made for movement

“the Civil Rights Movement was peaceful”

Bitch where?

Because I remember learning about Freedom Riders being killed, endless lynchings, dogs and hoses being set on children, and four little girls who died in a church bombing.

Oh, but I guess all that matters when you’re trying to use MLK to silence people talking about resistance now is to talk about this idealized image of how shit got done in the past.

The Civil Rights Movement wasn’t peaceful. It wasn’t nonviolent. Not for the people trying to fight for a right to be recognized as humans worthy of empathy and freedom.

The people fighting for their rights were subject to violence all the time and threatened.

When you talk about how peaceful that movement was as a way to silence or shame people now for anger at current injustice, you’re saying that your grasp of history probably begins and ends at “I have a dream”.

I’d like to take a moment to talk about Bill Skarsgård’s performance as Pennywise, and particularly the drain scene, as it’s the only one I can repeatedly watch a portion of in good quality to analyze his physicality in the role.

Because so much of his performance is made by his movements, even in the aforementioned scene where he’s just a talking head:

Cover up the eye on your right, and Pennywise is looking up out of the storm drain at Georgie.  Cover the eye on your left, and where’s it looking?  Right at you.

Pennywise’s eyes move independently like this throughout the movie, and it’s not a CGI effect. Skarsgård has a lazy eye and while he can focus it, he’s also able to relax the muscle and put it back out of alignment.  And while having strabismus obviously isn’t a choice on Skarsgård’s part, he uses it brilliantly in this movie when he could have just not utilized it at all.  You’d think having a wandering eye would make him seem less threatening (usually when you see lazy eyes on film, they’re on comedic actors such as Marty Feldman or Steve Buscemi).  But he positions himself with the camera so perfectly, making his character seem like a threat who can see through the protection of the fourth wall.  Even if you don’t consciously notice that it’s looking at you, it’s these little details Skarsgård adds that make Pennywise seem just wrong.

(His contorted bottom lip is another of these traits.  That’s not a prosthetic like his cheeks are, it’s just something he does). 

Because that’s the thing about Pennywise: It’s not an evil clown.  It’s not human.  It is alien and unfathomable and everything Skarsgård does with his performance reminds you of that.  Tim Curry’s Pennywise (whom I love and this is not a knock on his take) was an evil clown who was also an otherworldly abomination. Skarsgård’s Pennywise is an extraterrestrial horror who is wearing a clown’s skin, and it doesn’t quite fit.

Just look at the sewer scene: You’re seeing an animal that just came out of hibernation and is so hungry for a meal that it can barely keep itself from revealing the ruse to its prey.  It wants Georgie to trust it, like it, and approach it, and its voice is gentle (for it), and it’s funny and inviting.  But it’s also drooling all over as if it doesn’t understand or doesn’t care how a human mouth works, and it doesn’t know or care how people focus their eyes either.  It’s struggling to hold itself together and it’s very close to breaking: it growls at Georgie in the middle of the scene, and surely it’s learned in the last few centuries that humans don’t growl mid-conversation?

You could argue that it’s not failing to act human, it just needs Georgie to be scared to eat him.  Fair enough, but Pennywise doesn’t reveal its true self until it’s already holding onto its meal in the book.  And in the movie, it’s clearly anxious when it thinks it might have scared its prey away:

(The nerves don’t come out as well in the photo, but if you watch the shortened clip here, around 43 seconds in, it swallows hard and is obviously worried Georgie might leave: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1jwlbgSHZgk)

It’s unnerving.  It makes you shudder even when it makes you laugh.  And Skarsgård puts that much uneasiness into a scene showing just his head, shoulders, and occasionally his hand.  In the scenes utilizing his whole body, it gets even more eerie.

It’s a fantastic performance.  And even more so because some of these things were not entirely under  Skarsgård’s control: He couldn’t choose to have strabismus and the drooling was caused by his prosthetic teeth.  But rather than trying to hide anything, he embraced it, and managed to make things as human as saliva and wandering eyes seem utterly monstrous.

I really hope the sequel gives Pennywise more dialogue and still scenes, because it’s a thousand times more disturbing there than it is when it’s darting at the camera.

9

And guess who is still heart broken with the last chapter from  Of bright Stars and Burning Hearts  ;w; yup it’s me, @kazliin did an amazing work with this chapter, with this scene especially, I was crying during the whole thing aslçkdçlaskdasldçkaslkd.  

All The Times You Slept In Bucky's Bed

Summary: In which you’re tired (literally and figuratively) of Bucky waking you up every night with his nightmares so you take matters into your own hands.

Bucky X Reader

Warning: Smut and Fluff

Words: 4,004

A/N: First reader insert fic that I decided to do for @marvelous-fvcks writing challenge. I had prompt 18 “God, I am too tired for this.”- I’m addicted to reader insert fics now. Expect more in the future.

_____

The first time you slept in Bucky’s bed you had gone three days without much sleep. Your bedroom was right next to his so every noise he made woke you up. It just so happened his consistent nightmares caused him to yell and moan in his sleep which in turn woke you up.

You groaned, head pounding as rest was stolen from you and rolled over. Your eyes found the bright red glow of the alarm clock. You allowed for your eyes to adjust before reading the numbers and groaned once more. 2:36am

You sat up, head aching with the motion, limbs protesting as the desire to remain in bed was overwhelming. You stared longly at your pillow contemplating if you should just give in and go back to sleep and deal with Bucky tomorrow when another cry tore through the air.

“Oh for fucks sakes,” you muttered standing up.

You left your room and found yourself in front of Bucky’s doorway. You knocked, three short raps, before opening it.

“Bucky it’s me.”

He didn’t hear you though, oblivious to the world as he thrashed around the bed. His eyes were screwed up tight, his expression the pinnacle of pain. His hands were clutched in his sheets, twist and tearing the fabric with the strength of his grip.

You cautiously walked over to him, aware he was the Winter Soldier and he might lash out in a moment of disarray. You grabbed his shoulders and shook.

“Bucky wake up.” He didn’t seem to hear you, his whimpering echoing in the room.

You shook him harder and spoke louder. “Bucky wake up!”

He gasped his eyes flying open, the gray hues flying wildly around the room until they stopped on your face. It was like he couldn’t see you and was staring through you. His eyes focused and with it came a ripple of confusion followed by the dawn of realization.

“Y/N s-sorry. Did I wake you?” You never heard him speak with such dubiety before, as if he was uncertain of himself. You breathed in heavily, your ire of interrupted sleep fading. This was not the Bucky you saw during the daytime. That Bucky was somebody who carried himself with a sense of pridefulness and attitude.

This Bucky was a broken and scared man. This was the man who had been tortured by Hydra into becoming a shell. An empty shell for them to forge and utilization. Even tho his form was huge; laying in bed coated in perspiration, his eyes wide and afraid, his limbs trembling, he looked like a small and feeble child.

You let out a breath and motioned at him with your hands. “Scoot over.”

“What? Why?”

“I’m getting in bed with you,” You said simply. His eyes widened almost comically and he started sputtering. Definitely not the Bucky you knew during the daytime.
He made no movement though, so you huffed impatiently, eyes traveling to the ceiling as if in a silent appeal, “God, I am too tired for this.

You climbed into his bed and begin nudging him over. Eventually, he got the hint and scooted, allowing you enough room to lay down beside him and throw your arms over his chest.

“What are you-”

You cut him off, shushing him as your fingers found his temple and began a slight massage, “My Ma used to do this for me when I had nightmares. Just relax and go back to sleep.”

It took awhile for his tense body to start to slacken under you and before long his snores are echoing around the room. You let your hands fall and began to stand up from the bed when his body jerked and he let out a sharp hiss. Already the nightmares are starting up once more for him.

You sank back down on the bed and threw your arms around him. In turn, His arms unconsciously came around you too, gripping you tight as if you’re the anchor to the real world that he desperately needed. The whimpering and shivering ceased again and you realized he’s not going to last long unless he’s holding onto something.

Too tired to care you shifted your position to a more comfortable one and closed your eyes. Sleep cane quick and easy to you laying in Bucky’s arms and if you weren’t so exhausted you might have wondered why. But instead, you drifted and slept well into the next day, wrapped up in Bucky’s arms.
____


The second time you sleep in Bucky’s bed it was the next night. You were up late in your room, filling out paperwork that you had been neglecting for Fury and his nagging was reaching the annoying stage so you sat down in your room at 3pm and kept working well past sunset.

It was nearly midnight when you heard the first strained cry coming from the room next to you. You froze, cocking your head to the side to hear better almost convinced that maybe you just imagined it.

But no; he cried out again and you sighed. You stood, cracking your back in the process, and make your way to his room.

Bucky thrashed around violently this time, a stark contrast from last night. You hesitated, unsure on how exactly to approach him without getting hit or kicked from his flailing limbs. After a few seconds of trying to figure it out, you threw caution to the wind and advanced forward.

“Bucky,” you called out but he didn’t hear. His face contorted in agony and a scream made his way up from his throat; muffled only by his clenched teeth. You stepped forward and called out to him louder this time but just like the night before he didn’t hear you.

