wildcard from his hand. “But literally, draw four.”
“You’ve been waiting to do that, haven’t you?”
“I think I deserve this.” Jason slid the deck across the table. “Red again.”
“Are you ever going to let this go?” Dick pulled his cards from the pile— at that point he was holding half the deck. “Just curious.”
“I don’t know. If you play your cards right, maybe.” Jason sighed. “You could start with an actual apology.”
“I thought I already gave one.”
“Coded instruction isn’t an acceptable format for saying you’re sorry.” Honestly, did Grayson think that was okay? Jason watched Tim lay down a red eight.
“For all we know, you didn’t mean any of that. Unless you expect us to believe that everything you wanted to tell us magically fit into your damn pattern game. Can you see why I’m a little suspicious here? Kinda shady, if you know what I mean.” Jason rolled his eyes. “You can do better than that. One chance. Use it however you like.” He snapped his fingers into a gun shape. “There— did you get my message?”
“Okay, fine.” Dick took a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry I let you guys think I was dead. I’d been through a lot, and I just did what I always do— I kept moving. I tried to start over. Bruce gave me an opportunity to do that, and I took it, but that wasn’t fair to you. I’m not a traveling circus anymore. I have people I can’t leave behind. I should have remembered that.” He sighed. “I put you through hell, and none of you deserved that. I’m sorry.”
Jason didn’t quite know how to follow that, so he stared down at his cards instead. It was a fair apology, but it didn’t make him feel any better— the only thing that had helped so far was punching Dick straight in the face. Maybe he should do that again.
“Uno,” said Damian, laying a red zero on the pile.
“Wait what?”
“Uno,” he repeated. “One card. I’m about to win. As usual.”
“What the hell?” Tim asked. “You had eight cards the last time I checked.
“Then I would assume that was seven rounds ago,” Damian told him. “Todd, it’s your turn.”
“I could make it green?” Jason asked, looking around the table. “Do you think that would fix it?”
“I don’t have a green,” Dick reminded him. “You’d be gambling on me drawing something good. But we could do that.”
“We already used most of the good cards,” Tim said. “I object both on mathematical grounds and because it was Dick’s idea.”
“Thanks, Tim.”
“I’m still mad.”
“Got it.”
“Does he have another red?” Jason stared at Damian’s face, looking for a clue, but Damian stared impassibly back. “If he doesn’t, I could just reverse it.”
“I’m pretty sure you’re cheating,” Damian muttered. “This isn’t a team game.”
“Whatever.” Jason decided to go for it— he played his reverse. The entire table waited for Damian to reach for the pile.
He flipped a red skip onto the deck. “I win.”
“Dammit, Jay!” Tim swept the deck into his hands and started to reshuffle.
“You all owe me a dollar.” Damian stuck his hand across the table. “Unless you want to play again.”
“I should probably…” Dick tried to say, but Jason cut him off.
“Don’t you dare leave.” He pulled a dollar from his pocket and set it in Damian’s outstretched hand. “You owe me two months of time. You’re playing another round.”

Mating Season [Prologue]

Title: Mating Season [Prologue]
Character(s) Featured: Bruce Banner, James ‘Bucky’ Barnes, Clint Barton, Pietro Maximoff, Wanda Maximoff, Thor Odinson, Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanoff, Tony Stark
Words: 1,285
Pairing: The Avengers x Reader
Genre: Romance/Comedy/Smut
Rating: M (Mature 18+) contains mature sexual themes, and profanity
Author’s Notes: Hey everybody! Okay, I’m thinking of making this a prologue to a 'choose your own character’ kinda thing. I will be making different one-shots involving different Avengers and what happens between the reader and them. No, this is my first SMUT story so bare with me 'cause I’m not sure if the scenes will be written well enough. I guess we’ll have to see to find out. If you have read this far then I am taking a vote of who will be the first the reader catches. Inbox me, like, and/reblog with the character you wanna see first. Also, requests are open so drop me a line, people! This is the prologue so please enjoy…
Summary: You are a mutant whose powers consist of morphing into many different animals. There’s one catch though. Like any warm blooded mammal, as does that burden fallen onto you. You are, unfortunately, horribly, and embarrassingly, in heat. You go through it every year, and every year, you have managed to suppress your natural lustful instinct. But this year, you are an agent and are surrounded by many skillful and attractive potential mates. You must find someone to quench the fire burning within you. And your prey happens to be an Avenger.

