lumping yeah!

“Mom,” Dean gasps, relieved beyond measure. It had been exhausting cutting their way through hoards of demons and angels alike, but they’d finally found her among the wreckage. “You’re ok.”

Sam raised an eyebrow, spattered with black gore. “And in charge, apparently.”

Mary made an embarrassed little gesture, the beret on her head tipping down slightly. “There’s no nationalities here anymore. Just people. All of us, united against this. It’s what I wanted from the beginning.”

Dean nods; he can appreciate the simplicity. “Still, you look like you did pretty well for yourself.”

Mary smiles, small and secret. “Well, I had some help from a friend.” 

She looks over her shoulder. Dean and Sam twist to look as well.

From around a pillar of stone comes a snatch of a coat whipping in the wind, not tan but black, but the eyes are still the same.

Dean’s lips part in surprise. Sam gives an awed smile. “Cas,” he says.

This Castiel joins Mary’s side and sticks his hands into the pocket of his coat. “Hello,” he says, stiffly but almost shyly. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Dean’s heart drops to somewhere around his knees. I’ve heard. Because this is a world where Sam and Dean never existed. Castiel has never met them before.

Castiel looks at him. “You must be Dean,” he says, but it’s wrong. The voice is the same, but the way it says his name isn’t. The tenderness that comes with the sort of friendship they had is totally absent, and it’s so jarring that Dean actually feels like he’s going to cry.

What is it with the revived and his expectations lately?

Dean swallows past the lump in his throat. “Yeah,” he croaks.

It’s been six months since Castiel died in the real world. They threw themselves into finding a way to save the one person they could, and now they have this to deal with.

Or, well, Dean does. Castiel turns to Sam and says, “I hear I’m a ‘hugger’” and Sam swoops him up into an embrace, laughing loudly and slapping him on the back like nothing’s amiss. Like this is a gift.

It’s not. It’s just twisting the knife deeper.

“Dean?” Mary asks him.

He snaps his eyes back to her. He shakes his head and turns on his heel.

He can feel the familiar weight of a pair of eyes boring holes into his back as he walks away.

go on like we belong (together)

Vex has a bit of a trip to make. Percy offers to come along. It’s all a little more complicated than she expects. [2K]

@percyvex mentioned a perc’ahlia road trip au and I have no self control so. happy birthday kaity!! think of this as a taste of things to come <3

“You coming then?” Vax asks, when the silence has stretched too long.

“Yeah,” Vex says around the lump in her throat. “Yeah, I’m–– I’ll be there.”

“Do you want me to––”

“No.” She shakes her head, even though he can’t see her. “I’m, ah. I’ll get there. Drive, y’know.”

“Sure, yeah. Take as much time as you need. We’ll be here.”


The line goes quiet again. Vex sucks in a deep breath and tries to come up with something––anything––to fill the silence.

“Love you, Stubby,” Vax says quietly, voice all soft and careful, and she wishes it weren’t such a comfort. “Things’ll–– it’ll be okay.”

“Yeah. Love you too. I’ll see you next week.”

“Sure, yeah.”

Percy’s staring when she hangs up the phone. She smiles, and it doesn’t fit right across her face, too crooked and shallow.

“Bad news, then?”

Keep reading


Words: 2,892
Pairing: Dean & Sam x Sister!Reader
Warnings: language
A/N: Just a fun little protective Sam and Dean to the rescue fic! Hope you enjoy! Your name: submit What is this?

”Oh, come on… You’ve gotta be kidding me,” you muttered. Your head felt foggy and your eyelids drooped over your eyes, refusing to open easily. You tried to stretch to relieve the stiffness and heaviness in your limbs but you were only met with more achy pains in your arms and ankles. Blinking your eyes open with some effort you looked up to find scratchy rope binding your wrists together and tying them to a headboard. An exploratory glance down at your ankles showed the same rope keeping your feet together. You tugged at the ropes on your wrists. They seemed secure.

You let out an annoyed sigh and rolled over on your side as best you could to take in your surroundings: unfamiliar.

”Oh, you have GOT to be kidding me! SAM! DEAN! Really?!” you yelled. “And you frickin’ drugged me this time? ” You tugged at the restraints on your wrists. “I’m gonna kill those two when I get out of here—I THOUGHT WE WERE PAST THIS! SAM?”

Suddenly the door banged open and you stared past your feet at the stranger who had just breezed in, apparently unconcerned by your yelling.

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giveaway drabble

Heyo! As you may remember, I did a 500-word drabble giveaway recently to celebrate hitting 500 followers. The winner, @parinite, asked for Klance fluff with trans Keith coming out to Lance! I’ve been wanting to write trans Keith for a while, so I was really happy to get this prompt ;w; It ended up being more like 540 words, but oh well. I hope you like it! <3

I’m gonna tell him.

Pidge already knows. Hunk’s sharp enough to have figured it out. Shiro, of course, has known forever.

So why is telling Lance so daunting?

Keith used to buck Lance’s arm off when he attempted to throw it around Keith’s shoulders, so that he wouldn’t feel the tell-tale edge of the binder underneath his shirt. That risk is gone now, and Keith’s more himself than ever. Still, wondering what Lance might say has Keith’s heart leaping up and punching him in the fucking teeth.

Even now – now that they’ll grab each other for noogies and sit together on the couch with their arms brushing, now that sometimes their eyes catch for a moment too long, and Keith’s convinced that if he just leaned in, he’d feel those grinning lips kiss his own – even now, it’s scary.

So scary just thinking it has his mind turning to white static.

It’s because you like him, taunts a voice in his ear. Keith grits his teeth, imagines stabbing it.

“Hey, Lance? There’s something … I wanna tell you.”

“Oh? Is this it? You’re finally admitting I’m your superior?” Lance puts a hand to his chest. “Sorry, I’m getting emotional. I need to go prepare my official speech—”

“Will you shut up for two seconds?!”

That came out harsh. Shit. His hands are shaking.

Lance seems to realize he’s serious, and goes quiet. Keith takes a deep breath.

“Lance – I’m trans.” Saying it is not a relief. If anything, it makes the butterflies in his belly multiply and colonize his entire body. “And … I thought you should know.”

Lance’s expression softens. Keith’s heartbeat does not slow down.

“Oh,” Lance says. He sounds a little surprised – just a little. “Cool. Thanks for trusting me.”

“Yeah,” says Keith. His head is spinning, his stomach clenching.

“Actually … I have something I wanna confess, too.” Lance rubs the back of his head. Damn. Here it comes – rejection. Keith swallows the stone lump in his throat.


