roses are red, violets are blue, phil lester is a beautiful man whom i love with the entirety of my ass and i want him to be happy always and forever, living life carefree with flowers in his hair and warmth in his heart
country singer bitty accidentally writes a hit about nhl player jack
Based on this post about the inspiration for Dolly Parton’s Jolene, which is somehow even gayer than the song itself. Bless you, Dolly.
It had started out so innocently.
Bitty had been tired after hours of this meet n’ greet, and when that tall drink of water walked up to get his autograph, Bitty couldn’t help the words that tumbled out of his mouth.
“Gosh, well aren’t you the most handsome fella I’ve ever seen,” he said, reached for the outstretched CD–CD! Who even bought CDs anymore?–and readied his Sharpie. “What’s your name, hun?”
“Uh, Jack,” the man said, pretty eyes going wide. If he’d been more awake, Bitty might’ve felt bad for making a fan uncomfortable. But if this Jack really were a fan, then he certainly wouldn’t have a problem with another man complimenting him. And besides, he was handsome, with his wide shoulders and high cheekbones and eyes as blue as the summer sky.
I just wanna stay in the sun where I find Pieces of peace in the sun’s peace of mind I know it’s hard sometimes Yeah, I think about the end just way too much But it’s fun to fantasize On my enemies who wouldn’t wish who I was But it’s fun to fantasize
Oh, oh, I’m falling, so I’m taking my time on my ride
*Lyrics from Twenty one pilots - Ride
Gladiolus Amicitia, Ignis Scientia, Prompto Argentum & Noctis Lucis Caelum in the happy days before Altissia, Final Fantasy XV
BTS Reaction ; Falling For You While Being in A Relationship
Requested by Anonymous,“Hello, I love your blog so much! You’re such a talented writer! Can I request a reaction to BTS falling for one of their friends (who is the reader/OC) while they have a girlfriend? Sorry if my english is weird. Thank you and I love you! 💖💖💖”
Note; jdfks YOUR ENGLISH IS FINE AND I LOVE YOU TOO!
It’s been awhile since he realized he had feelings for you and he was terrified. He knew he had to choose one, his best friend or his significant other — but it was hard for him, too afraid to confront his girlfriend and leave a mess he’d rather not clean up. He loves you, spending every passing day with you and even cancelling meet ups with his girlfriend like she was nothing but a nuissance. His phone always kept ringing with texts, and when he finally got tired of it one day as he forced the device to slumber when you both went out to eat, you finally ask him about it. “Is it your girlfriend calling?” You ask with a teasing smile as he blows on his steaming soup.
“Nah,” he whispers, sliding the phone into his pocket, “it’s no one important.”
The moment Yoongi realized he was falling for you, he had ended it with his girlfriend right then and there. He wasn’t going to lead someone on when his heart belonged to someone else, and even if you didn’t know about his feelings — he didn’t care in the slightest. He invited you to the studio and dorms plenty of times, and he would be smiling more often, teasing you and just basking in the beauties of you. It was one day when you two were in the studio alone, that you finally notice his gaze burning holes into your soul. “What?” You snap, annoyed, and he simply sways his arms nervously as he smiles admiringly.
“I love you.”
It was just a simple crush that prolonged as wine overfilled his glass and intoxicated him, permanately drunk on you. Being with you made him happy, but he was way too afraid to leave his girlfriend due to the aftermath — and the cruel reality that you may never return his feelings had obsidian ink dripping into half of his heart. He always left you at abrupt times, never trusting himself around you as his body begged to touch yours, and when he got up to calm his flushed cheeks and fluttering heart, you raised an eyebrow, thinking he was sick. “Are you okay?” The question drips from your lips and freezes him, quickly feigning a smile and refusing to stare you in the eyes.
“Yep.” Hell no.
➳ “So how is she?”
And the question alone makes his stomach drop. How is she? His girlfriend? He didn’t know, his eyes only staring into yours that seemed to calm him many of times, making him feel at ease as if they were home — and before he can even realize what he says, the next words casually leave his vocal chords. “Broken.”
“What?” You ask, eyebrows knitting together as you tilt your head to the side in confusion.
“(y/n), I broke up with her a while back,” he confesses, because it is true, he just never deemed it necessary to let others know, “because..I realized I was in love with you.”
He couldn’t help himself, and he was even disgusted with himself. His feelings bloomed with each passing day, the floret growing bigger and stronger and refusing to wilt. He is way too nice to leave his girlfriend even though he knew all he felt was attraction towards her, but with you..he is in love with you. Deeply. “Like the stars, you’re beautiful.” He says as you both sit in the back of his truck during the night, and immediately, you become flustered.
“Oh shut up, you ass,” you laugh, pushing his shoulder but he quickly grabs your hand.
“I’m being honest,” a genuine smile forms on his lips as he looks into your eyes, “how do you look so beautiful all the time?”
I’m traditional, is his excuse to everything, especially to leaving his girlfriend he was way too afraid to confront like a man and leave. His feelings for you were obvious, his replies to you becoming even shier and shorter, rectangular smiles nearly ripping the skin on his cheeks as he would playfully try to put his hands on you as they ached to feel the sparks he felt whenever they touched your warm skin. He was even more playful, and one day when you two fall off the couch of the dark living room, falling into his chest while becoming a giggling mess from his tickle attack — you try to get up after having calmed down only for his arms to instantly wrap tightly around the small of your back and pull you flush against his chest.
“Just a little longer,” his deep voice breathes, “please.”