Keep reading

Mother's Always Right

This has been wrote allowing reader to picture who they wish the mother to be

A mother attempts to salvage a relationship withering at the seams as exposed secrets bubble to the surface. …

She leaned again the door to her son’s bedroom. Her fingers gently stroking the door frame that he was behind, worries and doubts flooding his innocent mind. His brain whirling with insecurities and concerns that a child of eleven shouldn’t face. His anger that had resided in him she had warned Draco about over the coming weeks since he had received his letter. Draco’s worries of their son slipping from them straight into danger. 

“Scorp?” she whispered, her hand moving down the door as she hoped he would allow her entry. A frown line upon her forehead as she wishfully hoped she could have stopped it before it escalated. 

The argument that ensued over dinner between her husband and their eldest had been one for the records. Nerves were touched, things were spoken of that shouldn’t have been and she only wished that her son’s kindness would trump her husband’s stubbornness. But that would need to be a miracle. Her hand on her daughter’s shoulder, her husband’s fury at their son’s words. That their son couldn’t wait to ‘escape’ from him. Words she knew Draco had once said when describing his time at home in his seventh year. His only promise to never be like his own father was, something he worked tirelessly against and yet, in the heat of angered words over his ruined trip to Diagon Alley, his son hit him where it hurt.  

“Scorp..” she attempted again. “..I know what has been said -” 


“Scorpius I am merely trying to keep you safe —” Draco said as he slowly rose from his chair in annoyance, his fist pushing down into the dining room table.

“— More like keep me from watchful eyes, keep me shielded from the truth!”

“Your Mum and I told you everything! What reason would I now have to hide this from you, after all I sacrificed by even telling you —”

“I don’t know Dad, how do I know anything, the last eleven years have been a lie!”


His bedroom door opening interrupted her improvised monologue, slipping inside as she closed it behind her. Smiling at her son’s room, the once shrouded walls in quidditch posters and now shelves of books, muggle comic’s and magazines. His eyes looking up at her as she sat on his bed, his cheeks slightly blushed from tears.

“Your Dad doesn’t know when to stop,” she began unsure if she even had the words to mend the tear in their once strong relationship. “His anger, his.. impatience its apart of him that he buries but, he had a rough day -”

“- he had a rough day? Mum, a man near attacked me because I’m his son. I - I may never have seen you -”

“- Scorpius, your Dad would never allow that to happen,” she said firmly, crossing her arms as he scoffed. “He wouldn’t. He’d die before even allowing a hair on your head to be hurt. Trust me on that. You may be angry, you may be hurt at the secrets we kept of what your Dad was, but he’s a good man. He’s a changed man —”

Her mind remembering the day they had brought him home, the Healer catching their son’s hair as she checked him once over. The near deafening scream emitting from his little chest, Draco’s furious tirade at her shaking the woman to her core. His insistence on more sleep that he apologise and paid for a vacation for her and her family as his way of saying sorry. He was never a man to say the word.  

“Changed from torturing people you mean! Good people too. That why we hide out in this house… that’s why visiting Diagon Alley is almost a full operation! That why you hide those letters, those newspaper clippings.. Because he’s a good man? If that’s all true Mum why didn’t we know, why is it a secret that we have to hi-”


“Scorpius,” Draco snarled as his son rose from the table, their eyes glaring through one another.

“A man pulled a wand out on me, Dad. A man wanted to hurt me, because you hurt people! You. Hurt. People.”

Draco’s jaw clenching, “don’t you think I know that —”

“I’m not sure you do, you pretended for the last.. What? Eleven years it didn’t happen.. I can’t wait to go to Hogwarts! At least I can think for myself, find out the truth for myself!”

“Scorpius!” Draco yelled after him as he stormed from the room.

“- Enough, Scorpius,” she snapped, silencing the blonde immediately. “I am not in any way disregarding what your Dad has done in the past. But we was honest, we told you everything. I know it’s a lot you are getting your head around —"

Scorpius scoffed again as her child folded his own arms. Even looking at him she wouldn’t think he was eleven, more fifteen going on sixteen. He was so like Draco, yet so much wiser.

“— nor even what has been said tonight, but, you were just as out of line as he was. Your temper, your smart arse responses that got you into that fight, they come from him. Your calm, rational, brave need to say what’s on your mind side. That, unfortunately, comes from me. What happened over my beautiful dinner table, in front of your impressionable sister may I add, was out of line. Both of you was and were out of line. You need to go down there and talk to him, because of all the people on this Earth the only person he wants to look up to him, is you.”

“Mum,” he whined as she glared. 