“Listen, I know this sounds fake, since you have that lame haircut and wear those gloves unironically and all. But I’m, uh, kinda into you. Maybe.” Lance’s cheeks are stained bright pink. “So I was wondering if you might … want to be my boyfriend?”

Here’s the thing about Keith: when his mind blanks out, his body takes over.

Keith’s body lifts a fist and clocks Lance right in the head.

Ow! Jeez, what was that for, asshole?”

“Lance, what the fuck?”

“So … I guess that’s a no?”

“I – no! I mean – no it’s not. I mean. Yes.” Fuck. Breathe, fool. “I mean. I like you too.”

Lance’s face lights up like the goddamn sun, and it has Keith’s chest twisting, tight and sweet. “Oh. Dude. Nice.”

“Shut up.” He swallows. “And I’m sorry for hitting you.”

“Hey, it’s okay. I’ll get you back.”

“You can try.”

And Lance leans in, fast as a flash, to press the softest kiss to Keith’s lips.

And maybe his shit-eating grin is pretty cute.

Maybe it’s all Keith has ever wanted.

Lance waggles his eyebrows. “How was that, boyfriend?”

Keith doesn’t reply. Just loops his arms around Lance’s shoulders, and pulls him back in.

sooo.. that’s that! thanks again to everyone who entered <3 find more of my writing on ao3!

Temper - Barry Allen x Reader

You were normally in control of your abilities; sure there were a couple hiccups soon after you’d gotten them, but once you figured it out they were easy to manipulate. Of course, you hadn’t been so…furious before. No, enraged was a better word. 
Of course, your hiccups had never led to somebody’s death, either.
You stood on the side and watched as other guests of the art show screamed and ran away from the body that just burst into flames. Your best friend’s boyfriend had only screamed a short while before he’d died. He was dead before he hit the floor, all burned up because of you.
You gulped, unable to look away from him as a security guard grabbed a fire extinguisher and sprayed the flames with it. The heat that had flushed your skin was gone, returning to a natural temperature.
Thankfully your friend was still in the bathroom with her sister applying makeup to her bruises. This was the opening of her gallery, and it was supposed to be one of the best moments of her life; instead her boyfriend gave her a black eye. After you and her sister learned the truth you each had different ideas as to what to do; one wanted to call the police, the other wanted to give him a black eye. That’s what you were headed out there to do, sock him in the eye and show the entire room what a monster he was.
Instead, you raised his core body temperature so high he spontaneously combusted. Well…maybe it wasn’t so spontaneous. Although it wasn’t on purpose either. You’d been seeing red–this wasn’t…murder. You shook your head as blue and red flashing lights appeared outside, the police already arriving.
Somewhere between looking out the window and watching police come in, and the body being covered by a white sheet you were ushered away with your friend and her sister. Thankfully her sister took over most of the consoling, but you stayed close. Even when the CSI came by and started to investigate, your heart pounding, you made sure to keep one hand on her shoulder the entire time.
They couldn’t prove it was you. Yes, you’d admitted wanting to knock out a couple of his teeth for what he’d done, but that wasn’t setting a man on fire.
Right, there was zero evidence linking any of this to you. Unless you came out and said, “Yes, I can control temperatures of all kinds; drinks, room, body. And yes, I lit that man on fire with my mind. No, I didn’t know that’s what could happen.”
Yeah, you were in the clear. But why was it when you watched the green-eyed CSI confer with the detective you’d given your statement to you felt so…guilty. Not just guilty, more like it was written on your face. 
A voice in your ear made you jump. Your friend’s sister. “I get that he’s cute, but could you focus?”
You turned to her as she hugged your friend closer. Without thinking you told her, “You’re better off without him.”
She shook her head. “I love him.”
While you could honestly say you didn’t feel sorry that you’d been the one to cause that man’s death, you hated knowing you caused your friend pain. You reached out to touch her, to give her some kind of support but pulled back. “I’ll see if we can go home now.”
You stood and looked around until Det. West approached with the CSI. He’d given you a hard look when you said you were there to punch the dead man, the “victim” he’d said, but seemed to change his tune a bit when you told him he’d hit your friend. Still, when you asked him now if you could leave, he said he had a couple more questions for you when you.
“Your friends are free to leave,” he said, “since they weren’t present. But I just have a couple things to go over if you don’t mind.”
You nodded. “Sure.”
You said your goodbyes to your friend, knowing she was in good hands with family. It was a little difficult to turn back to the detective, but after a deep breath you managed to stay in control of any runaway emotions.
“What’s the first thing you remember when you came out of the bathroom?” Det. West asked. 
You thought a moment, remembering how your eyes had gone over all the guests until you found who you were looking for. “I remember seeing him laughing with someone.”
You shrugged, trying not to tug on your formal attire. “I don’t remember.” You looked down, unable to look the man in the eyes. It was doubly difficult to keep your gaze forward with the CSI also there. Which made you wonder–why was he there? Why would a CSI be taking part in the interview? “I just remember seeing him laughing–and happy–while she was trying to make up excuses for what he did.”
“That must have made you mad,” the CSI said. “If someone had hit my best friend…” He looked to the detective, sharing a knowing glance.
You cleared your throat, swallowing the lump that was forming. “Yeah, well, that’s why I was going to go give him a taste of his own medicine.” Your hands balled into fists, a movement that didn’t go unnoticed by the men in front of you. “And then it got really hot and next thing I knew he was…on fire.” Your fingers relaxed.
“It got hot?” Det West asked.
You blinked out of a haze, finding the heat had already begun to rise in the room. You swallowed again and nodded. “Uh, yeah. But I think that might have just been me.” Another shrug.
Det. West looked at the CSI as if that confirmed your guilt. You wanted to start making excuses for yourself but found there wasn’t much else you could say. It would be weird if you kept talking, right?
“I think that’s all, I’ll be in touch if I have anymore questions,” the detective told you. “But for now we’ll need a sample from you.”
“A sample?” you questioned. 
“There’s a possible toxin in the area,” the CSI piped up quickly, “so we’re getting blood samples from everyone for testing. Making sure that what happened here isn’t going to happen again.”
It better not, you thought. “I’m Barry, by the way, and I’ll be taking your…blood.”
Barry led you to the nearest table and you sat down, watching him pull various tools out of his black kit. He tied a rubber band around your upper arm and told you to make a fist before poking a needle into your vein. As you released your fist you watched the blood pour out. You looked away, seeing a few other people were having the same done to them.
Lost in thought, Barry had to tap your arm to get your attention again. “All done.”
You looked down at the little cotton ball and tape that covered the crook of your arm. “Is it wrong that I’m not sorry he’s dead?” you blurted. You quickly covered your mouth and looked at him. “Sorry–I mean…I’m sorry he’s dead, but I’m not.” You furrowed your brow, unable to explain how you felt.
Barry finished packing away his things. As he clicked the case shut, locking it, he traced his thumb over the plastic. When he looked at you he admitted, “I think I would feel the same if someone had done that to Iris. Uh, Iris is my best friend–we grew up together, she’s practically my sister–and, I don’t know why I’m telling you this.”
You smiled. “Thanks.” Of course, he didn’t know that you were the one to pull the trigger, so to speak.

