i just keep watching this moment over and over again


you’ve been wearing a lot of dean’s clothes lately.

tagging: @redgillan, @mattymattymerduck, @avengerofyourheart, @wakandasoldier, @darlingbuchanan, @bemystucky, @idorkish, @iwillbeinmynest, @aubzylynn, @angryschnauzer, @almondbuttercup

warnings: suggestive content. i kept this pretty sfw though.

additional notes: ok i wrote another dean fic cuz i love him so much. female reader in this one, although tbh it’s pretty ambiguous. let me know if you want to read more dean/reader or sam/reader, cuz i would love to hear your guys’ ideas :)

Originally posted by soluscheese

Dean didn’t think much of it at first. In fact, when he woke up Saturday morning and found you cooking breakfast in one of his button-down shirts, he found himself smiling. The day before, he had seen you wearing a pair of his drawstring pants while you researched in the library, and earlier that week he’d seen you napping on the couch in one of Sam’s sweatshirts. He figured you were just a clothing thief, or that his and Sam’s clothes were just particularly comfortable for you.

Then he noticed that it was usually just his clothes you were stealing. You would wear Dean’s T-shirts, Dean’s flannel, Dean’s jacket. One day, when it was your turn to fold laundry, he’d stopped by the laundry room to bring you a sandwich, and he’d caught you holding one of his shirts to your face, sniffing it deeply. You hadn’t even acted flustered about it, just boasted about how the fabric softener you were using was magical.

Even though you were nonchalant, Dean was still suspicious. And a little smug. You’d been living at the bunker for a few years now, had known the Winchesters for even longer and stuck around since teaming up with them to stop the apocalypse seven years prior. Dean had appreciated you from the start; you were feisty, an excellent shot, and fun to be around, always full of snark and well-timed derision. Your sass put Sam’s to shame, and Dean found himself worrying about keeping up with you, rather the other way around. Most of all he liked how you genuinely cared for them both, providing the much-needed companionship and loyalty they’d been deprived of for far too long.

So with your fiery personality and looks to match, it didn’t take long for Dean to fall for you, and he mentally kicked himself in the head every day for it. It didn’t help that, judging by the way you always found a reason to touch or cuddle up close to him, his feelings might be reciprocated. There was no room for relationships in the hunting business—not from what he’d previously seen, anyway—but even Sam saw how much Dean cared for you and you for him. The younger Winchester had taken up the role of love guru and was currently encouraging him to take the next step, make it official. Dean liked the idea of having that with you, but he’d held off, too scared of getting too close and losing you, just like everyone else. Now, he was worried that you might have lost interest over time, or that Sam was going to come to his senses, realize your appeal, and make a move before Dean could. Maybe that was why Dean felt mildly stung whenever it was Sam’s shirt you decided to wear, and why Dean felt a swell of pride whenever you did choose to steal Dean’s clothes instead. It was like each time you wore his clothes on your back, you were unofficially proclaiming that he was yours, and you were his.

So Dean made the decision to ask you about it, to at least figure out why you had started pilfering only his clothes. He went down to the kitchen Monday night and found you crouching on the floor, rummaging through the lower shelves of the fridge. You were wearing his navy Henley over flannel pajama pants, and there was that smug swell of pride again. He grinned, crossing his arms and (selfishly) watching you for a few moments, definitely not checking out the way your ass looked in those pants or the strip of bare skin just above your waistband where his Henley had ridden up.

“Any luck down there?” he asked.

You cast a glance over your shoulder at him and smiled before returning to your task. “Just looking for the peanut butter, s’all. I feel like we should start organizing this better. I keep losing my spreads.”

“Maybe we can get you your own little spread section.” Dean watched you tug the shirt down your back, effectively covering you. Damn.

“Would be nice, but I don’t think I deserve a whole section to myself,” you replied. “A-ha!” you crowed with delight, reaching far into the fridge and procuring the peanut butter jar. “God bless.” You straightened to your full height and shut the door, cradling the jar to your chest. “Want some?” you called over your shoulder, moving to the counter where you had laid out some toasted bread and sliced bananas.

Dean couldn’t help but wrinkle his nose as he stepped over to you and leaned against the fridge to watch you prepare your meal. “When have I ever eaten fruit?” You opened your mouth to protest and he cut you off, “When it’s not filling a warm crust.”

You clamped your mouth shut. “You got me there. I think you’d like this, though.”

“I’ll have a bite of yours, then,” Dean relented. You smiled, and he stood up straight, moving closer to you. “You know, sweetheart, I’ve noticed you’ve been a bit of a thief lately.”

“Oh, yeah? And what have I stolen now?”

Dean was so close his hip was almost brushing yours. He braced one hand on the counter as he watched you. “My clothes. Sam’s, too, but mostly mine. You wanna tell me why that is?” He was playing it cool, but truth be told, when you paused in your meal preparation and turned to face him, he was starting to lose his confidence.

Your smile had vanished. You were worrying your bottom lip between your teeth, and Dean didn’t miss the way your eyes traversed his frame, lingering at his neckline, his jaw, and finally his face. “Does it bother you?” you asked with legitimate concern in your eyes. He watched that concern morph into something warm and oozy, like molten flame. He was starting to burn up just looking at you. “I’ll stop if it does, but your clothes are real comfy, Dean. And they smell good, too.”

Dean swallowed hard. You were challenging him, daring him to make the first move. Fuck it. He reached out to your side and grasped the Henley where it fell against your waist, pinching the material and rubbing it between his fingers. The corner of your mouth twitched with the beginnings of a smirk. “Oh, I’m not mad. Not mad at all,” he replied. He stepped closer to you, so close he could detect the crisp apple scent of your conditioner, could see his own face reflecting in your eyes. He slid his hand down to your hip and your own hand traveled up his arm to grasp his bicep. “I mean, if you look so good in my clothes”—he licked his lips, shamelessly appraising you from head to toe—“I could just imagine how you’d look out of them.”

Dean felt you tremble under his touch, and you pressed closer against him, his hand moving to lie flat along the small of your back. You craned your neck forward, and your lips skimmed his ear as you spoke, “Why don’t we go up to my room and find out?”


November 2005

He woke to Sam’s startled, strangled cry, and he was on his feet with his Colt cool in his hand before he realized that his brother had been dreaming.

‘Sammy, Jesus Christ,’ he muttered, thumbing the safety back on before he put a bullet through the goddamned lampshade. Sam looked up at him from the other bed, sweaty-faced, wet-eyed, and then kicked free from the tangle he’d made of his sheets and ran for the bathroom; the light went on and the door slammed shut and a heartbeat later Dean heard him throwing up the little he’d eaten at supper—a shitty apple and half an egg-salad sandwich from the Kwik Stop on the highway, and a candy bar Dean had practically forced down his gullet, ‘cause his kid clearly needed protein, and Snickers had, y’know, peanuts. 

Damn it.

He tucked the gun back beneath his pillow, scrubbed a hand across his hair and stood irresolute for a moment in the center of their room, then padded quietly over to the bathroom door.  Rested his forehead and one hand against the thin cheap wood, didn’t open it. ‘Sam,’ he said. ‘You all right, man?’

One breath, two. ‘M fine,’ his brother managed, which Dean would have believed, sure, no problem, if only the kid hadn’t sounded like he’d been flayed open and left for dead on the side of the fucking road. 


