and he needs a break from being everyone else's shoulder so someone can ask him how he's feeling

Tonight, The Focus is on You

Summary: It’s late at night and in the midst of getting yourself a cup of tea you hear Bucky making some mysterious noises in his room.

Warnings: smutty smut, masturbation, fluffish, Sergeant kink, metal hand kink

A/N: I’m sitting at my kitchen table writing this and I can wholeheartedly say that writing has taken over my life and I love it. I’ve had to awkwardly click off this page so many goddamn times because my family keeps walking behind me and guys it’s so uncomfortable.


You picked up your cup of tea and strutted down the hallway. You were wide awake, another nightmare had plagued your dreams and woken you up panting. You hoped the cup of tea in your hand would soothe you, stopping your body from shaking, and help you fall back to sleep.

You slowed down as you passed by each door, not wanting to wake up anyone up. You stopped outside of Bucky’s, tempted to go inside. You wondered if he was awake, if he’d hold you and listen to the details of your nightmare. You nearly dropped your cup when you heard the faintest moan through the door.

Shit!” The word slipped passed Bucky’s lips, it was barely audible through the thick wood keeping you out. You pressed your ear too the door, desperate to hear more. “It feels so good, fuck…” Another moan left him as you heard him drop down onto his mattress.

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Night Drive

Summary: In which you help Bucky combat a sleepless night by going on a night drive.

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 2,366

A/N: Oh hey, it’s me. I guess I’m back.

Originally posted by krisletang

The screaming starts late that night. Or maybe it starts early that morning; it’s too dark outside your window to be sure of the time.

Rubbing the sleep out of your eyes is easier said than done. Your slumber had been a deep one, as the fatigue from two sleepless nights in a row had caught up to you. Once your head hit the pillow, you were convinced nothing could possibly wake you up.

Nothing except the sound of Bucky’s screams in the room down the hall from yours.

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Bruised (Richie/Eddie) 2/12

Summary: It’s 1993 and the summer from many years ago is dead and gone. Many have drifted apart from the Losers club and its at the point where there is no club at all. The atmosphere is cold just like the winter months and the only blushes to be found are the ones that are caused from the piercing spikes of cold that heat skin up. Being a teenage boy is hard; especially for the two boys that now count each other as strangers. In which both boys make a plan, but both disrupt each others.

Warning(s): Depression, angst and fluff throughout the whole series, suicide attempt

A/N: Im so happy at how much support part 1 got?? Thankyou all so so so fucking much ily all also!! credit to @finn-got-tall for an idea in one of the scenes!! (I wont reveal which scene bc i want people to just read) but ty lovely

Part 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12

Eddie and Richie blinked at each other, stunned to see one another in such a strange coincidence. Eddie still had his hand up, but Richie still hadn’t took it. Richie merely brought his hand up that held the cigarette, taking a drag and allowing the toxic waste to decay against his lungs. Eddie visibly cringed at the sight, but stayed silent; he only continued to watch in hope that Richie would somehow step down. Richie took away the small stick, blowing the smoke out slowly and staring at Eddie through his large obnoxious eye glasses.

“Why are you here, Eds?” Richie asked, as if a day hadn’t passed since they last talked.

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2

Stay  ~Jeff Atkins x Reader~

There’s something beautiful about the summer- they way it creates a new version of reality where music sounds better and happiness feels sweeter. Parties can give the same kind of feeling where nothing feels real, but all of it feels great. Well, until the next morning.

This makes an end of the summer party the pinnacle of a new reality. Inhibitions run low and everything else is on overdrive. In a week they will all be students again, studying to ensure the best future possible. But for tonight they are 60% alcohol and 40% bad decisions.

“Y/N!” Jess squeals with excitement, running towards the girl who just entered the room. She had been away visiting family abroad for the majority of the summer, and while the beaches had given a whole new meaning to the word ‘paradise’, this was where she was truly happiest.

“Jess!” she returns the enthusiasm, hugging her best friend tightly. The warm breezes that blew in through her window every morning this past summer brought her comfort, but this was home.

“I want in,” Justin grins, approaching the two and enveloping them between his arms.

“God I’ve missed you guys,” she sighs contentedly.

“You have so much third wheeling to catch up on,” Jess teases light heartedly.

Her face twists up unpleasantly at the thought. She loves both Jess and Justin dearly, but she does not love the thought of third wheeling. “With all due respect, I think I’ll pass.”

“Is that Y/N Y/L/N?!” a fourth voice enters the picture, causing the trio to part and turn towards the person walking towards them.

Jeff Atkins. Baseball star and literal ray of sunshine with the face of an angel and the body of a Greek God.

“Hey, Jeff,” she laughs, walking away from Jess and Justin to meet him halfway.

“I haven’t seen you in forever,” Jeff grins warmly, brushing her arm with his hand. It’s a sweet gesture. He’s always been so sweet.

“It’s only been like two months,” she mirrors his grin. It’s impossible not to smile back at someone who radiates warmth the way he does.

“Feels like forever though. Especially since I was used to seeing you everyday at school. You look nice by the way,” he bumps her shoulder.

“I missed you, too,” she chuckles, “I look like I always do.”

“Exactly.”

She bites her lips together before looking down shyly and letting them fall apart into a smile. Jeff Atkins was so genuinely good in a way that was uniquely him.

“Jeff!” Troy yells from the outside patio, “Beer pong, now, c’mon man!”

“Coming!” Jeff yells back to Troy, but turns back to her before walking away. “Come watch us play? You can practice cheering me on for baseball season,” his mouth twists into a smirk.

“Who says I’m gonna come to your baseball games?” She challenges playfully, using quick wit to redeem herself from the shy smile.

“Don’t break my heart, Y/N,” he pouts childishly, walking backward to join the boys for a game of beer pong but not breaking eye contact with her. He finally turns away from her to exit the house and join those outside, but not before mouthing a “pleaasssseeee” and sticking out his bottom lip.

“I’ll be there in a second!” she yells so he can hear her over the music.

His pout transforms into a grin before he disappears through the threshold, indicating that he heard her.

“So how about a double date instead of third wheeling?” Justin and Jess approach her with Justin wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

“Oh shut up,” her face heats up at the thought, “He’s a nice guy. He’s friendly with everyone.”

“Yeah, but he doesn’t flirt with everyone,” Jess interjects, crossing her arms over her chest vindictively.

“He didn’t ask me to cheer for him,” Justin fakes offense, “Honestly I’m a little hurt.”

“Fuck off, Justin,” she laughs loudly, putting her hands over her face.

“You better get out there,” Justin presses, gesturing to the sliding door, “After all, it’s mine and Jess’s two month anniversary so an intense make-out session could happen at anytime.”

“Bye!” she turns on her heels quickly, running away from her friends before they could make things awkward, or more awkward.

***
Five cups of jungle juice and two games of beer pong later she’s sitting on a folding lawn chair watching Jeff singlehandedly win a third game of beer pong since Troy had wandered off and was bothering Hannah and Clay.

After sinking another shot, Jeff notices where Troy had gone. A brief look of panic flashes across his face before he mutters a quick, “be right back!”, making a beeline for Troy. Jeff was just about as invested in Clay and Hannah as Clay was in Hannah. She wondered just how much better off the world would be if everyone had the same heart as Jeff.

“Did you save the day?” she asks upon Jeff’s return. She’s quite drunk and seeing two of everything, including two Jeffs. How wonderful would that be? A world with two Jeff Atkins. Incredible.

“I don’t know about that,” he chuckles modestly, “It’s up to Clay.”

“Meanwhile that beer run is up to you, buddy” Troy points out, his words slurring together.

“Later man,” Jeff replies, picking up a ping pong ball.

“Because you definitely need more alcohol,” she rolls her eyes at Troy, a sick feeling blossoming in her stomach.

“Don’t be a buzzkill, Y/N,” Troy retorts.

“Hey, relax,” Jeff snaps at Troy, “you’ll get your beer.”

The sick feeling in her stomach intensifies tenfold. She doesn’t want him to go, but she can’t beg him to stay. He’s not drunk, he would never jeopardize his life or anyone else’s so recklessly. But something about it still doesn’t feel right. He shouldn’t go.

She stands up, wobbling slightly. She grabs the back of her lawn chair to steady herself before heading back for the house. The twisting in her stomach is ominous in a way that refuses to be ignored.

“Where’re you going?” Jeff asks, his eyebrows knitting together.

“I need another drink,” she mumbles, brushing past him.

***
Three shots and a game of suck and blow later she’s feeling light and airy. All the anxiety from earlier has been replaced with a tingling feeling that reaches her feet. She’s quite hammered, and all the slip ups in suck and blow have her laughing and her sides aching. She’s starting to get lightheaded.

“I’m gonna go get some air,” she gasps in-between fits of laughter.

“Can you even walk?” Jess giggles.

“I’ll crawl if I have to,” she shrugs, stumbling her way out the door.

***
There’s nothing like the refreshing sensation of cool air hitting your skin after being cooped up in a house full of drunks, especially when you’re drunk yourself. The feeling of a breeze on her face is intoxicating in its own right, so she continues to walk around the outside of the house until she reaches the front.

There’s someone else at the front of the house, too. She can only see their back as they walk towards the row of cars, but she knows who it is. Suddenly she remembers why she felt the need to down three shots of vodka.

“Atkins,” she calls out, stumbling a bit as she walks forward.

He turns around at the sound of his name, smiling when he sees who it is. “Hey, you. Looks like you got that drink you wanted,” he laughs lightheartedly at her shaky balance.

“You making that beer run?” she asks, wringing her hands together nervously.

“Yeah. I’m not even a little buzzed, don’t worry,” he says soothingly.

“Stay,” she says softly.

“Huh?” he tilts his head to the side.

She continues to walk forward until she’s standing right in front of him, her weight falling to the side enough to make her falter. He reaches out to steady her, keeping a firm grasp on her side. She places her hands on his chest to steady herself before locking her eyes on his.

“Stay,” she repeats.

“Y/N, it’s okay I’m completely fine I promise. I only had two beers like two hours ago,” he assures, his voice gentle.

“I know, but it’s not like anybody needs anymore alcohol. I’m one of the more sober ones right now and that says a lot. Honestly I don’t even know how I made it out here on my own,” she sighs, “Just stay, please. ”

He looks at her softly, his eyes studying the worry etched onto her face. She feels so delicate in his grasp, like a porcelain doll that could shatter with too much pressure. He has always been enamored with her.

“Okay,” he moves his hands to hold her face, “I’ll stay.”

She lets out a heavy breath, letting her forehead rest against his chest and wrapping her arms around him. Maybe she was worrying over nothing, maybe she wasn’t, but she’s unexplainably relieved at those words.

“You gotta promise to watch me play baseball though,” he teases.

“I’ll be there every game with a sign that has your name on it,” she laughs, tilting her chin up to look at him.

“You gotta stop looking at me like that,” he shakes his head,“I might just fall in love with you.”

“Don’t get my hopes up.”

“Don’t leave for two months at a time,” he counters, grinning boyishly.

“I’d stay right here forever if I could,” she tightens her arms around him.

“I’d kiss you if you weren’t like 10 drinks deep right now,” he laughs, rubbing her back gingerly.

“Let’s go inside. I need to get sober. Right now. Immediately,” she pulls away, grabbing his hand to tow him behind her. Their laughter echoes down the empty street as they run around to the back of the house.

There’s something beautiful about the end of summer- the way things begin to feel more permanent. A simple request can change so much. All he had to do was stay. And he did.


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anonymous asked:

86 and andreil??

86: “Perhaps you’ll take me out one day — or do I have to make an appointment?” (I combined this with a prompt from foxpaws10 from ages ago based on this post, and I kind of warped both of your prompts i hope this is still okaaay basically it’s doctor andrew and that’s all u need to know)

His morning is a string of disasters that begins with covering the ER in the Sunday rush of hypochondriac elderly and fussy children. It’s one long stretch of kicked over paint buckets, a mess you can’t ignore, splattering the walls and getting on his shoes.

