#imma curl up and die now this prompt was so good

[mamamittens]

After a Crown for a Ring

This is the somewhat unhinged romcom order for myself based on my 'menu' for my Shake Date 500+follower event. Without the smut, I... I cannot write and post that and still come online ever again at this point in time (social anxiety for the win!), so ya'll just get the ridiculous build up.

That and I realized I had written over 2K just building up to smut. Why am I like this for this man???

So here.

Order: strawberry cake, gummy candy, sprinkles. Add in pink schnapps, jager bomb, white Russian, hot damn, and brain hemorrhage with a coffee and strawberry mochi.

Warnings: Yandere, technically kidnapping, and intended imprisonment until marriage agreement.

Thatch X Nikia (OC)

What can I say, he's a real romantic at heart.

word count: 2,490

The kingdom was burning.

Okay, so only some of the kingdom was burning. It was still a problem and there wasn’t much to be done at this point.

Nikia sighed, anxiously wringing her hands as she looked out over the balcony. She was trained for peacetime, not war. The weight of lives on her shoulders a distinctly uncomfortable one. So, she ordered her people to evacuate well before the enemy line made it to the capital city. Some stayed, too stubborn or loyal to go, but the rest fled quickly.

In theory, this is where her fiancé would shine. As a well decorated war general, this would have been his moment. He likely could have managed this whole mess swiftly and gotten a treaty signed. But he’d gone at the first sign of war to handle things and… he never came back.

Nikia shifted on her feet, wings fluttering behind her restlessly.

She liked Henrick well enough. Kind and deferential to her title without being a kiss ass. Older but not so old she worried he’d pass well before she ever would. They’d been arranged to marry next spring by her late parents but that clearly wasn’t going to happen now. And her envoys for peace went unheeded for reasons beyond her understanding. Spies, perhaps. Or perhaps just a lack of interest in peace. It was possible.

The rival kingdom was quite fond of conquering, so it was possible that this was inevitable.

And as queen she had to greet them.

There was a rattle of armor behind her as her personal guard, Minos, entered the room.

“Your majesty, they’ve made it to the pavilion.” She sighed, fussing with her skirts.

“Then I shall meet them in the entrance.” She declared, turning to walk swiftly through the halls, Minos glancing from under his helmet, hand on his blade.

“It’s not too late to run, your majesty.” He reminded her softly. She paused before the stairs, smiling softly.

“And go where? I can hardly pass as an unfortunate peasant.” Nikia sighed, extending her wings. It was something all royal family members had and became incredibly symbolic over the years, much to her frustration. “Besides, I have to try for peace one last time before the entire kingdom is razed. You heard what happened to Marineford.” She moved on, not looking at the portraits of her ancestors along the walls and artwork gifted to her family over the years. Marineford had, somehow, gotten hold of a prince and tried to execute him. It did not end well.

“Well, you haven’t acted against them before. And neither did your family! Perhaps this is just a show of force?” He asked, lengthening his stride to keep up.

“Well, they’ve certainly shown it!” Nikia grumbled. “The staff are safe?”

“No one wanted to leave.” He informed her.

Nikia stopped at the bottom of the stairs and sighed.

Perhaps she shouldn’t have spent her youth running around the kitchens.

She looked out across the hall where guards stood at the ready. Men she knew. Had watched train over the years in the courtyard. Personally knighting several when they’d become skilled enough to warrant the lofty title.

The sound of battle was faint but echoed over the empty hall. White marble draped in silk livery. The door was closed. But it wouldn’t be for long.

“Open the door and leave.” Nikia commanded clearly, though she knew only one part of her order would be followed. They hesitated, the two closest to the door looking back at her as she approached. Her dress trailing across the carpet. “We were never going to win this battle… so let’s get this over with.” Nikia stated, taking a sword from a kneeling servant. It was a mostly ceremonial blade, the one she had knighted several of those present with, in fact. Gemstones embedded in the blade and pommel, a flawless silver with golden leaves across the centerline. It could still cut, but was not meant to.

A bit ironic, really.

Pretty but useless.

The doors opened up, the sound of fighting pouring in as she saw the fight come to a screeching halt. All eyes on her as she tipped up her chin and walked to the top of the stairs.

She flared out her wings purposefully, letting them stretch out in the open air as she looked across the foreign soldiers. They seemed shocked. Perhaps they thought the ‘angelic royalty’ thing was a hoax. While she certainly wasn’t an angel, the imagery of her family line was no joke.

Now with their full attention she swallowed hard, gripping the sword.

“Congratulations. You’ve made a mess. Who am I meant to address?” She asked clearly, her voice ringing out.

A man stepped forward with a wide grin, wearing remarkably light armor and two blades in his hands. Amber red hair pulled back out of his face with a black goatee.

“That would be me, your majesty. Prince Thatch, captain of the eleventh division.” He dipped his head in deference but his eyes remained bold and amused.

“Well, since your kingdom insisted on dramatics—here!” Nikia called out, tossing the priceless blade down the stairs to his feet where it clattered with a chiming ring. He looked startled. “What? Did you expect me to fight you? What good would that do with an army still left behind? I’ve sent envoys for peace many times. We are not a country built for war, as you may have noticed while razing the countryside.” Nikia chided while walking towards him.

“Just like that?” Annoyance seeped into her.

“That desperate for a fight, are you? What, nothing to do back home, Prince Thatch?” Nikia hissed, flinging out her arms. “Besides, it would be a poor match. My weapon of choice is a bow.”

Though she had been tempted to shoot him from the sky.

He grinned, relaxing his stance and sheathing his blades as she approached closer.

“I think I would have liked to see that.” He mused, looking over her.

Her crown still in place over her curls, dark blue hair cut around her chin and braids of soft teal over her shoulders. Her dress trimmed close to her chest in silver silk lined with blue, trailing down her arms in wide sleeves. It wasn’t her most extravagant dress. But it was one she could run in, if need be.

“Too bad… so what now? Will you charge through my castle still or execute me first?” She asked, looking up at him. His expression softened.

“Now, why would I be so wasteful?” He asked, delicately picking up a thin braid and bringing it to his lips with a smile.

Nikia… wasn’t sure what to do with that. If they wanted peace, there were easier ways before this point. Hell, after the first battle where her fiancé was slain, marriage was suddenly a very easy and open option if they wanted.

“…Because you clearly didn’t want to sign a treaty?” She said in confusion. “And you clearly didn’t come here to talk.” She waved towards the still eerily quiet battlefield.

He laughed.

“Hah! I suppose that would be a little confusing on your part, wouldn’t it?” Thatch said before frowning thoughtfully. “I’m here for one thing. Where’s your king? Is he such a poor husband he makes his wife face an army to surrender?”

Nikia frowned.

“Uh…” Despite her many lessons, she couldn’t help the graceless sound that slipped from her lips. “… There isn’t one?”

Now Thatch looked confused.

“What?”

“What?” she parroted, shrugging her shoulders. “There isn’t one? There is no king? No consort either, before you ask… it’s just me? Who are you looking for—are you lost?!?” Nikia demanded, utterly baffled.

“You-You’re married.” Thatch said, looking down and grabbing her hand only to find it bare of any ring.

“No? I’m not?” Nikia insisted. “I mean, I would be… next spring. What the hell does it matter, why are you here?!”

“Fiancé then. Where is he.” Thatch looked around with narrowed eyes, like her fiancé would spring up from the shadows.

“Dead! In this stupid fucking war!” Nikia screeched, yanking back her hand. “What! Do you! Want here!”

“Then how are you queen?”

“Because my parents were king and queen?! And died—thanks for the reminder, ass.” Nikia hissed.

Thatch looked shocked before grinning.

“Oh.”

“Oh?” Nikia considered storming to her rooms and shooting him with a bow. She’d definitely be executed then but it would be worth it.

“Well, I’m here for you.” His tone shifted to something dark and she couldn’t help but shudder.

“Well… I’m right here? What do you want?!” Nikia stammered, taking a step back. Thatch grabbed her waist and pulled her in close, the familiar cries of alarm ringing behind her falling silent swiftly.

“My homeland makes allies in many ways. Usually treaties and exchanges. Sometimes even marriage.” Thatch informed her softly.

“That is… how most make allies, yes? Y-You’re freaking me out, what the fuck is your point?” Nikia questioned equally quiet.

“It’s seems there’s been a… misunderstanding. I’d been informed you were already married.” Thatch chimed in helpfully. “So, obviously, your husband had to go. And I couldn’t do that if we had a treaty.”

It took a moment. Nikia willing admitted it took a moment to understand what Thatch was saying.

Her face flushed.

“Y-You started a war to marry me?! No!” Nikia said, utterly horrified. “Absolutely not!”

“I gotta say, this is much easier!” Thatch chuckled, and in a move too fast to process, picked her up into his arms. Her wings flailed in alarm but it didn’t phase him in the slightest. “Fights over, boys!” There was a round of cheers and wolf whistles.

Apparently, it was only her side that was unaware of Thatch’s true intentions.

“Put our queen down!” Minos declared, drawing his blade. Thatch shifted his stance, still walking up the stairs with her on one arm, reaching for his own blade.

“No! You are not fighting this madman! Put me down, damnit!” Nikia screeched. A young man without a shirt clambered up the stairs and surprised her guard, the two engaging in a short fight before a column of fire erupted and left only one standing. And it was not her guard. Minos was, thankfully, still breathing.

The young man winked cheekily at her and Thatch before darting into the castle.

“No can do. Where’s your scribe, we need to square away the details.” Thatch commented breezily with a laugh. “Where are you going, Ace?!”

“I’m going to find the kitchen!” the young man declared over his shoulder.

“What details!?” Nikia asked, squirming to no avail.

“Our marriage, of course.”

“We are not getting married!” Thatch came to a halt at the top of the stairs, looking up at her smugly. Her guards were subdued on the ground, though thankfully not dead.

“Then I guess this is an armed occupation until we do. Where are your chambers?” He asked. Upon seeing her flustered but speechless, he looked towards a maid. “You there, miss? Would you kindly show me where the queen sleeps?”

“Why do you need to know that?!” Nikia hissed.

“I’m not locking my wife in the dungeons!” Thatch shot back, utterly offended.

“I am not your wife!”

The poor maid looked horrified and confused.

Thatch pouted at her.

“Then I suppose we’ll do it right here.” Thatch declared.

“Do what?” he grinned, reaching up to hook his fingers in the collar of her dress. Her eyes widened as her face grew hot. “No.”

“Yes.” He smirked and she couldn’t say for certain he was joking.

Nikia looked at the poor maid, utterly flustered herself.

“Show him.” The maid hurried, clearly understanding the innuendo before she had. “What the hell is wrong with you—we’ve never even met!—we haven’t met, have we?” She asked in horror as he effortless carried her up the stairs after the maid.

“No, but you have a lovely portrait.”

Okay, so he’s absolutely fucking mad.

“They’re paid to make me look good, what the hell is wrong with you?” Nikia asked, feeling a tad overwhelmed.

Her kingdom was invaded because a prince thought she was pretty?!

“Easiest money of that painter’s life. You’re already a work of art—thank you, you’re excused now.” Thatch said, stepping into her personal chambers as the maid nodded and fled.

He looked around in satisfaction and curiosity. Clearly eager to snoop around.

“Are you going to put me down, now?” Nikia asked blandly, feeling a tad resigned to the situation.

“You fit in my arms so well, though.” He pouted. “I suppose I should do it anyway.” Thatch sighed dramatically before setting her on her bed. He kneeled, looking up at her with a bright smile as she grimaced.

“…what now?” She asked softly.

Thatch reached up and pushed back her hair, settling his palm over her cheek.

“You agree to marry me.” Thatch smiled. “Until then, you don’t leave these rooms. Can’t have you running off. Or flying away for that matter.” Thatch looked at the balcony with a frown.

“You want to be king that badly?” Nikia asked. “You could always just oust me. It’s not that hard. Execution or banishment usually does the trick. Not that I want to die but… I just don’t get why you’re doing this.”

He hummed, looking back at her with a chastising expression.

“I don’t care about being king. Just your king.” He corrected her.

Nikia scowled.

“Then why do I need to agree to marriage? You’ve effectively conquered my kingdom already. I’d hardly be the first queen married without being asked. I didn’t even ask to marry Henrick. That was arranged.” She couldn’t help but point out. Upon his horrified look she rolled her eyes. “I’m queen, Thatch. My duty is to my people first. And for a secure kingdom, you must be married. I thought you were a prince and would know that.”

Thatch frowned, cupping her face in both hands as he rested his forehead against hers, staring deeply into her eyes.

“That’s not how it works where I’m from. I want you to want me. As much as I want you.” Thatch kissed her lips softly before standing up. “Even if it takes a little convincing. Get some rest. It’s been a long day, my queen.”

Thatch walked to the balcony doors and pressed his hand over them, mumbling a spell under his breath. Lights and symbols danced over the glass, forming a perfect circle over the handles. Locked now with magic. He grinned, pleased with his work, and headed to the door, bowing as he exited with a pleased smirk.

Familiar magic swirling over the wood as that, too, was locked. That wasn’t the only exit of course but, with her castle occupied, she could hardly escape regardless.

Just as trapped as she was this morning. Though infinitely more confused.

