#but its not my fault it never was my fault

[sergeantbarnessdoll]

Hot Single Mom » Lance Tucker

Pairings: Lance Tucker x Single Mom!Reader

Summary: Lance has a thing for single moms.

Warnings: Smut (18+), language, alcohol, dirty talk, kissing, hickeys, fingering, female receiving, unprotected sex, praise kink, Lance’s tattoo, pet names

Written on my phone. I’m sorry for any mistakes.

Header made by @buckys-wintersoldier

GIF IS NOT MINE! Credit goes to the creators. I found it on Pinterest.

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!🔞

Lance watched as you sat down on the bar stool next to him, unable to take his eyes off of you. He knows you’re the mom of one of the teenage girls he coaches in gymnastics. You could feel his eyes on you. You turned your attention towards him to see him biting his bottom lip as he admired the way your sundress hugged your curves.

“You know…” You took a sip of your drink. “It’s rude to stare. Didn’t your parents tell you that?” You jokingly say.

“It’s not my fault you’re a smoke show.” Lance says flirtatiously.

You giggled and turned your body so you were facing him. Lance shamelessly glanced down at your cleavage and licked his lips.

“I’m Lance.” He introduces himself, holding his hand out for you to shake.

“I know who you are. You’re my daughter’s gymnastics coach.” You shook his hand. “I’m Lizzy’s mom, Y/N.” You tell him.

“You’re Lizzy’s mom?” Lance asks. “I would’ve guessed you’re her attractive older sister.” He flirts.

“I get that a lot.” You smiled. “I had her at a young age.” You say.

“So…” Lance leans forward. “Are you still with Lizzy’s dad?” He asks curiously.

“Nope.” You popped the P. “He broke up with me when he found out I was pregnant.” You tell him.

Lance nods, taking a sip of his drink and smirking to himself.

“You wanna come up to my room?” He asks, his voice husky.

“Buy me a drink first, Coach and I might let you have your way with me tonight.” You say seductively.

A few shots of tequila later, you two ended up in his hotel room. You two were heatedly making out as you guys bursted through the door. You two pulled away from each other’s lips breathlessly to take off your clothes. You kicked your shoes off and pushed the straps of your sundress off of your shoulders, pushing your sundress down your body and revealing your braless breasts to him. You took off your panties and playfully threw them at him. He caught them and shoved them in the pocket of his jeans. He took off his jacket, dropping it on the floor and kicked his shoes off. He pulled his shirt over his head, throwing it somewhere in the room. He pulled down his jeans and boxers in one go, kicking them to the side. You couldn’t help but lick your lips when you seen his tattoo on his lower abdomen.

Lance kisses you hungrily as he picked you up and dropped you on the bed, hovering over you. He kissed all over your body, marking you up with hickeys in the process. He made his way down your body, spreading your legs and laid on his stomach in between them. He licked a strip on your pussy, catching you off guard. He did it again, earning a moan from you.

“Fuck, you taste incredible.” Lance says, practically moaning against your pussy.

His tongue licked from your entrance to your clit a few times before latching his lips onto your clit and ate you out like you’ve never been eaten out before. You threw your head back against the pillow in pleasure, loving the way his tongue feels against your pussy.

“Oh my god!” You moaned.

Your hands found their way to his head, your fingers tugging on his hair. Lance moans at the feeling, loving you tugging on his hair. His tongue did a flicking motion on your clit while his fingers found their way to your entrance. His fingertips circled your entrance, making your cunt clench around nothing. He slid two fingers in your pussy, moving them at a fast pace. His free hand snaked its way up your body to your breasts. His hand cupped one of your breasts and played with your nipple. A squeak moan left your lips when he pinched your nipple. He moved his hand to your other breast and repeated his actions, earning the same reaction from you.

A loud moan left your lips when he curled his fingers, hitting your sweet spot, making you arch your back in pleasure. Lance smirked to himself, proud that he found your sweet spot with ease. He curled his fingers again, hitting your sweet spot again. Your cunt squeezed around his fingers. Your legs began shaking a little bit and threatened to close on his head. His free hand held one of your legs open so you didn’t try to close them. He quickened his movements with his tongue and fingers, making your orgasm build up faster. You knew you weren’t going to last longer with how fast his tongue and fingers were fucking you. Lance wanted you to cum fast so he can fuck you. He’s desperate to fuck you. You don’t blame him. You’re desperate for him to fuck you too.

“Lance, I’m- oh fuck! I’m gonna cum!” You tell him, followed by a moan.

“Come for me, baby.” Lance says huskily.

Your eyes fluttered shut and you arched your back in pleasure as you came harder than ever, moaning his name loudly. You laid there panting while Lance took his fingers out of your pussy, licking your release off his fingers, moaning at your taste. He sat up, hovering over you. He leaned down and kissed you sloppily. You moaned against his lips when his hard cock bumped your clit. One of your hands wandered down in between the two of you, your fingers tracing his tattoo. Lance pulled away from your lips and looked down, watching your fingers trace his tattoo.

“You like my tattoo, babe?” He asks huskily.

“Mmm, yes I do, Coach.” You hummed, biting your bottom lip. “I wonder what it looks like while you’re fucking me.” You say seductively.

“You’re about to find out, baby girl.” He almost whispers.

You watched him line his cock at your entrance. He slid his cock inside of you, inch by inch. Your eyes nearly rolled to the back of your head. When he was balls deep inside of you, he spread your legs wider. Lance pulled almost all the way out, only leaving his tip in your pussy and thrusted back inside of you with a hard thrust. A loud gasp left your lips. You looked down at where the two of you are connected, watching him thrust his cock in and out of your pussy. Your eyes wandered to his tattoo. You couldn’t help but stare at it as he fucked you.

“So hot.” You say, referring to his tattoo.

Lance chuckles huskily. He leaned over you so he was hovering over you, putting his hand on the bed frame and sped up his thrusts. You bit your bottom lip to muffle your moans to avoid a noise complaint.

“Don’t do that.” Lance’s thumb rubbed across your bottom lip. “Let me heard those pretty moans while I’m fucking you, baby.” He coos huskily.

Lance couldn’t care less about getting a noise complaint and frankly, you didn’t care about getting a noise complaint either. Your teeth released your bottom lip, strings of moans and his name left your lips. He smirks to himself, loving the sound of your moans and the way his name sounds when you moan it. It was like music to his ears.

You wrapped your legs around his waist and locked your ankles behind his back, pulling him closer to you if it’s even possible. Your hands found their way to his back, feeling his back muscles flex every time he thrusted into you. Your nails dug in his skin, creating red lines on his back. Lance hissed slightly at the feeling.

Lance leaned down and put his lips on yours, kissing you sloppily. You two moaned against each other’s lips. You threw your head back, pulling away from the kiss when his cock hit your sweet spot. Your mouth fell open, his name leaving your lips in a moan every time he hit that spot. His lips found their way to your neck, pressing kisses along your skin. A soft gasp left your lips when his teeth nipped on your skin, hard enough to mark you up.

“You know…” Lance starts. “I’ve been thinking about this moment since the day I laid my eyes on you.” He admits.

“Oh yea?” You moaned. “I’ve been thinking about it too, Coach.” You tell him.

You telling Lance you think about him made him want you more. His free hand made its way down to your clit, rubbing it in circles while his other hand left the bed frame and occupied itself with your breasts. Your cunt squeezed around his cock when his fingers applied a little bit of pressure on your clit.