‘He’s going to hurt himself,’ you thought and stepped up to the edge of his bed. You leaned forward, bracing yourself on one knee and grabbed his shoulder

“Bucky wake up,” you said, your voice louder than normal as you shook him.

Unlike last night he doesn’t wake up gently. This time he sprung forward, grabbed you, and threw you onto the bed; trapping you beneath him. One hand found itself wrapped around your neck squeezing but not too tightly that you couldn’t breathe. The other hand is pinning both of your wrists above your head.

You let out a shaky breath, “Bucky it’s Y/N.”

You were calm on the outside but on the inside, your heart hammered against your rib cage at a mile a minute. Your brain was a tornado of thoughts, mapping out ways for you to get out of this should the need arise.

He stared at you, his eyes glowing in the moonlight. His eyes didn’t register your existence again just like the night before. He’s still trapped in his nightmare and his brain hasn’t caught up with his consciousness yet. Slowly though the dullness around his pupils ceases and awareness trickles forth as reality settles in.

“Y/N?” He questioned, his grip slacked on your neck and wrist.

“Good morning sunshine,” you grinned, hiding the fact that you were unnerved by his aggression. You slipped your hands from under his and cupped them together, rubbing where he held them in an effort to return the feeling to your extremities.

He jumped off of you, almost like a violent flinch. “Oh God Y/N I’m so sorry I-I didn’t mean-”

You cut him off with a wave of your hand and sat up. “Don’t worry about it. You didn’t hurt me.”

He stared at you in disbelief, raking his eyes over your body as if he didn’t trust you and you were hiding some debilitating injury he caused.

You ignored him instead and moved over on the bed to give him enough room to lay down. You patted the bed and grinned at him. He gave you a dubious look and you patted again, firmer this time, encouraging him to join you. Still looking uncertain and a bit confused, he slid under the covers next to you.

You laid down next to him and repeated what you did last night. It took him a little longer than the previous time for your ministrations to relax him and put him to sleep. No doubt he was unnerved by his attack on you.

But soon his frame relaxes and his breath deepens as sleep overcomes him. This time you don’t bother to get out of the bed, instead opting to roll over and fall asleep next to him.
_____


The third time you slept in Bucky’s bed he invited you to.

You raised a delicate eyebrow as he corned you the next night, moving you away from the ears and eyes of everyone else.

His face was flushed a bright red extending down his neck judging by the hue you saw when he pulled at his collar. He wrung his hands together and looked everywhere but you.

“You uh… the past few nights… in my bed,” He tripped over his words, awkwardness filling the every being in his body, which amused you because he reminds you of a pubescent boy attempting to talk to a girl for the first time and not the super soldier trained assassin.

You wondered if he was going to ask you why. Did he think you were in love with him? Was he in love with you and the bed-sharing was sending him mixed signals? Was he not and it was upsetting?

He was still stumbling over his words- God he sounded like Steve- and you were growing impatient wanting him to get to the point.

“Barnes,” you said firmly and he finally stopped long enough to look at you.

“Can you sleep with me again tonight,” he blurted out, his face turning a deeper shade of red, “Because when you’re sleeping next to me for some reason I don’t have any nightmares. It’s just that I swear, I’m not trying to get into your pants. I just feel it would mutually beneficial because neither of us is getting any sleep since my nightmares wake you up and this seems to help. Nothing sexual, I promise. Not that you aren’t attractive enough because you are an incredibly gorgeous-”

“Okay,” you calmly cut off his rambling.

“-Woman… what?” He looked shocked as if he wasn’t expecting that answer.

“Okay,” you repeated.

“Wait, really?”

“Yes.”

He breathes out a breath of air and runs his fingers through his hair. “Okay. Alright good. Thank you. For this. I’ll make it up to you somehow. Maybe I can get you some food? What do you like? Pizza? Ice cream? Or would you prefer something more practical like clothes or gun or-”

“Barnes.” You cut him off again.

He chuckles awkwardly, “Right going now.”

He walked past you and joined Steve and Sam at the other side of the room. You followed his every movement, pondering on why you’ve seen a different side of Bucky three times now. This fills your head with unanswered questions.

Maybe he is in love with you. Maybe you just saw him at his most vulnerable and he is not used to that so you tripped him up. Maybe the Bucky you see daily is a mask to hide the fragile mess Hydra left him in. Maybe it’s all of the above or not at all.

You’re burning with questions but the answers don’t matter.

And so that night you crawled into Bucky’s bed before the nightmares have even begun and position yourself next to his body letting sleep wash over you.
_____

It’s been several weeks since you started sleeping in Bucky’s bed, so on the 27th night, you find yourself walking into his room after a mission automatically. Your joints are aching and you’re pretty sure your body is one big massive bruise.

You’re dead on your feet and all you want to do is sleep. You peel off your clothes, shedding all but your shirt and panties before climbing into his bed.

You don’t even consider the implications of sleeping in your underwear next to a man. But Bucky does and that night he doesn’t sleep his eyes glued to your dips and curves.

Every sigh you make sends a pool of want and need to his lower abdomen. And so he spends the entire night awake fighting an internal battle within himself.

When the first signs of light protrude over the horizon he practically sprints out of bed and spends the rest of the day in the gym working off his frustrations.
____

The 28th time you sleep in Bucky’s bed he’s getting back at you for what you put him through. You had realized of course when you woke up and saw you weren’t wearing pants. You felt bad for the guy but in your defense, you barely knew how to say your name let alone the implication of sleeping in the bed with a man in nothing but your panties. (And a little part of you wonders why it was so automatic to do that)

Still, that night you make sure to wear appropriate attire but it seems Bucky is not ready to forgive you. He’s dressed in only his boxers and nothing else.

You gulp, eyes roaming all over his body. He smirked when he noticed this before patting the bed next to him. “What’s a matter, doll?”

He’s teasing you and you know it. Your breath shuddered as you carefully climbed in next to him and laid down far enough apart that he can’t touch you but close enough that you feel his body heat.

That didn’t seem to be the end of it tho because he turned onto his side and slung his arm over your body.

His fingers brushed against the exposed skin above your pant line, sending a jolt of electricity dancing across your skin. Your senses burst into overdrive and suddenly you’re aware of Bucky.

How his body molds perfectly to yours. The heat radiating off his skin. His breath on the back of your neck making your hair stand on edge.

Everything in you screamed to take him then and there, but you will your breath to even out and your heart to stop slamming in your chest.

Even still, that night you don’t get any sleep.
____

The next night you both called a truce and slept in shirts and shorts and as far away from each other as possible. Still, the sexual tension remains and it bleeds out of the bedroom and into daily life.

When you’re on missions, training, or even just relaxing the want and need is thick in the air between you two. So much so that the others have started a betting pool to see how long you’ll last. (You pretended not to notice how they conveniently leave an empty space next to him at the dinner table for you to sit that. Or how they’re all suddenly too busy to go on missions with him and volunteer you to go instead.)

It isn’t until the 76th night of sleeping in Bucky’s bed that anything happens. That night Tony had hosted a gala and after one too many drinks you found yourself dancing with Bucky and neither of you can keep your hands off each other.
By the time you leave the gala the want and need in your lower abdomen has grown so considerably you barely make it to the elevator before you crashed your lips into him.

He gripped your thighs and pulled you up to wrap your legs around his waist. The elevator opened and he carried you to his room not breaking the feverish kiss between you two.

You made it to his room before he slammed you against his door and attacked your neck. Hands are roaming everywhere between you two. One of his slipped passed the slit in your dress and found itself rubbing your underwear making you moan.

“You’re fucking soak,” he growled.

“I’ve been wanting to do this for a while now,” you confessed and rolled your hips against him. He growled again from the stimulation and carried you to the bed.
Both of your clothes are off before you even know what’s going on and he’s trailing a path of kisses from your chin, down your neck, between your breasts, past your navel, and to your thigh.

You gasped feeling his mouth attack the bundle of nerves you desperately wanted him to touch. Your body is like fire, burning with desire. Your hands fly to his hair when he sticks in two digits and curls them.

“God- fuck,” you can’t even find the words to say. The heat grows in your lower abdomen and with a cry you’re falling over the edge.

When you come down you find him kissing you again, whispering praises to you. You wrapped your legs around his waist again and grind against him, the feeling of longing and want throbbing in your lower abdomen.

“Please Bucky,” you whisper to him and with a kiss, he enters you.

It’s like nothing you’ve ever experienced before. It’s like all your senses have been dialed to a thousand. It’s like a supernova exploding in your mind. You’ve had sex before but this is different.

A part of your brain whispers to you wondering why.

But it silences as you feel the heat growing again and you cum with a cry. Bucky follows shortly after, his forehead pressed against yours, his fingers entwined with yours too.

He rolled off and cleaned you off, before settling down next to you. This time you’re both wrapped in each other’s arms and you fall asleep, feeling his lips pressing against the top of your head.
____

The next morning your brain asks why again while you’re watching him make breakfast (and ignoring the exchanging of money between hands from the rest of the group).

