today is the day when i finally pass out from exhaustion

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Harry Styles: Singer Opens Up About Famous Flings, Honest New LP
One Direction's Harry Styles goes deep on love, family and his heartfelt new solo debut in our revealing feature.

January 2016. There’s a bench at the top of Primrose Hill, in London, that looks out over the skyline of the city. If you’d passed by it one winter night, you might have seen him sitting there. A lanky guy in a wool hat, overcoat and jogging pants, hands thrust deep into his pockets. Harry Styles had a lot on his mind. He had spent five years as the buoyant fan favorite in One Direction; now, an uncertain future stretched out in front of him. The band had announced an indefinite hiatus. The white noise of adulation was gone, replaced by the hushed sound of the city below.

The fame visited upon Harry Styles in his years with One D was a special kind of mania. With a self-effacing smile, a hint of darkness and the hair invariably described as “tousled,” he became a canvas onto which millions of fans pitched their hopes and dreams. Hell, when he pulled over to the side of the 101 freeway in L.A. and discreetly threw up, the spot became a fan shrine. It’s said the puke was even sold on eBay like pieces of the Berlin Wall. Paul McCartney has interviewed him. Then there was the unauthorized fan-fiction series featuring a punky, sexed-up version of “Harry Styles.” A billion readers followed his virtual exploits. (“Didn’t read it,” comments the nonfiction Styles, “but I hope he gets more than me.”)

But at the height of One D–mania, Styles took a step back. For many, 2016 was a year of lost musical heroes and a toxic new world order. For Styles, it was a search for a new identity that began on that bench overlooking London. What would a solo Harry Styles sound like? A plan came into focus. A song cycle about women and relationships. Ten songs. More of a rock sound. A bold single-color cover to match the working title: Pink. (He quotes the Clash’s Paul Simonon: “Pink is the only true rock & roll colour.”) Many of the details would change over the coming year – including the title, which would end up as Harry Styles – but one word stuck in his head.

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The Photograph

Hi babes! This is a fluffy oneshot about Peter having a crush on one of Michelle’s friends at Midtown High. One day, he spots her reading outside and secretly takes a photo of her because he thinks that she looks too perfect to go unseen, and he pins the photo up in the back of his locker. Everything is fine until Flash Thompson gets his hands on Peter’s photo and brings it to her attention. After that, awkward cuteness ensues and I hope that you all like it!

The Photograph

Hot licks of pain seared throughout Peter’s body. His lip was split, there was a purpling bruise on his temple that was accompanied by a headache so powerful that it’s aching refused to be ignored. Even walking from class to class was taking a toll on Peter. He was exhausted and in pain, but Peter remained hellbent on keeping Queens safe, no matter the cost.  

    Peter’s eyes glazed over and his body was ready to shut down. Doing his best to keep himself up on his feet, he focused on the photo that he had tacked up of her in the back of his locker.

    In the photo, the girl was outside, hidden beneath the shade of a rather large tree. She was stretched out on a light pink blanket, a copy of Charles Baudelaire’s, ‘The Flowers of Evil,’ open in front of her. There was a carton of fresh strawberries and a rather oversized iced coffee balanced haphazardly against her backpack on the ground with her, and every so often, Peter recalled how delightedly blissful she looked each time she bit into a ripe berry. The sun’s rays, the soft breeze wandering through the tree’s leaves, and the chatter bumbling down to her from their shared high school didn’t even faze the girl. Her mind remained with the poet’s.

    After a few minutes of watching her, Peter felt soothed. Everything about her made him feel better. He loved the way she licked her lips after she ate, he loved the way that she read her favorite verses aloud, he loved the way that she laughed at herself when she nearly spilled her coffee, and he loved the way that she helped him forget about the constant stress that was now heavily present in his life.

    When Peter finally snapped the photo, she was laying on her side, one hand wound into her silky hair to keep it out of her eyes, and the other hand holding her poetry book open. Her eyes were focused on comprehending the poems on each page, but she wore a soft smile on her lips that made it clear that she wasn’t scrutinizing anything too intensely. The girl was merely enjoying her free period in the sun and Peter longed to do the same.

    Since then, Peter looked for her in almost every hallway, in every classroom window, and everyday at lunch. They’d spoken a handful of times, seeing as they were in the same history class, but other than class discussions, Peter hadn’t mustered up the nerve to say hello outside of an intellectual, in-class debate.

    One day, she was late to history and when she’d walked into the room, she found that her normal seat next to the window had been taken, so she headed towards the first empty desk she saw. Peter, already occupying one of the seats, nearly suffered a heart attack when she placed her binder next to his and offered him a quiet “good morning.”

    It had taken Peter a few seconds to force his brain to form a response to her and then to get his mouth to open and say the words that his brain was attempting to communicate back to her. When he stuttered out, “hey, yeah, good morning,” she didn’t tease him for his weirdness, instead she smiled at him and Peter could’ve melted onto the floor right then and there.

    During that day’s lecture, their teacher was detailing women’s struggles throughout the years to gain the 19th amendment, which won women of all colors, and social standings the right to vote. She scribbled down notes and nodded in agreement with the teacher as she spoke of Ida B. Well’s, Lucy Burns’ and Alice Paul’s courageous actions in the suffrage movement. It was only after Flash Thompson opened his mouth that Peter observed a frown cross over her features.

    “Why didn’t they just keep doing what Florence Kelley advised? If they had followed her directions, they wouldn’t have gotten radical and thrown into prison. Florence Kelley was meeting with President Woodrow Wilson, and he explained to her why he couldn’t grant women suffrage right then, but he said he would going forward. The National Women’s Party didn’t know what they were doing, and furthermore, they set the women’s rights movement back with their crazy antics.” Flash finished, folding his hands behind his head and leaning back in his chair.

    Glancing over at the girl in the chair next to him, Peter knew that not only was Flash painfully incorrect and uneducated, but she was clearly getting ready to put Flash back into his place.

    “Wow, that’s actually so, so, so wrong.” She started, turning slightly in her chair to face Flash, “if Florence Kelley had kept asking President Wilson to recognize women as intelligent, reasonable beings capable of making a decisive decision, it’s unlikely that the 19th amendment would’ve been passed in 1920. The only reason women were granted suffrage is because of The National Woman’s Party. These women marched, were beaten in the streets, picketed in front of the White House, and were thrown into jail for the good of women everywhere. President Wilson only granted women the right to suffrage after women were dying in prison due to the hunger strike Alice Paul began. Not to mention, while these women were imprisoned, they were denied basic human rights and the entire reason they were in locked away in jail was because they were blocking traffic on the sidewalk. It took drastic measures to humanize women in men’s eyes and without the heroic antics of these women, who knows where women would stand today. I mean, a woman’s right to her own body is something that could be taken away at any moment, and women are constantly battling the image that men have imposed upon us. Therefore, your opinion is invalid because you apparently cannot grasp the severity of the situation, past and present.”

    Peter, as well as the rest of the class, was stunned into silence. Normally, she didn’t partake in class discussions because she was shy, but now that she had, everyone in the room was shocked by the intellect that she had just destroyed Flash with. Peter wanted nothing more than to hear her speak all day, and maybe to introduce her to Aunt May.

    Peter could barely focus as Michelle began to back her up. Leaning closer to the wonderfully insightful girl next to him, Peter let her know just how clever he found her. “That was amazing, everything you said was perfect and spot-on. That was the greatest thing that I’ve ever seen and I can’t wait for you do it again.” Peter congratulated the girl.

    “You don’t think it was too much?” She asked worriedly, biting her lip and fiddling with the pencil in her hands.

    Peter shook his head, his eyes wide, “No, no! Absolutely not! You would’ve made Alice Paul very proud.”

    Placing a hand atop of his, she thanked him with a smile. “You’re the best, Peter,” she said before turning her focus back to their teacher.

    After that, she had joined Peter on Flash’s hit-list, so Peter should’ve known better than to try and relax with his locker wide open. Peter was knocked out of his daydream of going home to her and simply curling up around her to sleep by Flash’s grabby hand, first shoving him out of the way, and then stealing his photo of her.

    As Flash rushed down the hall, Peter struggled after him, both boys trying to beat each other to where she stood deep in conversation with Michelle about the numerous male authors whose most famous novels were stolen works from their wives.

    “Flash, don’t” Peter shouted, as he tried to ignore the shooting pain traveling up his body.

    “Too late, Penis Parker,” Flash called as he weaved gracefully inbetween students to get to their target.

    “Oh my gosh,” Michelle muttered, rolling her eyes as she nodded her head towards the two boys heading their way. “Losers.”

    “His lip is bleeding,” She said, concern lacing into her tone. “Do you think he’s okay?”

    “Your boyfriend is fine, probably tripped over a lego or something on his way to the bathroom and banged his head into the wall on his way down.” Michelle tried to reason with her friend. She’d detected that her friend and Peter had the biggest of crushes on one another way before either one of them had, and she had made it her mission to mock them every chance she got.

    Flash was the first to reach the two girls, holding up the photo of her that Peter had taken of her reading outside. “Parker, Penis.” He wheezed, “Penis Parker took this picture of you and had it taped up behind his textbooks in his locker.” Bending over to soothe the splint in his side, Flash handed the photo to the confused girl in front of him.

    As Peter came to a stop in front of her and Michelle, he groaned and threw his hands up into the air, uttering a barely audible, “fuck.”

    When the girls saw Peter up close, they found that Peter was barely recognizable due to all of the bruises masking his pale skin. Quickly handing the photo to Michelle, the girl surged forward, lightly grabbing onto Peter’s sweater to steady him. “Peter, what happened to you? You’re hurt,” she questioned, growing a little more distraught as she studied him face to face.

    “The picture, I’m sorry, I know it’s so creepy. I didn’t mean to be a weirdo and I’m sorry if it made you uncomfortable, I swear that I’m not stalking you.” Peter mumbled, trying unsuccessfully to keep his lip from bleeding.

    “Peter, I don’t care about the photo. What happened to you? Oh no, your lip is bleeding,” She rambled, steering Peter towards the bench nearest to them. “Sit,” she instructed, digging through her backpack for a tissue to dab Peter’s cut with.

    “You’re seriously not going to say anything about the picture he clearly took of you?” Flash whined, refusing to accept defeat.

    Michelle raised her eyebrows, “No, I think it’s disturbing too. You’re not alone in that, Flash.”

    “Do you need ice?” She asked Peter, guiding Peter to look up so she could inspect his face for any further damage. “You need ice, Michelle, could you please go get him ice? Flash, could you please go away?” She asked, looking at the pair over her shoulder.

    Flash was nearly beside himself, “it’s weird! You have to acknowledge that it’s weird that he not only took a photo of you without your knowledge, but that he has it pinned up like you are his girlfriend or something? Really not going to say anything about that?”

    “For all you know,” she said, turning to face Flash as she did that day in class, “Peter could very well be my boyfriend!”

    Peter’s jaw dropped so far that she had to readjust his head to keep the tissue on his open wound. Gently prying her helping hand from his lip, “wait, really?” Peter asked. “You’d be my girlfriend after all this?”

    “This is disgusting,” Michelle interjected. Handing Peter’s photo back to him, she grabbed Flash by the collar of his polo shirt and dragged him down the hallway. “We’ll be back with ice and some band-aids.”

    She and Peter could hear Flash’s discontented grumbles as he followed Michelle down to the nurse’s office to retrieve some medical aid for Peter.

    “Are you really not freaked out?” Peter asked, staring up at her with big, brown, puppy-dog eyes.

    Sighing, she moved to stand in between Peter’s legs to inspect how much further his lip had split. “If you keep talking, the cut is never going to heal. This,” she gestured to Peter’s clearly damaged frame, “freaks me out more than anything. What’s happening to you? If I can help you, please let me. I care about you and I hate that you’re hurt.” She pouted.

    She was so close that Peter could smell all the floral notes in her perfume, and if he wanted to, he could hug himself close to her and never let go. “I can’t tell you what’s happening, but if I stop, things will get worse. Not just for me, but for everyone. I’m trying to help.”

    Running a hand through his hair, she shook her head. “Then let me help you. If you’re helping everyone, you deserve to have someone help you, and I want you to let me be that person, Peter.”

    Pinching the palm of his hand, Peter spotted Flash and Michelle returning with ice, ointment and bandages in hand, and he knew that he had to be quick. “It would really help me if you went out to dinner with me. Just being with you would help me. That’s why I took the picture of you. Every day that I felt like I was drowning, I would look at you, well the picture of you, and it would help me to breath again.”