Barry’s POV

Barry had never found the perpetrator so quickly, he just wished it wasn’t you. He also wished the team could agree on what to do with you. They were divided, Caitlin and Joe wanted you put in the pipeline to be interrogated further, to ensure you didn’t hurt anyone else, and he and Cisco wanted you free. Two v two. 
“They killed someone,” Caitlin argued. She didn’t seem happy with the idea of putting you into the pipeline, but she wasn’t for keeping you out. She had a point–you killed someone, but she hadn’t looked you in the eyes when you described what happened. Barry had seen the genuine surprise–the shock–on your face when you’d said the victim went up in flames. It wasn’t intentional. 
“She’s got a point,” Cisco agreed.
“I don’t think they meant to,” Barry retorted, “I don’t think they have complete control. We should be helping them, not locking them up. That’s part of what we do, isn’t?”
“Also a good point.” Cisco pointed a Twizzler at Barry.
“Even if it wasn’t intentional that’s still second degree murder,” Caitlin said. “You saw their blood cells were capable of regulating their temperature–if they can affect others or the room around them theoretically they could make a room reach absolute zero and flash freeze you.” She sent him a pointed look, most likely thinking of a certain thief with the Cold gun.
Barry turned to Joe, the only one he had to convince. He sent his foster father a pleading look. “Let me talk to them, Meta to Meta.”
“And what if they decide to roast you, too?” Joe asked. “Or freeze you like Caitlin said?”
“I’ll do what I do best,” Barry replied.
Joe sighed and ran a hand over his hair.
“If they freeze you you might not be able to do what you do best,” Cisco mentioned.
Barry looked to his friend with grinding teeth. He turned back to Joe. “Just let me talk to them–you saw them–you’re a good detective, you must know they didn’t do it on purpose.”
Joe took a moment to think it over but eventually he nodded. He held up his index finger. “You get one chance–if they attack they’re going in the pipeline.”

Your POV

One moment you were in your room, using a small hand vacuum to clear the dust from your dresser, the next you were in a field somewhere on the edge of Central City. You dropped your vacuum, letting it clatter against ground and attempt to suck up any small rocks that were nearby. 
You spun in the night, the world illuminated by the shine of the towers in the distance, as well as the full moon overhead and, oh yeah, the yellow lightning bolts that erupted around you. When they stopped you were standing no more than five feet away from a man in a red suit. You fell to the ground and picked up the vacuum, pointing it at him. “Don’t come any closer!”
You’d read the blog posts about this guy–the Flash. The guy that supposedly ran around the city and saved people at high speeds. You almost didn’t believe it, but now you had to. “I will use this!”
The whirring vacuum chose the worst moment to stop doing it’s job. The Flash grinned, of course, because who would be threatened by anyone holding a hand vacuum? And a broken one at that. You smacked it a couple times before holding it out again. “I can still hit really hard with it.”
The Flash held his hands up. “I just want to talk.” His voice sounded as if it were vibrating around you.
“Well why not talk in like…a coffee shop or something–like normal people?”
“Because you and I aren’t normal,” he replied. He stepped forward, waving his hand between you both. “You and I were given extraordinary gifts.”
You inched back, still holding the vacuum. You looked around the grassy field, knowing there was nowhere you could run. Not that it would matter if you could run anywhere. You bit your lower lip. “You don’t know that.”
“I know what you did,” he said, his voice almost pleading. 
“I-I…I don’t…” You began to shrink back. You didn’t want to say it out loud. 
“I know it was an accident.”
You raised your eyes to meet his. He gave you a small nod, urging you to admit it to yourself. You swallowed the lump in your throat for the second time that week. “I just wanted to…to hurt him.” You shook your head, lowering your hands to your sides. “I didn’t mean to…to do that. I didn’t even know that could happen.” You wet your lips. “I’ve never lost control like that before, I swear.”
A breeze brushed over your skin, running through the dying blades of grass. For a moment they were the only sound as you realized just how serious it was that you’d lost control of your abilities. Of what losing your temper really meant. What if it had been different? What if you’d been having a bad day and someone decided to cut you off on the road? Would their car blow up? Would that happen?
“I…I’m sorry.” You felt the tears began to well in your eyes as you came to terms with reality. You let the vacuum fall to the ground again. “I was just so angry…”
You listened as the Flash stepped towards you, crushing the grass beneath his boots. He was in front of you now. “I can help you.” His voice was normal, and weirdly, familiar.
You jerked your head up at the sound of a normal voice to find the CSI there. The Flash had taken his mask down, his hair sticking out in all directions, and a smile on his face. “My team and I…we can help you control it.”
You nodded. “Are you referring to my temper or my powers?”
Barry’s grin widened. “I think we can help with both.”


Requested by Anon

Pairing: Liam Dunbar x Reader
Word count: 250
Warnings: Aroused Liam, lol.

”Is that mine?” a finger tap on your shoulder made you turn your head towards the source of the familiar voice, smiling once you saw who it was.

”Yes, all my shirts were in the laundry, and yours are so cozy.” you said sweetly as you took the collar towards your nose and cuddled yourself into the well scented fabric.

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Morgan Rielly #6

Requested by Anon(s):

1.  I was wondering if I can have an imagine with Morgan Rielly about either learning how to skate or having a baby with him? Thank you!!!

2.  Can I request an imagine with Morgan Rielly? Maybe about having a baby or something along the lines of him falling in love with his best friend. Thank you so much!

*Hiii! Thank you so much! I already have one of Mo that includes a best friend, here, which is not romantic but really light and fun. I decided to do the baby/being pregnant thing since it’s the common thing. Really fluffy! I hope you like it. Enjoy!:)

Word count: 814

Originally posted by glovesdropped

The swooshing sound from the machine reminded you of the roar of the ocean. It’s also as soothing as the roar of the ocean. For a second, you thought it was touch and go, when the doctor took a longer time to find the heartbeat, but when he finally did, you felt Mo sink into his chair, releasing a breath of relief.

