between the harshness of their words and the gentleness of their touches

Pairing: Dean/Cas
Length: 2.5k
Tags: Fluff, Mild Angst, Pining, First Kiss, Canon Divergent
 
Read on AO3

A special thank you to @braezenkitty for being my awesome beta <3

“You just gotta get laid,” Dean said, reseating the burger beside the pile of fries on his plate, this time with a big bite missing. “Or a decent kiss, at least.”

He crumbled a napkin between greasy fingers, tossed it to the middle of the table. Shoved his shirtsleeves up one more time as he tucked his black fed tie under the table ledge and away from the plate. “It’d loosen you up, buddy. And maybe you’d quit tryna live vicariously through horny eighteen-year-olds.”

This was because of the door-to-door canvas. The couple at the park who’d been all over each other, that Castiel hadn’t been able to stop looking at—even after the old, blue-haired lady at 512 Bakersfield Court had made a comment. “Your partner likes to stare…” like she’d never in her seventy-five years of life seen someone curious about such a thing.

If only that was the first time I heard it, too,” Dean’d smiled back from her stoop, the sharp sun cooking them both in the stuffy Tennessee heat. A marked jab to Cas’ ribs, and a walk to the nearest pub later, and Dean was bringing it up again, because, of course he was. Why talk about the case?

“I only glanced at the couple in the park,” Cas sighed. “It’s not a recurring issue. It doesn’t mean anything.”

Dean laughed, lipped his beer bottle, and took a stout drink. “Sure,” he said. “Glanced at them. Glanced at those girls holding hands last week—though, I’ll give ya that one. I gave ‘em a couple once-overs too.”

“Dean—”

“Point is, it ain’t the first time, and you’re a damn liar.”

Cas rolled his eyes. “My being, or not being with people has nothing to do with anything—”

“Has everything to do with everything when you’re touch-starved.”

“I’m not starved. I’ve been… touched.”

Dean scoffed, swirled his beer bottle. “Sure, if you wanna count Reaper-Fools-Day.”

“I’ve kissed more people than April,” Cas bristled back. “How about we talk about what you know of touch starved instead?”

Dean snapped shut, cocked his head as a follow-up comment seemed to slip from his mouth quick. He replaced the words with a couple fries and averted eyes. “Fine,” he relented around the bite. “And?”

“And… What?”

He looked back up, eyebrows jumping. “Were they any good?”

“Who? The people?”

“The kissing, idiot. Was the kissing any good?”

Cas’ heart flopped. He slipped a hand down his beer bottle, and then back up again nervously. The motion pulled Dean’s attention in a glance, so Cas tucked the rogue thing back onto his lap instead. Fingers lacing together under the shelter of the slick waxed top where no one could see. “I don’t know. Yes?” he offered carefully.

“Are you tellin’ me, or askin’ me right now?”

“No—I mean… ” Cas cleared his throat, shifted in his chair, and listened to the wood slats groan. “They were fine. They were… wet.”

“Wet?” Dean repeated. “Cas, wet is how you describe a swimming pool… Oregon in the winter, maybe… Not a kiss. Never a good kiss.”

“Then how should I describe it?”

“No, I mean… if they were wet, then they were wet—”

“No, please. You tell me.”

Dean’s face suddenly fell wide in mock innocence. “What? You want me to describe a good kiss to you right now? In the middle of a restaurant.”

“If wet is insufficient—”

“Oh, yeah. It’s like, miles of not-sufficient-ness, dude.”

Cas chewed a smile down and gestured Dean’s way. Crossed his arms, and sat back. He watched Dean waffle before finally sliding back in his chair to think. He splayed wide, elbows up on the armrests and knees hugging the corners. His face caught the dim overhead lights, and the sun-kissed healthy pink of his skin shone back like warm earth.

He had white in the creases beside his eyes where his smile lines had shaded him from the harsh afternoon sun. A little cut of tan at the bridge of his nose where his sunglasses sat after he’d gotten sick of squinting through the reflections of every bright midday door.

“Okay, it’s like this,” he said finally, tapping an erratic finger on the neck of his bottle, and pausing to worry his lip. “A kiss is a kiss is a kiss, til it ain’t. If you’re with the right person, then the tension between you’s gonna be thick enough to cut. It’s gonna feel like you’ve got a firecracker in your gut, and that other person’s just flicking the Bic. The minute the two of you kiss, the fuse lights. That bastard explosive rips up through your chest, and pops behind your eyes, and I’m talking—screw seeing colors at that point—you’ll be so wrecked, you’ll know what they sound like.

Castiel smiled as Dean came back in with a languid look, and a tongue tip between his teeth. He peeled forward, hovering over the table, so much closer than before, that there was only the dragging smell of his burger all tangled up in his woody cologne for Cas to breathe.

“That’s a good kiss,” he said slowly, and maybe it was Castiel’s imagination, but the sun kiss on Dean’s cheeks had spread to his ears now. “Sounds good, don’t it?”

“It sounds very good,” Castiel agreed. “Very surreal.”

Dean let a long, animated sigh into the room and it mixed happy with the gentle murmur of the busy forks and glasses around them. “Oh, it’s very real,” he said. “Just not very common.”

He poked absently at the pile of cooling fries, and sucked the salt from the end of his finger. The gorgeous smacking sound it made curled red ribbons in Cas’ stomach. “Still, you find someone who’ll give you that, and it’s the kinda thing that’ll right some wrongs. Know what I mean?”

Cas took a long drink, smile falling as the carbonation from his beer prickled reality back into his tongue. “Sure,” he said quietly. “I’ll have to take your word for it.”

Dean’s mouth thinned, and his eyes ping-ponged away uneasy. He tailed and tacked down the waitress, kept locked on her as she floated behind the counter poking something into the mounted LED screen beside the register. “Doesn’t that rub you, though?” he asked, “not knowing for yourself. Don’t you… want that with somebody?”

Cas puffed surprised, and his mouth went dry. Try as he might, the beer wouldn’t wet it. “I mean, yes…” he said earnestly, and the admission ate holes in his stomach.

“Then… how come you ignore all the waitresses I send your way? You’re never gonna get it if you don’t even try.”

Cas was suddenly, and shamefully aware of his attention at Dean’s lips, and when Dean snagged a glance at him, Cas tore his eyes away, shoved them onto the table instead. Focused everything he had on the bleed of condensation below the cool, brown bottle to his left.

“Those people wouldn’t change anything,” he said to the ring. “Colors were never meant to make sounds for some.”

Dean fidgeted the fries again, finally pushed them aside, and brushed the salt off his hand this time instead of eating it. “I guess we better head out,” he said, flagging the waitress. “Sam’s waiting.”


They paid, and headed back out into the melty summer heat. It was sunset, but the air was still laying in the city thick as a wool blanket. Shadows stretched through the streets like plastic-capped Halloween fingers, crowding up in the alleyways and turns, painting the dingy brick walls black.

Cas flared his coat to check his back pocket for his wallet as they passed a couple people with hungry eyes, but just as quickly remembered that he’d dropped his last twenty for the meal, and let the impulse to feed them drift out. Still, he welcomed the brief breeze it gave him, and he wondered if maybe it was getting time to rethink the coat. Grace or not, he seemed to be touchier to the temperatures these days, and it was starting to seem like wardrobe was becoming more important—practically speaking.

Dean shed his own suit coat as if he’d just read Castiel’s mind, and slung it over his shoulder with a hooked finger. His shirtsleeves were still shoved up to his elbows under the blazer, as if he’d put it on after dinner, distracted. “Nothing fancy,” he murmured to his feet.

“Pardon?”

“Hmm—?” He looked over quick, eyes wide, before blinking them back down. “What?”

“I just didn’t catch what you said.”

Dean shook his head. “I didn’t—” But when Cas frowned, opened his mouth to contest, Dean relented. “Oh, you mean the, uh, thing I said out loud…” He cleared his throat, added “apparently” under his breath, and slowed down for some oncoming foot traffic.

“I was just thinking about the, uh, Nichols’ story,” he said, temporarily falling in line behind Cas as a group of people passed. He touched the small of Cas’ back out of nowhere, and kept his hand there. Cas’ chest snagged. “The alibi Brent was peddling didn’t feel right.” His voice was soft in Cas’ ear, almost breathy—but brief, and when he pulled up beside Cas again, sidewalk clear, Cas grabbed a shaky glance, but Dean wasn’t watching.

“You, uh, think they have something to do with the black magic we’re seeing?” Cas asked, and his voice managed to pour out level, despite his stomach coming off that quick rollercoaster dip.

“I mean, the house was a little much for a twenty-hour a week gas-slinging gig at the local area Gas n’ Sip, don’t you think?”

It was the most they’d talked about the case all day.

“Fancy,” Cas reiterated, then, “I certainly never would’ve been able to afford that place when I worked there.” For some reason, the comment pulled Dean tight at the joints. “But I couldn’t even afford hourly motels.”

“Well… the hourlies charge more.”

Cas frowned again, started to ask why when Dean squirmed past it. “But, you’re right,” he said. “Doesn’t add up no matter how you flip the numbers.”

“So, do you suspect they’re the source of the black magic, or victims of it?”

They hopped down the curb, checking the way for traffic, and ended up on the grassy side of Spring Street, just down from their motel. Dean popped a piece of gum in his mouth, balled the wrapper, and stuck it back in his pocket instead of tossing it away.

“I suspect there’s something screwy going on,” he said, “and that’s as far as I’ve got.”

He plucked the gum from his mouth a moment later, and flicked it to the bushes, ran a hand down his face. “Sam’s doing backgrounds as we speak. Here’s hoping there’s a smoking gun in there somewhere. But, ‘til we get that, we’re pulling straws.”

The streetlamps kicked on, buzzing like fireflies in the thick night, the light falling on the street in goldweave strings as they hustled past a defunct sporting goods store—hollow bones brick and mortar now. No one missing what used to be inside.

Dean scanned the streets, watched another few strings of dusk foot traffic pass on the left while he chewed his cheeks.

“Did Sam find anything at the morgue?” Cas pressed, because the silence seemed oddly unnerving.

“No—I mean, uh, I don’t know. Haven’t talked to him.”

“I thought we were meeting him.”

Dean’s attention caught up in a little alcove at the end of the street and he gripped his jacket tighter, tucked his chin and let a heavy breath out. “We are,” he said quietly.

“Not at the morgue?”

“Um, no, he’s at the motel,” Dean said, and he sounded nervous. “Waiting to take us.”

“Maybe we’ll get lucky and we’ll find a hex bag, or—”

Dean suddenly shoved Cas’ sideways, off the street and into the alcove, shadows tangling up in the corners of it, all those long witch fingers bleeding to flat black. Castiel grunted, surprised. “What’re you—” and his throat went dry as Dean pushed him into the stuccoed brick backside of a closed Chinese restaurant, hands curling up on both sides of Cas’ jaw, but fingers combing a soft arc “—doing?”

“Nothin’, if you don’t want me to,” Dean whispered, conviction skippy at best. His body was hot against Cas. Heavy and hard. Nothing like April’s… Meg’s… Hannah’s…

The question—and it was a question—coiled in Cas’ belly like a fever dream, but an answer never had a chance of bubbling back out. Because a response would’ve been moot before it ever left his lips. Castiel’s pause was too long to be a no, and his fingers had already found their way to Dean’s waist. They were making note of the way his blue button down clung to his sides, like the tee underneath had been soaking in all that sudden, nervous heat since before they’d ever even left the bar.

And so, Dean brushed their lips together, not a hesitation so much as dipping a toe, and a rush of butterflies went right to Cas’ head without mercy. Cas whimpered without meaning to, and Dean landed the meat of the kiss, hands falling down Cas’ neck and dragging that unruly sensation through. His lips were soft and his cheeks, five o’clock gritty. He worked Cas’ mouth open with a roll of his jaw, and a flirty burst of mint graced Cas with the pass of Dean’s tongue.

