my so called angst

8

…I wonder if that was actually a good decision to make there, Kuroo

First | Prev | Next

Ever Since New York

A/N: Here’s an angsty drabble that I wrote at 2 in the morning after working an entire day and just pretty much being pissed off (because customers suck… and managers)

Warnings: swearing, angst, alcohol. nothing too bad.

Originally posted by coporolight

You scrolled through your phone, staring at the various pictures that you had of you and Bucky. 

After you two had broken up, you couldn’t bring yourself to delete the many pictures you two took. Most of them ended with Bucky covering the camera and getting a blurry view of his grin but you still smiled nonetheless, being able to remember that exact moment in time, feeling as free as you did. 

Your room was dark, and you didn’t know what you expected to get from staring at these pictures again. 

A random picture appeared, the two of you locking lips softly as the rays of the setting sun shined precisely behind your faces. Bucky’s lips were turned upward into a small smile, while your nose scrunched and you struggled to snap the picture with your eyes closed. 

Better times were behind you. 

You stood from your bed, walking to the kitchen in your rented apartment and heating up some water for tea. 

You wiped away the tiredness from your eyes, sighing as you gripped your phone tightly in your hands, afraid that if you let it go then the pictures would somehow be erased. Along with all those happy memories. 

The rain pounded against the window as your curled up on the chair in your dining room, waiting patiently for the water to boil. 

As you watched the water drip outside, you couldn’t help but remember the time the two of you danced in the rain. A celebration in a sense, you had just finished university and was still in your cap and gown. He spun you around, the two of you singing songs and screaming happily in the rain.

It was the first time he told you he loved you. 

“Jesus Christ, (Y/N), get it together.” You said to yourself, slapping your cheeks to wake yourself up and quit thinking about him. 

The tea kettle began to yell, causing you to hop from your spot and grab a mug. You glanced at the clock, “Fucking hell. Of course it’s 3 a.m.” 

Your feet carried you to the living room, dipping the tea bag in the water while you sat on your couch. The only light that came in was the ones that shined through the windows. 

Though you didn’t want to, you couldn’t help but continue thinking about the glory days that you shared with him. 

A loud knock sounded through out your entire apartment. You jumped in your seat, immediately reaching for your bat that sat in the shoe closet beside the door. 

Your eye looked through the peephole, your jaw falling agape as you saw who was on the other side. 

The door opened slowly, your head peaking around to see Bucky standing there, water dripping from his hair and his shoes squeaking with every movement. 

“What are you doing here?” You didn’t know what else to say, your mouth had gone dry despite having just drank tea, and your tongue didn’t want to move in the ways you wanted it to. 

Bucky sighed softly, his eyes squinting as he struggled to see your silhouette in the darkness of your apartment. 

“It’s been 3 months, Buck…” You trailed off after a moment of him not saying anything. 

“Look- can I just come in? Please?” He said, his voice quiet compared to the rain. 

You contemplated in your head for a moment before opening the door all the way so that he could slip in. 

He shook his head, flinging water in all directions while you stood idly back, waiting to figure out why he had shown up here so suddenly. 

Now that you were in better light, he studied your face slightly. He bit his lip, shaking slightly. Bucky’s body dropped to the floor, his head falling into his hands as he sobbed softly. 

You heart dropped, immediately feeling all the love for him rush outward in his painful cries. “Bucky, oh my god… What’s wrong?!” 

Your hand hesitantly resting on his shoulder, feeling his shakes rack throughout his body. 

“Bucky!” You tried again, shaking his body and grabbing his face to get him to look at you. 

His eyes were bloodshot, and it was then that you smelled the scotch radiating off of his body. You scrunched your nose, backing away, “You’re drunk.” 

“No I’m not,” he whispered, wiping a tear from his cheek, “okay maybe I am but that’s not the point.” 

“Well I sure as hell don’t know the fucking point. Why the hell are you here?” You said, suddenly angry with his unannounced appearance at your door step. 

Bucky was an emotional wreck, he sniffled constantly and couldn’t say a word without slurring. “I’m still in love with you.” 

“You broke up with me!” You yelled, standing up and towering over him. 

“I was protecting you!” He spat, struggling to stand up straight. 

“From what?” You muttered, crossing your arms over your chest and not being able to believe that you were arguing with your intoxicated ex boyfriend. 

He walked slowly towards you, getting close but not touching you in any way, “Myself.” 

