What’s that fic series where reader is an omega but she was kinda made by hydra like she was given omega stuff ig and they only did that so she will mate with the winter soldier. Well sam and Steve was wondering why bucky never got with anyone during his ruts and they researched it and found out about reader and went to the cafe where she works/own(can’t remember and some woman complaining about how reader ain’t a real omega and they see that Bucky has a kid( i think that’s how it goes)
Give Me Shelter, For My Heart | Alpha!Bucky Barnes x Omega!Reader | One Shot? 3k
Things are missing around the Avengers' compound and a newly returned Bucky is acting weirder than normal...Steve and Sam go to investigate and discover more than they bargained for.
Warnings: 18+ for language and suggestion of Hydra violence/torture/experimentation, omegaverse themes including alpha & omega, suggestion of pregnancy/pups, wolf shifting Rated F for Fluff and G for good friends
Challenges & Prompts: @buckybarnesevents Alpha Bucky April with extra prompts - word count, nesting, purring, beta characters, (I'll let mods decide if this hits the breeding/baby fever prompt). And @fandom-free-bingo 'forehead kisses'
“Hmm,” Steve looked around the supply room, surveying the gaps and empty shelves, normally well stocked with blankets and provisions. It was the third time this week he’d found himself at a loss, not just for words but his things too. Everything seemed to be going missing.
First it was a few plates and mugs from the galley kitchen by his office, then it’d been the lunch he’d left for him and Bucky in the fridge. Last night he’d gone into Bucky’s room to make sure he was okay and found the man sleeping on a bare mattress, all the sheets, pillows and blankets were gone and the newly revived Bucky refused to explain what had happened to them or even acknowledge that there was anything wrong at all. He hadn’t even addressed that fact that the window was wide open and it looked as if he was sleeping in his shoes.
Odysseus was many things; a warrior, a wanderer, a king...but in this golden moment, he was something far greater: a human jungle gym for seven wild, giggling children.
The afternoon sun filtered gently through the olive trees, casting soft dapples over the courtyard of Ithaca’s palace. A breeze stirred the lavender, mingling its scent with the warm, earthy aroma of summer. The usually stern stone steps leading into the great hall had been transformed into the scene of pure familial chaos and joy.
Odysseus lay sprawled on his back in the soft grass, pinned beneath a laughing, wriggling mass of small limbs and delighted shrieks. His bronze-streaked beard was caught in the chubby fist of his youngest daughter, who squealed triumphantly as if she had bested the mightiest hero of Troy with nothing but a gummy smile and unmatched tenacity.
“Help! Help!” Odysseus cried with exaggerated desperation, though his wide grin betrayed him. “Seven monsters from the isles have me surrounded—where is my sword? My shield? My dignity?”
The children, none of them older than five, shrieked with laughter.
“Dog pile on Papa!” one shouted, climbing onto his broad chest with a warrior’s determination.
“Get his toes!” yelled another, launching a tickle attack that made Odysseus howl with theatrical pain and real laughter as one gummed on his palm.
You stood a few feet away, a serene smile on your lips and your arms wrapped around the tiniest of your brood, still too young to join in the mayhem. The baby cooed contentedly against your shoulder, clutching a fistful of your tunic as you swayed gently, watching the chaos unfold. There was something sacred in the mess—the laughter, the cries, the absolute lack of decorum. And gods, did it make your heart feel full to bursting.
20 years, 20 years of waiting for your husband to return home and this was your blessing.
Behind you, leaning against a sun-warmed pillar, Telemachus stood with his arms crossed and an eyebrow arched. The teenager gave a long-suffering groan, loud enough to be heard over the laughter.
“Do they always have to scream like that?” he muttered, but the corners of his mouth twitched, betraying the truth. His gaze lingered on his father, who was now trying—poorly—to wriggle free from a pile of pudgy bodies. One of the toddlers had somehow managed to tangle themselves in Odysseus’ hair, and he was laughing so hard he couldn’t even pretend to fight back.
Telemachus rolled his eyes dramatically, but there was a softness there. A quiet kind of awe.
He had grown up with tales of monsters and battles, of long years without a father. But now—now his younger siblings would only know this version of Odysseus: the man who could slay mythical beasts but chose to spend his days covered in sticky fingers and giggles.
You caught Telemachus’ eye and offered him a knowing smile. He sighed but walked forward anyway, sitting down beside you, letting the baby grab hold of his sleeve. His expression softened even more as he gently touched the baby’s cheek.
Odysseus looked up at the two of you from under a tangle of tiny bodies. “I think—I think I’m defeated,” he gasped, reaching out dramatically. “Tell my story…”
One of the twins blew a raspberry against his cheek. He roared with laughter.