Andrew chose surgery almost entirely for the distance of it, the sterility of a room with a slab of meat, a tray of knives, and a sickness he can actually cut out.

He’s a doctor because he can be, and patients sometimes like that he doesn’t speak a word to them, like silence equals genius.

He likes that there are some patients that come into the ER unconscious and leave the OR unconscious, and all he has is a problem and a ticking clock. He always solves the problem. He thinks maybe it’s because he is one.

The sinking ship of his Sunday in the emergency room goes from slippery to debilitating with one patient.

Two showy ER doctors with their lab coats off and their sleeves rolled up go into the private room they’ve cordoned off, and they both come out looking pinched in the face with their stethoscopes clenched in their fists.

“He’s a fucking disaster,” one of them says, leaning up against the information desk with his eyes still pulling back to the closed door of the room.

“I know. I thought, I dunno. That the news was exaggerating.”

Andrew tilts his head and listens without making any move to leave his post, filling out inane charts as illegibly as he can.

One of the residents chances a look at him and Andrew makes a point of catching him. The guy startles, then juts his chin.

“Maybe you’ll get along with him, Minyard. He’s as crazy as you.”

“You’ve mistaken the hospital for a playground,” Andrew says mildly. “Give me his chart.”

“What?”

“His chart.”

He looks at his friend, mouth slack, and then the one holding the chart holds it out like a dirty rag.

“He’s Boston’s starting striker,” he stage whispers. Andrew takes the clipboard and ignores him, scanning the details. “We’re not supposed to let any patients know.”

“That Neil Josten is causing a scene ten feet away from them?” he says, and the men titter uncomfortably. “Why should he get the luxury of privacy?”

“How did you—“

“The news is available to everyone, Bryant, you fuck.” He rounds the desk and makes for the closed and shuttered room, dropping the chart in the receptacle outside.

“He shouldn’t be allowed to practice,” someone says behind him, and then someone else, softer, scornful: “surgeons”.

Andrew wrings the door knob and finds himself abruptly face to face with the singular most swollen person he’s ever seen. He’s obviously bolting for it, his gown gaping at the neck and someone’s stolen shoes jammed on. Andrew scans the defiant face, the shock of red hair, the near invisible trail of blood from an incorrectly removed IV.

“Sit down.”

“No.”

Andrew watches Neil Josten— and it is him, one of the handful of strikers on Boston’s team and certainly the most newsworthy — size him up. His eyes run the same circuit Andrew’s would if he were looking to fight his way out: door, threat, surreptitiously behind him for a weapon, back again.

“I’ll drug you,” Andrew says simply. Neil’s good eye, the one that isn’t purpling, goes narrow.

“Are you allowed to say that?”

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Hickeys

Pairing: Peter Parker (Spiderman) x Reader

GIF Credit: ^^^

Warnings: Mentions of sex, hICKEYS

Rating: PG-13

A/N: Dude, Petey is seriously the cutest, also, this is a little short. “Anon: the Avengers thinking someone really hurt Peter because he has bruises on his neck/going onto chest and interrogating him who they need to kill until he cracks that they’re just hicKEYS HE’S OK REALLY GUYS then realizing what it is and reader walks in and smugly kisses his cheek and FLUSTERED PETEY?

Peter sat calmly on the Avengers shared couch in the common room. Today was a good day for him. Not too much homework since it was the first day of summer break. Also, last night was an amazing night with you; and by amazing, he means, neither of you got much sleep. Both of you woke up, sore but tangled in each other’s arms, smiling. He didn’t mind your morning breath and it showed as once again, he made you writhe and moan under him.

The one thing that distracted him was the massive amount of hickeys all over his chest and neck. It’s not like you were any better, but a lot of the hickeys on you were in places only he could see, places that were his. You had taken the liberty to mark him everywhere. It made him nervous. Aunt May and found out the hard way that Peter and you were intimate. The Avengers, hell, they didn’t even know you two were dating. So Peter wore a sweatshirt, despite it being almost 90 degrees.

Peter’s strange attire didn’t pass by Steve or Tony. “What do you think those are? Bruises?” Steve asked. Tony just looked grim, nodding. “Should we talk to him? I know he gets bullied at school.” Tony nodded again. Both of them walked over to Peter, sitting down on either side of him. Peter looked at them, confused and worried. Steve put his hand on Peter’s shoulder. “Bud, have you been beaten up?”

You can in through the door behind the couch and neither of them looked at you. When you heard Steve’s question, you smirked, you had to hear this.

Peter looked confused. “What do you mean?”

“The bruises,” Steve says, rubbing his shoulder. Peter’s face turned red and he looked incredibly embarrassed, almost as embarrassed as when May walked in on you two one night. He rubbed the back of his neck.

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Caught in Your Eyes (Part One) — Billy Hargrove

Written by @rune-of-a-writer

Request: Hi. I love your work. I was wondering if you could do a billy imagine where the female reader is new to town and she’s a bad girl and billy instantly falls for her and tries to get with her. Thank you!!

Author’s Note: I’ve decided to make this into a series because of how long it got and because of how much I love it. If you guys like that idea please let us know, feedback would mean a lot with this!

Warnings: Cursing.

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x female!reader

Summary: You were new to town and the last thing you wanted was this blonde haired git and his blue car bothering you. But we can’t all get what we want.

Word Count: 2,414

Listen To: HeartBreaker Marina and the Diamonds

Gif Cred: @allaboutthatbillyhargrove

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Delta (Bucky Barnes x Reader) Pt. 7  A/B/O

A/N: ALRIGHTY YALL! This one gets a lil wild!  😭 But it was super fun to write! I hope you guys like it! ENJOY! - Delilah ❤️ By the way, I added in a hidden Marvel character, let’s see if you guys can find them! (;

Warnings: Angst. Swearing. Sex. Violence. NSFW.

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For You{1} [Jeff Atkins]

Request: Can i request a Jeff Atkins imagine where hes like a badboy but when Y/N is the new girl at Liberty and Clay takes her under his wing, Jeff feels the need to protect her and be good for her? And then at a party he sees Monty and Y/N flirting so he gets wasted and Y/N ends up taking him to her house and taking care of him and he drunkenly confesses his softy feelings for her?

Pairing:bad boy!Jeff Atkins x fem!reader

A/N:I changed it a lil bit,hope you don’t mind!This is my very first Jeff imagine so please bear with me;)Also,i decided to divide this imagine into two or three parts.Oh,and feedback is always welcome:)-M

part 2     part 3      part 4      part 5   tags: @leviathan-cas-05     @gamesandremixes    @shamless-wolfies

Originally posted by cynicalsunset


Ever since Y/N came to Liberty High,the students just couldn’t stop talking about her;the new girl was really beautiful and seemed really kind.Just because she was quite an introvert,the first person she started hanging out with was Clay Jensen.They would walk in the halls,they would do school projects together and sometimes they would go to Monet’s for coffee or milkshakes.

It hadn’t been long until Y/N got slightly annoyed by the behavior of a specific boy who obviously wasn’t happy with her existence;Jeff Atkins.One of the most popular boys at school and one of the best football players.But he didn’t take girls seriously.His longest"relationship"wasn’t longer than two weeks,Clay told her.

There was something on him though,something that made her stomach flip whenever he passed by.Was it his beautiful face?His muscular body?His adorable laugh?Maybe his talent?She couldn’t tell.But she wanted to get to know him,that she could tell for sure.But she decided to quit thinking about him after the “hall incident” as everyone called it.

Y/N was late for last period and with many books in her hands,she was hurriedly heading to her next class.Her eyes were fixed on the floor,as always and unfortunately she didn’t see the figure in front of her.Only when she bumped into him and fell down on her butt,did she realize.Her books were all over the floor.

“What the hell Y/N?” She heard a familiar voice shouting.Embarrassed,she looked up and came face to face with a very angry Jeff Atkins.The cup of coffee he was holding just seconds ago had fallen on his white shirt,the hot liquid soaking it.

Without breaking eye contact but in tears, she stood up on her own and making sure her skirt was in the right place, she replied in a low voice.

“I’m so sorry Jeff,i wasn’t look-”

“Looking,yeah!But you know what?For once in your life just stop daydreaming and be aware of your surroundings!You’re so annoying!“He said harshly and glancing at his shirt,he let out a sigh.

“I can’t believe this is happening…"Jeff said between his gritted teeth,rubbing the soaked fabric.

The lump in Y/N’s prevented her from speaking.She just stood there,hurt.A few tears escaped her eyes but she quickly whipped them away.Were Jeff’s words true though?Was she annoying?Was he exaggerating or just stating facts?No,he didn’t know her.He didn’t know her at all.He didn’t have the right to talk about her like this.

“I can…I can help you clean it,if you want-” she offered with a shaky voice but he interrupted her once again.

“Nah,i think you’ve done enough,sweetheart…” And pushing past her,he left, fast-pacing probably to the bathroom.

Y/N bit her lip.So hard that she started tasting blood.What did she ever do to him?Yeah,they had once or twice exchanged a “hey” or a “goodbye” during chemistry classes but other than that,she didn’t really talk to him.How can a person be irritated by someone else just by looking at them?

“Y/N are you okay?“Clay broke her thoughts.He had already picked up all her books and handed them to her.

Y/N’s eyes wandered from the students who witnessed the whole thing to Clay.She then turned around and saw Jeff slowly being out of sight.

“Yeah,i am fine,i guess…"She mumbled and letting out a huge breath she didn’t know for how long she’d been holding in,she patted her friend’s shoulder.

“Jeff is bad news Y/N.Don’t stress over it.He’s rude towards everyone most of the times.Are you hurt?“He asked curiously and quickly scanned her body.

"I’m perfectly fine,thanks Clay.Guess i’ll see you around.” She said rather quickly and literally and started walking to her next class.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket so she stopped moving,taking it out to see who had messaged her.

It was her friend Jessica.

"Huge party tomorrow night.My place.Come over after school for all the details.Best part,your lovely Jeff will be there!;)”

She felt sick to her stomach as she finally went into class.The teacher hadn’t arrived yet;well,she wasn’t the only one who got late.She quietly found a place next to Justin Foley -the only one empty-who acknowledged her with a smirk.

“Great,just…Great…I hate parties…"She told herself and sighed.

A night full of surprises had been waiting for her.She just didn’t know.

cryptidsanonymous  asked:

I just read everything in your gods and monsters series and wow I am in awe. I am absolutely blown away by your writing it's beautiful the Icarus one had me staring at a wall for ten minutes afterwards absorbing what I'd just read. anywhoozle, I love everything you've written and not to rush or pressure you or anything but I was wondering if perhaps we could get more of the greek mythology stories?

a continuation of this


Caeneus has only ever had two loves in his life.

First is the sea. He’s loved her his whole life, heard her siren song from the time he had long curly hair and still tolerated being put in dresses and called a girl. He loves the sea like his parents go to temple, in an unmovable and inexplicable way that he no longer questions.

Second is Poseidon. Foolish, but so achingly kind. He’s a man who professes his wish to master the sea without ever really understanding it, and Caeneus smiles and kisses the stress lines from his brow but does not worry.

The sea has never loved him back, and it never will. She is power and coldness and loss, and her beauty is in her tragedy. Poseidon is warmth and thoughtfulness and strong hands on his hips. He is nothing like the sea, and he will never rule it.

Caeneus knows this, and he’s relieved by it. Poseidon loves him back. Poseidon is not the sea.

Then he wakes up to his lover’s lips on his neck, cold enough that flinches away from the sensation, and for a terrifying moment he doesn’t recognize the person touching him as the man he loves.

“I can do it now,” he whispers, and cool fingers splay against his waist, “I can make you the man you want to be.”

Caeneus wants the body that men usually have, wants people to stop looking at him and seeing a woman. But if Poseidon had asked, he would have told him – Caeneus would choose his lover over a new body, would rather live as he does now than have Poseidon harm himself for his benefit.