    “Pick me up on Saturday. I’ll be ready at 7:30,” she agreed, much to not only Peter’s, but Flash’s surprise.

    “Come on!” Flash hissed, “how is it that Parker gets a date with a hot girl after he hides in the bushes and takes secret pictures of her? What the hell is going on right now? Do I live in the twilight zone?”

    “For fucks sake, Flash.” Michelle muttered, turning to him with squared shoulders, “she clearly knew that he was taking the photos of her. Who would smile while reading ‘The Flowers of Evil?’ And beyond that, she’s liked him for months and he’s liked her for months. All you’ve really done is finally bring them closer together. Congratulations Flash, your plan has officially backfired.”

    Flash groaned throughout the rest of the day and Michelle planned on teasing him for the rest of the school year. The girl’s cheeks were flushed pink until she went to sleep, and Peter couldn’t stop smiling, even though it only made the split in his lip worse.

   


There’s My Girl (Tom Holland Imagine)

Originally posted by tom-hollcnd

request: “Would you mind writing an imagine where tom comes home late to find the reader asleep in the office from studying and so he carries the reader up the stairs and they wake up in his arms and it’s just cute and fluffy and leads to cuddling or something?? Thank you so much!!!! Love your writing btw!!” (requested by anon)

short summary: ^^

length: 941 words

warnings: none

A/N: just a quick/short little thing, i was feeling a bit inspired last night tbh sorry it’s shit (also ik i’m doing requests out of order i’m also sorry for that too)


Tom had had a particularly long day, as both of his flights back home had been delayed for several hours each. He was a bit peeved considering how excited he was to see you earlier in the day and take you out for dinner, but those plans came to a halt seeing as it was currently 2:15AM.

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Harder (Smut)

MASTERLIST

A/N: This took me so long to finish. Here’s a mix between some jerking off and some passionate sex. I’d love to hear what you think. 

Word count: 3,295

Originally posted by stayinlove


After Karen and I picked up Shawn at the airport, we went straight back to their house to spend the night. Though Shawn would have rather gone home, he’d finally given in after a couple of hours pouting childishly in the car from the airport and back to Pickering. 

It wasn’t that I didn’t understand he wanted to spend his first night back in his own apartment, but his cousin were graduating tomorrow and driving all the way back and forth two days in a row was just stupid when Karen and Manny had left Shawn’s old room untouched since he moved. 

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Life Partner - Harry Styles

Breakdown: Harry ditches the “womanizer” label when he falls for an ordinary girl, and reflects on their relationship as he drives home from a concert, but is bombarded by paparazzi. 

Harry was once a hopeless romantic and firm believer in true love. Unfortunately, his rise to stardom stripped him from these beliefs and he lost all hope in ever finding someone to spend the remainder of his life with. Throughout the past few years, Harry has constantly been labeled as a “womanizer” by the media. Harry definitely agreed that his romantic partners changed frequently, but this was not due to being a womanizer. He finally realized that being a celebrity and having a serious relationship was an extremely challenging task, and to do so would require the right girl for him. Therefore, Harry acknowledged that while being an international artist, he would have to be content with short-term flings with women whom he knew would never be his life partner.

But that now seems like an entire lifetime ago for Harry. As Harry stares down at the beautiful woman sleeping beside him, he can’t stop himself from entering into a deep reflection. They have only been together for fourteen months, but Harry couldn’t bear the thought of not having her in his life.

Their paths crossed one brisk fall morning as Harry strolled the streets of Greater London. While trying to shield his identity, Harry toppled directly onto her, which caused her to plunge onto the rough ground. As a crowd took notice of the pop sensation, Harry bolted to take cover from the growing crowd. However, he did not flee without dragging her along with him so he could deliver a proper apology and ensure that she was not injured. But as the two waited for the crowd to disappear, they fell into a deep conversation which left Harry completely amazed in a way that he had never been before. As he stared into her twinkling eyes, he knew that she was not a girl that he could just walk away from.

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It Wasn’t Real (part two)

Summary: You’re part of the infamous Loser’s Club, and often asked, what are you afraid of? You reply, nothing, but what your friends don’t know is that your biggest fear is them.

prologue - one - two - three - four - five - six - seven - eight - nine - ten - eleven - finale

A/N: I hope you all enjoy this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it. Send me a little comment in the ask section or leave it below on what you thought of this chapter. It doesn’t have to be long, I appreciate every single comment I receive and telling me just helps inspire me to write it more frequently.

Pairing: Loser’s Club x Reader, slight Henry x Reader (you’ll see) and slight Eddie x Reader

Warnings: force, bullying, depressing and sad tones, pennywise.

Tag’s List: @chalatea - @darlingimafangirl - @chalatea - @myfriendmagislit -@frozenhealswrites - @fl0werb0nes18 - @emotionallyenterprised - @alec-lighwccd - @bellasett - @starshininginthedark - @tastefulcaring - @impulsivesuperrobin - @newtandthediamonds - @huge-waste-of-time - @jess-sxcks - @theoraekensnotsosecretlover - @moonageharry - @nieligator - @sufferingstilinski - @the-fantastic-fandom-dork - @horsiesandstuff - @arianamichelle04 - @allofmyships - @darlingimawriter - @gcnnyweasleys - @redvelvet-cupcake - @almusanzug - @d0nt-g0-imagines - @brighter-thanthe-sky
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bolded is who I couldn’t tag.


Originally posted by eddiekcspbrak

When you’d woken up that morning, the house was yet again filled with silence.

The weekend, in your opinion had gone by too quickly as you woke up that Monday morning. You had the house to yourself, as your mother hadn’t come home all weekend, but that in itself wasn’t odd. Your mother could not come home for days on end, weeks, depending on what man she’d found and set herself up with for a while.

Your mother would rather spend her time with randoms strangers that could hurt her for all she knew, than see her own daughter.

But of course, you weren’t shocked and it most definitely wasn’t anything out of the norm. And on the plus side, it meant you got to be by yourself for a while, which never seemed to happen anymore. You liked to believe that’s why the weekend had gone by quickly, and not because you dreaded the faces you were going to see when you walked through the school halls.

You sighed heavily as you sat up in your bed, groaning as you felt the muscles in your back pop. You tried to ignore the creaking your bed made as you moved, a constant annoyance as you tried to sleep at night. Letting your eyes fall on the alarm clock, you read the time seven in the morning, the time you usually woke up. Which also meant you had about thirty minutes to get ready.

You paused for a moment, letting your eyes wander around you. Something felt off, you weren’t sure just what yet. But there was an unsettling feeling in your stomach. Shrugging it off, you got up off your bed and begin getting ready for school.

It seemed though, that that morning you’d gotten a bit lost in your mind. You were suppose to leave at seven thirty, since it was a fifteen minute walk to school and classes began at eight-fifty in the morning. When you’d finally finished getting dressed, and throwing your hair up in some kind of look, the clock read seven-thirty-nine. You had about eleven minutes to get to school, which wouldn’t be bad, if you hurried.

Grabbing your bag off the kitchen table, where it’d been all weekend, you rushed out the door, slamming it behind you. You nearly tripped over your own feet as you ran down your steps, stumbling forward ungracefully. As you turned the corner to begin your walk on the road, you felt yourself slam against another. 

The force of the hit made you stumble back slightly, only for you to loose your footing and slam onto your butt. You huffed in annoyance, moaning in pain as you landed unnaturally on the concrete beneath you. 

“I’m so sorry! Are you okay?” Though your mind drifted from your own pain when you’d heard the voice, a voice that you’d never forget. It was a lot deeper than you remembered, but that was to be expected. Your thoughts were only confirmed when you peered up above you, and saw the familiar dark brown eyes above you.

“Mike?!” You asked, your voice cracking besides yourself. Mike looked away from his bike, the same bike he’d ridden as a child you’d noticed, and the packages packed within the basket to you. You watched his face fall, and his eyes flitter up above you to your house. “I’d forgotten this was your house…”

While it was an innocent enough statement, you felt your heart burn. He’d forgotten where you’d lived but you hadn’t forgotten the bike he used to ride as a child. 

Snapping out of your thoughts, you looked at your wrist watch; seven-forty-three. You didn’t accept Mike’s hand as you crawled up yourself, dusting off your jeans in a haste before turning and running the other direction. 

“Y/N?!”

“School!” You called back, looking over your shoulder. “I’m gonna be late!”


“You’re late… Ms. Y/L/N.” You paused in the doorway, you’d barely walked through the door before your science teacher had alerted everyone else of your presence. Clenching your fists, you nodded your head, already knowing if you were to say anything else it’d back fire on you.

Your stupid science teacher didn’t even spare you a glance, didn’t look up from his desk. But the many students sitting in their desks did, anything to get them away from the boring text book work they’d had to start. You checked your watch briefly, you were four minutes late. That’s it. You could still feel your heart pumping against your chest sporadically, and your breathing coming out unevenly.

You waited impatiently at the door, practically begging to be allowed in. “Please step out.” He ordered you, and you felt your mouth fall open in shock. “B-But i’m only four minutes lat-”

“Four minutes too late, Ms. Y/L/N.” Your science teacher interrupted you. Finally he looked up at you, but only halfway. You sputtered for a response, you were never late. Not once. You arrived five minutes early even if you could, but this one day. One day! And he was acting as if you’d committed a crime. “You know the rules. If you are late, you do not to come to class.”

It wasn’t normal that you got angry. Hell, half of the time it looked as if you didn’t even know what emotions were. But you could feel your chest burning, as if you’d been shot and the anger run through your body. So, you did the first thing that flew to your mind. “Fuck you.” And stormed out the door.

“Ms-Ms. Y/L/N! Get- You get back here right now!”

You stomped through the hallways, passing by a few skippers who gave you odd looks. But no part of you cared. You were stressed, tired and exhausted. None of you wanted to deal with any of this today, but you knew that you’d later regret that. When it came to tomorrow and you had to walk through the doors, but all of that slipped through your usual rationale mind.

You slammed the school doors behind you, walking around the steps up that you’d just descended down and fell against the school wall. You stood there for a moment, huffing in anger as you leaned your head against the brick wall behind you. What a dick…

Sighing, you reached into your bag, searching through until your hands fell on the intended object. Pulling out the box, you flipped the lip open, taking out the lighter and one cigarette stick. You stared at the cancer stick for a moment, you hadn’t smoked in a while, mainly because your mind had been on so many other things. It’d been Henry who’d gotten you into the habit but in a sick sort of way, you only did it because you distinctly remember Beverly had.

In it’s own twisted way, it felt like you were keeping a part of her to yourself. Even if it was a decease stick.

You don’t know how long you stood there, leaning against the wall and pumping your lungs with toxicity. It felt like a good while, just you and your thoughts. But the moment was ruined when you heard yelling and a bunch of words being mumbled and stumbled over together. You furrowed your brows, sighing as the peace and quiet was ripped from your ears before dropping the cigarette stick and squishing it with your shoe.

When you walked around the ledge of the staircase, which you’d been hiding behind, you found the one and only Henry Bowers. Of course Victor and Belch were with him, along with two other people you didn’t bother to remember. You’d been wondering where your boyfriend was, seeing as he liked to skip you’d thought you’d see him walk by.

But it seemed he’d had his hands busy if the struggling boy in the middle was anything to go by.

You would’ve walked off, like usual until you realized who they held in their arms. It seemed Eddie Kaspbrak was still a popular target for your boyfriend… You wondered why you’d never noticed that.

Nonetheless, you continued walking, making your way over to the five boys. “Hey, Henry.” You smiled lightly, bringing his attention on you. Whatever he’d been whisper to Eddie immediately feel silent on his lips as he found you. “Y/N, just who i’ve been looking for.” He grinned, and you refused the urge to cringe. “Come, it’s time to play.”

His words made you freeze, forgetting everything you’d been about to do as you stayed still. Henry noticed your sudden change in attitude and raised an eyebrow your way.

“What did you say?” You asked, fear etching your voice.

“What?” Henry asked, not amused. Blinking, you shook your head. You were overthinking it; “n-nothing.”

You did your best not to make eye contact with Eddie, who’d quieted his sobs but you could still hear him breath heavily in fear. You only hoped this worked…

Leaning up against Henry’s side, you peered up at him, smiling lustfully. You went up onto your tip-toes, breathing into his neck while you whispered; “why don’t we go somewhere?” When you leaned back, you watched his eyes widen and a disgusting smile fall on his lips.

