“Hey,” Michael says, looking at him with a grin. They’re sitting next to each other in front of the tv, controllers in their hands. Jeremy turns to look at Michael who’s facial expression betrays no emotion. Michael tilts his head to the side, opens his mouth and without moving his lips says, “You’re on my side right?”
Jeremy immediately gets the sinking feeling that there’s something terribly wrong but he can’t understand why. “Yeah of course dude.” He swallows, he doesn’t know why it comes out so monotone. “We’re never not gonna be a team.”
The scene changes and he’s in the mall. There’s a hand on his shoulder and he doesn’t have to look to know who it is. What it is, his mind supplies for him. He looks anyway, The Squip is looking down on him, it seems to be larger than it ever was before and suddenly Jeremy can’t move.
You’re nothing without me.
The words echo in his head, it’s the Squip’s voice but the Squip next to him doesn’t seem to be talking. It just stares, eyes boring down into him while putting pressure on the hand still on Jeremy’s shoulder. He want’s to shrug it off, wants to step away, run as far as he can get, but his feet won’t obey him. He’s stuck in place, he can’t even turn his eyes away from the Squip’s gaze.
You’re terrible. Horribly pathetic.
He wants to slump down, look down at his feet avoid those empty eyes, but whatever force is keeping him in place won’t even let him do that. His back is straight and he’s staring right back at the Squip. The pose does nothing to mimic how he’s feeling and that loss of control makes him want to scream.
You have one redeeming factor in your life Jeremy Heere and you don’t deserve it.
He wants to scream. Cry. Yell. Do something to make it stop. He knows what’s coming next and he doesn’t want to hear it, would rather hear anything else in that moment than what the Squip is about to tell him.
Sweet Michael. He stood by your side while you were busy pushing him into it. All alone. Completely ignored. What a wicked way to treat your favorite person Jeremy.
“You… made me do that.” Whatever spell is upon him seems to loosen it’s hold. He can’t move, can’t turn his head away but he can speak. Speak words he doesn’t truly believe, but words nonetheless. “Made me…Michael…” he whimpers. Suddenly the Squip’s grip is gone and he’s no longer towering over Jeremy. It’s like he’s vanished into thin air and not three meters behind where the Squip was just standing is Michael. Jeremy slumps as though his strings have been cut, crashing down on his knees, feeling no pain. “Michael,” his voice is pleading but the expression on Michael’s face doesn’t tell him if he’s heard jeremy. “Michael,” he repeats and his voice is nothing more than a sob, “Michael I’m-” as if the word had been plucked off his tongue it’s gone. He tries again but it’s like he’s choking on it. Michael only watches him, does nothing but look down at where Jeremy is groveling in front of him.
You can’t fix this Jeremy. You were the one who ruined things in the first place and you can’t even do this simple thing.
He can’t tell if there are tears but he knows he’s crying, he knows he feels like his world is being torn apart. Michael hates him, and he can’t even begin to fix it. He’s repeating Michael’s name like a mantra, pleading with him to understand, to pick up on what he’s trying to say.
The next voice that echoes in his head isn’t the Squip’s.
You left me.
I was all alone.
He sobs until his throat is sore.
After everything we’ve been through-
He doesn’t know what he’s saying anymore, only knows he’s in pain. His chest hurts, he’s not sure if he can breathe, not sure if he deserves to.
-and now you can’t even say sorry.
You’re a monster Jeremy.
“Jeremy wake up.”
He startles awake to a rough shake of his shoulders. He grapples with the arms of whoever’s holding him down, his eyes refuse to focus on whats in front of him and it takes too long for him to return enough to his body to realize where he is and who’s with him.
“Michael…” he whispers hoarsely, and the tears return to him. Or maybe they never left. He looks up at Michael’s wide eyes, filled with fear and concern, and feels himself cry harder. Loud sobs tear out of his throat as he unwillingly relaxes his grip on Michael’s arms. In return Michael pulls away from Jeremy’s shoulders, now secure in the fact that Jeremy won’t hurt either of them. His hands hover uncertainly over Jeremy as if he’s unsure what to do.
“Jeremy…” he whispers softly, his voice is smooth and warm in all the ways Jeremy doesn’t deserve and the sobs that wreck his body become more frantic, until he feels like he can’t catch his breath.
“I’m sorry,” he wails and sees Michael’s own eyes filling with tears, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, it wouldn’t let me say it but I’m sorry.” Michael stops hesitating and shifts closer, lays himself down next to Jeremy, so that they’re facing each other.
“I know,” he whispers, not trusting his voice, “I know you’re sorry, I hear you, I forgive you Jeremy.” He lets out a quiet sh sound and reaches up to stroke Jeremy’s hair and presses a kiss on top of his forehead. “You’ve already said you’re sorry, and I’ve already forgiven you, Jer. We’re good,” he reminds. He hushes softly when Jeremy starts to hiccup and forces his arm under Jeremy’s body so he can pull the other close. Jeremy responds by clutching the front of Michael’s pajama t-shirt and pushing closer so that he can nuzzle into Michael’s neck. His entire body is trembling with emotion and he’s still sniffling forcefully, but the sobs have stopped and he’s breathing okay now. Michael will take what he can get.