You looked down at his tattoo, getting entranced with it. Your hands left his back. One of your hands went down to his tattoo, your fingers tracing along the ink of it before placing your hand flat on his lower abdomen where his tattoo is just to touch it. Your free hand grasped onto his bicep for something to squeeze.

You looked in his eyes at the same time Lance looked in yours, yours and his eyes clouded with lust. His fingers rubbed faster on your clit to help your orgasm build up which was getting closer. He could tell by the way your cunt was squeezing around his cock. His orgasm was building up too, but he wanted you to cum first.

“Lance, I’m-” A moan left your lips and your head fell back against the pillow before you could finish your sentence.

“Cum for me, baby.” Lance says huskily.

Lance watched your eyes roll to the back of your head as you came on his cock. His fingers gave your clit one last rub before he focused on his own orgasm which wasn’t too far from yours. His thrusts got sloppy for a moment, but he regained his rhythm. A loud curse word left his lips as he came inside of you. He thrusted a few more times before his thrusts came to a stop. He pulled out of you and laid down next to you. You two laid in silence, trying to catch your breath before either of you said anything.

“I’m assuming you have a thing for single moms.” You say, turning your head towards him.

“What gave it away?” Lance asks with a small chuckle.

“The way you fucked me and made me cum twice.” You say, still blown away by the two orgasms he gave you.

“There’s more than where that came from if you’re up for it.” He says, licking his lips.

“I’m up for anything, Coach.” You say, biting your bottom lip.

“Let’s get to it then, baby.” He says, pulling you on top of him, making a small squeal of excitement leave your lips.

🏅🏅🏅🏅🏅🏅🏅🏅🏅🏅🏅🏅🏅🏅🏅🏅🏅

-Bucky’s Doll

[munsonsmixtapes]

Paint Me

Benedict Bridgerton x fem!inexperienced!American!reader

summary: An unfortunate funeral causes you and Benedict come face to face and he is your surprising shoulder to lean on. And after a secret moment in the garden, you become closer than ever before.

taglist: @syraxnyra @turtle-cant-communicate @sublimepenguinpeach-blog

part one part two

February 13, 1817

There was a knock on your door after you had gotten home from the gallery. You had embarrassed yourself enough when you had insulted Benedict's painting and weren't in the mood to speak to anyone, especially not who you knew was on the other side of the door.

You had already felt like a disappointment to your father and you didn't need to hear him tell you as such. But he entered the room anyway and sat on the edge of your bed next to you. He went to wrap his arm around you, but you pulled away, moving closer to the other side.

"I am afraid that I have not been there for you when you needed me most," he went to reach for your hand, but you pulled it away, fully turning your back to him.

"I am afraid that is true and I do not wish to speak to you at this moment."

"Bunny," he went to use his beloved nickname for you which caused you to stand from the bed, turning to face with a kind of anger you didn't even know was possible.

"You do not deserve to call me that. I understand that you are my father, but you were also my best friend. So where have you been?" You asked, your voice getting louder. "Where have you been when your wife, my mother betrayed me? If you love me as much as you claim to, then why have you never defended me when you saw the two of them treating me so horribly? I know why. It is because you are nothing but a coward and I do not wish to speak to you any longer."

With that, your father left the room, leaving you alone again. All of your anger was getting the best of you, everything that had happened throughout your whole life, weighing on you. You went under your bed where you hid away your art supplies and began to sketch, the pressure of your hand pressing the charcoal to the page, causing it to break, both it and the tears that were falling from your eyes, ruining the picture completely.

It seemed that not even your form of therapy was working. The one thing that made you feel better in fact did not. As your anger reached its peak, you threw everything across the room in a loud clatter and changed into your nightgown, getting into your bed, pulling the covers over you and crying until sleep claimed you.

But your sleep did not bring you any rest whatsoever, the only thing happening behind your eyes was your father. You saw his carriage crashing into a tree, the ship he was on going down, him falling off his horse, all leading to his demise.

The guilt was eating at you for the way you spoke to him. Even though everyone was asleep, you couldn’t sleep any longer without apologize for the way you spoke to your father. Whether he accepted it or not didn’t matter. You just needed him to know that you didn’t mean a single word.

You snuck out of your room with every intention of heading to your parents’ room at the end of the hall only to your mother sobbing in the foyer. She was on her hands and knees while Lilith held onto her, rubbing her back while he cried tears of her own.

You approached them, looking around for your father only to not see him, and you expected the worst. It seemed that all of your nightmares were in fact not that, but premonitions.

You felt lightheaded, your vision going hazy as your sister told you what had happened. Augustus had gone for a late night horse ride and had experienced a heart attack, causing him to fall off and pass away right there because there had been no one had been around to give him the proper care nor get him to a hospital.

It was all your fault. Or at least, that was what you were telling yourself. He did, however, die in one of the ways you had dreamed about, so you supposed that you had spoken it into existence.

The next few days, the house was quiet, neither you nor your mother or sister uttering a single word, nothing feeling quite right to say as far as the loss was concerned. The funeral was the next week and the three of you stood together, weeping over your father’s grave.

You were approached by Kate and Anthony who pulled you into a group hug as your cried into their shoulders and they held you for as long as you liked. When you pulled away, you saw Benedict standing behind them, his eyes already on you. For once, the flirty look in his eyes was replaced with a look of sorrow. 

For a second, all of your dislike for him dissipated as he pulled you into his arms, his hands rubbing up and down your back as he whispered nothing but nice things into your ear as you cried into his shoulder. 

Kate and Anthony turned away to give you a private moment and whispered to each other about what was possibly going on between the two of you. Kate thought it was sweet, but Anthony was ready to nip it right in the bud. There was no way that he was letting his brother anywhere near you, not even in a friendly way as  Benedict was unable to be friends with women. He only bedded them and there was absolutely no way that could happen. 

You pulled away from Benedict and he was quick to wipe your tears. You hadn’t seen him that soft and gentle since you had moved back to England and you were happy to have your old Benedict back, even if it was just for a moment. 

Benedict didn’t know what had come over him. He wasn’t sure why, but seeing you so heartbroken broke his own heart. When he saw you sobbing when he got to the graveyard, he swore that he could actually hear his heart crack. Usually, he would only comfort a woman going through a loss for the sole reason of getting her into bed, but this time, that wasn’t even a thought. He just wanted to make sure that you were okay. 

He didn’t leave your side the entire day as everyone followed your family to your house to enjoy a meal together in your father’s honor. He kept his distance out of respect, but he wanted nothing more than to wrap you up in his arms and let you stay there as long as you wanted. He knew how close you were to your father and just how much it had crushed you to lose him. 

As day turned to night, you could feel your cold shoulder towards Benedict start to thaw. You were beginning to think that maybe you were being too hard on him when he had genuinely been trying to right his wrongs with what he had done to you almost a decade ago. You didn’t think that you should have let it hurt you for so long and that the grudge you were holding against him was really only hurting you in the end.

February 20, 1817

As a way to see your artwork, Lady Danbury had one of her friends host another gallery. You had told her that it wasn’t at all necessary, but of course, she didn’t listen to you. She assured you that everyone would love whatever you decided to submit and that they would all be lining up to purchase commissions from you.

You, however, thought it was a bold claim. Sure, you wanted people to see your work, but now you were nervous that none of them were going to appreciate it the way that you did. It was all very personal and you weren't sure that you wanted it hung for everyone to see.

Despite that, you still submitted your most personal piece. A painting of your father that was your own way of honoring him. A way to forgive him for all he had done to you and to let go of all of the guilt you felt for what had happened to him. It was the best form of therapy you could have ever asked for and easily your best work to date.