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HAPPY ROBRAE WEEK!!!! :D I promised I’d contribute and, although I’m not really happy with it (I’m my own worst critic), I want to share with the community anyways! So, for the theme of College AU, I made a sequel to a RobRae one-shot I wrote a while back! Do enjoy! :D

Part 1 can be found here

The last thing Raven wanted to do was be cornered by Garfield Logan in what appeared to be an interrogation.

The spry blonde youth effectively blocked her path in the hallway with his arm, and he leaned in with a mischievous glint in his jade green eyes. He was wearing a coy smile and seemed to have forgotten everything about personal space.

Raven leaned back, scowling up at him.

“Ever hear of a breath mint, Logan?” She mocked, scrunching up her nose in distaste.

Of course, his breath smelled fine. However, it was an efficient way to quickly make the highly self-conscious boy back off, if only by a little.

She saw his eyes widen in embarrassment, and he breathed against his palm to see if what she said were true.

Minty fresh, as usual.

He then fixed her with a glare and resumed his invasion of her own personal bubble, the tip of his nose a mere few inches from hers. “Nice try, but you’re not getting out of this one, Rae. I know all about professor bubble butt, and I want details.”

[follow the cut for more!]

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anonymous asked:

"this was never right"

good morning!!! here to let u know this may rip out your heart. carry on.

I could feel the tension floating in the air around us in the hotel room. Harry wasn’t looking at me and I knew it was because he was too terrified of what I was going to say.

After weeks of being apart, when we were finally together we were always fighting, we weren’t the couple we used to be. I was always yelling about how he was never home, how lonely I was, how he’d jump to hang out with the lads but couldn’t even remember to pick up the phone to call me while he was away. Harry yelling about how I was always out at clubs (“Am I supposed to just sit at home by myself while you’re gone?” I’d yell back), how if I was sleeping with someone else he’d have no idea, how when he’d asked me to let him fly me out to a concert I’d adamantly refuse.

This time, I agreed, but only to end it and I think he knew that.

He was twiddling with his thumbs, sitting on the opposite side of the bed and I knew that despite everything he didn’t quite want to do this, he wasn’t ready to let go and honestly I wasn’t sure I was either.

Because there were good times, really good times when we’d go out and get drunk together, running around the party making jokes only we understood and giggling uncontrollably all the while holding onto the other’s hand for dear life. Or sleepy mornings waking up to Harry peppering kisses all over my face, assuring me he knew I was awake and he wouldn’t stop until I got up. Or even the nights when I’d come home near to tears after a stressful day at work and Harry would run me a bath, working out the knots in my back with those magic fingers of his, assuring me that everything was going to work out.

I’d miss that relationship, but that part of the relationship had been gone for a while and Harry and I had both discovered that we weren’t fixable. We had never spoken the words aloud, but it was true, and I was sure he knew it too.

He finally cleared his throat, “Do you, um, do you want to go out to dinner or somethin’?”

I bit the inside of my cheek, “I don’t think you want to drag this out anymore than I do.” I said softly.

He stared at me for a moment, “Right, of course. Go on then.”

I frowned, “What?”

“You’re going to break up with me, yeah? Go ahead then.”

“Well, I…” Suddenly, I wasn’t so sure he wanted this too, “You know this, what we had… You can feel it’s gone too, right?”

He smiled sadly at me, “No, love. What I feel for you is the same as I’ve felt since day one.” He looks away from me, “But I know you don’t feel it anymore and that’s okay. So break up with me.”

I swallowed, “I thought it would be mutual. I’ve had a really good time with you, but… this was never right.”

Pain flashed across his face, but he masked it in an instant and I found that that hurt me more than seeing him in pain. He had never hidden his emotions from me before, never been one to close up around me. Around everyone else? Sure. But never me. “Of course.” He said, “You’re right, always are.”

I sighed at the sarcasm, “This is what I mean, Harry, we can’t fix this. We’re always fighting—“

“M’not fightin’ with you, love. But you can’t just sit there and invalidate our whole relationship and expect me to take it. Fuckin’ talkin’ like “you had a really good time” like we were only together for a few months, like it was nothing to you–“

“I didn’t say that!”

“You might as well have!”

“Fuck, Harry.” I put my head in my hands, “I don’t know what you want from me. It wasn’t like… I mean… the only good times we had were during the honeymoon phase–”

“Christ, the honeymoon phase?! Fuckin’ rip my heart out, why don’t you.” He threw a hand up in frustration before walking away from me. “We had a two year honeymoon phase, is that it? You want to chalk up everything we had into a goddamn cliché, was it ever real for you then? Did you ever look at me and feel like the entire universe was trying to burst out your chest?” He choked a bit on the words, “Because that’s what it was like for me, every time you walked into the room.”

I couldn’t meet his eyes, “I don’t know.” I whispered.

“Were you even in love with me?”

“I thought I was.”

He scoffed at me, a hand on the back of his neck, “I thought I was going to marry you.” My head jerked up to look at him. “Even before today, knowing what you were coming here for, I told myself once I got back from tour I’d win you back somehow.” I didn’t know what to say so I sat there quietly. “S'really over then, innit?”

I swallowed past the lump in my throat, “Yeah.”

Tears coated his cheeks as he walked over to where I sat on the bed and he bent over, tilting my chin up with his finger until our mouths met. His lips tasted salty from the tears and the way he was kissing me somehow conveyed just how devastated he was. It brought me to tears as well. We worked slowly, knowing that once one of us pulled away, that was it.

Surprisingly, Harry was the first one to pull away. He sniffed as he used his thumbs to wipe away my tears and then wiped at his own eyes with the heel of his palm. “Had to stop.” He said, “Knew if I didn’t stop I’d never let you leave this hotel room.”

I didn’t think this would be so hard. “Harry–”

“You should go now then.” He wasn’t looking at me anymore.

I nodded, “Right.” I got up and then stopped at the door, hand on the doorknob. “I did love you. But when we started fighting I repressed it, made myself forget so that this would be easier. Thank you for helping me remember.” He was still facing away from me, silent. “Goodbye, Harry.” And when I closed the hotel door behind me, I felt the tears finally release and once I got to the car I completely broke down, remembering how the boy with the dimples made me feel, how the moonlight hit his green eyes just right, how I’d never hold him again.

And I let myself do what I had pushed away for months on end.