“You’re not my boyfriend.”
And he stiffens as those words, even if you giggled them, leave your mouth as they used his heart like a punching bag. You’re not my boyfriend. He sits there, slumping into the couch he sits on defeatedly as your eyes settle on Taehyung from across the party, telling him that you were going to spend time with the older man and Jungkook knew where this was going. He was jealous, and he didn’t want you to go, grabbing your arm with such force to keep you seated beside him even if his girlfriend was watching you two from afar. But you were right, he wasn’t yours, you weren’t his and you never will be.
And regretfully, he stares into his lap as he whispers, “I wish I was.”
How would you imagine each daddy acting when they are extremely jealous?
i live for this. i love putting characters through angst guESS IM evil
¯\_(ツ)_/¯ -dad alex
Robert- He has a habit of falling in love too easily and getting carried away with the feeling. Robert can’t express his emotions all too well, either. So when he sees you hang out with another dad one day, and watches you through the window as you hug him goodbye, he immediately hits your phone up and asks you to come over. When you do, he’s already a little drunk, and he goes through the same destructive habits he’s had for years. He throws you against the wall and bites your neck until the skin beneath his teeth burns with angry red. He leaves several bruises like that on you, and when he decides he’s done, he tries to go down on you. You’ve known him long enough to know when he’s upset, and you grab his shoulders to stop him from going any further. By the end of the night he’s shaking in your arms, sobbing into your chest and saying the same words over and over again: “I don’t want to lose you. Please. Don’t leave me.”
Damien- He doesn’t realize what that twisted feeling in his gut is till it’s in too deep. Guilt mixes with his jealousy, and he can’t find it in his heart to tell you. It eats away at him slowly, and over time, he starts throwing more and more subtle hints at you. It started with a bouquet of I love you flowers with a lone, purple I’m sorry hyacinth buried in there, and ended with a bouquet of yellow at your doorstep one night. Yellow hyacinths, christmas roses with long, yellow centers, and a single yellow rose. The overwhelming joy of the color contrasted sharply with the meaning of the flowers themselves. Damien laid in his bed when he arrived home, believing you wouldn’t pick up on the meaning of the bouquet for a while- but to his surprise, you show up at his door and envelope him in a soft embrace. Damien feels embarrassed because he’s only wearing PJs and his hair is messy, but you tell him you don’t mind, laying in his bed and reassuring him that he’s the one you love.
Craig- He did increasingly stupid things to get your attention , like taking fast U turns and giving you bad whiplash. The dumbest thing he did happened on a late night after the girls won a big softball game. Most of the people in the stands were gone, and only a few members of the team were still there. Craig was… talking to the moms? Talking to them? You feel a lump form in your throat as you watch a mom feel Craig’s bicep, and he… doesn’t shake her off. Your jaw tightens. The moms make increasingly flirty advances and, after five minutes of him ignoring you, you take off and drive home. Craig shows up at your door exactly a minute after you walked through it. You get in an argument right there at your doorstep. All he can do is say, “How does it feel to be the jealous one this time?” Your heart aches when you hear his voice crack. He steps inside and he holds on to you like you’re a rock and he’s trying not to be swept away. You lay in your bed with him just like that, pressing kisses to his forehead, calling him an idiot, and reassuringly massaging his head.
Joseph- Not really a jealous person, or… at least that’s what he thought. He remembers the day he dumped you vividly in his mind- he said he wanted to work on his marriage. In all honesty, nothing had changed since then except you. After a week or so of hiding yourself in your house, you started to go out again. You started seeing one of the other Dads. Joseph didn’t realize how much it bothered him until he saw you kiss him- open armed, trusting- trust that you could never give Joseph again. You moved on. He hasn’t.
Mat- He tries very, very, very hard not to be aggressive or assertive when people hit on you at concerts. Mat tries to be understanding. It happens. People get drunk, see someone attractive, and try to pry them away from their boyfriend that they are holding hands with. They flirt with people even though they are totally, completely taken. Very obviously taken. Up until this point, he’s been passive enough to calmly walk away and take you home. But this? He can’t take it anymore. This has to be the third person that’s hit on you today. You’re helping him out at the Coffee Spoon because Pablo couldn’t make it. As soon as the person you’re taking orders from asks for your phone number, Mat walks up behind you and wraps his arms around your waist. You turn around and kiss his forehead. As small as the gesture was, it made his heart leap.
Hugo- It happens at a wrestling match. By some kind of black magic coincidence, you end up on the kiss cam. Again. It happens almost every time you go, because every time you go, you end up buying the same seats in the same section. This time, though, Hugo looks up to the camera and sees… you… and the girl sitting next to you. His heart drops when he sees the girl smile and look at you, then it promptly explodes when you lean over your arm rest and kiss him on the cheek instead. For the entire rest of the match, Hugo’s face is bright red. You’re walking outside the venue and into the mostly empty parking lot now. When you get to the car, Hugo pulls you into an embrace. He tells you how upset that made him feel, seeing you and the girl like that, but you reassure him- he’s not just any genuine wrestle boy. He’s your genuine wrestle boy.
Brian- There aren’t very many cases where people flirt with you. Brian is almost always by your side, arm slung around your shoulders or your waist. He’s a very outgoing person, and because of that, he tends to intimidate people enough to ward them off. One night, though, you’re at a barbecue at Joseph’s place. There’s several women there that you don’t recognize. Once they get shot down by Craig, a few of them make their way over to you. You have no idea they’re flirting until Brian comes up next to you and places his hand on your back. He starts talking in the way that he does, except he’s talking about you. How good you are at fishing. How your brownie recipe is the best in the world. How much Maxwell, his dog, loves you. You’ve never seen people excuse themselves so fast before.