“I’m sorry…” Jeremy repeats again, his voice barely a whimper and Michael can feel his heart threatening to shatter. He swallows down the lump of emotion that swells up in his throat and only squeezes Jeremy’s body tighter.
there is the ‘push pull’ in scorpio, an inertia met with a storm. there is the very reposed scorpio. emotions are felt with severity and yet the face remains focused and placid. the waves of feeling crash within like a hurricane, and they understands these clouds will pass.
or there is the loss of control, the trance of emotion where the swells of rage and resentment surface, and its mostly the fury at the self that is subjected onto others. they explode and project, also there is the risk of becoming emotionally demanding and exhausting loved ones. the scorpio then feels ashamed about the outburst
and yet scorpio is fixed, but can be trapped in their ways. maybe the person expresses both.
in each demonstration the trauma within remains concealed and private. the scorpio doesn’t want to be defined by his pain, they want to be defined by pure presence and legacy
12. We were pretending to be lovers but I’m not pretending anymore and I have to know if you feel the same way
(I imagine this as happening toward the end of my fake-dating AU that I haven’t written yet, hahaha.)
The word falls from Bitty’s lips, and Jack stares at him, dumbfounded.
“Enough, Jack,” Bitty says, looking at him with eyes full of tears. Damn it, Jack can’t deal with that, with tears from Bitty of all people. Bitty’s been the strong one, this whole time. He’s carried on this whole charade marvelously, been there for Jack when Jack just wanted to abandon the ruse, convinced him that it was worth it to be a little bit fake in order to be completely true.
“Enough?” Jack echoes. God, how he wants – aches – to cross the room and drag his thumbs across Bitty’s cheeks, chase the tears down, banish them. He aches, more than ever, to close the space between their bodies and kiss Bitty. Not the fake, just-for-show kisses they’ve gotten so used to, but a real kiss, one that’s just for them.
Request: Omg could you please do something Where what happened in tonight’s episode with Cas happens, but it’s the reader’s dream and she wakes up and Cas is right there and completely fine and he comforts and cuddles her?? I need this so much rn
Pairing: Castiel x reader
Word Count: a little less than 1k. I know it’s short, but I think it gets the job done.
Warnings: *SPOILERS FROM 12X23!* angst, but it gets resolved bc WE ALL NEED THIS FLUFF RIGHT NOW
You sat on the opposite side of Mary on the bed, squeezing Kelly’s hand as she got through another contraction. It was then that you heard Sam and Dean speaking in rushed, frantic tones outside, and you looked at Mary with worry in your eyes.
Summary: Dean and Sam mark each other permanently.
Warnings: smut, knife play, a little blood play, rough/dirty sex, technically bottom!Dean but it’s obvious that they both top and bottom equally
Word Count: 1600ish
A/N: I have no idea where this came from. Just sat down and this is what came out. Hope ya’ll enjoy, it’s a little darker than I usually write. XOXO
They’re flushed and tangled in the backseat, both of them ignoring the fact that they aren’t teenagers anymore and it’s hard for them both to fit comfortably now. Not that they care. They aren’t looking for personal space right now.
Dean slides his leg over, sweaty limb rubbing up underneath Sam’s, and he manages to sit up without poking an elbow in any delicate places.
this is just a little spec fic I wrote after tonight’s episode. i’m very sleepy and this is very un-beta-ed, but enjoy!
This wasn’t the first time.
The first time someone had tried to break him.
Physically, mentally, emotionally, he had endured so much in
his life, by now he should be numb.
How much easier would it be for him if he just didn’t feel
He had lost track of the days he had spent chained up in
this cold, dark room. The hours he was alone were almost harder than Adrian’s
visits because the only company he had was the words of his captor echoing in
his mind, imprinting themselves as truths, continuing his torture.
Old wounds that had never fully healed had been reopened,
not just the ones currently dripping blood all over the concrete he was laying
on, but deep emotional ones that had been hastily patched up underneath
whatever crisis was more of a priority that year than giving them time to heal.
Adrian knew everything about him, knew where to twist the knife to make him
scream, to haunt him with memories he had tried to forget.
He knew his teammates were looking for him, knew they
wouldn’t stop until they found him, but every minute he spent here made him
more afraid that time had run out, that Adrian had gotten to them, one by one,
before they got to him.
The sound of the metal door scraping the floor caused every
muscle in his body to tense up in preparation for whatever blow would be
delivered to him this time. Would it be the one that finally shattered him?
Lifting his head ever so slightly, he saw in the dim light through
his blurred vision a sight that made his breath catch in his throat.