They worked a few cases, saved a few people, hunted a few things. Sam lost ten pounds and stopped sleeping anywhere save for the cradle of the front seat, with the road humming beneath Baby’s tires and his head tipped against the window, a pained furrow between his brows. 

He still woke, always, from a nightmare.

He was, always, fine.


They were in western Indiana, one state line and 250 miles from a room full of shattered mirrors, when Dean opened his eyes, a little after midnight, to find Sam sitting on the edge of the other bed, head in his hands, sheets and blankets a messy tumble at his back. 

‘Hey,’ he said, rubbing sleep from his eyes. ‘You all right?’

I’m fine, he expected, but Sam said nothing, and he came all the way awake.


In nothing but his boxers, shoulders hunched, feet bare, his little brother looked small, somehow, and painfully vulnerable. ‘ … I can’t sleep,’ he admitted, soft and young and lost. ‘I just … ‘ His fingers tightened in his hair. ‘Dean, I’m so tired, and I can’t—I can’t sleep.’

Dean’s heart clenched up, hard, behind his ribs, because he knew that voice, even though he hadn’t heard it in a dozen years: Dean, help, his baby brother had said, at seven, bringing him a dying bird with a broken wing; and But Dean I want to stay, he’d cried, at ten in West Virginia; and Dean and Dean and Dean, Sammy always so certain that he could fix it, that he could help, no matter how many times he failed him.

‘… I know,’ he said, quietly, because there wasn’t anything the fuck else to say, no matter how much he wished otherwise. ‘Sammy, man, the nightmares about Jess, they’re—they’re gonna get better, okay?’ he said. ‘They always do; it’s—’

Sam was shaking his head, slow and weary. ‘I’m not dreaming about Jess,’ he said, and Dean blinked at him, because what the hell? ‘I mean, I am, but not … not all the time.’ He pushed a hand back through his hair. ‘It’s always the fire,’ he said, softly. ‘But sometimes it’s … it’s Dad, on the ceiling, dying.’ A shuddery breath. ‘Most of the time it’s you.’

Dean’s throat closed up, hard. ‘Sammy,’ he managed, but the kid just shook his head again, looked up at him with desperate, pleading eyes. 

‘I can’t—I can’t keep watching you die, man; not after … you’re all I got, and I can’t …’ His voice cracked, took something in Dean’s chest with it. They were quiet for a moment, the only sound the rumble of a semi passing by outside on the highway, and the low murmur of the TV from the manager’s office on the other side of the wall.

‘C’mere,’ Dean finally said. He scooted over in the narrow double bed. ‘Just … grab your pillow, all right? You ain’t gonna get any sleep over there.’

He could have sworn he saw his little brother flushing in the dark. ‘D-Dean, I … I don’t–’

He smacked the mattress, once. ‘Shut up and lie your bony ass down, Sasquatch. I ain’t gonna tell you again.’

It took a minute, but four years’ distance apparently hadn’t sapped all of his Big Brother mojo, because Sam finally crawled in beside him, hesitantly, mattress lurching briefly beneath his weight.

They lay quietly for awhile, both of them on their backs, shoulders close but not touching in the dark.

‘Hey, you remember that awesome diner in Georgia from when you were a kid?’ Dean asked. ‘With the waffles and the peanut butter pie?’

He didn’t think it was going to work for a moment, but then, softly: ‘The one with the big peach on the sign? Outside Savannah?’

‘Yeah. Dad and I ended up back there about four months ago, after we cleaned up a haunting in the city. They still got the pie. I was worried, you know? That they’d be sellin’, like, tofu cheesecake or somethin’ by now, but they still got it. Same dumb curtains, same dumb tablecloths, same awesome pie. Sweet potato fries are still good, too.’ He shifted a little, settling himself more comfortably. ‘What were you, twelve, when you polished off that basket of ‘em? The owner came out to take a picture.’ He didn’t mention that he’d found it in August, a Polaroid tacked up on the wall with three hundred others, Sammy sweet-faced and floppy-haired and shyly smiling, or that it was tucked safely now in the glove box, with the few other precious things Dean owned.

He could hear Sam’s smile, even if he couldn’t see it; could feel the tension starting to drain a little from his brother’s long body. ‘Yeah,’ he said. And then: ‘You got the recipe from the cook, remember? Tried to make them for me the next time we were at Bobby’s.’

‘Yeah, well. Not all of my plans are genius, Sammy,’ he said, and his brother snorted out a soft little laugh in the dark. 

Dean talked on, softly, about nothing important: a diner he and Dad had found in Nebraska one Christmas Eve; a ski cabin in Maine they’d slept warm and safe in for a week; the massive, moss-covered oak he’d spend a night under on Jekyll Island, waiting for the ghosts of a slaver and his son. After awhile Sam rolled onto his side, curling up bit by bit in the space between them until his forehead was touching Dean’s arm and one bony knee bumping against Dean’s leg; a little while longer and there were long, hesitant fingertips settling soft against his ribs, like his little brother just wanted to make sure he was real, that he was there. Dean was reminiscing fondly about a burger called the Mac Attack he’d found in Boston when he heard the kid’s breath finally settle into the slow, easy rhythm of sleep.

He lay quietly for a long while beside his brother in the dark, and never knew when he tumbled headlong into dreaming.


He woke a little after 7:00, their room still dark, December rain coming down steady and cold outside. Sam was still sound asleep, sprawled across Dean’s chest the same way he’d slept as a kid, tucked in under Dean’s arm with his face hidden in the crook of Dean’s neck and one arm and leg thrown over him in a haphazard tangle of limbs. Warm to his bones, Dean shifted just a little to ease the cramping in his lower back; Sam snuffled and kicked and wound himself more tightly around him in reply. ‘D’n,’ he mumbled.

Dean settled a hand in his brother’s hair, and closed his eyes against the coming day.

Camp Camp Apocalyptic AU: A Prologue

A/N: In which our favorite trio of little bastards come together in a world where kids can be in charge and peanut butter is worth the life of another. 

Fan-Fiction; concept and ideas belong to me, the characters do not. 

(I apologize it’s not well written but I wrote it and I’m gonna post it)


Apparently The World Ended (Prologue)

He was ten years old when the world ended, alone in his large, empty, robotic-filled house as bombs crashed down and sirens rang out.

Once the disaster ended, and he and parts of the world were very much still alive, he collected what he could from the rubble and ran without any desire to return.

He still had the scars from his father, his dreams were still filled with cold, harsh stares of disapproval and disappointment, but he was free and independent and damn, did it feel good.

But he was ten, and despite his sharp wit and natural brilliance, he wasn’t quite as untouchable as he often felt he was.

“Oh Maxwell,” Pikeman spat, gesturing for Snake to deal another blow to Max’s ribs, “you really are way in over your head, aren’t you?”

“Suck a dick Pikeman,” Max growled, using the wall of the abandoned convenience store to hold him up, “I was just passing through your territory so I didn’t-”

“Excuses, excuses,” Pikeman kicked forward, sending Max tumbling down to the dirt, “now, what were you really doing here?”

“I told you, you fucking idiot,” Max pushed himself up onto his arms, looking his enemy straight in the eyes, “I’m just passing through.”

“Through our surplus room?” Snake gestured to the old store.

Max said nothing, dropping his gaze as he tried to pull his strength together. Pikeman merely smirked.

“I knew it; you just can’t keep your hands to yourself, can you Maxwell?” He gave an ugly, snot-driven laugh, reaching his sweaty hand out  to his defeated opponent. “Hand it over now, Maxwell.”