Benedict's piece had been coming along great as well. For once, he wasn't thinking about every single brush stroke and just went along with it, letting the brush guide him. He was going off of memory since he didn't have a proper photo of his subject, but he thought it was turning out rather well considering.

Instead of going to the studio, he decided to work in the garden, the sunlight being the best thing to point out all his imperfections if there were any. He was not going to have a repeat of what had happened last time. It was far too embarrassing.

"Ah, there you are, brother," Eloise spoke as she approached him.

"Here I am," he replied and was quick to stand in front of the painting so she couldn't see it, but it was too late. She had already seen it. She pushed him out of the way and let out a gasp as the painting before her.

"It that-"

"No," Benedict cut her off, trying to block her view of it again, a shade of pink apparent on his cheeks. Eloise just laughed and pushed him out of the way again, careful not to knock over the easel.

"It is!" She gasped. "It's the l/n girl that Kate and Anthony have befriended!"

"It is not." He didn't know why he was denying it. All the proof was right there.

"You cannot deny it. It seems that you have befriended her as well." Eloise could see the way that her brother looked at you and it seemed like he was attracted to you. She hadn't had many interactions with you, but according to Kate, you seemed like someone who keep Benedict humble and ground him.

"She doesn't like me, Eloise," he shook his head as dipped his brush into a shade that was the color of your skin tone and did some shading where he thought it would look nice.

"Why not? Did you hurt her, because Anthony will certainly-" Oh, Benedict knew exactly what Anthony would do.

"I did," Benedict nodded. "Eight years ago. When her family lived down the road, we painted a lot together in the study while Francesca played the piano, but one night-"

"What did you do, Benedict?" Eloise wasn't sure he wasn't going to say, but what she did know was that she wasn't going to like it.

"She told me-she told me that she loved." Her eyes widened at that and she wasn't surprised that she didn't know that fact because you would have been too scared to admit it to anyone and Benedict just felt horrible about the whole thing and didn't want to revisit it.

"And what did you say?" Considering the fact that you were ten and Benedict was twenty-one at the time, she could assume what had happened.

"The only thing I could. She was a child and I was certainly not interested in her and so I told her as much. Maybe a little too harshly and she ran."

"Benedict," Eloise gasped. So that was why you always paid almost attention to him. All of the dots were finally connecting. Now she was thinking that she liked you even more. That you were the first woman to not fall for her brother’s charms even though you were the exact one who should have. He definitely had a type.

"I know, and now she's here and beautiful and I'm afraid I've fucked it all up." Eloise was wondering what had gotten into him that he had such a defeatist attitude. He was never that way towards the women he was interested in even if they weren’t interested. In fact, that usually only motivated him even more.

"Maybe this might seem like a foreign concept to you, brother, but have you ever thought about apologizing like a normal person?" Benedict actually had thought about that, but he didn't think that was good enough, so that was why he had done the painting of you. He hoped that would help you see just how much he cared for you.

"I think it might be too late for that." He decided that his work was done and started to clean his brushes.

"It's never too late for an apology," she rested a hand on his shoulder and gave is a squeeze, leaving Benedict with much to think about.

February 21, 1817

You sat in the study with one of your books in your hand, but you couldn't focus on it. Your letter letting you know whether or not your artwork was accepted into the gallery was going to be there any second and you were terrified. There was a lot of riding on it and you were very afraid that they hadn't accepted it.

Kate and Anthony had insisted on being there when you got the good new and Kate clutched your hand as a servant entered the room with the envelopes on a silver platter and you reached for yours, feeling like time had stopped as you ripped into the envelope.

You read the first few words of the letter and let it drop to the floor, feeling your body go cold, collapsing into one of the chairs as you accepted defeat. They didn't want your piece. You should have known since they wouldn't have since you were a woman. They hadn't said as much, but you were able to read the lines.

Despite your sadness, you told the couple that you would join them at the gallery and felt horrible that Lady Danbury went through all that trouble for nothing. You didn't want to have to look her in the eyes, but the only worse thing was not going an accepting defeat. You were going to show everyone just how strong you were.

February 25, 1817

Practically everyone was already at the gallery when you had arrived and you felt dread come over you as you accepted that you were going to have no part in it. You had been rejected from many things like that before, so you weren't sure why it hurt so much.

Lady Danbury had approached immediately when you arrived and you really didn't feel like speaking with her but you plastered on your brightest smile, faking like you had interest in the conversation even though you would have much rather been in the study with your paints.

"Ah, there's the artist," she greeted. "You left last time before we were able to talk about your critique of the Bridgerton boy." Normally you would have felt guilty for something, but this time you couldn't have cared less. Benedict Bridgerton could have stood to be knocked down a few pegs and you were really enjoying being the one to do it.

"And I apologize for that. I was just letting my own issues take over." You were only apologizing because you felt like it, not because you meant it.

"No apologies necessary, dear. I loved it. I wish you would speak your mind more often. More people could benefit from hearing your thoughts. Especially ones like Mr. Bridgerton." Lady Danbury didn't mind Benedict, but often times she felt he had a big head and let his ego get in the way.

"I appreciate that, but unfortunately, I don't think that I'm up for it tonight."

"But what am I to think about the artwork without a lovely artist to give her opinions?" There was something odd about the interaction and you couldn't figure out what.

"You do flatter me, Lady Danbury. I suppose I wouldn't mind joining you."

So, you led her around the gallery and told her what you thought about the pieces, promising her to not hold back this time, suddenly not afraid to speak your mind. And Lady Danbury was loving every second of it, very entertained by the shy wallflower coming out of her shell.

She quite liked your company, amused by your little quips that you had come with on the spot. And she appreciated how you felt like you were able to be your true self around her, not the shy person she had met a few weeks ago. You were growing on her and easily becomg one of her favorite debutants of the season.

"Lady Danbury, who do you think your favorite artist is?" You asked as she got to the second to last piece. All this time you had been talking about the pieces in front of you, but you were curious as to what kind of art she liked since you thought a person's favorite artist said a lot about them.

"You." You were surprised to hear her say that considering that she hadn't even seen any of your work.

"Oh, that's very nice, but-"

"No, dear, it's you!" She cut you off and forced you to turn to the piece on the wall. You let out a gasp as your face stared back at you, feeling something very strange coming over you.

You stepped closer to the painting and turned this way and that, convinced that you were looking into a mirror, but you weren't. You could very clearly see the paint strokes when you got close enough. Who the artist was was a mystery. You had absolutely no idea who could have done it and wanted to know their identity and why you had been their subject.

You couldn't stop staring, wanting to reach out to touch it, but you knew you weren't allowed, even if it was your face on the canvas. It was amazing how well they were able to paint your features and you wondered what they had used for reference.

"I hope this isn't too amateur for you," a voice whispered in your ear and you felt a chill go down your spin as their hot breath hit the back of your neck.

You turned around only to be face to face with the seconds eldest Bridgerton brother. You eyed him, wondering why he would have done something like that and what he would have gotten out of it. That had to be the reason why he would have done it...right?

So many questions were swirling around your mind, your main one being how he was able to make the painting so accurate that it felt like you were looking into a mirror without having you sit for it.

"What is this, Benedict?" You pointed to the painting and he just chuckled. You didn't like how much you enjoyed making hearing the sound and wondering how you would have been able to hear it.

"It's you." He was smiling brightly and you wished he had done it more often. The look was just too pretty on him to hide away all the time. You wondered why he always seemed to always look so serious. In the many times you had seen him, he had only smiled when he was with Eloise.

"I'm aware of that...but why?"

"I think the better question is why not."

"How were you able to do it without me sitting for you to paint me?"

