Seeking Comfort


“You have ten minutes to get your stuff then leave the premises Mr. Tolanski. I don’t suggest wasting any time on goodbyes.”

Todd had kept his head sown through the whole conversation that he  had thought was only going to be another lecture but as usual, he was wrong. He was getting the boot. After all this time, he was finally getting tossed out. Guess he screwed up one too many times. Or perhaps not being able to fight the guilt and calling the X-men to foil Mystique’ latest plan was the final straw. Whatever it is, doesn’t matter. Todd just needs to get moving.

So without a single glance at his fellow teammates who he has come to see as his brothers, he hops up the stairs and empties a backpack of schoolwork and begins to stuff it with clothes. He could hear the gang try to speak to him and he made some thoughtless comments about it being his time to go. The most he said was to Fred, telling him not to worry and that he will still be in the area so it won’t be the last he’ll see of the Toad.

With his sketchpads and journal being the last he gathers, he does up the back pack and looks to the window which he opens and hops out of. He is not in the mood to walk past the Boss Lady. Let her gain some white hairs and get bent out of shape when she thinks he is still there.

It would be several hops to go to the only place he could think of. And it took him a few minutes to build his nerve and go to the apartment of his friend for the past year. He hopes they will still be friends after this sudden development. When Alaire started hanging out with him, Todd bets that Alaire would imagine he would be the only place left for Todd to go before trying to live on the streets.

He only hopes the guy will be as welcoming as he has been. Honestly the guy has been hanging with him a lot and even began initiating some physical contact, like half hugs and leaning against him. At first they had been weird because Todd wasn’t really use to them or how frequently they were happening. But now he craves it after what has happened. Right now, he doesn’t want to be alone.

So he knocks on the door and when it opens, he tries to appear as if this was any other visit. “Hey Alaire. In the mood for company? Maybe some…long time company. Say a few days?” he asks, focusing on keeping the desperation out of his voice.



One Shot for Kate, you’re her sister and you’ve been told she’s has been shot and then being told she’s dead. You seek comfort from Gibbs and he tells you some stories about Kate on the job, how she was a good person but you tell Gibbs at the end to find whoever killed Kate and end it. 

Requested by Anon~

You were barely listening to Gibbs at this point. While his soft voice and the arm thrown over your shoulders were enough to momentarily soothe the grief, the anger was still there.

“One time, Kate and Tony nearly tackled each other at a crime scene because Tony had thrown a peanut into Kate’s bra earlier.” Gibbs explained, giving the slightest smirk. “Had to separate them before-”

“Agent Gibbs.” You interrupted. Your voice had been soft, but Gibbs heard you. He stopped talking. “You need to get the person who did this.”

The hand on your shoulder tightened, and you noticed Gibbs’ expression harden in the corner of your eye. “Believe me; we’re looking for him. And we’re not going to stop until he’s dead.”

The problem with “Brave New World”-style stories is that intellectual prats will invariably take away something like “seeking comfort and happiness is bad,I who suffer so much,am the most human” (accompanied by swooning and dabbing of tears).

As opposed to,say “the means to happiness and comfort can be controlled by governmental and corporate authorities to force compliance”.

Seeking Comfort.

Every day seemed to be getting harder and harder, the withdrawal settling in with a vengeance and refusing to leave no matter how hard the blonde tried to shake it. She had already tried to force herself to run, getting about two blocks before her body gave up and she found herself curled over on the side of the street, her stomach forcing everything she had tried to eat that day out of her body. She could hardly get out of bed without wanting to just curl up again and sob until she couldn’t any longer, completely unstable both mentally and physically, and she didn’t know what to do with herself. The week was almost through, soon enough she would have to return to the real world and act like it didn’t physically hurt just to exist.

An exhausted sigh passed her lips as she tossed back the covers and rubbed her eyes, just wishing she could have one day of feeling normal amidst the hell she had to go through to get better. The first thing she thought to do was run to Rachel, hope that she would at least make her feel a little less miserable, and she was hoping she wouldn’t get shooed away because she was working. She managed to get out of bed and slip back into her girlfriend’s sweater before she walked out to the living room and over to the couch where the younger woman was seated, working away quietly. Without saying a word she moved beside her and curled up on her side, her head finding her way into Rachel’s lap as her eyes fell to a close.

Seeking Comfort || Angellie

Ellie ran through the corridors, trying to get as far away from Igor as possible. She was in a state of shock, she’d thought he was her friend but how could a friend do that to her? Be so completely uncaring? Her vision was blurred by the tears and she didn’t even register where her feet were taking her until she looked up and realised that she was standing outside the seventh year boys’ dorm. She pushed the door open and looked around the room, it was deserted apart from a figure sleeping in one of the beds. She walked over to Angelo and lifted up the duvet, crawling in beside him. She rested her head against his shoulder, letting her tears fall softly onto his bare chest.

Seeking Comfort || Nicholas & Emma

Emma didn’t really know what to do with herself. She’d told herself that she needed to be strong in case something horrible was what had happened to Benedict.  She had to keep her walls up. Because if she didn’t, she was horrified that she wouldn’t be able to keep herself together. There was an empty space in her heart, it was a void that she wasn’t sure would be able to be filled for some time.