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
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.”
“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.
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.”
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.
“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.
“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.
“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.
so i just saw falsettos in theaters and here is everything awesome i managed to remember
Trina wears a small silver star of david necklace throughout the whole show
Whizzer has such intense anxiety during “This Had Better Come to Stop” that he is just wringing his hands like crazy, and this anxious habit follows him noticeably through the rest of his solos
During “March of the Falsettos”, the pit was tossing blocks up to Andrew Rannells and he screams “HIT ME” as he catches one and then goes “HIT ME TWO TIMES” as he catches another
After Jason’s torah portion at the makeshift hospital bar mitzvah, Whizzer grabs his shoulder, looks him in the eye, and whispers “Thank you” before walking out for the last time
Marvin was essentially crying throughout the entire second act including: choking up during “Days Like This”, laugh-crying during “Unlikely Lovers”, when Charlotte pulls him aside to tell him Whizzer is gonna die, trying to hold back tears during “Jason’s Bar Mitzvah”, and trying to belt through tears during “What Would I Do?”
Christian Borle and Andrew Rannells do such an AMAZING job at changing their emotions on a literal dime during the chess game scene
The crazy raw emotion in “I Never wanted to love you” from each and every character
On that same note, Marvin’s FUCKING FACE after he hits Trina was so brilliant and like, immediately regretful and so full of emotion i wanna cry just thinking about it again
On ANOTHER note, after Whizzer answers do I love him with “No”, there’s a whole like 20 second pause before the music starts up again where everyone is just dead silent
Whizzer was literally crying through the entirety of “Days Like This” as everyone kept gathering around him telling him everything was gonna be ok
During the first act Marvin was scary. Like his aggression in the recording does not do his character justice because it is so much more intense live
Every time Charlotte and Cordelia entered frame, the theater cheered obscenely loud (myself included)
All of Trina’s solos were brilliant and i swear to god Stephanie J. Block makes that stage her god damn bitch
WHIZZER IS CRYING THROUGH “You Gotta Die Sometime”. EVERY WORD.
During the “Falsettoland (Reprise) the mic picks up Marvin audibly sobbing as he walks away from Whizzer’s grave
While Jason is reciting his torah portion during the bar mitzvah, Trina is standing behind him mouthing the words to the verse
EVERYONE’S FACIAL EXPRESSIONS WERE OFF THE CHARTS
“I’m Breaking Down” got the most applause in my theater out of any number, and my grandma said that it truly “stole the show"
Trina and Mendel are sleeping on each other and are so adorable when Marvin storms in and wakes them up before “Marvin Hits Trina” cause they start blinking and rubbing their eyes like someone just turned all the lights on in the middle of the night
You can literally see the freckles on Christian Borle’s chest during “What More Can I Say?” that’s how clear it is
The relationship between Mendel and Jason was so cute and there were so many great choreographic parallels of the two of them throughout the whole show. Like just the two of them siting together or dancing together or just being a part from the rest of the family
The entire cast having to dance around using the words fuck and shit
So apparently, baby ducks can imprint. How what would happen is that one day Derek just walks into Deaton's clinic with about ten baby ducks in his arms, which had been following him around all day since they decided for some reason that he is their mom and refused to let him out of their sight .
Derek totally didn’t name them, but, “I think Patrice has abandonment issues.”
“Abandonment issues?” Deaton asked, blinking, and then “Patrice?”
Derek just glared, averting his gaze. Alright, so he had named him. But only because it made them easier to tell apart. “Yes,” he gritted through his teeth, holding out the baby ducks for Deaton to take. “I can’t look after them. So here, you have to take them.”
Deaton shook his head. “I think you’re doing just fine, Derek,” he said in a way that could either mean ‘fuck off’ or ‘these ducklings are part of some bigger plan that I’m not going to tell you about’ and then walked away. Just like that.
Later that evening, Stiles came home to find Derek….and several ducklings on his bed.
“Please tell me that’s not the pack,” was the first thing he said, panicked that he wasn’t feeling just as panicked about that scenario as he should be. He wasn’t going to lie and say the thought of Jackson being turned into a baby duck didn’t amuse him.
“No, it’s not the pack,” Derek answered, rolling his eyes, letting one crawl into his hands. “I think….” he frowned. “I don’t think they have…parents.”
“Yeah, “ Derek nodded, all serious and utterly adorable. “And….I don’t know what to do.”
It was hard to read Derek most of the time, but Stiles thought he was getting better at it and this was definitely Derek speak for: ‘I found these baby animals and now I am scared I’m going to hurt them because I don’t have the best track record. SOS, send help, I am a tragic, brooding, beautiful mess’.
Okay, so maybe not the last part. But Stiles was definitely on to Derek.
Derek looked up at Stiles then, as if reading his thoughts, like Stiles had all the answers to the universe. Usually, Stiles was flattered when Derek came to him for help. Well, not flattered, per se. Smug. Smug was the word he’d use. He liked being smug around Derek, his own personal fucked up foreplay. But right now, something different was tingling in the pit of his stomach. He felt warm, and maybe just a little bit helpless. He wasn’t sure if it was a feeling he necessarily liked.