She rushed forward, collapsing to the floor beside him and
gently cradling his head in her hands.
“We need to hurry,” John’s voice reached his ears. “Adrian
could be back any minute now and we need to get you two on your way.”
Imagine you have to patch up your best friend after he gets injured as Spider-Man.
You were rubbing your eyes as you came back from the bathroom. You knew you wouldn’t be able to see when you got back so you flipped the light on. A small scream escaped your throat when you saw your best friend, Peter, lying in your bed panting and gasping for air.
“Pete!” You immediately rushed to his side and cupped his face in your hand. He had a black eye as well as a cut on his cheek and lip. You looked down at his Spider-Man suit and saw it ripped open, four massive gashes going across his chest and abdomen. “Oh God, Peter.” You looked down with tears in your eyes.
“I’ll be okay,” he coughed as blood stained his light pink lips. “I just need you to-” he coughed again, causing a little bit of blood to drip down his chin.
Your heart broke at the scene before you. You kissed his forehead before letting his face go and standing up. You instantly grabbed the first aid kit from under your bed. You pressed the spider emblem on his chest and slowly pulled the suit down to his waist, trying not to hurt him. You went to work on his body first, knowing those were way worse than the bruises and scrapes on his face. You sniffled and tried to hold back tears as you cleaned his cuts. He watched your every move intensely. When you were almost done with the last cut a tear rolled down your cheek. His hand found your cheek and he wiped it away with his thumb. You smiled weakly and looked into his chocolate brown eyes.
“Please don’t cry,” he whispered to you. You sniffled and laid your forehead against his.
“I’m sorry.” You shook your head against his. “I just can’t see you like this. The idea of you getting hurt-”
“Hey,” Peter’s other hand cupped your cheek. You had no choice but to stare into his eyes. “I’ll be okay.”
“What if one day you aren’t,” your face was serious now. Your eyes bore into his with passion and fear and a million other emotions he couldn’t read.
Peter couldn’t answer you. Instead he just ran his thumbs across your cheek bones, trying his best to comfort you. You removed his hands before starting to work on his face. You cleaned and bandaged the cut on his cheek and wiped the blood away from his mouth. You set the bloody rag down on the table next to the bed. Your hands rested on his chest as you looked over the gaping cuts on him. Without thinking you bent down and placed a slow but gentle kiss on each one of the gashes. Then your lips found his bruised eye. He purred as your soft lips brushed his eyelid, then the cut on his cheek, finally your lips met his. It wasn’t a kiss for pleasure and you both knew that. Your lips pressed ever so gently over the cut on his bottom lip. A sob erupted from your throat as soon as your lips disconnected from his. Your head fell to his shoulder. He instinctively wrapped his arms around you, one of his hands massaging the nape of your neck where your hair was. His fingers moving in circular motions against your scalp. His other hand moved up and down your arm in a comforting manner. You didn’t know how long you cried. All you knew is that Peter’s lips were pressed to your temple and he was whispering into your ear that everything was going to be alright. When you finally calmed down you just stayed in the position you were in, not wanting to ever leave the warm embrace of his arms.
“I can’t lose you,” you mumble into his shoulder.
“You’re not gonna lose me,” Peter kissed the side of your head. “I’m never gonna leave you. Never.” His voice cracked over the last word as he kissed the side of your head again.
You finally got the courage to look up at him. The pain in his eyes wasn’t from his physically injuries and you knew it. You knew that he hated doing this to you. He hated that you constantly worried about him not coming back one night.
“I’m so sorry,” he refused to look you in the eye, instead he fiddled with your fingers. “I never wanted to bring you into all this.”
“Peter,” you removed your hand from his grasp and placed it under is his chin, forcing him to look at you.
You could see his eyes welling up with tears. You pulled him into a hug, his head fitting perfectly into the side of your neck. He took a deep breath, taking you in. He wanted to remember what it felt to hug you because he never knew when it would be his last. He tried to memorize your scent and the color of your skin. That’s when he knew he had to tell you how he felt. He could never live with himself if he never got the chance to.
“I love you,” he mumbled into your neck. Before you could even react his lips were placing chaste kisses on your neck. He started just under your ear, making his way down to your collar bone. With each kisses he repeated the three words over and over again. Your heart swelled with emotion. You didn’t know what to say. Of course you loved him back. He had to know that. Just as you knew he loved you. You both had always known, but the declaration made it finally real.
Peter’s kisses began to trail back up the other side of your neck. Your hands were massaging his scalp as he took his time on your delicate skin. Finally his lips made their way back to yours, hovering over them as if he was asking for permission.
“I love you too,” you admitted against his mouth. His lips attacked yours as soon as the words left your throat. You maneuvered yourself so that you were straddling his legs, your hands wrapping tightly around his neck. His hands roamed up and down your back, every so often rubbing small circles. You kissed him until your lips felt numb. You could see the sun rising from the corner of your eye. After what felt like an eternity and yet not enough time, you pulled away, gasping as you stared into his eyes.