You swallowed, feeling bile rise up in your throat as you felt stupid for not being able to put two and two together. He spoke a lot about being afraid of reverting back to what he was before. Not having a clue who he was, or who you were. 

He didn’t want to hurt you. 

“Bucky, you would never hurt me.” 

“I could feel it, in my brain…” he pointed dramatically to his head, “I was going back to a dark place, babygirl. I didn’t want you hurt.” 

You hit Bucky’s chest with both your fists, banging harshly and backing him up into the wall as you felt tears stream down your face. “Fuck you, Bucky. Fuck you!” 

“Ow, ow!” Bucky grabbed your wrists, stopping you from hitting him. “What is going on with you?!” 

“I’m a strong girl, Buck. Not some fragile piece of glass that you can’t touch! I want you to love me, and to be with me.” You sobbed, your head falling onto his chest. 

Bucky slowly slipped his hands around your body, holding you close, “I’m better. I know you’re strong, and we can be together. I want you back, darlin’. I miss you so much.” 

“You drive me insane.” You muttered, staring up at him once you had calmed down. 

Bucky smiled sadly, “Are you insane enough to be with me again?” 

You grinned through your tears, pulling him by his neck down to your level and smashing your lips on top of his. This was something that you’ve missed for months, and you couldn’t help but try and stay in this moment forever. 

He tapped your thighs, signalling for you to jump around his waist and allowing your bodies to match like puzzle pieces. His lips turned up into a smile, his legs carrying you back to your bedroom. 

The kiss was feverish and needy, the two of you tasting each other and craving it more and more. 

Bucky pulled away for a moment, “So, I’ll take that as a yes?” 

Your chest heaved as you struggled to get words out, only nodding and pulling him back down towards you. 

5

DON’T LOOK AT ME PLS OMG
it gets a bit confusing to me coz i have a male oc that looks like how i draw zarya orz I FORGOT ZARYA’S TATTOOS IM SORRY

@kpopfanfictrash, @the-porcelain-doll-xo, anyone else who’s into BTS…. pls….I need fic recs… especially for the Softest bun Taehyung ;~; but all of them rlly

When Anders begins to hear the Calling, he’s not quite sure that’s actually what it is. He’s experienced something like it twice: when he accompanied Hawke to the Warden prison and when Corypheus came back to Thedas and tried to control the Grey Wardens, but this is…not the same. It’s so soft at first that he almost believes it’s Justice stirring, or a demon that wormed its way through the Fade and to his consciousness. After all, it’s been so long–Anders is nearly an old man now!–he began to assume he would never hear the Calling…

But then the nightmares return worse than ever before; dreams of Archdemons and Darkspawn and Blight that spreads over the earth, festering like a wound. Anders wakes from his slumber every night with violent shakes and cold sweats. And then the first bruise-like spread of corruption appears on his skin.

This is it, he thinks. He is done running once and for all. Even the Calling has come to collect him.

A romanced Hawke that survived the Fade will plead with Anders. They want to fight like they always have, as if the Calling is a foe that can be felled like the Arishok and this makes Anders smile sadly. They beg for more time and as soon as they can, Hawke sends letters to all their contacts they made during Inquisition time. All return with nothing.

It’s bittersweet, but they know what has to be done.

He has time for long goodbyes with the friends that stayed, one last note in his manifesto, a last cuddle with his cat, one last night with his love. Anders’ life was longer than he would have hoped, freer than he could have imagined, and he reflects on the new world order that he personally set into motion as he makes his way to the Deep Roads. Some of it was good, perhaps most of it was bad, but Anders has hope for the future.

Justice consoles him on his march to death. He promises him power to take out as many Darkspawn as they can.

“When I die, what will happen to you, Justice?”

Silence, then: I am not certain.

Romanced Hawke accompanies him the whole way. Blue will ignore the reality, purple will make endless jokes, red will swear they will go down with him, all Hawkes make sure Anders knows he is loved.

When they get to Orzammar, it feels real. Anders is all at once terrified and relieved. All his running had caught up with him, but never in the ways he would have thought. To think that he only became a Grey Warden to avoid the Templars and the Circle, and now…now there was nothing but darkness and death before him, and he had nowhere left to run. No one would take a man with the Calling.

Hawke cries. He cries. Anders almost is selfish enough to ask them to come with him, just so he didn’t have to be alone, but he knows better. He prays for Hawke to live out the rest of their lives well, he truly hopes they do. He puts on a brave face. He squares his shoulders.