“Well, how about we start with a pond?” he suggested, leaning back against his bedroom door, resisting the urge to grab his phone and snap a picture.
“A pond?” Derek’s eyebrows shot up. “You mean, like, build a pond?” He started shaking his head, like the thought terrified him.
Silly, beautiful wolf.
Stiles shrugged. “Why not? You have the money, don’t you? Plus, I think they like you.” He winked and Derek flushed, right to the tips of his ears. Stiles laughed.
“Come on, sourwolf,” he grinned, shaking his head, picking up his backpack from where he had dumped it on the floor. “Let’s go make us a home.”
“It’s your turn to feed them,” Stiles groaned, turning in Derek’s arms.
He swore he could hear the ducks already quacking impatiently. “Please, babe,I’ll do anything if I don’t have to get up right now. I’ll even blow you. Twice. It’s so waaaaaarm.” He stretched, like the lazy cat he was, and smiled all the way down to his toes.
“Don’t call me ‘babe’,” was the only reply he received.
Stiles groaned again. “Sweetheart?” he tried, instead. “Honey? Chicken pot pie of my life?”
For that, his Derek Hale shaped cover was snatched away from him.
“What’s wrong with chicken pot pie???” he yelled, heart broken. Utterly, utterly heart broken. No, betrayed. Derek was mean.
“Nothing, if you want to stay married to me, noodle.”
Stiles grimaced. Okay, they’d work on their pet names for each other outside of sex later. They couldn’t just stick with ‘asshole’ - it was starting to lose its meaning when they fought.
Shoving a pillow in Derek’s face, because when was that ever not satisfying, Stiles crawled to the side of the bed - and because he had no dignity - rolled out of it. “See if you get any sex when I get back,” he called over his shoulder, grabbing Derek’s boxers on the way out of the door.
Derek only grinned when Stiles looked back, already falling back to sleep.
Warnings: angst adjacent, smut, dirty talk, LOTS of language
Word Count: 2.7k
A/N: I was looking through some REALLY old requests and I came across an idea from @jennalyncarrigan1230 from who knows how long ago. She pitched an idea that I have twisted and LOVE the outcome. I doubt she even remembers sending the ask, but her initial idea sparked this smutty goodness. This took on a life of its own. I haven’t wrote Dean smut or ANY smut in quite some time. This is officially DIRTY. Or at least by my standards it is. Hope you enjoy. ;)Italics & Bold indicate reader’s thoughts. This has very little plot. Just the poor reader thinking her secret dirty thoughts about Dean only to have them be not so secret anymore.
Summary: In which Richie and Eddie are both flustered by a moment that was rudely interrupted.
Prompt 86: “Have you seen- oh”
Prompt 42: “I’d like to talk to you when you have your pants on, okay?”
A/N: Thankyou to who requested this!! This is so hard not to make sexual as the request specifically asked for them to be in the middle of a ‘moment’ like a make out and they’re walked in on. Please don’t think I’m trying to sexualise the kiddos in any way shape or form because that is not my intention. ALSO, they’re 15 in this fic!! I’m this age and people at my age are doing MUCH worse than making out so please keep your argument about me sexualising them to yourselves bC TEENAGERS MAKE OUT, TEENAGERS DO A LOT OF BA D THINGS
“Eds, hey- Eds.”
Eddie grumbled, pulling the sheets over his head to block out the voice of Richie Tozier.
“Eds, c’mon. Get up.”
“Fuck off Richie. Don’t call me that.” Eddie hissed, staying under the sheets and attempting to fall back into a peaceful slumber.
Richie frowned, his head tilted with his glasses falling down his nose. He lifted a single finger up and pushed them up, leaving yet again another fingerprint against his dirtied lenses. His imprint smudges the sight in once light, but Richie barely notices.
“No one is fucking here, I think Bill and Stan left.” Richie pestered on, grabbing Eddie’s shoulder and shaking it heavily.
Eddie frowned, eyes slowly sliding open and a groan of frustration leaves Eddie’s lips and he sits up, glaring daggers at Richie with fresh tears of waking up abruptly on his waterline.
“Richie, you fucking asshole. That is what you wake me up for?”
“Well, I woke up alone and I didn’t want to be alone. Why is that a problem?”
“I barely sleep as it is, Richie! You just fucking broke me from an actual good sleep!” Eddie cried, anger pulsing through his veins before he quickly calms down, grabbing his hair strands as he places his head in his hands.
Richie couldn’t help but feel guilt for his own selfish actions, sighing quietly and awkwardly patting at his bare thigh as he only wore underwear and a random band tee, as always, to sleep.
“Eds, I’m sorry.” Richie sat down, climbing onto the mattress next to Eddie.
Eddie was silent for a moment before speaking up, “It’s fine. I didn’t mean to totally freak out.” Eddie too let the nickname slide, as he played with the edged trim of the blanket that covered his own bare legs.
Silence pierced the thin air of Bill’s room, as the two sat in silence next to each other with their elbows grazing one another. Richie sucked in his bottom lip, and shuddered as he wasn’t covered by Eddie’s bedding and was exposed to the late September air.
“Why don’t you sleep good, Eds?” Richie questioned, with his head tilted and looking towards Eddie.
Eddie nibbled at the skin that peeled from his lower lip, rubbing his hands together and he shrugged.
“I..I guess it’s just nightmares? They’re weird. Like, fuck.” Lies. Total fucking lies.
“What are they like?” Richie watched the way his hands moved and jittered, which was a sign he was lying as well as the lip biting.