It hits you like a train. You’re in love with him. It’s obvious now that you think about it and you wondered why you never saw it before.

But you keep it to yourself.

Until the 149th night of sleeping in Bucky’s bed. He’s injured on a mission and in the med bay and you refused to leave his side. Instead of going back to his room, you climb into the hospital bed next to him and wrap your arms around him.

“What are you doing, the bed would be more comfortable,” he asks.

“I can’t sleep without you there,” you answer.

“Why,” he chuckles.

You hide your face into his neck. “Because I love you, you idiot.”

Silence.

And then. “Look at me.”

You shake your head.

“Look at me, doll. Please, Y/N,” he pleads.

You hesitate before lifting your head to look at him. Your heart nearly stops at the look of pure happiness and adoration on his face. It takes your breath away.

“You love me?” He whispers, stunned as if he can’t believe it.

You nod your head. “I realized it the night of Tony’s gala.”

“That was so long ago!”

You frown and feel heat creep up to your face. “I… uh didn’t know how to tell you.”

“Y/N, I love you too,” he says. You let out a breath, feeling tears of happiness spring forth before you crush your lips to his. You want to ask him how long and when did he realize but you’re interrupted by Dr. Cho coming into the room and yelling at you for making out with her patient.
____

It isn’t until the 365th night of sleeping in Bucky’s bed that you finally have your answer.

He wakes you up at midnight kissing your shoulders and nudging you with his nose.

“Wake up doll,” he whispers against your skin.

“Mmm Bucky what time is it,” you yawn.

“It’s midnight.”

“Why are you waking me up at midnight?”

He straddles your back and lays down, engulfing you in warm. “Because I couldn’t wait to wish you a Happy Anniversary.”

This catches you by surprise and causes you to laugh. “Bucky it’s not our Anniversary.”

“Yes it is, wanna know why?”

“Hmm” you ask closing your eyes again.

“Because a year ago today I was woken up from a nightmare by this girl who I thought was an angel at first. She was so beautiful. And then she crawled in bed with me and I was absolutely positive I had died right there and this was heaven. Right then and there was the moment I knew I was I love with you.” He shifts his body and brings his hand up to your face.

“At that moment I knew I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you. Will you marry me Y/N L/N?”

Your eyes shoot open and in front of your face in his hand is a ring. Your eyes are wide as if hardly daring to believe. Your brain has ceased to work, too stunned to remember how to breathe.

You pivot your body and sit up, “Oh my god Bucky.”

The tears start to flow from your face as what can only be described as pure joy is bursting through you.

You manage to nod your head and choke out a small “yes” before he’s holding you and kissing you.

The ring is slipped on your finger and suddenly you picked up and spun around both of you shouting in happiness. The draws the attention of everyone else who bursts in through your door.

“What’s with all the noise,” Steve asks.


You can’t even manage the words and Bucky isn’t paying them any attention, looking at you in his arms. Instead of saying it you hold up your hand with the ring on it.

A beat.

“Oh my god Y/N!” It’s Natasha that’s first to react and she’s hugging both of you. The rest of the others follow suit congratulating both of you. Champagne is brought out and you’re all celebrating your engagement.

That night nobody gets any sleep.
___

The 730th night of sleeping in Bucky’s bed, it becomes your bed too.
___
The 1,647th night of sleeping in Bucky’s bed is the first night you awake without him there.

Your heart clenches in agony and you sit up, your eyes burning with unshed tears. Your chest is heavy with brokenness and simultaneously you feel hollow and alone.

Your hand finds the spot on the bed where Bucky’s body is supposed to be but it’s empty and cold. He hasn’t been there in a while.

You get out of bed and make your way next door to your old room which you haven’t used in a while. When you open the door your heart stops hammering upon seeing Bucky in the far end of the room.

You moved to him promptly and when you reached him, you put your arms around his chest and laid your head on his back.

His hand came up and cupped yours. “Everything okay doll?”

“Yeah, I just had a nightmare about you,” you muttered against his back.

“What about?”

“I don’t remember now,” you stated, the fear of the nightmare alleviating as you took in Bucky’s scent and warmth and touch.

“What are you doing in here baby,” you ask. He shifts and turns around and kisses your forehead.

“Daydreaming.” He answers.

“About what,” returning one of his kisses. He moves down your chin and neck.

“The future,” he says kneeling in front of you and kissing your swollen belly. “With you and our baby.”

“You’re daydreaming in the nursery when you could be dreaming in bed,” you chuckled. Your hands thread through his hair and he leans into the touch, eyelids fluttering closed.

“Come back to bed baby. We won’t get a full night sleep ever again for the next 18 years. We should relish in it now,” you say and he laughs, following you back to his bedroom.

“I love you Y/N.”

“I love you too.”

13 Reasons Why (Tape 1)

Characters: Dean, sister!reader, Mary, Sam, John

Warnings: mention of death, angst, swearing

Word count: 4139

Summary: Dean listens to the first tape that you left after you died. He learns about the rules he has to follow with them, and who the first cause of your decision was.

A/N: italics are flashbacks to the events before your death

Series: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10

Dean woke up around 5am on Monday morning. It had been three months since you, his 18 year old sister, had decided to take your own life. Him and Sam never got a note, you were just gone and that was all they knew. They were too late to save you and that bothered him. Every morning since that day he woke up at 5am. He realised there was no going back to sleep so he climbed out of bed and headed to the door. When he opened the door he was surprised to be greeted with a small box in front of his feet. Dean looked left and right and noticed Sam wasn’t around to have just placed the box there. He sighed, picked it up, shut his door and walked back to his bed.

As he opened up the box he was confused as he noticed that all was inside were tapes. Why would someone give him a box of tapes? Dean rummaged through the box on his shelf and found his old tape player that John had given him when he was a kid and wanted to listen to AC/DC. He put the first mysterious tape inside the player and pressed play.

“Hello,” the familiar voice that he hadn’t heard for three months spoke which almost hurt his ears to know that he could hear in tape form. He must have been mistaken… It couldn’t be!

“My name is Y/N Winchester,” your tape continued. “I’m about to tell you the story of my life. More specifically, why my life ended… And if you’re listening to this tape,” The tape paused for a moment and Dean waited in suspense. “You’re one of the reasons why.”

He pulled the headphones off his head and sat there for a moment. He couldn’t believe the voice or words he was hearing. How could this be real? How could he really be hearing it? Having to listen to the voice of his deceased sister was hard for him, but the only way to find out more was listening to the tapes… So he continued. It wasn’t a fast decision, he took a breath and thought about just throwing them away. But then he would never know the reason why. This was like your suicide note, only in the form of 13 tapes.

His shaky hands picked up the headphones and placed them carefully on his head. He pressed play on the tape player and continued to listen. “As there are to every story, there are 13 different sides to this. I’m going to tell you all of them. Each tape is based on one of the people that are the reason my life ended. So, once you’ve listened to all the tapes you need to pass these on to the next person. If you don’t, well, just know that someone is always watching every single one of you and will make sure that all the tapes are listened to by every person. Now that you understand.. Let me begin with my first tape.”

Dean closed his eyes and followed the story you were telling. “First up, we have the thing that started it all… It was a normal day for you maybe, but not me at all. I didn’t know about hunting or any of that, not until you told me. I went to find you after mom had said she saw you earlier that day, I thought maybe it would be a chance for me to meet my father for the first time. Incase you hadn’t figured it out by now, we have our first person of the story. Welcome to your tape, John.”

Dean realised that John could have been the one these tapes outside of Dean’s room. He almost forgot that both of his parents now lived in the bunker with him and Sam. John must have listened to the tapes before him. Or maybe it was Mary? Since you died they both acted weirdly around both the boys, but then again, Mary acted strangely around you anyway so maybe she had something to do with all of this. He didn’t have time to think as the tape continued to play and tell Dean the story of what happened to you.

* * *

You were a nervous wreck ever since you joined your father and his two sons. Your mom insisted on you moving in with John so that you could bond and get to know your father after all those years of wishing you knew him. You knew it wouldn’t be easy meeting him when the day came, but you never expected it to be that hard.

He told you all about hunting and all his excuses of why he left you and your mother. They were stupid and you hated listening to him explaining, you needed someone to take your anger out on and that person was John. You needed to scream and shout at him every now and then for small things just so you could release some of the pain that he made you feel for most of your life.

But that shit didn’t fly with John, you either did as he said or you were gone. “It’s my way or the highway,” you recalled him saying to you a few times after your arguments. Sam and Dean didn’t live with John really, it was more like John lived with them, along with Mary Winchester. They owned this thing called the Men Of Letters Bunker. The place was huge, so many bedrooms you couldn’t count, you could have sworn you found a new room there everyday.

Before John moved in here, him and his wife (who was also the two boy’s mother) had come back to life after so many years. They didn’t fit into the word exactly so they relied on hunting as what kept them grounded. Sam, Dean, John, Mary and you. That’s how it was. Of course, being the youngest meant that you had to follow everyone’s rules and it was for your own ‘safety.’