“Dude come on,” Max coughed, standing himself back up, “it was just a fucking jar of peanut butter. You have over two hundred in there, man. Can’t I trade it for something else? Candles? A broken watch?”

Pikeman froze, his forehead crumpled in thought for a few moments before a yellow, toothy smile began to grow.

“Actually, I have a proposition for you,” he swiped Max’s bag, tripping him once again with a swift kick to the knees, “there’s this weird girl who came through yesterday, stole some of our canned goods and bread. She ran across the tiny desert into the mountains, but she was injured, so she couldn’t have gone far.”

“So why the hell should I care?”

“Because if you want this bag back with the jar, you need to bring her to us by tomorrow mid-day. If you don’t, you either leave without it, or you have to stay as an honorary Wood Scout recruit. Do I make myself clear?”

“Do I have a fucking choice?”

“Twenty four hours, Maxwell,” Pikeman threw down a coil of rope and a hunting knife, “she’s tiny and fast and has a bushel of green curly hair. We’ll be waiting.” Max stood himself up, taking a few breaths before exiting the alleyway to the small desert that lay before him.

It wasn’t exactly a desert; it was just an old field that had been burned and ruined by the Great Disaster and its following conflict. But everyone who lived and roamed in the Mountain Valley area called it a desert, so desert it was named. Max quietly limped across the cracked, dry ground, feeling the eyes of Pikeman watching him from their base tower.

He fucking hated everything that had to do with the Wood Scouts. They were nothing but an imposing, whiny group of abandoned military-school children who bullied any survivor who refused to comply with them.

Max had been stealing shit from them for months now; but in four weeks they somehow came up with a ridiculous new line of defense.

A ridiculously tall, muscular, line of defense.

Max shifted his feet, trudging forward towards the large block of trees as he tried to scan the ground for any trace of her.

He didn’t expect to find a trail of orange paint, but that would work as well.

Max continued to walk slowly, his mind quiet and meditated on the decent weather and the speckles of orange paint that dotted the tall grass and trees that sprouted amongst the dry clay. The grey sky faded into a light orange blending into purple, and as soon as the sun had swollen on the edge of the valley, Max had found what he was looking for.

Er, at least, he thought he did.

“Will you hold the fuck still, Nikki?”

“It’s seriously no big deal Neil; it’s just my wrist!”

“An hour ago you were screaming how you’d rather be eaten by wolves than deal with the pain.”

“See? It’s just getting better!”

Max stared from behind the shrub, hidden from sight among the tall shadows and twigs. Both of them were kids, not much older than himself, if they were even older at all. As Pikeman had explained, the girl possessed a wild mane of green curls and a numerous amount of scars and bruises along her arms and face. The boy, while clearly worn and exhausted, was a lot less banged-up than his companion. He was scrappy and boney and, Max figured, would probably die and be eaten by wolves or some shit if he wasn’t friends with crazy-eyes.

Max glanced down at his rope and knife, and looked back up at his supposed targets. Rolling his eyes, he stepped out of the brush, loosely holding the weapons at his side.

“Hey,” Max threw his arm out to Nikki “were you the crazy dumb-ass that stole from the Wood Scouts?”

The two companions froze, before Nikki jumped up to her feet, Neil’s hands still firmly locked on the set splint. “Who the fuck wants to know?”

“Name’s Max,” he threw up his arms and dropped his weapons, rolling his eyes, “Wood Scouts sent me to kidnap you and bring you back to the camp so they could imprison you or some dumb shit and I could get my fucking bag back.”

“…But, who are you?” Neil asked, giving the splint one final tug before letting go of Nikki’s wrist. “Are you a Wood Scout?”

“Hell no,” Max grunted, “they’re just holding all my weapons and ammunition hostage until I bring you back.”

Nikki blinked. “And you just expect us to walk back with you and get kidnapped.”

“…I mean,” Max shifted, a tad hesitant in his voice, “I wasn’t going to fucking cut you and tie you up like an animal.”

“Then what were you going to do?”

Max scrunched his forehead, remaining quiet for a few moments before a small idea came to his head.

“You escaped the Wood Scouts before, right?”

“I have,” Nikki proudly held her head high, “but Neil here’s a big chicken!”

“I am not!” He protested, “I’m just not built to be super durable, that’s all.”

“Look, who gives a fuck,” Max rolled his eyes, “we’re all out here trying to survive, right? Why don’t we all work together and steal some more shit from them and get the hell out of dodge?”

“And how are we supposed to fight?” Neil protested.

“Like I said Neil,” Nikki scoffed, running over to Max’s side and picking up the pocket knife, “it’s no biggie! I can still fight!”

“And what about me?”

“You got a gun Neil?” Max asked. The young boy faltered, his face turning red.

“How did you-”

“It’s the fucking Apocalypse, okay?” Max shrugged, “everybody’s carrying around fucked up shit. So you got a gun?”

“Yeah, but all I have are blanks.”

“They won’t fucking know the difference,” Max smiled, dropping to the ground and sketching out a plan in the mud, “now, Neil, Nikki, here’s what we’re going to do…”


Pikeman made it far too easy, agreeing to meet behind the convenience store to retrieve Nikki. The rope was tied to her ankle, and she sat cross legged, obviously bored and irritated by the time the Wood Scouts had bothered to show up.

“Alright Max,” Pikeman spat, tossing him his bag back, “all your items back, including the jar of peanut butter.”

“You know I’m not giving her to you until I check this, right?” Max asked, his black eye shooting daggers back at the Wood Scout Leader.

“Fine.” Pikeman pouted, agonizingly watching as Max checked the contents of his bag. Despite his slimy persona, Pikeman had kept his promise, not a single blade or box had been tampered with.

“Okay, here you go,” Max shrugged, dropping Nikki’s rope. Without missing a beat, she charged ahead, ramming herself into Snake and biting his nose like some wild, vicious animal.

“Max!” Pikeman screamed, charging towards Max with his wobbly chicken legs. Max merely turned, stretching his leg just far enough to send Pikeman tumbling into the ground.

“Where the fuck is Neil?” Max yelled to Nikki, who had begun to brutally beat the tall, muscular kid she had pinned to the ground. Suddenly, the squeaking of rubber filled the air, as Niel sped over in one of the Wood Scout’s golf carts, holding the gun backwards in his hand like a crazy idiot.

“Let’s get the fuck out of here!” he shouted, as Nikki and Max bolted to the cart. The Wood Scouts that could began to chase after them, but it was too late; they had already reached the untouched prairie fields three miles ahead of them.

“Suck a dick losers!” Nikki howled with laughter, standing up in the back seat. “What a bunch of pussies!”

“Calm down Nick,” Max called from shotgun, “our nerd here’s one second from throwing you from the back seat if you don’t sit your ass down.”

“Hey!” Neil shouted, sharply turning to plunge down into one of the lower mountain valleys, “if you have a problem with my driving, why don’t you drive the fucking vehicle?”

“Man come on, they beat the shit out of me yesterday!”

“Hey guys?” Nikki called, crawling to stick her own head between the two boys, “where are we going anyways?”

“Eh, wherever,” Max shrugged, “as long as we stay away from god damn weirdos for a while.”