And then he accepts his Calling.

3

Because I thought this would be a great way to show off your demon fusion

Bonus: 

design based off of this amazing artist

2

Keeping a calm face and staying strong

The only one I don’t need to fool is myself 

Kaito needs a cathartic cry too

anonymous asked:

wait so will there be angst in the biker au? I read the tags and I know it only says fluff but just curious

Did I not tag any angst? *sweats nervously*

Hahaha there will be some angst. Nothing extremely heavy, but there will be some angst the boys deal with in regards to what happened in their past and moving forward for their future… I don’t want to get into spoilers, but if you want more details, send me a message! <3

As long as you’re with me, you’ll be fine

No Place Like Home

The future is a different country. Sometimes it’s hard to find home. 

A What If Peggy (with the Serum) was in the ice with Steve AU (Steggy Secret Santa gift for @bisexualhayesmorrisons)

Note: This is… slightly more melancholy in tone than I’d really intended, especially at the beginning, but I hope you enjoy it regardless. Also, this is not compliant with Peggy’s backstory in S2.



“I’ve gotta put her in the water,” Steve said, looking at her as she fiddled with the radio, trying to get someone on the line.

She didn’t acknowledge the words. She focused on the panel in front of her, but her shoulders were tense and the red nails of her empty hand bit into her palm. They had both looked at the instruments panel. It didn’t take fluency to know that whatever Schmidt had pressed earlier had locked them on course to New York. There wasn’t any choice, and they both knew it. The plane had to go down, and the only way to accomplish that now was to do it manually.

“Peggy?”

She looked over at him, her hair mussed and falling in her eyes after the fighting with Schmidt. She watched him with resignation for a moment. She’d always known there was the possibility that they might not live to see the end of the war, but right now it was overwhelming. She sighed and went still, when Steve reached out to take her hand, gently pressing his gloved fingers against her clenched ones, prompting her fingers uncurling to wrap tightly around his. Some of the tension ebbed away from her frame, but there was a fear there that wouldn’t be assuaged with a mere touch.

“If I could just find the bloody frequency-” Peggy grumbled, adjusting the radio panel with her free hand. There was a pop and crackle before static.

“I’m sorry, Peggy.”

She sighed. “I know.”

Ice stretched across the horizon, a white blanket. There was a moment of regret and pain for all the things neither of them would get to see now. All those plans and promises they’d both acknowledged but never quite made were going to end here in the cold. When Steve let go of her hand to take hold of the stick, Peggy laid her hand on top of his and nodded.

Together, they pushed, sending the plane careening down toward the ice below.

“I guess we won’t make that dance after all,” Steve said, looking at her. He laughed, a sad chuckle that sent a lance through her heart. “Probably for the best, I would have hated to step on your toes.”

Peggy was tempted to laugh. Of all the things for him to worry about- even if it was for nothing. “Far worse things have happened to me than you stepping on my toes, Steve.”

He smiled sadly. “We could have had the band play something slow.”

Peggy woke gasping, a sharp prickle running across her skin like needles. It was a feeling of ice in her veins. She had dreamed of the crash before, the feeling of the wind and the cold and the searing pain that followed. It was never the same twice, sometimes she dreamed of other horrors: of the Schmidt’s red skull laughing as the plane went down in flames and the feel of blood pooling at her feet and covering her hands.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

I feel like Judas by FOZZY is perfect for fushimi and how he veiws himself

Very depressing and self-loathing, definitely a Fushimi song ;^;

Confession - Part 1

Chanyeol angsty scenario where you’re his best friend and you’re dating Suho (who happens to be his friend so ofc why not) and he confesses his love for you when Suho is out of the country filming.

I love these kinds of scenarios >:)

This is my first ever written scenario so sorry if it’s a little long and mushy gushy *cringe* (bc honestly I love these types of scenarios)!

I couldn’t have done it without some great friends of mine (you know who you guys are <3)

Also, please let me know how you guys feel about it! I would love to hear your opinions on it! <3

Originally posted by bikons

Keep reading

The Long and Short, Short of It

Description: Eren tries to bake cookies for his Valentine. It’s a disaster. 

Dumb fluff fic. ~2800 words

Ao3 Link


“What are we doing exactly?” Armin asked, eyeing the mess piling up on the counters.