* * *

“For my own safety? That was complete bullshit,” you spoke smoothly through Dean’s headphones. “You just wanted someone to boss around, dad. You couldn’t control Sam and Dean anymore, so you made sure that you could completely control me. Before that I didn’t have anyone controlling me, I could do what I wanted and act however I thought was right for me. You took that from me… That’s where it all started going down hill, it’s where I started to break.”

Dean once again paused the tape. He checked his nightstand and saw that it was now 6am. How had time moved so quickly? How long had it taken him to listen to this short part of the tape? He knew he had taken it out at the beginning because it was too hard to listen to, but he never knew he was stalling for so long.

A break from this right now seemed appropriate. So, he took the headset off, left it on his bed and headed to the kitchen to get something to eat. Every step he took felt heavier than the last. This wasn’t something new, it had been happening ever since you took your life, but now it was hitting him harder. It made every movement more painful than they had been before; he didn’t even know that was possible until now.

Once he reached the kitchen, he was pleasantly surprised to see that Mary, John and Sam were already there and eating breakfast. Sam was still at the stove, finishing up cooking some eggs and the rest of the bacon while John and Mary sat opposite each other and ate what they already had. “Dean,” John said by surprise. “You’re up later than usual.”

“It’s 6am,” Dean replied with a gravelly voice that he always had when he was tired. Lately, it seemed to be the only voice he had.

“You’re usually up at around 5,” John noted. Sam came and sat down next to Mary at the table and placed a plate down for himself and for Dean.

“You hungry?” Sam asked and Dean joined them at the table. “How you holding up?”

“I feel… Different to what I have for the last few months,” Dean replied to his little brother. “You know, I actually woke up at 5am again today. I stayed in my room because I found something left outside my door.”

All of their eyes widened as Dean spoke. They looked at each other before John spoke. “So she finally finished listening to them.”

“What? Who?” Dean questioned as he squeezed his fork tightly in his hand.

“We can’t talk about this,” Mary recalled before picking up a piece of bacon from her plate and eating it.

“You can’t do that to me! Who are you talking about?!” Dean demanded as he threw his fork down.

“The last person that had the tapes,” John told him which earned a glance from Mary and Sam.

“The tapes… You’ve all listened to them?” Dean looked around at them all. They were faces of the people he knew, they were his family. But they all felt so unfamiliar, like strangers with secrets.

“We can’t talk about it, you need to listen to the tapes,” Sam finished before taking his plate over to the trash can and throwing his food away.

“Are any of you on there? Who is the ‘she’ that you’re talking about? Is it someone else on the tapes?” Dean asked quickly, not giving them time to answer any of them as he continued. “Are you all on the tapes?”

“Dean, we can’t,” Mary snapped. “You have to just listen to the tapes, everyone on there had to.”

He stood up and made his way to the exit of the kitchen but stopped in his tracks.

“It’s hard to listen to,” Dean admitted with a sad voice. He stood in the door way as he spoke to them. “It’s the voice of my dead sister.”

“Dean!” John hissed. He looked at his son standing in there, he looked so heartbroken and vulnerable. “Please son, just listen to the tapes.”

Dean glared at them all. If looks could kill, they would all be dead in a second. He stormed off and went back to his room, it turned out he didn’t get any food or a drink to soothe his feelings of anxiety right now. He returned in the same state he was in before. Dean placed the headset back on his ears and continued to listen to John’s tape.

“But that wasn’t all, was it dad?” You questioned rhetorically. “No, you did more than just boss me around. When you realised you couldn’t do it anymore, you did the only thing that you thought you could do to end the lack of control…”

* * *

It was a few months after you had moved into the bunker and began your training to become a hunter. It wasn’t the physical side of it all because you already knew how to fight after your countless years of being bullied at school. That’s why the boys and your dad were so okay with you going hunting with them; they knew you could take care of yourself.

It was the research of it all. You weren’t used to connecting the dots with how certain monsters acted or what they did with how the victims had died. You gradually became better at it, but you weren’t as good as your brothers because they grew up doing it. You knew that. You understood that.

John didn’t seem to though. All he did was compared you to Sam and Dean and demanded that you become a smarter person. That wasn’t something you could just do, you can’t just snap your fingers one day and get what you want. You have to work for shit like that, it takes time and patience… But those were two things that John lacked.

It was that one day in the motel you were all staying in. The report in the paper said that the bystanders smelled sulphur after the woman was attacked. That was easy enough to figure out, right? Wrong. You weren’t trained enough in the mythology of monsters and you had no idea that sulphur was a sign of demons. You read past it and said there was nothing in there that could have been your kind of thing.

John insisted that you had missed something, just like he always did. You hated when you had to look for cases in the paper. Either you would misjudge it and say you had found a case or you would read past it too quickly and not realise that there was your kind of thing going on. No. You never got it right, so John always checked.

He held the paper in his hand as he sat opposite you at the small table in the motel. You watched nervously as his eyes scanned over the front page and read about the current murder spree going around. “Jesus Christ,” he groaned as he slammed the paper down on the table. “You’re kidding me right, Y/N? You don’t see a case here?”

“Uh, no, sir,” you replied shakily. Sam and Dean noticed your worry from where they were sitting on the beds. Mary was currently out on a supply run.

“It says here the by passers could smell sulphur,” John stated as he looked over at his sons.

“So what are we thinking, a demon?” Dean asked while he continued to clean his gun.

John clicked his tongue and Dean’s answer as if it was obvious. “Exactly… A demon.”

“A demon?” You questioned as you looked between all of them.

“The smell of sulphur is an instant alert for a demon,” Sam told you with a smile. He didn’t mind teaching you, he actually enjoyed it. He liked passing on his knowledge with you and helping you become a better hunter. He had patience… John didn’t.

“Yeah,” John snapped. “Every hunter should know that.”

You hated when he got like this because you instantly knew it was a dig at you and you were tired of it. The boys saw nothing of it because they didn’t pay enough attention. That’s why they thought you were in the wrong when you snapped back.

“Well, I’m still new at this so you can’t expect me to know everything,” you hissed which got John’s back up. You were glad it pissed him off, it was time that he took you seriously.

“You do not speak to your father like that!” He shouted as he stood from his chair and pushed it back aggressively.

You stood up too so you could regain dominance in the conversation. “What kind of father are you? I barely even know you!”

“This isn’t about me,” he replied with a steady tone.

“Yes it is!” You screamed. “This is about you… This is about what you didn’t do. You weren’t there because you were too busy hunting with your other family. And yes, I know that you died when I was a kid, but even when you came back to life you didn’t bother looking for me.”

“I thought we were past this,” he growled with flared nostrils.

“We are. We are past this,” you lied. You weren’t over it, but you had to pretend you were for the sake of everyone else. “I’m not reminding you about it because I’m hurt, I’m reminding you because you need to understand my point of view. I’m not good at researching cases with you because I was never here for it. And you’re not good at being a father to me because you were never there.”

When you finished your statement it was as if the world stopped for a minute. You came to terms with what you had said and realised that you meant it; John wasn’t as accepting towards the statement as you were. The boys both gasped as they saw John’s hand being drawn back.

Before you could react to his movement, John’s hand made harsh contact with your cheek. It was enough force that if pushed you to the floor. You breathed heavily as you stood up; you were holding your hand against your cheek in disbelief.

“You asshole!” You growled as your stood on your feet. “You fucking asshole!”

“What the hell is going on?” Mary demanded as she walked through the door. “Y/N? What happened to your face?”

“It was dad! He slapped me!” You screamed. “You’re a dick, how could you?!”

“Dad, you crossed the line,” Sam said. “You don’t hit your kids.”

“Things just got out of hand,” Dean insisted. “They should never have gone this far, you need to talk about this and sort it out because this shit has been going on for too long. All you do is argue with each other over the smallest things.”

“Dean! He hit her!” Sam defended as he stood up in annoyance.

“We’ve all hit each other! Hell, we’ve tried to kill each other before,” Dean recalled. You couldn’t believe Dean would actually try and defend his father, you thought he had changed.

“Why are you defending him?!” You fumed.

“I’m not,” Dean said calmly. He put his arms up in defence as he continued to talk. “All I’m saying is we have all done terrible things to each other, our family is messed up. This is something that’s needs to be dealt with and then we move on.”

You scoffed at his words. John looked down at you the same way he always did, his eyes full of hatred and boiling with anger. “There’s nothing to talk about. I want you gone, Y/N.”

“But-”

“No!” John spat. “I want you gone, get the fuck out of here. Go back to living with your mom, the hunting life isn’t for everyone and you’re most definitely not meant to be a hunter.”

You couldn’t believe the words that were leaving his mouth. You looked at your brothers and saw that even they didn’t know what to say. You grabbed your things, threw them into a backpack and walked out like you weren’t even bothered. But of course you were. You were so desperate for one of them to follow you and beg you to come back… But no one ever did.

* * *

“You hit me in the face. It hurt. But not as much as it hurt when you hit me with rejection and hatred. You wanted me gone… I hated you, John, more than I had ever hated anyone. You felt the same way about me and I wasn’t going to stick around for that so I headed back to my moms.”