[hartigays]

Rafebarry Prompt for you! So what about some of Barry’s pals being over at the trailer and they’re all just like “Damn Bro” at seeing Rafe (who’s just living his best chaotic life, being Barry’s housewife/partner in crime) and Barry’s just all smug about it like “Yeah. I’m hittin’ that. Be jealous.”

tw: mature themes (drug use, sexual implications) and some homophobic language (just a comment from some loser tho)

rafe’s bike tears through swampy grass and dirt with a vengeance as he pulls into barry’s front yard, leaving tire marks in his wake.

when he pulls off his helmet, the first thing he sees are people spilling in and out of the trailer. people rafe doesn’t recognize - some of them attractive, even.

which is… infuriating, to put it lightly.

barry clearly hadn’t felt the need to keep rafe in the loop, inviting him over without informing him that half of the cut would be in attendance as well.

like, seriously, what the fuck? rafe had thought - well. he’d intended to come here to pick up some blow, and maybe, possibly, perhaps let barry have his way with him while he’s at it.

barry can’t have his way with him if half the population of north carolina is stacked up inside the trailer. and that’s just. frustrating.

rafe kind of wants to drive his bike straight through the trailer, mowing some partygoers down and end this whole shebang right here and now. but, as barry has made explicitly clear time and time again, rafe is Not Allowed to harm and/or kill people on his property.

it’s sometimes irritating, this whole thing they’ve started. this casual fling that’s maybe not-so-casual anymore considering rafe agreed to be exclusive with barry not even two days ago.

there are just. so many rules, like no maiming, or killing, or… actually, that’s about it. but that’s two rules too many. rafe doesn’t like rules, or being told what he can or can’t do.

barry is just lucky rafe likes him. kind of. sort of. somewhat.

otherwise, barry would be drifting along the bottom of the ocean somewhere, flesh being nibbled away at by fish and sharks and the like.

rafe flings his helmet towards his bike, not bothering to see if it landed anywhere convenient, before storming across the yard and shoving himself through a cluster of people to get inside the trailer.

barry is sitting on the couch, all sorts of people surrounding him, looking like he’s already fucked up beyond belief.

which is also annoying, because he was supposed to get fucked up beyond belief with rafe, then mandhandle rafe into bed to have his wicked way with him. like always.

“ayy, country club!” barry practically shouts over the noice, his accent even thicker and more drawn out than usual. “you made it!”

“yeah, barry, i made it,” rafe snaps, then sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose.

look, he’s not against parties or anything. actually, he’s quite in favor of them. he just… did not plan for his day to go like this.

rafe wanted barry’s full attention, which is now virtually impossible given the amount of bodies that are currently filling the room.

barry just looks at rafe with glazed eyes, leaning back casually against the couch cushions. “aw, don’t you go pouting on me ‘n shit, rafe cameron. ain’t you always down for a party or some shit like that?”

“a little heads up would’ve been nice,” rafe tells him, his temper rearing it’s ugly head again and bleeding into his voice. “look, can i just get my shit so i can get out of here?”

rafe moves around the coffee table, elbowing a few drunk idiots out of his way as he does. barry eyes him as he comes closer, before suddenly swinging one arm out and wrapping it around rafe’s waist. he ropes rafe in close enough that rafe stumbles a bit over barry’s feet, sprawling right into his lap.

“see, ain’t that more like it, country club?” barry purrs, his lips pressed against rafe’s ear.

rafe feels a shiver rocket down his spine, but also a flare of anxiety.

barry is certainly fucked up beyond comprehension, and they haven’t exactly talked about making their relationship public. rafe has no idea if this is something barry will regret in the morning and end up cutting rafe off.

but to be fair, if barry did wake up and decide to tell rafe to fuck off, rafe would probably just kill him. he might just kill him anyway, just because he feels like it.

and since barry’s inevitable death is hurtling towards them at breakneck speed, rafe might as well enjoy barry’s final moments while he can.

so he lets barry kiss him, full on the mouth, on display for the hundred or so other people milling about the room.

rafe, regrettably, makes a strangled noise in the back of his throat when he feels barry’s tongue dip into his mouth, sweeping across his own.

regrettably, because some fucking weird ass next to barry leans in close to watch. rafe can see the movement out of the corner of his eye.

but barry isn’t deterred. he might be a little encouraged, even, because he deepens the kiss even more, pressing in so close that rafe feels like they could crawl inside of each other and form one cohesive nightmare of a person.

“ain’t peg you for a fag, barry,” the guy comments, his words slurring. he burps after he speaks, and barry detaches his lips from rafe to look over at the source of the noise.

“the fuck you just say to me?” barry snaps, digging his fingers into rafe’s hips to keep him in place when rafe moves to get up, ready to just slit this guy’s throat and be done with it. “ain’t you in my damn house, fuckass? who the fuck you think you’re talkin’ to?”

“hey, man, didn’t mean no offense,” the guy says, raising his hands in mock surrender before burping again. “jus’ askin’.”

“getcho’ dumbass out my house, bro,” barry tells him, removing one hand from rafe’s hips for only a moment, just to shove the guy out of his seat.

the still nameless man just shrugs, gulping down the remnants of his beer before getting up and disappearing into the crowd.

“i think you guys are cute,” a girl giggles from where she’s seated, across from the couch rafe and barry are currently planted on.

barry looks up at rafe, and it’s almost fond and god, that’s disgusting. rafe wants to soak himself in it, let it marinate until it’s deeply ingrained in every fiber of his being.

“sho’ are,” barry agrees with her, still looking up at rafe. he’s got one hand beneath rafe’s shirt now, nails raking over his back.

rafe shudders, wishing he could dissolve every person in this room right this very moment so he can curl up inside barry and make a home there.

“gotta say, ‘m a little jealous, man,” some other guy pipes up from barry’s other side.

rafe looks over at him, one brow arched, finding the guy staring right back as he hits some sort of pipe.

probably filled with meth, based on the state of the guy’s teeth.

classy.

“guess you just gon’ have to be jealous, then,” barry tosses back, not bothering to spare the guy a glance before returning his mouth to rafe’s.

the party comes and goes, faster than rafe anticipated, but that maybe can be attributed to the fact that barry keeps rafe glued to him at all times, practically devouring him every chance he can get, and showing him off to every person who happens to look their way.

rafe will admit, it’s a little satisfying, knowing how proud barry is to have staked his claim. he’s surprised that he’s so okay with barry being so possessive of him, too.

rafe cameron normally does not like the idea of being owned by anyone or anything. at least, he hadn’t up until now.

at this point, he’s pretty sure he’d let barry put a dog collar on him that reads property of barry the coke dealer, without complaint.

now, lounging in barry’s bed, sweat-soaked and panting, rafe sparks a blunt. he takes a long hit and passes it to barry.

“you did this on purpose,” rafe says, knowingly.

barry just grins up at the ceiling like a shark, shrugging as he hits the blunt.

“you’re pretty, rafe cameron. and you’re mine,” barry tells him, passing the weed back. “what’s it hurt to show off a little? you ain’t die or nothing.”

“never said it was a bad thing,” rafe snorts. “just maybe give me a little warning next time you plan to parade me around as your trophy wife.”

“like you ain’t get off on all them people talking ‘bout how jealous they are that i get to have you.”

barry has a point, rafe will admit. not out loud, mind you, but still. in the quiet of his mind, where no one else can hear, he agrees with barry wholeheartedly.

“can you blame them? i mean, look at me,” rafe says with a snooty little sniff, running a hand along his jaw. “you landed yourself a masterpiece. people are gonna notice.”

“you so damn full of yourself, country club,” barry snorts. “imma have to knock that ego down a peg. i been too nice to you.”

“says the guy whose ego grew ten times larger just by being a show-off about his boyfriend.”

barry rolls over onto his side, watching rafe hit the blunt with heavily-lidded eyes. “boyfriend, huh? ain’t we a bit old for that?”

“you literally called me your boyfriend like, fifty times today. do not even- ”

barry shuts him up mid-sentence by taking the blunt from rafe’s hand and putting it out on the ashtray next to the bed, tangling his fingers in rafe’s hair, and pulling him in for a kiss that’s all tongues and teeth.

rafe wanted to finish his sentence, had planned on finishing it, but barry doesn’t give him the chance. not with the way he’s kissing him right now.

within a matter of moments, rafe forgets what he was planning to say in the first place. but whatever, he’s fucking tired, barry feels good and smells good and tastes good. so what if he’s a trophy wife, so what if he may or may not get off on people being jealous that barry gets to date him. to own him.

it’s all arbitrary.

instead of figuring out what he was going to say, rafe breaks away from barry’s lips, fastening his mouth to barry’s neck and biting down.

his teeth sink in deep, and he hopes with everything he has left in him that it leaves a scar.

[joonkorre]

(love) is a heartache

@drarrymicrofic prompt: hope is a heartache - léon

let it be known that harry goes through life purely on vibes. half of his reasons why for every decision at his big age are “idk imma just hope for the best”

ao3

People’s hearts twinge sometimes. For Draco, he can barely remember the last time he doesn’t have these twinges. It’s pretty normal at this point.

“No, it’s not,” Pansy says. She’s a Healer, so she’s probably right. But Draco prefers to ignore that.

“Leave it be,” Draco murmurs, lips against her scalp, “I’m fine. Say, are you free tomorrow?”

“Yeah. You want to go somewhere?”

“Mm. Sleep.”

They go out the next morning, Pansy in thick makeup and Draco practically drunk under nine layers of Charms. The air is a bit humid, which seems to get worse when the bustling street intensifies in volume into a roaring din. Pansy pulls him under an awning, yanking at his sleeve a bit to try out her disgusting sugary coffee. She always does this whenever she wants to take his attention away from something, which means he just has to look at exactly where she’s doesn’t want him to. As his lips wrap around her lipstick-stained straw, he glances up.

Across the street, a couple strolls through a gushing crowd. Fiery red hair, airy laughter, a pale arm wrapped around her fiancé’s waist. Curls of black, sleek spectacles, a protective palm on his fiancee’s shoulder. They make the perfect picture, a vibrant oil painting. Their existence is formed from bold strokes of sunlight and starburst kisses, with the focal point being a shock of phthalo green and cadmium lemon, two minute specks that make all the difference. As all good paintings do, they pin the viewer on the spot, as if the viewer himself is a thing to behold. Then they shift away.

The exhibit moves forward and out of sight. It’s closing time, the viewer has overstayed his welcome.

Something leaps in Draco’s chest and splatters on the floor of his stomach. Placing her hand over his heart, Pansy frowns at him. She doesn’t ask why Potter stared at someone who looked like a stranger to him. Only tells him to start finding answers.

Months later, on the most awaited day in recent Wizarding history, there’s a knock on Draco’s door.

He throws on a sweater, and a throw, too, for good measure. Ambling to the door, he checks the mail slot before peeking through the peephole. Nobody but a package is outside. Draco hums and unlocks his door, crouching down the moment it opens. What feels like soft satin brushes against his cheek, cool and smooth. With a flash, a pair of shiny dress shoes appear before him.

“Draco.”

Draco peers up as he rises, hands around the package. Potter has his maddening Invisibility Cloak slung over his arm, his roguish charm heightened by a perfectly fitted three-piece suit. A tiny posy is pinned on his left lapel, muted green hellebores with a few sprigs of privet berries. He’s dressed like a man in love.

Draco feels something he hasn’t felt in months at the sight. He’s trained himself to suppress it the moment it showed itself and has been relatively successful until now. The sting, without warning, bursts from within his chest, calling forth a slight wince. Potter’s brows furrow.

"How do you know where I live?"

“How long has this been going on?”

Draco frowns. “Pardon?”

“That,” Potter gestures at Draco’s chest. “The heartache.”

He rears back. What the hell is he supposed to say to that? At Potter’s unchanging expression, Draco shoves his hair out of his face with a quiet huff and puts a hand on the doorknob.

“It’s none of your business. Please leave.”

“It is, actually,” Potter stops the closing door with one arm.

“Excuse me? We haven't had a proper conversation in more than a decade and suddenly you want to act like we're friends? Leave, now.”

“Listen to me. How can it not be my business when I feel it, too?”

“Check with a Healer, then. If you can put past grudges aside, I can hand you Pansy Parkinson’s business card,” Draco grits through his teeth, pushing against the door with his entire body, his throw slipping to the ground.

“Draco, stop, I already know, stop.”

“Know what? No, I don't care. Leave at once, else I’d alert the Aurors.”

A rough slam sends Draco staggering back. Potter pants, hard lines on his face. His chest heaves under his crisp white shirt, its top two buttons unclasped, and he steps over the threshold, closing the door.

“You think they’d believe you?”

The pain shoots from his chest to the rest of his body, and for several seconds, his lungs wouldn’t work. He whips his head away from Potter, who groans and sags against the wall.

“I told you to leave.”

“I’m sorry, that was a shitty thing to say,” Potter says immediately, sweat dotting his temples.

After an uncomfortable pause, clearing his throat, he picks up the near-forgotten package from the carpet. His hand feels around the outline of the object within, rectangular and heavy. Glancing at Draco, he says hoarsely. “I know why you bought this book.”

“Know this, know that, you know nothing,” Draco lunges forward, only for Potter to twist out of the way and raise the package out of his reach.

“The Life-long Burden of Dark Curses: A Caution by Elise Arrowlane, limited edition,” he says, unbothered by Draco’s slackened jaw. “You ordered it from the new bookstore on Diagon months ago. You were small and old and grey, but I recognized you. I always could.”

“Okay,” Draco sneers, “so you’re a stalker. Old news. Anything else?”