“I should get hurt more often,” he joked. You smiled back at him and shook your head, connecting your lips with his once again.
Hello again! So this is nothing too special, just an idea I had after the finale and then it kinda turned into something that hit me after the RWBY cast was on Always Open. It’s White Rose and I know the last two have been them so promises that the next After Hours will be something else.
Anyway, also wanted to say that Foxtrot is moving along and will have an update sooner than later. I’m also in the process of outlining a new fic for this hiatus that I’m really excited about and it’ll be coming when Foxtrot is concluded.
Enough from me. Here’s some BFF Weiss/Ruby
Despite the fact that she was exhausted and her muscles hurt
from training and it was already past midnight – Ruby was still awake.
It had been an extremely emotional day. Not only had her
sister returned, but they’d run into Weiss as well. They reunions had been
everything Ruby imagined they would be. A lot of crying and hugging and a few
times here Yang yelled at her – then one time where Weiss did. Then more
hugging and Weiss crying and Yang teasing Ruby when she kissed Weiss on the
She didn’t know what all the fuss was about, it was only
because that’s how her dad would always help her stop crying. She wanted to do
the same for Weiss. Yang’s snickers and teasing didn’t even make sense but was
Though that annoyance couldn’t replace the relief at seeing
her partner and big sister again. To have three members of team RWBY together
was so wonderful, even though they all felt Blake’s absence.
Yang had promised they’d find her too, that they’d be
together again. Yang was so confident, so strong and smiling so much – it made
Ruby’s heart swell.
The emotion of the day had overwhelmed her, and even after
Yang went out with Qrow and Weiss retired to the room she rented out, Ruby was
still wired up and unable to sleep.
It had been weeks since that night you found Bucky in the kitchen, bleeding, and if he ignored you before, you may as well not exist to him now. When you trained in the gym, his eyes sought everywhere except your face; when you ate with the rest of the team he would leave the room and when he passed you in the pale white hallways, he was like a horse wearing blinders. His coldness shocked you at first because that night, you felt like a barrier had finally been broken down between the two of you; you hardly let anyone get that close to you and the way he avoided you like the plague hurt you more than you thought possible.
Eventually, you were paired together by Steve and Natasha who could see your compatibility on the battlefield. If he needed you somewhere, you were there without him so much as moving a muscle, and vice versa. It was like a certain telepathy had formed between the two of you and anyone could see the bond you had with him, except for him. Or he just refused to acknowledge it. Either way, the only time you interacted was on the battlefield and the only words exchanged between you two were about missions. Neither of you brought up that night in the kitchen and it may as well never have happened for all he cared.
Could you do 'things you said when I was crying' for wolfstar?
This thing is a fluff monster.
Sirius could feel it building in his chest. He could feel it burning in his eyes. The awful, suffocated feeling of unshed tears lodged in the back of his throat, making it harder and harder to breathe with every step towards the dormitories he took. He had been taking the stairs two at a time, only his heart was pounding too painfully for that now. You can’t run and hold your breath at the same time.
It wasn’t that he didn’t want to break down. He knew how to show emotion. He knew he couldn’t stop emotion. He rode a motorcycle but that didn’t mean he wasn’t powerless under the threat of tears. He just wanted to be alone when it happened. He had to be alone when it happened—whenever it happened. It wasn’t that he didn’t want people to see…
Only it was.
The second he had read the letter from home at breakfast he had felt it. The painful clenching of his heart trying to stay at a steady pace through the waves of hurt crashing over him. He can’t even remember what excuse he’d made to the boys. He can remember Remus’ worried eyes. But none of that matters now. His head is swimming and he falls through the door to their dormitory, tugging at his tie, trying to get some air. His still unmade bed doesn’t look as inviting as it should. He doesn’t want to lay down. He doesn’t want to think about it. He doesn’t want to be alone, but he does…
Sirius slams a hand against a bedpost, cursing. He doesn’t know what he wants, but it certainly isn’t this. The first tears escape and he rests his forehead against the cool wood, breathing through his nose.
He sucks in a sharp breath at the large palms suddenly pressing under his sweater to his hips, warming his clammy skin. He curses internally this time, but he’s too far gone to contain the sobs and the fact that someone, Remus, his Remus, is there wanting to help him only makes him cry harder.
“Hey…” Remus says softly, trying to turn him around. Sirius resists at first but he finally allows himself to face Remus, bringing his hand cup to cover his eyes. He wants the help but he can’t stand needing it. He doesn’t know how to accept it—why should he if he was never offered it before?
Remus’ hands are too quick and he catches Sirius’ hand in his, bringing the fingers to his lips briefly before pressing both of his warm palms to Sirius’ cheeks, one sliding to thumb along his jaw, and the other pushing the hair out of his eyes, getting stray strands to unstick from his wet cheeks. Sirius is trying to breath, and the touch makes it easier and harder at the same time. It calms him, but it makes an entirely different emotion swell up in his chest. It makes him want to cry too.