"No Scorpius, I’m not having you blame him for the entirety of this fight. Which is what this is, a fight. A power struggle. You cannot, will not, go to Diagon Alley with your uncle just because your Dad cramps your style —”

“Cramps my style may be an understatement,” he muttered as she raised her eyebrow in annoyance as he pursed his lips before sighing, “Mum, I’m —”

“— Whatever you are mustering inside yourself, needs to be said to your Dad not me. I know that you know he’s a good man, I know you love him and you think the world of him and you are shocked and taken back by the lies we have hidden from you, but I am more to blame than him. I didn’t think it was fair to burden you with it.”

He looked to be mulling it over, admissibly it may have been below the belt to use the 'blame your mum’ card but she knew that he was as hot headed as Draco. She also knew how much the two of them depended and needed one another. A bond between Father and Son she hadn’t witnessed before. The two of them doing near everything with one another.

“I’m not apologising to him first -”

She crossed the room, pausing at his door, smiling to herself before looking over her shoulder as he sat with the same expression she often did when she lost. 

“Yes, you will because Scorp apologizing does not always mean that you are wrong and the other person is right. It just means that you value your relationship more than you being right.”

“And who said that?” He snarled jokingly.

“Your Uncle Harry when I had a fight with your Dad,” she smirked leaving her son’s bedroom.

House Of Cards Pt.2

||Part 1|| Part 2|| Part 3|| Part 4|| Prologue || Part 5 ||

You held in your breath and waited.

Warnings : Pretty much the same as the first one but I’ll repeat them just in case, Graphic depictions of violence and implied domestic sexual abuse. 

Originally posted by jjks

Even if you already knew that it was toxic, that it will only get worse, and that in the end it will all fall apart, you couldn’t stop. You couldn’t leave.

Yoongi had gone down on his knees, something you never thought you’d see him do with the amount of pride he held, and begged to be forgiven. To stay with him. He had looked at the bruises on your once smooth and soft skin with apologetic eyes and soft sighs.

No matter how stupid or fucked up it was, you still loved him. Deep down, you still loved him.

He repeated that he couldn’t live with himself every time a whimper would leave your parted lips as he traced his fingers down your hips and arms. Every time his lips would gently gently lock with yours. He asked for forgiveness over and over again, so much you grew tired of the words. He promised to show more restraints, that there won’t be a next time. That he loved you.

So, you did. You forgave him.

It had been easier to forgive than to forget. How could you when silence took over you would hear the empty threats and venomous words, when darkness took over you would see those dark angry eyes glaring at you, and when you caught glimpse of your bare reflection it would be decorated with violet blue.

However, eventually, the bruises faded and so did the pain. Eventually, it became a mistake of the past. You could’ve left, which looking at it now would have been much better, you had a lot to consider. You had a lot of empty excuses that you blinded yourself with and that, in the end, made you not want to leave.


“ Let’s close down early today and go out for a drink. How about it ?” Namjoon emerged from his office after spending the entire day drowning himself in bills and notices “ Jin-hyung will pay ”

“ Who are you to speak for me ?” Seokjin reached from behind the counter hitting the younger’s head playfully before turning to you and Taehyung with a soft smile “ let’s go ?”

“ How come you’re nice to everyone but me ?” Namjoon pouted, something that never suited his stern posture, trying to act. Everyone just cringed away.

“ Tough love, baby ” Seokjin ruffled Namjoon’s hair and the other leaned further, almost comfortably, into his touch with a dimply smile.

It always felt like you were witnessing a private, behind closed doors, moment so you looked away at Jimin, who came out the kitchen, with a glare.

“ That’s cute and all ” Jimin started working on putting the chairs away and you soon joined “ But, I can’t go, I have dance classes ”

“ Okay then, the four of us ?” Namjoon turned to you catching the faint look of worry in your eyes as you seemed taken away by thoughts but his attention was scattered when Taehyung jumped in front of his with doe eyes.

“ Can we call Hobi-hyung ?” Namjoon shook his head in dismay at the request and the rest just laughed. Hoseok, or hobi as everyone called him, was Namjoon’s younger brother. He was also Taehyung’s boyfriend, you had found out after the numerous times you found them kissing in the back kitchen and had to scold them each time since customers wouldn’t appreciate someone’s saliva near their food. But they never listened. Hoseok had always been shy about it but Taehyung just laughed out loud.

Knowing about their relationship didn’t bother you as much as it made you doubt the owner’s own very close bond, that always seemed to exceed the closeness of bestfriends. You had cursed your luck over and over again when you started working there. Being surrounded by some of the most attractive men you’ve seen but none would be interested in you.