“There’s no need to order one. I would’ve borrowed it from Hermione if you had only asked,” Potter says. “Instead, I got curious and read it for myself. That’s how I connected the dots about the heartache, how I realized we’ve both had it since that day years ago.”

“Oh, the day you slashed me into ribbons and almost cut through my heart?” Draco clenches his jaw.

Being able to shout this ugly kind of truth into the perpetrator’s face feels oddly liberating. That is, if liberation also comes with a specific kind of agony that makes Draco want to fall to his knees.

“Dark Magic leaves a mark on both the wizard and their victim, doesn’t it? No need for a book to tell us that,” Potter says, the harsh afternoon glow of him gentled by the soft lamplight in Draco’s hallway. “In certain cases, it even leaves a link. A connection.”

Draco bites the inside of his cheek and looks away. The only consequence from that horrid night was his fucked up heart and nothing else, nothing at all. Whatever Potter is insinuating, he hates it. He hates this. He hates him.

“How are you so sure there’s a connection.”

“I wasn’t,” Potter says. “The Healers said it’s a health thing I developed after the War and I just needed to avoid strenuous activity. I didn’t think much of it, but then I read the book and realized that it usually flared up whenever you watched me.”

Scoffing, Draco turns and stalks into the kitchen. Walking past the boiling kettle, he throws a cabinet door open and grabs a mug, his hand trembling.

“Interesting how my health suffers when I see the bastard who quite literally carved me open.”

“I was eating dinner when I thought I was going to die of a heart attack at 23,” Potter continues. Draco pulls the drawers out, unable to find a single bag of tea for several excruciating moments. “The next day, I was reading about your mother’s death on the Daily Prophet. That was the first sign.”

Grabbing a rag and wetting it, Draco wipes the countertop even as he’s just done so last night.

“When Ginny saw you on the street during our date and extended her hand toward you, you shook it. But your heart ached.

“I saw you looking at the picture of Ginny and I kissing on the front page of Witch Weekly. Your hair was brown and your back was curved, but I saw you. Your heart ached.

“When I announced my engagement to her on the Battle of Hogwarts’s 10th Anniversary, you were clapping along with everyone else. But your heart ached.”

Draco throws the rag on the counter. The kettle whistles, a piercing sound. “What’s your point? Are you here purely to flaunt your relationship and imply that I’m in love with Ginevra Weasley? If so, I got it. Thank you so very much, it’s been enlightening. Now get out.”

“The point is,” Potter says, lifting the kettle off the burner to pour it into Draco’s mug, placing his tea bag in, “unless the article about you being gay was wrong, Ginny isn’t the one you’re in love with.”

“What arti—” Draco stops. “That was years ago.”

His sexuality was leaked to some irrelevant gossip rag, not even making the front page. Nobody noticed, nothing changed, and it hasn’t entered his mind in what feels like forever until Potter reminds him.

“I remember.”

“You—” Draco frowns. His eyes strain on the cup of tea until they hurt. He squeezes them shut, sighing. “It doesn’t prove anything. Perhaps I’m jealous of my childhood nemesis having a better life than me, ever thought of that?”

“Yeah,” Potter says, “I’ve thought about this a lot. Which is why I’m here. To make sure.”

Draco takes it in, then, unable to help himself, curls his lips at Potter and his attire. At his artfully gelled hair, his hanging bow tie, the elegant boutonniere on the lapel of his dark blue suit. His empty ring finger.

“Couldn’t you have chosen a better date to make sure? Preferably before your wedding day?”

Potter steps closer. A respectable distance away, but closer.

“I could’ve, but I spent most of those days in denial. Then the dots connected and I couldn’t deny it anymore, so I decided to just go through with the wedding regardless, be with the woman I loved. Hoped that maybe the odd emotions I had would go away,” he shrugs, raising his eyes to meet Draco’s. “Saw Ginny at the end of the aisle and, well, I couldn’t stop thinking that it should’ve been someone else. All this time, I’ve thought that she didn’t feel… right in my arms, but I pushed it down. And there she was in that white dress.

“Seeing that today was the last straw. I had to leave.”

Draco’s breath catches in his throat. Swallowing it down, he grabs his mug, scooping out the tea bag just to have something to do. He takes a sip without blowing, ignoring its scalding heat.

“That was stupid.”

“Yeah.”

“You’re so fucking stupid,” Draco can feel a headache building. “That was a horrible decision. I never imagined you—you!—out of all people, could be this irresponsible. What the fuck.”

“You���re right.”

“Of course I am. Merlin, that poor fucking woman. If your purpose here is to make me feel bad for Ginevra and all 300 of her relatives for once in my life, you’ve succeeded, congratulations.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t say that to me, say that to—oh, you’d do what you want no matter what I say, wouldn’t you?”

“Depends on the situation.”

“‘Depends on the situation,’ he says,” Draco mocks, getting a carton of milk from the fridge to save his bitter, bitter tea. Potter doesn’t reply. Stirring the milk in, Draco lets out a heavy sigh.

“What do you want me to do about this?” He says. “I didn’t make you run out of your own wedding. If you expect me to take the blame for your inane decisions, the first person I Floo wouldn’t be the Aurors, but Ginevra Weasley herself.”

A small smile graces Potter’s lips. “I don’t expect anything from you but honesty.”

Draco squints.

“And how will you know if what I say is a lie? Will you reject my genuine answer if it’s not what you want to hear?”

“That won’t be a problem,” Potter says. “I trust your heart will speak the truth for us both.”

There’s a pang in Draco’s chest, and judging from the twitch of Potter’s brow, he can feel it too. Not another word is said, the two men merely facing each other from across a tiny kitchen, considering. Draco can feel the warmth of sunlight beaming through the little window and coating his nape as he leans against the sink, earl grey on his tongue. Lovely citric notes of bergamot drift up his nose. He closes his eyes. What to do, what to do.

Weightless oxfords clack against the yellowed tiles, clear and bright in Draco’s ears. Fabric rustles as Potter slips a hand into his pocket only to retrieve it a second later. Draco lets himself be cornered, barely glancing at the wool-clad arms caging either side of his waist. A clink catches his attention, however, and he tilts his head to the left.

Millimeters beside Draco’s hand on the counter, glinting in the sun, is a wedding band. Draco knows Potter and Ginevra’s in and out, has examined the picture on that day’s issue of the Daily Prophet more times than he should have. He knows the marquise droplets of Ginevra’s gems and the chevron curve of her ring, the blankness of Potter’s own band a dream and a question in his mind.

The band that’s resting on the counter is different. Rustic gold and a fissure in the middle, the fertile earth splitting open to reveal a stream of diamonds, a sparkling river. Draco sets his mug to the side and holds the ring up close, his finger smoothing over the grooves of its texture.

“Did you make a stop at a jewelry store before breaking into my home?” He asks.

“No,” Harry murmurs. Draco looks at him in surprise. “I’ve had this with me for months.”

A pause.

“I thought you said you were in denial.”

“I was, but I knew, somewhat, that I wanted someone else,” Harry’s head lowers, slow and careful, until his forehead rests against Draco’s shoulder. “I told myself that I just liked the way it looked, had to get it in case I didn’t want the other ring anymore. But I got it a size smaller. Been carrying it in my pocket ever since.”

Draco’s heart throbs and throbs. Large hands circle his waist, bunching up the back of his sweater and pressing him close, chest to chest. A blanket of pure heat envelops his body as he breathes in the timeless saffron and neroli of cologne, half-lidded eyes pinned on the band he’s given. Oh, dear, he thinks, and again when it settles at the base of his ring finger with ease, as if it belongs there and never left. Oh, dear.

[kitkatd7]

Broken Hearts and Whiskey

Summary: Bucky’s not the same anymore. He doesn’t spend time with you at all, or keep his promises. And your done with it.

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Warnings: Cursing, lots of angst, drinking, my grammar errors because I didn’t fully edit

Dialogue Prompt #19. “Please! You have to let me make this right.” 

Dialogue Prompt #7: "I can't keep being your second choice, not when you're my first." 

(Prompts will be in bold)

Word Count: 1,654

A/N: This is for @imma-new-soul‘s 550 Follower Writing Challenge and @buckys-other-punk 500 Writing Challenge!! I hope y’all like it! Sorry it’s pretty sad and the ending isn’t as good as it could be :( Also this was inspired by the songs ‘Die From a Broken Heart by Maddie & Tae and Different For Girls by Dierks Bentley' Also there are a few Criminal Minds references in here😂

Masterlinst of Masterlists || Marvel Masterist || Series Masterist || part 2 

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“See you later!” You call over your shoulder at Natasha and Wanda as you unlock the door to your apartment, coming home from a very successful shopping spree. Walking into your home you toe-off your shoes at the door, setting down your keys and purse. “Babe, I’m home!” You sing, excited to finally get some time with Bucky after him being gone on a mission for three weeks. “Babe?” You ask, walking into the kitchen, setting down your multiple shopping bags and taking in the empty space. Where the hell is he? After searching the bedroom, living room, even the bathroom and still coming up empty, you look to see if you missed any calls. Nope. He was supposed to be here you fume inwardly as you press the speed dial photo; both of you together at a carnival, you smiling brightly as he places a kiss on your cheek sweetly.

It goes straight to voicemail. 5 times. Now you're not even mad… just disappointed in him. He promised. On try number 6 you’re just done. “Hey, it’s me. Listen, so I don’t know where you are but- just don’t bother coming home tonight, okay? I had plans but- never mind, it doesn’t matter that much. I’ll see you later.”  Pressing the red button you throw your phone on the couch before changing into something more comfortable. It wouldn’t be so frustrating that he wasn’t here if it was a one time thing- But this is the fifth time he hasn’t come home to spend time with you after a mission.

Plopping on the couch, you press start on something mindless that you aren’t going to watch anyway before checking your phone for- well. really anything.

1 new message

Unlocking your phone quickly, you open it in high hopes, only to see Sam’s name appear and your face falls. 

Sam: Bucky said you tried to call. Is it important?

You: No… just we had plans.

You confide, knowing Sam will understand.

Sam: Oh shit. Okay, want me to tell him to come home?

You: No. It’s fine.

Sighing, you toss your phone on the other end of the couch, throwing your head back in newfound anger. Asshole. He saw your calls and didn’t even pick up the damn phone. After a year of dating, you at least deserved that. 

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“Hey this is y/n, I can’t come to the phone right now cuz I’m out livin’ my life! Leave it at the beep.” He hears your all too familiar voicemail through the speaker. He had helped you come up with it, you hadn’t known what to put on it. He kicks himself, knowing you weren’t actually out living your life, just dodging his calls. Not that he blamed you- He deserved it and he knew it. Calling again, he’s not surprised when he hears your voicemail again.

“Hey… Um, listen, I know I was supposed to be at your place after the mission… I just wanted to unwind with the guys and- Shit. I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t think you would mind that much, I’ll be over in a bit to make it up to you, okay?” He leaves the message and ends the call before starting his car and driving towards your apartment, guilt heavy in his stomach.

You listen to his voicemail over and over, a strange mix of rage and sorrow weighing on your heart.

Tears roll slowly down your cheeks silently as you lay curled up in a defensive ball on your bed, trying to block out the unmistakable sound of Bucky begging you to open the front door; “Babe, please open the door,” He says, fist resting gently against the frame. “I’m sorry- really, really sorry. Please let me in and we can talk about it,” He sighs, resting his head against the door in defeat. He could break the lock and go in. You both know that. But he wouldn’t do that to you- All that would do is make you fear him and that’s the last thing he wants. He slides his back down the wall til he’s sitting on the floor next to your door, his elbows on his knees and his hands in his hair; Tears gathering in his lashes. He really messed up this time.

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The next day you drag yourself out of bed, trying to forget last night and all the tears you shed. After a shower and breakfast, you head out the door for a coffee run before work. You stop in your tracks when you see Bucky still sitting there, eyes red from lack of sleep and regret written all over his face. He jumps up when you walk out, keys in hand, the door closing behind you. “What are you doing here?” 

“I- I came to apologize,” he murmurs, looking in your eyes.

“I don’t want to hear it,” you bite, moving to step around him but stopping when he steps to block your path.

“Bucky, I’m going to be late for work,” you say coldly, glaring at him. “Move out of the way.”

“Please doll, just let me expla-”

Huffing, you roll your eyes. “I understand perfectly, James.” You watch as he flinches a little at the use of his first name. You only use it when your really mad or really happy, and it isn’t the latter right now. “You were too busy with your beer buddies to come see your girlfriend after being gone for three weeks, but what’s new? It’s been like this for months. I guess it was naive of me to expect something else this time.” You shoulder past him as he stares at you; dumbfounded. Tears gather in your eyes as you make your way to your car in the rain. Your almost there when you feel a large hand on your arm and hear your name being whispered. You turn around and look up into his stormy eyes. You always loved his eyes- They’re always so bright and big and- Now is not the time to be thinking about his stupidly gorgeous eyes.

“Please! You have to let me make this right,” he whispers, tears forming in his eyes as well, mixing with the raindrops rolling down his face and dampening is hair. 

“Bucky…” You sigh, pulling your arm out of his grasp gently. “I don’t think you can fix this. I can't keep being your second choice, not when you're my first." You climb into your car as he stares at you as you pull out of the parking lot. He sinks to the ground on his knees, not caring that his clothes are practically soaked, or that someone might think he looks crazy. None of that matters- because your gone. His girl. Gone. He can’t breathe. The pressure weighs heavy in lungs as all the air is pushed from them and his heart shatters. It’s all he can do to draw a ragged breathe between sobs.