A hand wound around your waist, and you felt yourself press against Henry. You looked over at Eddie who was still being held in Victor’s and Belch’s hands. Henry nodded and the two of them let Eddie go, but not without kicking him to the ground. You refused to flinch as you heard the thud and Eddie’s moan of pain, instead deciding to smile over at Henry who’d let go of you.

He walked over to Victor and Belch, whispering so you couldn’t hear but you could imagine what they were saying. And it made you disgusted.

Taking his distraction as a chance, you leaned down, grabbing Eddie who flinched from your grasp. He looked up in fear only to find you and nodding at him, you leaned down to grab him, helping him up. Eddie stumbled but nonetheless found his feet again and went to say something to you, but your mind was on something else.

Out of the corner of your eye you saw Henry turn towards you, so you shoved Eddie away. He nearly tripped over his own two feet, but caught himself and peered back at you. Henry stepped up to you and you saw his face falter, for even just a second, he’d saw…

“I heard you told a teacher to fuck off today, Y/N.” Henry grounded out; “that’s my girl.” You closed your eyes at his words, hating when he objectified you like that. You hated it even more know that Eddie was there to witness it. Reaching a hand out, Henry grabbed ahold of your wrist much like yesterday, but this time his grip was much more hard. Almost bruising.

You winced, but didn’t fight as he started walking off.

Eddie stayed behind, watching the encounter before him in shock before he felt two shadows fall over him. “Enjoying the show, freak?” Victor sneered and Eddie took a step back in habit.

“Run off, Eds.”


The next day went much like you expected, you got detention. Of course you didn’t much care, it gave you an excuse not to have to see Henry after school. 

Though first half of the day was hell, boring. Not to mention having to explain the bruise on your wrist to your mother when you’d gotten home that night. She didn’t much care for you as long as you looked pretty. A bruise on an underage kid could be un-beneficial for her, so it was important you looked untouched.

Slamming your locker door shut, you pounced your knee, wanting to get outside as quick as you could for lunch. You need a cigarette and bad, no matter how bad it was for you. But as you turned around, something made you freeze. 

IT. IT. It- It stood there, through the midst of a crowded hallway. IT. You felt your eyes go wide and your heart beat grow rapid as IT raise it’s hand and waved slowly at you, teasingly slow and a sickening smile grew on it’s lip. But- but how? How? You and the rest- you’d defeated him. At least for another twenty-seven years when you were long and gone.

It’d only been four.

And for the first time that number seemed small, when for you those four years had been agonizingly long.

“Wha- what?” You whispered out.

“I’m back!” Pennywise cheered, aloud but not one of the other kids noticed anything. How? “I’m back. I’m back! Back! Back, back, back, back.”

“Come back, Y/N!” Blinking, IT was gone. As if he’d vanished, and when you looked in the place he’d stood, nothing. Furrowing your brows, you stepped back only for your eyes to fall before you on another figure. “Eddie?!”

“I’ve been calling you for two whole minutes, Y/N.” Eddie frowned, “are you okay?” It felt odd for him to ask that question. To seem as if he cared.

“I-I-” You looked past Eddie’s head, IT wasn’t there. “I’m fine… Eddie, why are you here?”

“I wanted to thank you for yesterday…” Eddie mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck in shame. His words made you pause, and you to finally focus on him completely. 

“For what?”

Eddie seemed genuinely surprised you didn’t know what he was referring to; “for helping me with Henry and his friends…” You didn’t miss the way his eyes flew to your wrist where the purple and blue mark was growing darker. You grabbed it with your other hand, hiding it from view and cursing yourself for not wearing a longer sleeved sweater. “If you hadn’t come when you had… well, i’m not sure what would’ve happened.”

The experience of speaking to Eddie was so foreign to you, and you felt great discomfort grow within you. Now, you really needed a puff. “It’s fine, don’t worry about it.” You rambled on, looking past him; “look, Eddie I need to go-”

“Eds!”


Part Three?

Please let me know what you thought!

Secrets (trans!peter)


For @chase-is-not-crash

PART TWO

********************

“Crap crap crap crap crap.”

Peter, in full Spider Man costume, dropped onto a roof and ducked behind an AC unit, holding his right arm tight to his chest.

It hurt, oh man it hurt and he could hardly draw a breath between the pain and his binder was too tight today and honestly he thought he might pass out if he couldn’t get laying down somewhere safe. But on this side of the city he was minimum twenty minutes of swinging, and close to an hour taxi ride from the safety of Aunt Mays apartment.

Too far.

He dropped his head back against the AC unit and tried to suck in a deep breath, tried not to scream when everything seized up. His arm, his chest…this was a horrible day.

And he was late for his injection, which made everything worse. He was supposed to take it last night, and had passed out exhausted before he remembered and then had ran out the door late to school and now here he was several hours later.

“What’s up, Spidey?” A deep voice startled him, but not as much as the red and black masked face that poked around the corner. “I’m sensing a damsel in distress.”

“Go away, Deadpool.” Peter flinched behind his mask at the ‘damsel’ comment. “I’m fine.”

Liar!” Deadpool crowed and moved to kneel in front of him. “Who knew our friendly neighborhood Spider Man lied like a fat kid stealing cake?”

“Please.” Peter bit out. “Please. Leave.”

“Hey.” Deadpool’s voice dropped, softened. “You’re not alright, alright? Plus you’re like twelve, and I just can’t leave a twelve year old superhero alone and hurting on the roof somewhere. Where’s your dad?”

“Who–”

“The Iron Giant.” Deadpool said impatiently. “I heard he looks out for you.”

“Don’t want him to know.” Peter was starting to feel a little lightheaded, lack of oxygen and the pain radiating up his arm making him dizzy. “And I’m not twelve.”

“Well you certainly aren’t eighteen.” Deadpool looked around, then seemed to come to a decision. “Well, I live close by, want to come to my place? We can get you patched up and–”

No!” Peter blurted. “I mean, no. No thank you.”

Keep reading

Exhausting

Harry rolled his shoulders experimentally and regretted it as soon as the pain of his clenched muscles shot through him. His arms were heavy and holding his head up became more difficult with every passing second. He was simply exhausted. He dragged his feet across the floor, not caring about the mud on his shoes. He almost collapsed when he reached the stairs; he couldn’t go up.  He could barely move!

He was about to surrender to the aching in his body, his insides screaming at him to lie down, when two arms circled him from behind. Harry didn’t turn around and made no sound as the arms tightened around him and a body pressed against him from behind. The exhaustion didn’t vanish, but it was momentarily replaced by shame.

Draco had begged him not to go on this mission, not to go undercover for two months. But Draco didn’t understand. Harry had no choice. Still, he felt like he let Draco down. They hadn’t been able to communicate at all for the last eight weeks.

Harry grunted when Draco started moving them up the stairs, pushing Harry forward with his own body. Everything around him became a blur. He closed his eyes as Draco undressed him.

“Are you hurt somewhere?” Draco asked curtly. Harry tried to shake his head and winced.

“No,” he croaked. “They…” He took a deep breath and tried to open his eyes. “They would have taken me to St Mungo’s if they’d thought it was bad.”

Draco huffed in response and wordlessly moved them to the shower. When the first splash of hot water hit Harry’s scalp, he let out a whimper. He leaned back against Draco and let the other man support his weight. Draco’s touch was tentative and yet sure as he washed the grime out of Harry’s hair and off his body.

The hot water made everything blurry again and Harry felt so dizzy and weak, his knees gave away. Draco caught him before he could hit the floor. Draco always caught him.

Harry blinked and realised he must have passed out. His head was on a fluffy pillow, a soft mattress under him. His fingers brushed the silk sheets as he slowly moved his hand, searching the warm touch of his boyfriend. Long fingers intertwined with his. Draco brought their hands to his face and hesitantly kissed Harry’s knuckles. When Harry brushed his fingers across Draco’s cheek, the smile that had been starting to form on his lips immediately died. He turned his head, so he could see the blond’s face.

“Draco,” Harry said, his voice thick and raspy. The other man was looking at him with red-rimmed eyes, clearly trying not to sob. Harry’s chest tightened at the sight. Before he could say anything else, Draco moved closer to him and buried his face in the crook of Harry’s neck. Feeling the wetness of Draco’s tears on his skin almost made him choke.

“Please,” Draco sobbed, uncontrollably now. “Please, don’t ever do that to me again. I thought you were dead.”

Harry lifted his other arm to wrap it around his boyfriend. His face contorted in pain, but it didn’t matter how much pain he was in.

“I’m so sorry,” he murmured, stroking Draco’s hair.

“Please, Harry! I know it’s selfish, but-”

Harry pulled him closer and pressed his cheek on Draco’s forehead.

“No, it’s okay. It’s okay for you to feel that way,” he whispered. They’ve had many arguments about Harry’s job in the past, but never had Draco broken down like this before. It was the final straw for Harry to reconsider his career. The last few weeks hadn’t been easy for him either. He had questioned more and more if this was all worth it, risking his life like that over and over again.

“I’m sorry I missed both our birthdays,” Harry murmured against Draco’s hair.

“There’s still a bit of cake left,” Draco hiccuped. “Molly brought it over yesterday. Andromeda and Teddy were here, too. They thought you might come home for your… for your birthday.” Draco squirmed as he started sobbing again. Harry leaned down to kiss his cheek, suppressing a groan as his muscles protested.

“I won’t leave you again. I promise, okay?”

Draco grunted and shook his head vigorously.

“No, I mean it,” Harry said, “I won’t do it again. I hate seeing you like this and frankly, if it were the other way round, I’d probably go insane. So, I’m going to tell Kingsley tomorrow, that I’m taking a leave of absence. And then we’ll see where things will go, okay?”

It took Draco a while to calm down after that. When he peeked up at Harry, his eyes were puffy and his face blotchy.

“I should be the one comforting you. I’m sorry for pressuring you like this,” he murmured.

“No,” Harry said, resolutely. “Nothing is worth making you feel like this. And honestly, I hate being away from you all the time. We had so many plans when we started going out and we didn’t even get to do half of it because of my stupid job. Sod that! I want to spend every waking moment with you.”

Draco sniveled, rather inelegantly.

“You don’t have to say that just because you think it’s what I want to hear.”

“Well, believe me or not,” Harry said, tightening his grip on Draco again, “from now on, you won’t be able to get rid of me.”

Draco buried his face in Harry’s neck again, his body shaking. Harry realised this was the second time he’d seen Draco cry. And Harry promised himself it would be the last.

Okay, so I see a lot of posts floating around Tumblr about how awful/exhausting/stressful adulthood is. They make me laugh and they’re relatable and sometimes I reblog them. The thing is, though, for me, adulthood is actually way better than being a teenager was–so I wanted to share some things I love about being an adult, just to even out the balance. I don’t think I have any teenage followers, but maybe some in their early twenties? Anyway, I don’t want people to fear adulthood, because there are amazing things about it:

–Normally, I end my evenings by sitting on my sofa in my flat in pleasant solitude, drinking herbal tea and reading and listening to that morning’s Essential Classics on Radio 3. This should be the dictionary definition of bliss.

–Even though I have experienced bullying as an adult as well as when I was a child/teenager, I feel like my internal resources for dealing with it are better now and growing all the time. I no longer feel like the bad things people say to and about me define me.

–Buying my own laundry detergent means I can finally pick one that I’m not allergic to. I am no longer 110% covered in red itches at all times.

–I have friends who are boys and my dad isn’t in my house to constantly harrass me about them.

–Last year I went to a concert of science fiction scores played by the Royal Philharmonic with someone I know slightly from church. It was the actual coolest.

–My brother and I are friends now that we live in entirely different cities. He texted me the other day for advice on his CV. It was nice.

–My friends either share my interests or love the fact that I’m so interested in those things. It’s been years since I’ve said to anyone “I learnt an interesting thing today!” and they’ve replied, flatly, “define interesting”.

–I just feel so much more like myself than I did when I was a teenager. I’m okay with hating make-up/loving Disney films/being super career-driven/being great with kids, and the fact that those things would seem to make me a contradiction, and that I’m actually just me.

–My mum keeps defending my right to be single to anyone who tries to commiserate with her about the fact that she doesn’t have grandbabies. Adulthood, for me, has meant becoming friends with my mum.

–I know enough about myself and the world now to realise that understanding social/relational stuff is a real weak point of mine. When I don’t understand those things now, I say “I don’t understand this” to my friends, and they help me without laughing at me. (Then I help them with their CVs and knowing where their apostrophes belong. Turn and turn about is fair play).