Dean once again removed the headphones and paused the tape. There wasn’t long left of this tape but it was so hard for him to listen to. He checked his clock on his nightstand once again and saw that it was now 1:35pm. Food. He needed food.

Another walk to the kitchen with pain in his steps led to a nervous feeling in his stomach. What John had done to you was so bad, what if Dean’s was worse? What if he had hurt you but had no idea that it had affected you so badly? Dean was pulled out of his thoughts when he saw his father sitting alone at the kitchen table and drinking a beer.

“Hey, son,” he said with a soft voice. “You doing ok?”

“I’m great,” Dean snapped. “I won’t talk to you and piss you off though, I don’t wanna get a beating.”

John sighed and rubbed his palm over his face. “You listened to my tape.”

“I haven’t finished it yet,” Dean shook his head. “It’s still hard to listen to.”

John didn’t reply to what Dean said, he just took another swig of his beer and stared at the wall. Dean went to the fridge and pulled out some left over bacon that was cooked that morning. He put the plate in front of him and his father at the table as he came and sat opposite him. “Stop staring at the wall and look at me,” Dean demanded. John looked at the disappointment in his sons eyes. “Feeling sorry for yourself won’t bring her back.”

Now he saw something in John that he had never let him see before. It was weakness. “I remember that day,” Dean continued. “I remember that I defended you when you hurt her because I was scared that what you did would make her leave. I was selfish and I wanted her to stay so I tried to justify what happened.”

“Son-”

“I’m not finished,” Dean snapped. “What you did drove her away from our family… The only reason she came back was because she had nowhere else to go after she went home and found her moms dead body. If you didn’t send her away she would never had seen that.”

“You don’t think I know that!” John shouted which caught Dean by surprise. He sighed as he realised his anger had once again got the better of him. “Dean-” his voice was steady and low, “-the reason I did that to her was to protect her.”

“You hit her to protect her?” Dean demanded.

“I pushed her away to protect her,” John said as tears began to form in his eyes. “Before I slapped her I kept snapping at her and being nasty to her because I wanted her to leave so she could be safe. I knew that if I told her that she wouldn’t leave, and no matter how many times I shouted at her or was a complete dick to her she would just get upset… But she would stay. I had to do something that would finally make her leave; I had to make her think that I hated her so that she would hate me. If she stayed with us she would have continued to hunt and I wanted better for her.”

John wiped his tears away before drinking more of his beer. It was as if he thought the alcohol would soothe the sting, but it only made it worse. “I loved my baby,” he cried. “She was my only daughter and she made me proud every day. I’ll never get a chance to tell her that.”

Dean shook his head. He understood why John did what he did and he sympathised with him, but it didn’t matter. That wouldn’t bring you back. It wouldn’t fix anything. “She’s dead because you were too scared to love her.”

Dean didn’t plan on saying it, it was just a thought that popped into his head but he needed to get it out. Secrets were one of the reasons you ended your life, he didn’t want to keep them anymore.

John had no idea how to respond to Dean. How could someone reply to that? He was one of the causes of his daughters death because he was a coward. Dean didn’t even know what to think anymore. He needed to know more. He had one more bite of the bacon before he put the plate back in the fridge and headed back to his room.

They were still there when he got back. He didn’t know what he was expecting, but he was hoping that the tapes weren’t real and that you were still there in the bunker. When you moved in you told him that you wanted your room next to his so you could knock on the wall if you wanted to talk to each other.

He picked the tape player up, it felt colder than when he last held it. A chill shot down his spine as he thought about the tapes again and how they were all you left behind. Your voice played again in his ears.

“After you kicked me out, dad, I went back for my mom. I ran in to my house, crying my eyes out because of what you did. I wanted comfort from my mom,” you explained. “She was all I needed right at that moment because in my whole life she was all I ever had. But I never got to speak to her… I went into her room and found her covered in blood. She didn’t move… Or breathe… She did nothing.”

Your voice broke as you spoke about your mothers death and Dean closed his eyes at the thought. “And this, ladies and gentlemen, brings me to my second tape. And you know who you are when I say that on my next tape, we’re going to talk about the person that murdered my mother.”

Tags ~

@jarpadobrien @thejulietfarciertlove @bluecookiesandbooks @little-miss-padfoot @thisnoticeisnotworthnoticing @catcherofdreams22 @fabulouslycassie@uchihababeee @lust-for-pan @weirdrandomunknownperson @you-didnt-see-that-cuming @thegreatficmaster @chloemwinchester

Aliens and Autism

But aliens learning about autistic people and being confused by our behavior !

“But why don’t you treat them equally as well?”

“No, we totally do!” The human, Lorie by name, looked hurt and confused.

‘Todd’ (their name was very very long but they liked this English human name) shook their head. “No, you don’t. You treat them like they aren’t as marvelous as the rest of your species. One said they were made to feel ‘broken’ when we spoke. That is not good.”

Lorie reeled. “I… I thought we had started doing better. Accommodating their illness.”

“Illness?” Todd was confused now. “But they are not ill. They are not made to the same neurological specifications as what your medicine defines as nominal for your species, but they are as exceptional and unique as your entire species amongst us. Your species seems to have an exceedingly arbitrary limit to how much a person may be ‘eccentric’ before you shun them.”

Lorie’s cheeks heated. “I’m ashamed, but they make us uncomfortable.

“But you tolerate Bill, and he is obnoxious, makes unwanted references to mating, and prioritizes physical contact over others comfort. He just received a promotion. Does he not make you uncomfortable?”

The human tech couldn’t meet the Yotruvan’s eyes. “I suppose you need a mirror to see your own face. Thanks, Todd.” She smiled but Todd did not think she was happy, and he was confused.

Days later, Potre pulled Todd aside. “Hey, Todd?” The Yotruvan remembered not to look this human in the eye and kept the amount of space they were comfortable with.

“Yes, Potre?”

“Did you talk to the other humans? About me. Me, I mean.”

Todd could not judge their emotional state by their voice, but their posture seemed to express fear and hope, an odd combination. Yotruvans expressed little in tone or facial expressions but their amorphous body made them excellent at displaying and reading body language. “I asked why they treated autistic members of your species poorly.”

“Oh. Thanks.” Potre made a small movement and Todd nodded, acknowledging their gratitude and friendship. Potre walked down the hall and Todd was left again wondering at how often humans would thank others and never explain what they meant.

Remarkable species. Always surprising.

Submitted by: @katjohnadams
Come Back to Me (Part Four)

Fandom: Marvel
Ship: Peter Parker x Reader
Requested: Yes
Genre: Angst
Warnings: Car Accident, Kinda Claustrophobia, Injuries/Bruising, Crying

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Five Part Six Part Seven Part Eight Part Nine Part Ten

Originally posted by sincerelysaraahh

Ever since the night Peter hadn’t come to your house because he was taking care of May two weeks ago, he made sure to send you a text every night to tell you he would be coming over. It made you feel guilty for making him feel bad, but you couldn’t help but be relieved every time your phone vibrated with a text from him.

Tonight when he texted you, it read about a car chase that he was going to try to stop. He said that he probably wouldn’t be over until late, and you sighed, moving from your bed to make yourself another cup of coffee to keep your tiredness at bay.

You walked into your kitchen, thankful both your parents were out of town on a  business trip so you could make all the noise you wanted to. You turned the coffee machine on, waiting for it to heat up, and you opened the cupboard to take out the bag of coffee grains.

You were met with an empty cupboard. You groaned and threw your head back in annoyance, realizing you would have to go out and buy more coffee. Knowing Peter wouldn’t arrive for a while, you decided to take the trip to the convenience store. You went into your room, opening your bedroom window just in case Peter finished earlier than he said he was. You grabbed some money and slipped on a sweatshirt and shoes before venturing off into the dark night.

You warily watched your surroundings as you made your way down the multiple streets towards the convenience store, knowing that someone who Peter would usually go after on a night like this could be lurking around you.

Your nerves stayed on edge until you reached the store with the glowing “Open 24/7″ sign on the door. You allowed yourself to calm down as you walked inside, murmuring a small ‘hello’ to the half-asleep person at the counter who startled awake when the bell over the door rang. You calmly strolled the aisles, looking for the coffee, not in a rush so you could try to waste the time until Peter would be done with his crime-fighting for the night.

When you finally found the aisle with the multiple brands of coffee, you grabbed the bag you always bought and made your way to the counter. The employee only looked mildly annoyed that you had woken him from his nap, but you chose to ignore his slight glare as you reached into your sweatshirt pocket to fish out the ten dollar bill you had grabbed before leaving the house.  

You pulled it out and handed it over to him, and your hand was still in mid-air when you heard a loud screech outside of the store. Both yours and the employee’s heads turned towards the front of the store to look through the large glass windows. The sight in front of the store made you gasp, and the money in your hand fell to the ground beneath you. 

