buckybarnesaddicted

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“What happened? Why didn’t we become a Jedi?”

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Get in loser the finale is about to start

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Cosmo and Wanda?

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Golden Elvis

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FUCK IT UP WHITE BOY

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how can seven minutes feel so long

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EWAN McGREGOR  as Camerlengo Patrick McKenna Angels & Demons (2009) dir. Ron Howard

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Astronomical photographs, Harvard College Observatory, Cambridge, 1890-1920

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Transfer - Bucky Barnes

Description: Bucky hates you…. or so you think.

Authors Note: Yeah, y’all seem to like the angsty bucky fics 

Warnings: Angst. Mean bucky

Word Count: 3081 (whoops)

PART 2 - Visits IS HERE 

Part 3 - Returning is HERE

Part 4 - Bleeding is HERE

Keep reading

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remember the episode where reid and hotch are locked in the room with the serial killer chester hardwick? yea.

angst?fluff? combo maybe, and fem reader

fraternization was not permitted between employees of the bureau. your heart had already froze when penelope called you to let you know agent rossi interrupted her steamy shower with kevin from the other floor.

imagine how much trouble you would get into if someone found out your feelings for your unit chief then.

you, him, and reid were on the way to cleveland. he had already asked you a few times if you were sure you wanted to come along. this was a killer who targeted women, and while your presence might provoke the inmate to reveal more, your boss put your comfort first.

it made you feel bad to imagine this man’s hands manipulating you the way he was controlling the steering wheel for the entire drive. luckily reid kept the car ride conversation, while you forced yourself to stare out the window.

as if it wasn’t bad enough that he was your boss, and 10+ years your senior, he had a wife and kid at home.

it came as a surprise when you walked into the prison and had to consciously focus on the serial killer in front of you.

maybe you weren’t as comfortable as you assured hotch. too late for that.

chester hardwick did react to your presence, but not in the way your team members hoped. instead he instigated your unit chief, pushing him past his patience.

so when hotch told you to buzz to let the doors open, you didn’t expect the smile on the killer’s face.

your heart stopped when he told you the guards wouldn’t be back for at least another 13 minutes. and it dropped right to your stomach when he held up the crime scene photo, looked dead in your eyes, and told you it took him less than five to accomplish that.

“unfortunately for you,” hotch got up, drawing hardwick’s attention to him while he smoothly put his body between you and the inmate’s. for the spilt second you could, you saw your boss’ eyes harden, jaw locked, before his back turned to you. he started to remove his suit jacket. “i’m not a 5’, 100lb girl.”

from your peripheral, you saw reid’s expression nearly mirroring yours, until your eyes drew to hotch’s dropped tie and you realized he is 100% intent on fighting a serial killer to protect you two.

you blanked out at that point.

you were new on the team, new to being out in the field. of all the cases you seen, majority were against women, you knew that, you experienced firsthand the way this world treats women, but never, never, did you ever think you would be in this situation.

the racing heart and beating in your ears subsided slightly at reid’s interjection. his erratic rambling blanketed by profiling distracted hardwick, letting you realize you were gripping harshly onto hotch’s ironed shirt. you didn’t let go until the guards came.

hotch ushered you out quickly, leaving reid to gather the belongings.

“wait in the car,” hotch told him, “we’ll be there in a minute.”

reid nodded and left.

you couldn’t look up to met hotch’s eyes. you simply listened to the sound of reid’s shoes on the concrete floor subsiding as you relived what just happened.

then, as if in a fairy tale or some other happily ever after, hotch’s hand came to the back of your head, pulling you into his chest. his cologne filled your senses, the heat from his body brought your mind back down to earth, in an instant you brought your fingers back up to his shirt, and let the few tears you could muster fall in silence.

you stood there for a silent moment, only broken when he said, “i’m sorry.”

you didn’t respond. you were an fbi agent, you would work through it, heck, you might even go through worse things, but you let him believe you needed to be comforted for the selfish reason that you knew you would never get this opportunity again. you’d never get to feel him against you again, listen to the pattern of his breathing again. have him hold you again.

that was reserved for his wife.

he was someone else’s man.