She needed to talk to someone. Being alone wasn’t the best idea at the moment. If that continued to happen, she thought that the tears that had been created so far would continue to be there. Emma didn’t think she was ready to let it all go and cry without caring anymore.. even though she was getting to that point. She walked the halls of the house as she headed to Nicholas’s room. He had always been there for her before, and she didn’t think now was an exception. If anything, she needed it more so now. She knocked on his door, and then waited.

anonymous asked:

have u read any good genyatta fics? :0

[breaks fingers] boy howdy have i

im assuming u want fic recs. have some fic recs


Stars - happy confessions

Similar Pains - first meeting

Floating - established relationship, fluff

Do Omnics Dream Of Robotic Sheep? - established relationship, fluff, minor angst (nightmares)

Safekeeping - not finished, slow burn, super good

Breathing - established relationship, angst (happy ending !)

Softly - Fluff, genji kissing zenny senseless 

Vagabond - genji has a nightmare, seeks comfort from zenny

Mercy Deserves Better - mercy helps genji with his love problems, very funny

Kintsugi - fluff

Genesis - first meetings

Soft Snow - first meetings

Covet - Confessions

Genji’s Butt - zenyatta is distracted by some of genji’s finer ASSets

One With The Iris - not finished, process of zenyatta helping genji heal

Touch Starved - as it says in the tin, some GOOD fluff

Luminescent - angst, wonderfully written + happy ending!

a bunch of fluff with some nsfw here b/c this author writes Good Shit (yes i realize this just links to the author’s entire writing tag but thats because its GOOD) 


I’ll Take Care Of You
- zenny helping genji out on his new robogonads

Pushing The Limit - zenny stuffing his orbs up genji’s cooch

Orbs In Weird Places  - humourous smut involving zenny’s orbs up genji’s cooch again

Those Damn Hands - sexually frustrated + touch starved genji + confessions

Teaching Moments - slow burn with mutual pining and sexual frustration on both zenyatta’s and genji’s part 

The Right Medicine - zenny helping genji out with his robogonads, again

(x) - doggy style, praise, dom/sub undertones, edging, fucking, good shit

(x) - zenny using transcendence during The Nasty

(x) - genji using his mouth to good use

(x) - sunyatta spanking genji fufckkkiggn. GOOD

Puppy Love

Originally Ray had hunted down Mick in the canteen to seek comfort and counsel. To thank him and purpose a crazy scheme to the grieving pyromaniac. He swallowed back everyone of his words at the sight of the heavy sorrow. Now wasn’t the time for great revelations. Just because he realized his deep hidden feelings doesn’t mean Mick needed to hear about them. Out of respect for Mick Ray didn’t speak up. Instead he offered comfort and the goal of revenge. His time would come.

That’s what time machines were for right.

Silently he suffered his regret and longing as they chased after Savage. Once successful the team crumbled away without its purpose. Some stuck around on the waverider seeking a new goal but Ray was done aching. He’d cried himself to sleep enough times. Waking each morning feeling unrested because of nightmares he can’t remember but he knows the contents of. He was going to find him. Hunt him down through time and space. There had to be a way.

He wasn’t the type to go silently into the night as a hero.

Ray hung onto that conclusion of Leonard’s character as he requested to be dropped off in Star city. Gideon had mentioned some anomaly in the time stream. Ray had paid it no mind originally but when he was dropped off a full two years before being picked up on the waverider he started to pay more attention. 

Things were different. Small things, big things… this timeline was very different to the one he knew and was from. Apparently the Ray Palmer from this timeline wasn’t as motivated as himself because his company was on autopilot barely keeping afloat. There were no records of his ATOM suit despite him confirming the loss of his fiancé. Depression had captured this timeline’s Ray. 

He still had his suit and more important things to do that run a company so the state of affairs suited his needs. It would all work itself out when him and Len team up and fix the timeline anyways. At least that was his optimistic outlook on things. A part of him was whispering some far darker realities. Like fixing the timeline might take Len away from him again.

He didn’t have time for that though He needed to go to Central. He needed to see an alive Leonard Snart even if it was one who didn’t remember or know him. He decided to go in his suit. A suit of armour to hide behind. A mask to cover his true feelings and expressions. A bit of fire power if things go terribly wrong. He does a few laps high above central before finally landing in front of a bar he’s heard Mick mention once of twice. Saints and Sinners. He pushed his way through the door looking like a cartoon character in his brightly coloured suit amongst the darker tones of the bar.


Worth Fighting For (George Washington x Reader)

Anon Request: omG A DISNEY AU I LOVE IT!!! Could you do a Mulan one with George Washington?

Here you go, anon! I love Mulan, and I hope you all enjoy this!

George Washington x Reader

TW: Mentions of nudity

Silent in your steps, you approached the bureau and yanked open the doors, grateful that your parents had left for the night. A uniform was perfectly placed inside its depths, slightly dusty but clean and taken care of. You gently removed it from the bureau and faced the bedroom, stripping off your underclothes. The room was terribly cold, and you shivered as you bound your breasts, hoping you could cover them enough for no one to notice. A storm raged outside, rain pelting the windows, and you found yourself seeking comfort in the sounds all around you.