"I'll let Athena know quickly that you were defeated by a bunch of babies father." Telemachus joked.
You laughed too, leaning your head against Telemachus’ shoulder, feeling your little one’s breath warm against your neck. The chaos, the noise, the love—it was all perfect. Your little empire, noisy and sticky and divine.
And Odysseus, king of Ithaca, the great hero of myths and men, laughed like he had never laughed before.
Media - EPIC The Musical Saga
Character - Prince Telemachus Of Ithaca
Couple - Telemachus X Reader
Reader - Princess Y/n
Rating - 15
Word Count - 1151
Requested - rurured4 - I’m gonna need a second part of this one too 🤍
Telemachus strode purposefully through the sprawling palace, the polished marble floors reflecting the flickering light of ornate paintings above. He kept his head held high, a surge of confidence swelling within him, largely inspired by the enchantment of his beloved nymph. His grip on the hilt of his sword tightened slightly. He took a moment to adjust his robes, ensuring they concealed the lingering evidence of his erection, before stepping into the grand hall.
As he entered, the sheer scale of the hall enveloped him. Towering columns reached toward the richly painted ceiling. Expansive arches framed breathtaking views of the glistening sea beyond, where the sunlight danced upon the waves like scattered jewels. At the far end of the hall sat the king on his ornate throne, an imposing figure carved from dark mahogany, adorned with gilded accents that gleamed with authority. The king's expression was one of impatience, his brow furrowed, as if he had been anticipating Telemachus’s arrival and was growing weary of waiting.
Telemachus walked across the throne room, stopping at a respectable distance to bow. “King Cesmen,”
"why can't they just be friends" not in the homophobic way but in the "their platonic relationship in the source material is far more dynamic and complex than the sanitized personalities they gain as a result of shipping" way
why is there so much smut on the platform? sometimes i just want to read some fluff or angsty fanfic to pass the time and all i find is a bunch of posts full of dicks and pussies everywhere. fuck, not everything is about fucking is okay
Summary: As the wife of Rome’s future Emperor, your pregnancy is seen as a political weapon, with nobles plotting to control your child before they are even born.
The whispers began the moment you showed the first signs of carrying Lucius’ child.
It was a secret you and your husband had kept for as long as possible, savouring those early months when only he knew when he alone could place his hand against your stomach.
Kusuriya no Hitorigoto | Ep36 | Anyway, I know nothing. Knowing too much is never a good thing. Lord Jinshi is a high-ranking official, and I am merely a servant. Nothing more, nothing less. There’s no need to know unnecessary secrets.
Summary: When the prison falls, your family gets separated. Now it's all about finding each other again... Especially Daryl and your son.
Warnings: the usual TWD stuff, walkers, weapons, angst - a lot, blood, death,
The Road Era!
Word Count: 3,7k
a/n: I forgot that I wrote this story and remebered a few days ago. I thought for a second that I just dreamt writing this, but... Then I checked my docs and there it was. I never posted it, though. This has to change, 'cause I really like this installment of the AU. ☺️
Shadow didn't grow up around Mobian languages of affection, but for you, he learned some.
When you're resting on his chest, he begins grooming your forehead, licking it calmly and tentatively. You're surprised at first, for a while he felt like a human in a hedgehog's body.
He starts purring. He's never allowed himself to purr around you before. Once it slipped out, and he got really embarrassed. But here, with you, he's being himself.
I’m at a sociology conference and just attended a memorial for one of the giants of our field, and one of the panelists told this story…he was at a meeting with this guy, who he got his PhD under and had a long standing relationship with, and he was bemoaning the current state of the world, and he asked this old professor, “how can you be so optimistic? I can’t ever be anything but a pessimist.”
and the old professor said, “you little fucker, I’m going to make a statement and then I’m going to take you out to the parking lot and beat your ass. What good does your pessimism do?”
and that really struck me. not the least because I also knew this old professor and he very rarely swore, so I know this was something he was really worked up about. what good does your pessimism do? What GOOD does your pessimism DO. I’ll be thinking about that for awhile.
“Now there's this about cynicism, Sergeant. It's the universe's most supine moral position. Real comfortable. If nothing can be done, then you're not some kind of shit for not doing it, and you can lie there and stink to yourself in perfect peace.”
- Lois McMaster Bujold, Borders of Infinity (1989)
As a recovered pessimist raised by a horrendously toxic pessimist: No, it doesn't.
Foresight and practicality are completely separate qualities that can exist without pessimism. You can acknowledge the worst that might happen and prepare for it without having a completely negative worldview.
And pessimism can absolutely exist without those qualities. Which is a miserable way to live.
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