Castiel melted into it, fingers curling around the back of Dean’s head as he tried desperately to get a handhold on something. Their hips rolled together. Cas stole himself a handful of Dean’s ass. Felt Dean hard against him as he moved against Cas’ thigh.

Dean’s breath went rocky, like he was fighting some kind of tightrope walk of heavy and thin, and the sound he made was dirty enough to sin. Castiel nosed him, combed fingers through his hair as Dean pulled back. His eyes fell hot on Cas’ mouth. The shadows ate the flush from his face, but not the burning heat of it.

“Now tell me again,” he whispered, voice licking at Cas ear and coming out like gravy. “Tell me again what a kiss feels like.”

Castiel huffed, tried to catch his running brain. He couldn’t help himself, hands still at Dean’s waist, he held him there. The both of them were hard, and neither of them were in a hurry to do anything about it. “I would say… green makes a helluva sound,” he whispered back.

He watched a wicked smile crawl through Dean’s face. “There it is,” Dean hummed, dragging a chill with his thumb from the skin he’d bared at Cas’ side, and chasing it to Cas’ neck with a soft breath, a kiss. “An’ I’m just getting started too.”

Then, he pulled away, the absence of his sticky heat leaving Cas bare. The gravel chewed under Dean’s heels as he headed for the street, pausing only to stoop for the jacket he’d shed at some point on the way. He shook it off, straightened his tie. “Let’s go! We’re late!”

Castiel swallowed, hand to his stomach, and peeled himself from the brick.

say you won’t let go | 01

 part 01 | part 02 [final] 

Summary: You’ve been eighteen years old for ten years when Jungkook first moves in.
Pairing: Jungkook | Reader
Genre: Fluff/Angst; Roommate/Soulmate AU (In which you stop aging when you turn 18 until you meet your soulmate)
Word Count: 12,038
Author’s Note: I was going to wait and upload the whole thing in one giant oneshot but for the stake of everyone’s sanity, it’ll be split into two parts. props to @minsvga for always being down to beta! 

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The morning comes like clockwork, obviously, but sometimes you wish it didn’t. Sometimes, the morning is like an unexpected gust of wind, blowing away the present and the comfort and leaving you alone with nothing but your thoughts and the disappointing feeling akin to the sensation of something missing from your life. Which, considering everything the world and the fates and the bonds that connect individuals together and all the shit like that, is not too far off from a relevant problem in your life.

The days seem to blend together, time slipping between your fingers but leaving you with no opportunity or way to stop it or prolong it. You certainly feel different, older somehow and probably wiser, and you’re sure it shows in your eyes, in the curl of your lips, in the longing touch of your smile.

But you crawl out of bed in the morning, feet landing like a gentle sigh on the carpet, following the hall down to your bathroom until you’re situated in front of the sink and taking a long glance at your reflection. You don’t know why you insist to yourself to always look at the mirror, because it’s not like anything would have changed overnight, nothing ever really does. You take in your expression, the skin of your face and the darkness of your eyes, a harsh contrast to the youth of your face, the curve of your nose and the sharpness of your jawline—you: fresh, and young and not a day over eighteen-years-old, just as you have been for ten years.

This has been the way of human life since its creation, a science with no explanation and a connection that cannot be seen or heard or even felt. It’s a different kind of connection, moreso the type of link that brings two people together, two people whoever has a hand in predetermination believe would be the best fit for each other. A soulmate, an individual meant to compliment you in every aspect, someone gifted to you from unidentifiable figures; figures you would not even believe existed if not for the world they created and built, a world you now inhabited.

In theory, the unspoken rules of the whole soulmate business seemed easy: a case in which the aging process stops at the eighteen until one’s soulmate came along, done so in order for the pair of them to gain the ability to grow old together, experience life together, be there for each other during the true ups and downs of college and jobs and family. Every single person you’ve ever stumbled upon each has their own story, their own tales of their relationship. You’ve met people in a relationship that never grew, friends who realized they were each other’s everything, individuals who went through years upon years upon years of life with a soulmate fresh out of the gate—always a variety, never a wrong answer or a right one. Yet, they all seem happy, no matter where the path of life seems to take them.

But now that you’ve been eighteen for a solid ten years, you’re ready to call major bullshit on every single individual who dared to look you in the eye and tell you that they don’t care about the unwinding of fate.

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[ one can only imagine lol hope you enjoy and thank you for requesting!! ]

Rated (SM) for slightly mature.


Seokjin 

➸ There was nothing rushed during your little shower session, Jin was definitely going to take his time with you. Thankful he had time off to spend with you, he wanted to make it last for a long as he could - from slow kisses to the slow rhythm of his hips as he easily slid into your entrance. Soft moans would fall from each of your lips as they barely separated from one another, you hands caressing his face while his would travel from your thighs, hips, to waist. He didn’t leave any patch of skin untouched, neither did you. Everything about this moment was perfect and filled with bliss. It was as if the whole world had stopped for the two of you…but unfortunately, that’s unrealistic thinking. 

“Could you two stop blowing up the goddamn water bill?” 

Jin nearly drops you at the sound of Yoongi’s voice, you letting out a small squeak as he presses you even farther into the wall, his chest smushing into yours to hide you away from the sudden intruder. 

“Yah, Suga! Why didn’t you knock, that’s so rude!” 

“So is using up all the hot water. Do it in the bedroom, like normal fucking people.” 

Yoongi 

➸ You’ve been needy all day, and when he was finally home, you weren’t wasting a second more. He wasn’t complaining - hell - he was hoping you were in the mood anyways. Things didn’t take long to escalate as Yoongi had no trouble taking you from behind, smirking lazily at the sounds you didn’t even bother to cover up. 

“That’s it, baby, let me hear how good you feel…” 

Constant whispers of unholy things were enough to increase the volume of your moans, not taking into consideration that you two wouldn’t exactly be alone for much longer. Not even 30 seconds have passed when a harsh knock came to the door, but Yoongi didn’t falter into his thrusts - he didn’t even stop. As he continued to pound into you, he answered to whoever was at the door. 

“I’m busy.” 

“Yeah, we know! We all heard you from the front door! The FRONT DOOR, Yoongi! Could you keep it down a little?” 

Min Yoongi grins so devilishly at the back of your head, you could feel chills run down your spine. Gripping your hair tightly to tug your neck backward, you could now see the mischievous look in his eyes; he was up to no good. 

“Sure, no problem.” Without even missing a beat, Yoongi starts back up again at an inhuman amount of speed, finally hitting that one spot over and over again that both made you see stars, and scream at the top of your lungs. By now, the neighbors could probably hear the two of you as well. 

“Is this down enough for you?” They could practically hear his shit-eating grin, all glaring at the door as it seemed that now there was no stopping him. 

He was smart enough to lock the door. 

Namjoon 

➸ The two of you just couldn’t wait; didn’t even get fully undressed until after you stepped into the shower. Namjoon watched you intensely as he undressed you from your now drenched shirt, licking his lips at the mere sight of the water dripping down your body rapidly. 

“Fuck, I’ve missed you, jagi…” He groans before pulling you closer to continue the make-out session you started in the living room. Reaching in between the two of you, you eagerly gripped his already throbbing member causing a strained moan to escape past his lips in surprise. 

Namjoon practically panted in your mouth as your pace picked up in no time, him letting you touch him for as long as you wanted as he placed one hand to the wall to keep his balance. 

“Namjoon, did you break my headphon-OH. OH OH OH I AM SO SORRY. IGNORE ME, YOU SEEM BUSY, ILL ASK LATER BYE.” Hoseok flailed, almost slipping on the rug on his way out, almost forgetting where the door knob was as he dramatically exited the bathroom. 

Both you and Namjoon stared at the door with raised eyebrows, him shrugging his shoulders while you giggled softly while shaking your head. That small interruption didn’t kill the mood at all for the two of you, as he stared down at you with lust filled eyes and a slanted smirk. 

“On your knees, babygirl.” 

Hoseok

➸ It was the end of your anniversary date, which consisted of dinner and a movie. He wanted the night to be perfect, and boy did he deliver. Hoseok was nothing but romantic and gentle with you all night, everything just all cuddly and calm. The warm water that cascaded down your still clothed figures felt so relaxing - his soft kisses that trailed from the side of your face to your neck almost had you practically melting in his arms. Your hands ran through his damp hair, while his were placed firmly on your hips, as the two of you basically slow danced in the shower. 

“You’re too good for me, Hobi…how did I get so lucky?” 

He chuckles softly, now nuzzling his head in the crook of your neck. “That’s my line, jagi…I should be asking you that.” 

It didn’t take long for his sweet kisses to turn into sucks, as he marked all of your favorite spots that he’s memorized all too well. Your bite your lip to keep quiet, knowing good and well that the others were in the bed by now…or were they? 

“I’m telling you, Jin-hyung, I turned off the shower an hour ag-OH HOLY SHIT!” As quick as the door came open, it was slammed shut. You and Hoseok now stared at the door in pure horror, covering each other up - even though neither of you was naked yet. Quickly turning off the shower, Hoseok steps out right as Jin opened the door once again - only this time with his eyes covered. By now, Jungkook ran back to his room in embarrassment. 

“I don’t care what you two were about to do in here, it’s none of my business. But, for the sake of Jungkook, and my innocent eyeballs - could you lock the door next time?” 

Jimin 

➸ Just like Hoseok, it was more a soothing type of shower session between the two of you. He sat on the shower bench while you straddled his lap, your bra still intact as Jimin just teased the straps, him smiling teasingly in the kiss as you hissed at him when he would tug it far, only to then let them snap back against your wet skin. 

“Jimin, I swear to God if you do that one more time, I’ll-”

“You’ll what, baby, huh?” His smile drops as he dared you to finish that threat, the hands that were placed upon your upper back now dangerously low on your ass - giving you a warning squeeze. “Did you forget who you talking to for a moment there? Does daddy need to punish you?” 

Before you could even respond, you could see the color drain from his face as his eyes drifted to something that was behind you. Tilting your head to the side in confusion, you turn to see what he was looking at, only to let out a scream in shock. Taehyung stood there in complete horror, unfortunately walking in at the wrong time. 

“I-I…I have no words…”

“Tae…how much did you hear?” Jimin gulps, afraid that his friend might have just discovered a little too much about himself. 

“Enough to where I want to shove pencils in my ears. Dinner’s ready, by the way, but it looks to me you’re already about to eat-”

“Y A H.” Jimin exclaims, Tae shooting his hands up in surrender as he starts to exit the bathroom with still a look of horror on his face. “Don’t tell anyone about this, please. I’m begging you.”

He shrugs, a small smirk starting to creep upon his lips. “Will daddy punish me if I do-”

“sTOP.” 

Taehyung 

➸ It was, at first, a solo shower. You had just gotten home from work, your day already starting off shitty - but that really took the cake. Not only did most of your co-workers call in sick, but they did it on the day where you have the most crowds. You were practically drowning in stress that you almost punched a costumer in the face. In conclusion : worst day ever. 

The dorm was empty by the time you got there, mentally thanking the man up in the sky that at least you came home to some peace and quiet for once. The warm water was exactly what you needed, but yet it wasn’t enough to fully relax you. Sighing heavily at the fact of not being completely satisfied, you lean forward to turn the water off - feeling defeat. It wasn’t until you felt a pair of cold hand grab your waist, and spin you around did you accidentally turn it to freezing ice water before letting out a small scream. Taehyung doesn’t hesitate to seal you screams with a kiss, letting you register that it was only him as you finally calmed down. 