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✧ SEBASTIAN STAN SHARPER, 2023 dir. Benjamin Caron

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“i’m in my slut era” i say as i open tumblr to read fanfictions of characters who don’t exist 

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Gerard Way drawing, taken by Frank Iero.

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ɢʀɪᴇꜰ | ʟᴏʀᴅ ᴍᴏʀᴘʜᴇᴜꜱ

GIFs not mine!

Lord Morpheus x Deity!Reader (Goddess of Nature and Music)

summary: In the wake of his own capture, his queen was imprisoned too.

word count: 971

warnings: angst, seriously, this is angsty, blood, Morpheus wants to burn the Waking World to ashes

author’s note: My first Morpheus work, and we’re directly starting with something short and angsty xD I’m so unhappy with how this turned out, but I’m pushing myself to upload these types of works anyway because I’m my biggest critic and all that. Plus, I’m shitty at writing pure angst. But we’ll deal with this for now before we’re gonna turn to the fluffy part of writing for this god of a man <3

»part 2? part 2.«

;

His eyes were trained on the woman lying next to him on the solid, cold ground. His hand outstretched, his fingers twitching desperately in order to reach her. Only mere inches parted them, but the existence of the laughable distance was mocking him in its impossibility to overcome. Not in his current state.

Dry lips moved slowly, forming words without letting a single sound escape; the agony too consuming to mutter a single syllable. Morpheus was not even convinced she could hear him if he would succeed in calling her name, trying to nudge her mind back into consciousness with the power of his voice. A helpless sound was the only audible thing escaping his parted lips.

And then, abnormal darkness engulfed him once more.

—

His returning consciousness let him move his hand again, but instead of finally palpating the silk-like skin of his wife underneath his fingertips, the Lord of Dreams touched icy cold glass. Unsteadily, he opened his distinct blue eyes, which once held the entire universe in them, but now only pictured the void of a pitch-black night sky. He felt so heavy, his mind slow, his body not responding the way it was supposed to. The loss of his powers was something he almost missed because his tired eyes suddenly rested on red droplets scattering the dirty stone floor.

With a silent groan, Morpheus pushed himself up on his bare knees, blinking rapidly to sharpen his eyesight in the dimly lit basement. Suddenly, he wished he had not done it as every single ounce of air was pushed out of his lungs as if he had fallen from a high looming tower and crashed onto the ground. He felt as if he would suffocate in a matter of fleeting moments; his eyes trained motionless on the pool of blood surrounding a body he knew better than his own.

YN’s eyes blinked slowly, her chest rose barely perceptible for a human’s eye, the fingertips of her outstretched arm trying to find a hold of this realm. Morpheus knew she made an effort to anchor herself so Death could come and bring her back into the Dreaming before every ounce of life had left her body. But he could feel with every agonizing piece of his soul how life slowly faded out of her bright shining eyes, forever reminding him of Fiddler’s Green and every single vegetation that grew in their realm. His heart ached heavily in his chest, tears blurring his sight, and both hands were pressed onto the glass, trying to push through it to get to her, to protect her just as she obviously had done for him.

“YN.” His voice broke in the middle of her name, unable to speak it out, to taste every syllable of it on his lips, letting it flood his mind to ease a pain he had never experienced, never had suffered before. The salty lakes his eyes had turned into overflowed, and still, he didn’t dare to move his gaze from her, not even as his capturer stepped into her blood. Raging fury and hatred burned his insides as the human closed his hands around her throat and neck to lift her off the ground, pressing her body onto the sphere, facing lover to lover. Her eyes, which tended to change their colors frequently, stared dull and lifeless into his own, and despite her dying state, YN managed to grant him the sight of the attempt of one of her beautiful smiles, which always illuminated his life and the Dreaming, bringing comfort and joy.