But he did not ask, so Caeneus closes his eyes and accepts the gift his lover is so eager to give him.

~

Amphitrite has never had a heart before.

She was the sea, and what she desired, she took. Men, women – she wanted, and she had, and then she moved on.

But the heart in her chest is softer, warmer. It turns her pearl hued skin pink and makes her swim to the surface to watch the sun set, makes something like empathy stir inside her when before all she had was selfishness.

The heart in her chest is in love, and she thought it was something she could control, something she could stop. It’s not. It will be one day, when she masters this heart in her chest, but not yet. She spends hours following Caeneus as he sails her seas, guides fish into his net and feels her borrowed heart beat that much faster whenever he pears into the ocean and she catches sigh of his gorgeous amber eyes.

So she says to Poseidon, “You spend too much time on the shore for a god of the sea.”

He glances at her, and his eyes are green just like hers, are cold and uncaring just like hers used to be. She wonders what her eyes look like now. “Caeneus is on the shore.”

“Bring him here if you’re so concerned with your mortal,” she says, focusing on weaving shells into her hair and giving the impression that she couldn’t care less what he does with his mortal plaything. “The palace is big enough.”

He stops and turns to her, eyebrow raised. “You do not mind me bringing him here?”

“Do with your mortal as you wish,” she repeats, and stamps down on the trembling joy in her chest, “It’s no concern of mine.”

~

Caeneus doesn’t know how to love a god of the sea. He knew how to love Poseidon – take him onto the water to watch the sunrise, feed him warm, sweet drinks, and let him curl around him at night and listen to his stories of his siblings, of impossible gods who do impossible things.

But now he sits in a palace under water, with his own room and the freedom to see the other side of the ocean he loves so dearly. There are no sunsets here, no cocoa to barter for, and Poseidon doesn’t tell him stories any more.

Poseidon still loves him. He kisses him and holds his hips when they sleep together and keeps him by his side while he crosses the sea and gains more and more control over this domain that he now commands. Poseidon still loves him, he tells himself when he itches to return to the surface and the home Poseidon build for him, and the life he built for himself.

He didn’t want to be a consort of the king of sea. He just wanted to be Caeneus, a man who loved a man and was loved in return, a man who loved the sea even though it would never love him back.

The sea will never love him back. He’s known that since he was a child, so the real question is – how much of the Poseidon he knew is left, and how much of him the depths of the ocean?

~

There’s a hurricane that requires her husband’s attention, and even he is not so foolish as to bring his lover to a place as dangerous as that. Which means it’s the perfect time for her to run into him in the interior gardens, as he stares up through the iridescent seaweed to the rays of sunlight that just manage to penetrate the water. “Do you miss it?” she asks him, and he startles, swinging around to face her and stumbling away.

“My lady!” he says, and falls to his knees before her, bowing his head. It’s what she expects of all mortals, but not from him, never from him. The heart in her chest loves him, and if it’s not her heart, well – the rest of her doesn’t know the difference. “A thousand apologies.”

“You are welcome here,” she says, and smiles. She’s never smiled quite like this before, she’s never felt quite like this before, fond and fluttery and so painfully eager that it would be embarrassing if she ever dared articulate it. It’s a wonder Poseidon managed to get anything done at all if this is what he had in his chest.

He looks up, hesitant, and she holds out her hand. He takes it, and she pulls him to his feet, pulls him closer until they’re nearly touching and he’s forced to look up into her eyes or be stuck staring at her chin. He’s warmer than her, she can feel the heat pouring off him in waves, and she wants him to hold her in his arms so she can languish against him like she would a sun-warmed rock.

Before she had a heart, she took who and what she wanted, when she wanted it.

Now she has a heart, and she takes his hands in both of hers and says, “Would you like to visit the surface? I can take you, and bring you back before my husband returns.”

He’s hesitant because he’s afraid of her. Caeneus will never love her, because although she holds the heart he loves she is not the person the heart belongs to. Not that he knows any of that, not that anyone will ever know the details of her and Poseidon’s arrangement. But she doesn’t want Caeneus to be afraid of her. She wants him to smile at her like she is a sunrise. “Yes, please,” he decides on finally.

She stands and watches as he walks through his home, as he touches the hearth and looks longingly at the bed, as he stands in the small cottage that he clearly prefers over her palace, over all the riches and adoration that comes with being consort to the sea.

Caeneus is a simple man, whose heart loves with a simple love.

He is a man whose heart loves someone who now has no heart, and Amphitrite can’t bring herself to tell him. She’s the one who took it away, and she won’t give it back.

She likes having a heart, and one day she will need to return it, but not now, not yet, not for a long time.

~

Caeneus lies besides Poseidon, curled up so his head rests on the god’s outflung arm and he can watch his chest rise and fall as he sleeps. There are bruises on Caeneus’s hips and down his chest, bite marks on his shoulder and up his neck. It’s not the first time his lover has been rough with him, and he doesn’t mind, like that Poseidon doesn’t touch him like he’s afraid he’ll break, likes that whenever he’s rough he’s careful enough with his strength not to ever cross the line from bruising to breaking.

It’s different than it used to be. It’s been different for a long time, ever since Poseidon somehow convinced the Lady to hand over her title as monarch, to share her power with him for no reason that Caeneus can see. It’s not love between them, because the sea does not love. But she got something out of it, something valuable enough to bargain away part of her power, and as soon as she did the man Caeneus loves ceased to exist.

He slides out of bed and angrily rubs at his eyes. He can’t do this anymore, can’t sleep and live with this man who has his lover’s face and memories and nothing else.

He knows this palace well, and everyone else knowns him too. The servants don’t question him, only offer shallow bows before hurrying on his way. He’s a fisherman who lives on the outskirts of society. He’s not any sort of person that people were meant to bow to. He stands in front of an ornate set of carved doors, the beautiful shimmering inside of a muscle shell of impossible size. Two guards stand at each door, but neither move to stop him as he pushes it open and slips inside.

“Lady?” he whispers. Large, bioluminescent carvings flare to life all across the room, bathing them in soft golden-green light. Amphitrite pulls herself out of bed, green hair loose around her and the rest of her on display, pale and flawless, as perfect an example of a beautiful woman as Caeneus has ever seen, and he averts his gaze. “Lady!”

“So modest,” she teases, and when he glances over she’s in a simple white robe and pulling her hair up behind her. She looks vulnerable like this, almost like his mother did when she would rouse him and his father from sleep in the darkness of early morning so they could catch the fish while they were still sleeping. “What’s going on Caeneus? I thought my husband had exclusive rights to your nights,” she winks, and he forces a smile.

He walks over to her, takes her hands in his because he knows she likes how warm he runs compared to her, and her smile slips off her face. “Please,” he whispers, “Poseidon is different than he once was, and I want to know why. Please.”

~

She shouldn’t tell him, but the heart in her chest loves him, and she loves him too, thinks she would even without Poseidon’s heart influencing her.

So she tells him, and when he starts crying she brushes away his tears and he doesn’t stop her. “He’ll never love you like he once did,” she tells him, “It’s not that he doesn’t want to, he just can’t.”

“The sea doesn’t love you back,” he says, because he knows, because he’s a skilled sailor, because he’s one of the people who has worshipped her his whole life without ever expecting anything back, because that’s what an ocean gives back – nothing at all. “Can – can I give you my heart?”

She stares. “Excuse me?”

“Let me give you my heart,” he pleads, “so that I may hold Poseidon’s in my chest. You can have mine, I know I’m only a mortal–”

“You’re all mortal to me,” she says, because a hundred years, a thousand, ten thousand, what does it matter – she and Gaia were around long before gods and humans, and they’ll be around long after them. “If I give you Poseidon’s heart, you will become a god.”

He pales and flinches away from her. He’s not in this for power, this was never about power to him. It was always about love. “Lady, I’m not trying to – I don’t want that.”

“If you become a god,” she continues, because she loves him and that means she wants him to be happy, even at her own expense, “you will be alive when the time comes for me to reclaim my title of monarch. One day I will take back my heart from Poseidon, will reclaim the cold, black thing in his chest as my own, and when I do he will no longer be master of the sea. When I do, you can give him back his heart, and he will love you as he loved you before, as he will always love you.”

Caeneus has a hand over his chest and there’s so much hope shining in his eyes that it’s almost painful to look at. “Please, Lady. Please. I love him, let me carry his heart, let me have him back once you are done. I will wait.”

“It will be a long time,” she answers honestly, “Empires will rise and fall before I’m willing to give this up, before Poseidon will be willing to give up his power over the sea.”

“I will wait,” Caeneus repeats, “I love him. If you have my heart, maybe you will grow to love him too. If you have my heart, you will protect him, you will keep him safe.”

Amphitrite loves Caeneus, and Caeneus loves Poseidon, and Poseidon is incapable of loving anyone at all. “Very well,” she whispers, because a heart is a heart, and just like Poseidon she’s unable to deny Caeneus anything.

She breaks open her chest and takes out the warm, beating heart of Poseidon. She slits open Caeneus’s chest for him, and holds him upright while struggles to take out his heart and clumsily places in into her chest. She heals over instantly, and nestles Poseidon’s heart in Caeneus’s ribcage. He too heals over, and his eyes flash with power as the heart settles inside of him.

Caeneus becomes so much more than a mortal man in that moment.

This heart doesn’t feel too different, she still loves Caeneus because she’s capable of loving and he is worthy of it. “Go,” she says, “Say your goodbyes, and leave. If you stay, he’ll just continue hurting you, and in a few thousand years he’ll hate himself for it. Leave now, and spare both of you that pain.”

He leans forward and cups her face in his hands, kissing her on each cheek. “Thank you,” he breathes, and then he’s gone.

~

Caeneus can feel the power of a god flowing into him, but he doesn’t care about that, the only reason he’s glad he’s a god now is so he’ll live long enough to get Poseidon back, to get the Poseidon who loves him back.

He goes back to where Poseidon is sleeping, and takes a long, careful look. It will be a long time before he sees this man again. He kisses him on the lips, softly and carefully, the way Poseidon first kissed him when he thought he was sleeping.

Then he leaves, stepping outside the palace and using his newly gained powers to bring himself to the shore.

~

Poseidon is furious, bur Amphitrite won’t budge, says only that Caeneus left. He throws a temper, and half the palace is lost in the aftermath, but she does not care.

She doesn’t tell him that she no longer carries his heart. It doesn’t matter. Caeneus’s heart beats in her chest, and she sits on her throne amongst the rubble and does nothing more than sigh at the way he threatens to tear the world apart looking for his lover. It will pass. The depth and coldness of the sea is unable to sustain such fits of wild passion.

Years pass. Rumors reach them of a sea god, one who is known for rescuing sailors and fisherman from storms, one who they say used to be a mortal fisherman himself.

They call him Glaucus, and say that he swallowed a magical herb to become a god.

She smiles when she hears these rumors, and thankfully Poseidon has long given up trying to get her to explain herself. The rumors are only half right, but she likes hearing them none the less.

It comforts her to hear that Caeneus is well.


gods and monster series, part xiii

read more of the gods and monsters series here

13x04: What’s the Deal with Catharsis?

This isn’t funny anymore. I am not okay. I’m in a state of needing to do laps around my room (and the room is roomy enough to be comfy) (but roomy enough for doing laps in it ain’t). All this excess energy is making me sweat even when I sit still!! (I exaggerate) But Jesus Mary and Joseph the writers and cast and crew and the whole shebang and shindig is giving us… SO MUCH. *everything* 

So, here’s the recipe for Deconstructing Dean: 

You take Dean Winchester, you make him slam all his walls back in place and you drain him of the want to feel anything, because the pain is too much to handle, so if he feels it, he knows it’ll fucking break him, right? 