–Enough bad things have come and gone in my life that I know dark seasons will pass, and even the things that aren’t temporary (my dad will probably never not be a borderline-homeless misogynistic conspiracy theorist again) are just part of my life, not the whole of it. They don’t consume me. When awful things happen, I am sad for a few weeks or months, but I know that one day I will be not sad for a while, and that is worth hanging on for. This is something I never could have known when I was a teenager, because not enough bad things had come and gone from my life.

–I would not trade the worst day of my last six months (which was awful and heartbreaking and I think I literally cried for 24 hours straight) for any day from my life aged 11-16. I have been sad, this year, but I also knew it would pass. It gets better. It gets so much better.
BTS Reaction - You fainting from exhaustion/stress

May contain sensitive content, read at your own risk!

Masterlist

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Bad Days

Prompt:  Could you do platonic Moxiety with Virgil having a tough time and needing a cuddle but he doesn’t want to say anything but Patton gets it anyway? - @chris-specs (sorry for the delayed reply, friend, this one took a little longer than I thought)

Characters/Pairing: Moxiety (written platonic but can be read however you like)

Categories: Angst, hurt-comfort, negative self-talk

Thank you to @thuriweaver and @parsnipit for giving this a once-over for me!

*

For the most part, things really had been better since Virgil revealed his name.

The other sides had been doing their best to make him feel more welcome. They’d gone out of their way to include him, inviting him to more movie nights and involving him more during planning sessions for videos. They’d even deferred to him on a few points and altered their plans to take his concerns into account.

Of course, those are on Virgil’s good days. The days when he has things mostly under wraps, and the others find him tolerable. He has bad days, too, and those…

Well. It’s easy for them to say they’ll try to include him and make him feel heard when he’s at his best. Even he doesn’t mind himself so much, at his best.

He was not at his best today. 

Keep reading

Please Don’t Go

Originally posted by babyangelmichael

A/N: Uh I was listening to some throwback music again and this is kinda based around a Boyz II Men’s song

Warning: Contains Sexual Content & Mentions of Alcoholism. View At Your Own Risk!!!

     Ashton sat alone in the dark. Curtains drawn to block out the early morning light. He was resting into the sofa and his hand clutched a bottle of vodka with a strong grip. His jaw clenched and he brought the bottle up to his lips and took a sip of the alcohol. Ashton’s eyes were dilated and clouded over as if he was stuck in a trance. They stayed locked on the moving boxes the sat near the front door. The moving boxes that held your belongings. Ashton swallowed hard and he wiped a tear that was rolling down his face. It was his fault that you were leaving him.

The two of you had been having problems for months and on top of that Ashton began to stay out late and he started drinking. It was becoming a hassle trying to handle him when he was drunk. His temper had elevated and the insecurity of losing you had drove him mad. At some point he had became violent and threatened anyone that looked your way. There was something about seeing him get into fights that struck a chord with you. It made you realize that if Ashton acted this way when someone pissed him off, then what would happen if he got angry with you while he was drunk. You didn’t feel comfortable being around Ashton when he was in that state of mind. As the arguments increased you feared for your safety even more. Ashton of course promised that he would never put his hands on you, but you couldn’t take his word for it. You never know what could make a person snap. Even if he had never physically hurt you before, there was still the thought that Asthon could and it scared you. 

The sound of the door unlocking echoed around the loft apartment and soon the door opened allowing a flood of light to sparkle into the entrance. Ashton stayed in his spot and he closely watched as you came inside. You were dressed in sweats, hair pulled back, and face bare of makeup. It was as if someone could see the exhaustion radiating off of you. You were sick of the fighting and just needed to get out. You tossed your keys on the table next to the door and let out a sigh. You were too busy scrolling through your phone to notice Ashton sitting in the living room. He took another swig from the bottle and licked his lips. “Is the moving truck coming today?” Ashton questioned, his voice sounded rough and the sound of it made you jump in your spot.

“Holy fuck, Ashton! You scared me,” you sighed, placing your hand over your heart. Your eyebrows furrowed when you turned to look at him. “Really sitting in the dark?” you sighed, walking over to the windows to pull open the curtains. Ashton groaned as light filled the living room and his arm came up to shield his eyes. Once you had adjusted to the light you finally got a good look at him. Ashton looked worse than you. His hair sticking up, facial hair grown out more as if he hadn’t shaved in days, and bags under his eyes. You felt a tinge of sorrow at the sight of him but quickly shook the feeling away when you spotted the bottle of alcohol in his hands. “Of course you’re drinking,” you scoffed, walking towards the moving boxes. You began to mutter under your breath and grabbed the tape from off one of the boxes to continue securing your things.

Ashton tilted the bottle of alcohol in his hands and looked at it in disgust. The taste of it almost didn’t have an affect on him. Somehow Ashton had become immune to the burning sensation of hard alcohol. With a deep sigh he sat the bottle down on the coffee table and stood up from his spot. “Is the moving truck coming today?” he asked again, moving to sit at the bar stool. 

“Yeah. I won’t be here when they make the second trip, but Joey will give you back the key,” you told him. You bent down to pick up the box you had just taped and placed it closer to the door. You chewed on your bottom lip contemplating on if you wanted to tell Ashton something else Joey was going to hand him. “He’ll also hand you the d-divorce papers,” you said. Ashton blinked back in surprise and his eyebrows furrowed at your words.

“The what? No-no I’m not signing anything, Y/N,” Ashton said, “When did we ever decide on that? I recall us talking about you moving out. I remember us talking about being separated for a bit, but divorce? We never discussed that.” His voice had rose in anger and you flinched at his tone. “Fucking divorce papers…I’m not signing shit,” he scoffed, rubbing at his chin. Ashton thought you were being a bit too dramatic. Sure you two were having problems, but it wasn’t that bad for you to file for divorce. He had been holding out hope that you’d get over this rough patch. He agreed on letting you move out to clear your head. At least that way Ashton knew you were still his in a sense, but divorce meant you were no longer together. He would rather die than divorce you. He sucked in a deep breath and stood up from his spot to approach you.

You felt his hand grab your elbow and you let out a deep sigh. “Can we just talk about this please baby,” he said, voice sounding desperate. You looked up at the ceiling and your teeth sunk into your bottom lip.

“I’m done talking about it, Ashton. You made your choice and I made mine,” you said, brushing him off. “I think I left some stuff upstairs,” you said, quickly walking away from him. Your footsteps sounded loud as you ran up the stairs and disappeared from his view. Ashton rubbed at his forehead and took a long look at the boxes. He despised them knowing that once they were gone you were never coming back. The first night you had left made Ashton realize he couldn’t let your love slip away. Ashton needed you because you were his rock and without you here there’s no telling what he’d do. He wanted to change for the better but that was easier said than done. 

You sat at the edge of the bed and looked out the glass doors of the bedroom with a melancholy look. You could never think straight when you were around Ashton and you could feel hot tears spring at the corner of your eyes. “Stop it,” you hissed at yourself, wiping your face as the tears started to flow. “Stop crying,” you said, trying to put on a strong voice. It hurt to see Ashton like this and you knew he needed help. He had to control his anger and how much he drank. Someone had knocked on the door the sound echoed loudly around the loft. You stood up from your spot and patted your cheeks twice. You left the bedroom and at the same time wiped away the rest of your tears. Ashton wasn’t going to make you feel bad for wanting a change. Especially a change where you needed to feel safe around the person you’re with. The knocks continued and your eyes darted towards Ashton. He was still in the spot you had left him in. “You’re not going to get that at all?” you huffed, brushing pass him to open the door. 

“MOVING DAY!” your best friend, Lea, cheered, entering your apartment with your other best friend, Joey. Your eyebrows rose up at her words and you gave a quick smile. You weren’t in a happy mood, but you did feel relief about leaving the toxic environment you had been in. “Oop hey, Ashton I didn’t know you were here,” Lea said, giving you a ‘my bad’ look in an apology for her greeting towards you. Ashton rolled his eyes and began to shuffle upstairs to your once shared room. On the way he swiped a scotch bottle from out the bar and soon left you and your friends in the living room. 

“He’s still drinking?” Joey questioned earning a silent nod from you in return. 

“I don’t even know how to deal with him anymore,” you sniffled, “Whoever that is upstairs is not my husband.” Joey sighed at your words and his hand came down to squeeze your shoulder in reassurance. You shook your head “It’s fine. Let’s just load up the car,” you said, pulling away from your friend and grabbing one of the moving boxes. Lea and Joey shared a look and then followed in pursuit. Ashton seemed to spend the rest of his time in the bedroom drinking away his feelings. He had only peeked over the railing once to get a glimpse of you; wondering where it was the two of you went wrong. When half of your stuff was packed into the car you made your way upstairs. Ashton was laid out on the bed, headphones in, and eyes closed to block out the reality that was happening around him. You leaned against the door frame and watched him curiously. “Ashton,” you said, trying to get his attention. When he didn’t respond you called his name again and this time your voice rose to a louder pitch. You pushed off the door frame and walked over to him. “Ash!” you yelled, yanking the headphones out his ear. He jumped in surprise and looked at you with wide eyes. 

“What?” Ashton said, eyes scanning over your face. Your eyebrows furrowed at his tone making you take a step away from him, cross your arms, and clear your throat. 

“I’m taking the first half of my stuff to the apartment,” you told him. Ashton nodded at your words and for some reason you found yourself lingering. “Lea and Joey will be back for the rest while I go to my appointment-” you paused to walk towards the door but then stopped yourself to turn back towards Ashton. You gave him a hopeful look and you wanted Ashton to show some sign of resistance. You wanted him to show some attempt of change, but instead he took a swig from the Scotch bottle. Instead of saying what you were going to say, you straighten back your shoulders and said “When you get a chance send the divorce papers to my lawyer.” You left after that leaving Ashton alone to his thoughts. Five minutes had passed of your departure and Ashton was already upset. Pacing back and forth all while chugging the alcohol. You were tearing him apart and he was tearing you apart. Your last words rang through his head and Ashton let out an aggravated yell throwing the glass bottle of alcohol towards a wall. The sound of glass hitting against the wall was loud and the liquid splashed against the wall and dripped down onto the floor. Ashton’s knees began to buckle under him and he fell down onto the floor and broke down crying. 

     You were curled up on the couch in a blanket, hand grasping tight to the television remote as you flicked through the channels. The only thing showing up on most channels seemed to be infomercials and it made you wonder exactly why you were up this late. You hadn’t been sleeping much over the past month anyway. Staying up late and filling your nights with television to not hear yourself think. It was different to be living alone and that was the problem. You felt alone. It was what kept you up at night. Being aware that you were no longer living with someone you had been with for years. It was weird and you weren’t sure how you coped with being alone before Ashton ever came into your life. It was reaching the early hour of 2am when you were starting to finally drift off. Your eyelids becoming heavy and mouth parting as you started to fall asleep. It was for only a second that you felt the relief of sleep only to be pulled out of it by someone banging loudly on your front door. Your head flew up in shock and it took everything in you to get up from the couch. You pulled the blanket tightly around you and yawned as the loud knocking continued. 

You stood on your tippy toes to look through the peephole and your breath hitched in your throat at the sight of the wavy light brown hair. Ashton was leaning up against your door, face pressed into the cold wood and fist pounding on the door. You quickly stepped away from the door and pressed your back against it. “Y/N! I KNOW YOU’RE HOME PLEASE OPEN THE DOOR!” Ashton shouted, banging on it harder this time. It was too early for this to be happening and from how his voice was slurring you knew Ashton must have been drunk. “Y/N!” Ashton shouted even more, making your eyes shut tight and teeth sink hard into your bottom lip. You knew if you didn’t answer Ashton would end up waking your neighbors. After a minute you sighed in defeat and unlocked the door. Ashton stumbled inside nearly falling on his face. Once he had caught his balance he turned to face you. 

“Ashton what are you doing here?” you questioned, yawning once more. He had statred shaking his head and you noticed Ashton was gripping at some papers. The sheets crumpled and torn around the edges. “Where have you been? Do you know I’ve been trying to get a hold of you?” you questioned, still keeping a safe distance away from him. Ever since you moved out Ashton had been in hiding. You spent a whole month without hearing from him. No calls or anything. You even contacted the boys to see if they’d heard from Ashton, but sadly no. It had almost gotten to a point where you were beginning to worry about him. “Ashton,” you sighed, trying hard to get through to him. He ignored your words and kept mumbling to himself about something. “You’re fucking wasted,” you sighed.

“I-I can’t sign this,” Ashton slurred, shaking the papers at you. Your eyes squinted and you pinched at the bridge of your nose. “I refuse to sign them. I don’t want to lose you baby,” he whispered, “I can’t-please I just can’t lose you.” You were taken aback by his words and realized Ashton was crying. He had been drinking, but the emotion he was giving off was no longer anger. It was sadness. 