“You jackass, don’t do that! One of these days I’m gonna stab you!” You couldn’t help but giggle as he started placing kisses all over your face, your lips trembling as the cold water draped over your bodies. 

“With what? Soap? Your shampoo bottle?” He teased, while continuing to place kisses anywhere and everywhere. “You looked a little down, so you can’t tell me that didn’t brighten you mood up just a little bit, jagi.” 

You wanted to punch him for almost giving you a heart attack, but you were happy to see him. Taehyung was actually the last puzzle piece to help turn this sour day back to sweet. Leaning into him closer to further his pecks into something more, the door to the bathroom was practically kicked in, and in came six out of the seven members as they all rushed into the small bathroom - Jimin holding a bat, while Hoseok started swinging at the air. 

“Y/n! Are you alright?! We heard you scream and- oh.” Namjoon pushed his way in, only to see that it wasn’t what they thought at all. “Seriously? Why can’t you do this at your own place - some of us have to shower in there, too!” 

Jungkook 

➸ You moaned into his mouth shamelessly at the pleasure he was giving you, the rushed movements of your mouths only making the bathroom much more steamier than the hot water. He wanted to use up all the time he had with you, knowing that his hyungs would be home soon, Jungkook wanted to use this opportunity to make noise as much as possibly. With one hand he held your wrists together, while the other rubbed your clit in slow circles, the water giving spectacular lubrication as you whimpered at the feeling. 

“Jungkook…p-please…” 

“Please what, Y/n? You’re gonna have to be more specific~” 

“Please g-go faster, please..!” You would cry, the teasing no longer tolerable as you were now reduced to begging. You would give anything to cum, even so much as scream his name while his hyungs were home. Be careful what you wish for. 

“Jungkook, are you watching porn again?” Jimin opens the door, only for both his eyes and mouth to completely bust wide open in shock. Jungkook being Jungkook quickly pulled away from you to cover himself up - only to then realize that you were naked as well, to then cover you up away from Jimin’s amused stare. 

“J-Jimin, don’t tell Jin-hyung! W-We were just uh…saving water?” 

“Oh, don’t worry, Kookie. I won’t tell him that you’re committing unholy things in his bathroom.” Not even five seconds later, “SEOKJIN! GUESS WHO’S MAKING BABIES IN YOUR SHOWER.” 

Jungkook, not even giving a shit anymore, would practically run after Jimin naked - leaving you to stand in there confused and sexually frustrated. 

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You’re In Love With Him But He Likes Your Best Friend: Part 2

A/N: This is a filler chapter. Meaning, this is much shorter than part 1. Do not feel dishearted, there will be a longer, more detailed part 3. 

Part 1

Masterlist linked in bio.



“Are you ever going to speak to me?”

Y/n freezes as she hears Harry’s voice ask her the question she’s been dreading to answer.

It’s been two weeks since she’s heard that voice. It may sound rougher now, more stern and harsh than it normally is as it growls behind her at the counter of Lexi’s bar, but it’s still the first time she’s heard it in two weeks.

After her sober confessions to a very tipsy, slumberous Harry, Y/n had to understand what it truly meant to move on.

At first, she thought she would still be able to be around him as she searched for ways to rid her feelings. She distracted herself, mostly. She would interact more with Savannah than she would Harry, and even started picking up new habits whenever she felt her emotions creeping in. Anything that reminded her of him was disregarded entirely so that the only time he was able to consume her thoughts was whenever he was near her.

For the first couple weeks, she was holding up quite well, considering the circumstances. She was able to contain her emotions and take her mind off of the raging heartache that kept burning in her chest.

But it wasn’t much long after that night when Savannah and Harry finally became official, and if Y/n wasn’t anguished before, she surely was then. She was forced to witness the transition of their relationship in hindsight. What was once casual flirting and innocent touches turned into secretive giggles and loving hand gestures.

It was as if her heart broke all over again. What seemed to be almost completely mended was destructed all at once. The chase between Harry and Savannah was over, and reality set in that Harry was happy and in love with someone that wasn’t Y/n.

Watching them together was Y/n’s most devastating nightmare, and the thought of that alone meant she couldn’t mentally handle being alone anymore. With all of the emotions built up inside of her, being alone for Y/n meant enduring the pain and suffering she didn’t want to feel anymore. She just wanted it all to end, everything.

The earliest hours of the morning wrecked her the most. With only the moon illuminating the room and the radio silence throughout her house gave Y/n no choice but to be alone with her thoughts. She wasn’t loved, and no matter how many nights she’s tried to convince herself that this wasn’t the end, it was.

She had to let Harry go, completely this time. She gave up on him entirely because she couldn’t keep loving him when he didn’t love her. Not anymore, not like that.

She keeps her back to him as he heaves heavy breaths, eyes sending daggers and teeth clenched from his crippling frustration. 

“It’s Thursday, I see,” Harry grumbles before giving her the chance to answer, jaw locked as his fingers grip harshly around a stray, unfinished glass of alcohol. “You never work Thursdays. ’S this where your Friday shifts went?”

There’s an unpleasantly rough tone in his voice that makes Y/n’s breath hitch in her throat. She’s never witnessed this side of him, filled with anger and exasperation. He’s always been so soft and gentle, never having the heart to speak down to someone. But here he is, eyes dark with anger and words spewing venomously from his lips.

And as much she hates to admit it, she can’t blame him for being so angry with her. She knows she means the most to him—even if it’s not in a romantic sense—she’s become such an important part of his life. Ever since they met, she took in the truth about his past, understood the feelings and thoughts he’s carried all through his years, and was able to provide him with anything she was able to when he needed her most. She was one of the very few people he trusted and felt most comfortable with in his life. She was irreplaceable, he’d always tell her, nobody could compare to her. She meant everything.

And then, she left him. She distanced herself so far away from him until it was as if she was never apart of his life. She ignored him and all his attempts to reach out to her again. It hurt her tremendously, knowing that what they had together was completely and utterly helpless, but she never questioned how Harry felt about it. She did what was easiest for her and never thought about it twice. She left him so that he can be happy, but as he stands so tensely and confused before her, she can’t help but blame herself what’s happened between them.

She nods her head softly, still refusing to look up at him as she gathers all the used glasses in front of her, making herself seem distracted so she doesn’t have to make much effort into speaking to him.

“I—uh, yeah. Friday nights were getting hectic and I couldn’t keep up with the late hours. I thought Savannah told you.”

It’s a lie. A shitty, impulsive lie that Harry almost finds humorous. Of course, Y/n switched her Friday night shift. She felt as if she had no choice. She couldn’t bare to look at him with Savannah another goddamn second, and he thought of spending Friday nights with Harry without being alone with him and going to the 24-hour movie theater together was enough to make her sick to her stomach.

“She did,” he clicks his tongue, eyes narrowing as he watches her scramble around the bar, “didn’t have to, though. I knew she was lying.”

Y/n’s actions halt for a moment, a feeling of dread flowing in her veins before she goes back to cleaning off the bar, disregarded his statement completely.

Harry knows Y/n’s been avoiding him, she hasn’t exactly made it as subtle as she thought. Their entire friendship changed, and Harry knows he wasn’t the one ruining it.

The morning after Y/n drove Harry back from the bar, all he could really remember clearly was falling asleep with Y/n. There were other bits he remembered, but that was really the only moment that came to him when he woke up. And he was confused when he woke up alone because, in all honesty, he was looking forward to waking up next to her. It was all his drunk mind thought of, and that terrified him.

When Y/n started distancing herself from him, Harry kept wondering what he had done wrong. She was fine with Savannah, keeping up with their lives as usual. But she was different with Harry—closed off, in a way, and it made him feel something he’s never felt in his life before.

He was confused, to say the least. Because when he was kissing down the bare chest of the woman of his dreams, he couldn’t stop daydreaming about Y/n, and how he hasn’t heard her voice and how he hasn’t felt her in so long.

He had Savannah wrapped around his finger, yet he still felt as if everything about it was wrong. He changed when Y/n left him, because even when he was around the most loving company, he felt alone.

He was helpless. As much as he tried to love Savannah, Y/n was always in the back of his head. She was there, all the time, trapped in his mind with no escape route. 

At first, he was confused—upset and lost without Y/n. He didn’t know life without her would feel so lonely, so empty and incomplete. It was strange, not knowing how to live his life without her. He’d never expected her disappearance to be such a hindrance to him, but it was. Oh, how it was.

Then, he was angry—angry because as many times as he tried to get her to speak to him again, she never came back. She was gone, forever.

Now, he’s hurt. So damaged by her leaving his side, so incomplete and destroyed without her with him anymore. His heart is heavy with sadness and he couldn’t let himself feel this way anymore. 

He needs her, no matter how wrong and pathetic it sounds, he needs her. 

“So you gonna tell me why you’ve been avoiding me, or am I gonna have to force it out of you?” he seethes, nose flaring as he tries to steady his uneven breath.

Y/n shakes her head ignorantly, a flash on innocence in her eyes as she does so. But she damn knows well what he’s talking about, and her oblivion drives him crazy.

“I don’t—I don’t know what you’re talking ab—“

“Oh, fuck off with it!” Harry spits, slamming his closed fist down on the wooden counter.

He doesn’t seem to care about how sudden the bar falls silent, or the glisten of fear in Y/n’s eyes when she finally looks up at him. All he can seem to care about is how much pain he feels, all over. All he can think about is how now, after the last two weeks of not being able to understand why he cares so goddamn much, he’s finally able to feel some sense of sanity being in front of her now.

“You know what you’re doing to me, Y/n! You know damn fucking well what you’re fucking doing and—“

“Harry, please.” Y/n whispers and she isn’t sure as to whether or not she’s begging him to lower his voice or begging for him to understand.

“And it’s not fair!” he cries out, tears of frustration overflowing from his eyes as he grips tightly onto his hair.

His breaking point is approaching, he feels it. He feels it with every breath he takes and every word that emits from his mouth. His heart twists and breaks as he expresses every feeling that’s been consuming him for the past two weeks. He needs her to know what she’s doing to him, needs her to know how he feels in this moment.

“I did nothing to you and you keep pushing me away and that’s not fair because I don’t know how to live without you. Isn’t that something?! I don’t know what to do without you, and you know that!”

Suddenly, his head falls in his hands as he begins to sob. Complete heart-wrenching sobs, making his chest tight and breathing shallow.

Y/n reaches her hand out for him, her fingers clasping harshly around his wrist. Her own eyes start to brim with tears as she watches him sob below her, his body shaking with undying cries. She swallows harshly when he grabs ahold of her hand, bringing her palm against his forehead. His lips reach to kiss her wrist softly, quickly refraining from keeping them there longer.

To touch her, for the first time, is every answer he needs. She’s the only one to make him feel this way—she’s the only one to drive him to the brink of insanity and resurface him back to clarity. She has power over him he never understood until now, after he’s lost her.

“I don’t know why it hurts this much, Y/n,” He cries, his eyes squeezing shut as he inhales sharply, “I’ve never been more confused in my life.”

She chokes on her cries as she nods her head softly, her free hand reaching up to rake her fingers through his hair. Her lips shake from their craving to touch him, watching as he weakens beneath her. 

She’s missed him, in the most desperate of ways. She’s missed every part of him, and every atom in her body yearned to feel him again. Whether it was to feel the warmth of him from a distance or to feel his skin ignite her, she wanted every part of him against her. If she wasn’t with him, she was missing him, and craving him with every breath she took. 

Her lips press tentatively to his forehead, her breath fanning through his hair as she does so. The action is quick, leaving just as quickly as it comes, but it carries sentimental meaning for the both of them.

Harry frowns, his heart thumping in his chest. He looks up into her eyes, filled with concern and sanity as she maps his features.

“It’s been ever since me and Savannah got together.” He mumbles, eyes watching her face as it pales slightly at his words. “You haven’t spoken to me since.”