“Poor little thing. You see, she tried to save you, and I cannot let that happen. So… Her pitiful death is practically your wrongdoing.” Morpheus almost did not listen to the echoing voice, instead holding the last remnants of her gaze captured in his, salty crystals flowing over both faces, connecting them in their pain and loss though separated by sorcery. Her lips gently moved, only visible to his eyes, and he started to make out her words as her eyes lost the last specks of life and her body went limp. The man only let her drop to the floor, where she landed in her own blood, shedded in her attempts to protect him as they had promised one another on the night of their wedding under the darkest but most ethereal firmament ever seen by the eyes of humans, deities, and endless.

With burning rage in his now flaming blue irises filled with a darkening void that swallowed every other emotion in its wake, the Lord of Dreams slowly stared up at his jailer, his heart only knowing hatred anymore. He wanted to see this world burn, but in particular, he craved to see this human burn—the one who had robbed him of his wife and queen, the love of his existence. He wanted to hear him beg for mercy. He wanted to listen to his piercing screams filled with agony, and he would not even stop when he was certain the man had learned his lesson before ending his life with his own bare hands. Morpheus would relish in the afterglow of his glorious vengeance before turning his gaze to the rest of this degenerated order to end every single life himself.

And maybe, after the last scream had faded, he would be satisfied to finally mourn the only woman he had ever wanted.

His gaze settled back onto her body after their capturer left him with her; tears continuing to cover his skin and drowning his soul in anguish and torment which didn’t leave him—

Not even after a century of imprisonment and her gentle voice wandering through his mind, repeating her last words to him over and over.

I will find you in my next existence, my love.

;

I kinda don’t like it, but hey, it’s my first time writing for my baby, so that’s okay. Hope y’all enjoyed it anyway. As usual: Comments, reblogs, and likes are much appreciated! <3

[buckybarnesaddicted]

hi, hope you're doing well. could i please request #22 (hiding their face in the other's neck) from the intimate moment prompts with dream?

I hope you enjoy this!🥰

22. hiding their face in the other's neck

Warnings: Nightmares

Intimate moments

It had been many months since your last nightmare.

It had been so long that it took your slumbering conscious a little while to recognise the experience, to act on the jolt of adrenaline that shot through you as you realised that you were being chased. What it was chasing you, you had no idea, but you felt the sharp scratch of branches against your arms and legs as you ran through the woods and heard its terrible roar not far behind you as it crashed through the undergrowth.

You were not sure why you cried out for Morpheus as you ran. Perhaps your subconscious knew that there was only one with the power to put an end to your nightmare; perhaps he was simply the one you called for now when you were afraid.

When a hand closed around your wrist and pulled, you knew before you awoke that it was him.

Even still, you woke up with the sort of start with which all mortals wake from nightmares; it made Morpheus’ heart clench to see the fear that lingered in your eyes until you spotted him, sitting on the edge of your bed. As you sat up, you reached for him, your fingertips brushing the fabric of his coat.

“I had a nightmare,” you whispered, as though he didn’t know, as though he hadn’t pulled you from it himself.

His jaw tightened. He had taken his eye off of you in the Dreaming for one night and a Nightmare had leapt at the opportunity.

“It will be punished,” he told you, his voice soft and his words anything but, “It will not happen again.”

“I used to have that nightmare all the time, before I met you.” You frowned. “I still don’t know what was chasing me.”

“Nothing that I will ever allow to catch you.”

You believed him, and yet you were hesitant to return your head to your pillow. Your days of nightmares had ended when you met the Lord of Dreams, but the memory of them lingered.

“Would you stay? Only ’til I’m asleep?”

He nodded once and, shedding his long coat for once, moved to lay beside you. Even with the duvet already covering you, you were glad of it when he draped the coat over you too. His arms drawing you in towards his chest so that you were able to bury your face in his neck were all you needed to feel safe to drift back off to sleep. Just before you did, when you were teetering on the edge of slumber, you felt his chin moving atop your head as he murmured to you:

“Rest, my love, and I will meet you in the Dreaming.”