The uniform was tight in areas you didn’t want it to be, but you had no other choice. You weren’t going to let your father sacrifice himself when he had a life to live. He had fallen ill, and he was weak. Going to war would seal his fate as a dead man, and you refused to let that happen.

You entered the bathing room and took up the scissors your mother kept by the sink, your fingers trembling as you pulled your hair back into a ponytail. Tears prickled the corners of your eyes, and you sawed at your long locks, watching them flutter to the floor. When you felt the metal scissors against your skin, you dropped them into the sink and stared at yourself in the mirror. Your hair stuck out at odd angles, but it was short, the longer strands barely touching your ears.

For a moment, you saw your father as a boy, ready to serve, and your heart swelled. Wiping the tears from your eyes, you turned away from the mirror and rushed to grab what supplies you need, sprinting down the steps. You were nearly out of breath when you reached the stables, tugging one of the horses out of its stall. The horse reared its head back, neighing and kicking its legs, and you stumbled away from it.

“Stop! Stop! It’s me!” You whispered, hoping your parents didn’t return home before you managed to get away.

The horse seemed to calm, and you climbed onto its back, tears running down your cheeks. You were terrified of war, but you knew you couldn’t let your father leave.

Exhausted, you wandered into the camp, staring at the passing soldiers. Few of them noticed you as you anxiously approached what you believed was the General’s tent. Waiting outside, you wondered if you were doing the right thing. What if no one believed you were a man? Of course, you weren’t exactly the skinniest woman, having been born with a fuller figure.

Just as you were about to enter, a man emerged, and you stumbled back, staring at him. He grinned as you hit a much larger figure, making you tilt your head back in surprise. Standing behind you was a man with cloth around his head, and he had a toothy grin on his face.

“S-sorry, sir,” you said as you stepped away from the both of them. In doing so, you fell against another, and you couldn’t imagine how this day could get any worse. A freckled boy was behind you, laughing as he stared down at you. “I’m so sorry. I-I was just wanting to go inside a-and talk to the General.”

The shortest of the three men peeled back the flap of the tent and smiled, saying, “Then go inside. We won’t hold you up any longer.”

You were red in the face by the time you were inside the tent, your eyes on the man situated behind the desk. You had never encountered such a handsome man in your life, and you felt your heart skip as he looked at you.

“I-I apologize, General. My name is MY/N (male name), and I am here to join the revolution,” you stammered out, heat rising up your neck.

“It’s alright, son. You do not need to be so nervous. We are not the enemy here.” He approached you, and you felt your stomach twist into a knot.

He was so close to you, and you feared that he would see the obvious discrepancies in your appearance. You clearly weren’t a man, and you wondered how you had managed to get through the camp without anyone saying anything to you.

“I will not lie to you, son. This won’t be easy, especially for someone as young as you. Do you think you can handle it?”

You vigorously nodded your head, staring up at him with wide eyes. It brought a smile to his face that made your mind turn to mush. Oh, good God, how were you supposed to be a soldier when this man was leading you? You could barely breathe when he was around you, let alone be a loyal and precise marksman.

“Yes, sir, I can. I will do everything I can to be the greatest soldier I can be. I promise,” you whispered.

He nodded, staring you down, and you licked your lips, stumbling outside. You nearly ran into the men once again, this time colliding with a tall Frenchman, his hair pulled back into a fluffy bun on top of his head. He chuckled and took hold of your shoulders, a wide smile tugging on the corners of his lips.

Excusez-moi!” He said.

The color drained from your face as the other men tried to stifle their laughter, staring at you as you stumbled away. This day could not get any worse.

But it did. Just as you were setting out your things, a call forced all the soldiers outside. You stumbled and rushed to stand in the line, your shoulders back and your body straight. The four men from earlier were beside you, trying to hold back their smiles as the General emerged from his tent. You released a deep breath and watched him approach the men, his eyes dark and on the soldiers.

When he faced you, you felt your stomach turn. Oh, you were going to be absolutely sick. You were going to vomit all over the General.

“Are you alright, son? You look a little ill,” he said.

You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak, but he didn’t seem to trust your response. He stepped closer until his face was a mere few inches from yours, and your heart skipped.

“Looks like he’s about to puke, sir!” The shortest of the four men yelled, and you clenched your eyes shut. A few of them chuckled, the sound echoing through your ears, and you released a deep breath.

“Are you sure you’re ready for this, son?” He asked.

“Yes, sir!” You said.

He watched you with narrowed eyes before walking off, leaving you alone to catch your breath.

“You asked to see me, sir?” Alexander Hamilton asked as he stepped into the tent.

“Yes. Do you know anything about MY/N?” George Washington asked.

Alexander shook his head, confused as to why the General was asking him this. He said, “No, sir. Why?”

“I…no reason. They just seem a bit off, but thank you, son.” He noticed the dark look that passed over Alexander’s face before he left, and George fell down into his chair. He rubbed his temples, wondering what in the world was happening. Ever since you had arrived, you had consumed his every thought. That wasn’t natural, he thought. Men weren’t supposed to like other men, yet he found himself thinking about you each and every day.

Though there was something odd about you, George wanted to spend as much time with you as possible. You made his heart race in ways he never realized existed. Sighing softly, he pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes, releasing a shaky breath.