I grieved.


anonymous asked:

Stydia / 14 ( for the send me a ship and number thing ) thank uu

things you said after you kissed me

Well now they’ve kissed twice and are officially together this was nice to write. I also want to dedicate the fluff to @slowburnotptrash since she seemed sad yesterday and i love her and all her stydia support <3 

“you’re back” Lydia sighed pulling back from their hug and running her hands over his shoulders as though she was checking that he was really there. 

Stiles gripped her waist in response with a whispered yeah the lump in his throat stopping him from saying much more. Lydia leaned forward and rested her head against his head taking in the moment. Stiles brought his hands up to her face and ran his thumbs across her cheeks, swallowing before speaking. 

“you brought me back” he breathed “you remembered me”

Lydia leaned back and met his eye her, his hands stayed on her face stroking gently. 

“I did” the red head smiled gentle “i remembered what it was like to have you here, what you mean to me” she paused and took a breath her smile growing wider. 

“i remembered you love me.” 

Stiles nodded and accepted her words. It has always been true. He loved her for as long as her could remember. Now more then ever. He loved Lydia Martin. He’d loved her more now he knew her, knew her faults and downfalls, knew her loyalty and kindness. He’d grown to see what the real Lydia Martin was like and even though he’d accepted long ago that she never would love him back but he loved her anyway. 

But here she was. Kissing him. Holding him like she never wanted to let go and the hopefully part of Stiles that he’d buried for the last few years came flooding forward. 

“I just…i had to say it before..” he trailed off his explanation as he noticed Lydia’s hands moving to her own. He looked at her confused. 

“It’s okay Stiles. I know. It’s okay” She leaned forward kissing him gently this time hands still clutching his own. They leant into each other and Stiles let out a shaky breath when they separated again. Lydia squeezed his hand and met his eyes softening her face.

“I love you too” Lydia whispered. Stiles sucked in a breath, his lungs contracting. The hope he’d hidden for so many years surfaced and smiled bright laughing gently. Lydia smiled at him before he wrapped his arms around her pulling her in for another kiss.  

superhappybubbleslove  asked:

Modern AU: Obi calls back home for the first time in years.

The first nice day in April finds Obi out on the fire escape, elbows braced against his knees to keep his hands from shaking.

His phone has one contact pulled up, his thumb hovering over the call button. He’s paralyzed; every time his gaze catches on the name, it’s like being punched in the gut. Not like when he was in the ring, prepped and tense, but like when he was just some undersized foster kid, someone who would be leaving soon, someone no one would remember if you stuffed them in a locker or shoved them head-first into a toilet. Something he can never be prepared for, no matter how many times it happens.

Home, it reads.

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W*O*L*D (Pt. 2) (Daveed x Reader)

Summary: Pete makes things difficult

TW: Swearing, cheating/divorce, poorly edited bc I’m lazy


Part 1 Part 3

You wait at the airport for him, bouncing your almost year old son on your hip. Pete barely knows anything about his youngest son, you tried to tell him, but he was always too busy to listen to you, so you stop trying to tell him. You told him the day his son was born, his first words, first steps, and all the other little moments he missed. You hate it. You hate that your husband has never been there for you. You thought he would come back for his kids, but he didn’t. When Bronx was born, he walked into the hospital the after. You told him the due date and that, if nothing else, he should visit for that week, but he didn’t. He came in the next day. Not only did he miss Bronx being born, but he missed Saint. You would have thought that after he missed one son’s birth, he would have come to the second, but no, this radio gig was too important to him.

You finally see him, dragging a large suitcase behind him. Once he gets close enough, he engulfs Bronx in a hug and asks to hold Saint.

“Hey, buddy, you must be my son. You’re so big!” He smiles, but Saint turns away from him.

Pete greets you last. He wraps his free hand around your waist and kisses you. You just scowl. You’re done with this, pretending that it doesn’t bother you. You’re done with him. “Nice to see you again.”

He frowns. “What’s wrong, (Y/N/N)?”

You shake your head and take your son back. “Nothing, just tired.”

He nods.

You lead him out to your car, as Bronx tells him all about school. Pete nods excitedly. It almost makes you feel bad.

Keep reading

a thing based on this ask and this related comic by @infinite-atmosphere because I just had to

2200 words of REALLY HASTILY-WRITTEN FIC ignore any egregious errors

McCree first sees him on the streets of Hanamura, not far outside the guarded Shimada property. McCree sits at the counter at the Rikimaru ramen shop, poking halfheartedly at a bowl of shoyu. A figure steps up to the counter beside him, and though McCree doesn’t look up at first, he can hear the cook greet the newcomer enthusiastically. So he looks up.

The newcomer is, quite possibly, the most handsome man he has ever seen. With long, dark hair tied back in a ribbon, piercing dark eyes, and cheekbones one could cut themselves on, the sight of him very nearly stops McCree’s heart.

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Summary: You’ve been feeling off lately, but can’t quite put your finger on it

Word count: 1479

Warnings: None

A/N: It’s been a long week and today I haven’t really felt like a human (I don’t know how to describe it… kinda like when you need a hard reset?) and towards the end of today I realized that I’m homesick. Obviously, I needed my Winchester boys to help me get through it since my parents are halfway around the world this week ;)

“Hey Y/N. Glad to see you’re still alive.”

“Whatever, Dean,” you muttered and shuffled toward the fridge in search of comfort food. You weren’t sure what was wrong, but you knew that you felt off. Something was going on with you and you couldn’t put your finger on it.

So you did what you always did when you didn’t understand how you were feeling and sequestered yourself away until you got your shit together.

Keep reading

bottled up


WARNINGS: pregnancy, mentions of alcoholism, swearing


Y/N sighed heavily as she walked through the maroon front door, paint chipping at the edges, and brushed her hair out of her face as she closed it behind her.

Draco walked in from a different room, tie loosened around his neck, a grin on his lips. “Hi, love,” he said, softly pressing his lips to hers. “How was your last day?”

She smiled, shrugging her coat off and hanging it on the rack adjacent to the door. “It was fine,” she shrugged, pursing her lips.

Her day at work was worse than fine - it was overwhelming. Full of smothering coworkers and loaded questions. Y/N was relieved to finally be home, back to the comfort of the warm house and Draco’s arms.

“Well,” he said, placing a hand on her swelling stomach. “Now all you have to worry about is our baby.”

She covered his warm hand with her cold one, swallowing the lump in her throat. “Yeah,” she breathed, squeezing his fingers.

Draco still had a week left of work before his paternity leave, so she had the house to all to herself. Days flew by, and Y/N busied herself with readying the nursery and burying herself in pregnancy books. She baked, wrote, and watched the muggle television to preoccupy her mind.

But she had a hard time doing that once the skies faded to black.