"I will answer all of your questions, but right now, we must see the final painting."

He offered you his arm and you grabbed onto it, letting him lead you through the rest of the gallery.

"But this was the last one." 

"Not quite,” he winked and stopped at the last piece, causing you to let out a loud gasp as your own painting was staring back at you. But it had been rejected. How did he get a hold of it and why was it there? The man was confusing you even more by the second. You were convinced that he had just been trying to get you to forgive him just so he could feel better about himself, but now you weren’t so sure. 

You felt tears well up in your eyes as you turned to him. No one had ever done anything that nice for you before. Something so selfless that they only did because they wanted to and not to make themself look good. Maybe he wasn’t the same Benedict that your remembered. Maybe he was finally turning over a new leaf.

Benedict wiped your tears away and even though it was entirely inappropriate, you threw yourself into his arms and he was quick to catch you, almost falling backwards because of how much force you had used to push yourself in his direction. You squeezed each other tight, avoiding the gasps of the people around you. Lady Danbury shooed them away to give the two of you some privacy as you both pulled away. 

Without a word, you pulled Benedict away from the gallery and you both discreetly made your way through the crowd to get outside for some much needed fresh air. You looked out into the garden and couldn’t help but feel like home there.There was something that was so comforting about it that made it seem like you belonged there. You could see yourself there with Benedict right by your side, the two of you facing each other with your own easels as you painted your own portraits of each other. 

You hadn’t thought about him in that way in a long time and wondered where that had come from. Maybe you were overcome with gratitude to him, but that didn’t matter. What did matter was the fact that you couldn’t stop yourself from staring at his pretty lips, wondering what they felt like between yours. And how you could have taken the chance and it would not have been inappropriate.

Without a word, you grabbed him by his coat and pulled him down so that his face was only inches from yours. You pressed your lips to his with so much force that your teeth clinked together and you both were quick to pull away covering your mouths in pain. You couldn’t believe you had done that. That was exactly why you never acted impulsively. It always just ended in embarrassment. 

You just shook your head as you felt your cheeks heat up and turned back to enter the gallery. Benedict wasn’t going to let you get away this time, though. He lost you once and he wasn’t going to let it happen again. And this time, he was actually attracted to you and he was going to let you know just how beautiful he thought you were. 

He grabbed onto your arm just as you were going to open the door and turned you around to face him. His hazel eyes bored into yours as he grabbed onto your chin, lifting it as he bent down. He slotted his lips between yours and you tried to move along with him, mimicking his actions exactly even though you had absolutely not fucking clue what you were doing. 

Your hands moved to his face and pulled him closer to you so you had more access to his mouth, becoming addicted to the feeling of his lips on yours. You had only gotten a little taste, but already wanted to do that exact thing for the rest of your life. Benedict pulled away to let the both of you breathe, but quickly dove in for more as he grabbed onto your waist and pushed you against the pillar that was behind you. You let him lead, taking exactly what he wanted from you as you were pliant under his touch. 

He pushed your mouth open as he slid his tongue inside, letting it swirl around your own and a sound escaped your mouth that Benedict definitely needed to hear again. And the fact that what you were doing was considered wrong only made him love it more. He continued to kiss you like his life depended on it as his hand moved up to your breast, massaging it the best he could over your dress as you let out another moan, this one louder. You pulled away as you felt a weird sensation between your legs, a lot of wetness collecting there. You began to panic as you pushed Benedict away, embarrassed about what was happening. 

“I had a great time tonight, Mr. Bridgerton, but now I must go.” You curtsied and then rushed inside, gathering your dress in your hands as you did so. 

You made a beeline for the restroom and locked yourself inside it before grabbing the nearest towel-like fabric and pulled up your dress before wiping. You pulled the towel away not to find blood like you were expecting but found that whatever was between your legs was almost clear. You were convinced that there was something wrong with you, having never seen anything like that before. 

While you were panicking in the restroom, Benedict was pacing in the garden, debating running after you even though he was sure that you had already left. Had he made you uncomfortable? That must have been it because you looked so scared. He had taken advantage of you and now he was going to beat himself up over it. Not reciprocating your feelings when you were a child was one thing, but taking advantage of you was another and now he had ruined his chances with you because he was selfish. He didn’t think that another painting was going to fix it either. Perhaps it was time to finally let you go for good and let you find a man who was actually worthy enough. A man that was actually able to keep you.

[igetnosleep]

Comfort

My attempt at a Leon Kennedy x reader fluff angst fic I hope people like it??? give me some pointers if you can I'd really like to hear people's thoughts on this (I imagined Rookie Leon and Vendetta Leon for this one)

Leon couldn’t stand the thought of losing you, of seeing you go and leaving him, vivid nightmares that stuck with him since that night in raccoon city, that hope of starting a new life, went up in flames as he had to survive a city that was practically falling apart around him. 

He met you in the police station. He had his gun up hearing a noise around the corner only to narrowly dodge a pipe being swung aimed for his head. Leon found you there standing fearfully holding a pipe in your hands. 

“Hey it’s okay.” He put his gun back into its holster and held his hands up. Maybe it was the smell of desperation or the hope that you would put your weapon down but you relaxed somewhat at the sight of him. “You’re normal?” You had asked with a distrustful look in your eyes. He nodded “I just got here.”

He watched as that hope died in your eyes and you rubbed your face “You’ve got to be shitting me.” He tried not to take it personally. “None taken.” he muttered.

You had ended up in the police station during the outbreak and now sat next to him holding your throbbing head in frustration “It was insane my friend was just normal then some crazy fuckhead bit her then all of a sudden everyone started going batshit insane!” as you vented he couldn’t help but take a hold of your hand mostly to make sure you wouldn’t start swinging the pipe all willy nilly but you seemed surprised that it managed to shut you up.

You just stared at him like he just told you a weirdly personal fact about himself. “What?” he questioned “Nothing just…I’m not used to that.” He prodded your reaction when he squeezed your hand and you didn’t pull away. He was glad at least he could hold your hand.

You did look cute in your own right maybe because you look like you hadn’t hit a growth spurt since your junior year of high school and now you are left at a head smaller than him. It made him feel a bit better about himself. 

Finding a way out of the police station and hearing you complain about “Stupid puzzles” made him think you weren’t the brightest person out there. “It’s not my fault.” you would argue “I like mysteries, I just don’t have the patience for puzzles.” 

He smiled and took your hand. 

You both came out different. Him too broken and paranoid and you clingy and fearful the both of you always looking over your shoulder. He wanted to keep you safe.

September 30, 1998. The day he’d never forget. 

The day his life went to hell.

The day he met you.

Waking up in bed always felt welcomed and safe.

What he’d do to keep it that way maybe burn the world down but that would ruin how you’d see him. The endless amount of booze and his need for your comfort was almost pathetic you’d told him yourself. 

He didn’t want to give it up.

The nightmares become fuzzed out from the burn of the liquor in his throat. He could take his anger out on you and you and your endless patience would always step barefoot on broken beer bottles just to hold his face in your hands staring at him like you would at a useless object that you would keep for the sake of keeping it.

He’d always apologize “‘m sorry.” he’d murmur into your neck while hiding away from the peeking sunlight, “I know.” you’d say in a small voice holding onto him and kissing his cheek. Then would come the usual talk.

“You need to quit.” 

“I know.” “I mean it Leon.” Leon, not Le or Leo. Leon. You were using his government name.

He couldn’t be mad at you. This was coming from a place of love. He sighed, kissing your cheek watching as you crinkle your nose at the smell of booze in his breath “I know you do, sweetheart.” He watched you pout and sigh feeling you stroke his cheek feeling the stubble on face.