By “we” he meant the royal “we,” not “we” as in “he and Eren” because he definitely wanted no part of whatever was about to take place. However, concern for his best friend meant that he couldn’t simply ignore the ominous sound of a brand new cookie sheet being slapped on the counter. So the “we” was more of a suggested “we.” A wee “we,” if you will. The kind of “we” that involves Armin taking Eren to the hospital for burns and being berated by Mikasa, because this is where this endeavor was heading.

“I was thinking how everyone gives chocolate or roses for Valentine’s Day,” Eren said, pulling out a large bag of flour.

“Right,” Armin nodded, following so far.

“And it is so trite, you know? Just more of the consumptive capitalist Hallmark culture that is poisoning our society.”

“Mhm,” Armin nodded, still focusing on the word “consumptive” and wondering if Eren meant that capitalism was like a disease or if he meant “consumer culture.” There was a lot of work to being Eren’s best friend. A great portion of it was saying as little as possible.

“And I got to thinking, instead of being just another cog in the machine, another screw in the wheel, why not instead make something?”

Armin was stuck on “screw in the wheel.”

“I called up Sasha and asked her for her favorite cookie recipe and I’m going to do it. I’m going to make cookies so delicious and so beautiful everyone on Pinterest will be all ‘Wow, those look amazing can I have the recipe?’ and I’ll be all ‘SIKE! The secret ingredient is my baller cooking skills!’”

Keep reading

I’M KINDA NERVOUS ABOUT POSTING THIS, BUT THIS IS FOR YOU @amalasdraws

Seriously go check out her Hip Hop AU - her art in general or actually just go check out her blog on its own!!!

Rapper!Iwa didn’t leave my mind for days and I’m just.. just so happy I stumbled upon your blog.

You’re such a sweet person and I love your drawings? And your Hip Hop AU is gold. I’M SORRY THAT I’M DRAWING YOU ANGSTY STUFF TO SHOW YOU HOW MUCH I LOVE YOU? (what is even wrong with me)

I really enjoy your AU and all the work you put in it. I’m soo looking forward to future updates and where this will be going. I think it’s really impressive how you convey emotions and moods ;A; I’m jelly!!


The song that this is inspired by is Blackbear - idfc

I think it can be applied to angsty, (mutual) pining iwaoi pretty well and it breaks my heart everytime I hear it. Doesn’t stop me from putting it in my personal iwaoi-playlist that I listen to kinda everyday hah. orz

Adding to all of that I was pretty emotional last night and drew this at 2 am. Yeah.

I hope you “enjoy” it ahahahha (๑•́ω•̀๑)


inktober #19

-V; The Survivor Starter Call-

     So! Just to throw this out there, here we go! Like this post or reply with a sideblog/muse name and I’ll send a starter from Denny’s post-apocalyptic AU verse, The Survivor.

Custom Bio: Section IV

IV. Where the Timelines Split

    Only so many successful defenses could protect her wards before word spread among thieves. No matter how she might have prepared when things around the her little corner stayed too quiet for too long, a large enough and coordinated enough group could just not be stopped by one person and a few booby traps. The oncoming attack would become a fixed point in fate, leaving a young woman lying unconscious in the very grasses she’d tried to save, and about to awaken to a whole new life.

    What life… varied.

1. Grima
[Original timeline]

     A vicious, valiant effort to fight off far too numerous bandits left her wounded, surrounded, disarmed, and disgraced. They were interested in loot, not lives, and were quite happy to leave her breathing to goad and watch her wallow in her own pitiful, defeated state. Bound in ropes and broken down, one last blow from the hilt of an axe to her already dizzy head knocked the last remnants of awareness from her brain. They ransacked while she lay senseless, chased the couple from their own house, plundered the place, and then burnt it down for sport. So too, did they steal away her home, her last hopes, any pride to even try and seek out another provider, and any heart she might have had left.

     She’d learned the extension of her original Grimleal lessons that day, she decided: Life is cruel, and no one can really make it better for very long. Everything is doomed to collapse in one way or another, sooner or later. All that mattered in the meantime was power. Enough power to destroy anyone and anything before it destroys you.