One clear Wednesday night, Y/N laid on her back in bed and stared up at the barren ceiling, Draco’s arm strewn lazily over her stomach. She watched his pale hand move up and down with every breath she took. A repetitive pattern compared to the chaos of her thoughts.

She looked over at her husband, and softly grinned at the parting of his lips; the slight stubble on his cheeks. He had peace written all over his face, and Y/N wanted that more than anything right then.

She sucked in a quick breath before gingerly lifting Draco’s arm off of her stomach and climbing out of bed.

With slippers on her cold feet and a blanket draped over her back, Y/N made her way to the kitchen as quietly as she could. She needed to busy herself to cover up the negativity swarming in her brain.

She paced. Opened the refrigerator; closed it. She made peppermint tea, and then poured it down the sink, realizing it would probably not agree with her stomach. 

She ended up sitting at the mahogany kitchen table, her fingers wrapped around a tepid glass of tap water. She licked her chapped lips as she stared at the digital clock over the stove, ticking 2:04, 2:05, 2:06am.

At 2:07, she stood up and walked across the hardwood floors, toward the far corner cabinet. She pried it open, and stared at the tall bottle of firewhiskey sitting on the center shelf. Her eyes tore away after two seconds, her chest filling with regret. The reason she was tearing herself up; the cycle that seemed inevitably endless in her mind.

She sucked in a sharp breath before nearly slamming the cabinet shut and sitting back down at the table. She blinked back tears as her baby bump gently contacted the edge of the table, causing her to place a hand over her stomach, as if she could reach and touch her unborn child.

Draco then shuffled in, blonde hair disheveled, eyes groggy. His dark green, plaid pajama pants hung low on his waist as he sleepily mumbled, “What are you doing, love?”

“Nothing, sorry. I just couldn’t sleep,” she said quietly, as he pulled out the chair and took a seat across from her at the small table.

Draco looked at Y/N, reading her face. He glanced at the untouched glass of water, the dark circles underneath her eyes. He saw right through her; he knew her like the back of his hand.

“What are you worrying about?” he asked, tilting his head and reaching for her hand across the table.

She sighed, grasping Draco’s arm fingers and glancing at his tired, concerned face. “I’m thinking about my mum.”

His lips parted, then he delicately pushed them together. Hesitantly, he asked, “What about her?” 

Y/N looked down, gently closing her eyes. “I’m scared that I’m going to end up just like her as a mother,” she said, her voice slightly wavering. “A good for nothing drunk that couldn’t even take care of me,” she continued, finally opening her tired eyes and looking back at him.

“Y/N,” Draco whispered, his blue eyes pouring into hers. “That’s not going to happen,” he said definitively, gently shaking his head.

“I looked at the firewhiskey,” she murmured, breaking eye contact.

“What?” he asked.

“The bottle of firewhiskey, in the cabinet. I looked at it, Draco!” she yelled, pulling her hand out of his grasp and running it through her bedraggled hair. “And for a split second, I… wanted to take a sip.”

Draco sighed deeply, running his tongue tentatively over his bottom lip. “Y/N…”

She continued, “I haven’t had a sip of alcohol ever since…”

Ever since her mother had waltzed out of her life. Y/N swore to herself that she’d never drink again, because drinking had caused so much destruction in her life. She didn’t want to wreck anyone else’s.

“I know,” Draco said softly. “But you didn’t, and you never would have. That shows right there that you are nothing like your mother.”

She stared at him, before carefully asking, “Haven’t you heard that saying that everyone eventually grows up and turns into copies of their parents?”

Draco ran a hand through his messy blonde locks as he said, “If that were true, I’d be just like my father. Am I?”

Y/N hesitated. “No.”

“Exactly,” he breathed. “My dad is a dick.”

“You’re a little bit of a dick,” she joked, a grin tugging at her lips.

“Who isn’t? That’s beside the point,” Draco replied, causing a small laugh to escape Y/N’s mouth. “If anything,” he continued, taking her hand and threading her fingers through his once more. “Our childhoods were shitty so that we could give our baby the best childhood possible.”

A smile stemmed onto Y/N’s mouth. “What do you mean?” she asked, running her thumb across the back of his hand. 

Draco smiled back, before explaining, “Our parents - your mum, my dad. They showed us exactly who we don’t want to be. Because of them, we are going to be the world’s best parents for our kid. I know it.”

Y/N beamed at him, blinking away the tears that had formed in her eyes, due to the overflow of emotions piled in her chest. “I love you, so much,” she whispered, squeezing his hand. Because that’s what she told him when he said things like that; she had never been great at responses.

“I love you, too,” he replied, pressing his gentle lips to her knuckles. She grinned at the gesture, even after all those years.

“Come on,” Draco said, standing up and grabbing his keys off the granite countertop. “I have an idea.”

“Where are we?” she asked, Draco’s warm coat wrapped around her shoulders, her pajama pants thin against her legs in the chilly December air. The chaotic sounds of a London street sounded in the distance, still unbelievably busy at three in the morning.

“An alley behind the Ministry. No one ever comes back here.” Draco said, looking around at the red bricks that shone in the moonlight. 

Y/N looked at her husband as if he had grown two extra heads. “Okay, but what in Merlin’s beard are we doing here?”

Draco smiled, placing a comforting hand on the small of her back. “You are going to take this bottle of firewhiskey,” he said, revealing it as if out of nowhere and pressing the cold bottle into her hands. “And chuck it against that brick wall.”

“What?” she said, knitting her eyebrows together. “No, that’s not very-”

“Nobody comes back here, Y/N. I promise.” he said, before adding, “And it will make you feel better.”

Her lips parted. “Draco…”

“If it means that much to you, I’ll even come out here on my lunch break tomorrow and clean it all up.” he said, peering into her confused eyes.

“What is the point of this, again?” she asked, shivering from the night air on the back of her neck and the bottle between her fingers.

“I want you to take all those doubts and worries you’ve been bottling up in that beautiful brain of yours, and shatter them into tiny pieces.” Draco said, gesturing to the tall, brick wall.

Y/N couldn’t help but smile, a small chuckle falling off her lips. “Draco, this is-”

“A great idea, I know.” he interrupted, pearl-white smile shining in the darkness.

She opened her mouth to retort him again, but Draco squeezed her shoulder and said, “Trust me.”

She took a breath as he backed away, watching with anticipation. Y/N smiled, gently shaking her head, before throwing the bottle at the wall with all the force she could collect. The glass smashed into the hard bricks, and a shattering sound reverberated through the alleyway, pulsing in their ears.