Now for the most crucial part: you make him act the part of his father and you make him latch onto that persona, one that he’s cultivated within himself in order to be the good son, the responsible big brother, the dutiful soldier, the hero. Only this time you make this persona into what it really is without the warmth and hope and love that is at the heart of Dean Winchester: you make it a shell. You make it obvious that this persona is based in the lie Dean has always told himself of who he needs to be in order to cope, in order to be strong, to carry all this weight placed on his shoulders from too young an age. 

And Dean himself doesn’t even believe in this lie anymore: 

  • Refusing to listen to Miriam’s tirades and his comment of “I’m just a guy doing a job” in 13x01 began to deliver a sense of maturity, of Dean truly on the cusp of growing the fuck up
  • In 13x02 this was pushed further with Jack’s line: Pain is part of the complete human experience. Accepting it is a sign of maturity.
  • In 13x03, Dean’s actual aversion to his toxic masculinity and his need to address it and reject it was highlighted through every plot line in that episode being rooted in Dean’s self-examination and what he needs to understand: no one can tell you who you are - you choose who to be. (choice and identity) (like wow)
  • By 13x04 it’s clear to this meta writer exactly how much Dean knows his performance is a shell, but there’s no way he can let go of it. It’s his safety net now, keeping all the feelings at bay. Feelings are weaknesses, his performance says, and shuts them all out
  • Save one, of course, and that’s the anger

How is it highlighted to us that he knows the performance is a shell? 

–> By him asking Sammy to keep the faith for the both of them. 

Dean’s aware of what he’s doing, he’s so aware of shutting everyone out, and he knows, deep down, that it isn’t him, that he wants to believe they can save Mary because he can see that there’s a chance, but right now… all faith has drained from him because the root of his hope for the future has been taken away. (yes of course that’s Cas)

How else can we ascertain that Dean, deep down, wants to mature?

Well, how about –>

Sam: He was really into the whole catharsis thing.
Dean: Yeah, sure, who wouldn’t be, if it’s like another word for happy ending?

Now, they really, really could’ve written this line in a way that didn’t imply that Dean is actually saying what? He is saying that he can understand why Wes was into the whole catharsis thing when catharsis was another word for happy ending. Meaning Dean can understand why someone would want to work on themselves on the basis of getting their happy ending. MEANING DEAN WINCHESTER WANTS A HAPPY ENDING. He still wants that long and happy life, he just doesn’t see it anymore for REASONS.

FFS. (FOR FUCK’S SAKE)

And for someone who abjectly dismisses the idea of therapy as bullcrap and thinks the whole thing is like snake oil for the mind…

Okay, so, I know Dean is anti-everything here. I get it. He is demonstrating how little faith he has in this brain-scrambling, emotion-combing time waster of an endeavour, right? But I just want to look a tiny bit closer at this specific moment in this scene.

Because look at Dean’s body language –> it’s completely open. 

Jensen is formidable in using body language and those famed micro-expressions to tell us tons about Dean. That’s because he’s a formidable actor and using body language and micro-expressions is part of his job. Human communication is more than 50% based in body language, so to say that this tool for subtext doesn’t matter to the story, that the visual narrative is a layer that can be dismissed as unimportant, is mildly insane. Just in case anyone ever says that. (I bid you stop it) (not to be bossy) (just please seriously)

Also, look at Jared sat at the edge of that sofa, Dean taking up space, spreading himself out like an alpha male. Sam looks more defensive than Dean here, and considering where this scene is headed, there’s no wonder. What’s so subtle about this, though, is that by the end of the episode we’ll get a small catharsis from Dean, where he puts words to how he’s feeling, answering the question from Sam that opens the entire episode, so Dean’s open body language towards Sam here can also be seen as foreshadowing of that, that he’s open wide to the fact that Sam is actually right. *slow eyebrow raise*

And then there’s how Dean asks his question:

Mom was great, now she’s dead–>

–> Dismissive to a fault, because Dean’s grief truly is not tied to Mary, because deep down Dean can see the worth in Sam’s belief that they can get her back, underneath all that pain there is still a glimmer of hope.

What’s the deal with catharsis?–>

–> Yeah, exactly - Dean throws this out there and does so immediately. Again, it of course has to do with his attitude towards therapy in general, it’s to do with the anger masking his pain, but it’s also a defence mechanism, because he isn’t ready to be open, no matter how much he subconsciously wants to be, or feels he needs to be. Asking this question here just underlines this already hinted at need, because deep down Dean wants to believe there’s something that can somehow lead him to a happy ending, he wants to know what the deal with catharsis is for himself, because he wants to have faith in the future again. He just can’t right now, because his future burned on a pyre not very long ago. 

I mean the GROWING PAINS of it all! Dean Winchester is maturing into an adult before our very eyes and it makes me so fucking happy for him!! And what does that small moment at the end of the episode, the moment of very very tentative catharsis (hopefully leading to a properly significant moment in 13x05) still give him? That one tiny line of dialogue where he admits to Sam how Sam’s been right in calling him out on his behaviour and how he doesn’t want to be like this forever, it’s just for now, because right now he doesn’t believe in a damn thing.

It gets him this –>

*fffflllaaaiiilll*

Delta (Bucky Barnes x Reader) A/B/O Part 2!

A/N: Hey guys! Part 2 is finally here and it gets wild as heck lol. I had too much fun while writing this! I’m sorry for the super long update and I’ll be posting more stuff later! I’m on a roll today! I hope you guys like it! ENJOY! - Delilah ❤️

 Warnings: Angst. Mentions of sex. Everyone pretty much goes bonkers. 

Series Masterlist



“Ms. Y/L/N,” Friday chimed.

With a small groan, you forced your eyes open. It was supposed to be your day off, meaning you could sleep as much as you wanted for as long as you wanted. Why was she calling you now?

“Yes, Friday?” you murmured. She always found a way to bother you, especially during nap time. Delta’s needed more rest than everyone else, but of course, nobody knew that but you. You hadn’t told anyone about your true status yet.

“Mr. Stark requests your presence in the common room.”

With a tired groan, you threw the covers from your body and sat up.

What could possibly be going on this time? Did Tony blow up another suit again? It took weeks to get the oil out of your nails, much less your skin. Did Peter run out of webs mid swing again? You loved the kid almost like a little brother, but the kid needed some kind of rockets in his shoes for safety. You made sure to scold Tony on that; he wasn’t exactly a responsible crime fighter. You understood now what Pepper went through.

You slipped on the nearest form of clothing you could find before making your way towards the common room.

The sounds of hushed whispering rung throughout your ears. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Was Tony having guests over? Why didn’t Friday mention that to you? Looking down at your clothes, you felt a blush break out on your cheeks. You were nowhere near dressed for guests. It wasn’t anything near provocative, just an oversized sweater and leggings, but still. You didn’t like drawing attention to yourself and you strongly disliked strangers.

Entering the room, you spotted the entire Avengers assembly. Literally.

You recognized Thor, who stood taller than everyone else, speaking with Bruce Banner quietly. You spotted Vision and …were that Scarlett Witch? Jesus, she was even prettier in person. You may or may not have read her file religiously.

You saw Hawkeye standing next to the redheaded assassin herself, Black Widow. Immediately, you felt your instincts kick in slightly. She was a suitable alpha, no doubt. Her red hair made her pale skin seem almost vibrant and those eyes…god she was so perfect. With a subtle shake of your head, you pulled your mind out of the gutter. As nice as she was, you were still wary of the woman. She was extremely intimidating.

In the corner of the room, you spotted Falcon and Ant Man standing side by side. You could tell how nervous the two looked about the whole situation. You couldn’t blame them, from what you heard about the whole airport thing that happened in Germany, you’d be a bit nervous, too.

You smiled when you spotted Peter standing by himself, his hands in his tucked into his pockets casually. At least you knew him. Even though Peter was a newly legal Beta, he still remained one of your closest friends. He didn’t know about your whole…status problem yet, but he something told you he knew there was more to you than what you were telling him. But being the polite person he was, he decided not to push it, to your relief.

When Tony entered the room, everyone instantly got quiet. You had a feeling you’d be receiving some really bad news this evening.

“Alright, I’m sure you’re all wondering why I called you here,” he began, clapping his hands together. You could spot the subtle sweat beading across his forehead. Why was he so nervous? “I can assure you right now, I’m not dying!”

Everyone seemed to relax a little bit at the news. Jesus, he had a way of being the biggest drama kind on this earth.

As Tony continued, you felt someone’s eyes on you. Ignoring it, you kept your gaze on Tony.

“Why are we here, Tony?” Rhodey asked, crossing his arms over his chest. A cliché alpha mannerism. You snorted softly at the realization that your instincts hadn’t kicked in at the sight of him. Maybe he wasn’t as alpha as he thought he was. Alphas were so fragile underneath the whole macho exterior.

Again, you could feel someone’s eyes on you. And it was honestly irking the life out of you. You couldn’t possibly focus on Tony while whoever it was stared at you like that. With a causal turn of your head, you caught sight of Natasha glancing over at you. Her blue eyes were set on your body, trailing them up and down. Suddenly, you felt so small.

You felt the arousal slowly growing between your legs, making you blush. Before she could look back into your eyes, you looked away quickly. That wasn’t a very practical idea after all.

“We’re here because I’ve decided that I was a little bit hard on Rogers,” he admitted, avoiding everyone’s gaze. But when he looked up at everyone’s smirks, he sighed.

“Okay, maybe I was a bit dramatic about it.”

Someone let out a snort.

“What I’m trying to say is, I was wrong. Incredibly wrong about the entire situation. Rogers, although he can be a little shit sometimes, is a strong asset to this team. And without him, we’ve pretty much got nothing going for us.”

Everyone nodded in agreement, much to his dismay.

“Hey! I did pretty well those couple of ti- anyways,” he cleared his throat. “I’ve decided to try and make things right; for the sake of the team. I offered Cap a place back on the team.”

Everyone let out small approvals at the news. You even cracked a smile. This was so mature for Tony, you were so proud of him.

“He agreed to come back on one condition.” Everyone practically leaned in with anticipation. Peter even stood on the couch to get a better view.

“He’ll come back, but only if Barnes gets a place, too.”

You felt like one of those cartoon characters. Your jaw practically dropped straight to the floor. Peter instantly looked down at me with wide eyes. But Rhodey, though…he was not having it at all.

“Are you high?!” he shouted, clenching his fists in fury.

“I wish I was,” Tony said under his breath with a sigh. “No Rhodey, I’m just trying to fix things for once.”

“And by fixing, you mean letting the man who killed your parents live under your roof?”

That’s when shit hit the fan.

“Hey, Barnes was brainwashed!” Scott shouted. “He didn’t mean any of that!”  

“Oh yeah? Well, why didn’t he just walk away?” Rhodey retorted. “He could’ve at any point. He’s a damn master assassin!”

You glanced over at Peter, feeling a bit fearful. He gave you a reassuring smile, patting your shoulder gently. You absolutely hated confrontation. Especially when it involved your work.

“Tony!” Rhodey exclaimed. “At least think about this for a couple days!”

“Yeah, about that,” Tony said, glancing at his wristwatch. “I kinda already agreed to it. They should be here any minute.”

Your eyes nearly flew out of your head. You weren’t too sure about this. You knew Steve was a trustworthy man, but this Bucky guy…you were a bit wary of this. The only thing you knew about him was that he murdered a lot of innocent people, including Tony’s parents. Tony told you the entire thing personally after he’d nearly drank himself to death one night.

“Mr. Stark,” Friday chimed again. You all instantly went quiet. “Mr. Rogers and Mr. Barnes have arrived.”

“Oh, cool,” he sighed. “Send them in, I guess.”

The elevator chimed mechanically, opening swiftly.

That’s when you felt it.

Your vision instantly blurred, creating kaleidoscope like patterns. You placed a hand on whoever was near you for support. Whoever the person was, they placed their hands on your shoulders, steadying you. The next thing you know, you’re on the ground surrounded by everyone. You feel hands cupping your face, forcing you to look up. Natasha stared back at you, her blue eyes widened with worry.