“You have to sign them,” you sighed, now being the one to shake your head at him. “Sign them and go home Ashton,” you said, voice coming out stronger this time. Ashton let out a small laugh, the sound coming out watery as he was still crying. He approached you making you back away from him until your back hit against the wall. Ashton trapped you between him and the wall and his hands came up to press on the wall and rest over your head. His head dipped low until his face was inches away from yours. 

“No baby. You don’t mean that,” Ashton whispered, nudging his nose against yours. You sucked in a deep breath and your eyes closed as you felt the tears start to come. The stench of alcohol radiated off of him and you shook your head. “Tell me you still love me,” he mumbled, tucking his head into the crook of your neck and sending a peck to your skin. “We can make it work-we can work it out. Please don’t go away from me,” he whimpered, sending more kisses onto your neck. You had started to cry at that point. Your body wracking with sobs. It’s not like you didn’t love Ashton because you did. You loved him with all your heart, but you couldn’t go through this cycle of negativity and pain over again. “Please don’t go,” he cried once again, hands dropping down to grab at your hips. His fingers pressed hard into your skin like a child clutching to their favorite stuffed bear and you cried even more.

“You need help,” you said through tears, body relaxing into his touch against your wishes. 

“I need you,” Ashton mumbled, lips trailing up to kiss at your jaw. You shook your head again feeling the tears run down your cheeks. He wasn’t listening to you. Ashton’s mind being somewhere else with the alcohol in his system. You needed Ashton to understand that the two of you couldn’t move forward until he dealt with his own issues. 

“No, Ash no.” You sniffled, hand reaching up to grab his chin and turning it so that he’d face you. His lips were slightly puckered and his skin felt soft to the touch. “You. Need. Help.” The words came out slowly and your eyes bore into his, holding his gaze. “The drinking has to stop,” you said, beginning to chew on your bottom lip. Ashton tore his gaze away from you and his grip on your hips released. “You want us to work it out then go to rehab,” you softly said, finally taking a breath. He went quiet at your words and pulled back to hold you at arms length. “Do you understand what I’m saying?” you questioned. Ashton nodded at your words, but then shook his head. Your eyebrows furrowed as you watched his face scrunch up and nose wrinkle. His eyes squinted and he gagged for a few seconds.

Ashton had lurched forward his head dropping as he began to throw up everything he had been drinking that night. You grimaced at the sight feeling uncomfortable as he continued to empty his stomach out onto your hard wood floor. Finally after some time Ashton coughed twice and spit out the excess vomit. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and lazily looked at you. “Mm I’m sorry,” Ashton muttered, looking down at himself in disgust. The splash of it had hit against your floor and backfired onto Ashton. He was covered in his own vomit. You sighed loudly and rubbed at your temples. Ashton looked about ready to pass out, but you weren’t going to let him sleep in his own vomit. 

“Come on,” you said, stepping around the puddle of throw up. You bent down and your arms slipped under his arms so that you could haul him up. Ashton placed his weight on you and you pulled him as best as you could towards your bathroom. Once inside you sat him down on the toilet seat and turned your back so you could turn on the water. You plugged the tub up and allowed it to fill. Ashton was too out of it to wash himself so you were going to have to do it. “Stand up for me,” you coaxed, trying to lift Ashton up yourself. He complied to your words and stood up. You grabbed at the hem of his shirt and pulled it up over his head. Ashton looked like a lost puppy as you began to undress him. Your fingers brushed against his abdomen and Ashton could feel his skin heat up at the touch. Your fingers worked on unbuttoning his jeans. Pulling down the zipper and yanking them down his legs. A smirk made its way onto his lips when you had gone down onto your knees. The minute you felt his hand grab at your hair you slapped it away. “Stop it,” you huffed, standing up once you had him out of his jeans. Finally Ashton was standing naked in front of you and the tub was filled up with water. 

The water felt warm against Ashton’s skin and his head rested back against the wall as he let out a moan of comfort. Steam coated the bathroom mirrors and you sat on the floor watching Ashton. Your fingers dipped into the water and silence filled the air. It almost felt like a comfortable silence, but you knew it wasn’t going to last for long. Ashton’s hand lifted from out the water and he reached out to wipe a tear that was rolling down your cheek. You closed your eyes at the gesture and then cleared your throat. Your hand dipped into the water to grab at the wash cloth and you poured some body wash into it before grabbing Ashton’s arm and washing him. He sat quietly in the water and allowed you to run the towel across his body and wash away the day he had had. The once clear water had become foggy as the dirt washed off of him. Ashton stood up and he felt his cheeks heat up when he realized he had gotten hard. “M’sorry…it’s just the heat and-” his hands went down to cover his hard on and you nodded at his words. He had sobered up just a bit, but was still slightly out of it. You unplugged the tub and grabbed a towel for him to dry off with. 

“I have extra toothbrushes in the cabinet. You can wash out that taste while I grab you something to wear,” you told him, handing over the towel an exiting the bathroom. You began to rummage through your drawers looking for some of Ashton’s old clothes that you had acquired into your own wardrobe. You found a t-shirt and some basketball shorts that you had worn the first time you’d spent the night with him. You grabbed the articles of clothing and made your way back into the bathroom where Ashton was hunched over the sink brushing his teeth. He looked over to you for a split second and spit out the excess toothpaste. 

“Thank you,” he muttered, going back to brushing as you sat the clothes on the counter. You nodded at his words then left out to go clean up his vomit from your living room floor. It was reaching 4am and you were tired as can be. Eyes bloodshot, but not in the way that Ashton’s was, hair a mess, and body exhausted. You grabbed some rubber gloves out the kitchen drawer and began to clean. Finally after five minutes you were finished cleaning and sprayed some Febreze to hide the stench. You dragged yourself towards your bedroom finally ready to close your eyes and get some type of rest. When you came to the entrance of your bedroom you found Ashton passed out asleep on your bed. You shook your head and just climbed into bed with him. A sigh of relief left your lips as your head fell onto the pillow. Not too long after Ashton’s arm draped over your body and he pulled you closer into him. You didn’t even fight it this time and just allowed his body to mold into yours. “I love you,” he hummed, finally drifting off to sleep. You found yourself smiling at his words and squeezed his hand. Soon succumbing to sleep yourself. 

     Ashton was still hard. His crotch pressed up against your ass and the feeling of his boner was what had woken you up. You felt yourself grow wet at the pressure and you became angry with yourself for wanting Ashton in this moment. Ever since you both separated you had been lacking sex and you knew he had been too. Your eyes darted towards the clock and you let out another groan. You had only slept for two hours. Turning back to look at Ashton you could tell he was still deep in sleep. He was probably having a sex dream which is what brought on his boner. You felt your skin heat up and you tried to shake the thought of him filling you up from out your mind. You hated how easy it was for him to turn you on even if he wasn’t awake. The whole thing felt inappropriate especially considering the events that had happened earlier. Ashton snuggled closer to you and he softly grind his crotch into your ass and a moan slipped from his lips. You couldn’t take it anymore, turning in your spot and shaking Ashton awake. He groaned and pushed your hand away.

“What?” Ashton mumbled tiredly, eyes peeling open. Even though he was tired Ashton looked as if he had fully sobered up in the little time he had slept. 

“Can you fix your damn boner it’s making me-It woke me up,” you corrected yourself. Ashton’s eyebrows furrowed at your words and he lifted the covers to take a look for himself. 

“Sorry,” he mumbled for the third time that night. Ashton scratched at the back of his neck and he looked at you for a second almost hesitating to get out of bed. “Excuse me,” he said, finally sliding out from under the covers. You sat up in your spot and watched him walk towards the door. Your breathing had quickened in pace and your fingers fiddled with the duvet as Ashton left your room to take care of his “problem”. You sat in silence and stared at the door where he had gone through. Your core throbbed and you began to argue with yourself. 

“Ash,” you called, losing out to how your mind felt against what your body and heart wanted. He was quick to come back, head poking through the door to give you a quizzical look. 

“Yeah?” Ashton asked, eyebrows knitting in question. Your mouth parted for a split second and you licked your lips not sure how to voice what you wanted. You bit down on your bottom lip and stared at him in innocence. Ashton recognized the look you were giving him. You had often used it when you two had just finished arguing about something stupid and you were too stubborn to actually say you wanted to fuck him. His eyes widened in surprise and broken sounds left his lips. “A-Are you positive you want to do that?” he questioned, earning an eager nod from you in return. “Oh-um,” Ashton felt his cock grow harder at your unspoken words. His eyes clouding over in lust as he watched you rub up and down your arm in nervousness. 

“Please don’t make me beg,” you whined out, becoming inpatient at the fact that Ashton was still frozen in his spot. Ashton was quick to move from his spot. The bed dipped as he climbed on it once more and you moaned in delight when his lips pressed against yours in a passionate kiss. It had been months since you last kissed Ashton and it felt like you were at home. Your hands snaked around his neck and you pulled him into a deeper kiss. It was one of both hunger and need. Teeth clashing together and tongues massaging one another. “Mhmm I missed you,” you breathed into him, the kiss parting as he pulled off your shirt. You weren’t wearing a bra and Ashton groaned at the sight of your breasts. His head dipped into the crook of your neck and he kissed at your skin. This time you wanted the action and your head tilted to the side to allow him more access to your neck. Soft moans left your mouth as he trailed his lips down and took your nipple into his mouth. Goosebumps rose on your skin and your hands laced into Ashton’s hair. He pulled away to give you another kiss and you tugged at his shirt wanting him to take it off. 

“Patience, baby doll you’ll get to feel me soon,” Ashton whispered, pinching at your nipple until it was a hardened nub. You let out a moan and your hand reached out to grip at his shoulder. Your core throbbed and you felt a flood of wetness hit you when Ashton toyed with the hem of your pajama shorts. Your lips trailed across his jaw sucking tiny love bites into his skin. His moans turned you on even more and your hands slipped into his basketball shorts and softly grabbed at his cock. Ashton’s body tensed up against yours for a second and then he relaxed as you began to stroke his cock. His grip on your hips tightened and Ashton’s face fell to rest on your shoulder as he enjoyed the pleasure you were giving him. It took everything in him to pull away from you making a whine leave your lips. “Mhm no-keep doing that and I’m gonna explode,” he said, finally yanking down your pajama shorts. 

Once again Ashton’s lips were back on your body. He kissed between the valley of your breasts and marked your under boob with love bites. He continued his trek down your body making sure to kiss every inch of your skin as possible. Heat rose at your chest when Ashton kissed at your ankle and he sent you a wink. He kissed down your leg and came close to your core. His breath felt hot against your skin and Ashton took a tentative lick up your folds. Your eyes closed in bliss and when he took another lick, longer and the tip of his tongue fiddling with your clit, your back arched. Ashton’s hands slipped under your ass and he pulled you closer beginning to eat you out some more. Your thighs quivered as Ashton nipped at your bundle of nerves his pointer finger circling over your entrance. He sucked at your folds and the sound of him slurping up your juices sounded loud in your ears. Your moans bounced off the walls and you wrapped your legs around his head to draw him more into you. Ashton’s cock pulsated at the sound of your moans and he plunged his finger into your heat. “Ashton please,” you whimpered, hands fisting at the sheets. You needed him badly and the way he was licking you out had your body aching in the best way possible. He slipped another finger inside of you and began to thrust them, tongue circling around your clit and making your body convulse. Your eyes fluttered as you felt deep in the pit of your stomach your release approaching. It felt so good and you began to rock against Asthon’s fingers, slowly riding it as your release continued to build up. He curled his fingers up and the tips of it brushed at your g-spot. Ashton replaced his fingers with his tongue and he moaned at your taste. The vibrations of his moans hit your clit and your legs shook as you came to your release. 

Ashton hummed as your hips rose and legs kicked out in pleasure. He took two more licks up your slit and then kissed at your inner thigh. Your hand rose to rest at your forehead and you tried to focus on catching your breath. Your skin felt on fire as Ashton kissed back up to your lips. He gave you a passionate kiss allowing you to taste yourself on his tongue. Ashton rested his forehead against yours and traced his fingertips across your skin. “You okay?” he whispered, sending tiny pecks to your shoulder. You hummed in response and gave him a lazy smile. You had missed having Ashton between your legs. You turned in your spot until you were facing Ashton. He gave you a smile and you kissed him softly before sliding your hand back into his basketball shorts. The head of his cock leaked with precum and you swiped your thumb over the tip. Ashton’s eyes closed at the feeling and his hip instinctively bucked at your touch. The kiss grew even more and you pulled down his shorts. Ashton kicked them off and you continued to stroke his cock. Your arousal grew and you pushed Ashton onto his back so that you could straddle him.