Her eyes flutter shut as he speaks, finding it completely pointless to try and make him believe otherwise. He deserves to know, one way or another, and even if it’s now, she feels like she’s already lost him. There isn’t much she’d be losing now, anyways. He was never hers.

“Please leave, Harry.” She whispers.

She backs away from him, her touch leaving him was like a gunshot to his chest. It’s a feeling he’s felt all too much that he can’t bare to feel again. 

His heart breaks as he watches her begin to cry, her usual glistening eyes now filled with tears of sorrow. He shakes his head, squeezing his eyes shut as he tentatively takes a step closer to her.

He’s desperate, and he doesn’t care how weak he seems. He’s desperate to see where he’s missed it all along, to know how long he’s been making her feel this way. He’ll never forgive himself for all the pain he’s caused her, for all her nights alone when all she wanted was to be with him.

He could have done so much to change this. If he had just listened to his heart from the beginning, this would all be different now. If he hadn’t been so blind, they would both be happy right now.

“Love, I—“

“Don’t.” she whispers, her voice cracking as she speaks, “Please, don’t.“

She isn’t exactly sure what she’s saying—isn’t quite sure what she’s begging him not to do. Maybe it’s the nickname he’s always called her that makes her stomach twist a bit more, or how he’s trying to make her feel better that makes her eyes sting with a fresh new wave of tears, or how he looks at her now the way he never did before that makes her throat tighten around a sob. Whatever it is that makes her beg, she can’t  handle it anymore.

“I’m trying, Y/n,” He whispers, “please.”

“Please just—“ her eyes flutter shut as she speaks, “just leave me alone.”

Harry lets out an unsteady breath, his green eyes brimmed with red as he watches her begin to sob. 

He nods, because he can’t let himself keep doing this to her. If he keeps trying with her in her current state of mind, she won’t be able to think properly. She’ll be a wreck, more so than she is now, and he can’t find it in his heart to do that. Even if it means fighting for her.

“It’s not worth it, you know.” He whispers, his eyes staring lovingly into hers, “Being with her, it’s not worth it if it means losing you.”

{PART 26} I Won’t Stop You // Jeon Jungkook, Vampire!AU

Originally posted by jengkook

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Vampire!AU, Fantasy, Angst, Smut

Summary; Jungkook attempts to do the impossible; keep Yoongi under control for as long as he can in his own Manor. But, after an unsuspecting escalation - everything ends in tears…and blood.

“How sobering it is, to love something that evil can corrupt”

  • || Warning: This chapter contains violence and some scenes that readers may find upsetting ||

I update this series every Tuesday evening, 9pm-10pm (UK Time) 

{Part 1} // {Part 25} {Part 26} {Part 27}

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Whiteboard. Destiel, canon!verse, 1.3k. 
When you fail to say the words, there’s always the option to write it down.

For a while now, there has been a whiteboard in Dean’s room.

Cas often sees Dean use it; to organize clues for cases that he and Sam can’t quite solve, and to write down reminders, or to simply rearrange his thoughts. And, on rare occasions, to draw silly doodles to help him get his mind off of whatever supernatural disaster is next on the agenda.

Currently, aforementioned board is empty though, and Cas stares a hole in it, sitting on Dean’s bed, arms wrapped around his knees, his chin resting on his hands. Dean is there too, right beside him, lying on the other side of the bed, his back to Castiel, his shoulders tense. There might as well be some sort of invisible wall between them, and Cas absolutely hates it. Hates it whenever they fight like this, and what makes it even worse is that Dean refuses to talk. Whenever they have an argument he’ll snap at Castiel, once maybe twice, but after that, it’s usually the silent treatment.

And it makes Castiel feel powerless every time, because how can you fix something when you don’t even get a chance to plead your case?

Dean isn’t sleeping, Cas can tell from his breathing, harsh and uneven. Which must mean that Dean doesn’t like this either, and just like that, inspiration strikes.

“Dean?” Cas mutters quietly, but not unkindly.

A grunt from the other side of the bed.

“I know you’re angry, I know you’d rather not talk, but I thought that maybe…” Castiel pauses, trying to figure out which words to choose. “I thought that maybe we could write it down.”

There’s a huff from Dean, and Cas doesn’t know what to make of that, but he refuses to give up now. Slowly, he gets up from the bed, shuffling towards the whiteboard. He picks up one of the markers, a blue one, and starts writing.

He hears Dean move on the bed, probably getting up as well, and that’s what Cas had been counting on; Dean’s curiosity getting the best of him.

When Cas is done he puts down the marker, his eyes scanning the message one last time.

‘I apologize for what I did yesterday, I’m sorry I went after those rogue angels by myself without telling you. I didn’t want you to get dragged into my problems, and I feared it wasn’t safe for you to come with me. Which you would have, had I told you before I left.’

He hears a muffled sigh behind him, and he’s surprised to see Dean already standing right there. Dean rolls his eyes as he reads the message, but his face relaxes, and the green of his eyes is softer now. After a long moment, he theatrically picks up a marker as well, the green one, giving Castiel that face that says 'do we really have to do this?’

But Dean does it anyway, and writes a reply, the Dean Winchester way that Cas knows so well.

'I want you to drag me into your problems, you idiot, it’s not like I don’t drag you into mine. PS: you forgot to apologize for the part where you almost got killed. PPS: fine, apology accepted. Don’t ever do that again.’

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Space Heater

Summary: When the heater goes out, you’re left freezing and unable to get warm. Luckily, Bucky might be able to help that.

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 1838

Warnings: none (unless you count being very cold), just fluffy, cuddly goodness!

A/N: AHHH I’m back!! This is my first crack at writing fanfic in like 4 months since I’ve been on hiatus, but I’m excited to get writing again! I wanted to come back with a fluffy one-shot (since those are relatively easy), so here you guys go! As always, I hope you enjoy!

Originally posted by apocryphalstories

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Imagine being Dean’s daughter and announcing to him that you are dating Jack.

“Him?” Dean’s rough voice broke the heavy silence that had set between the two of you “You are dating him?” he all-but-growled as he stared deeply in your eyes.

“Well, I- I wouldn’t say exactly dating yet, he’s not that familiar with the term and I’m-”

“Yet?!” Dean exclaimed, his voice coming slightly high-pitched “Yet? You mean this will keep going on?!”

“Well, yes dad of course it is!” you huffed, rolling your eyes “That’s why I am telling you, because this is actually important to me. And maybe Jack doesn’t quite understand the terms yet but I know that his feelings are real, that all of this between him and I is real as well.”

“Which again brings me back to my original question: Him?!” he looked at you with so much shock it made you groan and cross your arms over your chest.

“Will you try to be a little less surprised, please? I thought you’d be a little less shocked at your daughter-”

“Dating the son of Lucifer? Oh yeah!” he cut you off full of sarcasm and a hint of angst “Why the hell would I ever mind that (Y/n)?!”

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his little princess / draco malfoy

WARNING: DADDY DRACO FEELS THAT COULD POSSIBLY KILL YOU

p.s. I’m most likely going to write a part 2 before any of you ask. ;)

word count// 2,351

Originally posted by thatfunnyweirdindiechick

December the seventh had been the due date for your little pink bundle.

Three days had slipped by and every second of those very long days felt excruciating to endure. You were a little over forty weeks pregnant and more uncomfortable than ever. Sleep was near to impossible and the immense amount of fatigue only worsened every other thing you felt. The baby’s kicks were quite strong and you couldn’t seem to enjoy them as much as you had near the start of the pregnancy. To top it all off, Draco was more protective than ever and any little moan or whimper that escaped from you made him spring into action. Irritability had become your number one symptom and your main target was Draco.

It was December the eleventh, the start of the fourth day after your due date. You woke up to minor contractions, but it didn’t get your hopes up since you had been experiencing them daily. You had slept a grand total of three hours and lied awake in bed, a hand resting on your large belly full of at least eight pounds of baby. The red letters on the clock read 5:45 and it remained dark outside, the bedroom’s only form of light being from the clock.

Rain hit the glass windows and roof, creating a soothing melody as you stared up at the ceiling. Draco’s arm lie around your waist and his large, vein filled hand rested on your belly. His steady breath washed over the back of your bare neck and the stray hairs from your tousled bun tickled your skin as he breathed out. You melted back into his warm chest, your palm going to rest on top of his and your fingers slotted between his against the material of your long-sleeved shirt. The contractions were continuing to plague your body and although they were spaced apart and fairly minor, they were still a bit painful. The only place you felt content was with Draco.

A swift and harsh kick to your ribs from the culprit in your belly caused you to suck in a sharp breath, your eyes screwing shut in discomfort. The little girl inside you hit the same spot where yours and Draco’s hands lie and your muscles tensed as he stirred behind you. A soft hum vibrated his chest and his arm tightened around your waist, his palm lightly squeezing your stomach in acknowledgment of the unborn child’s kicks. He pushed himself up on his forearm when you shifted uncomfortably, your ribs aching and a small contraction pulsated through your lower abdomen.

“Contractions again, sweetheart?” He asked gently and ran his fingers over your swollen stomach.

Sighing at his comforting touch, your head bobbed up and down on the pillow. “Yeah,” you breathed meekly and smiled weakly up at the concerned face of your husband. “But I’m fine. They’re still not strong and irregular.”

Draco moved his hand up to your flushed cheeks and brushed away a few sweaty strands of hair. Your hot flashes had only worsened as you progressed in the pregnancy and it was embarrassing to sweat without having done anything. He didn’t seem to think anything of it, but you felt like an unattractive beached whale.

His fingers never ceased in stroking your hair and you smiled tiredly when his lips pressed to your forehead. “Do you need anything, love?” He murmured against your skin. “I can get you some tea or make some breakfast.”

“I need you to cuddle me,” You moaned and shifted onto the side facing him. Your face burrowed into his t-shirt clad chest and you breathed him in, feeling completely at ease by his side. He made the discomfort and pain you felt bearable.

Chuckling, Draco brought you in flush to him and he heard your muffled giggles at your bump getting in the way. He smiled lovingly at you, his ice colored irises drinking in the tired smile on your face. Your hair was wildly tousled from tossing and turning all night, your skin was free of any cosmetic product and the pregnancy glow still radiated from you as it did in the beginning. He had never imagined himself to be lying in bed with the love of his life tangled against him and he didn’t quite understand how you had fallen in love with him, but he was sure as hell glad you had.

You tilted your head further back to meet his eyes just as you experienced yet another kick from the babe inside you. It was much softer and less of a karate chop to your ribs than the previous kick. Draco felt the gentle jab in his side since your belly was pressed to him as close as physically possible and you smiled when he slid your shirt up, revealing the large baby bump. You had acquired some stretch marks, but he paid them no mind and lowered his head to talk to her like you knew he adored doing.

“Hey baby girl,” Draco cooed in the gentlest tone he could manage. His fingertips danced along your bare bump and you admired the adoring smile on his face when she kicked at the sound of his voice. “It’s Daddy. Again.”

“She’s probably tired of hearing your voice, my love,” You teased and ran your fingers through his blonde locks.

“Shush,” He said and shot you a warning look that made you giggle. “Don’t listen to Mummy, princess. She’s mean to Daddy and—Oi!”

You had smacked his head and tried to stifle your laughter his messy hair. “Don’t tell our daughter that, Draco!” You scolded.

“Anyway,” Draco said and lowered his lips to your bump again. He brushed them along the stretched skin, a mark brandishing the once smooth flesh on your stomach, and goose bumps arose on your belly as he kissed it softly. “You like keeping Mummy and Daddy waiting, don’t you? We’re ready to meet you, princess.”