---------------------

You manage to hold yourself together until you pull into the starbucks parking lot. And then you totally loose it; Tears and mascara mix together and run down your cheeks as you sob into your steering wheel. It feels like your heart is being torn out of your chest. Bucky was the best thing that ever happened to you… and deep down you had feared something like this would happen, but you didn’t think it actually would. You loved him- And now he was gone. 

You trek into Walmart, heading straight for the junk food isle, not caring that you look like an absolute mess. Grabbing some much needed chocolate, chips, cookies and other coping foods, you check out, starting to cry again when the cashier gives you a pitiful look on your way out. 

Stumbling into your apartment, you throw your bags on the kitchen counter before grabbing your desired snacks and tossing them on your bed. You pull on sweatpants and one of Bucky’s hoodies, sending an ache of longing through your chest. Even changing clothes feels like more effort than you could possibly muster but you somehow manage before crawling into bed and turning on reruns of Friends before you start crying again. After 2 bags of chocolate, a bag of Doritos, a burger and french fries you grabbed on the way home, you still feel like absolute shit. Maybe this is just how it will be- Unable to get over him, unable to move on. Eventually you fall asleep from exhaustion, tear stains and left-over makeup on your face and Bucky’s pillow clutched against your chest. 

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Bucky ambles into the bar, sliding onto a stool with sullen eyes, ordering a shot of vodka before mumbling “Keep em coming.” 

Throwing his head back, he grimaces as the bitter liquid burns its way down his throat. He knows he can’t get drunk but he’s willing to try. Anything to stop feeling like this.

The old barkeep leans on the bar behind him, looking at Bucky with an evaluating stare. 

“What was her name?” He questions gently after a moment of silence.

“Wha- How did you know?” Bucky looks up in surprise and pain, his forearms resting on the bar, holding another shot.

“Son, you can’t hide the look of love gone wrong.”

Tossing back another, Bucky looks in the shot glass like it holds all the answers before whispering your name, his voice breaking. “Did you ever love someone?” He asks brokenly.

The older man chuckles lightly at this. “I did, still do.” He holds up his left hand as proof.  “Do you wanna know the secret to love?” He asks, stepping closer.

“Why not, it’s not like I could lose anything else,” Bucky says dryly, taking yet another shot.

“Sometimes love doesn’t last and you have to let it go… but sometimes you have to fight for it. And it’s up to you to decide which you’re gonna do. So which is it?”

-----------------------

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[petri808]

It Took A Storm

Twitter Event 31 days of Bakudeku Winter 

Snowed-In Prompt

Oh, this was not good! They’d been cut off from their hunting party and somehow become lost on the mountain. At this time of the year, the weather was unpredictable, but with a village to feed, they’d had no choice but to find scarce game.

The snows came swift and blistering, forcing the two frustrated hunters deeper and deeper into the forest in search of a cave. It was their only hope to survive the blizzards onslaught. But even with that the odds were stacked against them as the wind chilled them to their cores.

“Hurry the fuck up!”

“T-Too... c-cold...” the smaller male chattered. Stinging pain wracked his body as he desperately rubbed his arms for a tiny bit of warmth. They hadn’t expected to be caught in a storm and weren’t dressed to endure it. He was so cold it hurt to move an inch.

“Ugh! Why’d I get stuck with you Deku?” Katsuki, the larger of the two and better built for extremes, pulled the smaller male closer and dragged him along. He was cold as well, but his body temp tended to be higher than normal and sheer determination pushed him forward.

“S-Sor—ry, K-Kacc—chan.”

All their lives, Katsuki felt stuck to Izuku’s side. He swore to himself he needed to cut the man loose, that he couldn’t protect him forever, and yet when push came to shove... he couldn’t do it. Maybe he enjoyed his prowess over the smaller man. 

Or perhaps... ‘fuck that!’ Katsuki screamed in his head. Why in the world would he want someone so weak? He was their villages strongest hunter for fucks sakes! And this male omega didn’t qualify as preferred stock. A stout breeder would produce a better heir for the alpha.

“Final fuckingly!” A cave! By this point, Izuku’s frame was so cold, Katsuki had picked him up and carried him to move faster. Deep down the mans condition worried the alpha, but he hid it well behind a wall of anger. Logic kicked into autopilot and survival was the end goal. 

The cave provided a reprieve from the wind and snow, but more was needed to ensure they’d survive the cold winter’s night. Katsuki placed the man down and covered him as best he could with his fur coat. Next he went back out to forage for kindling and wood to make a fire. 

From his rucksack, Katsuki grabbed his flint and works at a fire. Now with a light source, scavenged the cave for anything of use such as old dried bones for fuel. It wasn’t much, so he could only hope the fire lasted through the night.

“Stay with me Deku, don’t die yet!”

Between their meager fur clothing and one large cloak to share, Katsuki bundled Izuku close to his chest hoping body heat coupled with the fire would be enough. The smaller man was curled into a fetal position, shivering something fierce as his body fought to survive.

It scared Katsuki. For the first real time, fear crept into his heart. As much as Izuku annoyed him, he couldn’t picture a life without the man. He curled his own body around the mans frame and prayed, cussed out the gods of their tribe not to take Izuku away from him.

“You got that Deku?” Katsuki whispered close. “You’re not allowed to die tonight.” He couldn’t tell if Izuku heard him or maybe he just needed to hear it out loud because reality wasn’t so forgiving if the blue tinged lips or cold fingers were a painfully obvious indication.

Hypothermia was taking its toll, but he knew the shivering meant Izuku’s body was fighting its effects. He rubbed the mans hands between his own and blew hot air onto to them then shoved them under his vest to keep them right against his skin. Katsuki flinched at the contact.

They were so icy cold. “You’re never going on a hunt again Deku, do you hear me? You’re staying your ass in the village so I don’t have to worry about you. Do you have any idea how much I fucking worry?!” Katsuki tucked Izuku’s head under his chin and squeezed his eyes shut. 

Katsuki didn’t want to let the tears win no matter how much they built up behind his eyelids. He hated these emotions, and Deku was the one person in their whole village who always made him feel such uncomfortable feelings! He grit his teeth as a tear broke free. “Damn you!”

He fought so hard not to give into his true feelings for the omega no matter how many times the answer’d been made clear. Izuku *knew* the alpha’s soul inside and out. He could bring out his rage or calm it faster than anyone in the village. They were perfectly matched.

With just the howling winds or crackling of the fire to distract him, Katsuki’s mind kept going back to thoughts he’d rather not delve into. Could he have prevented all this? There was a way... but it required him to accept the truth and he hadn’t been ready... yet.

Izuku followed him because it hurt the omega to leave his side. The man was too imprinted on the alpha and gave himself freely even as Katsuki rejected him year after year. His selfish acts may have just cost him the life of his true mate. “No!” The alpha growled, 

“Impossible,” he mumbled through gritted teeth. The odds seemed against them, but he wouldn’t accept it. Izuku was small in size yes, but the omega had a strength that Katsuki could never understand. How else could he put up with such an angry alpha all these years?! 

But there wasn’t anything else he could do now except let fate take it’s course. Between the cold and emotional exhaustion, Katsuki slipped into his own unconsciousness and the splintering of built walls. His last thoughts of repentance blurred away with the wind. 

The heat of the sun’s rays upon his back woke Katsuki the next morning and the vestiges of a fitful sleep instantly disappeared in a panic. ‘Izuku?!’ He was still curled tight like a ball around Izuku, so he shifted just enough to check the omegas breathing. 

It was shallow, but there, and the body still cold but his lips were no longer the deep blue of the night before. If one didn’t know better, Izuku simply looked asleep. Katsuki let out the breath he’d been holding in relief that the omega made it through the worst of it.

They weren’t out of danger yet and needed to get back to the village, but based on the amount of snow Katsuki could see at the caves entrance, it would be a difficult journey. He assessed the situation better now that he could see more and decided to stay put just a bit longer.

The storm had passed, but trudging down the mountain would be too difficult for Izuku in his condition. Katsuki needed to get his reserves back up, warmed and food for energy. So, he left the omega bundled under the fur coat to find as much wood as possible and hopefully meat.

This is where Katsuki’s knowledge took center stage. Everything was wet and would make a fire difficult to start but not impossible. It took several trips, but he found large fallen logs and dug beneath areas that had some protection to gather leaf or bramble debris as kindling.

With the help of a small axe in his rucksack, he cut through the bark of the larger logs to get to the drier areas inside. He used rocks to create a pit and better deflector for the heat. Luck even smiled on Katsuki when he found and caught a snow fox who’d ventured into the sun.

The final step was curtaining the entrance off with as much brush as he could haul, creating a wall to block some of the winds still funneling through. It allowed the fire to catch on and grow to twice the size of the night before, bathing the cave in heat. 

Through it all, Izuku had not yet awoken, but he could see the omega wasn’t as clenched up as much anymore. Katsuki’s efforts were paying off and that took a huge weight off his shoulders. While he waited for the man to wake up, he skinned and cooked the fox meat for them to eat.

“Kacchan?” The soft voice called out from beneath the coat. 

“I’m here,” Katsuki replied and shifted his position so the man could see him better. “How do you feel Deku?”

“Cold, but not as painful anymore... w-where are we?”

“In a cave. The snow is still too thick to leave.”

Tears trickled from Izuku’s eyes, “I’m sorry Kacchan, I’m so sorry for being so weak...”

“Just— stop,” Katsuki cut him off. “I’m just glad you survived, okay? We’ll get out of here as soon as you can walk on your own.”

“But if I’d been stronger you wouldn’t be in this mess.”

“Ugh, do you have to have to argue with me?! It’s not your fault a storm hit. Though yes, if you’d stayed home like I told you to, you’d be safe right now!”

Izuku sniffled and hung his head, “I won’t do it again. I don’t want to hurt you anymore Kacchan.”

“Damn right you won’t, cause when we get back to the village imma fill you with a pup so you’ll have to stay your ass at home!”

Izuku’s eyes widen. “You... but, wait, you never wanted to— I don’t understand, Kacchan never wanted me.”

“I didn’t wanna admit it before.”

Katsuki adjusted the fur coat over Izuku’s shoulders, making sure as little skin showed through. He averted his eyes, still gripping the front of the coat. “You almost died Izu.” His voice was soft, reflective and so unlike what either were used to hearing from the alpha. 

“Died... and all I could think about is I can’t lose you. This forced me to face the truth that you were always the one for me.” He finally looks straight at Izuku. “So, I need you safe damn it! I need you alive and the best I idea I got is to stick a baby in you to stay put!”

“Oh, Kacchan—,” Izuku beamed and crawled over into the alphas lap, curling against the warmth the man offered. “You’ve made me so happy!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Katsuki grumped though he couldn’t hide the blush alighting his cheeks. “I know you’ll be a good mother to our kids.”

The alpha cleared his throat to ignore the welling up of emotions, “I cooked some fox, so eat up. If the weather holds, we’ll head back to the village first thing tomorrow morning.”

Unexpectedly, Izuku goes silent, his head down, fidgeting with his fingers. A sign Katsuki recognized immediately as when the omega would go into his own thoughts. Something about the situation troubled Izuku and though he had an idea of what it could be, Katsuki wasn’t completely sure. “Talk to me Deku, what’re you thinking?” Silence from the omega made him uneasy.

“Are you... just doing this because you feel bad for me? Female omegas are more highly coveted over males so the likelihood of me finding a mate was low, a-and didn’t you protected me as kids because your mom told you to. I don’t want you to do this because you feel obligated to.”

“Tch. My mom didn’t tell me to do anything, and even if she had, when do I ever do anything I don’t want to? This is my decision Izu. Who better to be my mate than the one person who knows me best?”

“Still, if it’s not for love, then is it the right decision?”

Katsuki dreaded using the word, but it was painfully obvious Izuku needed to hear it. Ugh, this is exactly why he avoided emotions! 

As if sensing the turmoil, Izuku pulls back. “I’m sorry, I should just be happy to be chosen at all. I’m honored to be your mate Kacchan.”

“Ugh! Deku you know I don’t like this kind of shit! I’m not good at this love stuff, but if it’ll make you happy,” he gritted his teeth to push through the discomfort, “I want you to be my mate because I love you. There, I said it! Damn whiny omega, you’re lucky I love you!”

As torturous as it sounded, Izuku knew well enough this really was the alphas way of expressing himself. Happy with the admission, the omega giggled, “I love you too Kacchan!” 

“Good, now shut the fuck up and eat!” 

For the rest of the afternoon, Izuku stayed in the makeshift nest, warmed by the fire and Katsuki’s fur coat as the alpha ensured enough wood/food to last through the night. How strange that after such a change in their status... nothing really changed at all and perhaps the blizzard was the best thing that could have ever happened to them.

[impala-dreamer]

Things We Never Said

SPN FanFic

~The Winchesters have a hard time getting the right words out at the right time.~

Dean x Reader, Sam x Reader

1,565 Words

Warnings: Super Angst.

A/N: This is for my Fic Imitating Art Challenge! The prompt is entirely based on the graphic created by @because-imma-lady-assface. I hope you enjoy!

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Dean wasn’t good with words. They tumbled out of him in emotional bursts that usually got the wrong reaction, causing more problems than they solved.