Summary: Knowing how powerful a telepath you are, Steve seeks your help with Bucky

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Telepath!Reader

Word Count: 1441

Warnings: none really

A/N: Its really just friendship fluff here, but there’s room for a sequel :) @nerdyandproud9

Originally posted by caps-bucky

“Yeah, but Steve, memories don’t work like that,” You laugh, sipping at the warm coffee. You watched as Steve sighed, looking lost as he discarded his coffee. You felt bad, considering he’d come to you in search of help.

You were a telepath; a gift given to you since before you were born to read people’s minds. It was a power you struggled to turn off, considering it took a matter of seconds before you could start shifting through their memories, learning their darkest secrets.

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Twin Love (Derek Hale One Shot)

Originally posted by mirray05

Requested: Yes

Warnings: Nope

Word Count: 711

He watched your every movement. From the way you scratched the palm of your hands when you were nervous, to the wide spread footing you took on when defending someone you loved. 

He’d seen it all. The tears, the smiles, the darting glances. And he loved every minute of it. He could watch you for hours and never grow bored. And yet, when he gazed upon someone of such an intellectual beauty as yours, all he saw was Scott. Scott McCall.

You see, Derek was in love with Scott’s twin sister…you. And he could always feel the tension fade away when you walked into a room. He felt himself relax as you linked your arm in his during Pack Meetings, meaning nothing of it, really.

But Derek craved more. He wanted your never ending attention, even if he didn’t show it. And he wanted your hand clasped tightly in his own. He wanted everything- all the love you had to give, all the baggage you carried. He didn’t mind it at all. 

“Derek!” Stiles exclaimed, snapping his fingers in front of the leader’s face. Derek, eyes sharp as always, glared at Stiles and grunted while turning away. 

“Scott and Y/N are the main targets here.” He began, locking eyes with you. You turned a bit, a blush creeping up your neck. Derek smirked, and began planning the retreat if anything were to go wrong. 

“I still think Y/N should stay behind. She’d be safer with me.” Derek explained, crossing his arms over his chest in that menacing way that you had found to be just an act. Scott, eyes wide, grabbed you by the shoulders, pulling you into his chest. 

“Nuh uh. I don’t care if she’d be ‘safer’. I don’t trust you.” You laughed lightly, detaching yourself from him, and walking over to Derek. Stiles watched as Derek’s arms dropped from his chest, clutching them loosely behind his back, instead. 

“So it’s a plan.” You say, leaning on your elbows on the table. Derek nodded, before heading off to the kitchen. You sighed, brushing the hair out of your eyes, and looking up at Scott. His lips were curled into a look of annoyance while he stood shoulder to shoulder with Stiles. 

“We could use your help, Y/N. You’re the only one with the ability to heal.” Scott exclaimed, and you rolled your eyes.

“Well, maybe if you try to stay alive, instead of running towards dangerous things, hopefully you won’t need my help.” You smiled sarcastically, and started for the loft door. 

Stiles groaned, shaking his head over and over again. “This is not gonna end well. Not at all.” He muttered. He followed Scott out the door, pausing for just a moment to watch Derek pace the kitchen, the smallest hint of a smile playing on his lips. 

Hiiiiiiiii! I hope you liked! This will most definitely have more than one part, so don’t worry. Keep requesting! Love you guys! 

third times the charm | tommy shelby

anon wanted tommy wanting another baby ft. the cute demon twins

“Noooo, mister. Nonono. Not happening”

He let out a breath, smiling.

“Oh, so that’s it then?”


“Right, well”

“We’re not having another kid. It’s not happening, Tommy. At least a decade between them”

“A decade?”

“Or two”

“It might be a little late by then”

“I had two at once last time, was that not enough for you? Does that not count as two strikes off the tally already - I mean, what does a woman have to do these days?”

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My submission for MEFF @meflashfanwork

Also on AO3.

There are times when life continues ever onward while there you sit spinning in place, feeling like you’ll never be able to move again. Then, you see a glow on the horizon– a beacon to light your way. 

Eyes abruptly snapping open, he stared at the ceiling, images from his dream playing across its surface like scenes in a movie. His heart thundered in his ears, body covered in cold sweat.

Five long years.

Every night since that last mission, he’d had this same dream. And every time, it woke him up in the early morning hours. He refused to consider it a nightmare.

Turning his head towards the clock, his bleary eyes worked to focus on the glowing neon numbers – 0300 hours. Right on time. Flinging an arm across his eyes, he tried to block everything out but it was no use, any attempt in trying to get back to sleep was pointless. The images and the emotions they evoked were too vivid for sleep to pull him back into its embrace.

Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, he sat there for several minutes staring at nothing, trying in vain to push the dream away. The air in the room ghosted over his sweat-slicked skin, causing a chill his biotics couldn’t chase away. Running a hand through his hair in frustration, he figured he might as well get up and take a hot shower.

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December 16, 1991 (Tony Stark x reader)

Not a request, just my sick mind at play.

“Sergeant Barnes?”

Tony closed his eyes and grimaced, knowing exactly what was happening on the screen in front of him, having had seen this scene replayed at least a hundred times now.  He wasn’t sure why he had made sure to take it from the base in Siberia, and really wasn’t sure why it had become a part of his daily life to watch it at any given point in his day, but he only knew that he couldn’t stop.  It was like some masochistic addiction that his mind wouldn’t allow him reprieve from, filling a need within himself that could never be satiated.

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anonymous asked:

For the writing prompt thing could you do #2 with bokuaka as the pairing? Make it as fluffy as possible pls thank

i sure can, dear anon! idk if this was fluffy but here ya go!!

bokuaka; #2 - How late is late?

Akaashi’s just walking up to the agreed meeting spot when his phone rings. He swipes the green talk button, pausing just the smallest bit to smile at the profile picture Bokuto set for himself: a picture of a ruffled owl he took last time they went to the zoo.

“Yes, Bokuto-san?”

“Akaashi! Good morning! You look amazing as always!”

“… We’re on the phone, Bokuto-san. You can’t see me.”

“Right,” Bokuto laughs, and Akaashi frowns at the slight nervous tone in the familiar sound. “Well, you see, the thing is—-” There’s a bit of static and some loud noises, muffling Bokuto’s words.

“What did you say?”

Bokuto huffs into the phone. “I’m sorry, Akaashi! But I’m going to be late!”

Akaashi holds in a sigh, even as he pinches the bridge of his nose. “How late is late, Bokuto-san?”



“… Maybe… thirty minutes… times four?”

Akaashi lifts the phone away from his ear to stare at it. He puts it back, his voice incredulous, “What do you mean?”

“Well, I was really, really excited about today, right? Because it’s a very special day and we’ve been planning this for a while, or I have, because it took me some time to work up the courage to actually ask you out, and anyway you said yes so I’m really, really happy so I woke up extra early! But then I might have…” Bokuto’s voice trails off into a mumble again. “… I might have accidentally… fallen asleep on the train… and missed the stop…”

Akaashi’s speechless for a moment. He watches the people pass by his spot in front of the amusement park, from families to school kids to groups of friends to couples. Just as Bokuto’s voice started to come back asking if he’s still there, Akaashi bursts into laughter. He laughs and laughs, bending over and crouching down to keep himself from falling over. 

“Akaashi?” Bokuto sounds alarmed. “Are you okay? I’m really, really sorry! I messed up! This date is going so horribly wrong!”

Wiping the tears from his face, Akaashi stands back up slowly. He turns around, heading back to the station. “Bokuto-san. It’s okay. Take your time getting back, okay? Don’t get lost.”

“I won’t, Akaashi!”

“I’ll be here waiting. And also, you owe me five croquettes.”