You were going to be the death of him.

You were beneath the water, humming quietly as you bathed. It was pleasant to get away from the men for a bit of time, especially since most of them were quiet vulgar in their stories. For just a moment, you were relaxed and able to breathe without fear that someone would find you.

Then you heard them. Laughter echoing throughout the forest, followed by heavy footsteps. You ducked behind a large boulder as four men came running down the dirt path, stripping off their clothes as they made a dive for the water.

“Heeey, MY/N,” Alexander said, swimming toward you. He was grinning, and he chuckled as you tried to move away. “How have you been?”

“I-I’m good,” you whispered.

He nodded as Hercules and John moved to your other side, goofy grins on their faces. They both called your name, laughing as their eyes focused on the large shadow now standing on the rock. Lafayette hovered the four of you, his hands planted firmly on his naked hips. Oh, he was so naked. Never had you seen a man in no clothing, and the sight of him made your face turn red.

“I’m the King of this rock, and there is not anything you can do about it,” he teased, a wide smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Sinking down behind the rock, you felt your heart pound against your chest. Lafayette dove into the water, and you took the chance to swim away from them, climbing onto the land. You wrapped yourself in the blanket you had brought and ran, stumbling back into your tent as you hoped no one saw you.

The knife pierced your side, and you cried out, firing at the British soldier you had found yourself fighting. You weren’t so sure what had prompted you to step out in front of Washington, but the sight of the approaching soldier had made your mind go blank. You weren’t going to let him hurt the General, and you had moved so quickly. You hadn’t even realized you were moving until you felt the blade against your skin. A gun fired, and the soldier collapsed, dead. You fell to your knees, sinking into the mud, and you felt black dots fill your vision.

Someone called a name you didn’t know as you were drifting off, turning onto your side. The last thing you saw was George Washington’s face filled with concern, his eyes on you. His hands grasped your arms as he held you, calling for a nurse.

You woke with a terrible ache in your side. Groaning, you pushed a hand through your hair and sat up, staring at the shadow that seemed to surround the tent. Voices were outside the tent, and you realized one of them belonged to George Washington. Your eyes fell, and your heart skipped. You were without a shirt, revealing your bound chest, and you knew they were talking about you. The tent flap peeled back, and you were met with Hamilton’s concerned face.

“You’re being discharged today. W…what is your name?” He asked.

“Y/N L/N,” you said.

He nodded and said, “Pretty. Sad this has to happen to you.”

He backed away from the tent, and he was replaced with the very man you dreaded to see. George Washington was giving you a dark look, and he looked upset.

“Sir, I—“

“Don’t. We have a carriage here to take you home. I hope you realize how much danger you put yourself in as well as this entire army.” He stood, and you dropped your head, ashamed of what you had done to him. You had jeopardized his command by coming here.

A shirt was at your feet, and you tugged it on over your head, making sure you were covered. You nervously emerged from the tent, feeling a hundred eyes on you. Your things were already by the carriage, and you silently cursed yourself for being so stupid.

As you climbed into the carriage, you glanced at George Washington once more, but he refused to look at you. You dropped your eyes and sighed.

You remained home for many days, avoiding your parents’ worried stares. When you had returned home, they had held you, crying into your shoulder, and you had pulled away from them. After that, you refused to leave your home, fearing the ridicule you would face the moment you stepped into the city.

Nearly a month after you had been discharged from the war, someone arrived at your home. Your mother called your name, and you begrudgingly drifted down the steps. She was standing by the door, staring up at you.

“There is a handsome man here to see you, dear,” she said, a wide smile on her face.

Confused, you stepped past her, and your eyes widened. George Washington was standing a few feet away, his weak smile on his face. He approached you, and you felt a rush of heat in your cheeks. He took your hand in his and kissed your knuckles, staring up at you.

“Do you want to go to the garden?” You asked, already leading him away from your mother. You knew she would watch the entire time, but you wanted to be alone when you spoke to the General.

Just as you neared the garden, George spoke, “I am sorry for how everything happened.”

“I understand, sir.”

He raised an eyebrow, and he laughed, saying, “You do not have to call me sir. George is just fine.”

You nodded and remained quiet, your eyes on your shoes.

After a moment, he said, “I was informed that your father had fallen ill before you took his place in the war. Is that true?”

“Yes, si-George. I couldn’t let him go, knowing he’d probably die,” you said, “I apologize for putting you all in danger.”

“You saved me from that soldier, Y/N. I am truly in your debt, and I…I want to say sorry for how I treated you that last day. I was so confused and upset as to why you had done that. I felt like you had betrayed me. Then I realized how stupid I was being. I…I was so messed up because of how you had made me feel, and I wanted to blame you for everything,” he said, and you noticed the faint dusting of pink on his cheeks.

“And how do I make you feel, George?”

His eyes met yours, and he leaned down, nearing your lips. Before he kissed you, a voice called from the house.

“Y/N! Is he staying for dinner? Because he can!”

You dropped your head against George’s chest, laughing at your mother. You felt your ears burn red as you clutched the front of his shirt, clinging to him.

“Would you like to stay for dinner, George?” You asked, and you felt the rumble of a laugh in his chest.