Sam...he knew how to find the words, knew what he wanted, needed to say,  just not how to get them out. Not when it came to you. Neither of them knew how to explain just what you meant to them.

They met you on a Tuesday, which Sam found strange when he looked back later, because nothing good ever happened on a Tuesday. It was raining, which Dean enjoyed, and he always would remember how you looked up from the ground, covered in mud and cuts, lashes carrying raindrops as you blinked at him.

“Thanks for the hand,” you teased, out of breath from the fight, wind knocked out of you as the demon power shot you across the empty field.

Dean gave a short laugh and extended a hand, instantly taken back when your small hand fit so perfectly into his. “Sorry ‘bout that.”

You jumped to your feet and wiped a bit of mud from your cheek. “Don’t worry about it. I’m used to getting dirty.”

Something about the way you winked at him punched him in the chest and that was the end of him. He could feel it right then and there. Maybe he’d never call it love, but it was something, and that something was stronger than he’d felt in forever.

“You got a name, stranger?” you asked, turning a sly smile at his glazed expression.

“Uh…” His lips moved but no name came out.

“Winchester,” Sam spoke up, jog coming to a halt by your side. “I’m Sam,” he said, reaching to shake your hand. “This is my brother, Dean.”

You smiled up at him as you slipped free from Dean’s grip and into Sam’s. “Sam and Dean Winchester? The Sam and Dean?”

Sam blushed and nodded, bit of hair falling to cover his hazel eyes. “I guess so.”

“Well, lucky me.” You bit your lip and smiled, innocent eyes sparkling even in the darkness of the storm.

Sam fell hard in that moment, lost in the twinkle in your eye and the softness of your voice. He felt his heart beat, every muscle coming to life as you held his hand so tight. He was hooked.

“You fellas wanna give a lady a ride back to her car?” you asked, finally letting them both go and turning towards the road. A quick look over your shoulder showed the brothers frozen in place, faint smitten smiles turning their lips. You laughed and let them watch you walk away, swinging your hips a little more obviously than usual.

Dean sighed. “She’s…”

Sam cleared his throat. “Yeah…”

The brothers shared a look and took off, determined to see who would get to you first; a friendly competition for your hand.

Time moved quickly as it always did and the Tuesdays piled up in the rearview.

In the end, neither Winchester made a move, knowing it would only lead to trouble between them. The world gave them enough issues. Bringing one home, even one as intriguing as you, just wasn’t in the cards.

That was fine with you, you weren’t in it for love anyway. Still, there were times when Dean’s lips accidentally met yours after a bottle of whiskey, or his heated admonishments would make your heart swell, knowing he yelled because he was worried.

You never talked about those drunken nights or passionate pep talks, not with anyone.

Not even when Sam slipped into your room at night, curling his long body around yours, nuzzling into your ear, whispering words of comfort. Not when his fingers would brush against yours beneath the table while you both poured over books in the Library.

It was an unspoken thing. They both held your heart, but they pretended all was normal. Just friends, colleagues even. A trio of hunters working to rid the world of monsters and the evil that lurked in the night.

It was a Tuesday when they lost you.

The poetic irony of the day nearly snapped Sam in half when he realized the date, rushing to your side as you fell, the monster’s claws ripping straight through your flesh.

The sun was bright and the sky was filled with marshmallow clouds that seemed soft and calming; your eyes locking onto one that looked a bit like a duck as Dean cradled your head in his lap.

“No, Y/N/N, please…” his voice cracked as he rubbed your cheek with his big thumb, feeling the cold already setting in.

You pulled away from the sky to look into his eyes one last time. You could feel the blood flowing, pouring out even as Sam pressed his giant hands to your stomach. “Dean…” you smiled as he leaned close, tears welling in his green eyes. “I love you.”

He shuddered and pressed his forehead to yours, jaw clenching as he tried to keep himself together.

Sam was shaking, pushing down on your wound, but all the pressure in the world couldn’t hold back the flood. It was too much. It was too late.

You reached for him, a weak hand rising to curl around his ear. “Sam, hey.”

He looked up, face masked with misery. “Y/N, I…”

“Come here.” Dizziness crept in as the sky burned bright white above, but Sam blocked the brightness as he leaned close.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N,” he whispered, lifting a bloody hand to your cheek.

“No, Sam.” A cough shook your body and you bit back a scream, determined to make it through one last word. “L-love you.”

It was raining again, but the flames took no notice.

Sam stood at Dean’s left, cheeks flooded with tears, hands stuffed deep in his pockets. His shoulders were tight and his body was slumped, somehow shrinking him down into a shell of a man instead of the giant hero he was. Grief was heavy. His heart even more so.

Dean was calm. He stood like a statue, eyes unblinking as the pyre consumed your body. He was tired of saying goodbye, tired of feeling the heartache of love lost too soon. It clawed at him from deep inside, shredding his soul with every speck of ash that floated to Heaven.

Sam broke the silence, speaking suddenly as if you could still hear him. His voice was strained and high as he choked around the tears. “Y/N, I… I’m sorry I couldn’t save you. I’m sorry we…”

“Don’t do that,” Dean spat, head shaking subtly.

“What?”

“Don’t apologize to her. This wasn’t your fault.”  

Sam let out a quick breath as anger began to brew. “It wasn’t yours either.”

Dean nodded. “I know.”

The fire crackled loudly and Sam turned back to the outline of your body.

“There’s no blame here,” Dean said, never looking away from the flames. “It’s not anyone’s fault, Sammy. Shit happens. She died how she wanted.”

“She didn’t want to die, Dean,” Sam snapped.

“No, but she knew she would some day.”

Sam grit his teeth. “Why are you being so calm about this?”

“I’m not.” His voice was too even, too slow, and the tears began to fall at last. “I loved her, Sam. Since the first moment I saw her. I feel...I feel like my heart’s been ripped out of my chest and is burning on that pyre right now. I…” He took a deep breath and licked the salt from his lip, eyes darting between the wood and ash. “I never told her. I could never fucking say it back.”

Sam broke again, letting go of the anger he felt at Dean’s apparent callousness and falling forward. He hit the ground and sank back, bringing his knees up to his chest like a little boy lost in a crowd. “She was…”

Dean looked down and back, nodding quickly. “I know, Sammy.”

“And she never asked for anything,” he went on, words tumbling from his shaking lips. “Never complained about what we were or what you guys were, never brought it up. It’s like...she was happy in the middle. Just to be there. She was she was always there. I should have told her. I should have said it. I…”

Dean took a breath and closed his eyes finally, lifting his face to the sky, letting the heat of the funeral flames lick at his cheeks. “She knew.”

“Did she?” Sam yelled. “Did she!”

Green eyes returned to the fire, barely able to make out your silhouette anymore. “She did, Sam. I know she did.”

They weren’t good with words.

Dean never figured out the things he wanted to say in the way he wanted to say them; substituting an ‘I Love You’ with a kiss on the forehead or a longing smile from afar.

Sam never said what he needed to; fear and doubt keeping his words locked deep inside. He would share his nightmares and wishes, hopes and heartache in quiet whispers in the dark, but ‘I Love You’ was too hard to touch.

They kept your picture in the Library; small framed snapshot tucked away on a shelf with the books you loved, a smile captured and kept forever.

They kept their ‘I Love Yous’ in that same Library, filed away under ‘Things We Never Said’.

2019 Forever Tags:

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[sunkissedpages]

We’re Only Kidding Ourselves- Part Twelve || Tom Holland x Reader

A/N: sjadslikjdl it’s between teaser and full chapter length but I wanted to get it out before like 3am :/ 

Prompt: Enemies to lovers au (from @marvelellie‘s 1k writing challenge!!)

Summary: You work as a production assistant for the Spider-Man: Far From Home crew, or rather as Tom Holland’s handler. The two of you don’t get along very well to say the least, but you won’t quit and he can’t fire you so you’re stuck with each other.

Warnings: swearing, angst 

What I listened to while writing: Pray For The Wicked by Panic! At The Disco

Word Count: 1.5k

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven | Part Eight | Part Nine | Part Ten | Part Eleven

Tom’s lips were softer than you expected.Warmer too. For a fraction of a second you let yourself get lost in the kiss, closing your eyes and tilting your head ever so slightly. You even brought your hand up to his head and nearly let your fingers graze his curls before you remembered how pissed off you were at him.

You pulled back and pushed him away with a little more force than you intended, causing him to stumble backwards. “What the fuck was that, Tom?” you demanded, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand.

“I-I’m sorry,” he stuttered, already turning red. “I didn’t mean-“

“You what? Thought you could just shut me up by kissing me?”

“It sort of worked.”

It took everything in you not to backhand your boss into next year. “I’m putting my resignation in tomorrow morning,” you stated flatly and started walking ahead of him, despite not knowing what direction you were supposed to be headed.

“Wait, y/n,” he called after you. “I really am sorry!” When you didn’t turn back he jogged to catch up with you. You kept your pace and refused to look at him. “Please don’t quit, I’m begging you.”

You stopped again. “Why shouldn’t I? You obviously don’t respect me. And relax, Watts isn’t going to be that pissed at you.”

“It’s not just that!” he protested. You raised your eyebrows, waiting. “No one can do this job better than you.”

“You’re the one who said you didn’t need me.” 

“We both know that’s not true, though,” he admitted. “Please don’t leave.” You were surprised by how genuinely upset he looked. “Please.”

“...I’ll think about it,” you replied softly.

Tom relaxed visibly and started walking again. You trailed behind him now, lost in thought. Everything still felt fuzzy. You could still feel Tom’s lips on yours and you wondered if he could taste your rose flavored lip balm when he kissed you, if he knew you’d noticed his fingers brushing your hip, if he had sighed into it on accident, if he really wished he could take it back.

You watched him walk with his hands in his pockets and wished, for the first time ever, that you could go back to hating each other like you had a few weeks ago. Everything was easier when you couldn’t stand the sight of him. Now it was so much more complicated.

Tom really had to fuck everything up for you, didn’t he? You weren’t just thinking about quitting because he was an asshole, you were also worried that someone had seen him kiss you. If anyone found out, Marvel would make sure you never worked in the film industry ever again and you didn’t think you could handle that. You figured that at least if you quit before they fired you, maybe they wouldn’t get the chance to blacklist you.

Walking in to a mess of a hotel room only added to how overwhelmed you already were. Tom’s clothes and your dress from the night before were still on the floor in heaps. Clutter was everywhere. You stood helplessly in the middle of it all and felt tears well up in your eyes. They inevitably spilled over and began to run down your cheeks and you didn’t do anything to stop them. You’d reached a breaking point.

Tom turned his head at your sniffling, but didn’t move to comfort you. At least, not in a traditional manner. As if he could read your mind he began straightening the room up wordlessly, putting pillows back on the bed and clothes into suitcases. You joined him, stuffing things you weren’t even sure were yours into your suitcase until the floor was spotless. Once the room was clean you both sat on the floor, breathing hard, but not speaking.

Tom showered first, then you. You got ready for bed robotically, going through the motions without thinking about what you were doing. It wasn’t that late, but neither of you felt like being awake anymore. Without any discussion Tom took the armchair again while you climbed into bed alone.

The two of you hadn’t lain awake in silence for One Whole Night, but it was just as uncomfortable as it had been before, if not more. You could hear Tom’s steady breathing from beside you and wondered if he was still thinking about the kiss like you were. 

Part of you wanted to tell him to stop being ridiculous and just get into bed with you, but the other part of you understood why he hadn’t already. Ironically, he was even closer to you in the chair than he would have been on the bed since they were right next to each other. You could reach out and touch him if you wanted to.

At some point Tom drifted off, but you never did. You stared at the ceiling wondering what you should do. Stay? Go? Even if that kiss had meant nothing it could ruin everything just like that. Your dreams would be snatched out of reach in the blink of an eye.

You rolled over to look at Tom who was sleeping peacefully in the chair. You wondered if he was dreaming. You were jealous he was able to sleep at all.

Morning came, but you barely noticed because you were still lying on your back consumed with doubt. Your body was exhausted, but your mind hadn't let you rest for even a moment. The sunrise had slowly filled the room with light and you were sure it had been beautiful, but you hadn’t paid attention.

When Tom’s alarm went off you rolled over and shut your eyes and hoped he’d buy that you were sleeping. You weren’t ready to talk to him yet. He got up from the chair and started moving around the room quietly. You listened as he changed and brushed his teeth, getting ready to go to the gym, going about his routine as if nothing had happened. You heard the movements stop for a few seconds and thought he might be checking to make sure you hadn’t woken up, but you couldn’t tell. 

When he left, you rolled back over onto your back with a sigh. It was going to be a long day.

You were out of the room before Tom came back and made your way down to the lobby instead. You figured if you were going to avoid him you could at least take advantage of the continental breakfast. They had a waffle maker, but it didn’t work very well. It burned the edges while leaving the center gooey and under cooked. You still ate them anyway.

Nothing on twitter indicated that someone had seen you and Tom last night so you were in the clear- for now. You couldn’t even imagine what would happen if a picture of a girl in a yellow sweatshirt kissing Tom surfaced on the internet. Not only would you be fired, blacklisted, and probably sued, you would probably have to change your name and never show your face in public again.Your life would be over. Just the thought made you lose your appetite.

People had started gathering around the check-in desk, getting ready to go to set so you hurried and finished your breakfast so you wouldn’t look pathetic eating alone. You already sort of had that reputation anyway, there was no need to add to it. 