Bokuto’s booming laughter fills the line. “I’ll buy you all the croquettes in the world!”

“I don’t think your wallet can handle that, Bokuto-san.”

“Akaaaaashiiiii! Let me sound like a cool boyfriend!!”

send me a pairing + prompt and i’ll write a lil something!!

i like to play the o helga natt clip to fall asleep to because it sounds so beautiful and i don’t have to read a translation but then i just…keep watching it? and then i replay it over and over again and then it’s 3 am? and then i’m wide awake because i need to see the moment when even nuzzles his nose against isak’s cheek and find the exact pantone color of his clear gray-blue eyes in that light?

Natural beauty - Dan

Anon:Can you make an imagine where Y/N is reading and she has like sweatpants and her hairs tied up, and like she’s got no makeup on, and she there on the couch reading and for some reason it just turns Dan on? Thank you xoxo

A/N: Sorry about the wait honey, Been a mad dash for the requests. I hope you like it! x

Warning: smut



I stared out the window as I waited for the kettle to boil. I felt rather tired so I hoped that coffee would be a decent pick me up. There was snow falling from the sky, it was a usual sight in the streets of London. The kettle clicked, indicating that it had finished, I poured the water into my coffee granules that lived inside my mug, leaving room for milk to be put in afterwards. As I finished my coffee, I exited the kitchen and made my way into the living room. I noticed that the office door was open, but Phil wasn’t home so it only left (Y/n). 

I quietly shuffled over so I could stick my head in, hoping she wouldn’t notice me. I brought the coffee to my lips as I studied her , The window blinds were opened, letting the sun Dance along the parts of her skin that were showing. She sat on the head of the red sofa and leaned against the window as if it were her own little window sill. I didn’t know how she could be comfortable, but she was smaller than me, so she had more room to be there than I would have. As I looked longer I noticed that she was reading her favorite book, It looked so worn down from the amount of times she had read it, but she continues to read the same book nonetheless. Her hair looks messy as it’s been thrown up in a bun, but the type that looked flawless no matter how she would have thrown it up. Her grey sweats are in action which is being complicated by a basic black singlet top which match the black frames her of glasses. Her foot was swinging back and forth very slowly and I can tell she was zoned out to the world. 

Even though I lived with her, she never really showed this side of herself to anyone, the carefree side where she doesn’t wear make up and looks like a regular human being. She was flawed, we all are. But for some reason, the longer I looked at her, the more my attraction for her began to develop. Before this moment I have never seen (Y/n) this way before but it was like she was exposed, naked to the eye, metaphorically of course. She was letting me see her, and she didn’t even know it. I started to think about her naked after the metaphor and suddenly I found myself shifting and using my hand to cover the bulge that pressed against my pants. I decided to retreat back to my room and deal with my situation going on below. I couldn’t tell her what I was feeling, She was my friend. I didn’t even know if she felt that way, but I knew I could fix the problem now.

I walked into my room and locked the door behind me, placing my coffee mug on the bedside table next to me. I sat down on the bed and exhaled. I felt stressed and turned on at the same time. My hand slid down inside my sweat pants and grabbed onto my hard length. My fingers gripped around the base and I began to pump myself as I thought of (Y/n). Breathing became a problem as it hitched up into my throat. I had to hold back my moans of pleasure because I didn’t want her to hear what I was doing in here, especially since I was turned on because of her. I started to build up the tempo, my hand gliding from the tip to the base over and over. I tried to breathe it out, but I couldn’t hold it in, a quiet moan just happened to escape my lips. I bit my lip, trying to keep myself quiet. I gripped myself a little more and pushed the limits of tempo once again, this cause me to groan again, not realising it, because now I was just so caught up in the moment.

“(Oh (Y/n)”

I was reaching the end of my rope.  I knew I watch going to come soon, I just had to let it out. Closer and closer, the feeling was gaining up on me. I pumped and pumped, My member just throbbing in my hand as I do so until I reach the peak. I feel the liquid against my sweats as it begins to slide down my leg. I exhale in relief and try to catch my breathe, I’ve never had the moment feel so intense before. I wasn’t sure if that was because I was just pent up sexually or if it had anything to do with the way I felt about (Y/n) just before. I stand up and take my sweats off, to change them. I should probably go shower first though. I grab my towel and wrap it around my waist. I go to walk down the stairs then realise I should probably go check on (Y/n) to see if she heard anything. I did call her name out earlier. Hopefully she didn’t hear me. 

I quietly walk back up to the office and place myself just far enough that I can stick my head into the view. As I look in, I notice that she’s still reading her book, but the one thing I didn’t notice before was the pair of earphones coming from her ears. I don’t remember if I saw them before , or if she put them in afterwards. I wasn’t game to ask either. I simply walked backwards into the hallway until I reached the stairs, making my way down to go shower.

friends with benefits au

This is the second part of the childhood best friends au. First part here.

Words: 1.6k
Rating: Mature

“Holy f-“ Percy’s curse was muffled by a hand over his mouth. Jason laughed behind him, before he got back to sucking a bruise into Percy’s neck. Jason rolled his hips again and Percy had a hard time keeping his voice down or controlling the noises spilling from his throat. Percy’s jeans were bunched around his knees, his shirt half pulled up his torso and his head thrown back to rest against Jason’s shoulder. His knees were getting weak, but Jason held most of his weight with an arm snaked around his waist. Jason was the worst tease, thrusting into him with a pace slow enough to be considered torture and touching him everywhere but where Percy wanted him to. He hated it as much as he loved it. 

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“It was a difficult pregnancy. I was in so much pain all the time and the doctors couldn’t tell me why. I thought it would get easier when he was born, but it got even more difficult. I knew even in the hospital that he was different because every moment that I wasn’t holding him, he would scream. He can barely sit still. He won’t sit still even to eat. I have to watch so closely at all times, especially when he’s around other children, because he can be a little too much for them. Other parents have been saying to me for so long that he’ll grow out of it. I’m convinced now that every child is different and that what applies to their children might not apply to mine. But we just keep praying and hoping he’ll grow out of it.”
“What’s been your happiest moment as a parent?”
“The first time he told me he loved me. He just kept touching my face over and over again, saying: ‘Love you. Love you. Love you.’”

lmao don’t expect me to just stop thinking about SoSoo just because the drama ended,, like you don’t understand,, they are a part of Me now, anything else I will ever watch I will reference it back to them like ‘Damn this character is such a Wang So’,,, like I will legit ship things that remind me of them only,,, my life will be a neverending cycle of could-be SoSoo Moments ok

Deja vu

*gif and pic from google search* 

Part three of Dream girl imagine.  Part Two: Dreams and Reality

Dean x Reader

Word count: 3202

Lines borrowed from All Hell Breaks Loose part 1 in bold

*A/N: I’m really excited with this story’s direction and I’ll try my best to get the next parts up as fast as I can. I really hope you love it as much as I do. :)*

You woke to the early signs of dawn through an unfamiliar windshield. A thick curtain of sleep dulled your senses but the new tight surroundings kick-started your nerves. You jerked and your feet slammed into what you slowly established was a door as the shocks zipped up your legs. A warm hand squeezed yours.  “Morning.”

Maneuvering around, you sat up and rubbed your eyes. A few precious seconds for you to recall where you were and why. Dean eyed you warily and you turned around, checking the backseat where Serena still slept under a blanket. “So, that wasn’t a dream?”