“Well,” Eddie started, before trying to find his words as if thinking through everything he was about to say and how he would say it, “Um, just stuff like me getting sick. Shit like that.”
Richie thought about how long he had to think about his supposed ‘nightmares’ and his response to his question. Richie nodded, not pressuring the boy any further.
Eddie gulped as he thought of the real reason, one of his slight fears that often triggered his anxiety late at night. His sexuality. See, Eddie was still curious and testing the waters with himself; not knowing if he was into girls or into guys or both. That wasn’t the problem though, his problem was his Mother. His mother would possibly think that Eddie would be screwed up mentally and have many mental illnesses if he told his Mother that he liked guys in any way shape or form. He’d never get a break and he’d never be allowed to have sleepovers like this or even be allowed to talk another male ever again.
Eddie cringed as the thoughts came back to him, quickly trying to shake them away by focusing upon Richie.
“So, how was your night? Sleeping, I mean.”
“Oh, I sleep like a fucking rock.” Richie chuckles, his shoulders moving as he chuckles.
“How is sleeping like a rock a good thing?” Eddie tilts his head, looking to Richie, “Rocks are hard, it must be hard to sleep.”
Richie smirks, “Maybe that’s because I am hard most of the time.”
Eddie is confused for a moment before realisation hits him forcefully and he groans with a blush spreading over his cheeks, “Fuck off, Richie. You know what I meant.”
“Especially morning wood, oh boy, let me tell you-”
Eddie clamps a hand over Richie’s mouth before he gets more flustered than he already is. Eddie’s eyes are wide, staring into Richie’s without blinking. Richie can’t help but notice how the two boys were as close as ever, with Eddie obviously blushing like a tomato. Richie felt his smirk grow even more under Eddie’s palm and he wiggled his eyebrows at the crimson boy.
Eddie felt the movements under his palm, staring into Richie’s large eyes due to his spectacles, before sighing in annoyance.
“Seriously, Richie? Your lenses are jacked up.” Eddie removes his hand before taking Richie’s glasses off slowly and carefully.
Richie was too slow to protest, feeling his own face heat up as his whole face was no longer hidden by his coke bottle glasses which covered a lot of his insecurities up. Richie felt exposed in a weird way, not being able to see Eddie properly but Eddie being able to see every pore and flaw that laid upon Richie’s face.
Eddie breathed hot air onto both lenses, using his own shirt to wipe away each of the finger prints and splashes from substances that had stained the lenses.
Richie watched with blind eyes, barely being able to tell what he was doing for him. His eyes were squinted and his head tilted forward and staring directly at the hazed actions.
Finally, Eddie was done and he lifted them up delicately, placing them back on Richie’s face with a small and soft grin.
“Be more clean, asshole. Isn’t that much better?” Eddie folded his arms over smugly.
Richie blinked and pushed them up higher on his nose, this time with the small space between the lenses and not smudging them like he usually does. He could see much clear, being able to see the soft sun rays peak through the curtains and shining on Eddie’s baby face. He admired everything in that moment, how one eye of his was squinting due to the orange-y hue that blinded one of his eyes from seeing Richie properly and the other remaining soft and bambi like. How Eddie’s right corner of his lips was arched higher than the other and how his usually neatened chocolate strands were in fact out of place and going in every direction.
Richie couldn’t help himself, he really couldn’t. The moment before him couldn’t be more flawless.
Really? You’re gonna do this now? Now-
Richie’s thoughts were cut off by his actions as he leaned forward and pressed his lips to Eddie’s.
Eddie’s smug look was wiped away in a split second, his eyes widening as he stared at Richie’s closed pair of eyes with shock and in awe. Eddie had both of his hands raised at the side of Richie’s face in shock which soon, he melted. He melted perfectly against Richie and his hands fell onto his cheeks, feeling Richie’s heated skin beneath his clammy palms.
Richie felt his hands snake around Eddie’s waist, pulling him onto his lap for a better position in the kiss. Richie, being much more confident than Eddie in the whole ‘first kiss’ scenario as Eddie was of course, oblivious on how to kiss.
The two newly found 15 year old boys, had their arms all over each other with their lips smearing against the other pair that battled for dominance in the kiss. Richie ran his tongue across Eddie’s bottom lip for a silent ask for permission, knowing his boundaries due to Eddie’s phobia of anything to do with germs or sickness’. Eddie hesitated, before opening his lips to allow Richie swirl his tongue inside in perfect sync with Eddie’s. Richie was soft, comfortable and caring for Eddie, making sure to not cross any lines that would make Eddie be disgusted or revolted in any way.
Eddie then pushes Richie forward. At first, this caused Richie to think that he did somehow cross the line but instead- he was pushed on his back and Eddie was sitting on his lower stomach.
Richie stared up at Eddie with soft eyes as well as a smirk. “I always thought you’d be a bottom, Eds.”
Eddie’s chest burned bright as his blush had spread all over. “Shut up, asshole. I don’t like it when you call me that.”
But oh, how they both knew that what Eddie had said was a lie.
Eddie then leaned down, his lips colliding with Richie’s again, tasting the same blackberry bubblegum that lingered on Richie’s set of lips from the previous night whilst his own tasted of mint. His legs begun shaking lightly from the intense makeout session that was happening currently, only for Richie to place his hand on the back of Eddie’s thigh to soothe him.
“Hey have you seen- oh.”