Tom was early this morning and everyone tried not to act surprised as he made the rounds and said his good-mornings before ending up next to you. You handed him a copy of the day’s schedule and he traded you a cup of coffee in return.

You sipped it and were surprised when it tasted perfect. “How did you-”

“I asked Haz,” he replied before you even finished the question. “So you’re staying?”

“I don’t know yet.”

“You didn’t sleep last night.”

You made a face. “Yes I did, what are you talking about?”

“You were faking this morning.”

“What are you talking about?”

“God it’s a good thing that I’m the one lying about sleeping around because you’re shit at it. And come on, you weren’t even snoring.”

You looked at him in horror. “I snore?”

Tom smirked. “Gotcha.”

“Oh fuck you!”

“I knew it!” he exclaimed, pointing a finger. 

“Just because I was faking this morning doesn’t mean I didn’t sleep at all.”

“But you didn’t, did you?” he asked, smile falling away to reveal a look of concern.

You brushed him off. “Doesn’t matter.”

He looked a little hurt. “It does matter. But if you don’t want to talk about it-”

“Tom, I could get fired,” you interrupted, finally saying what was really on your mind. He blinked in confusion, caught off guard. “You’re the one who said if anyone found out we were even sharing a room I’d be fired and blacklisted, and that’s without any proof of anything happening! What do you think would happen to me if anyone saw what happened last night?”

“What happened last night?” a familiar voice asked from behind you and you and Tom both whipped around to see Harrison standing there, eyebrow raised and jaw clenched. You were fucked.

It’s been...a week to say the least, sorry again that it’s so short. Imma try and make it up to y’all before next week :) Tom is still an asshole, what’s new lol. Anyway lmk what you think, I always appreciate feedback!!

Forever Tags: @mischiefmanaged49 @bookingbee @cloverrover @captainbuckyy @perhaps-he-schnapped @awkwardfangirl2014 @the-queen-procrastinator @tastingthestarz @sleepybesson @everythingbooknerd @sunshine96love @bitchymathematician @livingincompletesilence @melsbooktrash @swim-deep-or-die @fizzy828

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[thewritingstar]

Okay so the prompts used are (lol couldn't find the posts so yeah): @fairywithajetblackheart​ headcanon: Gray forgets their anniversary, @rieriebee​: request to continue the fic and Juvia doubting Grays love, she gave me a lot of ideas lol. 

WC #62

Prompts:^^^ Imma call this: The Anniversary to Remember

Pairing: Gruvia

This can be considered part two to this fic. This one is kinda long and im lowkey proud. I combined a few prompts as seen above. I hope you enjoy! And yes the famil fam fic will be coming soon I promise!!!

——-

No. It couldn't be. He didn't actually forget right? Juvia began to internally panic as Gray walked into their house yawning quietly. He had been gone all afternoon and only left her with a kiss on the head that morning. No flowers, no deep kisses, nothing!

“Hey Juv.” He hid a yawn behind his hand as he walked into the living room and flopped onto the couch. Her eyes were glued to him as she hugged the cup of tea to her chest while sitting in the comfy chair near the couch.

“Hello.” She responded and took a long sip of her tea.

“How was your day?” He asked but his voice was slightly muffled as he was facing down and letting his arms hang over the cushions. He looked absolutely adorable but Juvia held back. 

“Fine.” A one worded response came bitterly out of her lips. Anger and hurt consumed her as his head lifted up and his eyes met hers.

“Just fine? Did something happen?” he asked. Was he playing dumb?

“Nope. Nothing exciting at all. Just spent the day with the moms as our little ones played.” he could sense her tone changing and wondered if something actually happened. “But, Juvia was thinking Gray-sama and her could go to dinner. Since our little one is staying with Lucy and Natsu.”

Gray let out a groan. “Can’t we just stay inside?”

“Does Gray-sama have something planned?” She chirped.

“No”

That stung her heart and a frown formed on her face but he had rolled over so he didn’t see.“Then we are going to dinner and you need to wear a shirt.” She said and walked to their bedroom to get dressed.

“Fine.” He huffed.

“Still don’t know why you dressed up all fancy. I mean you looking smoking babe but it's just dinner.” Gray said as he opened the door to the restaurant. Juvia smiled small at the complement and made sure to step out with her right leg to let the slit in her dress exposure it. She knew it was Grays weakness and she smiled bright as he raked his eyes up and down as she walked past him. But her smile disappeared when he couldn’t see her face.

“Just dinner.’’ she grumbled to herself and they sat at the table Juvia had reserved and a small candle and rose was placed at the end.

The waiter came over and didn’t hide his liking for Juvia as he took her order. She laughed at him and even touched his arm, gaining the attention of Gray.

“What was that?” Gray asked and Juvia just shrugged and sipped at her glass of wine.

“Juvia doesn't know what Gray-sama is talking about.”

He glared at her and rolled his eyes. “Alright Juvia. What is it?” He asked.

“Nothing.” She let her eyes wander around the restaurant and Gray became annoyed. Her eyes were always on him. Call him selfish but he loved nothing more than having those bright blue eyes all to himself. Usually they would be engaging in a small game of footsies under the table but those long legs were kept to her side. 

“Are you mad at me?” He asked and her eyelashes batted innocently. 

“Why would Juvia be mad. Does Juvia have a reason to be upset?” Her blue eyes pierced through his.

He paused and thought for a few moment. This is it.

“Not that I can think of.”

“Then I guess Juvia isn’t upset.” She gave him a forced smile and was glad when her plate was set in front of her. Before he could respond, she dug into her food and he followed, keeping an eye on her as he knew something was up.

Throughout dinner they had light conversation and it irked Gray a lot. Usually they chatted non stop and sometimes stayed later than they should. Juvia took her last bite of the cake and let Gray finish the rest, she knew he loved it.

Slowly she placed a small velvet box on the table and slid it towards him. He wiped his face with a napkin and furrowed his eyebrows at the sight.

“What's this?” he asked and she motion for him to open it. He picked it up and his eyes widened when a chain with silver cross was inside.

“Juvia knows how upset you were when you lost it. It's not the original but she hopes it will do.” The soft smile he loved was on her face and for the first time that night her usual self returned.

“Wow. Juvia I love it. But what is it for? Why today.” He asked and her face fell.

“Gray-sama.” she whispered. “Please tell Juvia you are kidding. Please tell her you didn’t forget.” He could hear her voice break and his blood ran cold. Like a slap to the face he realized.

“I forgot-”

“-Our anniversary.” She finished and he could hear the rain start to fall outside.

“Juvia I am so sorry.” He tried to grab her hand but she pulled back. Hurt was written all over her face and her lower lip pouted out.

“Juvia isn’t mad that you forget all of the small ones she's created but she thought you would at least remember the one you made. The most important one.” She stood up and grabbed her purse and stormed out of the restaurant.

Gray quickly stood and chased after her, not caring about all the bad looks he received from the other customers. He saw her up ahead and knew her heels couldn’t out walk him.

“Juvia!” he called after her but she didn’t bother to turn around. The rain fell heavily on them as she continued to walk further from him and ignored all of his calls.

“Damn it Juvia. Ice make wall!” And she stopped in her tracks as his magic formed a wall in front of her. She was about to use her magic, her arm went into the air as the rain poured down but his hand caught her and pulled her to his chest. “Juvia please.” He pleaded and she let out a sob.

He could feel her body shivering against his and regret punched him in the gut. Her curled blue locks unraveled as the rain poured down and his hair stuck to his face. 

“Please Juvia.” He whispered. She shook her head and her hand went to cover her sobs. The rain coming down was ice cold, cold like her heart at the moment. 

“Sometimes Juvia thinks you only married her because of the baby.” The truth had slipped out and both of them froze. His hand let go of her wrist but he kept her back pressed to his chest.

“You do?” his voice was quiet and he didn’t trust it. 

“Sometimes Juvia feels like you love her because you have to, like you are trapped. And if our son wasn't born-” Her voice cracked. “You wouldn’t be with Juvia.”

She turned and saw the hurt in her eyes and she instantly regretted it. She didn’t want him to think she had doubts but it had become to much for her. 

His grip loosened and he took a step back. The rain fell between them. “But Juvia is just being silly.” She turned around and hugged herself while walking past him. “Lets just go home.”

He was silent and didn’t move. Tears pricked his eyes and for once he didn’t care about showing emotion. He had to vulnerable he knew that, but he didn’t think it would take a toll on her. It wasn’t fair and now the woman who loved him unconditionally was having doubts because of him.

“Juvia.”

“Gray-sama its fine really-” She turned around to face him and a confused look was on her face.

He was down on one knee, the rain pelting him but he didn’t care. A small black box was in his hand and a ring with a giant blue diamond was placed inside.

“I didn’t forget our anniversary Juvia, I thought it was tomorrow.” His head hung low like a kid being caught doing something wrong.

“I am sorry. I should have known, it was an honest mistake. But.” His eyes met hers and a emotion he rarely showed was seen in his eyes. “ I didn’t marry you because of our child. Yes he might have pushed our relationship forward but that doesn’t mean I love you any less. I have never once felt trapped and would rather die today knowing that you know I love you then live every single day thinking you didn’t. Juvia I know I am not the most affectionate and I can work on that, No I have to because it’s not fair. It’s not fair that I get to hide in my shell pushing you away when all you do is love me for who I am. I don’t even know why I’m scared. I know you’ll never leave me and I won’t leave you. I didn’t marry you because you had my child. I didn’t marry you because I had to be a father. I married you because I am deeply and utterly in love you.”

“Gray,” she placed her hand in his. “It’s okay. An honest mistake. Juvia is sorry for overreacting.”

He shook his head. “You had every right. It just breaks my heart that you think I don’t love you and maybe I haven’t show it enough. You should be the only one sacrificing something. I need to be the man you love, not some pathetic boy who can’t tell his wife that he loves her in public because he’s afraid someone will hear.” 

“Juvia doesn’t think you are pathetic. Gray-sama processes emotions different than Juvia, she understands that and shes sorry she made you-” 

He put his hand up to stop her. Stepping forward he cupped her face softly and the blue eyes he loved shined back. 

“You didn’t make me do anything Juvia. I never want you to doubt my love for you again. You told me how you felt and I can’t blame you for feeling like that. I am deeply sorry. I know how much these mean to you, small or not, you never had a chance to share them with someone and I’ve neglected those feelings. I love you too much to let you cry again because of me.” 

“Juvia forgives you. She always will.” 

“I love you so much.” She didn’t have a chance to respond as his lips took her softly. Slowly the cold rain warmed. The warm drops flt good against their skin as they shared their moment in the rain. 

“I love you too.” She smiled against his lips and kissed him again. 

——

“Silver? Are you okay?” Lucy asked as the Fullbuster child stood outside. His hand was stretched out as he let the rain hit his fingers.

He turned around and smiled softly to his aunt.

“Yeah, mommy is okay now.” He ran back inside to play with his pink haired cousin.

Lucy smiled and held her hand out. He was right. The rain felt warm and it made her oddly happy.

——

“Good morning.” Gray said as he hugged Juvia to his chest. Juvia looked up and deeply blushed at the remembrance of last nights bedroom activities. “I called Lucy and she said she’ll keep our little one for the day.” 

“What for?” Juvia yawned and snuggled closer to him. 

“For our anniversary of course. I’m not going to let my planning go to waste, plus.” He tilted her chin up and placed a kiss to her lips. “I saw something in the closet that should have been used yesterday.” he winked and her blush deepened. 

“So bold Gray-sama.” Juvia giggled. 

“You deserve a proper anniversary treatment and even if its a day late, its going to be amazing.” He said as he covered her face with kisses. 

--

Gray wasn’t kidding when he said he had a romantic day planned. The morning was spent laying lazily in bed while moans escaped both of their lips and after that a warm and sensational bath was shared. 

Juvia even used her magic to make the water dance and laughed when his face lit up like a toddler. 

Speaking of toddlers, Gray thought if their little boy saw them all cuddly and sweet, he would die from embarrassment. 

Night time came and as promised, dinner reservations were made. She wore a long navy blue dressed and even he was dressed fancy. A suit and tie hung around his neck and Juvia was practically drooling at her handsome husband. 

Their dinner was filled with footsies and laughs and not once did their eyes leave each other. The world felt balanced and everything was perfect. 

“Thank you Gray.” Juvia said as her giggle settled. “This was the perfect day from a perfect man.” 

“I’m no where near perfect” 

“Well to Juvia you are and nothing will change that.” 

“This day wound’t be possible unless you married me and I thank you for that.” 

“Gray-sama also married Juvia.” 

“That I did.” He smiled and kissed her hand gently. 

She blushed at the small gesture but it felt incredible to feel loved. She picked up her wine glass and blew a kiss his way. 

“Happy anniversary my love.” 

“Happy anniversary Juvia.” They clinked their glasses together. 

“Do you wanna get dessert?” 

“That’s up to you.” She smiled and he felt her foot travel up his leg slightly. as she leaned forward and whispered loud enough for him to hear. “Juvia just wants her love to know that shes wearing the gift he saw.” She winked and he quickly downed the rest of his wine and snapped his fingers in the air. 

“Check please!” 

---

I hope you all enjoyed!

[shu-of-the-wind]

"“If you kill them, you’d better kill me too, because otherwise I’m going to kill you.”" imma going to ask for this prompt for anything.

Sorry, bb, but Mass Effect: Andromeda is killing me right now, and that means it’s Ryder/Vetra nonsense whoops.