Mixing It Up

Summary: The world places so many different expectations and pressures on our young heroes, it’s a good thing Marinette and Adrien have each other, and find many different ways of seeking comfort and reassurance (college-age fic)

Rating: rather NSFW, but nothing overtly explicit.

Mixing It Up

Although it was long gone midnight, she’d expected him.

Before she could pull herself up from her bed, Marinette’s visitor knocked on the window once more, and she hurried to open it. No easy feat, considering she had to detangle herself from a vast array of blankets. The knocking became insistent, the hollow thud of knuckles against double-glazed windows echoed around her room.

At last she reached the latch. She narrowed her eyes at the visitor, who was hovering just outside the top floor apartment she shared with Alya. Marinette was unable to read his responding expression. The soft yellow glow of her desk lamp shone onto the glass, distorting the view of her partner as well as the Parisian night beyond him. She sighed.

“I heard you the first time Kitty, honestly,” she hissed. Marinette was pleased to see him, however she was less than thrilled at his uncharacteristic display of impatience, “do you want Alya to find out?”

Chat Noir responded by pulling her into a tight embrace. With a start, Marinette realised he was clinging to her, his back shivered under her fingertips as he buried his head into the crook of her neck. He was silent.

“Kitty?” She whispered, instinctively hugging him tighter in comfort. Her muscles stiffened when he didn’t reply. He merely shook his head, the top of his cat ear brushing against her temple as he did so. Dropping her voice even lower, she reached up and buried her fingers though his hair, “Adrien, what’s wrong? Did something happen at the party?”

Marinette felt him inhale through his nostrils- his back expanding, taut and tense- and knew at once that she was correct in her assumptions. A part of her withered whilst another part felt dreadfully guilty. After all, it was her stupid final-year project that had prevented her from attending this particular Agreste event. If she’d been there…

Tugging herself away from his arms, she instead took his hand and lead him towards her bed. It was less comfortable that her one back at the bakery, but Marinette found she liked this one better. After all, she never got to share her other bed with the man she loved.

Gently, silently, Marinette reclined on the soft mattress.. Shuffling towards the side nestled against the wall, she made room for Chat to follow suit. There was an unreadable expression in his gaze, it seemed both confused, sad, and fearful all at once. He’d yet to release his transformation. His brow was furrowed and he wasn’t meeting her eyes. Whatever had happened at the party, Marinette could tell, had made him especially vulnerable.

They lay there for a while, legs tangled up together, Chat’s face half covered by the pillow he rested his head against. Marinette traced soothing circles against his chest, waiting. Something which she’d learned over her years of being with Adrien, is that patience was a true virtue. If she pressed him when he was upset, he would withdraw. She supposed it was part and parcel of growing up the way he had. Perfect models don’t have bad days, they don’t get angry or upset, they just look pretty and smile.

So, just as he had learned she needed to get all of her bad feelings out in one quick rush, she had learned that he needed quiet support. He needed physical comfort as opposed to herself, who often needed heartfelt words to soothe her troubled mind.

After a while, Chat lifted his head a fraction. Their eyes met for a second before he glanced away again.

“You won’t…you don’t think…” He began, his voice laced with doubt and trepidation.

Marinette squeezed his hand. Reassurance.

“Do you think you’ll get bored of me?”

Keep reading

Spencer deserves more


Dating Gustavo Acosta Would Include:
  • watching him draw all the time
  • him threatening to beat up anyone who so much as gave you a dirty look
    • “if you touch y/n, i will break you.”
  • his dad always coming home to you two hanging out with each other or having sex but that was very awkward for all of you lets not talk about that
  • so! many! kisses!
  • him constantly telling you that you are beautiful & giving you so many compliments all the time bc he wanted you to feel good n happy
  • watching horror movies together
    • curling up next to him and seeking comfort when you got scared
  • always sitting as close to each other as humanly possible 
  • him taking boxing classes so he can defend you if he needed to
    • and then teaching you how to fight so you can protect yourself when he’s not around
  • standing up for him when people were assholes / vice versa
  • him hugging you from behind and giving you neck kisses
  • getting matching tattoos
  • really rough but passionate sex
    • him leaving love bites on your neck that were impossible to hide
      • you almost being unable to walk the next day
  • hand holding
  • him getting really protective when he found you crying/sad about something
    • “what happened baby? who do i need to kill?”
      • but him also being super caring and rubbing soothing circles across your shoulder to help calm you down
  • him playing with your hair all the time
  • i have a feeling he’d just playfully spank you literally constantly !?!?
    • like when he’d see you in the hallway he’d just greet you with a slap to dat ass and then just play it off like “hey babe how are you”
  • him making you drawings (sometimes of yourself) 
    • you hanging them up all over your walls and him smiling like a dork every time he came over bc of how much you loved them
  • being really sarcastic with each other all the time
  • you two just loving each other so much like ?!!? 
  • everyone highkey shipping it bc you were so cute together

requested by: anonymous 


request (i’ll do any gender in any of the fandoms here btw)

I’d rather eat skittles in the confines of my own home,
safely knock it back with an Arizona and become an
enigma when I though my hoodie on. #Hashtag, the
safety felt in a hoodie’s gone. We can’t even seek
comfort, let alone get snacks on the way home. Those
components make a frightening equation; the only solution?
Dead body on pavement.