The heat between your legs was unlike anything else you’ve ever felt. It was almost unbearable. You felt a wave of arousal hit you at full force, preventing you from thinking straight.

Natasha leaned in far too close, inhaling deeply. Her eyes snapped open, her eyes completely dilated.

“Delta.” She whispered, licking her lips hungrily.

“Delta.” Peter repeated, his eyes dilating as well.

“Delta!” Wanda gasped, prowling closer to you with matching dilated eyes.

“Delta.” Sam followed behind her, his nostrils flaring.

You looked over at the elevator, past all the people slowly crowding around you.

Bucky’s eyes were completely dilated, his breaths coming out in short puffs. He was the one. He was the perfect mate and you wanted his knot and you wanted it now. You didn’t care if everyone watched; you needed him more than anything. You didn’t care who was in the way of your alpha.

“WAIT WHAT?” Tony practically squeaked, staring at you with wide eyes. “What do you guys mean delta? She’s not…oh no.” he inhaled, catching your scent of wild berries and pine trees. Of course you were a delta. Jesus, he was so stupid not to notice. You had no scent up until now.

Natasha dipped her nose into your neck, inhaling harshly. You let out a small whine, gently trying to push yourself away from her. It was no use. She was an alpha, far too strong for you.

Bucky let out a growl, snapping everyone’s eyes from you to him. The gears in his metal arm shifted threateningly as he clenched his fist harder. Your eyes instantly went to his, begging silently for him to take you away.

Before anyone was able to touch you, Tony scurried past everyone and snatched you away from Natasha. Well, he tried to.

Natasha grabbed ahold of your legs as tight as she could, planting her feet onto the ground to prevent him from leaving. “God damn it, Romanoff!” he spat. “Get your shit together before I make Fury fire you!”

In a flash, Thor scooped the redheaded woman up from the ground and threw her over his shoulder despite her angry shouts.

“Ah, I remember my first encounter with a delta!” he laughed, snatching a kicking and screaming Wanda up as well with his other arm.

Tony began dragging you away as fast as he could, trying to dodge the crazed people that darted towards you.

Peter had managed to grab onto your arm, only to be snatched up by Clint and thrown into one of the coat closets. “Jesus,” Clint sighed, placing a chair in front of the door. “You guys are so embarrassing.”

You caught a glimpse of Bruce running out of the building, his body shifting inhumanly large. Oh god, he was hulking out. Vision and Sam were practically rolling on the floor as the android gathered the man into a headlock. “Let me go, you fucker!” Sam spat, wiggling in his grasp.

Suddenly, you felt a cold, metal arm grab onto your ankle, tearing you away from Tony’s grasp. You cried out with glee at the sight of Bucky practically dragging you through the hall, ignoring Tony’s shouts from afar. You jumped into his arms, wrapping your legs around his waist as he carried you away. Bucky raced down the hallway, zooming through the halls for any empty rooms. He didn’t care if it was a janitor closet, as long as he could get his knot inside you and fast.

You dipped your head into his neck, pressing small kisses along the warm flesh. He let out a growl, kneading the flesh of your behind. You let out a small squeak at his actions. Bucky smelled like heaven. His scent was a mixture of cinnamon and the ocean, your favorite two things combined into the perfect alpha. You tangled your fingers through his hair, breathing in his scent as if it were oxygen.

“Rogers!” Tony’s voice echoed from down the hall. “Get your friend before he impregnates my successor!”

Suddenly, you and Bucky were on the ground. Steve’s shield rattled against the ground beside the two of you. Bucky let out a string of curses as he stood. Before he could get to you, he was tackled to the ground by Steve. The two men wrestled on the ground, throwing punch after punch.

Not knowing what else to do, you crawled towards the men and pounced onto Steve’s back.

“What the hell? Get off Y/N!” he shouted, stumbling backwards. Before Bucky could get to his feet once again, you were snatched from Steve’s back and hauled away from him.

“What the hell is wrong with you two? You’re like rabid bunnies on Viagra!” Tony exclaimed, dragging you away with all his might.

You cried out as you got farther and farther away from Bucky. Your heat slowly became more and more intense the farther you were apart. You watched helplessly as Steve planted his shield on his friend’s back and sat on it, preventing him from following this time.

You reached out and grabbed onto one of the door handles and tried to pull yourself away from Tony, only to have him swat your hands away. Turning the corner, the last thing you saw was Bucky lying helplessly beneath Steve.


Tony practically threw you into the first bedroom he found.

Unfortunately, you completely missed the bed and landed on the floor with a loud thud. You picked yourself up and cradled your bruised arm, snarling at Tony. The older man let out a sigh of relief, plopping down onto the bed. It was a spare bedroom, but it would do for now. He just needed to rest a bit. He really did need to get back in shape soon. Gosh, Pepper would be cackling at him right now.

“You are such a handful, you know that?” he sighed, watching you intently.

You glared up at him, your eyes still dilated completely black. You were still in heat. Great.

Tony let out a small chuckle, staring out the small window. You let out a small growl.

“You know, I remember these days when I was a kid.” He recalled, watching the birds fly past the building. Your eyes widened. What was he talking about?

“You see,” he said softly. “My mom was a delta, too.”


Tag list of super awesome people! 

@97britt @vivianbabz @abigailredgrave @inumorph @adrianabribiescacortes @amrita31199 @jezzula @ifoundlove-x0vanessa0x @thelostswan @gingerbatchwife @ballerinafairyprincess @leahxespinosa @toastmaster94 @buckyshattergirl @answer-the-sirens @rlsebastianbarnes @kaitskennedyy 

Well, Shit. (A Voltron Fanficiton)

You remember when I said I can’t write fanficiton for shit? Well here we go! My best attempt! If you like it please let me know! I’m working on Chapter 2! Takes place after season 2, after finding Shiro (because Shiro will come back I will not accept anything else omg). 

CHAPTER 2 IS NOW HERE: http://violaswimmer.tumblr.com/post/156953215941/well-shit-a-voltron-fanficiton-chapter-2

AND SO IS CHAPTER 3:

http://violaswimmer.tumblr.com/post/157047198811/well-shit-a-voltron-fanfiction-chapter-3

ALSO CHAPTER 4:

http://violaswimmer.tumblr.com/post/157157013206/well-shit-a-voltron-fanfiction-chapter-4

AND CHAPTER 5:

http://violaswimmer.tumblr.com/post/157254073496/well-shit-a-voltron-fanfiction-chapter-5

AND CHAPTER 6:

http://violaswimmer.tumblr.com/post/157296304031/well-shit-a-voltron-fanfiction-chapter-6

AND CHAPTER 7!

http://violaswimmer.tumblr.com/post/157378879001/well-shit-a-voltron-fanfiction-chapter-7

CHAPTER 8:

http://violaswimmer.tumblr.com/post/157547824756/well-shit-a-voltron-fanfiction-chapter-8

CHAPTER 9:

http://violaswimmer.tumblr.com/post/157710839871/well-shit-a-voltron-fanfiction-chapter-9

CHAPTER 10:

http://violaswimmer.tumblr.com/post/157841715481/well-shit-a-voltron-fanficition-chapter-10

ALSO YOU CAN READ THE WHOLE SERIES ON ARCHIVE OF OUR OWN: http://archiveofourown.org/works/10025633

Lance and the Voltron Team go on a mission that goes horribly wrong. Lance is left behind to be interrogated by the mysterious Galra Prince Lotor. The team must rush to get him back at all costs. 


Chapter 1: Well, Great.

Lance awoke to the same face he had been seeing for a while now. That’s the thing about space, it’s hard to tell the time. But this Prince Lotor guy was making it even harder since he didn’t let Lance sleep more than an hour at a time, well he hoped it was an hour.

Team Voltron had been floating across the galaxy and found a distress beacon from a nearby planet. When they landed Allura asked the people what was wrong since they seemed pretty peachy for apparently being under distress. They lead the Voltron team to these large trees, like huge, way bigger than Earth’s trees. They entered a kind of makeshift elevator and when they reached the top they saw the problem.

A huge Galra ship hanging in the sky above them. No movement, nothing firing, just sitting there in the atmosphere above the planet. Obviously the people had panicked, sounded the distress beacon but the ship hadn’t done anything for a full week. The ship was making the people nervous so they left the beacon on hoping someone would come help them.

It was weird. Really weird. So of course they had to check it out. Team Voltron. Wooh. Anyway so eventually they went back to the castle. Allura and Coran did every scan they thought of and well they found no signs of life. Also weird. But they couldn’t destroy the ship, not from the castle. The shields were still up and they had to be disabled. So someone, namely Pidge had to get on the ship, disable the shield and get out so the castle could blast it out of the sky. Simple.

First of all Lance was the only one to think that maybe this wasn’t a great idea. Everyone else was convinced the scans worked, that no one was on the ship. Of course they went in still on alert but you know, things never go well for the paladin in blue. So Pidge was escorted by Lance and Keith while Hunk and Shiro waited with the castle just in case.

They entered the ship no problem. Not a big deal. Even got to the control panel without a hitch. But as soon as Pidge so much as touched the console things went to shit, real quick. When Pidge touched the console it set off some sort of alarm, out of nowhere Lance heard guards gathering outside the control room door. He and Keith readied their bayards then the comms went nuts. Shiro, Hunk and the castle had been surrounded by a Galra fleet. There was no escape. It had been a trap.

So Lance made a decision and a dangerous one. Without thinking he grabbed Keith and Pidge by the back of their uniforms and threw them over the edge of the control board, down a long drop where a vent lead to the outside of the ship. Pidge made a surprise squeak with Keith yelling Lance’s name. Lance turned and began to fire on the Galra soldiers. He knew what he had to do.

“I’m gonna blow the ship. Get as far away as you can, wormhole out if you have to!” He shouted over the comms.

There was muffled sounds of protest from Shiro and Hunk before the comms went dead completely. Great now they couldn’t communicate. The guards were piling through the door like mice escaping a hole. He had to hope that by now Pidge and Keith had made it far enough away, he couldn’t hold them any longer. So he turned his back, taking what cover he could from the tons of fire. He aimed at the crystal in front of him. He needed to break it. So he looked where he could fire. Where the crystal attached, he’s sure he can hit it. He aims, a shot from one of the guards hits him in the shoulder. Doesn’t matter. He breathes and fires. The shot hit sure and true and the crystal began to crack, sparks coming from it. Lance jumped into the cavern, going down the shaft to the vent. The crystal explodes.


Lance can’t hear anything, the explosion must have blown an ear drum. His back feels hot, spinning out of control into open air, jet pack not functioning. Great. Blue isn’t near enough to get to him. He had no idea how the castle was if everyone was okay. But the g-forces were causing his head to spin and he began to lose consciousness. His last thought was, I hope everyone gets out okay. Lance’s vision goes black as he continues to tumble towards the planet’s surface.


Everyone sees it, they hear it too. Keith and Pidge managed to get back to the castle in one piece right before the whole ship goes up. The explosion would have been spectacular if it wasn’t so frightening. Hunk and Shiro stopped fight just of a moment in sheer horror as the whole ship explodes. Lance was on that ship.

But the explosion works. The fleet takes damage, the explosion bigger than usual since they were fighting in the atmosphere rather than space. It takes out several ships. They have a chance to escape.

But everyone is frozen. Until they see it. A tiny figure tail spinning out of control in a blue and white suit.

“Lance!” Shiro shouts, trying to get to him before he hits the surface. But enemies were replacing the destroyed ones and he couldn’t get there in time.

Suddenly the ship that had hung back for the entire battle did something none of them expected. It sent out a beam of purple light and shined it on Lance’s out of control form. Lance’s body went limp, still and then slowly began to drag him toward the Galra ship.

Keith yelled, “They’re taking him!”

“We have to get him!” Pidge insisted. She hated the way he was limp, was he unconscious or worse?