“Huh,” Y/N breathed, as Draco walked back over toward her. “That did make me feel better.”

“Good,” he replied, a smile plastered on his face. He placed his right hand on her left cheek, tenderly meeting her lips with his, his unkempt blonde locks tickling her forehead. She grinned at Draco’s love for her, the ridiculous ways he could lift her spirits. 

She knew he was going to be a phenomenal father.

After pulling away, Y/N whispered. “Let’s go home now. It’s freezing.”

i hope you enjoyed this!! i’m hoping to get a few fics posted this weekend, before the craziness of finals starts up in the next two weeks. hope you all stay warm & safe!! :)

anonymous asked:

I love how that "nobody's excluding agender people" person proceeds to tell how agender shouldn't be lumped with aromantism and asexuality. I'm agender. I'm aroace. I get hit with the exactly same cisheteronormative bs both for being agender ("you don't have a *different* gender so you aren't trans, you're basically cis") and aroace ("you aren't attracted to *anyone* so you aren't sga, you're basically straight") that defaults me to a cishet using a shared logic. Hence the "lumping".

yeah thats what ive heard before too


Big brother four times over, and this one’s eyes are blue.

“Like yours, Scotty!”

Virgil, full of three year old fascination and a healthy amount of hero worship, flings his arms around Scott’s shoulders while simultaneously draping himself over big brother’s back.

Scott nods, swallowing against the lump in his throat.

“Yeah,” he agrees, voice hoarse. “They’re blue.”

And while Scott’s eyes are a dash of sky blue, baby Alan’s eyes are a pinch more ocean blue. But still, it’s a fair comparison. Virgil fills up Scott’s peripheral, quiet and full of contemplation. Scott steals a glance from the corner of his eye and swallows down a smile at the way Virgil’s big, dark eyes study their newest baby brother.

Virgil reaches out a finger towards Alan, slowly at first, hesitant to touch something so small and fragile. And it’s kind of hilarious to Scott, what with the way Virgil’s tongue sticks out at the corner of his mouth.

Alan, still nearly blind and completely unfocused, rotates his head left to right, following the soft sounds of John and Gordon’s clinking toys off near the edge of the deck. His little fingers grab and pulse at the fringe of the blanket Dad had draped atop of him, but when Scott makes clicking noises above his face, Alan looses interest in the blanket.

“Is is he a alien?”

A tight smile stretches tighter across Scott’s cheeks as Virgil draws a circle above Alan’s forehead, dipping forward over Scott’s left shoulder to get a closer inspection of Tracy Number 5.

“No,” Scott chuckles, nudging Virgil back with his shoulder.

Virgil’s not deterred though, set on examining their brother further.

“Well, he looks like one,” he decides after a moment of contemplation. He nods to himself then, crossing his arms in finality, words slow and confident despite big brother’s assurances of the contrary.

Keep reading

Riley’s Sweet Sixteen

Riley’s sweet sixteen party is the most extravagant thing that Maya has ever seen in the Matthews’ apartment, trumping even the yearly Christmas and New Year’s parties. Streamers, balloons, flowers, and explosions of color are everywhere, the decorations packed so tightly that the living and dining rooms are barely recognizable. So many people from school and possibly even from elsewhere are packed in that Maya doesn’t think she’s ever even seen half of them.

“So, what’s the point of having so many people over?” Maya asks a smiling Riley. “Do you even know all of them?”

“I know of them,” Riley says.

“I don’t understand you at all,” Maya laughs.

“You don’t need to; you just gotta love me!”

“And I do,” Maya says with a half-hearted smile. Maya does love Riley, but perhaps more than the way in which Riley meant. She’s felt this way for over two years, but she knows that Riley has had feelings for Lucas for just as long, and even if she didn’t, Maya wouldn’t be willing to risk her friendship with Riley over something as unimportant as her own feelings. What is important is Riley and her feelings, her happiness.

Speaking of which, her smile seems to have faded in the few moments Maya had been lost in her thoughts.

“Everything alright, Riles?” she asks. “You look a little down.”

Riley shakes her head. “Yeah, I’m fine. Is it time for presents? Let’s open presents!” She dives for the couch and the guests crowd around before Maya has time to question her.

With so many people over, the gifts take nearly half an hour to get through, despite most of them being letters. Riley takes care to open each envelope so that they don’t tear and to read each letter out loud, and she’s just as gentle with the gifts in boxes as well. She’s always been like that even being so excitable; it’s just one of her many quirks that Maya has fallen in love with over the years.

Maya bites her lip when Riley gets to her present. She’d wanted to get Riley a blanket she’d seen at the store, a nice one featuring a pattern of tightly packed cats–some of them purple–but she couldn’t scrape up the money and she hadn’t wanted to bother her mother or Shawn about it. Instead, she’d gone all the way down the sappy, sentimental path and created a scrapbook of their lives together, complete with her own drawings and paintings.

Riley freezes when she pulls the wrapping off and sees the cover, staring at it for a long moment before looking up at Maya with awe. “Maya….”

Maya smiles. “Go ahead, look inside.”

Riley opens the scrapbook to the first page and she breaks into a grin. She flips a few more pages before closing it gently.

“I love it, peaches,” she says. “I’ll look through the whole thing after the party.”

Riley gets through the last few gifts, from her parents and Auggie, before calling cake time. She seems to completely forgotten whatever had been affecting her earlier, and Maya wonders if she’d just imagined it. Besides, Riley would tell her if something was bugging her, wouldn’t she?

She brushes it off and takes a plate of cake before sitting beside Riley, who already has chocolate icing all over her face. “You got a little something…everywhere,” she laughs.

“Well, maybe I want it there!” Riley giggles in mock retaliation.

Maya snorts. “Here.” She grabs a napkin and wipes Riley’s face clean, then pauses. What is she doing? Riley looks uncomfortable too, her eyes downcast, and Maya hastily throws the napkin away before stuffing cake into her mouth to keep herself from saying anything stupid.

“Maya–“ Riley glances around at the other party guests; nobody’s paying attention to them. “Something’s…something’s been bothering me for a while.”

Maya tries to swallow the lump in her throat. “Yeah? What’s wrong?” she asks.

“It’s just…you know how I know all of my parents’ stories?”

Maya furrows her brow. “Yeah, why?”

“My mom’s sweet sixteen was really important to her. She wanted to dance with my dad because her parents danced together at her mom’s sweet sixteen and…well….”

“And you want to dance at yours,” Maya sighs, and Riley nods. “So, uh…what’s the problem? Why don’t you just ask Huckleberry to dance with you?”