It did leave Jimin, who you knew had a girlfriend he had been seeing since his highschool days, but he wasn’t an open option.

However, that was all before you had Yoongi. You didn’t really care after that. You had your own source of happiness. Then at least.

“ But it’s not a party with only four people !” Taehyung whined more following Namjoon like a lost puppy.

“ He has dance classes with me anyways so he can’t go ” Jimin rolled his eyes at Taehyung who stuck out his tongue at him. Childish but cute, you always thought.

“ Three ” You finally spoke out after rewinding it in your mind “ I have to go home early ”. You bit your lip at the ominous feeling that growled in your chest. Yoongi hadn’t done nor said anything, not even implied, he had been uncomfortable with such things but you couldn’t help but worry over it.

“ Hell no” Taehyung suddenly detached from Namjoon and held on to your arm “ You’re not going to leave me alone with these monsters ”

“ We won’t be that late ” Jin reassured you as he unhooked his apron, neatly folding it over the counter, and smiled “ And I’ll drive you back, okay ?”. Jin had stopped being concerned when you went back the next day as the bright mess he used to know and so did Namjoon. However, both of them kept you under scrutinizing eyes.

Namjoon noticed that you would stagger a couple of times and lose balance, or just strand away in your own thoughts, but you had always been on the clumsy side. Not that he was one to talk.

“ But weren’t you going to drink ? I don’t want to ruin the evening for you ” You quickly refused. You couldn’t burden him with taking care of you, you never do. And you couldn’t risk Yoongi ever seeing you alone with any, if all, of them.

“ I won’t drink, I just want a nice dinner with all my beautiful co-workers ” the boys groaned in disgust at the lovey-dovey words while you smiled shyly before slowly nodding. Jin sighed in relief when you agreed. It had been his idea all along to coax you out of any stress that might have been weighting down on your shoulders and maybe, if lucky, get some answers on your recent mood swings and excessive avoiding of them.

They were the best distraction for you. The four of you sat in the far corner of the small diner, table full of food and drinks that Tae and Namjoon extorted out of the eldest, while the other clients would often glare in your general direction for the loud laughs coming from your table. Which only made you breakout in louder, more deliberate, laughs. That was Taehyung’s specialty, pissing people off.

You and Jin didn’t drink. You because you weren’t a big fan of not having full control over your body and Jin because he promised. Jin was always true to his words. On the other end of the table, Namjoon and Taehyung had already crossed the phase of giggling over how a kimchi plate looked awfully like Hoseok. Whatever that was.

You let them be focusing on your sober conversation with Jin that seemed less interesting that the one they were having but much more enjoyable than whatever nonsense the drunkards were laughing at next. Maybe how the moon looked like Jimin after having put too much eyeliner on before a performance. You would never know.

“ So how’s headphone boy ?” Jin asked out of nowhere after the laughter died down and suddenly, almost immediately, Namjoon tuned in to your chat. As if he had never been drunk. You felt flustered and warmness clawed at your chest but you smiled.

“ Yoongi ? He’s okay. I mean we’re … okay ” Well, that didn’t sound suspicious at all You all thought as you exchanged meaningless glances.

“ What does he do ?” Jin was never the nosy person, so him asking that was both surprising and incredibly weird, maybe slightly funny at how he seemed to cringe at his own words.

“ He’s a rapper and producer ” You hated being the sudden center of attention. Especially on this subject.

“ Oh really ? That’s interesting ” Namjoon nodded.

“ Not as much as it sounds ” You heard a voice that didn’t belong to any of them but whose owner you knew too well. You stiffened when Yoongi’s cold hands clasped your shoulders and he kissed the crown of your head laughing.

“ Speak of the devil ” Jin stood up to offer him his hand. Devil, what a fitting name.

You looked up at your boyfriend who seemed to look everywhere but directly at you, smiling forcibly at the elder while shaking his hand.

Namjoon was quick to invite him to join you, pulling an empty chair from another table and putting it next to you for Yoongi to sit. The firm grip that held your shoulders slowly moved to lace with your fingers, keeping your hand on his thigh as he spoke to the others.

“ What are you doing here ?” You turned to Yoongi who was smiling more than usual, trying to sound less flustered than you were.

“ I could be saying the same about you ” He laughed dryly “ I told you I’ll be meeting a friend of mine today ”. He did You forgot about that, you forgot to tell him you were going out also. But, you never needed to do so. It still felt like you just made a mistake and the consequences scared you.