CW for: kidnap, assault, involuntary drug usage. 

It had been a simple op, at first. A trader on Kadara, dealing in patches for rem-tech. Something Peebee had needed, Vetra thinks, and it had irked her to ask, it had been obvious in how she’d bounced during the asking. Hate to say it, but I can’t do everything, y’know? Great minds think alike. Isn’t that what humans say? They’d made the pass-off easy, and in good time, Ryder nudging her in the arm in the middle of the Kadara marketplace to point out weapons mods that might be good for Drack’s shotgun, and then–

Her mind’s rippling like sunlight on Palaven.

A gas attack? It’d have to be modified to work on both levo and dextro beings, to knock them both out, because when she blinks and blinks again there’s Ryder tossed into the corner of the storage room they’re bound in, still unconscious, hair falling over her cheek. Something else? A flashbang, maybe, she remembers a bright light, but after that–

“You’re awake.” It’s a voice over comms. Not flanged, so probably not turian. Not accented like an angara, either. Not one she recognizes. “About time you woke up, Nyx.” 

Vetra yanks her feet up under her as best she can, her spurs catching on the floor. They’ve taken her armor, and her visor. Omnitool, too. Nothing in sight. Her mandibles flare in spite of herself. “What do you want from us?” 

“Please.” A sigh turns the commlink to static. “You’re not that important, Queen Quartermaster.”

No, but Ryder is. Small Ryder, vulnerable Ryder, without her armor and her weapons. Vetra twists her wrists, carefully. She’s not tied down. She could wriggle over to Ryder, if she tried. What did they do to shut down her biotics? If they’d taken then implant, then SAM–

“Relax,” says the voice. “You’re not going to die, yet.” 

“What do you want?”

“Like I said,” says the voice. “Relax. We’ll keep you alive until delivery. It’s the Bloodrunner who will decide what to do with you after that.” 

Turians don’t faint, really. They’re biologically incapable of it. There’s still something musty and grey creeping in around the edges of her vision, something tacky and raw in her gut. Bloodrunner. The Bloodrunner. But there’s no way she could have joined the Initiative, there’s no way she would have made it past the background checks–

The same way you couldn’t make it past the background check? says a little voice in her head. It sounds like Cora, aggravatingly enough. Stop being stupid, Vetra. Keep them talking, whoever they are. If they’re chatty enough–or arrogant enough–to tell her this much, maybe they’ll let something else slip. 

“The Bloodrunner’s dead,” says Vetra. Her voice steadies. “She’s been dead for six hundred years.”

“Then I’m getting one hell of a payout from a ghost.” 

“I–” 

There’s a whimper from the corner. Ryder, curling. Her knees draw up close to her chest. There’s a tang to her sweat that’s not normal, metallic, somehow, and when Vetra shuffles closer, reaches out with gloved, bound hands, she’s shivering. Her teeth grit hard enough to crack, and her lashes flutter, and Vetra leaves her palm on Ryder’s shoulder, curls her fingers too tight for human skin to handle. Spirits, no. “Ryder.” 

“Good luck waking her up,” says the voice absently. 

“What did you do to her?” Vetra says, and this time there’s a crackle, deep in her subvocals. A break in the hum. Don’t be dead, don’t be dead. Please don’t be dead, please don’t, Sara, I need you to be here, please– “What did you do?”

“Just knocked her out. She’ll wake up fine, unless I gave her too much. Bloodrunner only specified that she wanted you alive, anyway.” 

If they knocked her out–Her implant is still there, gleaming through her choppy hair. Vetra doesn’t relax. Even if the implant is still there, who knows how functional SAM is at the moment. “If you’ve killed her, you’d better shoot me now, because as soon as I get out of this I’m going to kill you for it.”   

“That’s cute,” says the voice, and then there’s a rumble. Ship. We’re in a ship. “Better hold on to something. It’s gonna be a long ride.”

[mummabear7984]

The story with no name :-)

So it's my first post....as a writer.hope you like it. Part 1 Curled up in a corner you are in a world of your own, Pain threading itself through every muscle and vein. It was a hard battle but you have won. Its been weeks of training for this final meeting with the one that can end it all. But you won…Or did you? Then just before you pass out you see a blur of colours coming towards you and you can feel yourself floating off the ground. You feel heavy and you know that you have just become as vulnerable as you can be, albeit not willingly.   Several hours later although it feels like you have been sleeping for days you wake up. You can hear a noise from another room and then you suddenly take a look around. The room is a deep shade of green, some may say an almost British Racing Green, and its bare but homely. There’s a soft blanket thrown over you and you notice you don’t have your boots on…. or socks. You slowly pull yourself up so you’re sitting and have a better look. You can feel a throbbing in your head so you decide to make your way towards the noise. Your bare feet make a pat, pat, pat sound on the floor as you walk towards the noise. It sounds like 2 or more people are talking. One has a raised voice and the other is trying to calm him down. At first you don’t recognise the voice and then it clicks…. The brothers and Castiel. ‘She almost died out there Sammy!!’ You hear and then a response. ‘I know Dean but that wasn’t suppose to happen’ Sam answers back sounding exasperated ‘She wasn’t meant to get hurt’   You look down and realise your shirt is open and you have a blood soaked bandage round your waist. It looks like the bleeding has stopped so you walk in to the room. The room the guys are in is what look to be a library of sorts. Its walls are lined with shelves and shelves of books on lore and spells, on some shelves are scary looking weapons and the occasional box with a symbol or writing on it. You suddenly realise you have three sets of eyes staring at you as Dean calmly walks over and Sam gives you a look that could make puppy dogs cry. Cas is standing a little behind the other two looking concerned with his blue tie hanging off his neck like its been pulled in stress and his hair is sticking up all over. ‘How’re you feeling sweetheart?’ Dean asks ‘Thought we were going to loose you. I found you just as you passed out and bought you back here’ He informs you. ‘Look, I’m real sorry you got hurt’ Says Sam warily after a look that could kill from Dean prompting him ‘How’s the wound?’ Cas then walks over and takes your arm walking you over to a big comfortable seat and tells you to lie back as much as you can ‘Now you have recovered and I have my grace back I can try to heal what’s left of the damage’ He informs you. ‘We thought that you were going to die’ He says in his all too blunt Cas kind of way. He removes the bandage and you can see a rather red, raw looking bullet wound and you feel a bit sick. Cas passes his hand over your stomach and a blue glow radiates from the wound. You look again and your stomach is back to its normal, too pale colour with a splash of dried blood. ‘Thanks’ You say to Cas with a smile ‘Now I feel much better’ Cas gives you a shy smile and walks out the room saying something about ‘a glass of water’   ‘Cas!’ Says Dean looking at his back ‘What he means is it was a very close call considering you weren’t meant to get hurt at all’ After throwing another glare at Sam, he calms down. He puts his hand on your shoulder and helps you up from the chair.     It’s a few hours later and you finally managed to wash the dried blood left over from the wound away along with most of the memories of the day before. Your towel drying your hair and you hear a subtle knock at your bedroom door. ‘Ok if I come in?’ You hear Dean ask from the other side as he slowly opens the door  ‘Of course, its your bunker not mine, although now I have my own room complete with hairdryer I’m tempted to stay!’ You giggle and Dean smiles a kind of wistful smile, his eyes crinkling at the edges. ‘Your welcome to stay as long as you want kid, your always welcome’  He walks over and gives you a body crushing hug and you breathe in his scent, smelling a woody, clean kind of scent.  ‘You finally showered then?’ You ask ‘you stank!’ You inform him with a smirk.  ‘Hey I can throw you out as quickly as I can invite you to stay kiddo, don’t forget that’ You know he’s only kidding from the look in his eyes and your glad things seemed to have settled with him now he knows your feeling back to your old self, after the healing from Cas has done its job. ‘Look, Don’t blame Sammy ok?’ You tell him with a serious glint in your eyes ‘I should have stayed in the Impala; it was my own fault for thinking I could actually be any help. You two are like my big brothers, I hate you fighting’ Deans green eyes flash as he gets a short lecture from you but he looks down at his feet and then through his eyelashes he answers ‘I know but you weren’t even meant to come, we almost lost you and I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if you got killed on our watch’ You see his eyes are a little watery as he looks up and you know how deeply he cares for you. ‘Dean, Its ok, I’m fine. Look, no wound even…. thanks to Cas.’ You lift your shirt and show your blood free stomach to him. Dean runs his finger over where the wound was as if to make sure it had gone and you pull your shirt back down. ‘Honestly I’m fine’ You look at Dean and he smiles ‘Cas was really worried about you, He was worried he wouldn’t be able to save you and he was in pieces. He really cares about you’ He adds with a wink. What’s that supposed to mean? Suddenly you hear a rumble and you look down at your stomach ‘Dean, I need feeding like now or I’m going to go nuts. I could use a beer too. You know, to calm my nerves’ You grin. Deans laughs and answers back ‘Sounds like a plan, lets get Sammy and Cas and hit the diner I saw back down the road, Its Tuesday, imma have me some Pig in a Poke ‘ You walk out your room tying your hair in a ponytail as you go. Grab your jacket from the back of the desk chair and follow Dean down the corridor. ‘When we’re back I want a full on tour of this place, its freaking amazing’ You exclaim. ‘Deal’ Says Dean as you enter the kitchen to find Sam waiting. You give Sam a big grin and hug him. He’s much taller and a slimmer build to hug but he smells just like Dean with an added hint of citrus. It takes a moment for him to realise you walked over for a hug not anything else and he wraps his arms round you kissing your forehead and whispering ‘I’m so glad your ok’   Cas comes wandering into the kitchen just as you walk out of Sam’s embrace and you see a flash of something in his eyes. ‘Everything ok Cas?’ You ask concerned. ‘Yes, I am just looking forward to going to the Diner’ He answers in a very emotionless voice. ‘Ill meet you all in the garage’ and he walks out of the kitchen and turns left. You look at Dean and Sam and they just shrug. ‘Did he not want to fix me with his grace?’ You ask worried. ‘I just think he may be feeling left out of the hugathon’ Replied a smirking Dean. ‘Lets go get some food, I’m hungry’ ’you’re always hungry Dean’ Said Sam laughing at his big brother. ‘Damn right Sammy’   The drive to the Diner was a little awkward with sitting next to Cas in the backseat of Baby and not knowing what you’ve done wrong. But when you grabbed his hand and gave it a squeeze to let him know you were grateful for him saving your life, he finally smiled at you and squeezed it back. A feeling of warmth spread over you when he did and you felt a little hot under the collar. Where was that coming from? You’ve never been like this round Castiel before….   You get to the diner and as your shown to a booth Dean pushes you down so your sat next to Cas. But he pushes you so hard that as you fall Cas catches you and you blush. ‘So sorry Cas’ You stutter. ‘I don’t mind catching you when you fall’ Cas says as he stands you back up on your feet. How have you never noticed how blue his eyes are and how long his eyelashes are? Have they always looked like that? And the small freckles just dusting the bridge of his nose. Dammit what is going on?   After the weirdness at the diner you all return back to the bunker and Dean does the tour. Your pleased to find he has allocated you a bathroom to yourself ‘so you can leave girl stuff lying around and have privacy in the shower’ which makes you laugh…girl stuff! You head back to your room to find a bag of gummy bears on your bed and a note from Cas saying ‘I thought you may enjoy these. I hear after a traumatic time humans like sugar. Sam informed me of this and suggested they would be a perfect gift’ Typical Cas you think and your stomach does a small flutter. You realise that all through dinner Sam and Dean were making comments about you and Cas being all weird around each other but obviously in the subtle Winchester way they are so good at. Yeah right! You hate this feeling of the unknown and after Cas reciprocating the hand thing in the back of the impala you decide you need to speak to him. After another beer…. Just to keep your nerves at bay and a little Dutch courage never does anyone any harm right?   You head back to the kitchen to find Sam taking a bowl of Popcorn from the microwave and he tells you that Cas and Dean are waiting in the ‘family room’ for a movie night. You grab a few beers and walk with Sam down to the room. As you walk in you see Dean with a huge grin on his face as he moves off the 2 seater sofa and into a single chair. Sam almost runs into the other single chair leaving the only space empty on the sofa next to Cas. He pats the seat next to him and you hand dean and Sam a beer as you drop to the sofa curling your legs underneath you. You twist open the beer and throw the lid at Dean slowly catching on that they did this seating arrangement on purpose. He winks back at you and presses play on the remote. The movie starts and it was obviously one that Dean picked as its all about guns, some form of Japanese martial art and boobs. After about half an hour you feel Cas stretch out and lay his arm behind you on the back of the sofa. You look to Sam and he smiles at you then turns back to the film. Castiel moves around on the sofa and makes himself more comfortable but in doing so ends up with his hand on your hand in between the two of you on the sofa. You curl your fingers around his and subtly lean against him a little. He manoeuvres so you are leaning into the crook of his arm and you snuggle down into the smell of Cas, which incase your wondering is like cinnamon rolls that have just come out of the oven, You’ve never felt like this before but suddenly he’s not just Cas he’s Cas…Your Cas. You wake up and find the room is quiet and its just you and Cas snuggled on the sofa. Sam and Dean have gone and the TV is on a vetinary programme, currently showing a wee tabby kitten with huge ears and beautiful green eyes. Cas looks down at you and says in the Cas way he does ‘I like cats, I find them very cute and the fur is so soft, plus they have amazing stories to tell’ You laugh softly and Cas looks down at you his piercing blue eyes looking into yours and he says very quietly, almost nervous like ‘I like you, not just like a sister’. Your heart leaps.