Two cars sped through the street coming towards the convenience store, and behind them, was Spiderman. He swung from buildings, trying to catch up to the fast-paced cars. He reached the one closest to him and knocked the driver out, but the car lost control without anyone operating it and slammed into the first car. The cars neared closer and closer to the convenience store as the shock of the second car slamming into the first one registered onto the first driver’s face. The surprise distracted him, causing him to turn around and look at the damage, but he didn’t have enough time to turn before the convenience store doors were right in front of his face. 

Spiderman was behind them, trying to web the car backwards before it could make impact, but it was too late. 

You watched as the cars neared closer, and you tried to run to the other side of the store so you wouldn’t be in the direct line of damage, but it seemed as though it happened in seconds.

The cars were too quick, and you watched them smash through the storefront and into the first three aisles of the store. You were in the fourth aisle. The impact caused a domino effect, each aisle falling backwards onto each other, and the third falling onto you. You fell to the ground, yelping as you slammed to the ground and felt an immediate, painful weight on top of your back. 

You began to panic when you tried to move but couldn’t budge. You tried to lift yourself up, but the weight of two aisles-worth of shelves on top of you was too much for your strength. The panic led to fear, and the fear led to tears forming in your eyes as you still struggled to move. 

“Help!” You yelled, beginning to sob when you heard nothing in response. You were sure the boy at the counter had escaped through the back door. You were all alone.

“Help!” You screamed louder, hoping for someone to hear you. You knew Peter wouldn’t just leave something like this as his duty as Spiderman. He would have to come in and see if anyone was hurt. He would have to.

“Help, please,” you said, the volume in your voice lowering as your sobs overwhelmed you. “Peter,” you cried even harder, waiting for him to come and save you. “Peter, please,” you began to hyperventilate as the thought of being trapped under here for a prolonged period of time entered your mind.

You sobbed and cried and yelled for who knows how long until you heard his voice. “Hello? Is anyone in here? Hello?” He sounded panicked as well, and you were sure he had heard the loud sobbing from inside the store with the enhanced hearing his suit gave him.

“Peter!” You sobbed loudly, and you were met with silence for a few moments, until you heard a soft, “(Y/N)?”

“Peter,” you replied, still sobbing, but you began to feel relief after hearing his voice. “Peter, help me. Please.”

You heard him rustle around, trying to find the source of your voice. “I’m coming, (Y/N), it’s okay. I’m right here.”

You continued to cry until you heard him come closer to you. “I’m gonna lift this up now, okay?” He said with a calm voice, though you were sure you could hear some panicked undertones mixed in.

“Okay,” you said, voice shaking and cracking. When you felt your back be relieved of the weight, you expected to be relieved of pain along with it. You were wrong. If anything, the pain was worse without the heavy weight to distract you from it, and you cried out as various spots in your back began to throb with pain.

“Are you okay?!” Peter asked, the panic more evident in his voice. 

“It hurts,” you cried, moving your sore arm to hold your back now that it wasn’t trapped down anymore. You heard a loud crash and looked up to see Peter had pushed the two aisles to the opposite direction. He knelt down next to you, and although you couldn’t see his facial expression through the mask, you could tell by his shaky breathing that he was worried.

“I’m gonna try to pick you up now, just stay still for me,” he whispered and wrapped one arms around your legs. He wrapped the other around your back, and you cried out again, but he didn’t move his arm. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he whispered, the panic in his voice now replaced with heavy guilt. He stood up with you in his arms, and the movement made the pain in your back even worse, but you bit your lip to try to silence the whimpers. You continued to cry. “It’s okay, you’re okay. I’m right here, (Y/N),” he whispered to you, but you kept on crying. 

“(Y/N), (Y/N), look at me for a second,” he said, and you looked up at him to see him pulling up the mask to his forehead. “I’ve got you, okay? I’m right here with you. Now stop crying,” he began to whisper, and he pressed his forehead against yours. This was the closest you had ever been to him, and it served as a good distraction. Your tears began to stop. “Just hold onto me, okay?” 

You hummed a quiet “mhm”, and Peter pulled his forehead away from where it was resting against yours. He pushed his mask back over his face, and as he ran out of the store, you looked at the damage behind you. You noticed both of the men webbed inside of their respective cars, one conscious and one not, with a note on the first car. You couldn’t bring it in yourself to try to read it. 

Peter adjusted his grip on you to only one arm wound tightly around your waist as he used the other to swing from building to building quickly. You buried your head in the crook of his neck, not wanting to see the distance between the two of you and the ground. You kept your head tucked into his neck, and when you felt him softly land on ground, you looked up to be met with your bedroom.

Peter gently set you down on your bed, and you winced when his arm grazed your back as he set you down. He turned around, ripping his mask off his face and throwing it onto your desk. He turned on your lamp and closed your bedroom door. He leaned his head against the door, his back facing you, breathing heavily. He stayed that way for a few minutes, and although it may have been silent to him, your heartbeat in your ears was beating too loudly for you to have realized he began to speak.

He had turned around and was now looking at you with furrowed eyebrows and watery eyes. You turned your head toward him. “Did you say something?”

“Turn on your stomach,” he said, walking to your bedside. You followed his words, grimacing as you turned around. You breathed heavily, clenching your teeth to not make any noises that showed your pain. “Can I lift your shirt up a little bit?” He asked, and when you nodded, you felt his hands lift your sweatshirt up a small amount. You suddenly felt nervous, and your bedroom felt all too small for only the two of you. 

Peter breathed out heavily from behind you and you turned your head to look at him. You saw the guilt evident on his face. “I’m so sorry, (Y/N),” he whispered, clearly trying not to cry. “This is all my fault.”

“Take a picture of it, I want to see it,” you said, handing him your phone from your sweatshirt pocket. You noticed it was now slightly cracked, and you sighed, knowing it was from the impact of falling to the ground. He took it from you, taking the picture and handing it back to you.

You gasped when you saw the image on the screen. Your back was covered in small cuts everywhere, and the entirety of it was already starting to become purple. You sighed, turning around again and wincing. “It’s not your fault, Peter.”

He shook his head, opening his mouth to speak, but he closed it when you took his hand in yours. You tugged his arm towards you, signaling that you wanted him to get into bed next to you. He let go of your hand and turned your lap off before stealthily crawling over you without touching you. He laid down beside you. You turned on your side to lay your head on his chest, and he wrapped his arm around your shoulders when you did so. 

You didn’t care that this was probably crossing every boundary you had set in your mind about him, but you didn’t care. You needed the comfort right now.

“Thank you for saving me, Peter,” you whispered into the darkness. You heard him sniffle from above you, and you wiped at your cheeks to get rid of the stains of dried tears.

“I’m sorry this happened to you,” he whispered in reply. “I never wanted me being Spiderman to harm you in any way. This happened because of me.”

“No, it didn’t,” you said in return, slapping him lightly on the chest to try to make light of the situation. He didn’t laugh, and you sighed. “You were trying to get dangerous people off the street. And you succeeded, you caught them. It just took a slightly wrong turn. But everyone is okay.”

“You got hurt,” his voice cracked and he turned his head away from you to face the wall. 

“I’m okay, Pete,” you whispered, lifting your head up and lightly turning his head towards yours with your hand. “You were the one who got me out of there. You saved me, okay?”

He sniffled again, a tear falling down his cheek. You wiped it away.

“Why are you crying?” You were still whispering, and the two of you still stared into each other’s eyes.

“I don’t like seeing you hurt,” he said, and looked down to avoid your eyes. You thought you could see a light blush on his cheeks, but it was too dark to tell. “Hearing you cry and yell my name like that, it just- I don’t like seeing you hurt.”

“Peter,” you said, slightly louder. He looked back up at you. “It’s just some bruises. They’ll go away.”

“Yeah,” he said, nodding, trying to convince himself. “Yeah, you’re right.” 

He looked away again, clenching his jaw to prevent himself from crying anymore. You rested your head back on his chest, listening to his heartbeat through the suit. The two of you laid there in silence, resting, and as you began to feel yourself doze off in his arms, he moved from under you. He began to take his arm away from around your shoulders, and you were wide awake instantly. 

“Where are you going?” You asked groggily, pressing a hand down on his chest to keep him from moving. You couldn’t see him in the darkness, but you were sure he was bewildered. 

“I, uh, I was gonna head back home,” Peter whispered.

You moved your hand up to his shoulder, grasping it lightly. “Not yet. Please just stay a little longer,” you whispered in response. “Please.” You could see him nodding back.

“Okay,” he said softly, wrapping his arm back around your shoulders and resting his head back on the pillows. 

“Okay,” you said, resting your head on his chest again. You dozed back off, and the last thing you could remember was Peter pressing a kiss to your forehead and whispering, “Goodnight.”

When you woke up in the morning, he was still next to you.

*************************
Alright guys, I’m not going to lie. I really like how this one turned out. I’d love to know what you guys think about it. Feel free to also let me know if you’d want another part :) Requests are open!!

~e

Are those whiskers?

Pairing: Wolfstar

Warnings: Drinking, mild smut, all the feels 


Remus was cold, again. Even under his bed covers and surrounded by books. It was as if the transition had sapped the warmth from his body, even days later. He drew the covers closer and tried to ignore the empty feeling in his bones. His eyes were beginning to droop closed, and he might even have fallen asleep if it weren’t for that thumping noise drawing closer and closer.