He cleared his throat, “not quite. How… Ah, how are you?” He rubbed the back of his neck then smothered a laugh.

“I'm… Okay. I guess.” He reached over and smoothed some hair off your forehead and tucked it behind your ear. “It’s a little weird.” You giggled despite the panic that just thrust you from sleep. You combed your fingers through the rest of your hair while staring out the windshield. “I’ve sat next to you wearing way less and yet, I don’t know what to do with myself now.” You took a peek at him from the corner of your eye with a rush of exhilaration at those memories. He was smiling but he looked exhausted. “Did you find out anything?”

He shook his head and scrubbed a hand down his face. “No. Heading to meet a friend and if I don’t hear back from any of my contacts by then, I’ll call them.”

Gazing at his profile, you were marveling over the similarities. Not that you knew anything about why it was even possible but there didn’t seem to be a bit of difference between this man and the one in your dreams. He stifled a yawn and stretched his hands without taking them off the wheel. You thought about all the stories he told about his younger brother and knew exactly what he would do to get him back. “You should let me drive. Just give me the directions.”

His head snapped your way, “what?”

“You heard me. Either let me drive or we should stop because you look like shit and I don’t feel like dying today.”

His mouth dropped open and flapped a few times before he screwed it shut and focused on the road again. His jaw muscles bulged and a wave of indecision rolled through you. He wanted to keep going but he was worried about you driving his precious piece of machinery that was more like family to him than most people could believe.

“I’m an excellent driver.” You placed your right hand over your heart and held up your left, “I swear.”

He watched you from the corner of his eye for a few moments then pulled over to the side of the road. “Just so I can grab a couple hours of sleep. That’s it.”

You smirked, “I understand you are not handing Baby over to me but only allowing me to drive momentarily.”

He pointed his finger but you caught the lift at the corner of his mouth that he was trying to hide. “No funny business.”

You nodded and slid across the seat. He watched you with his hands white-knuckling the wheel. You leaned into him and whispered, “you can trust me. I know how much baby means to you.” Were his lips this full in your dreams? And his eyes, were there ever this vivid green?

His gaze dropped to your mouth and in an instant, you were against him, tasting coffee and spearmint. His hand snaked through your hair and grasped the back of your head. He deepened the kiss and your body responded with electricity ricocheting from head to toe but a desperate need for skin to meet skin gnawed at your insides.

A loud throat clearing made you jump back and glance wildly around but you found it hard to concentrate on anything with your body still tingling and screaming for more. Finally, you gained some semblance of control and turned toward the noise.

Serena was sitting up in the backseat staring at you and heat rushed into your cheeks. This was not any dream of yours. “Morning.” Your voice was strangled and you turned to Dean to find he had already escaped. You narrowed your eyes as you tracked his movement around the front of the car. He winked.

Serena grumbled, “glad to see you taking all the weird shit like a trooper.”

You slid behind the steering wheel and had to move the front seat up to reach the pedals but didn’t know how. “It’s weird but not how you think. I know him.” It seemed strange to say but even though this was the first time you’d seen him in the real world, you’d known him for years. It was difficult to describe that to her because she seemed more freaked out by that fact.

“Do you really?”

You caught her gaze in the rearview mirror. Even in the dim light, you could read her like your favorite book. There were only a few times when she let her guard down completely and it caused you to pause, especially with the worry that creased her brow and the fear that pulled her lips into a tight line. The glaze in her eyes implored you to see reason and proceed with caution.

You’d only seen this page a handful of times but it was enough to know she was serious and caused the first real doubt to creep up. It was mere seconds in time and yet it felt like a full conversation had taken place before the passenger door opened and Dean dropped into the seat.

There were so many things you weren’t sure about, so how could you possibly tell her it was okay? You looked at Dean and everything disappeared. The worry, uncertainty, and the weirdness of it all melted away with one look into his familiar face. You couldn’t explain that either. “Can this move forward?”

Dean grinned, “yeah.” He leaned forward and grabbed something under the seat, “there’s a rod underneath you. We both have to push it up and then I can slide the bench forward.” You followed the instruction and the bench rolled you closer to the pedals. “Good?”

You buckled in, gave him a thumbs up, and rolled the car back onto the road before hitting the gas. You made sure to avoid the rearview mirror as much as possible until you could talk openly with Serena without making Dean uncomfortable.

“Nice.” He relayed the simple directions to the meet up with his friend Bobby then leaned back against the seat. “Just go easy on her.”

“Got it.” Your lips twitched upward as baby opened up on the highway. “Relax and get some sleep. You’ve got nothing to worry about.”

You took it as a compliment when he fell asleep within minutes. Serena was laying down when you glanced into the rearview. You figured she wasn’t sleeping but giving you the silent treatment. You spent the next thirty minutes trying to decide if you deserved it or not and never came to a solid decision.

Four hours later, you pulled into the motel where Dean was supposed to meet his friend. There were two other cars in the parking lot and a lone blue truck parked just off the highway.   

“Dean.” You shook him awake as Serena got out of the car and headed toward the motel office without a word. You didn’t want to think what she could be doing but you already started formulating an argument for why it was best to stick with Dean. You didn’t want to choose between them and hoped like hell she would understand.

Dean stirred, a sleepy smile crinkled his eyes as they fluttered open. “Hey, gorgeous.” He looked around and you watched as reality crashed in around him. No, this was not your dream world.  

“I think your friend is here.” You pointed to the truck and the older man heading straight for the impala.

Dean climbed out of the car then looked in at you. “You coming?”

You glanced at the man approaching. “Are you sure?”

“Remember the man I said my dad dropped us off with a lot as kids?” You nodded. “That’s Bobby.”

You turned to look at the man wearing the ratty trucker hat with new eyes. A few of your favorite stories Dean had told over the years had that man at the center of them. It felt like looking at a beloved uncle even though you never truly met him but this wouldn’t be the first time. Counting Sam and the familiarity you felt when you saw him, this would be your third time in twenty-four hours. “And I thought the dreams were weird.”

“What?” Dean leaned down a bit farther outside of the passenger door.

“Sorry.” You climbed out and followed Dean’s lead.

He introduced you with only a moment’s pause as a friend and even though Bobby gave you a curious look, he said hello and shook your hand. Then the two men talked about things that went over your head and you looked around for Serena, wondering what was taking her so long. Just as you started to worry, you saw her come out of one of the ground floor rooms. Your stomach dropped.

You strode across the parking lot to meet her hoping to smooth things over without Dean overhearing. “Did you get a room?” Voicing your worst fear then noticed her head. “Is your hair wet?”

“Yeah. Wait, what?” She glanced back at the room. “Oh no. I just… got a couple minutes to wash up.”


“Listen, I’ve been going along with this insanity and I haven’t really said anything.” She held up her hand before you could interrupt, “I really haven’t and I’m still not one hundred percent on board this crazy train but I will stay with you. I just needed to wash up to feel a little hint of normal. Okay?”

You threw your arms around her and squeezed. “Thank you, Ser. I know this is insane but I do know him and the reason for that is still making my head spin. The things I’ve learned from him about this stuff… We don’t want to be alone if the demons come back. I don’t want to leave him but I seriously couldn’t be this calm without you.”

She pulled away and braced her hands on your shoulders, looking you in the eye. “You’ve always been a little bit crazy but that’s why we get along so well. Our crazy fits and for the record, I will always have your back.” She let go and glanced at Dean. “Who’s the new dude?”