Yoongi leaned closer, his lips almost touching your earlobe, and you hated the way you flinched away from him like a scared cat. You hated the way Jin’s eyebrows furrowed as you did so and how Namjoon seemed to notice as well.

“ If you’re done here, let’s leave ” Yoongi whispered calmly before kissing your cheek then standing up, excusing himself despite their objection. Your eyes followed him closely until he exited the restaurant and turned your attention to your own company. Taehyung had fallen asleep on Namjoon’s shoulder, looking as peacefully as a little child would. But, the two others were both staring at you with questioning eyes and awaiting ears.

“ Everything okay ?”

“ Y-yeah, of course, why wouldn’t it be? I just … I- have to go. Thank you for inviting me today, I really liked it. Let’s do it again someday. I’ll go now ” You didn’t let them get a word out between your blabber or after you stopped since you were as quickly out the door. Anxious.

Yoongi was waiting for you by the car, the same eyes and gaze he had on that day. You felt insecurity again, you felt danger again. It was collapsing again. He opened the door for you and held it until you went inside before slamming it shut. Your heart started beating faster and cold sweat slowly covered your body. Possibilities played in front of your eyes and none of them ended well.

However, he said nothing. Yoongi just drove away silently digging his fingernails into the leather cover of his leather steering wheels, knuckles going white. It was until he reached up to brush back his hair and you flinched away again that he burst out a dry chuckle, turning to you and disregarding the road in front of him.

“ Are you afraid of me ?” He scoffed. You started feeling more scared, more anxious, the less he looked at the street and more at you. Other cars were at hitting proximity of yours and he didn’t seem to really care. You shook your head earnestly at him.

“ Yoongi, please, calm down ” You pleaded, tears starting to cloud your vision.

“ I’m fucking calm !” He yelled out slamming his hand against the wheel, almost losing control over the car. You just wanted it to stop moving, you wanted to get home as fast as possible but more than anything, you wished another car would just crash into yours. You held in your breath and waited.

“ Yoongi, I don’t know why you’re so mad ”

“ I told you I’m not ”

“ You don’t look like you’re not ”

“ Can you shut up for one fucking second ” And there it was. The first hit. He shoved your head away, your hair covering your face from the impact as you now faced the window. You looked out, people passing by like nothing happened. They couldn’t see inside the car and you were certain they wouldn’t even care even if they were able to. You were no one.

“ Useless slut ” He cursed under his breath, finally focusing back on the road and avoiding the other vehicles.

You stilled like that until the ride was over, too soon than you would have wanted to, and you were dragged out.

“ You’re not allowed to go back to the coffee shop ” Yoongi seemed to have a liking for slamming doors and hitting things as he knocked over anything that was in his path to reach you.

“ Allowed ?” You scoffed in a sarcastic tone “ Yoongi, you don’t own me. You can’t tell me what I’m allowed to do ”

“ What did you say ?” You felt hesitant to repeat yourself, not with the lifeless gaze he was giving you and not with how his fist clenched tightly. He was a breath away and you were helpless.

“ Yoongi … I-”

“ I thought I reminded you who you belong to … Have you forgotten already ?” He marched forward driving you back into the wall behind you then pressing you painfully against it.

“ You said -”

“ Shut up ” He growled at you, his breath smelled like cigarettes and alcohol. You didn’t know he smoked. Or if he had started to recently. You didn’t know who the man that stood in front of you was anymore and it frightened you.

“ Yoongi ”  

“ Don’t say my name !” His palm met your cheek with a loud slap that would have left you on the ground if his body wasn’t trapping you up. He turned your face to look at him again but you avoided his eyes. Hoping to make him less mad, but it only made him furious.

“ I thought you loved me ” It was ironic how he would be saying those words to you while he had you pinned against a cold wall in the most non-loving way possible. You shrugged.

I thought you loved me ” You spoke with a mocking tone that you soon regretted. Because this time it wasn’t his palm but his fist.

You pushed back, hit back, once twice until you lost count. You would at least give yourself the credit of having fought back. But, the damage you’ve done to him was far less than what he had left on you.

You gathered all your remaining energy to shove him back against the coffee table, making him lose balance for the few moments it took you to reach the door.

However, before you could open it, you felt a strong grip on your hair that yanked you back into the ground. Hair strands feeling like they’ve been pulled completely out your skull.

“ You’re not leaving me ” The last thing you heard before blacking out was a zipper “ Never ”

I feel bad for writing my bias like this but it was between him and hobi … so… Don’t hate me too much.

Feedback is always welcomed !