“YOU!” The dormitory door screeched in protest as it banged open. 

Books and papers slid across his duvet as the curtains of his four poster bed were whipped open.

“Where have you been?! I’ve been looking for you all night!” The deep voice bordered on theatrical. Remus didn’t have to look to know who it was. 

Instead he dived to save the large tome that was about to fall on Sirius’s foot. 

“I think you have the answer to that one Pads, I’ve been here.”

“And what have you been doing here?!” Accused Sirius, unperturbed.

Remus looked about the room, affronted. 

“I thought I’d work on the map…Sirius, have you been drinking?” Questioned Remus, frowning slightly. 

“Of course I’ve been drinking Moons.” Sirius’s voice had become a little throaty, Remus thought. It sounded kind of good.

Sirius swung around the four poster bed, and Remus just about managed to sweep the rest of his books aside before he collapsed on top of the bed, sighing deeply.

Remus was suddenly aware that he was wearing little more than a pair of boxers under the sheets.

“The question is, why weren’t you drinking Moony? You're​ missing the party of the year. I only left because I couldn’t find you.”

Remus concentrated on piling the books onto his bedside table.

“Pads, what party are you talking about?” He said to his nightstand.

Sirius rolled onto his stomach, pushing Remus across the bed and propping up his head on his hands. Remus did his best to ignore the way he could feel Sirius’s warmth at his side, even through the sheets.

“Sirius, what party?” Remus pushed, if only to distract himself.

“What party?!” Sirius’s exclamation turned into a frown, as he fell deep in thought.

“Actually…it was sort of impromptu…” He admitted. “I’m not entirely sure how I got there if I’m honest.” Sirius’s eyebrows knitted together.

An exasperated smile was creeping across Remus’s face. “And…why do you have…I mean, are those cat whiskers?”

Sirius gasped and nodded somberly, drawing himself even closer, so that Remus could see the smudged face paint quite clearly.

“I saw those two Hufflepuffs we tricked into doing our potions essay last week….I needed a disguise.” Sirius raised his eyebrows, as if he expected Remus to be impressed.

Remus couldn’t help the snort that escaped his lips. “Yeah, well… they don’t suit you. You’re a dog, remember?” 

Sirius slapped a hand across his face, as if he’d somehow managed to forget this fact about himself. 

“By all means” He smirked, “take them off.” 

Remus smiled, he couldn’t help it. “Maybe I will.” 

He reached into his bedside drawer, pulling out a towel and wetting it with his wand. “Stay still.” 

Sirius smirked, pushing back his hair and closing his eyes ceremoniously. 

For a moment the thought flickered across Remus’s mind that it would take just a few centimetres for him to close the gap between their lips. 

Instead he sighed and pressed the towel to Sirius’s face. His free hand drifted to Sirius’s jaw, holding him in place. It was hard not to spread his fingers out, not to slide his hand back and lose it in Sirius’s hair. To pull him forward and…

Remus shook his head and moved to the other cheek, working quickly now. 

When he moved his hand away Sirius followed. Did he imagine that, or did Sirius just lean his face into his cupped palm? Remus stayed frozen, mesmerized by the trust of Sirius’s closed eyes.  

He dropped the towel, and took the liberty of running his fingers across Sirius’s newly clean cheeks. When his eyes flickered open Remus dropped his hands guiltily. 

“All done.”

Sirius smiled. “Back to my beautiful self.” 

Remus’s snort was quickly replaced by a gasp as Sirius rolled over and wriggled under the covers.

Suddenly Sirius’s body was against his bare skin. Sirius was in his bed. Remus tried to control his erratic heartbeat, but he was only wearing boxers and Sirius was in. his. bed. Tingles burned across his skin as an oblivious boy flicked off his shoes and socks. 

“Why is your bed so much comfier than mine?!” He asked, throwing his head onto the pillow dangerously close to Remus’s face and staring at the ceiling.

“I…I thought our beds were the same.” Muttered Remus weakly.

He was suddenly intensely aware of how the back of his hand was brushing up against Sirius’s.

“Nope, yours is definitely better than mine.” Sirius said decidedly, letting out a contented sigh.

After a few minutes pause, in which Remus tried desperately to control his heartbeat, he broke the silence.

“So…you’re just going to sleep here are you?” He tried to keep his tone light as he stared determinedly at the ceiling.

“If you want me to move…” Sirius yawned, clearly crashing after his busy night, “…you’ll have to make me.” He turned his face towards Remus and closed his eyes, putting out the light with a lazy flick of his wrist.

Remus didn’t want Sirius to go anywhere, so he kept his mouth shut. If he stopped staring at the ceiling and turned his face sideways he would be practically nose to nose with Sirius, and he couldn’t decide if that was a brilliant idea, or a terrible one. Remus closed his own eyes and sighed. There was a comfortable fuzz of warmth and tiredness creeping over them.

The back of Sirius’s hand was still touching his, and one of his legs was now hooked over Remus’s. There was a steady wave of tingles rolling back and forth across Remus’s body, and he thanked Merlin Sirius hadn’t taken any clothes off, because he was pretty sure his body would have exploded.

“You’re drunk.” He murmured, as much for himself as Sirius.

“Not as drunk as you think I am.” Came the low reply.

Remus’s heart leapt, but his mouth couldn’t quite form any words.

Sirius lapsed into a sleepy silence, until, quite naturally, Remus turned his face to the side. Even though his eyes were firmly shut, he could feel Sirius’s hot breath on his lips. Sirius must have felt him too, but he didn’t move an inch. Was he asleep? Was he just drunk?

It was then Remus realized that their fingers had become intertwined. It was subtle, almost accidental, but it couldn’t be a mistake. Could it?

With his heart in his mouth, Remus made the tiniest of movements, dragging his pinky finger in the smallest of circles across Sirius’s skin.

Sirius’s wordless reply came quickly, as he mirrored his movements with his thumb, which had found its way to the top of Remus’s thigh. Nerves and pure excitement coiled in Remus’s chest. Was this really happening? He couldn’t be mistaking these signs.

Still, no words passed between the boys, and Remus stayed frozen to the pillow. But the tension in his chest kept building as the circles Sirius was teasing on his upper thigh grew bigger and bolder. With each circle he knew he couldn’t be mistaking it.

This was it. He had to do it. He wanted to do it, Merlin he wanted to do it so badly.

Hiding behind closed eyes, he inched his lips closer and closer, pulse hammering in his ears. It took almost a full minute until Remus was so close he couldn’t possibly go back. Still, he wasn’t quite sure who closed the gap, but it was happening

Sirius’s lips were soft, teasing. Remus felt the tension in his chest expand into something like euphoria. He was lost in Sirius’s musky smell, the soft feel of his hair, the press of his body, his lips, Merlin his lips. Why hadn’t he been doing this his whole life?

Remus all but moaned in protest when Sirius broke the kiss.

Finally. Merlin, I’ve been waiting so long to kiss you.” Sirius said, his voice deep and raspy.

Remus tried to form words, but Sirius’s hand was travelling along his waist, tugging their hips closer together. What left Remus’s mouth was more like a growl.

Sirius let out a chuckle that was quickly stifled by a kiss as Remus’s hand slid to his face. He leant into the touch, releasing a wave of something excitement that flooded every nerve in Remus’s body. He was greedy now, every inch of Sirius was a too-long forbidden place he could finally explore.

Their mouths came together harder and more desperately this time, and after a few moments Remus tugged at Sirius’s bottom lip, sucking and grazing his teeth over the soft skin. Before he knew it he’d let out another soft growl of satisfaction.

“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do that.” He murmured.

Sirius’s grin was visible even in the half darkness. “Oh I might have an idea.” He replied, sliding on top of Remus and grinding gently onto his hips. 

He leant down to Remus’s ear, “There are a few things I’ve been waiting to do to you.”

When Sirius’s fingers reached down past the soft waistband of his boxers, Remus took in a sharp breath. His face must have betrayed him, because the corners of Sirius’ mouth fell. 

Sirius pressed his hand flat against Remus’s chest, and he was sure Sirius could feel his frantic heartbeat underneath it. 

“Tell me this doesn’t feel right.” Said Sirius, his voice edged and desperate.

He leant down, pushing Remus further into the soft bed, and pressing his lips to the skin of his neck. 

“Tell me this doesn’t feel right, and I’ll stop.” He breathed. 

Remus shook his head, fighting hard not to let himself go “You’re drunk.”

Sirius drew back, focusing a long hard stare into Remus’s eyes. 

“A little.” He rasped, sliding backward and pulling Remus into a sitting position.

Sirius slid his hands around Remus’s neck, pressing their foreheads together and concentrating very hard on slowing his breathing. 

“Yeah.” He breathed. “I’m a little, little bit tipsy. But I’ve been thinking about kissing you for seven years. And I’m not sure I can wait another seven seconds.”

Sirius pulled away just far enough that he could focus on Remus’s face in the dim light. 

“But if you ask me to I will.” 