“Bobby. He’s practically been a father to the boys.” You glanced over and saw Dean on the phone. You were pretty sure Bobby had been watching you but you ignored it. “Wait, so how did you get in the room to wash up?”

Serena grinned at the yearning look on your face. She pulled the key out of her back pocket. “I traded for thirty minutes.”

You grimaced, “what did you trade?”

Serena laughed, “showed off my boobs for three minutes to get thirty minutes in a clean room. And I still have about ten minutes left.” You were still gaping at her when she threw her arm over your shoulder and turned you towards the room. “You’ll feel ten times better with clean hair. I guarantee it.”

You glanced over your shoulder, Dean was still on the phone but was starting to look agitated. “Okay, but you wash my hair and we can be out in under five minutes.”

“Yeah, I know. You’re lucky his brother’s cute.”


It was only a few hours drive to another meeting place called the Roadhouse but you had more than enough awkward moments that made you less sure about this whole ‘go with Dean no matter what’ thing. Bobby didn’t seem unfriendly perse, but he didn’t seem too happy that you and Serena were along for the ride or at least that was the feeling that you got. Dean didn’t seem to notice or just didn’t mention it.

Dean turned onto a dirt road and you gasped. Bobby sent another unreadable glance your way but stiffened when he too saw the smoldering remains of a building. Dean rolled the car to a stop in front of the building then both he and Bobby jumped out and walked into the smoking remains.

Serena looked at you, her brow practically at her hairline. You stepped out of the car and she followed close behind as you walked around the outside of the devastation. It was difficult to look at the building and know that people Dean and Bobby knew might be in there when it went up in flames. Then it hit you like a swift fist to the gut, something so thick and heavy it almost bowled you over. Your gaze searched for Dean and found him, letting go of something in a pile of charcoal debris.

Serena’s hand pressed on your back and you finally inhaled. “You okay?”

You had a hard time fighting the idea that some of these feelings that didn’t seem to belong to you were all in your head but you had no reason to feel such anguish. You stared at your feet and pulled in a few deep breathes. “I think I’m good. I just… I think I saw part of a body.” She definitely didn’t want to hear about your insane idea of shared psychic emotions.

Serena nodded, “yeah. I haven’t been looking too close. This shit is just…”

“More than cruel.”

“What was that?” Bobby’s voice carried and you both turned around.

Dean and Bobby were standing on opposite sides of the impala and looked to be in a heated discussion but then you saw Dean grimace before he clutched his head. You started toward them watching as their conversation continued. Then Dean groaned and bent over the hood of the car. Bobby called his name and rushed around the car but you were already running past him. You reached Dean and placed your hand on his back out of instinct. You bent down trying to see his face. “Dean!”

He looked up at you, pain contorting his features and an image flashed in your mind. You gasped and Dean tilted his head as if he was trying to figure you out. His face began to clear except for the furrowed brow as your hand continued to glide up the back of his neck to his head. He straightened and you let your hand fall away.

Could he really be so surprised that you would run to his side? How many times had you tried to erase his pain in the dreams? Even if you couldn’t do much, you could at least be there. He continued to look at you but your mind was racing with so many questions, you didn’t have time to figure him out.

“Dean, you with us?” Bobby asked, his voice gruffer than earlier.

Dean turned toward him, “I saw Sam.”

“What else did you see?”

Dean rubbed his temples and dropped his head. You answered for him. “A bell with a tree on it.”

Bobby’s gaze shifted to you, “what?”

Once again the hairs raised on the back of your neck and you wanted to shy away from him but you stood your ground. Dean glanced at you still with that inquisitive look. You caught Dean’s eye and continued. “An old bell with a large tree… Cast or engraved on it.”

Dean broke the stare and turned his gaze to Bobby. He nodded as he said, “Sam’s there.”

Something passed over the older man’s face that you couldn’t place. He pinned you with a suspicious look, “what are you?” His question hit you like a bullet and you stared at a loss for words. “How did you see what he saw in his vision?”

Dean took a small step in front of you and raised his hand to Bobby. “How Sam got that to me… it could have easily gone to you if you touched me. We don’t completely know what we’re dealing with here but she’s on our side. She’s human, Bobby. I trust her.”

You practically felt the emphasis he put on the word trust and something shifted inside you. Your gaze slid to Dean and then to Serena just beyond him and noticed the look on her face. Dean had just done something that no words from you could ever do. In that one action with those words, Dean had earned her respect and maybe some trust too.

“I know where Sam is.” Bobby didn’t offer anything else as he grabbed the map off the hood and walked around to the passenger side of the car. He opened the door then stared at the three of you still staring at him. “Well, get your asses in gear. I’ll give you directions.”

Dean glanced at you before opening the back door for you and Serena. He squeezed your hand as you passed him and you were caught by his gaze for a moment. It was as if he was trying to say something but you didn’t understand. He waited for you to climb in then shut the door.

You watched him through the window and saw something cross his face as he looked around then shook his head. It worried you even though you couldn’t quite pinpoint what it meant. The only thing you could think of was Sam and that you were pretty sure you’d seen that look before when he was talking about his little brother. That thought didn’t make you feel any better at the moment. Actually, it made you feel about ten times worse. So much for the uplifting clean hair.

You watched him as he looked into the rearview mirror but his gaze didn’t even waver your way like he was determined not to. The thought deepened the pit in your stomach. “We’ll find a motel on the way. You don’t have to get more involved than you already are.” 

Serena exhaled audibly and you suddenly felt sheepish for thinking the worst but Dean still wouldn’t meet your eye. He was concentrating on the road harder than you’d ever seen him. You decided to lean back and try to get some sleep instead of feeding the growing heavy mass inside you. You tried to believe it was just exhaustion but you haven’t been very good at lying to yourself for years now.

Serena touched your shoulder and patted her thigh when you looked her way. You twisted and lay down with your head in her lap. Her fingers brushed through your hair and you closed your eyes. You didn’t want to stare at the back of Dean’s head going over every detail until you crumbled under the weight of what could possibly be an overanalyzed reaction. You didn’t want to think at all and thankfully, your exhaustion once again took you away.  

Next part: Leave a mark

@duchessofwinchester , @jodyri , @jamrsgang , @moonstonemystyk

haycon  asked:

Hey! If you're still in the mood for Zimbits prompts, I'm always a sucker for new parent fluff😊

It’s been three days, and Jack hasn’t slept for more than seven hours total.  He isn’t surprised; he’d seen it coming a mile away.  Having a newborn baby in the house may not be quite as terrifying as he imagined it would be, but that’s only because he has a very vivid imagination.  It’s still completely terrifying.

Bitty, of course, is perfectly at ease.  He approaches parenting with the same fierceness and confidence with which he approaches baking.  

Jack, on the other hand, feels like he’s drowning.  Constantly.  The first morning he had dropped both the mugs he was holding–the coffees for Bitty and himself–on the kitchen floor when the sound of Suzie crying burst through the baby monitor.  He had booked it up the steps and skidded to a halt by her crib before he even realized he had a piece of glass stuck in his foot.  Suzie was fine, of course.  There was nothing wrong; she had simply woken up.  Jack had let himself breathe again, and Bitty had come padding into the room a few seconds later, rubbing his eyes and tilting his head at Jack in question.