“Pads, look at me.”
Sirius blinks heavily up at Remus, only then realizing that his fist was tightly wrapped in Remus’ school sweater, no doubt wrinkling it. Remus’ soft strokes on his cheek brought his eyes right back to his.
Remus looks at him steadily, eyebrows pulled together in an emotion that Sirius has to look twice at to read. It’s concern, but it’s also something like confusion. But the look is so gentle and goddamn caring that Sirius wants to just fall into it and never come out.
Remus pushes his hair back again where it had started to fall back, thumb wiping his cheek, “I never see you like this, you know.”
Sirius let out a shuttering breath, briefly closing his eyes, his voice coming out thick, “I know.”
Remus’ thumb catches a fresh tear, his other hand sliding from Sirius’ hair back to his hip, pulling Sirius against his chest, “Is that the point?”
Sirius couldn’t help it, he let his head drop onto Remus’ shoulder, suddenly feeling too tired to stand, “I..”
Remus’ hand moved from his cheek to the back of his neck, fingers messing with the soft hair there, “You don’t want me to see you like this?”
His questions weren’t accusing, simply an attempt to fully understand, an attempt to help. Sirius gripped Remus tighter as he answered, “I don’t- I don’t want anyone to see me like this.”
“Pads…” Remus’ voice was soft, and he pulled back enough so they were facing each other again, arms looped loosely around each other, “I- I understand others but…” He shook his head, urgency adding to his expression, “But this is me. I- I want to help. God, I’m yours, I’m all yours you just have to let me. You just…” He sighed, thumb brushing over Sirius’ bottom lip, studying his face before continuing, “I’m just trying to say I’m here.”
Sirius felt frozen to the spot, gaze locked on this boy in front of him. On willing, loving, kind Remus who, despite having been through so much, was standing there waiting for any little sign, any little word from Sirius, to help. I’m yours he had said. Sirius almost didn’t know what to do with the phrase.
“I-“ Sirius swallowed, eyes flitting over Remus’ features, “I’ve never had that before, I’ve… I’ve never had- anyone…”
I’ve never had anyone say that he had meant to say, but he supposed the former was true as well.
Remus shushed him softly, “I know. I know you didn’t and I,” A note of anger built in his voice, “hate your family for that I fucking…” He broke off, pressing his lips together before leaning forward and pressing a soft kiss to Sirius’ lips, “I’m just saying I’m here now. You’re okay.”
And maybe the words weren’t yet true, but with Remus there, with Remus saying them, Sirius felt for the first time that they might be. One day.
Kit and Ty were sitting on the floor of Ty’s room, backs to the wall. Ty was playing with a bundle of pipe cleaners in his lap, and Kit couldn’t help but notice the way Ty’s eyelashes dusted across his cheeks, they way the shadows played in the hollows beneath his throat and collarbones.
They weren’t talking about anything in particular. They were enjoying each other’s company. In an Institute where everyone was always running around, Ty - and Kit - needed silence and careless, comfortable conversation.
“By the way,” said Kit jokingly. “What is going on with Mark and Kieran?”
At that, Ty looked up. He smiled. (And Kit’s heart stuttered, but that was unimportant.)
“I don’t know,” he said earnestly. “But I don’t think I want to know either. It’s not my business.”
“Though I did saw them kiss yesterday,” Ty added, and something like mischief sparkled in his eyes, just for a sliver of a second.
“It’s strange, isn’t it?”
“Kissing?” Ty asked.
“No, love. Though kissing is strange too,” Kit added. He smiled at the ceiling he was watching.
‘Change the subject,’ his mind said. Talking about kissing with Ty made him want to kiss Ty - a decidedly bad idea.
Instead he found himself wondering how it would be, to kiss Ty. How his lips would feel on Kit’s, how Ty’s hair would feel under his fingers - like silk, he imagined.
“I’ve never kissed anyone,” said Ty.
It wasn’t in the way that anyone else would have said it - with hidden meanings or agendas - it was just Ty: he was just sharing information. He didn’t expect anything in return, not actions, at least.
Before he knew, Kit was leaning in to brush his lips against Ty’s, a light caress, just a breath, a breeze.
His heart jumped, he did nothing except “now you have” he told Ty.
Ty’s high cheekbones were flushed. He looked flustered. For a moment Kit was afraid that he had done the wrong thing.
His friendship - or whatever he had with Ty - he wouldn’t sacrifice for anything.
And then Ty whispered, “Kiss me again.”
Slowly, slowly at first. Softly, gently, he kissed Ty’s mouth, and then his jaw and his neck. Ty went very still.
Kit pulled the other boy into his lap and lifted Ty’s chin. He kissed Ty again.
And then Ty was alive. He kissed Kit, and it shattered his world and made it whole again.