They rushed to go get their lions. But Allura’s voice stopped them.

“YOU CANNOT!” She shouted.

Everyone paused even Shiro and Hunk who were still fighting outside the castle but they heard it over the comms. They had never heard Allura scream like that.

“We must wormhole out, we cannot win this fight.” She said this time barely a whisper.

There was a stunned silence before Keith of all people shouted.

“That’s LANCE out there! He just risked his life to give us a chance! We can’t abandon him!” Keith said, outraged.

Allura took in a breath.

“That is exactly why we need to go. Now. Lance bought us time. We can’t waste it.” She turned to them, tears in her eyes. Keith’s rage quickly melted.

“We will come back for him. We will find him and bring him home. However we need to be alive to do that. I’m certain we would not survive an assault on that ship. We must leave. Now.” Allura said tears streaking down her cheeks.

She wiped them the best she could and went to the comms telling Hunk and Shiro to come back. They were going to wormhole out. Reluctantly they came back, looking pale and worried. The ship made the wormhole, leaving the Galra and Lance behind.


Lance’s head felt heavy. His back felt worse, dry and stinging. He was being suspended against a wall. Arms, legs and torso bound by heavy thick clamps on the walls. Everything hurt. He slowly raised his head, moving it seemed to make it worse but he needed to see where he was. He knew he wasn’t in the castle but where exactly was he?

He blinked his eyes. Realizing quickly that one was having trouble seeing, which is a great thing to add to his ever growing list of problems. The room was dark with metal floors, walls and ceiling. Purple lights lined the walls in a linear pattern. He recognized that purple anywhere. He was on a Galra ship. Great.

He spent time looking over his injuries. He took a shot to the shoulder, he remembered that. But the rest must have been from the explosion or the free fall. His back was burnt, realizing the sensation. His left eye couldn’t see very well, vision was dark and tinted red. He could feel a cut over his eyebrow pulsing and swollen. His jaw felt fat and burned. The clamps were holding him to the wall a bit too tight and it seemed hard to draw a good breath. What a mess.

Soon the door flew open, showering the room in purple light. A tall man stepped in, long white hair and purple skin. Yellow almost glowing eyes looked at Lance with an interest that made his skin crawl. He was wearing armor, fancy armor. This guy was definitely in charge. Lance smirked, confidence couldn’t fail him now.

“Who are you? Zarkon’s replacement?” Lance asked, smug

The man took a moment and smiled.

“Yes, something like that.” He confirmed.

Lance was a little stunned, he honestly hadn’t expected him to answer.

“What, really?!” Lance asked, shocked.

The man smiled.

“My name is Prince Lotor, I am Zarkon’s son.” He took a step forward, examining Lance a little closer.

Once satisfied with being a creep he backed off.

”I must inform you that your fellow paladins have abandoned you.” Lotor said.

Lance breathed a small breath of relief. So they did get out. Good. That’s good, Lance thought although he couldn’t help the lump forming in his throat.

“Oh don’t worry, they’ll be back.” Lance said confidently.

Well he hoped anyway. Lotor paused and smile kept on his face.

“If that’s the case, how about we get started?”

Lance swallowed the lump was getting bigger. Two guards from the hallway came through the door.

“Bring it big ears.” Lance smirked.

Lotor’s face didn’t change, not even a twitch of anger. Now that Lance could see him up close, for a Galra he was pretty handsome. Nice hair. Although he seemed not all Galra. Lance wasn’t sure how he knew that but something about him read a little more of something else.

Lotor took a step closer, the guards following him closely as a flood of more people came into the room. Druids, that’s what their called. Cloaked with masks but the creepy witch lady wasn’t there which was a relief. But they shuffled in with metal floating boxes and began to take out what Lance had to guess was torture devices which wasn’t so great.

Lotor began to talk.

“You are the blue paladin of Voltron, riding the blue lion which also is a leg of Voltron. You were injured due to the explosion on the false ship over the planet of Neva. You escaped through a vent but the explosion was rather close to you. You were sent into the atmosphere were the gravity forced you unconscious. Our ship rescued you before you hit the planet. Once on board we treated some of your wounds so you did not die. But we left the majority that were not life threatening. Once you were brought aboard our ship the rest of the paladins used the explosion to escape us via wormhole.” Lotor smiled.

“This is the information we know. You see Zarkon was not one to share information with others. He unfortunately did not leave me any information about Voltron or its paladins. So I must gather the information myself.” He paused as a druid handed him something small and metallic.

The lump in Lance’s throat was growing bigger. He wanted to go home. He was scared. Terrified. But somewhere in the back of his mind which was flooded with terror rose something else. He remembered he protected the team. They were fine and were going to live for another day. Something in Lance clicked in place like a gear in his body was replaced with something stronger.

It didn’t matter. What happened to him didn’t matter. He must do everything he can to keep everyone safe. His emotions became steel and the breath that had been coming too quickly slowed. The fear was still there but that was natural the rest was made of unmoving steel.

Lance looked at Lotor his eyes narrowing and smirk plastered all over his face. He was not afraid.

“Why don’t you just get started then? Quit the chatter.” Lance snarled.

Lotor paused and blinked momentarily surprised. But then his smile grew across his face.

“Oh. I will have fun breaking you.”

So quick. Lance didn’t even register as Lotor took the small metal object and shoved it through Lance’s hand. Lance screamed.

Rough Around the Edges

upperstories submitted: 

Climbing up six flights of stairs was a pain.

Climbing up six flights of stairs after driving what felt like thousands of miles without stopping for anything but gas and coffee wasn’t much better.

But climbing up six flights of stairs with a bad knee, three exhausted bundles of living ink clinging to you like a lifeline, and going on nothing—no real food or water or even a bathroom break—but sheer grit? Downright impossible.

Henry Ross cleared it in half his usual time.

He didn’t care how late it was, how much he ached or how much he wanted to just curl up next to the chipped floor molding and become comatose, he was not in the mood for any of his neighbors catching him as he was. He just thanks god his doorman, a short ruddy-faced man named Patrick, had fallen asleep at his desk before he’d snuck in, like old Patty always did after 11:00 PM.

“644, 645—646,” said Henry, stopping to catch his breath.  “Here. This is it.”

He could feel Boris, Alice, and Bendy collectively sigh in relief, wilting like lilies in the hot summer sun.

Boris was fairing what seemed like the best of them; hand on Henry’s shoulder for balance, but with enough of his druthers to stand upright without help. Alice clung to Henry’s left pant leg, leaning heavily, her black eyes barely open, and not at all complaining when Henry used his free arm to help keep her steady. Bendy, for all his intents and purposes, hadn’t left Henry’s grasp since the studio, tucked against his left side with his face half buried in the old animator’s collar. Henry was pretty sure he’d fallen asleep at least 3 times on the way—he had one hell of a loud snore for a shorty. He hadn’t asked to be put down once, but Henry did not complain. It had been a long day for all of them, but Bendy had had it the roughest—which was saying something, as Henry had learnt that hard way that being turned into a living cartoon was no picnic.

“What’s the plan, Henry?” said Boris, catching Henry off guard.

“Plan is, uh,” Henry mumbled, fumbling with keeping Bendy and Alice from toppling over while he fished for his keys. They weren’t in either of his pockets… where were they?

“Get inside, go to bed. Try to sleep and…” He sighed, “I don’t know, come up with a better plan in the morning.”

“Works fer me,” Bendy muttered, not even opening his eyes.

It was then Henry noticed a small shimmer along the door’s upper frame. Bracing Alice as best he could, he reached up and ran a hand along the top of the door molding and caught something metal on the far corner. Of course. Right where he left it.

“Henr—ry?” said Boris, muffling a yawn behind the back of his hand. “That, uh, don’t seem particularly safe there, leaving yer key where someone can find it. What if someone tries breakin’ in?”

“Not to worry Boris,” said Henry, smirking to himself sardonically, “I doubt anyone would find anything of mine worth stealing…”

The lock gave a rusty clunk, and Henry shouldered it open.

The sound of a rickety radiator and the smell of old newsprint, a faint burnt wood-like scent, and cardboard greeted them along with the faint sting of old alcohol. The light of the hallway cast a thin orange glow into the otherwise pitch-black apartment. Henry couldn’t remember feeling so relieved to see color, faded and muted as it was.  He ushered everyone in and quickly shut the door behind them before trying a light switch. It flickered twice before dimly glowing weakly, barely any better than the hallway light. With a small fzzt!, it went right back out.

“Great,” Henry grumbled. It took a bit of blind stumbling, but he managed to reach a tall lamp next to the couch and switched that on instead. The bedroom was cast a pale light, giving everything a pale bluish tint. “Gonna need to replace that.”

Alice and Boris blinked in the sudden light, Bendy preferring to just keep his face buried under Henry’s chin.

“Well, uh,” Henry said, eyebrows creasing as it seemed something very apparent dawned on him. He tried his best to smile, but only managed a wince and he half-heartedly motioned to the living room. “Here we are. Home sweet home.”

The light made it easier to take stock of just how messy the man’s apartment really was. A quintessential bachelor pad, with bare walls, sealed and opened boxes alike strewn everywhere, bookshelves decorated with everything from empty whiskey and beer bottles to unfinished model ships—and pretty much everything except for books. Dirty laundry littered the floor, waste bins sat overturned in the corner. The kitchen looked almost unused, save for the stacks of pots and pans stuck to the grimy stone tops, and piles of unread junk mail and bills sat on the kitchen counter, unsorted. The couch looked about as comfortable as a sack of potatoes, the green fabric a shade greyer than when it was first bought.  One of its legs was held up by an old phone book.

A thick, sturdy easel and stool sat out of place in the corner, next to a far window, unmistakable in spite of a tarp covered it. Stacks upon stacks of blank newspaper leaned against the corner behind it, book-ended by empty sketchbooks that looked hardly handled. A stray sheet of sketch paper poked out from under the tarp, the off-white paper marred with frustrated, uninspired scribbles of charcoal.

Henry was suddenly acutely aware of Alice and Boris’s stares. He coughed.

“Sorry about the mess,” said Henry, rubbing the back of his neck and looking down, “I don’t, uh, get guests all that often.”

“S’alright Henry,” said Boris, voice no longer tired. His ears had pulled back, eyes downcast as well. “We don’t mind it.”

“S’not like we got anywhere else to be,” Bendy mumbled, peaking up. “Even if it is a pig’s sty.”

“Bendy,” said Alice, sharply.

“Any port in a storm, huh?” Henry shrugged, smirking ruefully. “Alright, alright, everybody to bed. We can worry about this mess in the morning.”

He didn’t need to tell the Toons twice. Henry herded them into the next room, which was surprisingly less musty than the den. There were still more piles of boxes strewn about, sure, but the desk next to his bed was only slightly disheveled, and bed looked well made. Almost as if Henry never really slept in it… or used his bedroom at all.

He led Boris to one end and helped him strip the covers to climb in. Afterwards, he lifted Alice up onto the mattress. Up next was Bendy.

“Alright, short stuff, time to get down,” said Henry, leaning down for Bendy to easily fall onto the mattress. Which he did not. “C’mon, I need my arm back at some point.”

“Can’t here yah, I’m asleep,” said Bendy, pretending to snore, clinging all the tighter.

It took a couple of attempts, but he finally managed to pry Bendy free from his side, his arm practically all pins and needles from the tight hold the little demon had on him. In spite of the little devil’s petulance, Henry gently set him down next to Alice and gave his arm a slow pinwheel stretch. He ignored Bendy’s pointed, pouting glare, clearly not liking being rudely stripped from his warm perch. The fact that a draft ran along Henry’s apartment didn’t improve things much either.

“It’s cold,” said Bendy.

“I know. Sorry,” said Henry. He shouldn’t feel this guilty. “It’s all we got for now.”

The apartment was small, the circumstances messy, the bed a single, and tomorrow looked big and uncertain… but it was all Henry had on such short notice. He only got color back a day ago; he could worry about living conditions later.  