Your nails scratched down Ashton’s chest as you sat on his cock. His chest heaved up and down and you began to rock your hips. You were teasing the both of you. Your clit throbbing as it continued to slide across his cock. Ashton’s hand flew up to grab your hips and he halted your movements. He swallowed hard and you smirked at him. “It’s not fun when you’re the one being teased huh?” you said. Ashton glared at your words before pinching at your hip. 

“Stop teasing,” he said in a raspy voice. You grinned at his words and leaned down to give him another kiss. This time your hips rose and you grabbed his cock and ran his tip between your folds for a few seconds before sinking down on him. You both simultaneously moaned and your face fell into the crook of his neck. Your eyes squeezed shut as you tried to focus. It had been months since Ashton had last filled you up and your body molded into his perfectly. You missed this feeling. Once you had caught your breath you lifted up and looked down at Ashton. His teeth was sunk into his bottom lip as he stared at you in awe. You slowly lifted up until the head of his cock was the only thing inside of you and then you slid back down, starting a slow and steady pace. Ashton let out a throaty moan and began to move his hips up to match your speed. You began to roll your hips down in figure eights and the pace picked up. You rocked your hips against his and let out tiny moans. Ashton’s hand reached down to rub at your clit making your body shake above his. Your hands rested on the headboard and you began to really ride him. Tiny jolts of pleasure coursing through you. Ashton decided he wanted to control control the pace and his hands gripped at your hips. He took control and began to pound up into you. Your head fell back and you let out loud moans with you slightly distracted bythe pleasure, Ashton took the opportunity to flip you over onto your side. A small yelp left your lips at his actions and your leg draped over his hip. You giggled in surprise and he continued to thrust into you. Ashton was close and you had already came once, so getting him to his release was what drove you on. The pleasure was sending you into overdrive as Ashton tried to get you to another release. Ashton gave you a particularly sharp thrust and the head of his cock hit at your g-spot. Ashton pulled you closer and his lips landed on yours. He nibbled at your bottom lip and your tongues clashed together. The kiss broke and Ashton slowed down his pace to make you feel every inch of his cock. “I love you,” he whispered, feeling you start to clench around his length.

You had reached out to caress his cheek and your eyes rolled back into their sockets. “I love you too,” you cried out, breath fanning over Ashton’s skin. Your clenching became unbearable and Ashton grunted loudly as he came. You gasped at the feeling and your head fell back against the pillows. You both lazily grinned at each other and Ashton pulled out of you. You laid on your back and stared up at the ceiling in shock. Sleeping with Ashton was never your plan nor was him showing up at your doorstep. “I’m gonna go pee,” you sighed after a moment, peeling yourself from Ashton’s embrace and making your way to the bathroom. You flicked on the light and shuffled to the toilet, raising the lid of the toilet and sitting down to pee. You stared at the tile walls of the shower for a few seconds and then began to cry. You were a bit sad, but more in shock. With everything that had gone on you couldn’t believe you had caved. Ashton was still your husband so it wasn’t all bad, but you had still filed for divorce. Or at least tried to file since Ashton refused to sign the papers. Your head was spinning and you needed more sleep feeling exhausted now. You found your way back to bed, curling up besides an already sleeping Ashton and headed back to bed yourself. 

     The smell of bacon wafted into your room making you stir in your sleep. You turned over in your bed feeling the weight of it being much lighter than before. Your face nuzzled more into your pillow and you wanted to get more rest, but the smell of food was much more appealing than sleeping. Your body felt slightly heavy as you slid out of bed and you searched your floor for your shirt that Ashton had pulled off of you. Mouth opening to let out a yawn as you made your way out your room. The smell grew even more prominent as you came close to the kitchen. You stopped at the entrance to the kitchen, standing like a lost puppy at the sight of Ashton, and rubbing at your eyes. For a moment the events of the early morning had left your mind, but seeing Ashton brought them back. He was standing in front of your stove stirring something in a pot and flipping the bacon at the same time. Ashton had his back facing towards you and you were hit with a sudden feeling of comfort. He had often made breakfast when the two of you woke up from a long night. You could distinctly remember Ashton cooking you sausage and pancakes with strawberries on top. Fresh squeezed orange juice rested at the center of the table and a plate set up in waiting for the food to lay on it. Things were much simpler back then.

You had cleared your throat, catching Ashton’s attention by the sound. He looked worse than earlier. Hazel eyes less dilated than before, but still a tinge of red could be seen on his eyeballs. His facial hair looked as if it had grown even more and from the small crease in his forehead you knew Ashton was hungover. There were tiny bruises scattering his skin from the love bites you had given him. “I hope I didn’t wake you,” he said, giving you a sheepish smile. Ashton turned off one of the burners on the stove and placed the freshly cooked bacon on a plate. “Got hungry and I didn’t want to just cook for myself,” he said, voice coming out timidly. You nodded at his words and found yourself walking more into the kitchen to sit down at the table. Ashton wasn’t showing any sign of remembering what had happened. Though the goofey smile on his face showed that he remembered the two of you having sex. In fact he didn’t even seem surprised that he had woken up naked in bed next to you. Your eyes glanced towards the clock and you realized you had slept through the whole morning.

“Waffles and oatmeal?” you questioned, looking up at him with raised eyebrows when he began to pour the oatmeal into a bowl for you. Ashton looked down at the display of food and you could see a hint of a pink blush against his cheeks. 

“I wasn’t sure what you were hungry for so I made both,” he said, placing the hot pot back on the stove before taking a seat across from you. Ashton picked up a bowl of blueberries and he held it out for you to grab some. You grabbed a spoon and scooped up some of the fruit and placed it in your oatmeal. 

“Thanks.” The two of you ate in silence, avoiding each other’s gazes. It almost felt like old times again and for some reason you wanted to relish in it. Live as if nothing wrong had ever happened and that you two weren’t separated. The sound of forks scraping against plates and the sips of coffee was the only sound present in your home. You were surprised to see Ashton drinking something other than alcohol, but you weren’t going to voice your surprise out loud. Right now you wanted to avoid the drama. Alas the quiet moment ended all too soon by Ashton breaking the silence. 

“Y/N,” he whispered making your fork pause halfway towards your mouth and your gaze land on him. 

“Hm?” you mumbled, taking a bite out of the waffle and chewing slowly. Ashton rubbed at his facial hair and he looked down at his plate of food before meeting your gaze.

“I-um. I vaguely remember what occurred last night,” he said, “It’s showing up in my mind like jigsaw puzzles that I have to put together.” You could see his eyes cloud over in sadness, “One thing I do remember is making you cry,” he whispered. The image of your tears was clear as day in Ashton’s mind and it caused him pain to know that he was the reason for your tears. It was never his intention to hurt you. That was the last thing he wanted to do, but it happened more times than he could count and Ashton hated himself for that. You had stopped eating at his words and dropped your gaze. “I want to change for you, so I’ll do it-I’ll go to rehab and get sober for you,” he said. Ashton reached out to grab your hand and for some reason you didn’t pull away. “If I do this promise me that we’ll work it out? That you’ll stop wanting to divorce because I need you right here with me at all times. I won’t let go of you.” He looked at you hopefully and you chewed on your bottom lip as his words washed over you.

“The drinking stops and you’ll take some anger management classes?” you questioned, earning an eager nod from him. 

“I meant what I said last night. I still love you,” he repeated. You smiled at his words and then nodded.

“You get sober and I promise you we’ll work it out. No divorce,” you agreed, squeezing his hand in reassurance. Ashton grinned and the sides of his eyes crinkled in happiness. You had agreed which was all the motivation Ashton needed. He was going to change for the better and fix your marriage.

Daddy's Girl

Description: The Winchester’s little sister handles the grief of her dead father, and hopes to keep his perfect image of herself intact.

Sam and Dean x sister!reader, mentions of John Winchester

Warnings: None that I can remember, except some fighting?

A/N: This was not the one I was planning on writing and posting but here it is! I hope you all like it, and thank you so much for your support! Let me know if you would like to request something, or you would like to be added to the tags! 😊

Tags: @winchesters-favorite-girl @percussiongirl2017


       You were pulling yourself from the ground. The fist of a girl a grade above you had slammed into your shoulder, and the prying hands of her groupies had shoved you to the ground. You stood up with a slight stagger, and shook your limbs to knock your instincts to tear her throat out off. She smiled devilishly at you, and you could hear your Dad’s voice in your head. Y/N be brave for me, and remember you are the thing that holds those two boys together.

The crowd around you was watching, and hanging on to every quiver your bruised limbs made. That’s when your hands shook, and you could hear their laughter as loud as the ringing in your ears. You saw his face, his eyes, his smile. He was gone now, and you were alone. He wouldn’t come driving up in his impala, he wouldn’t come save you from this, or help clean you up. You were not going to let him down though, you would continue to hold everything together. You would stay strong, and keep your brother’s heads above the bloody water. You would not create chaos or pain. You were going to continue to be the good girl, and push your emotions down. You were going to be strong without your father. You went to pick up your bag.

          “What’s the matter Winchester? Do you feel a little scared, want to run home to Daddy, you little-,” you suddenly looked up to face her.

Her preciously lined lips, with her plastic shaped nose, and perfectly placed hair. You couldn’t hear anything else except that one word. Daddy. Anger lined your skin with a new found red that wasn’t the shade of bruised. You charged at her, and brought her straight to the ground. You jammed your fist into her gut, and whipped the knife out of your boot. You popped the blade up into sight as you finally regained your senses. She was screaming, and someone was pulling you off her.

You quickly pushed the others off, and grabbed your bag. You ran off the school steps, and looked back. Teachers and supervisors were calling after you. Your body hurt from the beating you had taken, and tears stung your eyes. You stopped when you were little ways down the road. You slid the knife back into your boot, and placed your bag on your shoulders. You winced once the strap touched where she had thrown her fist. You took a breath, trying to calm your beating hard. The memory helped intensify the panic however, and you continued to walk down the road.

You replayed the images of the scene in your head. You had desperately tried to make friends, and get good grades. You were supposed to make your brothers happy and they seemed happy when you had those aspects of school in your life; after all, your life mission was to please your family. Your Dad had always said you were their care taker, and the glue that held them together. After he had passed, you tried harder than ever to please your brothers. You were the only one who hadn’t talked about your father’s death, whether that be to keep him alive in your mind, or to show how strong you were to your older brothers was unknown. You were supposed to be good, and you were supposed to be brave, like your father had said. You had failed today, and you let the rage of pain and anger flow through you and control your actions.

You were trying to dry your eyes as you entered the motel room. Your brothers were out, interview day was today. They were on a pretty tough case, and you three would be held up in this town for a few weeks. You went straight to the bathroom, looking at your bruised body. You slowly removed the clothes surrounding your bruises, and rinsed the blood off some of the scrapes. You were crying again, making the scar around your eye even more red. You slowly put on your clothes after bandaging up your injuries. You were in a lot of pain, and your eyes just wanted to close in exhaustion from the emotions and events of the day. You continued though, your father’s words echoing in your head. You had to be strong for Sam and Dean, and you had to hide what had happened. You emerged from the bathroom, and sat at the table. You pulled out your books, and papers.

You were trying to focus, but you had no strength to control the thoughts running through your head. You couldn’t go back to that school tomorrow. You couldn’t even face the outside world, and barely the one face you saw in the mirror. You had a handle on your tears, and continued to push through and finish your math problems. You were in the middle of an essay when your brothers walked through the door.

“Hey bunny,” Sam smiled.

 Dean dropped a bag next to your pile of books. You kept your face away from the light, and their vision lines. You continued writing, with the intention of greeting them but no words would form on your tongue. You heard your Dad’s voice in Sam’s, and Dean’s hand reminded you of your Dad’s hand. The brothers curiously tried to look at your face, but you just looked in the downward direction even more.

 “Y/N, look at me,” Dean said, starring at you from the other side of the table.

You quickly tried to make an escape to the bathroom but Sam stepped in front of you, and grabbed your face. His eyes widened, and you felt his body tense. Dean came around, and instant anger flashed into his green eyes.

“Who did this to you?” he demanded.

You shook your head and pushed Sam’s hands away. You had no ability to create sentences. Your Dad flashed into your mind.

“Y/N, what happened?” Sam asked, slightly demanding.