[sammy-moo]

Dreaming Alone

Characters: Sam x Reader, Dean, mentions of reader’s new boyfriend

Prompt: Day Eight, a song that you know all the words to

Words: 1,675

Warnings: Angst, abuse, blood

A/N: Flashbacks will be in italics! If you want to be tagged let me know!

Days while on the road aren’t always the best or easiest. Some hunts go weary and end up in a loss of blood. But saving the lives of those in need are what makes it worth while. Killing what goes bump in the night seems to make the world a little more peaceful. Even on the good days it’s still a struggle. And Dean has noticed. 

Dean has noticed for the past few months how hard it’s been for Sam. Getting up in the morning is a struggle, having an appetite has been slim; and even when he is fully focused on the hunt, he still seems to be off. 

It had been months since he let you go. He’d show up to your place bloody and bruised from hunts. He’d even run to you just to stop by to see you. 

It all started when you moved into your house. There was an item left behind and a vengeful spirit had gotten out of control. Since then you’d kept in contact with the younger Winchester. 

Never did either of you expect to feel the way that you did. To say you fell hard was a complete understatement… 

It didn’t take long for the random visits to become more planned.  

After awhile Sam had talked with Dean about you joining. 

“Please at least think about it Dean? I’ve told her everything there is to know. I’ve taught her all that I could. Please, I’m begging you." 

Dean let out a sigh, "Alright, alright! Fine. I’ll think it over…. But you seriously need to think this through Sammy. She could slow us down. She could be used as leverage…. Hell she might even get hurt or die… Are you really ready to take those chances?" 

Sam’s shoulders dropped at the mention of dying. Worry set into his mind as he took a slow breath, "I- I am… I love her Dean…. I want to protect her and not be out worrying whether something will hunt her down or not. I’d rather her be by my side." 

Dean caved from the practical puppy face on his younger brother, "Then go get her." 

The hunting life with the two was going well. They taught you how to fight, use any weapon, and even how to clean the guns. 

Two had become three. Dean and Sam no longer had themsevles and each other to worry about. They had you as well. Which meant thrice the patching up. 

But with another person, came more opinions and more stubborness. It was far more difficult when all three of you were firm believers in what you supported. Which caused either two or all three of you to buttheads. Arguments would happen and you’d all seperate. Even on the occasion, you’d all split off your own way. Sometimes you’d be with Sam, other’s you wouldn’t. 

Even though it wasn’t the perfect relationship or even a ‘storybook’ romance, the two of you made it work.

However, everything that starts must have an end; whether it’s good or bad. And sadly the story that all started with Sam, also ends the same. 

Sam thought he was ready and could handle anything that happened with you being a hunter, but boy was he wrong. When your life was put in danger he had to put an end to it. 

Sam and Dean were quick to your aid. You were tied to a chair slumped over from the pain, and your breathing was slowed. The ghoul was making cuts to drain your blood out. 

Sam growled and was about to shoot the ghoul when the other one hit him in the back of the head. Dean reacted quickly fighting the ghoul. It had knocked his gun away, and he was left fist fighting until he could get his gun or even anything to damage the head. Sam struggled to his feet and pulled his knife out, going straight for the ghoul behind you. However the ghoul used it’s knife and pressed it to your neck. 

"Make another move and she will be gone." 

Sam gulped thickly as he froze. He slowly put the knife down liked the ghoul asked, eyes glued to your weak form. 

Dean had luckily got his gun back and shot the second ghoul. The one with the knife told Dean to slide his gun towards him. Dean had no other choice but to oblige to his orders. The gun gently thumped the chair leg by your foot. The ghoul slowly reached down to grab it, but Sam was quicker. He shot the ghoul in the head, but the ghoul knew what he was doing. Luckily the knife barely grazed your skin. 

Sam quickly tore his shirt off and used his knife to cut up the fabric into strips. He then used them to apply pressure to your wounds. He then pressed his hand gently to the small nick on your neck to help stop the small amout of blood. You had already lost enough and he didn’t want even this small cut to be your end. 

He worked quickly as his hands shook; once he inspected his work, and made sure he didn’t miss anything he cupped your face. 

"Y/N? Hey…" 

Sam gently patted your cheek. He frowned as he looked at your now blood covered face. 

"Dean…. Her breathing is really slow…." 

Dean hurried over and helped Sam get you cut from the chair. Sam was about to lift you up but Dean stopped him. 

He could see how badly he was shaking, so he carried you in Sam’s place. 

They hurried you to the nearest hospital so you could get a transfusion. 

Sam had convinced Dean it was best for you to leave the hunter’s life. And the only way for you to leave and be free was for Sam to end things with you. They decided to leave your bag in the room and Sam wrote you a note. 

When you woke and read the note, you immediately called Sam. It resulted in a huge argument, and that was the last time you ever spoke to Sam. 

After you were released from the hospital you went to the closest motel. 

The first few nights had been rough, but then you met another out at the grocery store. It was a stereotypical, book romance. He convinced you to move in with him to get you out of the motel. And while you truly didn’t believe in taking things that quickly, you agreed. It had been a pretty eventful month and the two of you already knew so much. He helped you through the rough nights when you missed Sam. You even told yourself that you could grow to love this man. 

You enjoyed being away from the slummy motel and in his place. And the second month went almost as smoothly. 

But the third month turned into hell. You felt like your life turned upside even more if it were possible. The once caring shoulder to cry on was no longer gentle. He began to yell at you. 

He’d scream at the top of his lungs that you 'needed to move on, that you were together.’ But he clearly didn’t understand. Even if you had felt somewhat happy you couldn’t easily forget Sam. 

He was a part of you and you felt like you saw him everywhere. You even saw him in your dreams. Part of you began to wish that your boyfriend was Sam. That Sam would knock on your door and fix everything. But it was all just a part of your dreams. 

Then the screaming had escalated. Soon he began to lay his hands on you. It started with squeezing your shoulders and shaking you in fits of anger. Then he started shoving you, slapping you, hitting you, kicking you, and even using whatever was in his hands to strike you. 

Sometimes it was drink glasses, plates, and one time it had even been a piece of sink piping. 

You no longer slept in a bed. 

You were left to the floor of whatever room you were knocked down in. Tears had ran down your face as bruises formed. 

Today wasn’t any different. You were curled up in the living room floor sobbing, craddling your broken hand that should be healing. Instead, he made it worse. 

You would leave, but you fear what would happen. You even fear what would happen if you called the police. 

Simultaneously, while you were sobbing on the floor, Sam returned to the bunker with Dean. 

About a month ago they came across it. 

However, it was an adjustment for Sam having his own room. For him, it was nice not having to share a room with Dean. It gave him the freedom to lay in his bed and stare at the cieling. 

Sam let out a worn out sigh as tears began to form. He quickly wiped them away and closed his eyes. 

All he could see and think about was you. He longed to feel your soft locks of hair under his finger tips as he brushed a stray piece behind your ear. He yearned to feel your soft lips pressed to his, and hear a gentle sigh escape your form as he brought you closer. All he could smell when he closed his eyes was your peach shampoo. All he could feel was your cold feet pressed to him and your gently breathing. 

Sam pulled his phone out and looked at the screen. Every part of him wanted to find you and track you down. Knock on whatever door you were at and kiss you. He wanted you back, but you were free from the suffering and pain. Or at least he thought. That he could hope. 

But even with the urge to find you, he knew this was best for. 

He closed his hazel eyes again. 

You cried and closed your eyes tightly.

The two of you began to fall asleep, dreaming the same dream. 

Tagging: @sleepywinchester, @kinkystevesgirl, @timeforsmut, @goldenangelbloodcastiel, @because-imma-lady-assface, @growningupgeek, @keelzythe2nd

[sammy-moo]

Come Together

Characters: Sam x Reader, Dean, Cas

Prompt: Day Seven, a song that reminds you of a certain event

Words: 1,022

Warnings: Does Satan’s wicked tea party count?

A/N: I’m cramping and dying and cuddled my Sam pillow all day. I really want Sam cuddles so enjoy the fluffy floos. If you want to be tagged let me know!

It should've been a day you looked forward to. You all were taking the night off to have a movie night. It was something that first started between Sam and Dean, and then you and Cas joined. 

Sadly, your good mood and excitement had gone through the window. You woke up in a crabby mood as your uterus began to cramp up. It seemed that Satan had decided to stop by and throw a mad rave party inside of your womb. 

So you spent a majority of the day lazing around the bunker and took a hot shower in hopes to ease the cramps. 

By the time five o'clock rolled around you wanted nothing to do with movie night. 

Sam, Dean, and Cas on the other hand were really looking forward to it. They spent most of their day busy around the bunker. 

Sam had woke up early to work out and make breakfast. When Dean woke up they both had breakfast before Dean went to wash Baby up and fix her up. Sam decided to tackle the library. It had been a mess from the latest hunt. Books were scattered along with papers all over the tables. 

Meanwhile Cas was out doing a run, finding snacks for later. 

Sam and Dean picked out their movie choices for the night. Cas was still trying to decide when Sam came to the room. 

"Hey, come pick your movie," Sam frowned when he saw you curled up in bed, "What's wrong?" 

"Satan and stupid rave parties.... Stupid uterus. Can I just cut it out? I'll clean the knife when I'm done." 

Sam chuckled and approached the bed, "No we can't do that. I'd rather not lose you to your failed attempt at surgery on yourself." 

You glared up at him from your cocoon under the blanket. 

Sam smiled even more and removed the covers. As soon as the draft hit you, you whacked him with the stuffed alpaca that had been hidden in your arms. 

"Ah! Hey! No, put the alpaca down!" 

"It's cold in here Sam!" 

Sam hummed in thought and stood up. He quickly took off his shirt and tossed it at you. He grabbed another shirt so Dean wouldn't complain. 

You smiled a bit and switched your shirt out for his, humming happily when his scent hit your nose. It was woodsy and musky- it was pure Sam. You could feel your heart beating against your chest, the pounding intensified when he lifted you up into his warm embrace. 

"But my cocoon!" 

Sam chuckled and effortlessly took you to the room you'd all be watching the movies. 

Dean smiled when Sam brought you into the room, "About time! Y/N, pick a movie!" 

Cas hummed and finally pulled his choice out. 

Sam looked to the snacks on the table and frowned, "Cas did you forget the sour candy?" 

Cas looked to the table and scowled, "I guess I did...." 

"It's okay," you mumbled out. 

Sam shook his head and set you into the chair, "I'll run out and--" 

"No." 

Sam gave you a look, "Are you sure?" 

"Right now I just wanna curl up and die so I'm sure. Just hold me please?" 

Cas frowned, "Why would you want to die? You humans have so much to live for and life is so amazing." 

"Cas I'm gonna stop you right there. I don't mean literally." 

Cas tilted his head, "Then what do you mean?" 

Sam chuckled and joined you in the seat. You adjusted so you were relaxed in his lap. 

"She's on her period Cas," Dean said simply. "Which means she's probably gonna pick a sappy, lovey dovey movie." 

You rolled your eyes, "Actually you're wrong. You're doing that for me. Cas, that movie right there." 

You pointed to one on the shelf. Cas reached for it. 

"This one?" 

You nodded and he pulled it out, "That's my choice." 

Dean hummed, "Well since you're.... doing your thing, your's can go last." 

Sam rolled his eyes and noticed you balling your hand up into a fist. 

Cas put in Sam's movie and then looked to the table, "I'll be back." 

"Where are you- or not," sighed Dean. 

Cas already left and quickly returned with sour straws. He dropped them into your lap and then took his seat. 

You smiled happily, "Thanks Cas." 

Dean grabbed his snacks and then groaned at Sam's movie choice, "A cheesy horror film really?" 

"Yeah! It's a classic!" 

"If I wanted to watch a classic horror movie I'd strap you to that chair and put on It." 

Sam stiffened up and gulped a bit. 

You kissed his temple and opened your candy, your mood improving a bit. 

You weren't the normal type to crave something sweet like chocolate. Instead, you wanted something sour like shockers or even on the occasion you'd want Twizzlers. 

You focused your attention on Sam's horror movie choice as you nibbled on your candy. 

Sam hummed a bit and kissed your head before 'sneakily' taking a piece. 

You smiled as he ate the piece, trying to make sure you wouldn't kill him for touching it. 

Another wave of cramps hit, causing you to whimper. 

Sam frowned a bit and pushed the shirt up, exposing your stomach. He began to rub your stomach where the hem of your underwear sat. 

You leaned into him more, a soft sigh escaping your lips. 

Sam smiled and kissed your head as he countinued to soothe your cramps. He then pushed his left hand into your hair.

He began to gently massage your scalp with the pads of his fingers and rake them through your hair. 

Within hours the movie choices were all went through. Dean had left for his room and Cas left to do his angel thing. 

You and Sam were still curled up in the chair. His arm was draped over your small frame, his hazel eyes staring directly into you eyes, a dopey smile across his face. 

"What?" 

"I just love you." 

You smiled, "I love you too Sam." 

Sam nuzzled you gently, "Maybe one day I'll be rubbing your swollen stomach." 

Tagging: @sleepywinchester, @kinkystevesgirl, @timeforsmut, @goldenangelbloodcastiel, @because-imma-lady-assface, @growningupgeek, @keelzythe2nd