The clock ticked over to 6:00 and you shut your eyes for a mere second, taking in the soft sounds of the rain hitting the glass window. You had barely been submerged into darkness for a millisecond when you felt a gushing sensation between your legs as if you had peed on yourself, but you knew full well that it had not been that.

On December eleventh, the fourth day after your due date, your water had broken and labor begun.

Panic. Unshakable panic fell upon the house, capturing Draco in its claws. It seemed as though the split second your water broke and you pulled your very pregnant self from the bed, the contractions began to grow ever so slightly stronger. As your nose scrunched up in discomfort and your digits yanked your shirt over your stomach again, Draco caught every grimace of pain and he felt his body frozen to the bed. His eyes were glued onto your face and he watched as your hands came to rest just above your hips, riding the contraction out until it descended to nothing.

“Your water broke which means you’re in labor,” Draco said slowly, the words slowly seeping into his brain and when they did, the panic settled in further. “Bloody hell, you’re in labor!

You couldn’t help but giggle and take his hands in yours, pulling him from the king sized mattress. Your fingers traced over his knuckles soothingly and you tilted your head back, your y/e/c irises twinkling as they gazed into his icy blue ones. “I suppose baby girl heard you and decided to surprise you, my love,” You murmured and grinned.

He gaped down at your smaller frame before pulling you to him, his arms wrapped around you and his hands rested on your waist. The large baby bump pressed between you two and he kissed your forehead multiple times, the burning of tears already blurring his vision. “I’m about to be a Dad,” He mumbled shakily into your neck and you held him tighter as he shook slightly in your grasp.

A gentle, subtle smile pulled at the corners of your lips. The pads of your fingers ran along his back and you pulled back to kiss his forehead. “You’re going to be amazing, Draco,” You hummed softly and felt like crying yourself at his soft, adoring expression. “Now, I’m kind of in labor so we should go to the hospital.”

“Right.” Draco heaved a sigh and blew it out heavily. “You’re in bloody labor. Oh, merlin.”


Seconds trickled by, turning into minutes and following with hours. You had gotten decked out in the hideous hospital gown and the IV’s had been stuck into your veins. Nurses came and went, checking your progress along with an occasional monitor of the baby’s heartbeat or asking if you needed anything. You had dilated to a four and the contractions had gotten closer together, much stronger, and more painful. The whimpers leaving your mouth only worried Draco more and if you weren’t in immense amounts of pain, you would’ve been slightly amused.

Your eyes screwed shut in discomfort and a soft whimper fell upon Draco’s ears as he stood at your bedside, stroking his pale fingers through your hair and along your perspired forehead. He hated seeing you in pain and there was not a thing in the world he could do to make it better. He did all he knew to do and that was to make you as comfortable as possible.

Draco bent down to your level and kissed your head gingerly, his right hand clutching yours. “You’re almost halfway, love,” He cooed softly and brushed the pesky hairs out of your face. “You’re doing so good, taking those contractions like a champ.”

Blowing out an intake of air, you pushed a weak smile up at him. “I think labor is kicking my ass, but thanks Draco.”

He chuckled. “I’m not even the one in labor and its kicking my ass more than yours.”

You giggled and rose up against the pillows to peck his lips. You squeezed his hand, grinning, and said, “You’re taking labor like a champ, babe. I promise.”

“I think I’m supposed to be telling you that.”


A mere two hours prior, you had been at four centimeters dilated and gotten the epidural. Ten centimeters came in the blink of an eye and the time to push was upon you before your brain could process it. The hospital room was in a flurry of nurses and doctors prepping for delivery, the spotlights had been switched on, and your legs were positioned to deliver your baby girl. With a pounding heart and your belly flipping with nerves, Draco grasped your right hand firmly and murmured comforting words into your ear through the chaotic events unfolding rapidly.

“Alright, Mrs. Malfoy,” The doctor exclaimed from the end of the hospital bed. “It’s time to push.”

With a fleeting glance into your husband’s stormy irises and the distant sound of nurses reassuring you, you tucked your chin to your chest and pushed. A strangled cry elicited from your mouth as one of the nurses counted up to ten and you pushed through until she reached ten before sucking in a deep breath, dropping your head to the pillow. Draco stroked your hair and continuously peppered kisses on the top of your head or on the slightly dampened skin of your forehead.

“M’so proud of you, my love,” He hummed into your ear.

“I love you, but we’re never having another baby after this,” You huffed, already exhausted from one push.

Draco chortled. “Whatever you say, darling.”

“Push, Mrs. Malfoy!”

For the second time, you tucked your chin in, took a deep breath, and pushed as hard as possible because you wanted that baby out. The pressure and burning sensation began to intensify and after a mere few moments rest after the second push, you were going again. After a total of five pushes, the little baby girl was out and loud crying filled the hospital room. The moment your eyes laid on the doctor holding your baby, wiping her off a bit, tears spilled over onto your cheeks and you looked up at Draco. A small cry left your mouth at the sight of his eyes glistening with tears of his own and he stooped over to kiss your lips repeatedly, the taste of salty tears into the kiss.

“I love you so much,” He whispered and wiped the wet streaks on your cheeks.

“I love you too,” You sniffled.

The doctor placed your baby onto your chest, a blanket draped over the naked newborn and her little cries lessened to whimpers. You sunk your teeth into your lip, holding back a fresh wave of tears, and placed one of your hands on her head and the other on her tiny back. You pressed your lips to the top of her head and traced your fingertips along her back, soothing her whimpers to nothing.

Draco gazed at his two girls in awe. The tiny glimpse into you as a mother had already taken his breath away and he could feel himself falling deeper into the pit of love he held for you. Very carefully, he brought his hand to the pink cheek of his little girl and drug his finger along the soft skin as if it were porcelain. Never had he seen a more beautifully ethereal thing in the entire world than the bundle that lie on your chest. She had only been in the world for a few minutes and he was already enthralled. He was so in love with the tiny human he had created with you.

“My little princess,” He hummed gently and never ceased his finger against her small cheek. “She’s so beautiful, Y/N.”

“Of course she is.” You giggled. “She’s your daughter.”

“I think it’s the other way around, my love,” Draco said adoringly.

Your cheeks flushed and you sighed in content, the babe on your chest stirring before falling still again. “Freya Leigh Malfoy, already stealing hearts at a few minutes old.”

“That’s my girl.”

Give me a break.

Hii! I know it’s been forever since I wrote something and I’m very sorry. There’s been so much on my mind lately and so many things that made me feel overwhelmed and I just needed to sort it out. This is kind of very loosely based on ‘Love me or leave me’ by Little Mix because someone requested it. I hope you like it. I plan on writing a second part.xxx

“Well, maybe I don’t fucking care anymore!”
It seemed like his booming voice made the whole house vibrate. It seemed like it cut right through Y/N. His words felt like he took a knife and rammed it into her heart and to top it all off he twisted it slowly so the pain had time to spread.
These last weeks felt like nothing but pain for her. He was never home and even when he was he somehow wasn’t. She let him in and he pushed her away. He pushed her so far away she couldn’t feel him anymore.
“Why are you still here then!?”
She had had enough. If he didn’t care anymore he could walk out the door and never come back.
Harry scoffed, turned around and walked up the stairs. When he slammed the bedroom door shut Y/N could feel the last bit of connection between them slipping away completely.
It’s never been this harsh. They slammed doors and yelled hurtful things before but it’s never been like this. Somehow this felt final.
She didn’t know how it happened, how everything between them began to crumble. But it did.
She didn’t feel his loving touch in at least three months. She didn’t hear his loving words in at least three months.
They fought almost every day and when they didn’t fight they didn’t talk to each other at all. Mornings were spent alone and cold, both waking up at their own times without a good morning kiss or a cuddle or anything at all. Nights were even worse. They went to sleep in the same bed but facing away from each other. They never solved their problems before bed. They broke their rule every single night and went to bed angry.
And even though right now Y/N might think it would be better if their paths would part she also knew she wouldn’t recover from it. Harry was the love of her life. She knew she could never be happy without him.
And so she broke down. Ugly sobs and fat tears. The whole weight of the last few months finally got too much and she couldn’t take it anymore. She was sure she’s never cried this much in her entire life. She was sure she never felt so hurt but numb at the same time before.
She didn’t know what the hell went wrong. What she did to push him away. What she did that made him stop loving her.
He doesn’t love you anymore.
Those were the words that constantly replayed in her head, after every fight.
He hates me.
She couldn’t find another explanation. That was the only reason she could think of as to why he wasn’t interested in fixing things between them.

When she met him she was sure he was the most wonderful person she’s ever met. He looked at her as if she was the most important thing on earth. He cooked the most delicious dinner for her. He held doors for her. He made her laugh and feel appreciated.
When she really got to know him she was knocked off her feet. He was the most gentle and loving man she could have ever imagined. He was there for her. He was the place she ran to when the world overwhelmed her. He was her happy place. Her home.
When things got a bit rough they stuck together. They were a team. They faced everything together and fought through it.
Y/N was the happiest girl ever. She thought she found her forever. Her happily ever after.
Until the perfect relationship began to change into great, then good, then normal and then…
Into whatever they had now.
She couldn’t take it anymore. And the worst thing was that there was no way out of this hell. They can’t go back to where they’ve once been. And parting ways? No fucking way could she survive without him.

It was three hours and twenty tissues later when Harry finally exited the bedroom and came down the stairs. Y/N was standing in front of the big living room window which had a view over what seemed like half of London. Her back was turned to Harry, her hair messy and her frame slightly shaking.
She knew that whatever would come now would change everything. She knew that they reached a point were something had to happen. Anything.
Harry took a deep breath and took the last few step towards her. Y/N closed her eyes when she felt his warmth. She hadn’t felt it in so long.
When he reached his hand out thread his fingers through hers she flinched. Harry could feel his heart breaking at her reaction to his touch. He closed the gap between them and pressed his chest flush against her back. That’s when Y/N started to cry again. Her whole body shook with the force of her tears and the whimpers and sobs seemed to get louder with every passing second.
“Shhh.” Harry tried to calm her and finally wrapped his arms around her from behind.
He nuzzled his face into her neck where she always smelled so good and that’s when he realized how long he hasn’t done that.
Y/N moved her arms so she could intertwine both her hands with his. She didn’t remember the last time she held his hand. She used to love his hands so much, always playing with his fingers and kissing his knuckles.
Harry kept pressing tiny kisses to her shoulder and squeezed her tighter to him every time a whimper left her lips.
They stood like that for at least ten minutes before Y/N turned around in his arms and hugged him again. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders, his hands stroking softly over her back while her hands were fisting his shirt. She couldn’t get close enough. She needed him closer. Her hands wandered down underneath his shirt to touch his skin. Harry shuddered when her cold hands touched his skin but he knew she needed this. She hasn’t felt his skin in forever. It almost felt foreign.