Leon could remember how you were when he first saw you. Ready to swing at the first sign of danger. Ready to tug at his arm and point the other direction “It’s a shortcut!” or “No, we're going this way.” you’d say. If he’d protest you’d tap your foot impatiently until he relented.

You do the same thing waiting for him to stop looking at the clothes at a Walmart store. You’d huff in an exasperated voice “You don’t need another shirt, Le, you’ve got dozens!” you were right but you liked to use them.

“Think I need to shave?” he asked, a small smile playing on his lips as your thumb traces over his bottom lip. “No.” You seemed to shuffle closer despite the smell of liquor in his breath, you kissed him softly. “I like it.”

Leon felt himself melt in your arms breathing in the smell of the soap you used. He kissed your shoulder squeezing you closer. “I have work, you know?” “No you don’t.” he denied you that freedom for now you were his in this warm bed. You weren’t going anywhere. He’d tie you up if he had to.

You didn’t seem to fight it, only playfully rolling your eyes and snuggled closer burying your face into the crook of his neck.

Maybe he would give up drinking for you. You were worth everything and more to him.

He didn’t want you to sit there and watch him waste away.

The DSO and the government hurt him more times than he can count making him work through every bit of hurt that made him turn to the bottle and shout at you more times than you could handle.

Yet here you were gaze always on him soft and too understanding, holding his hand like your life depended on it because it did.

You needed him more than you wanted to admit. You couldn’t leave him. He was every bit of ugly and hurt like you were having been through hell and understood what he went through. 

Many nights spent holding on to one another amidst the nightmares, the ones that had you waking up in cold sweat, breathing heavily like you’d just run a marathon, and chugging a bottle of water like you’d never had water before in your life, he was there. 

Placing a kiss on your forehead, moving the hair out of your face and rubbing soothing circles on your back.

There to stay.

[sequinsnstars]

okokok i have finally thought of something!!! it might be a shit idea bc it's just super self indulgent 🙃 but kareoke night at camp jupiter??? idk how u might incorporate jason grace x reader (but tbh u don't have to make it romantic idm) i have no ideas this is as far as my creativity goes 🫠🫠 anyways don't feel pressured to do this!!!! i just wanted to send in something for u 😚😚😚 love u mwah 💞💞💞💞

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ working late, cause i’m a singer ݁˖ ⊹ ‧₊˚

JASON GRACE .ᐟ

ingredients; jason grace and karaoke night

fyi; fem reader, reader is shorter than jason, hyperspecific outfit description LOL, demigods can use technology, jason is not praetor and is working on finding out who he really is bc he deserves it :) also if i had a nickel for every time i wrote a jason fic with something getting ruined because of liquid spillage, i’d have two nickels, which isn’t a lot, but it’s weird that it happened twice

notes; HANNAH MY LOVE HELLO! welcome back from ur break xx and i hope u like this one!! haven’t responded to notifs yet but i’m gonna log off for a while after posting this and check them when i come back 💘

wc; 1003 bc i cannot make these blurbs short for the life of me

food mood; cherry kool-aid. with triple the amount of sugar, just how a certain centurion likes it.

Karaoke night at Camp Jupiter was unexpected.

It didn’t fit their whole honoring-the-gods and following-the-rules vibe. So you weren’t really expecting anything at all when you came to the woods beyond the Field of Mars. You’d only heard about karaoke night from not-so-hushed whispers during training sessions. Michael Kahale and some of his cohort members had been talking about a meetup this evening, and when they’d left for sword fighting, you’d decided you wanted to join them – purely by coincidence, of course, and obviously not to eavesdrop.

Obviously.

Apparently, karaoke night was an annual event without any official promotion, but if anyone got to hear about it, they could come. After learning this from Michael, you told your boyfriend Jason, who’d actually never learned about the get-together but seemed willing enough to join you. You’d been dating him for a while, but you could never get over how open he was to doing something if he was doing it with you. He hadn’t shown up yet, but you didn’t think too much of it.

It seemed fun enough when you got there: some of the Apollo campers were singing “Espresso” by Sabrina Carpenter and effortlessly hitting the high notes in the last chorus. Everything was fine and dandy, and you were even planning to go to the front to sing a song yourself! You spotted Piper requesting “Naked in Manhattan” by Chappell Roan, and even Praetor Zhang asking for “Talk” by beabadoobee.

That feeling of initial contentment lasted approximately one minute, until Dakota, the centurion of the Fifth Cohort, decided to try and balance a cup filled with cherry Kool-Aid on his head while walking in your general direction. Naturally, this was a disaster, and by the time the cup fell, you were the unfortunate recipient of its mess. Your white babydoll dress was now soaked in the dark red concoction.

“Oh my gods, sorry about that,” Dakota slurred. “If you want new clothes, I can get you new clothes, we centurions always have backups for when we need them– uh, are you okay?”

You were speechless, mouth agape.

It took everything in you to not get annoyed with him, but you knew it wasn’t really his fault, so you let him off with a passive-aggressive It’s fine, just be careful next time. Plus, centurion’s extra clothes didn’t sound like they would be a cute outfit.

You didn’t want the spillage to affect the rest of your night too much, so you decided to head over to where you entered, willing Jason to come so you both could go onstage together (would it be too much to hope for him bringing along a warm, cozy jacket to cover your dress stains?).

Shivering, you watched the glowing full moon, surrounded by wispy clouds. Its light shined so bright that the clouds matched its color, making it seem as if there was too much moonwater inside that couldn’t help but overflow. You were reminded of the time you stayed up late with Jason to watch a meteor shower. The moon had illuminated his face wonderfully, making him look like he was unreal; from another planet.

Suddenly, you felt a tap on your shoulder.

“I’m so sorry I came late, angel, I ran into an injured sparrow on the way here so I took her to the infirmary–”

You turned around to see your boyfriend, dressed in a dark green leather jacket and light blue jeans, paired with white Converse and his Imperial gold glasses.

Jason’s expression dropped immediately after seeing your dress. “What the fuck happened here?” He dropped to his knees in front of you and held your hands in his, examining the stains.

You sighed. “It’s nothing. Dakota spilled cherry Kool-Aid on me, which is sad, but–”

“Thank the gods.”

Frowning, you replied, “What? I don’t think… oh.”

Jason stood up and chuckled. “Yeah, I thought there was something else on your dress. Don’t worry about it, you look as beautiful as ever. I promise.”

Your cheeks grew warm. Really, this man knew how to make a girl feel special. “Well, that’s very sweet of you to say. And thank you for being worried about me.” You got on your toes and kissed his jaw, not missing how the tips of his ears turned a little pink.

“Always, angel. Ready to head to karaoke night?” asked Jason, a little breathlessly.

You looked out at the Field of Mars. “Actually, do you want to maybe, like, have our own little karaoke night? There’s an extra speaker and microphone over there and no one’s on the field right now. Only if you want, of course–”

His smile grew as you spoke. “Um, spending alone time with the love of my life? Always.” He paused a little before adding, “The Field of Mars has always been, I don’t know, a kind of stressful place for me?” Jason cupped his hand over the nape of his neck. “But I think maybe just singing songs with you here, being a normal couple, can help with the way I view it. Honestly, I feel like you being here with me at Camp Jupiter has made a big difference by itself.”

You gently put your hands to his cheeks and brought your forehead to his. 

“Jason,” you whispered. “I don’t even have words for how meaningful that is to me. You’re my favorite person in the whole world, demigod and mortals included. I love you.”