I’d rather walk on the sidewalk, no matter the traffic. I foresee
tragedy if I overstep the curb,  IF I were to have the nerve to
have my soles touch more than earth. I guess the streets 
weren’t made for walking. They said I stole cigars. Hands up, 
don’t shoot. I’ll move, I’ll move. I don’t want a scuff on my shoes;
but I’m on my knees now..apology met by bullets—my partner
running for his life confused.

I’m the new face of the news. Put me in the archives with Sean Bell,
Oscar Grant…Shit, I could give be Huey P. too. 

But I’d rather be a Gorilla at the Zoo. Maybe even a Lion named Cecil.
Maybe they’ll think longer, before the trigger is pulled.

I’d rather smoke my cigs, my nig. I know you’re stressing too. I once
sold 5 for 2$. But the boys in blue been looking to end my reign.
Deplete my funds..I’m just trying to make a living..shit I can’t feel 
my lungs. Can they feel my pain? I’m only resisting because my last
breathe said it’s coming…I’m far from ready for my life to be claimed.

I’d rather stay to myself…I know my mama means well, I can tell.
She let me play with everybody else, but everybody left when the
toy was brandished. The ideal of its shape; they couldn’t stand it,
not next to my skin. They told someone I was a grown man! 
I would’ve preferred to never grow up. Now I’m not standing, I can’t
stand this! Forever young, just not with my mama and ‘em.

Shit, I’d rather go unarmed. No gun to my holster, no knife to
my pocket. It’s a basic human right to protect yourself. and well,
I live around areas where there’s no police protection left. So 
equipped with a switch blade–I was in the hood, this day–expected
to be a good one. This day…I was detained, they probably just thought
“there’s a hoodlum.” They’ve never cut me slack…Four stops made,
Please just tell my family, I don’t think I’ll be coming back. My spine..
My spine is snapped.

I’m the new face on the news, put me in the archives next to Pac AND
Biggie. It’s a conspiracy theory but we walk in the same shoes. Tell
Miss Holiday, strange fruit still bloom.

Darren Wilson, George Zimmerman, even the boy who came to church
too..I wish I was like them: Alive. But they’ve never feared dying so soon.

I’d rather not. I know you gave me permission. But I’d rather move, I’ll
make my living elsewhere. I appreciate the acceptance, but I foresee
that I still have much to lose. They said a homeless man was plotting
on me. My old lady knows better. But whatever, I’ve been on the block
long enough..My mind is spinning, like what the fuck? Can I know why
I’m down here? What have I done? I saw them coming, dare I possess
a gun? Dare I resist? I can’t believe this shit. After the shots are fired,
please don’t forget.

I’d rather take the bus, or walk, or sum’…I’m licensed to carry, at least
I ain’t hunting. I digress, y’know but it should be so difficult. Tail light
out? Give us a citation, then go about your patrol. But I’m trying to
cooperate, what do you need to know? I’m just reaching for the
information Officer..Why did your gun blow? There is a kid in the car!
 My girl is next to me, but there is a light tearing us apart. You can’t take
what’s left of me! She’ll grow to know that the shield is for your protection
only, and your job will never find her heart. You’ll never be here symbol of
a hero. You’ll always be her scar…You’ll always be standing your ground
next to Arizona’s and skittles…

I’d rather be a nigga. Even if breathing hurts a little, even with
my hands up, my toy gun, and solicitation permission. I’d rather
be a nigga. To die like a solider, than be a coward behind the law 
of the living.

I’d rather.
wai. 2016.

To Better Times - Bucky x Reader



Note: I sneezed on the beat and the beat got sicker (yeah I kinda switch the ‘your name’ thing up again…) good god this is prob my longest fic ever? also I’m sorry about making our little Birb and Russian Friends™ evil and also idk there’s v small amounts of drama drizzled in there but I focused on the heartbreak and confusion… I hope you enjoy though! :)-Aly

Warning: language, cheating assholes, angst in amazing amounts

Originally posted by enochianess

Breakups are bad, always have been. I mean, look what happened when American Colonists broke up with Britain. Such a waste of tea…

This is definitely scaled down, but your breakup with him is probably one of the worse things to happen to you in the past month. Truly, it was pretty terrible. The cheating bastard.

“I brought you some soup, [Y/N],” Bucky whispers, setting the steaming bowl down on the coffee table in front of you. You thank him hoarsely, picking it up in your shaky hands. The spoon is clattering against the ceramic at how hard your hands shake. Bucky settles on the couch next to you, bringing his legs up to sit criss-cross. “I’m sorry.”

“Why?” You set the bowl back down, finding that you end up spilling all of the soup before it makes it to your mouth. His tear filled blue eyes meet your own bloodshot ones sadly. “You didn’t cheat on me with my best friend,” you pull your sweatshirt’s hood up farther over your head and shuffle closer to Bucky.