Remus stared at the boy in front of him. He already knew his world had shifted.

He pressed a thumb into Sirius’s lip, trying to convince himself this was real.

“Promise me you’ll feel the same in the morning, Sirius.” 

Warm hands cupped Remus’s face, forcing his eyes back to the grey pools in front of him.

“I promise, Remus” The way Sirius said his name already had Remus leaning forward, grabbing a handful of his soft shirt, kissing whatever skin he could reach, but Sirius didn’t stop. 

“I promise.” He murmured into Remus’s neck. “I promise.” He breathed as his lips brushed against his ear. 

“I think I’ll feel this way for the rest of my life.”

hotel hot tub

At first his movements made you internally freak out as your whole body became fretful. But the blond boy continued reminding you to relax and let them continue whilst you sit back and enjoy — so rather than worrying you decided to listen.

“Darling, why don’t you lay over the side and give us a great view, yeah?” Tom instructed as you followed up to it.

rating: R + threesome

You unwrapped the white towel around your body and letting the fabric fall against the floor. And from there it manifested your navy blue swimsuit on which you strode with confidence until you reached towards the small square-metered hot tub where both your best friends already have arrived.

Tom took a picture of him and Harrison as it instantly directed to his social media and afterwards returning to his spot beside his lad. Though you decided to squeeze between their bodies and extend both your arms as one slung over Tom’s shoulder and the other for Harrison’s shoulder.

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control. (m)

pairing: jimin x reader

genre: smut 

warnings: slight dom!jimin / fem!dom, blindfolds, restraints, breath play 

word count: 5,675

request: blindfolds + jimin

description: You may have gotten him blindfolded and tied up, but Jimin’s not going down without a fight.

“You know, when we bought this stuff I thought I was gonna be the one using it on you,” Jimin huffed, fidgeting beneath your grip as you tightened the restraints around his wrists.

“You’ll get your turn, selfish,” You teased from your straddled position across his thighs before shimmying your way up towards his chest. “Pull against the headboard. I wanna make sure they aren’t loose.” You tapped against his arms, and to your surprise he followed your directions almost instantly.

The ties kept his wrists perfectly reigned in above his head, and it filled you with a sense of glee for what was to come. You peered down, fully expecting to find a look of disdain adorning Jimin’s features due to the restrictive nature of his position, but what you were met with was the complete opposite.  

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Mr. Min - Chapter 01

Description:  It wasn’t long after you started your new job that your boss caught your attention. Young, platinum blonde, a fan of basketball and hip hop, he was quite the outlier for someone with his title. It was hard to deny your attraction and when he suggested a casual sexual agreement it was clear the feeling was mutual. What wasn’t apparent at the start was the dark reality he lived in and how he would pull you into that abyss.

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader

Genre: Smut

Word Count: 8880

Warning: Dom!Yoongi, light breath play, cum play, punishment, demeaning names

A/N: I ended up having to split this chapter in two because it was getting so long.  I hope you enjoy it anyways!

Playlist - Prologue - Ch 01 - Ch 02 - Ch 03 - Ch 04 - Ch 05 - Ch 06 - Ch 07 - Ch 08

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Kiwi, Though.

A/N: this is a bit of an extension of the birthday bows/valentine woes world, but certainly functions as a stand alone piece.  thank you for the request*, nonny 😘

this is a very, very smutty, dirty piece about anal so if that’s not your thing, turn back now. there’s a lot of movement in this, so please offer me a bit of suspension of disbelief and just know that harry and his missus did everything they needed to in order to be clean and safe in this encounter.

*requests are currently closed


He didn’t mean it. Really, he didn’t. Well, he did, but he didn’t. And he certainly didn’t mean it anymore. Not now. Not now that you were hanging it over his head and torturing him with it.

It had been just another nightly FaceTime before bed from miles and miles apart; well bedtime for you, the night had only just started in Jamaica. And it was just typical banter to hide the sour feeling due to return once you hung up. And it was just a sly comment to rile you up, get you excited to join him in Jamaica in a few days.

“Yeh not gonna be able to keep yeh hands off me, love.” And that would have been enough, but Harry often struggled when it came to shutting his big, stupid mouth. “Not even if yeh wanted.”

Your eyes went wide in surprise, mouth ajar with incredulity. “Excuse me?” you scoffed. “I can keep my hands to myself much better than you can, H.”

“Right.” A cocky smirk crossed his lips. “Always got yeh hands all over me, kitten, ’specially when we’re reunited. S’never enough with you. Keep me up all night–satisfy your every need–but then yeh right back on me in the mornin’. Insatiable, you are.”

“If I’m insatiable, what’s that make you?!” Sure, he was right; you liked a few sleepless nights upon reunion, enjoyed testing the limits of your bodies, but it’s not like he protested. It’s not like he didn’t want to explore your body, relearn your inner workings mind, body and soul and try a few new things, too.

“Sex slave. At your every beck and call, kitten.” He was pleased with himself, grinning ear-to-ear as he teased you.

Keep reading

traffic teases

“You like that, don’t you, baby boy?” You cooed as your palm secured about it only making Tom nod while his head slightly angled with his back arching against the seat, “well I need to hear your words.”

rating: R

A smile came across your face once you parked your black subcompact car just near the vicinity where Tom’s gym was it. You pushed back the car door shut as you clutched onto your wallet whilst slowly heading towards the entrance of the impressively vast building, with it being very spacious inside whilst being filled with punching bags, yoga mats, mini obstacle courses, and barbells.

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Mind Bending

Shiro and Lance had been taken by surprise while on a diplomatic mission.
They hadn’t expected any problems on what was meant to be a peaceful planet, so they were dressed in their casual clothing.
Without their weapons or armour the two Paladins were captured by the waiting Galra without much resistance.
——————————-
Hours later Lance woke up chained to the wall with dried blood plastered to the side of his face.
Judging from how his vision swam and the intense pain behind his eyes, it was a safe bet that he had a concussion.
Lance vaguely registered someone calling his name, but it sounded like they were talking through water.

“Lance! Come on Kiddo.”
Lance looked up in the direction of the voice to see a black blob talking to him.
It took him a minuet to realise the blob must of been Shiro.
“Shiro?” Lance mumbled the movement causing his to moan in pain.
“Yeah bud I’m here. Do you remember where we are?” Shiro asked, he sounded panicked but Lance couldn’t figure out why.
“Castle?”
Shiro cursed softly under his breath. “No lance. Look we’ve been captured by the Galra. I don’t know if they got the rest of the team but I need you to try and stay awake. Ok bud?”
Lance didn’t know if he nodded or not. But he must of made some kind of movement because his head was spinning and dark spots were dancing across his vision.
“Hurts” Lance wimmpered.
“I know Bud… I’ll get you out of here I promise.”
Just then the cell door opened and two large Galra walked in.
Shiro instantly started thrashing about yelling at them.
Lance could tell that Shiro was trying to gain their attention. He was protecting him.
And Lance wasn’t going to let him do that.
Growing up Lance had always been flexible. If he hadn’t of gone to the Garrison he had always wanted to be a gymnast. It was like flying without a plane.
Even through his concussed haze Lance was able to remember how to dislocate his thumbs and pull them out of the cuffs.
Lance was sure it would hurt when he was a bit more coherent. Bit for now he had to save Shiro.
The Galra were so focused on the Black Paladin, that they didn’t notice Lance until after he grabbed the blaster from one and shot the other.
The other Galra turned and Lance fired again, however his vision was swimming so much that his aim was off and only grazed their shoulder.
The Galra grabbed Lance by the throats and slammed him against the wall causing Lance to cry out in pain.
He could see Shiro’s mouth moving. Maybe calling his name, maybe cursing the Galra that kept hitting Lance against the hard metal wall to get Lance to let go.
Lance knew he was losing consciousness.
It was so hard to keep his mind focused.
His eyes landed on the chains holding Shiro up.
He only had one chance.
Lance bent his arm until he could feel it almost popping out of his socket as he lined up the shot.
He took a breath in and out.
Then fired.
Lance didn’t know if he hit the chains.
But judging from how the Galra dropped him to the ground and the muffled sounds of fighting Shiro was free.
Lance felt his eyes droop closed as Shiro’s face came into focus.
“Lance! Lance please you have to stay awake!”
“S…orry” Lance mumbled as his eyes slid shut and he fell into the blissful abyss of unconsciousness.
——————————
Lance fell out of the healing pod into the waiting arms of Shiro.
“Hey Lance, how you feeling?” He asked looking him over concern clear on his face.
“Fine I guess… what happened?” Lance asked rubbing his head.
“We were captured by the Galra and you got a pretty nasty concussion.”
Lance winced in memory “oh yeah, how did we get out?”
Shiro smiled as he helped Lance sit down on the couch in the infirmary.
“It was all you, I didn’t think anyone could bend like that, let alone make that kind of a shot even without a concussion. You really are amazing…” Shiro blushed “and way more flexible then I ever hoped to imagine.”
Lance smirked “I would be happy to show you any time.” He winked and laughed as the leader of Voltron was left a spluttering blushing mess.