Tomorrow. He could worry about it tomorrow.

He motioned to tuck them in and—stopped himself when Bendy gave him a look.

Why had he moved to do that?

He rubbed his neck and stifled a yawn with his knuckles.

“I’ll be in the den if you need me,” he mumbled, suddenly feeling very foolish.

“You’re not staying here?” Alice asked. Boris looked surprised as well, but Bendy ignored all of them and crawled under the sheets, pointedly looking away from Henry. Something about that stung, just a little.

“Not enough room for all of us on there, Angel,” said Henry. The stinging didn’t go away. He’d gotten them all out, hadn’t he? He brushed it off. “But, uh, I’ll leave the door open. You can bug me for anything.”

Alice nodded, but she looked like she wanted to say something else. Henry waited… and she just followed Bendy, tucking herself between the demon and the wolf without another word. Boris gave Henry a little wave, but didn’t say much more before his head fell back on the pillows. Within seconds, he was snoring up a storm along with Bendy, Alice silently snoozing between them.

“Thing’s’ll be better in the morning,” he said, half heartedly. He wasn’t sure if he was talking more to them or himself. “Promise.”

The Toons said nothing.

Henry trudged to the couch, every inch of him feeling almost as heavy and war-beaten as when he returned to the States from the Front. As he turned off the lamplight, he only hoped sleep would come to him as easily as it had the Toons.

In spite of a million thoughts churned in his mind, clicking like giant cogs. The studio, Bendy, Boris, Alice, Sammy, Joey, their escape, the look on Bendy’s face and the strange ache it left in his gut. Or maybe he was just tired from all the running and the fear and the coffee. Henry pushed it all down, too tired to think, and fell face first onto the lumpy, familiar couch. His arm was left dangling over the side.

Sleep fell over him like a thick, lead curtain. Like a flood of inky black.

***

Henry awoke from a nightmare, and for a moment he thought he was still dreaming it.

He couldn’t remember much, except there had been whites and grays and something about sheep—or was it the 3 little pigs and the big bad wolf?— and a big, empty black void collapsing on top of him.  A faint whine broke through the void, someone’s whine—was it his? When his eyes snapped open, all he saw was black, and his heart wouldn’t stop pounding.

He was back. He was there. Back in the studio. Escaping had just been a wonderful, hopeful dream and he was still there he was going to die there and the Toons Were In Trouble—!

But when Henry bolted upright, he felt the familiar lump fabric of his couch, heard the familiar sound of taxi’s speeding by his building in the horrible early hours following midnight. He even welcomed the musty smell of newsprint and old beer. He wasn’t in the studio. He was safe.

And the Toons—

Henry leapt to his feet and bolted for his room in two easy strides. The door was open. And in the bed.

They were there. Safe and sound. Their silhouettes were easily recognizable, even in the faint moonlight and the faraway streetlamp light

Boris was leaning halfway out of the bed, tongue poking out and lolling to the side as he snored, his feet jutting out comically from under the covers over the end board. The blanket looks uncomfortable small on him. Alice was breathing deeply, her face twitching occasionally from deep REM, but otherwise looking peacefully saint-like. Her halo was crooked and looked dangerously close to falling on her face, disturbing her sleep. Bendy was silent, facing away from Alice and…

He softly whined.

Henry was at his side in a second. Had he woken Bendy up with his frantic flailing in the next room?

No, Bendy was still fast asleep, his face scrunched up tight, hands balling up the blanket and comforter in bunches, hogging it and pulling it away from Boris. A droplet of ink dribbled from his temple, staining the large pillow they shared.

Bendy was having a nightmare.

Without thinking, Henry reached for his pocket and pulled out a grey-stained handkerchief. Praying he didn’t startle the Toon awake, he gingerly mopped the loose ink from Bendy’s forehead. Bendy flinched away, curling tighter into himself. The little devil suddenly seemed very small.

Henry quietly shushed him and continued mopping up his clammy forehead, swiping it in long, gentle strokes. Slowly but surely, Bendy’s hands began to unclench, his brow starting to dry. His face refused to give an inch, his whines only becoming more anguished.

“….mmm…jo….ey?” Bendy breathed.

Henry’s chest seized. He lost his voice, but only for a moment.

“Nah… no, half pint,” said Henry, all the gruff and bite leaving it as he spoke softly to the little devil. “S’just me.”

A pause. Bendy shifted, shut eyes seeming to relax a fraction. “….old m’n?” he muttered.

“Yeah, yeah, it’s old grouchy me,” said Henry, wanting to laugh. “Everything’s fine. Go back to sleep.”

“…stay’ere th’s time… kay?” said Bendy. His face finally relaxed.

Henry stopped mopping.

All at once, Henry faintly remembered something very striking. Something very specific. When he was a young lad, he’d become sick with pneumonia, and despite all his aching and griping and being a pain, his mother had dropped everything— work, her book club, volunteering at the library— to sit at his bedside for almost a whole three-day weekend. It had almost made up for being sick while school was out. And while he was sick, she read him stories. Treasure Island and Huck Finn. He never remembered thanking her for it, but he did remember drawing James Hawkins fighting Captain Long John Silver. She’d tacked up his drawing on the fridge with a green magnet and never took it down. She smiled for weeks on end after getting that gift.

He thought about that memory— that old smile she had where the edges of her eyes crinkled at the edges, and her teeth shown and she wheezed out a quiet laugh.

Seeing Bendy go back to slumbering peacefully, he could only wonder… Had this been how she felt while he was growing up?

A tightness settled in Henry’s chest and a whole different ache fell over on him. It wasn’t an entirely new realization, one he’d been grappling with ever since Boris had shakily asked Henry if he really meant they’d all escape with the animator. Ever since he’d found Bendy blindly running from his own solemn doppleganger. Ever since He’d told Bendy that he was his own story’s protagonist.

He was responsible for these three now.

Now, that wasn’t to say that Henry was irresponsible. He was a hard working, a dependable man of routine, and could even come handy in a pinch. 

But this was different. This was new. This was terrifying.

He was an old, bitter man. No living family left to speak of. Well on his way over the hill. Never had a thought in his mind about marriage or kids of his own, often only keeping his focus on staying alive, both during and after the war. Hell, he never even thought he’d set foot near an animation desk again before heading off to see Gabriel’s pearly gates (if he was that lucky). And yet, here he was, with three cartoons dropped in his lap. Who probably wouldn’t be able to handle living in the real world yet. Who probably shouldn’t be sharing a tiny bed in the middle of a run down apartment on the ass-end of a filthy city.

What could an angry old man with a tiny apartment and hardly anything to his name do for them?

“mmm… h’nry?” Bendy whined. Henry snapped out of his quiet, rising panic, stifling a yelp.

“S-still here,” he managed, feeling his voice crack.

“good…” Bendy relaxed against the pillow, completely at ease. Completely trusting.

The tightness in Henry’s chest finally unfurled, and his eyes felt a slight sting. He covered his mouth to muffle a deep, shaky sigh. Bendy had complete and utter trust in him. Was that a good thing? Did Henry deserve it? In spite of all that had happened these past few days, he suddenly didn’t feel so sure.

But… this was his chance right? He was supposed to figure things out now, wasn’t he? He felt so unprepared, like he’d been thrown out in No Man’s Land all over again.

But then again… this wasn’t like the war. Or the studio. Things were on his turf. If anyone should’ve felt like fish out of water, it was the Toons. He was the one with the knowledge of how the real world worked, how colors looked and how real sunlight felt on your skin.

He had to be there for them. He was going to be there for them. 

They were all he had now. 

Feeling more tired than ever, Henry stood from his seat as quietly as he could. He quickly grabbed Alice’s halo, just before it could teeter another centimeter and drop onto her nose, and after giving it a quick polish with his handkerchief, he set it on top of the bedside lamp, perfectly centered. He set to work on the blankets, adjusting it to be spread out evenly between the three of them— he left Boris’s feet sticking out, finding the silly sleeping position suited the wolf— and tucked them all in. It wasn’t the best, rough around the edges, and the blanket was lopsided. But Bendy re-curled around, snoring softly and facing Alice. Her head lolled, and she in turn nestled comfortably atop Bendy’s horns. Boris snuffled and licked his snout before settling more deeply against the pillow. They all seemed to just… fit together. Like puzzle pieces.

Henry felt that unfurling feeling return, and he quickly wiped his face.

Despite being exhausted, he hardly felt like returning to the lump couch. He returned to Bendy’s side of the bed, and took a seat. He knew his neck and back were going to kill him tomorrow, but he could worry about that later. He had more important matters to worry about.

Like making sure the other three got the best-damned night’s sleep they ever got. He wasn’t about to let their first night in the real world be a sorry one.

Tomorrow was going to be the roughest day of his life, and yet, somehow, he couldn’t find it in him to mind it.

I AM ACTUALLY SITTING HERE WIPING TEARS FROM MY EYES, GIRL

THIS IS BEAUTIFUL.  I LOVE THIS.  I LOVE THIS SO, SO MUCH; YOU HAVE A LOVELY WRITING STYLE HOLY SMOKES.

anonymous asked:

would you be willing to write some more tony stark with peter parker and their father-son relationship? because i think it's so precious and i loved your story with peter getting drunk! maybe you could write something with peter being really, really sad and crying and desperately needing a hug and feeling like nobody cares about him and someow he finds his way over to tony. and before tony can even ask what's wrong peter just breaks down crying, so tony comforts him and hugs him maybe?

“Fuck.”


Everything was blurry. He felt wobbly on his legs; a little bit like he’d been concussed, except he knew there would be pain if he had. Physical pain, anyway. Or blood.

From behind him, people were laughing. It was loud and grated against his ears. He wanted to tell them to shut up; to scream at them, or hit them, but he knew he couldn’t. He was too strong. One punch might kill them, for all he knew.

He couldn’t do a damn thing.


“Fucking…fuck,”


More laughs. Someone shoved him in the shoulder, and he would’ve ducked out of the way, but it would’ve looked too fast to be normal, so he let them. 

“Awwww, guys, look at him, he’s going to cry!” Someone called out, and Peter looked down to the floor immediately, desperately fighting back the hotness behind his eyes. Fuck fuck fuck fuck- he wasn’t supposed to cry, he was bigger than that, he was a superhero for Christ’s sake, he could take a little teasing-

“Oh my God, look at him! He’s actually fucking crying!”


He wanted Ned. Or MJ. Where the hell were they- it was their spot in the school cafeteria, they were supposed to be here, he needed them to be here right now, everyone else was stood around him, crowding him, crushing him, he couldn’t breathe- he wanted at least one person on his side, Jesus-

“Aww, Peter,” came a soft voice to his right, so pretty and nice and exactly what Peter had loved listening to for such a long time now, “you really think I would actually have said yes? For like…serious?”

Someone shoved his shoulder again, harder this time, and Peter gritted his teeth, getting to his feet. He’d had enough of this, he needed to find…something, a toilet maybe, or an empty classroom-

Hands grabbed on to his jacket and shoved him back on to the seat again, and Peter physically fought back the urge to grab their wrist and force them off. He’d hurt them. He’d hurt them he’d hurt them he’d hurt them, he was too strong, he’d hurt them-

“You’re honestly one of the most pathetic things I’ve ever seen, Jesus, Parker,” someone else, a boy this time, leaned down and ruffled a rough hand through his hair. Everyone laughed again.


He was done.


Getting to his feet, he ignored the people who tried to push him back down again. Strength be fucking damned, he wasn’t going to spend another second in their company. He pushed at the nearest person he could reach, and then watched as they were yanked out of place and sent hurtling across the room, falling on to their back and rolling all the way across the cafeteria.


There was dead, stagnant silence.


Peter stared, horror-stricken. Oh…fucking Christ, what if he’d hurt him-

“What the shit?” The boy called out angrily, getting back to his feet and staring across the room with a look that could’ve curdled milk.