Ty’s hands fisted in Kit’s shirt, pulling Kit closer to him. He kissed Kit with an urgency he had never associated with Ty.
Kit nuzzled Ty’s neck, hoping to hide in this closeness with Ty, to escape and forget everything that wasn’t Ty, and Ty’s lips and his body.
“Now I’ve been kissed,” said Ty and the simpleness that covered so much hidden emotion made Kit’s heart swell inside his chest.
He laughed and touched their foreheads together. And he kissed Ty again.
It was late when they fell asleep in Ty’s bed. Ty was holding Kit’s hand when his breathing evened out. Carefully, Kit kissed the inside of Ty’s wrist.
The moon shone on Ty’s hair, making it shine. It softened the curve of Ty’s gentle lips and his featherlight eyelashes.
I have a few ideas in mind for what to write tonight but I can’t choose which one to write first. Care to help me choose?
#1. Bucky gets into his Winter Soldier get up and experiments with BDSM and your knife kink.Read it here.
#2. Peter (Parker) comes to your aid when you’re stuck as a third wheel on your friend’s date. Classic “I’ll be your fake boyfriend” situation.Read it here.
#3. Bucky decides to play a game. You’re stuck in a meeting with Steve, Sam, and Tony while Bucky slips dirty comments into your ear through a com you had accidentally left in. You’re stuck squirming the entire meeting, close begging for him to stop and just come touch you.Read it here.
#4. Peter (Parker) has you over to watch a movie at his place. You know how things go when two nervous high schoolers are alone in a dark room together- lots of awkward fluff.
#5. You were taken by Hydra, they were desperate to know about the Winter Soldier’s whereabouts. They knew the two of you had a rather friendly past before he disappeared from the Tower one night, so you had to know where he was. You don’t give in, why would you? You don’t know where he is. A month later you’re back in the tower and Bucky’s returned, a swell of emotions ready to spill to you. (Won’t be as angsty as it sounds, I swear.)
#6. You know Peter’s (Parker) secret, you know he’s Spider-Man. But where’s the fun in letting him know that outright? It’s more fun to tease him about it…until you end up in between him and the Green Goblin.Read it here.
Hey friends!! This fic is from a collab with the amazing and wonderful @angstymelon who is a fabulous writer and all around good person :) It’s based off the fact that there was a wall stopping Morality from hugging Thomas and the other sides during the Making Some Changes video. Anyway, it was very fun to write!! Also, it’s very angsty. Enjoy!!
Morality sunk to the floor, feeling the all too familiar cold surround him as he landed outside his door. The emotions of the last video hanging on his shoulders. So much negativity. It really wasn’t resolved by the end either… It left a sour taste in his mouth. The few times he gets to hang out and… actually hug the others? Well, he ruined by upsetting Anxiety and stressing out poor Thomas.
Patton sighed, one hand pressed against the invisible wall that surrounded him. Closing him off. He was alone again. Trapped in his little ‘bubble’ of mindscape… The conversation from mere hours ago looping in his head as he looked longingly down the dark hallway beyond, searching hopefully, desperate for someone else to appear. To look back at him, to see him, to simply try interact with him. If only that was possible.
His heart sank further. The other doors were all shut, no lights beneath them. Eerie shadows were cast against the glass that blocked Morality, isolated him from them, stopped him from having any interaction with the other sides.
The wall that separated them all. Fragmented, as they ‘should’ be, trapped in their own chunks of Thomas’s mind. The wall that split them off, kept them alone and away from one another. Left them confined to their own rooms, to singlehandedly be the characteristic they’re supposed to embody. To do all that work with zero help… zero support… zero love.
Morality knew how to fix it. He knew the one way to beat the solid inviable mess that he was currently leaning against.
The wall would only disappear if he transformed into something he wasn’t.
His chest ached at the thought. But just… to have someone’s, anyone’s arms wrapped around him. To have them embrace him. Providing a warmth that only that touch could give. A warmth that he longed for in his cold being. Patton’s heart was so frozen of late, the recent interaction only enhancing the loss that he felt. So untouched, so under loved. Touch starved. Even Thomas pushed him away when he put on his friends face to pop up beside him.
Patton let out another low breath, trying to hold back the swell of emotions slowly clouding his mind.
To have someone simply talk to him, he still longed for it! To be able to have a conversation with somebody else, in his own form, in the mind. To… to be able to hang out with somebody else. Maybe watch a movie together, sing along together. To be with somebody else.
Morality sniffed, hand falling from the ice cold wall. He slid down it. Sitting and staring at his own door that was ajar. The soft light spilling out and blinding him. Cold droplets soon followed, dripping onto his shirt as they spilt from his eyes.
He tried to hold them back. Honestly, he just wanted a hug.