Eddie flung himself away from Richie and Richie fell off the mattress head first with a grunt of pain leaving past his pink and swollen lips. Eddie pressed his back against the wall, tidying his messy hair and trying to cover his own flustered blush that had been permanently tattooed onto his cheeks.
Both saw Stan, stood there, with a water gun in his hands and his own face heating up in embarrassment from walking in on a situation which could’ve went anywhere if he had not walked in. Stan gulped audibly and looked elsewhere.
“I’d like to talk to you when you have your pants on, okay?”
The two boys looked at each other in horror and realised how the situation must look to someone like Stan who just walked in on the two boys pantless and in their underwear with Eddie sitting on top of Richie in a heated makeout.
“No Stan it’s not-”
Stan had already walked off, without letting Richie finish his sentence.
Eddie quickly reached for his inhaler which was kept under his pillow, taking a few quick puffs from anxiety racing under his skin. Richie looked over worryingly before sighing.
“Look, don’t worry. Lets just get dressed and go talk to him, kay’?”
Despite Richie’s comforting words, Eddie couldn’t help but feel his fear of his sexuality raise higher and higher. He pushed it back as both him and Richie dressed themselves in their usual attire for the day.
Both boys, once done changing, looked at eachother with soft eyes and Richie then offered his hand out to Eddie and tilting his head as if he was mentally asking, ‘Are you okay?’
Eddie nodded, reaching his own out and grabbing Richie’s for comfort. Richie then walked forward and guided his soon to be boyfriend out of Bill’s empty bedroom.
I know you probably have a lot of requests with the gods and monsters - but would you ever do an Ares based one?
mistress Io remains in her form of a cow, guarded by Hera’s servant Argus, and Hera
will remain in that form until her death. Hera hopes that lying with her
husband was worth the sacrifice.
speak to her, unwilling to admit the cow is actually his lover and ensure her
death, and equally unwilling to stand against his wife to try and rescue her.
Hera has him just where she wants him, and it can’t last, it never does, but
she intends to enjoy it while it does.
Artemis comes to her, gold and fierce. She never flinches away from her queen,
staring her in the face as if she is nothing more than another of her
huntresses. If Hera did not hate her for being her husband’s daughter, she
thinks she might actually like the girl. “Io has a destiny,” she says, “you
must let her go.”
care for her destiny,” Hera says idly, “especially when that destiny involves
getting with my husband’s child.”
to give birth to a new line of kings,” Artemis hisses, “to be the wife of a
death god, to be mother goddess of a whole new people. She is not meant for us.
You must let her go.”
Hera,” she says, “I am Queen. I must do nothing.”
growls, hand twitching for her bow, but Hera only raises an eyebrow. Let the
girl try. There are few that can stand against her, and the huntress is not
among them. Artemis lets out a low breath and says, “Do it, my queen, and I
will grant you what it is you most desire.”
peace and quiet?” Hera asks.
child,” she answers. “Let Io go, let her fulfill her destiny as a goddess of
the Black Land of the Nile. If you do that, I, the patron goddess of
childbirth, will personally use every ounce of power I possess to ensure you
conceive and deliver a child of Zeus.”
eyes narrow, “Neither my power nor his has ever been able to achieve this. What
makes you think you are any different?”
have our domains,” she says, “just as you cannot command the sea, just as your
husband has no power over the art of weaving, so can I ensure a healthy child
when you could not.”
taps her fingers against her throne. They call her a mother goddess, though
she’s raised no children. Hephaestus may be her precious son, but he doesn’t
know that it was not her that threw him from Olympus. Very few people know
that. And she didn’t raise him regardless, that honor belongs to Hecate.
child, of her and Zeus. A child she can raise.
accept,” she announces. “You may take her, and Zeus may fulfill her destiny.”
She leans forward, brings the oppressive weight of her power to the fore and
lowers the pressure of the air until Artemis is left shivering. “Know this,
Patron Goddess of Childbirth. If Io births a son of Zeus before I do, I will
travel to the Black Land of the Nile and slay her and her children with my own
two hands. Not even Hades will be able to put her back together again.”
my Queen,” Artemis says, unable to keep her teeth from chattering.
true to her word. She allows Hermes to think he’s tricked Argus and to steal Io
away. She pretends to be outraged at the audacity, at the pure white cow
traveling to the sands of the Nile.
is true to her word. Hera lies with Zeus, like she has so many times before,
and a child grows inside of her. One day she stands before her husband and
brings his hand to the swell of her stomach, “This is your child.”
almost like happiness steals across his face. She forgets, sometimes, that they
hate each other only as much as they love each other. After so much time
together, many would think it would be one or the other. They simply opted for
is there during the birth, her easy confidence more comforting then Hera will
ever admit. Delivering Hephaestus was easy compared to this. She screams and
cries and Hestia’s hands on her shoulders are all that keeps her from
collapsing and begging someone to just cut the child from her. She doesn’t think
she can die in childbirth, not with Artemis between her legs. She wishes she’d
thought to ask before this began.
does not die. Her son is born, just as healthy and beautiful as Hephaestus was.
“Well done,” Artemis says softly, placing the squirming child into her arms.
touches her hair and kisses his son’s forehead. “We shall call him Ares.”
well,” she agrees, so tired her eyes struggle to stay open.
hands her son to Hestia, and finally allows sleep to take her.
grows into the spitting image of his father. Same copper-red skin, same silky
black hair. Her husband keeps it short, but her son lets his grow long. The
minutes Hera spends every morning brushing his hair are among her favorite.
an eager smile and a soft heart. Hera doesn’t know where he got it, since it’s
certainly not from her or Zeus. Demeter tolerates his bumbling after her,
though any time Kore attempts to meet her cousin Demeter’s temper frays.