“It still happened, and I somehow feel like it’s my fault.” You wrap your arms around his waist and bury yourself into his chest. His arms wrap around you, pulling you into his lap to hold you close. “I wasn’t good enough for her, I let her down. I can’t blame her, I would cheat on me, too. I’m a failure and a monster,“ Bucky whispers, the coarse words rattling in his chest. You squeeze your arms and shake your head.

“No,” you mumble into his hoodie, “No, Bucky you’re not. You’re perfect and Na-she is too fucking dumb and unfaithful to see just how amazing you are. Even if she can’t see it… I can…” Bucky just nods lightly and rests his lays a kiss on your hair before laying his cheek on your head. You stare straight ahead, lost in thought.

James Buchanan Barnes really is an amazing man. He’s polite, kind, good, brave, selfless, fun, attractive, understanding, and just… perfect. God, why did she cheat? Why did he cheat? You’d like to think you’re an decent person.

“Thanks, doll,” Bucky mumbles, shifting you on his lap to hold you tighter. “You’re pretty great, too… He is an asshole.” His right hand comes up and gently brushes through your hair soothingly.

You sniff, laughing lightly. “Maybe we should just date each other,” you joke. Bucky’s hand stills on your head and you silently curse yourself. Damnit, you made a fucking mistake.

“Yeah,“ he replies slightly sarcastically as his fingers begin running through your hair again. “Maybe we should…” His voice fades off as an internal conflict wages in his mind. God, he really wouldn’t mind mind dating you. You’re kind, pretty, understanding… Jesus, what the fuck is he doing. He just got out of a relationship. He should be more heartbroken, shouldn’t he? But he can’t feel terrible with you in his arms. You smell amazing, and you’re so warm. You understand him so well, and you have always accepted him.

“I’m sorry,” you mutter in embarrassment. “That was inappropriate.” But God, how you wish.

“No, no…” Bucky assures, shifting you so you’re face to face. “It’s fine, doll.” You can feel Bucky’s minty breath fanning across your face. He’s so close you could tip your head just right and his lips would be on yours. Fuck, you need to chill. You were just cheated on by your boyfriend of almost 2 years with your bestfriend. Only two weeks ago you thought you were going to marry him, and thought you were falling deeper and deeper in love than before. What the shit is your brain doing, thinking things like this.

But then his blue eyes flicker down to your lips and those nagging thoughts go racing through your head again. You think about how easy it would be to just drown out the pain of him in Bucky. You could just tilt your head ever so slightly and lose yourself in his taste.

Shit. You clear your throat, ducking to rest your head on his shoulder, burying your nose in the divot in the crook of his neck. God he smells amazing. Bucky frowns slightly, closing his eyes. He fucked up. He shouldn’t have tried anything. He thought he was subtle, that maybe if you weren’t interested you wouldn’t notice. Instead, you did notice, and you turned away. He probably just fucked everything up and it can’t possibly get worse from here.

You and Bucky sit in silence, both of you berating yourselves for the shitty moves. You sigh, closing your eyes in an attempt to drift off to sleep. Hopefully sleep will eradicate these strange (not necessarily new) feelings.

Bucky’s eyes crack open, searching for the clock. It reads 04:27. He sighs lightly. He doesn’t even remember falling asleep. Must’ve just dropped off sometime after screwing things up with you. No matter how embarrassed he felt, god, he can’t deny that you’re very comfortable and warm.

That very fact makes it hard for him to shift you from his lap and stand. You let out a quiet sound that’s a mix between and whimper and a moan, making Bucky’s heart swell. God you’re adorable. He waits for you to settle into the couch further before picking up the bowl full of soup to bring it into the apartment’s kitchen. He sets about cleaning the dishes and tidying up.

You stir, wearily blinking your eyes open to the sound of dishes clinking and water splashing. In the kitchen you can see the faint outline of Bucky in front of the sink. You stand and shuffle over to him, wrapping your arms around him and resting your head on his back.

Bucky jumps as you yank him from his thoughts. “Hey,” you whisper into his back. “Will you come lay down with me again?” Bucky smiles softly as your sleep filled voice and hums in approval. As he places the last dish on the drying rack and washes his hands you smile against his sweatshirt clothes back. “You know, I really, really, really like you,“ you mumble lowly. “Like… I like like you… And I’m so conflicted because I was just cheated on by Sa-him, and I thought I was in love but… What really is love? I don’t think I’ve ever felt it… Maybe not until now…” Your words are slurred and by the sound of it you don’t even realize what it is you’re saying.

Bucky is frozen with a hand towel in his hands. He’d been drying them when you decided to drop that bomb on him. “I-I… Doll?” He can only stutter incoherent phrases out as he places the towel on the counter and turns around to face you. You look up at him through your lashes as you rest your chin on his chest. Your lips tilt up in a sleepy and loveydovey manner. “I…” He sighs, thinking everything over.

Two days ago, his girlfriend was caught cheating on Bucky with [Y/N]’s boyfriend. Then the two heart broken lovers to dump their unfaithful asses and retreat into Bucky’s apartment. They act like everything was fine while consuming copious amounts of liquor. One day ago Bucky found [Y/N] curled up in the fetal position on the shower floor with an empty bottle of Jack Daniels, sobbing like hell. He put her in a pair of his sweats and an old sweatshirt he dug out of his closet before laying her on the couch. He proceeded to pretend he was fine but at the sound of [Y/N]’s sobs, he broke down. One hour ago, Bucky was cradling [Y/N]’s body and thinking about emotions. He felt that maybe he wasn’t truly in love with her… Maybe he was in love with the idea of her; of having a beautiful woman wholly committed to him so he could be fully committed to her.