“I love you most, princess.” He brought your lips to his, and you allowed yourself to fall right into his warm, soft touch – a dream you never wanted to wake up from.

When you both drew away, you grinned and said, “Okay, so we have to start with ‘Close To You.’ We just have to.”

“Agreed.”

Your boyfriend grabbed the mic and speaker and pulled up the karaoke audio. As he pressed play, you couldn’t help but think how lucky you were to be close to the gorgeous blonde lover boy that was Jason Grace.

hope you enjoyed the meal!

thank you for your order and your waitress siara hopes you come again soon 💌

[saturnniidae]

HTTYD 2 is ten years old today, it was my first exposure to the franchise and despite its many glaring flaws i can't help but love it and hold it so close to my heart.

This scene is a great example of why.

I love it so much. It's a heart-wrenchingly beautiful reminder that as good as he is, Hiccup is not some perfect hero. He is still just a person, a flawed human being who has cracked under the pressure of his circumstances and is barely given time to grieve his fathers' death.

(I adore scenes like this — It humanizes characters so much more, and just adds to that layer of perceived realism.)

And you can see the regret on his face as soon as he says it. But in that moment he doesn't do anything about it; he's still processing Stoick's death, and he only snaps out of it when he sees Toothless is under the Bewilderbeast's control again and Valka has to hold him back from attempting to go after him.

What he said and did to Toothless there was a momentary lapse in judgment fueled by grief. And later, as he breaks Toothless out of the Alpha's control, you can see he feels terrible about it. About how, even if it was brief, he pushed away his best friend. And he loves Toothless so much.

The way he talks to him literally breaks me every time I rewatch it.

"It wasn't your fault, you'd never hurt him, you'd never hurt me."

"Please, you... are my best friend, bud. My best friend."

And when Toothless comes back he just looks so elated to see Hiccup.

Though, Something that's even crazier to me is the fact all this takes place over less than a week. Once he gets toothless back and Drago is defeated, he is immediately made chief. And with the state berk is in, he is given presumably no time to properly mourn Stoick, or to fully adjust to the presence of his mother.

(though I feel his and Valka's relationship will never be what it could've been. He knows she chose not to come back, and that is a blow to their newly formed and fragile bond that, as much as they love each other, is not something she can ever fully make up for.)

But at least through everything, since the beginning, the one real constant he's had has been Toothless.

They're friendship was built off a mutual feeling of out-of-placeness, then unconditional trust and unwavering loyalty.

they love each other so much it makes me wanna throw up

[rhq274]

Hello, let me introduce you my uncle, Ihab. He is my great uncle. He is an airline captain who graduated from Egypt and Turkey and returned to work here at Gaza International Airport, but the occupation destroyed him in 2000 and destroyed his dreams with it. He became an unemployed citizen ever since. He married and started a family. He loves his children very much. Rather, he adores them. I have never seen a father so caring in my life, who would do anything for his children, even if he died for them, and this is what happened 💔💔💔, as a Gazan citizen trying to protect himself and his family, who had moved during the war to a shelter affiliated with UNRWA, They endure crowding, pollution, and problems in search of safety. There, like us, they live on canned goods.

His daughter asked him for real food because her stomach was tired of canned food, so he went home on foot to cook for his children and come back [he went there after the occupation army officially announced its withdrawal from the area], but what happened? The planes spotted him, so they dropped two barrels of explosives on the house. Is this reasonable? is this normal ? Two barrels of explosives to kill an unarmed civilian who came to cook for his hungry children !!!!! He was not turned into pieces, he was not killed at the same moment, he was hit in the head and sat bleeding, but he held on to life! He walked to get out of the rubble so that someone would notice him or save him. His feet could not carry him, so he began crawling, leaving a path of blood behind him, until our relatives found him, notified us, and took him to Al-Aqsa Martyrs Hospital, the hospital located in the Central Governorate, and the only one in the Gaza Strip currently after he was killed. The occupation destroyed all hospitals according to its multiple policy of annihilating us. There was no room for him. The hospital was full of martyrs and wounded. He bled for 40 minutes on the way to the hospital because there were no other hospitals. Then he lost consciousness and bled more and more while waiting. After they admitted him to intensive care, he died. We went to say goodbye to him. His body was swollen. And inflated [because it was not placed in the morgue because there was no room for all this number of dead],His eyes were out of place due to the terrible pressure his body was exposed to during the explosion. I will never forget this picture in my life. They destroyed the picture of my kind, beloved uncle. He treated me like a princess since I was their first granddaughter. He would get down on his knees, kiss my hand, carry me, and wrap me around the whole place. Even after I turned twenty, they deprived me of it. My heart is breaking. Enough loss, enough blood, enough deaths. We are tired. I swear we are tired. How many deaths must we reach for all of this to stop? The number of corpses that arrived at the hospital has exceeded 37,000, while the original number has exceeded 50,000 who are under the rubble or whose bodies are in the streets.Or in mass graves underground, or their bodies have decomposed due to the deadly weapons they use, or the bodies have become part of the port that America made with the remains of the rubble of houses. They moved to remove the rubble to make a port to take out the Zionist prisoners, but they did not move to remove the bodies from under the rubble. The bodies did not die at the same moment. The bodies were alive for hours or days, eventually dying from bleeding, lack of oxygen, hunger, or even the idea of ​​inevitable death. Is this life? Do we deserve all this? What is our fault, O Allah ? What is our fault?

My mother is taking care of my cousin’s children now. Her heart breaks for her big brother. She cries all day long and I can’t bear to see her like this. My heart hearts , but I must hold on tight for her sake. If you want to help, you can visit the following link, or try to spread it as much as possible.

You are our only hope.

@el-shab-hussein @nabulsi

@fairuzfan @sar-soor

[queerweewoo]

“Eddie, you do know that I'm—that I'm yours, right?” Buck's eyes are holding Eddie's gaze like the fate of the world is suddenly at stake. “I mean, I'm yours for whatever you want, y’know? ‘Cause there is nobody else in my life that is... that's you, as in what you are to me, for me, and I'm—I just want you to know that I wanna be that person for you, too; need you to know that I am that person, and that I can be whatever else it is you might need me to be. Or maybe want me to be.” Eddie feels like all the oxygen has suddenly been sucked right out of his kitchen. “You—you get that, don't you, Eds?” 

Christopher once wondered out loud about which beast from the animal kingdom, other than human, would represent each of the three of them and their different personalities, and when Eddie had thought about Buck he'd pictured excitable Golden Retrievers and bounding Dalmatian puppies just as much as the next guy. But the proxy creature he'd been more sure of—and more hesitant to admit likening Buck to—was the Hummingbird, with its astonishingly strong heart that beats at something like nine-hundred times per minute (which Eddie knows about because Buck told him, of course).

Eddie has never known anybody quite like Evan Buckley, with his supercharged and forever-bleeding heart that's pinned so earnestly and so prominently to his shirt sleeve that Eddie's sure it's sometimes visible to the naked eye.

Bar his son, Buck is the greatest person Eddie's ever met.

They weren't always what they are now, though, Buck and him. Not back at the very start. But somehow, one day, somewhere along the line, they just—were.

They became Eddie and Buck. Buck and Eddie.