     She heard voices nearby, shouting at each other, shouting names. Chrom. Lissa. The royal siblings. The prince who’d failed a member of his kingdom for so long, who’d let her scrounge around and suffer the treatment of his supposed nobles and dignified countrymen. A convenient and perfect person to rid herself of and start taking better control of her life and this land. Still beaten and shaking from the attack several hours ago, the group ate her sob story right up. Offered her safe passage to the next town - the next town, which those bandits had deemed another target. With more bodies and weapons like pawns at her back, she’d take them down. How perfect that vengeance could buy her way into the prince’s favor and earn her a place in his Shepherds.

     Soon enough, those scouting out for an assassination attack would take home word of a strange Plegian girl fighting with an extension of Ylisse’s army, and Validar would contact his lost daughter with promises that she was far more amenable to (now so distanced from her late mother and disillusioned with half of her teachings). She would act as double agent, further earning the trust of the exalts, all the while sneaking people into Ylisstol and reconnaissance back to Plegia, working alongside her father’s instructions to ensure the great Grima’s plan could unfold, and biding her excitement until the day she could burn the heart of Naga’s chosen one and ascend to her rightful throne of godhood.

     She made no ties with the lessers who surrounded her; never loved and never married. While child minions sounded quite useful, she didn’t risk worthy blood being passed on; didn’t risk a successor who might steal Grima’s favor from her.

     (Plucking possible children from alternate timelines once Grima had already taken over, however… remained an option.)

     Grima the Fell Dragon brought about the apocalypse this world deserved.


2. Robin
[Game timeline - Neutral End (?) - Morgan’s timeline]

     Grima remembered the moment there was a change of heart which made it more powerful. In chasing Lucina into the past, he decided to meet his vessel there to merge. It didn’t go as planned.

     The hired sword and the bandits still rushed forward to meet in the farmer’s field, but as initial taunts were being tossed… the young woman passed out. With a few kicks and a hearty laugh at how much better they must be than the fools who’d called her a challenge, they passed right on. They ravaged the homestead just the same, but now… she never even found out. Never hurt or regretted, for it meant nothing to her.

     A man found her in the field, he matched the face of the vision he had woken her from. She remembered his name… and that is all.

     Someone asks for hers, and the only clouded image which came to mind

was the yellow-beaked dawn of a new day
and the warm array like a sunrise on the breast of a horizon
all shining bright to break through dreary browns and grays of fate that surround it
to mark the coming of spring after a cold, harsh winter

The answer that perched on the branch of her tongue
that stirred her soul as something appropriate
that formed more familiar from her lips
was not the forgotten name of a destined daughter

but a chosen identity:
Robin.

     Robin became a loyal Shepherd. Learned what it meant to support, to love, to better one’s self… to look up to someone and earn their trust in return. Befriended her prince and his people, honestly and truly. Thwarted cultists and warlords as they rose. Fought for good and to change fate, and fought for her friends to help their dreams come true.

     Struggles and personal ties and further studies and long conversations taught her to open her heart to introspection. To emotion and intimacy.

     She even became a wife.

     When the final battle against her former self and the choice to bring Grima’s terror to a temporary halt or to total destruction was placed before her, everyone told her not to take the final blow. Told her that she was still needed and it would be best to take care of herself, and a different future could be safeguarded by a different group who would certainly also be successful. She wanted to be part of a future; she didn’t want to leave anyone behind or be the cause of their pain. So many voices made her promise not to leave, said that to keep her around was worth it.

     She loved them. So she listened to them. She let Chrom lay the fell dragon down to an indefinite sleep, and she went on living her life.

     A decision which would slowly eat away at every bit of her sanity from that day forward.

     Along the way, she became a mother, too.

     She thought she would be happy. With all the terrible calls and cruel decisions and juggling of people’s lives, she thought she could live with letting herself thrive for once. No. She felt nothing but guilt. She looked around and saw nothing but regret. Each day felt like one she’d stolen from someone else. Each word that came from another felt like more reassuring lies.  

     She started resenting those around her. Finally researched more of the religion she’d apparently been raised with, …and found it making far more sense than she’d ever thought. The solace of the damned. It wasn’t okay. It had never been okay. She shouldn’t have listened, she shouldn’t have opened herself. She believed so strongly in the invisible ties between people, but it had brought her nothing but misery in the end, anyway. It had changed nothing about future or fate. One day Grima would come again. It was inevitable. It would always be inevitable.

     And it would happen sooner than the several lifetimes everyone else thought they’d won.

     In her madness, Robin would begin the sacrifice - as always - with her own family. But in a brief moment of lucidity (the eyes of Morgan, the terrified, innocent eyes of her child), she would beg Naga for a second chance. One more chance to change fate. The other children were blessed with one, why not her own! Open the past again! Let her heart learn one more thing!