And yet, he couldn’t have one. Unless he changed himself, shapeshifted. Had his limbs move and stretch to become another face… Another being. Not him. It was that, that only ever made him feel worse! Because if the only time Morality could ever interact with someone else was if he was in somebody else’s body, looked like another person, then was he truly the one getting the hugs? Was Patton really the one holding the conversations?
Theoretically, yes. In his heart however, no. The warmth from the hugs didn’t transfer when he shifted back. The joy of having a conversation faded as soon as he became himself again. The overall feeling of any love that transpired when he was not himself only served to force him deeper into a pit of sadness and loneliness.
Morality was not one to hate, but his anger and loathing of the wall that blocked all the trait’s from one another, the wall the sectioned them off into their own separate parts of the mind, was indescribable. It was the one thing that kept his upbeat personality from ever being more than that, the thing that stopped him from ever being genuinely happy. It tore him down, it made him cry, it made him feel sadder and lonelier than anything else could, it made him despair and sob, and it never went away.
Patton slid his knees up to rest his arms on them, and his head soon followed as he watched the swirling grey pattern on the floor. Watching as tears mingled with the weird surface. He could feel the sadness shift, being replaced by a deeper emotion.
He slowly began to recognise the emotion. Anger bubbling behind his eyes, growing as he stared at the ground. Forcing him to try to breath through clenched teeth. The rage was as consuming as his loss, blinding him as he further curled up against the cold surface that he so longed to be rid of. The substance of his mourning and suffering. The source of everything that kept him from what he needed, from what he longed for. The one thing that kept him from true friendship, from any interaction at all.
More tears dripped and slid down his cheeks, the aching hole in his chest seeking only to be filled by conversations, by touch, by hugs and friendship and human interaction. A hole that was unfillable. It was like a void. Sucking every inch of happy thought away, replacing it with the emptiness.
It was beginning to feel like Morality would never be happy again. He wanted to scream. But his throat was clenched as he tilted his head back, bashing it lightly on the solid behind him with a wince. The pain didn’t matter though. Why did anything matter?
He was alone after all. It hurt. Indescribably so. As if acid was in his lungs. Burning, searing, hot. There was a hole in his heart, piercing, aching, broken. Destroying him from the inside out. Morality was alone, left in that dark hallway. The negative thoughts just got worse and worse, until he was finally completely drained. Morality was empty, hollow and cold as he succumbed to the desolation, to the unendurable pain. There was no reprieve, no end to his suffering, not even when he was found in the morning by one of the others, the other traits only looking at him in silent sadness. Patton was never even sure if they truly shared his burden, if they ever felt the same pain he did.
No, the pain would never truly leave… but for now his mind was empty, limbs limp, eyes shut… For now, he was passed out against the torturous wall. Once again waiting, still hoping in vain for a fleeting interaction.
My ADD is preventing me from focusing on any established fics of mine… HOWEVER, I do have all these random one shots to grace you with until I can get back on track. Here’s another for your viewing pleasure:
She is fast and thorough And sharp as a tack She’s touring the facility And picking up slack I want a girl with a short skirt and a lonnnnng…. lonnng jacket
Jamie was surrounded by 200 college freshmen, the odor of illegal alcohol and barely contained sexuality overpowering the small lecture hall. Of course, this was entirely his fault. He had postponed taking this class for three and a half years, only sitting in the crowded room because he wanted very much to graduate on time.
“Transitions.” That’s what they called it. A required course where professionals come in and talk about their careers for nine weeks straight. Trying to convince 18 year olds why taxidermy was right for them. Or something like that. Jamie never paid attention. He already knew his future.
But, attendance was mandatory, and he could stab Professor What’s-His-Face in the eye for that. With a dull pencil.
“Alright, y’all,” Professor Cowboy droned in that ridiculous accent of his. “Our next speaker is a Doctor. A surgeon Give her a hand.”
There was a smattering of claps scattered through the hall.
Yawn. Another doctor. How many had spoken to them at this point? 10? 15? Jamie should have kept a tally. Lord knew he wasn’t doing anything else in this class.
“Thank you. Hello, everyone.” The lilting English accent whispered across Jamie’s ears, a welcome respite from the harsh tones he was used to in America. He tore his eyes away from his doodles to take a peek at this doctor.
She stood about a foot above Professor Whoever, her dark curls stacking an additional two inches. She wore a pristine white lab coat over her blouse and short skirt. Probably shorter than was professionally necessary, but Jamie didn’t mind. She was young and pretty. Younger and prettier than any doctor he’s ever met.
“As Professor Wilkins said, I am Dr. Claire Beauchamp. I am the Chief Surgeon over at Mercy. The youngest they’ve ever had, actually.” Jamie heard the pride in her voice, and felt a similar emotion swell in his chest. “But, let me tell you a bit about what I do. As Chief Surgeon, I have many responsibilities These include…”
Her voice was a song; expressive to a fault, pouring passion and enthusiasm in every word she spoke. Her hands conducted this chorus, moving widely in flourishes and swings. He thought her very much a magician that captivates her audience with a sleight of hand and a charming smile.