And this… something, that's simmering between them, it's a thing Eddie couldn't put his finger on for the longest time, couldn't quite make out whenever he attempted to look at it, trying to parse it out and see it for what it really was. It's an emotion he hadn't thought he'd be able to describe, even if he'd wanted to. A brand new feeling for Eddie's collection that he felt forming in the space behind his ribcage, something that bursts forth whenever Eddie looks over to Buck on the job, or at weekends when they take Christopher for days out at the park or the zoo, or whenever Eddie thinks about Buck when Buck's not around. Buck: this long-legged, loyal to a fault smiling guy who has become the best friend Eddie has ever had. Hell, he just feels it all the time. Invisible yet almost tangible, this unnamed something first sprouted like a sapling the day the two of them dug a live fragmentation grenade out of that retired third-grade teacher's thigh, springing up and growing branches that get bigger every day, reaching outward towards the sun to bathe in its warm rays, seeking out life. It grew within Eddie, and it's still growing, spreading out through every part of his life, now, not with the speed or ferocity of a wildfire but a thing similar to climbing roses; slow and steady, delicate yet hardy and strong.

Its true nature has always been just a little to the left of Eddie's range of understanding, though, an almost ethereal thing just slightly out of his reach. For a while, he hadn't dared to examine it all that carefully, or at all. Hadn't known how to, honestly. He now thinks that talking to Frank and embarking on his journey to figure out Who Am I?—trying to find out who Edmundo Diaz is as a person—was probably the start of him working out what this ever-expanding something between him and Buck actually is. 

Eddie came to the conclusion pretty quickly after that, that Evan Buckley, this kind-hearted, wide open, supremely loving giant puppy dog of a person with the heart of a Hummingbird, has become his person. Before Eddie even had the opportunity to notice that their relationship had started to change and morph into something different than what it was at the start, Buck had simply become his partner. In all ways, seemingly. Not just at work, but in life. And Eddie—well. Eddie realised at some point that he was somehow, amazingly, now apparently one hundred percent Buck's person, too. 

The only other soul Eddie has ever gotten close to in that way was Shannon, and sadly everything about their relationship had been so profoundly situational. Eddie thought he'd needed a girlfriend in high school, and Shannon was so, so lovely and had wanted to be that person for Eddie. Then Christopher had unexpectedly come along when they were both still so young, and they'd got married because that was the right thing to do, what Eddie thought he was supposed to do. He then ran away scared, by enlisting, and his life ended up spinning out of control and heading someplace he wasn't old enough to have even imagined, a life he'd somehow acquired and felt he had zero control over.

Not that he'd change any of it. There was happiness in the love he and Shannon had for each other, even if it hadn't quite been the right kind of love, and they'd made a beautiful baby together, a beautiful boy. And after coming home to Christopher after his last tour, at long last, Eddie knew he wouldn't, couldn't, be without that kid ever again.

Christopher was and is the one true shining light in Eddie Diaz's messed up life. 

Until Buck. 

Eddie and Buck, they have chosen each other as partners. And as parents, too—that's the truth of it. And they've gotten so close to each other in such a quiet, gentle way that Eddie hadn't been able to see the wood for the trees, it seems, hadn't realised their dynamic had shifted quite as significantly as it has over the years. Infinitesimally, then bit by bit, but so vastly and so dramatically at the same time.

He and Buck are together. All of the time. Because they choose to be. Because it just feels so damn right for them to be that way.  Together, they are what Eddie believes partners are supposed to be.

At some point it had dawned on Eddie that the two of them, he and Buck, had moved beyond just friends and into… that something. Something else. It had just happened so softly and so seamlessly, and with such unprecedented ease, that even after he'd clocked it, he hadn't really thought to question it because it happily became a thing that just was.

Yeah, Buck and Eddie just kind of... are.

Eddie also doesn't know when exactly it was that their increasingly frequent touches became softer, lingering things, warm and comforting and different to the way either of them touches anybody else. Buck has been Eddie's person for what feels like forever, but Eddie started to find more recently that this thing in his chest that is constantly reaching out for Buck, this bond, this something special that they share, it was becoming something that pines and wants and needs, something fragile but at the same time so amazingly and unerringly steadfast.

Like the Hummingbird.

They're an immovable thing, Eddie and Buck. They're Buck and Eddie. They're Eddie and Christopher and Buck. And the three of them, together, are the one thing in Eddie's life that is so assuredly grounding, and so real, that Eddie often feels his chest might burst right open with the force of it.

Together, they've become more.

Eddie has learned that when you find your way to that person, your person, the one who makes you feel like even when everything really isn't okay, having that feeling is okay as long as they are here, with you. It's an unwavering thing. An absolute thing. 

The real thing. 

Eddie looks across his kitchen table at Buck, his Buck, right here and right now, and realises that this something between them is the thing that all those poets throughout the ages have been writing their sonnets about. 

Sunshine. Wildfire. Climbing roses. 

This something—this person, Eddie's person, Eddie's Buck—is standing in front of Eddie wearing his Hummingbird heart on his sleeve and offering Eddie a share in his world.

This something; it's a thing called love. 

Maybe Eddie got there first. Maybe Buck did. Maybe it dawned on them both at the same time, but Eddie knows that they both know it now, he knows it with the way all of Buck's love is radiating out of his body and flowing into Eddie's, like a shared life-force or magic or some cosmic shit Eddie knows he doesn't really need to comprehend. 

I'm yours, Buck told him moments ago.

Eddie takes a breath, and begins.

“I'm yours, too, Buck. All yours. It's you and me, man. Together. You and me and Christopher, because I know just how much you love him...” and he doesn't dare add what is the hopefully implied ‘too’ at the end of his declaration, but only because he doesn't know how to say it out loud, just yet. 

Until he very much does, barely a second into Buck nodding and beaming like Texas sunshine and saying, “You do get it,” and Eddie knows absolutely that he can say it, now.

So he does.

“Yeah, Buck. I do. Because I love you, mi Colibrí. I love you.”

Buck surges, becoming that wildfire as he rounds Eddie's kitchen table, their table, and Eddie stands to meet him, his Buck, his unstoppable force, his best friend, his heart, and Eddie's chair is clattering to the floor as they grab onto each other, big handfuls of shirts and arms and faces and napes of necks, gripping tightly and hanging on for dear life because maybe the fate of the world, their world, really is at stake after all. 

Yet stood here in Eddie's kitchen, together, holding each other, Eddie somehow knows they both understand that their world can't actually be tipped on its axis so easily, not by injuries or natural disasters or even The Great Unknown. Buck and Eddie can't be shaken so hard they come apart at their seams because like everything else in their lives, they're in this together.

Eddie and Buck, Buck and Eddie. They'll figure this thing out.

Together. 

Buck is standing so close that Eddie can feel warm breath on his cheeks, a definite panting that mirrors Eddie's, both their chests now heaving with the air that's crackling between them, eyes roaming all over each other's faces and then Buck's baby blue's settle on Eddie's mouth and Eddie's follow suit, and he's amazed at just how pink Buck's lips are this close up and all he can comprehend in this moment is that he doesn't think he's ever wanted a person so much in his entire fucking life, has never felt the pull of want and need and home as strongly as he does right here and right now, for his best friend. His partner. His Colibrí. 

His Buck.

“Buck, I want—” Eddie's yearning is so loud he can't even finish his sentence. 

“Me too,” Buck helps, and he's leaning in a little further, tentatively and so damn slowly that Eddie wants to scream at him to get on with it but also wants to freeze-frame them in amber because this is the moment that he knows, really knows; the moment Eddie has been trying to uncover; the rose bush and its branches, the fire, the sunshine; the moment Eddie finally understands what it is that he feels for this man now in his arms, knows exactly what their something is and what it was all along; the moment Eddie has been unknowingly and unbelievably hoping, hoping, hoping would arrive someday.