Riley shrugs. “I don’t know…it’s a big commitment, Maya. My mom and my grandma…they both married the people they danced with.”

“Yeah, I got that,” Maya murmurs. “Just, um. Just tell me when so I can get out of you and Lucas’ way. I don’t want to mess up your special dance.”

“I want it to be you,” Riley blurts.

Maya blinks. “W-what?”

“I…I want to have my sweet sixteen dance with you.” Riley hesitates before continuing. “I don’t know if I’ll want to marry Lucas. I don’t know if I even love him the way I think I do. What I do know is that I want you to stay in my life forever, and…hey, if a dance means we’ll end up married, I’m okay with that.”

Maya is sure her face is beet-red, she can feel her cheeks burning, and her heart is beating so wildly she’s afraid the front of her shirt is fluttering with it. “A-are you sure?”

“I’ve never been more sure of anything else in my entire life.” Riley pauses, biting her lip as she studies Maya’s face. “Is…is that okay? Because, I mean, if you’re not alright with that we don’t–“

“Riles.” Maya cuts Riley off and takes her hands into her own. “Of course it’s okay. I actually….” She takes a deep breath; if there were ever a time to admit everything to Riley, it was now. “I like you. I’ve liked you for a long time and I know I should have told you sooner but I was afraid that somehow it would mess up our friendship. I just think you should know that before we do this.”

Riley smiles warmly. “Maya, you could never mess up our friendship, and that doesn’t change anything. I still want to dance with you, and maybe we can try more than just a dance later? Like, a date?”


Riley nods and places a soft kiss on Maya’s cheek before pulling back with a grin. “Yeah, peaches.”

The room’s grown quiet, and Maya and Riley look around at the partygoers who had finally noticed the intimacy between the two girls and stopped what they were doing to watch. Everyone stands in silence for several long moments before Zay breaks it.

“Took y’all long enough.”

Both of them are blushing, but they keep their grip on each other’s hands and don’t step away from each other as Zay leads everyone else in a round of applause. They’re both grinning by the time it settles down and the music starts.

“Good timing,” Maya laughs.

“My mom is definitely behind this.”

“I’ll have to thank her later.”

“Just c’mere.”

Riley pulls Maya closer to her and leans her head against Maya’s, and Maya lets her head rest in the crook of Riley’s neck as they begin to sway to the music. It feels completely natural to both of them, and they close their eyes knowing that in that moment, they’re the only two people who exist in the world.

You sleep in Jungkook's bed

It wasn’t unusual for Jungkook to find you asleep in his bed. You’d often come over after work hoping to see him after practice but when that didn’t turn out you just fell asleep in his bed until he got home when he would either wake you and you’d talk and play video games or he would just slide in next to you and sleep like old times. Except he was getting sick of the sleep next to you. He wanted to sleep with you. With you in his arms and on his chest. Being more than best friends who were a lot closer than you two should be.

Jungkook entered the dorm, the other members noisily following him. He looked down at the array of shoes, looking for your pastel pink gazelles and when he saw them neatly tucked under the bench his heart lurched. Throwing a rushed goodnight over his shoulder, he bounded through the dorm knocking a few things over on the way. Once he reached his door he stopped dead. Heart slamming in his chest and blood pounding in his ears, he knew he had to tell you. This was it. He was going to wake you up and tell you straight to his face and pray that you returned the feeling.

Creaking the door open, he saw the light from the tv illuminating the room. You had fallen asleep playing Overwatch. The determination that had been flowing through him two seconds ago disappeared when he saw you curled up in a ball sound asleep. You were just in sweats and his basketball jumper but he had never seen anyone look so beautiful. Maybe it was the way your hair was splayed over his pillow or your lips slightly parted or how you looked so at peace. You looked like you belonged in his bed. Like that was where you were meant to sleep from now on.

Jungkook closed the door softly behind him and walked towards you. He made sure to keep his footsteps light to avoid waking you. Crouching down in front of you, he just stared. He knew how you looked while sleeping, every time you stayed over he watched you for a while before exhaustion finally took over and he feel asleep with his hand somehow touching you. His fingers twitching now with how much he wanted to cup your cheek.

Jungkook took a deep breath in and lifted his hand to your cheek, brushing your hair back. Your skin was so warn and smooth. He moved his hand into your hair and down onto your neck, keep it there for the time being. You stirred, startling Jungkook that he almost pulled away but when you didn’t open your eyes, he decided it was okay.

“Mmhmm, what time is it?” You voice thick with sleep.

“Just past 9”

You took a deep breathe through your nose, angry at yourself for falling asleep so early. You rolled your head to the side, eyes still closed but you were waking up. Jungkook moved his hand away, dropping it to the mattress.

“I’m sorry Kook, I tried to stay awake”

Jungkook shook his head, even though you couldn’t see him. “It’s okay. You had work. Thank you for coming, you didnt have to”

A lazy smile broke across your face. “And miss smashing you at Overwatch. No way”

He wanted you to open your eyes so he could look into them and determine wether or not he should continue his plan. Jungkook reached out, cupping your cheek in his hand. You made a noise and reached your own hand up to grab his, holding it there.

“You okay Kook?”

Jungkook swallowed the lump in his throat. “Yeah, i’m good”

You finally opened your eyes and found him staring at you. A lazy smile across his face.

That was it. Jungkook knew then he was sick of waiting. He wanted to tell you, out loud and real. He didn’t want it happening in his head anymore.

“Do I have something on my face?” You asked, wiping at your nose with the back of your hand.

Jungkook laughed quietly and shook his head, looking down for a quick second. When he looked back up, you were inches from his face and then pushing your lips against his.

Jungkook froze for a second. Unable to process what was happening.

You were kissing him. In real life. Not in his head anymore. This was happening.

You uttered a small please against his lips which snapped him back into reality.

He kissed you back, pushing his face back against yours, sighing as his lips parted. Yours were so soft against his and tasted like the peach lip gloss you always use. Jungkook always wanted to know how it would taste on your mouth. The hand on your cheek slid onto the side of you neck as he tilted his head to deepen the kiss, mouths opening wider against each other. You let out a soft moan as his tongue swiped against your bottom lip. The kiss was innocent. Nothing too heated or lust driven. Just a tender first kiss. To share with your best friend. Jungkook pulled away first, your lips following his.

Resting his forehead against the mattress, his confession muffled.


He lifted his head, cheeks slightly pink with a blush.

“I have wanted to do that for ever”

You face heated up and your stomach started flipping. You pursed your lips, looking directly at him.

Just kiss me forever please. Until I pass out. Just please.

“Can we do it again?”