 You wished your dad were there, able to hold you, and help you regain the stick you needed to hold everything together. You looked back at your brothers, who’s faces held so much of your father. You started crying, and felt the sobs shake you inside and out. You were letting go. The grip you had on all the pain and grief of your father’s death suddenly escaping through the two little slits in your eyes.

 “I, I,” you started. The two brothers were suddenly shocked at this new emotion. “I miss Dad,” you cried out.

 Sam had tears in his eyes, as Dean starred at you in a helpless gaze. They both wrapped their bodies around yours. You were between them, and the warmth of their concern was making the tears come more rapidly. You weren’t supposed to be crying.

————————————————————————————————-

               You were sitting on Sam’s lap as Dean knelt beside you. Your sobs had slowed and your eyes only watered now. The tears had made the cut around your eye painful, but in a cleansing way.

 “Little girl, you’re gonna be fine. Me and Sammy, we aren’t going anywhere, and Dad will always be looking out for you,” Dean stroked your cheek.

You closed your eyes and snuggled into Sam a little more. “You’re okay Y/N/N,” Sam cooed.

“Sammy, De?” you called out.

“Yeah baby?” Sam asked.

 “I’m so sorry,” you wiped your eyes, forgetting about the cut, and hissing.

“No, darlin’ we’re sorry,” Dean responded, getting up to get things to tend your cut.

“But I-,” you started.

 “No buts, baby you are so strong, and you never ever break. You’re allowed to snap sometimes. You’re allowed to have emotions and to feel sad. You’re allowed to miss Dad,” Sam said, stroking your hair. You nodded.

“Even though you have some nasty scars, I would say you won against those girls,” Dean smiled.

 Sam’s eyes went wide, “Dean she almost sliced a girl with a weapon she wasn’t even supposed to have!”.

Dean looked to you, as you shrunk a little. “Eh, you were always a Daddy’s girl, and he would’ve done the same,” he smiled.

Sweetest Thing

Pairing: Finn Balor (Fergal Devitt) x Reader 

A/N; If Finn Balor told me he wanted to punch me in the face, I would ask if he wanted to hit my left cheek or right

Summary: Finn Balor thinks you are just the sweetest thing. So much so that all he wants to do is drag you through a crowded room with his arm around your waist and a shit eating grin that tells everyone that you are only his to stare at. 

***********************************************************

“Ouch! Seriously Y/N, I’m not a damn voodoo doll”. 

“Piss off Lexi, you wiggle too much. Not my fault”, you grumble out with a mouth full of pins and a roll of your eyes. 

Alexa lowers her eyes and frowns as she watches you kneel in front of her, trying your best to hem the shit out of the gown that was obviously too long for her tiny stature. Between the two of you, it was no secret that Alexa Bliss was the hardest to dress for formal WWE events, but at the end of the day, as the stylist to the superstars, you had always found a way to make her shine. With that in mind, she should have been more appreciative about your grueling attempt to make the gown for this particular charity event fit. 

Everyone was going to be there tonight. It was a gala for one of the many charities the WWE sponsored which meant the most notable stars from both NXT and WWE needed to make an appearance. Now, as the head of the clothing and costume department, that meant that you and your team were in charge of making everyone dress like royalty. Particularly for you, that meant fitting and styling the best of the best. 

Keep reading

Affection

For @analogicalityhell I hope you like it.

Tag list: @planetahmane @wingedchickadee @netzoflix 
@iaminmultiplefandoms  @loonierlovegood @aaliyahadams1738 @doggo-fiends-on-a-spaceship @snickerz171 @the-laarmy @orhaven02 @aperfectcontradiction @tickleesdream @1dcrazy14  @onemorebookidontneed @justphantasia @zoeyheys @liberalautisticnerd831 @lamsforlams @alzac-saber @the-sanders-sides @fugitive-angel @starrykid @thebaagelboy @xix-leiloves-xix @reallysaltypotato @justanotherpurplebutterfly @gottajett03 @andy-the-anon @virgils-old-sweater @satisfied-sanders-sides @analogically-prinxiety

They were sitting on a couch watching a movie when it happened. Virgil felt Logan’s hand hesitantly brush against his, his fingers slowly moving to cover Virgil’s.

Not really sure of what to do, but also worried that he would say the wrong thing, Virgil tilted his head to look at Logan, hoping that his confusion was clear in his expression.

Logan flushed slightly.

“I, I just thought,” he began stiffly, “That since we’ve admitted to romantic interest in each other, we could perhaps engage in signs of affection. Hand-holding being one such example.”

Virgil blinked, not really sure how to respond. Honestly, it was still hard to believe he and Logan were actually dating, especially given how much of a mess it was when they got together. He looked down at their hands, where Logan’s fingers were tentatively covering his. It, it wasn’t bad. It was actually kind of nice.

“Yeah, okay,” he muttered ducking his head to hide the red rising on his cheeks.

Logan gave him a small smile, and his fingers tightened briefly before he turned back to the move. Virgil couldn’t do the same though, still looking at Logan out of the corner of his eye.

He’d never held hands before. He’d never really done physical affection before. Part of him was terrified that he’d mess it up. But on the other hand, Logan seemed almost as nervous as him. Maybe they could learn together.


The very next day, Virgil yawned as he walked into the kitchen, planning on grabbing some breakfast. Well, lunch really. He’d ended up staying pretty late, so he’d slept through most of the morning.

When he walked into the kitchen, he was greeted by Logan and Roman.

“I see Sleeping Beauty has arisen,” Roman teased from where he was leaning against the counter. “And here I thought you wouldn’t wake till dinner.”

“Shut up,” Virgil said grumpily, making his way to coffee pot, pulling out a mug from the cabinet.

“I see someone is a little more briar than rose today,” Roman laughed.

Virgil didn’t dignify that with an answer, focusing only on filling his mug as fast as possible. Once it was full and he has taken a few sips, he shuffled closer to Logan who was standing in front of the stove cooking quesadillas.

Logan looked up at him.

“Hello,” he said softly. And then looking at little bit nervous, he- held out his arm?

Virgil wasn’t sure what he was doing, so he just stared in confusion. It was only when Logan began to pull his arm back towards himself with a look of quiet disappointment that Virgil’s half-awake brain realized what he had been asking.

Internally berating himself for being an idiot, Virgil quickly stepped forward, ducking under Logan’s arm to lean ever so slightly into the embrace. He held his breath, glancing up at Logan to see if he’d gotten it right. He still felt a bit tense.

But Logan didn’t say anything, only turning back to the stovetop. Studying his expression though, Virgil decided he did look pleased.

The longer he stood there, Virgil could feel his exhaustion creeping in again and as his eyelids grew heavier, he let himself leaning more and more against Logan.

Eventually Logan spoke up.

“You know if you’re going to fall asleep standing up,” he said, “You probably shouldn’t do it in front of an open flame.

Virgil just grumbled in reply, too warm and content to move, too tired to be coherent.

Logan sighed, but it was a fond sound.

“You should really go sit at the table,” he said, his arm lifting off of Virgil’s shoulders to give him a small nudge towards the table. “The food’s ready, and you do require sustenance.”

Virgil let himself be directed, slinking towards the table and plopping himself down on the nearest chair.

He adjusted his jacket absently, pulling it more tightly around him. He could have sworn the kitchen hadn’t been this cold when he’d come in. He dismissed the thought though, choosing instead to focus on the plate Logan was setting in front of him.


A week later, Virgil was pacing in front of Logan’s room. He didn’t really want to barge in and annoy the other. But Logan had been his room all day, and Virgil was worried about him. He’d seemed super stressed out about work yesterday, and well, Virgil knew better than anyone what it felt like to be overwhelmed.

Making up his mind, Virgil took a deep breath and slipped into the room. He could see Logan in the corner hunched over his desk, which had papers scattered all over it.

“Hey,” he said cautiously, creeping closer. “You okay?”

“Virgil,” Logan said curtly, “Salutations. And yes, fine, I’m fine. I’m just- well, I’m just busy.”

Virgil was now standing right next to Logan, running a critical eye over him. His boyfriend looked exhausted. He was paler than normal, his hair was mess as though he’d been running his hands through it, and his shoulders were hiked up around his ears.

Virgil wasn’t sure how to help. If there was only some way he could get Logan to relax. That was when the idea came to him.

He hesitated, staring at Logan uncertainly. It might help, but he was nervous. Although he and Logan had gotten more affectionate recently, Logan had always been the one to initiate the contact. Would he be okay of Virgil tried to? What if he made things worse?

After another moment of dithering, Virgil looked at Logan’s face again. He had it cradled in his right hand, as he slumped on the desk, far from the perfect posture Virgil was used to seeing. With that, Virgil’s mind was made up.

He slipped behind Logan and slowly, shaking a little bit, he let his hands come up to rest on Logan’s shoulders.

He could Logan shift a little at the contact, but before the other had time to ask him what he was doing, Virgil dug his thumbs into the knots of muscles next to Logan’s neck.

There was a pause, in which Virgil desperately hoped he hadn’t miscalculated, but then Logan leaned into the touch, a soft groan of contentment passing though his lips.

Emboldened by the noise, Virgil resumed his massage. After about fifteen minutes, he’d gotten the worst of the knots out, but he didn’t move just yet, letting his hands still rest on top of Logan.

“Thank you” Logan murmured, one hand reaching up to cover Virgil’s. “That was wonderful.

Feeling his face heat up, and glad Logan couldn’t see him, Virgil tried not to squirm.

“I’m just glad I could help,” he finally said.


Virgil stormed into his room, swiping at his eyes in frustration. Why did things never go right for him? He sat down on his bed, trying hard not to cry. Today had been the worst.

First he’d slept through his alarm, and then he spilled orange juice on his hoodie, and then he’d found out he’d lost one of his notebooks, and on and on and on. It had just been a string of incidents, one after another, and he hadn’t gotten a break!

Virgil tried to take in a deep breath, but his chest felt far to tight, and his vision was beginning to blur. He pressed his lips together tightly trying to stop himself from letting out a sob. Then there was a knock on the door.

“Virgil?” Logan called out. “May I enter?”

Virgil cleared his throat, trying to make his voice sound normal, and quickly wiped his eyes hoping they weren’t too red.

“Yeah,” he called out before wincing. His voice sounded raw.

The door creaked open, and Logan stepped inside. As soon as his eyes landed on Virgil, his face filled with concern.

“Are you alright?” he asked coming and sitting beside Virgil on the bed.

Virgil looked down at his lap.

“Yeah,” he muttered, “I’m fine. It’s stupid really. It was just a lot of stupid little things, and just a really shitty day, and I just couldn’t catch a freaking break”

Much to his shame, he felt his voice crack and tears began to threaten again. He let out a long shaky breath, trying to gain back some measure of control.

“Virgil” Logan spoke up. “I don’t want to impose, and you are well within your rights to say no, but I was just wondering something. Would it be alright if I hugged you.”

Not even bothering to give a verbal answer, Virgil just turned and pressed his head against Logan’s shoulder, shaking with the effort of keeping his sobs from breaking though.

But as Logan’s arms came up to wrap around him, he lost the battle completely, and the tears began to soak Logan’s shirt.

When he finished crying, he shuddered again, and pulled back a little, although still not leaving the circle of Logan’s arms.

“Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to freak out on you.”

“It’s fine,” Logan said, shaking his head. “I’m just glad I could help, I was worried I would make the situation worse, that you would be uncomfortable with physical affection right now.”

“You always help,” Virgil said. “And, um, well, I liked the hug, really. It felt nice.”

After that last part he had to look away for a moment in embarrassment. But when he glanced back at Logan, he could tell the other felt equally flushed, small spots of red having risen on his cheeks.

As he sat there staring up at Logan’s face, his arms still carefully draped around him, Virgil’s mouth opened without his permission.

“Can I kiss you?” he blurted out, his cheeks going straight to scarlet when he realized what he had just asked. But before he could bury his head in shame, Logan replied.

“Always,” he said, ducking his head to press his lips to Virgil’s.

Leaning into the kiss, Virgil let himself get wrapped up in it, the warmth, the softness. This was perfect.

As they broke apart, he couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his lips.

“That was, that was nice” he said, his brain to blissed out to think of a better word.

“Indeed,” Logan said, sounding a little dazed. “That was a most enjoyable form of physical affection. Perhaps we would engage in it more often?”

Virgil laughed.

“Just shut up and kiss me, you dork” he said, pulling Logan closer once more.

Reddie Soulmate Au

Little description: When you’re born, a stripe the colour of your soulmates hair shows up on your wrist. One day, Richie decides that he needs to dye his hair.