Poseidon allows Ares to explore the depths of the sea with a minor sea god
acting as his guide. Apollo plays for him, and Artemis teaches him to hunt.
Zeus’s lightning doesn’t burn his son, and when storms rage he takes Ares to
the top of Olympus and teaches him to throw lightning bolts.
selfishly does not allow Ares to go to the underworld. She knows he would be
safe there, that Hades would protect him as he protected Hephaestus, but that’s
precisely why she won’t allow it. They got to raise one of her sons already. It
pains her to share Ares with them now.
happy, and kind, kinder than anyone would expect a child of her womb to be.
must choose a domain,” Zeus rumbles, watching Ares shoot arrows with perfect
a child still,” Hera says, “let him remain so for a little longer.”
does not choose a domain,” Zeus warns, “one will choose him. We are gods. We
must be gods of something.”
flickers her gaze at him, and he scoots an inch away from her. “He is a child,
and for now a child he will remain. We are not Demeter. We shall not thrust the
responsibilities and power of a deity on a child who is not prepared for it.”
disapproves, but says nothing more.
will be the god of something patient, something soft. The god of lost children,
of heartbroken suitors, of forgiveness. Something where his gentle heart will
aid him instead of hurt him.
traded her happiness for power. She doesn’t regret it. But Ares doesn’t need to
do the same – she’s the most powerful goddess that still walks the earth. He’s
her son, and he’ll want for nothing she can provide.
almost fully grown, long hair reaching his hips even braided, and the strength
of his limbs is such that he can keep up with Artemis on her most vigorous of
hunts, that he can throw his father’s lightning bolts halfway across the world.
been to every place, and met every god of the earth, sea, and sky.
not hard to find the volcano. He’s strong enough and old enough to take care of
himself, and his mother does not worry when he says he’s going to the earth.
But he did not tell her where, precisely, on the earth he was going.
strong legs. It’s easy for him to climb to the top of the volcano. He’s
almost made it there when something grabs his shoulders, stilling him. He
turns, and stares into a single large eye. “What are you doing?” the cyclopes
looking for Hephaestus,” he says, “He’s my brother.”
master has many brothers,” the cyclopes says.
shakes his head. He is not the product of his father’s fling with a sprite or
mortal. “I am Ares, son of Zeus and Hera. Just as Hephaestus is. I came here to
meet my brother.” The cyclopes hesitates. He asks, “What’s your name?”
he answers, surprised.
he smiles, “I just want to meet him. I’ve never met him before. I won’t
a moment where Brontes looks conflicted, and Ares tries to look as unassuming
as possible. “Fine,” he huffs, “but don’t get angry at me if he dips you in
would be fun,” he says brightly. Lightning doesn’t burn him. So far the only
thing hot enough to cause him pain is Hestia’s fire. He probably could
go swimming in lava.
looks at him as if he’s slightly unhinged. He just keeps smiling.
are more cyclopes underneath, and bright glittering machines that Ares can’t
even begin to wrap his mind around. “Who are you?” someone demands, and a hand
grabs his wrist and yanks him away from a boiling vat of lava that he’d been
looks up at a man taller and broader than he is. He has skin almost as dark as
the obsidian of his volcano, but lighter eyes. They are the color of dark
amber, of molasses. “We have the same eyes,” he says happily.
releases him instantly. “You shouldn’t be here.”
not?” he asks, “The mortals talk of you. No one else will. But you’re my
shouldn’t be here,” he repeats, “Does Zeus know where you are?”
shrugs, taking a step closer. His brother takes a step back. He wonders if
he’ll have to treat Hephaestus like a spooked horse. “Father doesn’t keep
track of where I am. Mom know I’m on earth.” Hephaestus flinches, small enough
that he almost doesn’t notice. “We have her eyes, you know.”
can’t stop starring at Hephaestus’s skin. They do not work like mortals –
Demeter, Hestia, Zeus, and Hera are all different shades despite coming from
the same parents. But – Ares looks so much like his father. Kore looks like
Demeter. Yet Hephaestus looks nothing like their father. He can see their
mother in him, in the eyes and shape of his jaw, even in how angry he is right now. He looks like
Hera does when she’s about to lose her temper, lips pressed into a thin line
and the careful stillness of his shoulders.
trying to make you angry,” he says plaintively, “I only wanted to say hello.”
their mother, Hephaestus lets out a deep breath and seemingly all of his anger
along with it. “I’ve been avoiding you.”
You don’t even know me.”
kicks him lightly in the shin, the pretty gold and copper of his metal legs catching
his eye. “You have legs, and I do not. Hera did not throw you from Mount
Olympus as she threw me.”
hard at his brother’s face. The stories say his mother threw her son away for
being ugly, but he seems just as handsome as any other god Ares has seen. His
features are strong and chiseled, and he supposes that could have looked unattractive
on a baby, but –
– his mother
loves him. Hera loves him with a ferocity only matched by her temper, she loves
him at his most mischievous and irritable, loves him when a stray thunderbolt
sets Demeter’s hair on end, loves him when even Artemis and Apollo have grown
tired of his antics, loves him when Athena can tolerate no more of his
questions. He is her son, and so her love comes without conditions.
doesn’t think Hera would have loved his brother any less just because of how he
knows that if he tries to say that, it’s likely Hephaestus will push him into a lava pit.
that’s not my fault,” he says, “If you don’t want us to be brothers, can’t we
at least be friends?”
face softens. He looks like their mother then too. He crosses his arms, “You can’t tell your
Our parents, he thinks but doesn’t say. “Obviously.