     It was granted, and by Naga’s power, once her son passed through the gate - all memories besides the mission given by a mother, all memories of terrible atrocities, would be erased, in the hopes that they could finally be undone.


3. Morgan
[Game timeline - Good End]

     One more traveler enters the past through a portal to the Ruins of Time. With Lucina. With Grima. To find a Robin who’d recently claimed her own identity.

     And he would help her envision what having a future really meant. Help her understand what it meant to love a child, and how to make and forgive even harder choices (which yet only really ever had one answer) which came with that responsibility. He would show her that in giving the love of a mother, there is nothing she would not or could not do to ensure that her life would be used to leave a better world for him and any other children.

     Even if the cost was death itself.

anonymous asked:

I will match your Ryan calling Gav darling or dear or my love with Gav calling Ryan love, lovely or sweetheart

oh of course!!! I have gav calling Ryan lovely every chance I get, it warms my cold angst heart so much. Gavin calls him love often and even dear a few times, mostly a habit he’s picked up from Ryan, though doesn’t do it far as often. But yes, all the mushy pet names i love them all

soloontherocks-moving-refollow  asked:

things I now think about too much: what happened during Anders' harrowing. How did he deal with it. What demons did he face. These are the questions that keep me up at night.

(Whoops, my fingers slipped. This is based on the headcanon that this codex entry from DA:I pertains to Anders’ Harrowing. Tbh I’ve never actually seen a fic detailing his Harrowing, so now there is one. Dialogue is also borrowed heavily from the magi origin because most of it is probably the same, given how the Chantry likes their speeches and rituals and rites and whatnot)

[Also on AO3]

It was the middle of the night when Anders was harshly woken and all but dragged from his bed. Even in his half-asleep stupor, he knew what was coming. He was of age, and he’d known it would come eventually. The Harrowing. As much as he feared it, the fact that they were taking him meant that, despite all his trouble making, at least he wouldn’t be made Tranquil. Whatever this ritual entailed, even if it meant his death, it must have been preferable than being made a soulless husk. The blonde held on to that thought as the Templars kept him moving, trying to ignore his heart threatening to burst through his ribcage.

Keep reading

Don’t Leave Me

“Dean, I told you. I’m fine.“

“I don’t care! That shifter got you pretty good. You’re not as angelic as you once were.“

“And you’re not as young and fit as you once were, yet you did well.”

“That’s because I’ve been doing this all my life, Cas!”

While he did have a point, that didn’t mean it disregarded all of Cas’ training as an angel. He was a soldier, he knew how things went. Moving from the library, Cas heads towards the kitchen. He needs some ice on his shoulder. A shoulder that may or may not have been injured by the shifter… Alright so Cas wasn’t completely fine! But Dean didn’t have to worry. He has been injured before, he can handle it, he knows his limits, yet Dean chooses to either not understand or dismiss that little piece of information entirely.

“Castiel!”

Rolling his eyes, Cas reaches for the freezer, making sure to use his uninjured arm. Great job, Dean. Use my full name. Make me feel like a petulant child.

“Cas, this conversation is not over.”

“I didn’t say it was.” Cas sighs, finding no ice and reaches for a bag of peas instead.

Reaching the freezer door, Dean slams it shut, rattling the whole fridge while doing so. “I don’t understand why you would put yourself in danger.”

Well its not like it was on purpose. Cas had been a little distracted by what to say to Dean, though. He knew what he wanted to say but didn’t know how to say it. That was the problem.

Not bothering to answer, Cas stalks around the other side of the kitchen island, aiming for the door. He was done. If Dean was gonna act like this then whats the point in talking to him?

“Damn it, Cas!” A shriek of pain erupts from the smaller man suddenly. Dean realizes his mistake quickly and retracts his hands from Cas’ injured shoulder in shock. “Oh fuck I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to, baby. Cas-”

“DEAN STOP!”

Dean falls silent at the outbreak. As does Cas. Moving back a few steps, Cas rolls his shoulder hoping to relieve some of the pain. The only thing it does however is make Dean even more aware of every cringe from Cas. Dean just wants to redo this whole day - hell, even the whole weekend. It was bound to turn to shit with Dean and Cas arguing most of the time, over the littlest things. It had gotten that bad that Sam had actually taken off during the hunt, refusing to come back unless they work out their shit.