Eddie and Richie are sitting next to each other on Richie’s bed, staring at each other’s soulmate stripes. Eddie was sleeping over that night and they weren’t quite sure what to talk about. Richie suddenly speaks, “Who do you think your soulmate is, Eds?” Eddie rolls his eyes at the nickname, then takes a second to think, “there’s this girl named Ana in my class with dark hair. Maybe it’s her,” he shrugs and waits for Richie to make some sarcastic comment, instead, Richie bursts into laughter, making Eddie’s face red, “why are you laughing?” He asks, furrowing his eyebrows.

Richie takes a second to compose himself before saying, “do you mean Anastasia? The girl who wears all black and listens to metal music,” Eddie nodded, embarrassed, “I don’t know… I think she has a nice charm to her,” Richie nods, an obnoxious grin on his face, “well, sure, but you know what else she has?” Eddie raises an eyebrow as Richie continues, “a girlfriend.” Eddie’s eyes widen, “oh!” Richie bursts into laughter again, and Eddie let’s himself giggle too.

After a minute of them just laughing, Eddie clears his throat, “who do you think your soulmate is?” Richie’s face goes serious, he looks at Eddie, putting on an exaggerated thinking face, before leaning up to his ear and whispering, “it’s a secret. Do you really want to know?” Eddie nods quickly, as Richie leans back so their faces are inches apart, Eddie can feel Richie’s breath on his face and it makes him shiver. Richie leans back to Eddie’s ear and whispers “I’m going to tell you now,” Eddie prepares himself to hear it and Richie takes a deep breath, “YOUR MOM” he bellows in Eddie’s ear. Eddie shoves Richie right off the bed, wide eyed. Richie stays on the floor, howling with laughter.

Although, as Richie was recovered from his laughing fit, he couldn’t help but think about how much he wanted Eddie to be his soulmate. His heart clenched in his chest and it hurt to know that Eddie could never love him. It was impossible for Richie to be his soulmate. Richie was sure of it. Eddie would never even think about being with him. Not ever. Richie was unlovable.

The next day, Richie wakes up first, he usually woke up first when Eddie slept over, it was nice to see Eddie so peaceful, the one time that he wasn’t worrying so much. It brought a small smile to Richie’s face. He subconsciously moved Eddie’s hair out of his eyes, but immediately regretted it as Eddie’s eyes fluttered open, “morning, Richie,” he croaked and Richie’s heart melted, “morning Eds.” Eddie let the nickname slide, as he had just woken up and it made Richie smile.

When they finally got up, they tip-toed downstairs to find food in Richie’s kitchen. Richie reached his hand into an old box of off-brand frosted flakes. Eddie scrunched up his face in disgust as Richie stuffed his face with the cereal, “how old is that?” Richie shrugged, some of the cereal falling out of his mouth and onto the floor. He chewed a bit more and swallowed the cereal, holding out the box to Eddie and raising his eyebrows, Eddie just shook his head.

The rest of the day was spent riding around on their bikes and cracking jokes. They bumped into some of their friends a couple times, Ben and Beverly were on a date. It was pretty easy for them to know they were soulmates as Beverly’s hair wasn’t exactly the most common colour. They bumped into Bill and Georgie as well. The two were getting ice cream at a local store.

Eventually, the day came to an end and Richie biked Eddie home. Richie got off his bike to walk Eddie to his door, “tell your mom I say I really enjoyed spending the night with her last week,” he winked suggestively and Eddie rolled his eyes, “shut up.” Richie just smirked and waved, backing away from Eddie to his own bike, “I’ll see you tomorrow, Eds!” And as Richie biked away, he heard a yell, “don’t call me Eds!” It brought a smile to his face.

Richie indeed did see Eddie tomorrow. Most of the school week went by pretty normally. They got harassed by Henry and his gang a couple times, but it was nothing that they couldn’t handle. All their friends hung out and laughed together. It was an ordinary, nice week. Until Friday, that is.

Thursday night, Eddie’s soulmate stripe turned pink. Eddie was panicking, wondering if maybe his stripe was broken, or maybe he was sick, or worse, that his soulmate was the kind of person to dye her hair bright pink. He went to sleep that night, his kind racing with all kinds of thoughts.

Eddie woke up the next morning having slept, but feeling exhausted. He trudged out of bed and make his way to school. He made his way to his first class and sat down, putting his bag beside him and leaning back in his chair.

Class started and Eddie began to worry. Richie was usually late, but not this late. He could barely focus on his work as he thought about what could have happened to Richie today, but just as he considered the very worst, the classroom door swung open.

Richie stood in the doorway, his hair a bright shake of pink. Eddie’s breath caught in his throat, and against all his better judgment, he stood up and just stared at Richie, his mouth agape. Richie stepped into the classroom and grinned at Eddie, before realizing how shocked he looked. “Eds, are you okay?” He asked cautiously. Eddie didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know what to think. So he didn’t. He ran.

Eddie pushed past Richie in the doorway and just ran. As fast and as far as he could. Richie called his name and took off after him. Neither of them were sure where they were going, but Eddie knew that he could stop running, and Richie knew that he couldn’t stop chasing him.

Eventually, Eddie stopped running, his head was spinning as he sat himself down on a rock by the side of a river. He rested his elbows on his knees, breathing heavy, heaving breaths. He saw somebody sit beside him from the corner of his eye. He knew who it was. Eddie took out his inhaler to use as he caught his breath. Richie spoke, breathing heavily between words, “Eddie,” he took a deep, laboured breath, “what just happened?”

Eddie said nothing as he extended his arm to show Richie his wrist. He could hear Richie faintly gasp, but Eddie refused to turn to look at him. Eddie felt a tear streak down his cheek. It suddenly hit him that maybe all this time, he had liked Richie. Eddie’s head was spinning as he thought about all the lingering touches, all the soft smiles, the staring and the fact that Richie constantly occupied his brain. He had always passed it off as a “friend crush” but he knew it was something more now.

He heard Richie chuckle sadly, “do you really hate the idea of me being your soulmate that much,” Eddie opened his mouth to reply, but before he could, Richie continued, “I mean, I really don’t blame you. If I were you, I’d rather kill myself than have to be my soulmate.” Eddie felt another tear fall past his cheek, as he turned to look at Richie.

They were both crying now. Richie continued to speak, sobbing in between all his words, continuously wiping the tears from his eyes, “all I ever do is annoy people,” his voice is quiet, but the vulnerability in his eyes is so clear. His glasses sit on the rock beside him, “I’m always making dumb jokes and insulting you. I’m never serious. Even in the most serious moments. I always have to make a joke out of everything!” His voice is louder now, he’s desperately trying to get the words out now, almost screaming the sentences, “nobody likes me, not one person in our friend group actually likes having me around. They only keep me around because sometimes I’ll make a funny joke and-”

Richie stopped suddenly as Eddie leaned forward and kissed him, his eyes shut tightly. Richie’s eyes widened, but they fluttered shut a moment after. Neither of them were sure of what to do with their hands, so they remained at their sides. A moment later, (although it felt like a year to Richie) Eddie pulled away and sighed. He stared at Richie for a moment before smiling softly and uttering three, quiet words.

“Beep beep, Richie”

The Surprise

Fandom: Marvel
Pairing: Loki x reader
Words: 2641
Warnings: SMUT and fluff
A/N: So here it is, guys! I saw that a lot of you wanted a fic inspired by this gif, so I decided to write something. 
If it’s your birthday when you’re reading this, have a very happy birthday! 
Please forgive all the grammar/spelling mistakes I’ve made. 
Hope you enjoy!

Tagging: @tearstainedashes , @pastapizzacheesedragon , @madman-with-a-snogbox , @fn-xo , @itsfangirlharu 



You were reading your favorite book while lying in the sweet embrace of your boyfriend, the God of Mischief, Loki.

Too caught in the story of the book you ignored Loki’s words. That was until he shook you gently and looked down at you.

“Just because that book is more interesting than me holding you in my arms, doesn’t mean that you should ignore me, love” he chuckled and you smiled back at him after you put the book down and turned around so you can look at him.

“Did you say something… I’m sorry, I did not hear you” you apologized and kissed the corner of his lips, softly.

“Yes. Just a reminder that your birthday is in two days, so I wanted to know if there is anything you want for your special day?” he asked while caressing your cheeks.

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Not my Jacket Part 4 - S.P

Originally posted by howtoamuseacoolperson

Masterlist

Part I , Part II , Part III , Part IV , Part V

taglist;  @allison-rosewood-maximoff , @whenaprincessisahero , @sweetpeas-serpant , @babygirlscali , @randomnesss-of-fandomness , @coffeeaddict201 , @jxhn-mxrphy , @maceyisntcool , @and-i-swear-we-are-infinte , @tacozxd , @lifeisforlosers , @cinn-rawr , @betty-dale, @imthewinchestertoyourimpala , @writersandroses , @kytty27 , @lilithmouse , @poolpartyingwithjaws , @savy-girl , @moonkvd , @svenjafangirlt , @mariechristine91 , @igivethefeels , @luckyfriess , @deethelionprince , @itszehraa , @penisprkr , @lucystivinsky1315 , @isak-lovelies , @megbaldy , @superoptimist1997 , @mypotronus , @fckingnostalgia , @becca-in-the-tardis , @iwriteforyall , @lucystivinsky1315 , @no-heroes-are-coming , @annoyingsibling

~

“Haven’t you heard? While they try to fix riverdale, all the northsiders are going here”

“what?!” Sweet pea was enraged.

Jocks looked at him, rolling their eyes.

The bell rang, signalling you had to go to class. You gave sweet pea a quick kiss before running off to your class; English.

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Hiraeth - Part Two

Originally posted by mimibtsghost

☽Pairing☾ ; BTS | Reader

☽Genre☾ ; Angst | Fluff

☽Word Count☾ ; 2.4k

☽Summary☾ Returning back to Korea after years of being under the ground, to see your parents. You wished it was all it took, to feel complete again. The aftermath of confusion, betrayal and sorrow was the reason to never come back into the boys presents. But it wasn’t until, seeing one them enter the same cafe, at the right time.

☽Notes☾ ;  Part One | Part Three 


“Misu, there aren’t any appointments for me today, so I will be leaving early"  

Your head spinning to find the familiar sound come closer, her black hair covering the dark circles underneath, while rummaging through her bag. The sound of keys and her heavy heels punishing the white marble floor. The woman in front, assumed to be Misu, was feeling baffled while trying to keep her concentration on you.  

“Miss, I think-”  

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Cookie Day (WinterIron Quick Fic)

This is just fluffy WinterIron. Just fluff. To make up for the tear fest that was “Moments” lol

Enjoy :)
***************

Bucky made….cookies.

Like really, really insanely good cookies. While humming, and listening to slow music as he took over the kitchen in the Tower. He even wore an apron most times.

And really, the team didn’t know what to do about it.

Mostly because even a year and a half after Steve brought him home, Bucky was still quiet more days than not. He still wore his hair long, his chin scruffy. He hardly ever smiled, hardly ever engaged with anyone. He was never in anything other than a long sleeve because he didn’t like the attention his arm inevitably drew, even though Steve had told him at least a hundred times that no one here ever noticed. He didn’t wake up screaming with nightmares anymore, but no one ever actually saw him sleep either so…

Anyway. Cookies.

Like, the best cookies in the world. Like thick and fluffy and packed with butter and chocolate and enough sugar to put an elephant down. And he absolutely refused to share.

In fact, no one was even allowed in the kitchen while he was baking. Clint had tried one time to scoop some cookie dough and Bucky had (accidentally) almost broken his hand.

So the team retreated, hovered outside the kitchen door and plotted ways to get to the cookies.

Steve had assured them that back in the day, Bucky had in fact been the best cook he had known, always making something in his mamas kitchen, and then cooking for Steve after his parents passed.

It didn’t matter what it was- thick, crusty bread, impossibly light pastries, and of course these amazing cookies— Bucky could make them no problem, and was happy to do every time Steve looked just the littlest bit hungry.

Of course Steve had been allergic to or at least sensitive to nearly everything back then, so little bites and nibbles was the best he could do. And now that he was a 100% healthy, super serum powered soldier who needed upwards of 4000 calories a day to keep his body running… well Steve was just as desperate as the rest of them to get his hands on some of Bucky’s cookies.

But alas, it wasn’t going to happen. Because Bucky only ever baked enough for himself, just enough to pile on a plate that he then hoarded on his lap during team movie nights, an entire gallon of milk sitting next to him because that’s how much milk it took to wash the cookies down.

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