Where did you get so many cyclopes?”
last remnants of his brother’s stern façade shatters as he throws back his head
very near maturity, more adult than child, and his father constantly pressures
him to choose a domain. He usually quiets with one sharp glance from his wife,
but the fact remains that it is time for Ares to take his place among the gods
of the pantheon, to have temples in his name and worshipers like a proper
doesn’t really want any of that. He
wants to continue hunting with Artemis, learning with Athena, building with
lets him help out in his workshop sometimes, if he’s very careful and does
exactly as he’s told. Otherwise he sits on a table, legs swinging, and watches
his brother work and tells him about what he does in the time in-between
visits. He talks about their mother enough that Hephaestus doesn’t flinch at
her every mention, which Ares can only consider an improvement. Sometimes
Brontes will stand beside him and they’ll eat sweet buns together.
all things, good and bad, must come to an end.
are two giants, Otus and Ephialtes, who grow tired of hearing of the golden boy
of Olympus, who grow jealous of his kindness and his beauty.
two giants sneak onto Mount Olympus in the middle of the night, sneak into Ares’s
room, and kidnap him. They’re not stupid enough to attempt to kill him.
Instead, they stuff him into an urn, and seal him inside. Ares rages and
fights, uses every trick he can think of to break out his prison, but none of
at the bottom of the urn and seething, he can’t help but think that if he’d
listened to his father and chosen a dominion he might be strong enough to free
himself. But he didn’t, so he can’t, and instead he waits.
turn to weeks turn to months. He knows they’re looking for him. He knows his
mother will tear apart the whole universe attempting to find him if nothing
else. But – what if they can’t? What if he’s stuck in this urn for the rest of
darkest moments, his sorrow turns to rage. He is a god, son of Hera and Zeus,
how dare they do this to him?
one day, the urn opens.
peers down into it, then his face splits into a grin. “We’ve been looking for
you!” He reaches down and hauls Ares out, and for a moment all he can do is
blink at the glaring sun. Then his vision clears, and he sees they’re in the
midst of a battle. The giants are fighting against the gods, against his
parents, against the twins, against his brother. It’s bloody carnage, but – he can’t
help but feel touched that all these people came looking for him. “Almost everyone
offered to help find you,” he says, “but Hera didn’t want to draw too much
attention to ourselves trying to sneak into their territory.”
sooner has Hermes finished speaking than a giant barrels into his mother with
sickening snap. Her shoulder slopes at a grotesque angle, but it hardly even
slows her down.
to help,” he says, a desperate urgency filling him. They came to help him, and
now they’re getting hurt. That’s never something he’d wanted.
wait!” Hermes calls out as he goes hurtling toward the battle. He doesn’t wait.
Fighting on the ground can only do so much good, they’re strong but they’re
outnumbered one hundred to one. He darts to Artemis, twisting around the bodies
she’s throwing over her shoulder. “I need your bow!”
she says joyously, then, “What?”
me,” he says, “give me your bow.” A giant comes running towards them. Artemis
flips him over her shoulder while continuing to stare at him in confusion. He’d
be impressed if he wasn’t so worried. “Artemis, please!”
hands over her bow. She moves to give him her quiver of arrows as well, but he’s
already moving away from her. Next it’s to his father, who’s hurtling lightning
bolts towards the swarm of giants crowding him. They’re deadly, but only so
effective at close-range. He grabs a sizzling lightning bolt right from Zeus’s
hand, the only being on the planet who could do that and survive, and keeps
running. “Get clear!” he calls out over his shoulder. “Everyone move!”
up past Hermes, needing to get to high ground for this to work. “Get everyone
off the battlefield,” he says to Hermes. “Now.”
pulls a face, but by the time he makes it to the top of the mountain, the gods
have shaken off most of the giants, are far enough away that he doesn’t have to
do this. He’s Ares, the son of Hera and Zeus. He’s been trained in archery by
the great huntress herself. He breaths in, and strings his father’s lightning
bolt like an arrow. He pulls it back, breaths out, and lets the lightning bolt
lands in the middle of the battlefield full of confused giants. With a great
clap of thunder and a burst of light, they’re all gone.
that remains of the traitorous giants is a crater.
gods are approaching him, his mother at a limping gait that makes his chest
ache. Zeus gets to him first, grin stretched wide as he grabs him by both his
shoulders. “My boy! That was magnificent!”
he says. The smell of charred flesh is in the air, and it makes his stomach
kidnapped him. They stuffed him in an urn for over a year. They hurt his mom.
doesn’t mean he enjoyed it. He never wants to do anything like that ever again.
was destiny,” his father says enthusiastically, and Ares has no idea what he’s
talking about. “This is what you’re meant to do, son.”
stares. He hopes it’s not.
other gods are still at the bottom of the mountain. Artemis and Apollo each have one of his mother’s
arms slung over their shoulders and are helping her up the mountain. Hermes and
Hephaestus aren’t far behind.
never seen his father look so proud of him. There’s a leaden pit in his stomach
he can’t explain.
honor of my son’s great feat,” Zeus booms, his voice carrying across air,
speaking with the voice of the king of the gods so his words become law, so
they spread to every corner of the world, “I declare him Ares, God of War.”