When they finally pulled away from each other both of them were scared to let go. This couldn’t be it. They needed each other.
“We have to talk, Harry.” she whispered and pressed her forehead against his.
“I know, my love.”
My love. Was she still his love?
She thought he hated her.
They sat down at the kitchen table across from each other. Both of them couldn’t be fast enough to reach out for each other again and when their hands bumped against each other they both laughed softly. For the first time in months.
None of them wanted to be the first to say anything. Until Harry finally couldn’t take the silence anymore.
“I didn’t mean anything that I said earlier. Or… in the last few weeks. God, what is happening with us?”
“I don’t know, Harry. But it can’t keep going like this. I can’t take it anymore.”
“Me neither, love. I know I didn’t show how much it was affecting me but I want you to know that I feel just as broken as you do.”
Broken. Is that what they’ve become?
“I… I thought you hated me. During all these times you pulled away or turned your back towards me, I thought you hated me.”
Harry’s free hand reached out to hers so he could clasp her hand in both of his.
“I never ever hated you. Not for a second. And I never will.”
Y/N felt like a huge weight was lifted from her shoulders and she felt like she could breath again.
“I love you so much, darling.” Harry whimpered.
Her head snapped up so she could look at him and when she saw tears running down his cheek she reached over the table to wipe them away.
“I love you too, Harry. So much.”
Harry removed her hand from his face and pressed gentle kiss to ever knuckle.
“What are we going to do, love? I want to fix this. I want to go back to being the happiest couple ever. I want to go back to being happy with each other.”
“Me too, Harry. God, I’d do everything to get back to what we once had.”
They stared into each other’s eyes until Y/N cleared her throat and diverted her eyes to the table.
“I-I think we need a break.”
Harry’s whole world stopped in that moment. His mouth fell open and his brows furrowed. He pulled his hands from hers and a breathless ‘no’ left his lips.
“No.” He repeated after a moment.
“No way.”
“Harry, listen. I-”
“No!” he shouted.
Y/N flinched and her ears began to ring like every time he raised his voice at her. Her eyes closed and tears began to dribble down her cheeks.
“Do you think I’m stupid? I know exactly what’s going to happen when we do that. You’re going to realize just how unhappy I make you and that you are so sick and tired of me and you’ll never come back. Or you’ll find someone else who makes you laugh more than I ever did. God, I’m going to be gone for two weeks for promo. Is that not enough distance and space for you?!“
“Harry, I need time okay? I need time to take care of myself. I need time for sorting things out. I need time so that this all can work again and if you’re honest, you need it too.”
He laughed humorlessly and crossed his arms over his chest.
“You will have that time when I’m gone.”
“I-I don’t think two weeks are going to be enough.”
His eyes caught hers and she swore she’s never seen him look at her like that. So sad but angry at the same time.
“L-Longer?”
“Two weeks are nothing, Harry.”
“There’s been times when you couldn’t go a single day without me. There’s been times where two weeks without each other seemed like the end of the world.”
She closed her eyes and tried to control the tears which constantly blurred her sight.
“I don’t think we can sort anything out in two weeks.”
“I don’t think we can sort anything out when we’re away from each other.”
“Harry, please.”
He closed his eyes briefly and sighed.
“How long?”
“T-Two months?”
“No fucking way!”
This time it was Y/N’s turn to sigh.
“Harry, I-”
“One month. And not a single day longer.”
She caught his eyes for a moment before she nodded.
“Alright.”
They sat in silence for several minutes, both didn’t know what to say.
“I-I thought I’d stay in a hotel for the two weeks before you’re gone and then I’ll come back.”
“No.”
“Harry,-”
“No. Please, I-… I want to know you’re safe. You’ll stay here and I’ll stay with Gemma.”
“If that’s okay with you.”
“No, it’s actually not.”
She looked at him with the saddest eyes he ever saw and he shook his head and and sighed.
“I’m gonna go pack some stuff and then you won’t have to deal with me anymore.”
“Harry, I did not suggest a break because I want to get away from you as quickly as possible. I want to fix this. And I feel like some distance is the only way to sort things out. Or at least make the first step.”
He didn’t say anything but just left the kitchen and went upstairs to pack a few things. For some reason Y/N couldn’t help but feel guilty. Of course she knew he wouldn’t be happy with taking a break, she wasn’t either. But she hoped he could at least understand where she came from.

When he came down the stairs half an hour later with two big duffle bags Y/N almost felt like crying again. She watched him, how he placed them beside the front door, wiped his tears away, took a deep breath and turned around to make his way to the kitchen so he could say goodbye but she was already standing in the foyer. They stared at each other for a few moments before Harry cleared his throat and removed a greasy strand of hair from his face.
“I’ll go now, I guess.”
“Yeah.” Y/N nodded and sniffled.
He looked at her for another few seconds before he let out a frustrated sigh.
“Can I at least get a hug?”
He saw the surprise on her face but she nodded anyway and took the last few steps towards him. She slung her arms tightly around his neck and pressed her body tightly to his and Harry wrapped his arms around her waist and squeezed her to his chest. He pressed kisses to her shoulder and neck and stroked over her back in gentle patterns.
When they pulled away a bit Y/N reached up to cup his cheeks and stroke over his skin.
“I love you. Nothing changed about that and nothing is going to change. I don’t want you to worry about me breaking up with you. I couldn’t imagine life without you.”
Harry pressed his forehead to hers and pulled her body even closer.
“Will you say goodbye when I’ll leave for New York? Don’t think I could leave without seeing you before.”
“I’ll think about it, okay?”
Harry sighed but nodded.
“C-Can I kiss you?” he asked her in a whisper.
She leaned in and connected her lips to his as an answer, his bottom lip slipping between hers. She kissed him four times before she pulled away a bit to look up at him again.
“I love you. You know that, right?”
She nodded and smiled softly at him.
“I love you, too.”
Harry gazed into her eyes for another few seconds before he pressed a few gentle kisses against her lips again. He pulled away from her then and took his duffle bags.
“I’ll let you know when I’ll leave for New York. You can call me or come over anytime you need, okay?”
“Okay. You can come over or call as well. Even if it’s the middle of the night.”
He nodded and opened the door.
“Take care, yeah?”
“You too, love.”
“I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
And just like that he left.

Angry Words

Pairings: Chris Evans x Reader

Warnings: Fighting, nasty name calling, swearing, angst - It has a super fluffy ending though !!

Word Count: 1930

Summary: You’re mad, Chris is mad, but he doesn’t want to go to bed angry.

A/N: Enjoy!! 


“Can you stop being so immature about this?!” Chris explodes from behind you, reaching out his hand to catch the door you just tried slamming in his face, his blue eyes flashing with frustration.

You scoff, storming further into the house as you reef your jacket off your shoulders, flinging it onto the couch as you pass. It hangs haphazardly off the edge, half on the floor but you can’t be bothered fixing it up.
“Oh I’m sorry,” You snap instead. “Should I be more understanding about running into your ex girlfriend at your Mother’s birthday party?”

“Yes!” Chris replies angrily, taking off his jacket also, but hanging it neatly on the hooks by the door. “I told you a hundred times already that I didn’t know she was going to be there, It isn’t my fault she was invited!”
“No,” You agree with a huff, reaching down to pull off your heels, keeping them in your hand in case you need to use it as a makeshift weapon. “But letting her hang all over you is very much your fault!”

“She wasn’t hanging all over me y/n,” Chris exclaims, running his fingers back up into his hair. “We were just catching up that’s all!”
You throw your hands up by your sides, turning back to face him. “So she wasn’t practically sitting in your lap while you caught up?

The image of Chris’ hands on his ex’s hips while she drapes her arms around his neck is imprinted into your mind, cruelly reminding you of how much he loved this woman at one point in his life. There is no escaping the painful, gut wrenching feeling of seeing them together; Scott having let it slip that before their breakup Chris was thinking of asking her to marry him, going so far as to already having the ring. Try as you might you couldn’t forget something like that.

“It wasn’t like I invited her to sit there!” The veins in the side of Chris’ neck are becoming more prominent the longer this fight goes on, his hands balled into fists by his side and his face flushed. He was getting more and more frustrated over the fact you just wouldn’t let this go.
“You should have pushed her off! Or at least told her you were with someone.”
“I tried to!”
“That isn’t good enough Chris!”
“No, of course it isn’t!” Chris laughs humorlessly, letting his hands fall flat to his side. “Nothing’s ever good enough for you.”

His response catches you off guard, your shoes falling from your hands, clattering noisily on the wood floor as you stare at him, all anger temporarily subsiding.
“Excuse me?” You finally manage to stutter out. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?!”
“It means,” He starts stalking towards you, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt as he does so. “You’re a goddamn bitch y/n, who expects our relationship to be exactly what you want all the time and when I god forbid do something you don’t like you throw a temper tantrum like a child!”

Keep reading

Sweet Punishment (M)

Im Jaebum | JB (Got7) x Reader 

Word Count: 5845

Genre: Smut [DaddyDom/Submissive Relationship]

“Are you serious?” Jaebum asked incredulously, eyes wide.

“Yes, I am,” You responded confidently, “and you are not going to do anything about it. Are you, Daddy?”


The car was heavy with tension as you sat a red light, the clock nearing midnight, and you felt as though your body was buzzing with electricity. Jaebum’s presence felt heavy and suffocating next to you. All you wanted to do was reach across the center console and make contact with any open skin you could get your fingers on. You needed to feel him, and if you didn’t soon you were sure you would combust. But, with the way you acted at dinner you knew better than to touch him. You were “in trouble” as he put it. You scoffed at the thought.

“What is so funny over there?” Jaebum asked, turning his head for you for a second before returning his eyes to the road.

“Oh, nothing is funny over here,” You replied.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Can i ask for the paladins and Allura's reactions to Alien!Reader losing control and going berserk during a fight against the Galra or another alien race, and they try to calm them down? Bonus if they manage to stop them and they star to cry after realizing what happened?

Shiro:

“(Y/N)!” Shiro desperately called out to you. His human hand’s fingers shook desperately, clenching into a fist, then releasing again. “(Y/N)!” He repeated, eyebrows furrowing, his body trembling. “Please listen to me!”. The fight against the Ofnalians had been long and gruelling, but after one of them had laid a hand on you – something… happened.

But now the battle was over, yet you still stood there, shaking with fury, (E/C) eyes blazing with a fire that couldn’t seem to be quelled. Shiro reached out a hand towards you, attempting to touch you on the shoulder. You quickly turned around to him with your arm raised, ready to attack him.

He expertly intercepted you, merely grabbing your arm with his Galra hand. Strong, and firm, his grip felt intrusive, but safe. You both stood there, staring at each other, gasping for breaths. Tears welled up in your eyes, as you inhaled, and exhaled, and inhaled-

“(Y/N)!”

Keith:

“What is going on with you?!” Keith gasped furiously, clutching his arm which you’d just mindlessly scraped with your claws, leaving a shallow gash.

“(Y/N), please stop – you’re scaring me. I need you to stop!” He pleaded desperately, greyish violet eyes sparkling with tears. You stood there, facing him, as if you were frozen in time. You could feel his desperation, as you desperately tried to claw yourself back to reality. You felt like you were drowning, yet you’d never felt more like yourself than you do right now.

“(Y/N), I get it. It – it happens to me to. You just need to ground yourself.” He could see your eyes wildly scanning the area, your mind hardly processing his words.

“I’m here. I’m here, I promise. It’s okay.”

Hunk:

Firm and gentle arms wrapped around you and soft fingers delicately ran through your rough and matted hair. Your skin was blotchy and clammy. You looked down at your shaking hands – they were almost translucent. You could see every bone, every vein, in stark and worrying detail. You couldn’t remember anything, you couldn’t remember anything except for…

Screaming.

Screaming and shouting, many of these sounds emerged from your own throat, but many of them had emerged from the carnage scattered around your immediate area. What had you done? Oh God, what had you done?

Hunk rested his chin on your head, and you found comfort and safety in his presence. This was all you needed. Safety.

“It’s over now.” He said, in a wavering voice. “It’s okay, (Y/N).” You took a deep, shuddering breath. “We’ll get you back to the castle ship, and get you all fixed up. It’ll be fine.”

And in that moment, you really believed him. You really believed that everything would be okay.

Lance:

“(Y/N!)” He screamed out in near agony. You could hear his footsteps rushing to your side, as you lay on the floor, exhaustion taking over every part of your body. You could remember every single detail. You could smell Galra blood, and hear circuits fizzing from across the room. Damaged sentries surely littered the floor, as did…

You didn’t want to think about that.

Your skin was still glowing, and the cool air was harsh on your scrapes, cuts and bruises, though you’d done more damage than you’d received.