“…That was probably the most exciting. Does anyone have any questions?” She looked expectantly at the class, most of them slack-jawed and wide-eyed. Definitely intimidated by this woman. “You! Red hair in the green shirt! Back row!”
The class turned in practiced unison. Only belatedly did Jamie realize she was talking to him.
“Me? I dinna have a question.” He had many questions, actually, but none were pertinent to the conversation at hand.
“Oh? No? I thought I saw your hand raise…” She grinned then, mischievous little vixen. “Oh, well. Anyone else?”
A couple hands flew in the air, wondering about her salary and marital status. These bored him. He already knew the answers.
He saw her standing by a hand-me-down Imperial Lebaron. She could afford a newer car, no problem, but she didn’t want to. Her uncle fixed it up for her when she got her license. For a woman of math and science, she was a bit of a sentimental.
Jamie ran tiptoed, careful not to splash in the Spring puddles. Arm outstretched, he grabbed a handful of round, white-clad flesh.
She turned indignant, fist already clenched. Feisty wee thing. Her eyes softened then, a honey-whiskey concoction that always soothed his ailments.
She rose to kiss his stubbled cheek.
“And how’s my little collegiate?” There was that smile again, the mischievous one. The one he saw multiple times a day.
“Ach, I’m fine. We had a speaker in class today, ken? The loveliest creature I’ve ever seen…”
“Should I be jealous?” She placed her cheek against his, and whispered in his ear.
“Never,” he breathed back before pulling away. “Why did ye no tell me ye were coming to speak to my class?”
“I wanted to surprise you! You should have seen your face when you looked up and saw me!” She giggled then, dimples pulling at her cheeks.
“I canna believe ye managed to keep it a secret! Yer a terrible liar.”
“Lie by omission. It’s a bit easier.”
“A lovely surprise. Though, I canna say I’m thrilled about this skirt. Ye had boys-barely men!- staring at ye, mouths agape!” He pulled at the hem then, trying to stretch it past her knees. She blushed then, a pink rose blooming on her skin.
“It wasn’t for them,” she mumbled. “It was for you!”
“I ken that fine. But, Christ!”
“Are you going to punish me for it?” She was challenging him, teasing him.
“Aye, Sassenach.” He opened the car door for her. Then, leaning down, nipped her bottom lip. “And ye’ll no like it one bit.”
Summary: You are the sister of Charles Xavier. You are part of the Avengers and dating Bucky Barnes. Unbeknownst to you Bucky is having an affair with Natasha. When you catch them in the act, things go downhill from there. You are a Mutant with similar powers to Jean, only with Immortality thrown in.
Pairings: Bucky x Reader, Bucky X Natasha, Logan Howlett X Reader
Warnings: Angst, Violence, Cheating, Feelings of worthlessness, Depression.
there is the ‘push pull’ in scorpio, an inertia met with a storm. there is the very reposed scorpio. emotions are felt with severity and yet the face remains focused and placid. the waves of feeling crash within like a hurricane, and he understands these clouds will pass.
or there is the loss of control, the trance of emotion where the swells of rage and resentment surface, and its mostly the fury at himself that he subjects onto others. he explodes and projects, also there is the risk of becoming emotionally demanding and exhausting loved ones. the scorpio then feels ashamed about the outburst
and yet scorpio is fixed, but can be trapped in their ways. maybe the person expresses both.
in each demonstration the trauma within remains concealed and private. the scorpio doesn’t want to be defined by his pain, he wants to be defined by his pure presence. commanding, crowned with underworld glory, the sovereign goddess guarding the soul
It was supposed to be fluff and ended in so much angst. I’m sorry…we’re only getting started.
The Choices We Make MadaSaku Part one
With trembling hands, Sakura slowly lowered herself onto the bathroom floor before her knees gave out on her. She exhaled shakily, no longer sure if the churning of her stomach was from what she had just learned or rather the morning sickness she suspected she had been experiencing for a few days now. Most likely a little of both.
It felt unreal. She had thought she had just been pushing herself too hard and not taking care of herself again as the hospital once more became overrun with injured shinobi. With summer about to be in full swing, the number of missions always increased as small cities bordering their country requested the assistance of their ninja. Never once had she considered the possibility of being pregnant. Not until Shizune had teased her the night before when she walked into their shared office to find Sakura demolishing an entire box of donuts by herself.
Sakura would have taken a test right then if not for the fact an entire squadron had been rushed into the ER from an ambush. The women had spent the whole night fighting for the lives of their comrades and while Shizune had chosen to celebrate their victory by catching up on some sleep, Sakura had slipped away to the bathroom.
Another rush of emotion swelled in her chest as she pulled the test from the counter to hold it at eye level. There was no mistaking the double blue line that told her she was expecting, but there was no relief or happiness. Only aching anxiety of what she would do now.