It hasn’t gone well.

“Dean, I know you didn’t mean to.” Gently, as to not cause anymore pain, Cas brings the peas up to his shoulder. “You would never hurt me on purpose. I don’t have to be an angel to know that.”

Cas stops, remembering what it was that Cas was trying to tell Dean in the first place when the shifter appeared. Trying to get the right words, Cas shifts on his feet. He knows he’s not always good with conveying his thoughts and emotions. Most of the time he was blunt and rude without meaning to. But over the past year and a half of him being human, Cas had gotten better.

“I uh. Dean, I think we need a break.”

”…What?“ Dean looks at Cas in horror. No no no he can’t do that. Can’t leave!

Cas lowers his head. “I just think, maybe, it would be for the best and-”

“No Cas, please don’t do this.” He’s going to leave me. Dean’s eyes begin to water as his breathing increases. “I know we’re fighting more and more, and fuck me does it hurt when you get so frustrated with me some times, you don’t talk to me for the rest of the night. But what we have, when its good, is fucking amazing. These have been the best years of my life and I don’t want that to end-”

“Dean?”

“Please okay. What do you want me to do? You want me to beg because I will do it.” Falling to his knees, Dean looks up at a stunned Cas with pleading eyes. “Please don’t leave me, Cas. I need you. I- I love you, so much.”

“Whoa, wait. Wait. Leave you? Dean I was talking about a break. Together. From hunting.

Dean squints his eyes in confusion. “Wh-what?”

Slowly lowering to the ground before him, Cas grabs a hold of Dean’s hand and squeezes. “Dean, I just thought that we could go somewhere and relax a bit. Like at a beach? You said before you’ve never been.”

Realization quickly dawned on Dean’s face. “Cas, the word you were looking for is vacation.” Roughly wiping his eyes, Dean looks up at Cas through his eyelashes “Why did you look so upset if that’s what you meant?”

Sighing, Cas leans in and places a small kiss on Dean’s cheek. “Because I know what hunting is like for you. I thought you might say no because of everything going on right now.” Raising his head, Dean looks into Cas’ beautiful blue eyes. “Even if it is for a short while.”

Cas,” Dean leans in and gently wraps his arms around Cas. Careful about his shoulder. “I think its a great idea.”

“Really?”

“Really.” Placing a chaste kiss on Cas lips, Dean tightens his arms around him. “I am sorry about your shoulder.”

“I know. I’m sorry I was acting childish.” Burying his head into Dean’s neck, Cas sighs. “I don’t know why we’re fighting so much.”

“Maybe we do just need a little break and the beach sounds perfect.” Dean moves back slightly to rest his forehead against Cas’.

“Dean, you realize you’ll have to teach me how to swim?”

“I know, and also…” Smoothing his hand down Cas’ back, Dean cups his ass through his jeans and squeezes, making Cas jump slightly. “…maybe we could go skinny dipping.”

“In shallow water.

Huffing out a laugh, Dean leans in to kiss Cas once more. “Yes Cas, in shallow water.”

Sleep

Summary: There are these terrors. And it’s like, it feels like as if somebody was gripping my throat, like last night. They are not like tremors, they’re worse than tremors, there are these terrors. Sometimes there are flames. And sometimes I see people that I love dying, and…” - Sleep, My Chemical Romance

Warnings: Night terrors/nightmares, violence, blood, murder, suicidal thoughts, suicide, major/minor character death, passing mentions of being drunk

A/N: This is my 100th fic and holy shit what the hell. Thank you all for sticking with me for so long ilysm. Special thanks to placentaandllamas for actually inspiring me to write phanfiction in the first place, as I never would have started without her, and also to phanalogue for keeping me writing at times when I wanted to give up (even if she doesn’t know how much she helped me with this). Enjoy the fic!

“They’re terrors. Not nightmares,”

“Tell me what happens in them, Dan,”

“Screaming. That’s mostly… and flames. And the people that I love, dying right in front of me. And then there’s something – somebody – squeezing at my throat, and I look up and it’s…”

“It’s what, Dan? Remember, nothing you say leaves this room,”

“It’s… It’s my boy- my friend. Phil. And then I have a knife and I just-.”

“What do you do?”

“Hurt him. Stab him. Kill him. And then he’s dead in front of me and there’s nothing I can do. I hurt him,”

Keep reading