Cool, quivering arms wrapped around you, and you looked up only to be faced with Lance’s concerned face, with tears running down.

You didn’t want him to touch you. He couldn’t be touching you, not while you were still like this. He’d seen what you’d done to all the Galra soldiers – why wasn’t he afraid of you?

“Oh God, (Y/N), I saw what happened, I’m so sorry, I should’ve helped, I should’ve been there.“ He garbled out in between sobs. You could see the fear in his eyes, but your view of him was quickly blurred by your own tears.

What had you done?

Pidge:

You could hear something faint behind you. Someone calling out to you.

“(Y/N!)” That sound was familiar, that voice was familiar. But it wasn’t familiar enough. It was strange and alien to you, and it couldn’t reach you. You were too far gone, but you were doing right. You were doing everything right. You were meant to be beating up the bad guys, weren’t you? The Pavonite at the end of your arms seemed to think so, with the head lolling off to the left side, and the eyes glazed over.

“(Y/N)! Please stop it – it’s over!” The voice called out again. But no, it wasn’t over. But everything was too loud, the screams and shouts echoed around the landscape, but then…

But then it was over, there was silence. The only sounds were the gasping sobs of the voice. You turned around, only to be confronted by Pidge’s bloodied face and desperate hazel eyes.

“It’s over. You went… I don’t- I don’t know what happened…”

You turned back around, looking into your hands. There was a Pavonite at the end of them, bloodied, and gory, and… dead. Oh God, had you done this?

You turned to Pidge, desperately seeking some kind of comfort as tears poured down your face, and you produced large gulping sobs.

You were me with open arms. Shaking brutally, but open.

Your small frame was wracked with large gulping sobs, as Pidge ran her fingers through your hair. ”Shh, Shh, it’s all okay, it’s all okay, I promise.”

Allura:

You heard Allura coming before you saw her – those light and delicate footsteps rushed towards your hiding place. You could hear her breathing heavily and frantically, as if she’d run all throughout the castle trying to find you.

Your hands still shook, still blotchy and blue. There were holes in your clothes were spikes had popped out (And since retracted), and your eyes glowed a bright yellow still. You’d caught sight of yourself in one of the shiny chrome surfaces of the castle, and out of desperation, you’d punched it, leaving a dent in the wall, stained with violet blood from your knuckles.

Allura almost ran right past you, but she caught you out of the corner of her eye. “(Y/N)?” She whispered, in an almost quizzical tone, it was as if she didn’t recognise you. You didn’t balme her – you looked like a monster.

“What happened?” She whispered cautiously, crouching down next to you, reaching out a hand to meet yours. You quickly snatched it away, looking away from her. “I- I don’t remember. I’m sorry.”

Allura looked shocked at this relevation, but her face quickly softened into a sad smile.

“It’s okay.” She whispered, and you shook your head furiously. “It’s not okay!” You desperately pleaded with her, trying to make her understand.

“I went into some kind of… Monster mode? I’m still in bloody monster mode.” You lamented, ashamed of your situation.

Allura nodded slowly, and reached for your hand again, entwining it with her elegant fingers.

“It’ll be alright.” She said in a smooth and confident voice, and in that moment, you really believed it would be.

~ mod pidge 👽

never enough (TKST one shot)

A/N: hello lovelies! here is a little blurb i wrote based on a prompt about post-VMAs sex with Shawn in his suit. that suit was hella hot so yeah, i couldn’t resist. this is a twist on that request and it takes place in the TKST universe, some time in the future of  their timeline! enjoy!! 

You didn’t go to the show with him because this thing you’ve got is still so fresh. Only a handful of people know, some of his friends and family, and some of yours, and it’s still too new to go public. You’re both still learning each other, even though you feel so easily comfortable with him already. 

But that just makes you want to protect this thing you’ve got with him from prying eyes even more, because you’ve never had anything quite like it. It’s safe but electric, surprises you yet comforts you. It’s never the same, but he always feels familiar to you for some reason. 

You think you could maybe love him. You just need time. And that means privacy, too. 

Keep reading

The Last All-Clear (8)

Notes from Mod Bonnie

  • This story is a series following the premise: Imagine if Jamie travelled through the stones, but instead of finding Claire in Boston he found himself having arrived years too early, when the War was still happening and Claire had yet to meet him… What would he do?”
  • A wee bit o’ mixing of showverse and bookverse details, hope ye dinna mind. 

Previously:

(Part 1) September 17, 1942: A Rusty Nail

(Part 2) December 3, 1942: Comb and Glove

(Part 3) 1943: Blood and Whisky | (Part 4) 1943-1944: Gifts and Ends

(Part 5) June, 1944: The Road | (Part 6) June, 1944: The Ditch  

(Part 7) Samhain, 1946: Inverness |


(8) April 16, 1948: The Hill 


The first time I went through the stones, there had been no sense to it, no words, no meaning. Unprepared as I had been, my mind had stayed four steps behind my body, completely incapable of processing the experience until it was long over, leaving even now only a vague impression, that of hurtling through an insidious, shrieking darkness. That senselessness had been a blessing, I now knew, no matter how terrible the experience itself had been. This time…

This time, it was like one of those horror-story medical cases where the anesthesia doesn’t fully take effect, where—unbeknownst to anyone— the patient is conscious and feels every single agony…. but is unable to move or scream or even blink.  

This time, I could feel everything, see everything as it happened, and yet I was completely powerless to move, to speak as I bled out, was torn apart. This time, there was no distraction, no senseless oblivion, no blessed, rushing current of time to speed the torture. There was only the truth, sharp and vicious, a thousand knife blades tearing through my flesh as I fell: 

Jamie

Jamie is gone

Jamie is dead


Then the world broke apart, and I was falling through real air toward real grass… and into Jamie’s arms. 


“Oh, thank God,” I moaned. My knees buckled, the crippling blow of sudden relief too much for my body to withstand, but Jamie kept me from falling. Jamie. My fingers scrabbled to hold him tighter, to convince myself he was real. Jamie. Thank — God — !” 

You’re here,” he was gasping back, hands frantic, his cheek wet against my forehead. “You’re—here—You’re you!” 

It hadn’t worked. Praise be to God and all the saints for all of eternity, the stones hadn’t worked. They’d spat me right back out at Jamie’s feet. 

“Jamie ” 

This man—This kind, gentle, powerful, caring man….My husband…

Mo chridhe….” 

Abject relief and even the sensory comfort of him vanished as reality roared back in. “Jamie….Jamie, don’t make me do it!” 

For, I knew it as deeply as I knew my own name that one botched attempt would not be enough to dissuade him from getting me to the safety of the twentieth century. He wouldn’t give in. Well….neither would I. I fisted my hands hard in his coat as I gritted out, “You can’t make me try it again.” 

“’Try’?—What d’ye—?” He stiffened, then squeezed me tighter, his breath fast and shallow against my neck as he said, urgently, “No! Claire, listen! Ye have come—”

“They didn’t work—I can’t get through! You can’t go fight, now—” I was sobbing, completely senseless in my despair. “You CAN’T—You have t—You—Come away with me, Jamie, me and the baby —” 

I pulled myself harder against him, absolutely berserk with determination that he must not die—that I mustn’t leave him. I’d relented once, down below in the cottage; had felt my heart break in two as I agreed to go, because he had begged, and I’d seen no other way.  I’d touched the bloody stones for him, for his child, meaning to go back to my old life for their sake, if not my own; but the stones had had other intentions, thank God, and so now I would do the begging. “Jamie—don’t throw your life away—Come away with me, love—stay with—”

Claire,” he said, louder this time as he cupped my head, kissed it. His voice was cracked but full, radiant, even, with some powerful emotion I couldn’t name. “Mo chridhe, listen, ye dinna understand! You’re—  

“We can run away, ” I whimpered, twining my fingers in his hair, even as I memorized his scent again, greedily clinging to the feel of him for the last time, some part of me knowing the futility of every word. Still, I begged. “I’ll go anywhere—anywhere—Just don’t give yourself up — don’t — DON’T—

“Sassenach, look at me.” This was said more sharply as he tried to pry me away and tilt my face upward. “Lass, l—” 

“NO—” 

I wouldn’t yield to this again; I WOULD NOT sit back and submit to  — 

He must have pushed me, for I was reeling backward, clawing at empty air, my eyes so blurred and swollen with tears I could barely discern more than the direction of the sunlight. 

I was screaming his name, so frantic in my disorientation that I thought I’d touched the stone again and that he was gone…Gone…. 

But he was shouting my name, too, near at hand, though the sound seemed muffled, as though I were beneath deep water. I reached blindly for it, but the tone of command in his voice cut through, harsh enough to halt me. I stood, still unable to see, heaving, waiting.  

 “Claire…. mo ghraidh.…”  

So soft, that voice, now. Gentle. Beaming, with —  

“Open your eyes, Claire. Look at me.” 



The 2,557th day 

God, how it broke my heart to see ye, so, standing in the circle, your face so pale and thin. The hollows of your cheek and collarbone stood out so painfully in the gold of the fading sunlight, and I could hardly bear the shame of it, of bringing that suffering upon ye. For all my own struggles and fears in our time apart, I have had seven years of plenty. Even in the worst of my days in this century, I never went to my bed starving, hardly one night in all those years, thanks to the kindness of many a stranger. You, though…. God, Claire, to see ye thus, your back hunched over as though ye would fall at any moment, scarce minutes removed from those wretched months of war and hunger, and with child, no less. Christ, our own wee bairn… 

Still, though my heart was squeezing fit to burst, though I was aching to hold my wife, to have you and the bairn safe in my arms at last…. I confess, the foremost feeling within me was unspeakable joy. Though my bones still seemed to scream from those agonizing hours of waiting, today, of fearing the worst with every minute ye didna arrive, I was all but laughing as I caught ye, held ye, the happiness so visceral and complete that it imbued my limbs, my breath, my tongue. For, the days of fear were gone, those hundreds and thousands of days, banished. You’re here, Claire. My Claire, the one I married. The one who knows my heart, and I, hers. All that remained was for you to look up, to see me, to see my joy and know your own, once ye understood the miracle at hand.

At last, ye did look, peering up, out from that darkness pressing down upon ye. You blinked once, straightened a bit and looked more closely. Another blink. I watched your mouth open as ye tried to speak, the wind blowing your hair about your face, but no sound came forth.   

My own voice scarcely could make itself heard, though I tried to smile as I gestured toward my garments. This isna precisely how ye left me, moments ago, aye?



Between the tears and hunger, the fatigue and the lingering panic, I couldn’t seem to fix my eyes long enough to put words to what I was seeing, to reconcile the contradictory realities before me. 

Jamie Fraser—my Jamie—standing on the other side of the clearing of Craigh na Dun. That was reasonable. He’d been only at the bottom of the hill, after all, when I’d left him. 

But his hair cropped short? 

His face suddenly clean and shaven?

His clothes— his clothes….?

“Ye did come through the stones, mo chridhe,” he was saying, his face alight. “And so did I.” 

“No…” I shook my head and staggered a step back. 

“…..It’s 1948.” He spoke each word slowly and carefully, repeating it. “Nineteen hundred and forty-eight.” 

I swayed, time and reason seeming to pulse and stretch absurdly, like a rubber band. This was a dream. This was nothing more than a bloody fever dream of grief and emotional turmoil and pregnancy, my subconscious soothing me with a fantasy world in which I got to keep both of them, Jamie and our child, forever, in a place of safety. That world isn’t real, Beauchamp. This isn’t real. I squeezed my eyes shut and covered my mouth to keep from screaming. This isn’t real, no matter how much you want it to be.  

“Claire, hear me. Time has passed. It was morning a moment ago, aye?” He was speaking quickly, urgently. “Look about—’Tis sunset, now. This isna the morn of Culloden. It canna be. Ye see how I’m dressed. Ye felt me in your own two hands, just now, did ye not?” He took a step forward. “We’ve come through the stones, both of us. I’m real.” 