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All Time Tour (All/ATL/Ashton) (Part 6)

You followed Alex back into the venue, thankful that the lighting was dim, it would hide the fact that you’d been crying. You stayed halfway hidden in Alex’s shadow when you reached the rest of the guys. Zack leaned over to you “Don’t worry, y/n. We took turns watching your camera for you”. He knew better than to ask you if you were okay. Them guarding your most prized possession was enough to let you know they were there for you.

Your eyes drifted out to the younger boys on stage now. They looked so happy and that was enough to put a small smile on your face. They were playing She’s Kinda Hot so you knew you had missed their whole set, only making it back in for their two song encore. You felt the disappointment growing inside of you. I should be able to calm down faster. I shouldn’t be having panic attacks. I ruin everything you mentally scolded yourself. You felt your chest tightening and tears starting to well up in your eyes. It took every ounce of energy you had to push those feelings back down to wherever they came from. 

“Sometimes I’m feeling like I’m going insane. GASKARTH told me that I got bad brains. But we’re alright though” Ashton sang into his mic. You looked up and had trouble holding back a big smile, an actual smile right after a panic attack. Ashton was projected onto the big screens behind him. He pointed at you and your brother with his drumstick and winked. Alex glanced back at you and noticed the smile on your face, which he returned. He looked almost relieved. 

When they boys came off stage they were still so full of energy that you were sure that Rian and Zack would have to take them on a run or something before they went back to the bus. You kept your distance, not ready to interact with so many people at once. Ashton made his way over to you. “Are you alright?” he asked quietly, dipping his head down so you could hear him better. “Yea” you replied, not really wanting to get into it. He grabbed your arms gently to hold you in place as he leaned his forehead against yours. “Y/n” he breathed, searching your eyes for the real answer. “It was just a panic attack Ashton. I’ve had dozens of them. It just doesn’t get easier” you admitted. 

He seemed satisfied with that, as if he already knew not to ask questions. “You can stay on our bus again tonight if you want. You can talk to me or we can sit in silence” he offered as he pulled away. He cheeks flushed and he quickly added “You know, in case you don’t want to be alone or anything”. “I think I’d actually rather be alone tonight. And closer to Alex” you told him. He nodded “I’m just a text or call away if you need me”. “Thank you Ashton” you said after offering a shy smile. You stepped back and his hands dropped back to his sides. He watched as you collected your camera and tripod. 

After you had all your things you immediately went back to the bus, not waiting for the guys. You honestly did want to be alone for a bit. You walked quickly past the screaming girls who had made their way to the back of the venue, only to be held back by the fence. Even though you wanted to be alone the silence on the bus was unbearable. You changed into the clothes you had stolen from Ashton and Luke last night. It’s not like they’re getting them back tonight anyway you told yourself. Then you crawled into your bunk, placed your headphones over your ears, and closed your eyes. You drifted off while listening to Hallucinations by Angels & Airwaves.

You woke up because you had a dream where Alex called you out on stage and you couldn’t get to the microphone. All eyes were on you and anytime you reached out to grab it an awful feedback noise came through the speakers. When you realized it was just a dream you were relieved. You pulled your headphones off and realized the bus was silent and moving so you assumed the guys were asleep and suddenly you felt lonely. You wanted to just be near someone. 

“I take it back” you texted Ashton “I don’t want to be alone anymore”. “Then come here” he sent back a few minutes later. You closed your eyes in silent frustration “I can’t just stop the stupid bus”. “I’m on the couch y/n” he replied. You didn’t move for a few seconds. What? Why is he on our bus? You asked yourself. You finally pulled the curtain away and rolled out of the bunk, meaning to land with your feet under you but that just didn’t happen. You sighed and glanced up from where your butt had landed on the floor. Your hands immediately went to cover your face when you saw him smiling and silently laughing at you. Ashton was right where he said he was, one the couch in the back of the bus. 

“What are you doing here?” you asked quietly as you pulled a bottle of water from the cabinet before you sat down. “Enjoying the show apparently” he smirked. You shot him a look. He shrugged “Jack and I switched buses for the night. I wanted to be here incase you didn’t want to be alone”. You didn’t know it but he was blushing in the darkness, hoping he didn’t come off as desperate. “Is that my shirt?” he asked quickly, not wanting to linger on the subject of why he was there. “Yea” you let out a small laugh. “And Luke’s shorts” you added. When you glanced over at him you saw a hint of a smile on his face.

You leaned over to rest your head on his shoulder and yawned. “Why are you awake anyway?” Ashton asked. “I had a nightmare. I was onstage with Alex and couldn’t get to the mic. Then, when I could reach it, it just gave off this terrible feedback” you told him. “Because of earlier?” he asked. You didn’t respond. “I think you should watch the video you took” he said. “Why?” you were sure your confusion was evident in your voice. “You should watch yourself sing. Trust me” he said. You sighed, not wanting to move but doing it anyway. You reached for on of the drawers that were under the couch, where you kept your camera and laptop. 

You transferred the video from your camera to the laptop but you couldn’t bring yourself to click on it. “Here” you said, pushing the laptop onto Ashton’s lap. You thought for a second and got up to close the door that separated the small room from the bunks, you didn’t want to wake the guys up. You didn’t bother with the light, which had never been turned on. Ashton was busy trying to find Remembering Sunday on the video. His face was light up by the screen and you watched for a second as he bit his lip and concentrated. 

You sat back down next to him and pulled your knees up to your chest. “Here it is” he said, turning the computer screen to you. He was about to hit play when you grabbed his hand “Wait. I don’t want to watch it anymore”. “Y/n. I think you should watch it” he said. It was silent for a few minutes, until you dropped his hand. “Okay” you breathed. 

He clicked play on the video and you were back in the moment, feeling the emotions all over again. Your breathing quickened and you tightened your arms around you legs to keep your hands from shaking. “It’s okay y/n. It’s over. Just keep watching please” Ashton said, turning to face you. He didn’t look away, he was watching you watch the video now. You tried to focus on watching the video and slowing your breathing at the same time.

You held your breath completely when you saw yourself enter the frame, jogging out onto stage. The crowd erupted into cheers, you missed that the first time. You cringed when you heard your voice coming through the speakers. A low “Woah” came from one of the lads standing near the camera and then they went silent for the rest of your part. It was like another person was onstage, you weren’t sure it was really you. That girl acted a hell of a lot like Alex and seemed to be feeding off the energy of the crowd. The boys burst into cheers as you struck your pose before you ran off the stage. “Incredible” you heard Ashton’s voice on the video. He stopped it before you could watch yourself run away in a panic.

You looked up and met his eyes. “I’ve never watched a video of me performing. I refused to” you admitted. “Why?” he asked, not breaking eye contact. “Alex is the singer. I work behind the scenes” you informed him. “Y/n, that was awesome” he said happily. You shook your head. “Do you need to see it again?” he raised an eyebrow. “Please no” you replied. 

“Y/n. You’re great at photography” Ashton complimented you. “I like to think so” you responded. “Why do you think you’re good at it?” he asked. It caught you off guard. “Well.. Uh. I’ve had lots of practice and opportunities” you answered after a moment. “Doesn’t it come naturally?” he asked. You thought for a second “The idea for the shots? Yes. And knowing the right angles. But it took time for me to learn the skills to perfect that”. “Then why can’t singing be the same way?” he asked with a knowing look. He trapped you. “Well” you started, not sure you were going with it anyway. “I don’t want to hear it” he shushed you. “It’s the same” he added confidently.

Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4 // Part 5 // Part 7 // Part 8 // Part 9 //
Part 10 // Part 11 // Part 12 // Part 13