Maybe he’s been looking at the wrong person.

“Doll, I like like you, too.” Bucky breaks, deciding that even if this doesn’t work out, he tried. And God, if he even has a remote clue about what the hell love is, then he knows that he’s in love.

[Y/N] smiles brightly, launching into a rant, “So, like… do we date now? I mean this is so confusing because we’re both just out of a long time relationship-granted because they were a couple of fucking dipshit cockheads, but are we even emotionally stable enough to tell that this is more than platonic? ‘Cause I know that I had some… conflicting feelings toward you while with my ex, but did you? Does it matter? Is love even real? Can a human really feel love? Or is it a figment of our imagina-”

“Doll, darling, [Y/N]. Shush, okay? Look, I don’t think I was truly in love with her. I might have just been settling because I thought the one I really wanted was taken for good. You don’t need to worry…” His voice gets quieter as he ducks his head so they your nose touches his. “I love you.”

“Oh, god,” your voice cracks happily as you smile widely, “I love you, too.” With that you’re gently pulled up so that Bucky’s lips can press urgently to yours. He wraps his arms around you tightly, lifting you up as you jump to wrap your legs around his hips. He’s slowly making his way to the couch carefully (let’s be honest, you’re both still pretty drunk and tired and sad, not really in the mood for sex). You’re just about there when someone bangs on the front door loudly. You groan in surprise, pulling away to stare at the dark wood in confusion. Bucky sets you down and makes his way over to look in the peep hole, but before he takes more than three steps the door is swinging open.

The proverbial dust settles and reveals them. The two people you had once trusted with so much. The two people who took that trust in their fists and crushed it. The two people who banged it up by banging each other.

Sam Wilson and Natalia Romanoff. The Falcon and the Black Widow. Exboyfriend and exbestfriend. Cheating dickfaces.

Your eyes widen and fill with tears as Sam takes cautious steps toward you. “No, no,” your voice cracks with the words, this time in sadness. “Don’t come near me, okay?”

“Babe, please,” Sam begs, his chocolate eyes wide in a pleading innocence. “I’m sorry, I’m so, so, so sorry. I love you.” You shake your head fiercely, causing the tears to fall down your cheeks.

“Don’t fucking say that,” you sniffle and bring your sleeve up to wipe at your cheeks furiously. “Don’t you fucking dare say that to me when I saw you fucking that whore in our bed!” You practically scream as you break down. You can feel Bucky’s arms wrap around you as your knees become weak. Sam just stares at you sadly, putting his hands up in defense and backing away slowly. “Get the fuck away from me, I never want to see your shitty self again,” you hiss as you sink from Bucky’s embrace and to your knees.

“Bucky,” Natalia whispers, her green eyes watery. “James I’m sorry.” Ever the woman of few, deceiving words.

“No, you’re not. Don’t call me that,” He walks to Natalia and pushes her towards the door where Sam hovers, staring at the sobbing woman who’s heart he broke. “I think it’s best if neither of you come around here again.” He pushes both of them out. “Tell the team were taking a leave of absence until we’re… okay,” Bucky adds before slamming the door in their faces. He’s not sure if he could have looked into her eyes any longer without busting out in hideous sobs.

Instead he allows silent tears to flow down his scruffy cheeks as he grabs a couple of bottles of vodka he brought back from his last mission to Russia and sets them on the coffee table. Then he lovingly lifts [Y/N] into his arms and settles with her on the couch, laying on his back with her on top, her face buried in his chest and staining his sweatshirt.

He hears the distinct roar of Tony’s Ferrari tearing down the road as he pops the first bottle open and gulps down mouthfuls of the clear liquid. Your sons die down as you grab a bottle yourself, lifting up just enough to chug nearly half the bottle. You and Bucky sit in silence, trying to drink your issues away with each other.

Toast to better times.

anonymous asked:

I don't know if your willing to do this small Drabble cause I know you're working on the second part to the fic, but can you do a wincest drabble where the younger sister!reader catches them for the first time and she doesn't know how to react at first? If that's okay?

*Wincest Warning*

You sat up quickly, looking around. Your shoulders relaxed as you realized it was just a nightmare. You checked your phone and saw it was only around two in the morning. Your feet gently padded as you went down to Sam’s room, usually seeking him for comfort after a nightmare.

Sam wasn’t in his room so you sighed, going to Dean’s room, his comfort would do for the night. 

Dean’s door was shut but you didn’t think twice about opening it. 

You let out a squeak as you saw the scene in front of you. 

Your eldest brother was balls deep in your younger one, tugging at his hair as he slammed into him. They both stopped as they saw you, but neither of them moved. 

You met Sam’s eyes and blushed as they were dark. Both men were sweaty and panting. You stepped back and that seemed to snap them out of it as they scrambled to get clothes on.

But it was too late, you were already running down back to your room, not knowing if you were feeling disgusted or flustered.

Maybe a bit of curiosity too.