I could do nothing but stare and try to stem the flood of yearning before it could break me apart from the inside. I tried to speak, but could only mouth one word: How…? 

“When I saw the redcoat making chase for ye, I followed, running up the hill after him,” he said, moving slowly toward me. 

I had heard footsteps behind me as I ran to the stones…. just minutes ago…

“I crested the hill just as I saw ye vanish,” he said. “I fought him as the sun came up fully, all across the circle floor. At one point, I made a lunge for him but missed, staggered, and threw out my hand to stop my fall, but I fell against the stone by accident…..I passed through.”  

I couldn’t stop staring at those fists, clenching and unclenching at his sides, twitching, then stilling again, just a few feet before me. 

“I’ve been here ever since.” 

Silence. 

“Claire?” 

"You didn’t fight in the battle?” The words seemed to come from somewhere outside my body as I watched those hands, transfixed, my lips scarcely moving. “You…didn’t die?” 

“No, I didna die,” I heard him murmur with a breath of a laugh, gentle and soft and him. Alive. “I woke up here, in this very spot….. and I’ve been waiting for you, for this day, praying you’d be safely delivered to this year……And here ye are, at last. Claire, I—” His voice broke at that, a grating whisper, and I watched as the fingers began stretching out toward me, trembling. “Mo chridhe…. I’ve missed you so….All th—” He had to stop. When he spoke again, the tears were choking him in good earnest. “—all these years, I’ve— ” 

“Who’s the prime minister?” I heard myself blurt. 

The hands twitched. “…..Beg pardon?” 

“The prime minister,” I snapped, the rush of annoyance somehow momentarily bracing to my fracturing sanity. “I know for a fact I never told you, so tell me right this damned minute who the bloody pr—” 

“The prime minister of the United Kingdom….” I watched as one hand reached out and took mine, warm and confident as his voice. “…. is Clement Attlee.” 

A sob and a gasp escaped my throat at the same time, a wretched pain slicing through me as the other hand raised up to my face. “Dinna fash, my Sassenach,” he said, though tears were pouring down his own cheeks, framing that same crooked smile. “Mr. Attlee’s doing a fine job of it.” 

I must have blacked out for a few moments, for the next thing I knew, my arms were already around his neck, my feet barely touching the ground and my ribs ready to crack as he crushed me to him. We were both crying, sobbing, and I couldn’t seem to hold enough of him at once. Him—Jamie—JAMIE—“You—fucking—bastard!!!” I ground out through gritted teeth against his shoulder (his real, 20th-century shoulder!!). “BASTARD!” 

He laughed, sniffing through the weeping. “I love ye too, Sassenach.” 

“You were going to die!” I snarled, truly and mightily furious, coughing and gasping for air even as my limbs went liquid from relief. “You were going to go to that battlefield— and let yourself be slaughtered— you FUCKING —” 

“I know….” he murmured at once, all levity vanished as he sobered and held me, his hand coming up to twine in my hair and cup my head, hard. “I know….You were so brave, mo ghraidh…Thank ye for doing as as I bade, for the bairn’s sake. It meant everything to me. It means everything.” He kissed me, just below the ear, exhaling, shuddering against my skin. “But now, w—we dinna have to grieve—anymore.” He was crying so heavily he could hardly get the words out. “We’re here…. to—gether.”  

“How long?” I choked out. 

“Forever, mo chridhe—We’ll have all the time in the—”

 “No—” I said, feeling the horror pooling in my gut, enough to make me push back to study his face above the collar of his waxed cotton jacket. All these years, he’d just said. “….How long have you been waiting?” 

He replied, but so quietly I had to ask it again. He cleared his throat and couldn’t look me in the eye as he said, too carefully, “Since— 1941.” 

The sound that issued from me—

It wasn’t possible. If it truly was 1948, then the stones kept time in exact parallel. Jesus H Christ, I had left him mere minutes ago, how could he possibly—POSSIBLY—?

Very gently, he took my hand and turned it over. The letter J carved at the base of my thumb was oozing blood, the scabs having torn off sometime in the last few minutes from grappling with him, I supposed. He laid his own hand palm-up to show the mark I myself had made upon him. I stared. For so very long, I couldn’t do a goddamn thing except stare, my eyes and mouth both moving furiously but without sound. In contrast to the raw, screaming red of my own fresh wound, his C was the barest, faintest crescent of white, so long-healed as to all but have disappeared amid the lines and wrinkles. 

 “…Oh, Jamie…”  I reached up for his face with both my hands, my heart absolutely breaking for him. My eyes were wide and streaming, though I still dared to hope that I’d misunderstood. “…..Seven years?” 

I expected him to make a joke, to tease or try to lighten the mood, but he only nodded and kissed my hands, laying his own atop them on his face as he continued to weep. 

“Oh, my love….” I kissed him, kissed his tears, the devastation of his reality ripping through me as though they were my own years that had been lost; my own heart that had been alone for close to a decade. There were no words, but I couldn’t stop murmuring what I could. I love you….I’m so sorry….It’s alright… It’s over.

I love you,” he repeated back, letting me hold and soothe him, as he had me. “I love you.” 

“But, where did you go?” I whispered at last when the questions became too frenzied to ignore. I tried to search his eyes, my own surely incredulous and horrified. “What….what did you do for all that—” Jesus “—all those years?” 

His eyes flicked open. He took a steadying breath, kissed me, very gently, then released one hand to reach into his pocket. Turning my scarred one over once more, he placed something delicately in my palm. It was still warm from the heat of his body. A smooth pebble of cherrywood, carved with a interlace dragonfly. 



 

I thought I’d seen ye shocked, already; thought that you had already been overcome to the most extreme point possible by the day’s revelations. I was wrong, for your reaction in that moment, seeing the token in your hand, the one I made for ye, all those years ago—That reaction was something the like of which I’ve never seen on your face, Claire, so visceral and true, it sent waves coursing through me that took my breath from fear and love, both. I hope never to give ye cause to feel such a thing again.   

You studied my face, wild-like, seeking your friend of old, within….and finding him. Ye covered your mouth with both hands to keep from wailing. 

It’s really him, ye wept through your fingers, —really you.

C’est moi, I said, touching your cheek. It’s me. 

One hand dropped to your heart and clutched hard as ye sank to your knees, tears streaming freely over the other. 

It was the only way I kent to live wi’ myself, I said, or something of the like as I knelt beside ye, put my arms around ye. Being near to ye, in some way. 

All along? 

That what ye kept saying. I could see your eyes above your hands, clear and shining and full of love and awe, even as the most terrible sobs wracked your body. 

Aye…all along. 

It was difficult to speak the words, any words, for I, too was being bowled over by the weight of it all, the immensity of release from this last burden, this last secret that had so long been crushing my heart. I felt myself swaying on my knees, the world spinning around us. 

You came to find me? you said, incredulous, broken-hearted. All those years, you watched over me? Helped me?

As best I could, I said. 

You did, you whispered, nodding fiercely as you wept into my chest and pulled me close, tightly enough to bruise. You did. More than you know.

My heart leapt, for I thought surely ye must mean the night in the ditch. Though, when I asked of it, ye didna seem to comprehend that of which I spoke. You stared up at me, trying to fathom what I might possibly could mean. 

Then all at once you jolted as though struck by an electric shock. I saw you remember. 

You were there? you said, again and again. You were there with me…..Jesus Chris, you were there….

Time seems to have juddered out of place, then, for I canna precisely recall how much of it passed. I canna recall how my body was situated, or yours. I canna remember what words we might have spoken, or, for that matter, if we were able to speak at all. I think not, on the whole. All I ken for certain is that I was holding you, all my heart running down my face as I clung to you and to the bairn; that everything was well, that all was clear, at last. 

When the night had fallen, though, and you were asleep against my breast, I carried you here to the campsite and laid you down upon the blankets, tucking you in against the chill of the night. I couldna sleep, myself. Not yet. I watched you, for a time, wept some more (I’m a most damnably fragile man, mo chridhe; I do hope you’ll forgive me) and then turned on the electric torch, that I might write to ye. One more letter, one final letter, before closing this wee book for good. After all, I dinna mean to be spending many days apart from ye, in the lifetime to come, Sassenach; none at all, if I should have my own say in the matter. 

Lord, but what else remains to be written, apart from rejoicing here on this page that we are safe; we are together; we have our child; that we will live, Claire, long and happily; and that, by divine grace, I was able to keep my promise. 

Do you recall it? The one I made near Carryarrick, just after ye told me about that night in the ditch? About the Americans? I promised you that no matter what might come, you would never be alone again; and you weren’t, not for a single moment as ye fell through the stones; not in that darkest, most fearful night of the war. Whatever luck or chance or providence brought it about, guiding my steps, you were protected. You were never alone. 

Aye, that was it:  what I was repeating over and over as we lay there shaking and weeping on the ground before the stones. 

You weren’t ever alone.





[y e s , t h e r e ’s  m o r e]

Primal Instincts - (M/H)

We’re so sorry for the delay, but we really hope your wait was worth it~ 
Here is the first of the Halloween smuts- brought to you by myself and my lovely @dont-run-up <3
P.s. leave some comments so we know how we did ^^

Genre; Smut with a fun swirl of Horror~ 

Length; 6,600+ words

Kinks; primal kink, predator/prey, creampie, dirty talk, breeding/mating kink, pregnancy risk 

AU; Werewolf

Originally posted by mixedangel

“Run.”
The deformed command that fell from Jaebum’s mouth had Y/N running for the back door out of their cabin. Fear had overridden logic as she bolted past her shoes and off the deck. The soft earth beneath her feet was a mild comfort as she ran for her life.
Forest leaves exploded in color as the sunset washed over them. Oak and maple leaves littered the forest floor forming a radiant carpet of yellows, reds and golden browns. Y/N’s barely covered feet ran over them, uncaring of the wonders around her. She looked to the sky only to see the sun slowly dipping below the horizon. Birds screamed warnings of impending danger above her. Quickly they flew overhead leaving her in their dust. The young woman whimpered wishing she could take flight just like them, to leave and return to Seoul.

Sokcho was supposed to be a beautiful weekend destination for Y/N and her beau. They’d gotten some time off for Chuseok and decided to spend it alone for the first time. Everything was planned, their stay, the touristy shit they’d wanted to partake in and even their last day of lounging. Jaebum was the one to suggest the mountains this far north, said it would “bring them closer to all the natural parts of themselves.” Y/N had to laugh at the irony of that one. Is this how her ancestors felt, running from larger things that wanted to eat them? Fear was a powerful thing, it kept her legs pumping despite the fire in her chest. 

As she ran deeper into the woods the trees became closer, the roots thicker and more untamed. Thump. Thump. Thump. Y/N blood rushed in her ears, the birds long gone, all she could hear was the sound of her heart. She swore it was going to pop out of her chest at any moment; until then she kept going, bobbing and weaving through the underbrush. Thu-thump. Thump. Thump. That wasn’t her heart. Y/N broke out in a petrified sweat. She wondered how he’d caught up so fast and whether she’d collapse before he caught her. 

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Graduation

Requested anonymously: Castiel Novak is Dean’s high school counselor. He congratulates Dean on a job well done when he manages to graduate. 

Word Count: 1200ish

Warning: Blowjob, student/counselor relationship (Dean’s eighteen)

A/N: Thanks for this request! It was fun to write! XOXO

“Mr. Winchester, come in.”

Dean barely hides his smirk as he slides past the counter in the front office, back into the private office of his favorite counselor.

“Hey, Mr. Novak,” he grins, dragging out the name as he closes the door and locks it.

“Sit down.”

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