Right. Not that injured, then.

“What the fuck is your problem, Parker?” The boy snarled, beginning to step forward, and there was a crowd gathering now, obviously preparing for some sort of fight, and where the hell were all the teachers, shouldn’t they sort this shit out-

“FIGHT!” Someone called, breaking the silence, and then suddenly they were all yelling; chants and sneers, egging the other boy on as he took another step, vicious grin on his face.


Peter had to stop this. Immediately.

Turning on his heel, he did the only thing he could think of.


He ran. 


He ran and ran until he reached the main entrance, and then he kept running until the school was just a distant building amongst the many in Queens.

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infinite

[peter quill x reader]

author’s note: wooo guess who watched gotg vol 2 today. i loved it. wrote my med hum essay and then wrote this immediately after. awesome mix vol 2 got me in the perfect mood for this haha.

word count: 1,358

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after the storm

So the aftermath of the reveal of Gabriel Agreste as Hawk Moth could be all grim dark and terrible. But consider this instead:

  • Adrien is obviously shocked and hurt and angry, but the first thing he wants to do is talk to his dad and figure out why he felt the need to do this
  • He knows that his dad hasn’t done so great ever since his mom disappeared and that he’s gotten more and more absent, but he never would have considered this
  • But of course he can’t compromise his identity- because if he does, then people will start asking Ladybug to reveal her identity as well, so he stays transformed as Chat Noir and starts asking Gabe really pointed, serious questions about why he did what he did and if he had ever once thought about the implications it could have for his son and everyone close to him
  • And Ladybug, who is going through her own existential crisis about Adrien and wondering how he’s going to take this and what to do about this reveal and so worried about who’s going to be there for him now, is surprised by how thoughtful and considerate Chat Noir is being towards Hawk Moth, considering that he the Enemy
  • After they hand Gabriel off to Master Fu and discreetly call the authorities to deal with the situation- knowing that this is a big deal and needs to be handled with discretion before the press gets wind of the news, Ladybug asks Chat Noir if he could come with her to the Agreste mansion
  • Chat Noir is nervous about what his lady is going to ask him to do, because it could compromise their secret identities, and she asks him if he will tell Adrien about Hawk Moth being his dad, because she wants to be the one to tell him before someone else does
  • She wants him to hear it from the source, rather than through the news, and even though he’s hurting more than he ever did before, Chat Noir’s heart swells about ten sizes because his lady cares about him so much, and he decides right then and there that he wants her to know who he is, even if he doesn’t know who she is. She deserves that much, for caring about him so much
  • So he says “Yes of course, I’ll come with you,” and they make their way to the mansion, which is as dark as can be, but Ladybug makes her way into Adrien’s room with ease, and Chat Noir has to bite back a laugh at how skilled she is into breaking into his mansion. the security cameras have nothing on her
  • Ladybug calls for Adrien when she sees that he isn’t in his bed, and just as she starts to get worried that he’s in trouble because he’s not answering her, she feels a warm hand on her shoulder, and she turns around to see him standing there, waving at her
  • She’s not even thinking as she barrels into him, wrapping him in the tightest hug, and then she pulls back and says “I’m so sorry Adrien, but I have some bad news to share with you. I came here with Chat Noir to tell you before the press finds out- but wait, where is he?”
  • Adrien coughs and awkwardly waves at her with a little smile.
  • “You’re looking at him, my lady.”

anonymous asked:

"You cannot begin to fathom the amount of fucks I don't give " #1 Dad David Wymack protecting his foxes ! Xx

He’s watching tapes from their last game with one sweating hand flat on the desk, the other prodding the rewind button over and over again until the loops stop being anything but cheering and colour. Their lines are sloppier with more people in them. He can see where they’re stretched too thin and where the strikers are overcompensating.

He can see the tension in their ranks even though they’re trying to pull together, like they’re slapping a bandaid on a broken leg.

“Knock knock.”

Wymack looks up to find Abby hefting food through the doorway like some sort of dream. She unpacks armfuls of it onto the table and gives him a private smile when he catches her eye over the wavering paused TV.

“That for me?”

“Well this would be a hell of a show if it weren’t,” she laughs, piling a wrapped burger on top of a plastic container of caesar salad.

“Didn’t want to assume,” he grumbles, reaching for one of the burgers. She slaps his hand away.

“Wash your grubby hands first.”

He raises both hands in surrender, muttering, “you let the kids eat finger food with blood on their hands but I can’t hold a burger without scrubbing down—“

“David,” Abby interrupts pointedly. “The faster you clean the faster you eat.”

He rolls his eyes on the way to the bathroom and then rolls them all the way back to his office, keeping his affection in a headlock. Abby’s sitting with her legs crossed and her food unwrapped when he gets back, and he spies two ketchup packets lined up beside his burger, just how he likes it. He’s biting on a smile when his phone rings.

Abby startles, Wymack fumbles in his pocket, Neil’s name blinks up at him.

“Can’t you eat lunch at noon like a normal person, Josten?”

There’s a shifting noise, like paper sliding over the receiver, and then Neil says, “Coach?”

Wymack frowns at Abby across the room. She gives a little questioning head shake with her eyebrows raised, perfectly poised to be upset. He hates that they’re always bracing for fucking heartbreak around here.

“Yeah, Neil. Talk to me.”

“Uh, yeah, listen. Andrew might have killed someone.”

Wymack closes his eyes. Breathes in for three long beats, holds his hand up when he hears Abby shifting to her feet. “What do you mean might have? And think about the words you’re about to say to me, Neil, because if you try to cover Andrew’s ass I’ll get real impatient real fast, understand?”

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anonymous asked:

Hi! Your theories got me like "daaamn these are so good" and I've been thinking about it for days but what do you think about the pre-Kerberos period of time? What about Keith and Shiro meeting each other? What about the time spent together before Keith's hopes were crushed by a "pilot error"?

Oh, I love speculating about their relationship prekerberos. It’s really interesting, because the nature of it is kept in the dark most of the time. We only ever seem to get glimpses here and there. But, from what we know: when they’re stranded together, Shiro’s surprised Keith remembered Patience yields focus–That really stayed with you, didn’t it?” And he looks so incredibly touched by it, you can see how much it really means to him. As for Keith, his response comes easy, “You’ve given me some good advice. If it wasn’t for you, my life would have been a lot different.” So we know whatever impact Shiro had, it was incredibly significant. He’s apparently been there for Keith when no one else has, offering words of comfort and helping to guide him through hard times. 

I think we can all infer “Patience yields focus,” is something from their garrison days, and probably a mantra Keith got very used to hearing. He also very much internalized this–and likely a lot of other things Shiro said. That advice Shiro gave meant something to him, the fact that he took the time to be there for Keith when no one else would quite literally changed his life

Guidebook says Shiro and Matt graduated a few years before Kerberos, so Shiro was an officer by then. But he was still around the garrison when he wasn’t running missions. So I suppose at first, it could’ve been that Shiro was trying to mentor Keith. He saw a cadet who had a lot of promise but maybe had a hard time playing by the rules or staying focused. Or maybe he sees that Keith doesn’t have anyone in his corner–can’t seem to make friends and is always off on his own. So Shiro decides to take him under his wing. 

But I really want to stress that, however Shiro’s interest in Keith started, I don’t think he by any means saw Keith as some kind of charity project. Keith isn’t someone who lets others feel sorry for him, and he sure as hell won’t play the victim. I can see him really pushing Shiro away at first, insisting he doesn’t need anyone–that he’s always been his own and he’s doing just damn fine, thank you. Keith is someone who carves his own path, and I don’t think he’d take well to whatever help Shiro offered. He doesn’t need help. Never has. 

So it starts slow. Shiro tentatively joining Keith at the commissary or offering to train with him in the sim. Studying together turns into sparring together and late night sim sessions where Keith breaks record after record. He’s good, better than anyone else Shiro’s ever seen. But it’s not long before what they have isn’t just a one-way thing. Keith approaches Shiro on his own and is always eager to see him. He starts opening up bit by bit, and pretty soon everything he feels is a flooded dam and he just bursts.

Keith’s always been touch averse, but the next time Shiro goes to shake his hand Keith pulls him into a hug. He doesn’t ever want to let go. The passing touches here and there start to linger–a hand on Keith’s shoulder or a pat on the back, their hands clasped before they come together. Keith’s never known this kind of intimacy, so cloying, sweet relief. Because we know Keith freezes up at anyone else’s touch, but when Shiro reaches for him he just melts. 

We know from Joaquim that, “[Keith] latches onto Shiro at times because Shiro’s sort of the only thing that can really calm him down and keep him in check.” (source). Josh has also said, “[Keith’s] constantly scared he’s gonna say or do something wrong and he’s gonna lose Shiro.” (source). So we know Shiro is very much Keith’s anchor, the one person that can truly calm him down and help him stay centered. We know that Keith latches onto him, desperately clinging to that source of comfort and reassurance, for the safety and solace Shiro provides. 

We also know this is in part linked to his galran heritage, that Keith’s emotions are volatile and oppressive. Lauren has said that his emotions are, “kind of exasperated by the fact that Shiro’s gone. Like he’s having a hard time dealing with [Shiro’s loss], he doesn’t really know how to feel. And I think he just goes back to that inner part of himself where it’s just—he can’t control his emotions. And that comes from the galra side.” (source

And we’ve seen through how Honerva “softened” Zarkon that galra tend to look for partners who can help them manage that intensity, who are able to soothe the sheer overwhelming pain of those emotions. For Keith, Shiro was that partner. The only one. And when he loses that safety? He falls apart. I’m willing to bet the same thing happened after Kerberos–considering he was kicked out, wondered off to the desert feeling “lost,” desperately searching for some new  sense of purpose until–“Then you showed up.”

He’s an orphan. He hasn’t seen his parents in years. If they kick him out of the garrison, he’s got nowhere else to go. The other cadets are likely either jealous of him or hate him. The other officers won’t give him the time of day. Everyone in his life’s already written him off as a lost cause, but not you, Shiro, never you, please don’t leave me too–“Shiro is the one person who never gave up on me. I won’t give up on him.”

So, yes. Whatever Keith and Shiro had prekerberos, by the time Shiro left, they were already incredibly close. And we know this sort of affection wasn’t one-sided either. I know a lot of people tend to believe Keith’s depth of feeling for Shiro isn’t reciprocated, but that’s not the case at all. Yes, Keith latched onto Shiro, thought of him as his greatest hope–saw losing him as his deepest fear. But I believe the feeling is entirely mutual. Because, when Shiro was about to takeoff? The person he brought to the launch wasn’t his family or even another officer. It was Keith. Out of everyone at the garrison, Keith was the one he was closest to, the one he wanted to see him off. 

The truth is, Shiro also has his own walls. Even after spending a 6 month mission with him and having graduated in the same year, Matt is reluctant to approach Shiro, calling him sir. You don’t see that level of casual intimacy there. And Shiro has never once expressed any desire to return to Earth or reunite with his family, even after being gone for a year. Even knowing his family and friends would’ve been told he was dead. I believe he must have been estranged from his family. And as for friends, I imagine a lot of people thought they were Shiro’s friends at the garrison, that he was beloved and revered as a hero. But I think Shiro still kept them all at a distance. Everyone except for Keith.

It’s why Shiro wanted to spend his last moments with him before he left, wanted to take the chance to properly say goodbye. It’s why Joaquim said, “Keith and Shiro have the closest relationship, so there is that kinship there,” and Lauren added that, “And I think the Black Lion probably got from Shiro what Shiro saw in Keith.” (source). It’s why Shiro has fallen into this habit of pulling Keith aside and checking in with him whenever he’s worried. It’s why Shiro’s not at all surprised to see that Keith was the one who rescued him, the reason he asked “How did you know to come save me when I crashed?” instead of “Why?” Because Shiro knew without a doubt, if anyone would chase after him, always be there for him, it was Keith