Today, Eddie thinks, and he can't wait any longer so he kisses Buck and Buck kisses him back and Eddie knows, then, inherently, that Buck loves him, too. 

[END]

AUTHOR'S NOTES:

inspired by and a tribute to one of the loveliest fics i've ever read: OF HUSHED WORDS AND HUMMINGBIRDS by the hugely talented procannibals on ao3... you should absolutely click the link to go read it and show it all the love it deserves! btw the themes of hummingbirds as a metaphor, plus eddie's question of 'who am i?` here belong entirely to mo (procannibals) and the fic linked that i've just mentioned.

this is also on ao3 HERE (published as 'Today') if you'd like to be so kind to pop across there and leave me a comment xp

[sillybruja]

roasting your moon sign pt 1. (Aries - Gemini) p.s. this one's gonna hurt your wittle feelings 🥲

Aries Moon

OH MY GOD. SHUUUUUUT UPPP. Seriously, you don't have an off button and talking to you is very frustrating. It's kind of like you jut like hearing yourself talk, which is fine, but the rest of us are suffering. And Holy lack of emotional regulation! When you are upset, you are really upset, eh? Seriously, you cannot control your emotional reactions even if you tried your hardest. If you feel triggered, you have to let the whole room hear about it 🙄And one more thing -- why do you think speaking louder makes your argument valid? It's kind of like listening to a toddler start screaming because crying was not getting their mom's attention good enough. It's fine to have emotional outbursts once in a while, but try to remember you're an adult, not a six-year-old. Communication takes more than scream-crying until you are heard / get your way. Btw, y'all are some of the most delulu people out there! It's like, everyday is a rollercoaster for you emotionally and you kidnapped the rest of us to have to suffer with you. Yeah, that's right, you can be insufferable and the people around you feel it. Are you even aware of that, though? Or are you more focused on creating a narrative that makes you the victim? Your lack of impulse control is a whole other thing. We get that you react first and think last, but to have the audacity to blame others for your decisions/actions is wild. Oh you punched a wall? No, that person didn't make you do that, you did that. Oh, you're insecure so you acted out of character? No actually, it's not their fault because they are secure with themselves. It's all on you. Guess what? Accountability is not the same as being held at g*npoint. You will not die. You will not wither away. You are actually wrong a lot and that's fine, but you don't have to be such a tool about taking responsibility. It gives everyone in your life the ick, and people are probably tired of walking on egg shells around you. 🤷‍♀️

Moon in 1st House:

Okay, drama Queen/King!🙄😅Besides the fact that you literally wear your heart on your sleeve, you are also so dramatic and for what, special effect? Seriously, you emotionally respond to things with the same voracity and urgency as you would an actual emergency. You can literally stub your toe and have a meltdown over it, saying that was your "13th reason" likeee y'all are D R A M A T IC and because I also have this placement, I know it's because it actually feels really dramatic but tbh it's not that deep. You just feel too deeply which is fine but guess what? You're still responsible for your emotions, no one else is. You sacrifice your power too often looking for acceptance and love, and then expect the people who you give said power, to reciprocate the same energy but they never do because what you are really expecting from them is you and that's pretty messed up tbh. You gotta let people be! your attachment issues are showing. BTW, being the sacrificial lamb in every situation does not actually gain you aura points, it just makes it obvious that you lack boundaries. The People around you take advantage of you because 9/10 times, you have made it pretty clear very early on that taking advantage of your kindness can be easy to do. Its insane that people have projected on you your whole life, and yet, you still can't detect when its happening. People are not mean to you because they hate you lol but the fact that you make everything about yourself makes it even easier for these people to project their problems onto you. Why wouldn't they? You are all consuming, and you take on the responsibility of everyone's actions, making yourself a stomping ground for ab*se. Your problem is, you are looking to find you in everyone and you will constantly be disappointed because that's something you will not find. Learn to be comfortable with others showing you how they feel, and accept it for what it is instead of for what you want it to be. Your scope of other's emotions needs work -- there's a whole universe outside of your own mind. You gotta learn to consider others emotional needs and try to walk in the shoes of other people once in a while and you will see that not everything is not in relation, caused by, or about you. Also, you have the same emotional regulation as a toddler sometimes. Stop making your problems, everyone's problems. Go to therapy.

Taurus Moon

OKAAAAAY, SLOTH. How do you expect to have the rich bitch bougee life you keep creating pinterest boards about if you won't even get off the couch and take small steps to reach those goals? Queen of "manifestation", all things "come to me naturally". Can we cut the bs and call a spade, a spade? You are lazy. You know deep deep down that you have the gift of the moon as your placement's exalted, but you have proven so many times that you prefer comfort over work. You're sitting there, waiting for the universe to deliver all the things you want in life, but your uninspired, bland, lazy ass won't even break a sweat for half of what you want in this world. YOU are the reason you do not seem to accomplish as much as you want to, because you do not challenge yourself. Do you feel incapable? I would if I'd rather live in repetitive and tired routines instead of challenging myself to grow. Speaking of growth.... do you even know what that is? Or are you still holding the same opinions of people that you had in middle school? Guess what, people grow and change... it is time to catch up! Why are you more comfortable with clinging onto the past, especially onto an old way of thinking? How is that actively helping your life? Be so for real. You cling & obsess over the past because its easier to revictimize yourself & build resentment than it is to take responsibility and make changes. Why is it more comfortable being stubbornly wrong, instead of owning up to your ways?

Moon in 2nd House

STAY OUT OF MY WALLET & GET A JOB! Seriously -- for someone who needs & craves financial stability, you sure will do a whole lot of nothing to get it. It's so weird because you manage to do absolutely nothing, and the people around you end up picking up your tab. What's it like being the community leech? And another thing... why is it that you feel you only have value when the 'yes men' around you over compliment you, or give you attention? Why is it that you cannot regulate your sense of self worth, but instead need to feed your self-esteem through manipulation, clinginess, and insecurity? Your relationships are probably prone to being unstable because of this. You are too much. Your expectations are too much, and they do not even match what you are willing to give back. You can't expect other people to pour from an empty cup just because You can't seem to fill your own. Your erratic self-esteem issues have an impact on your closest loved ones but your mindset is in the gutter because of how harshly you cling onto old mindsets and negative beliefs. Your greediness is not justified, no matter how much you have been hurt. You seem to never take your pain out in a healthy way, or on the person who actually inflicted the pain. If people come too close, you automatically assume there's alternative motives, even if there's no reason to think that. You act more like an 8H moon in your lowest vibration, and ironically enough, you are "triggered" and angry with other people who act this way. Your self-awareness is probably is as little as your confidence because you seem to live in your own bubble, and cannot understand how your own projections you put on other people are hurtful and make you look very weak. Your people pleasing tendencies will never grant you the stability you seek and until you take accountability, responsibility, and action to secure the life/lifestyle you want for yourself, you will always think shrinking yourself through people pleasing equals safety. But ya know, BE DELULU.

Gemini Moon

OHMYGOD CAN YOU SHUTTHEFUCKUP?! Yes, your friends do think you are annoying as fuck. It's because you never know when to STFU. And the worst part? It's not like you don't know you talk a lot... you do. you know you can dominate a conversation like no other. You are aware of the snotty asshole you sound like when you articulate and use word play to your advantage, and you don't care lol. If you're not that person, you're the opposite - you're weird af, you still never shut up, you have weird af obsessions, collections, and stories, and chances are you're easily forgotten about 😅 You share random facts with your friends all the time and at first it was really funny but because you never know when to stop, your friends are over it. When you talk, they sigh. It's because being your friend is exhausting. It's always the GEMINI MOON SHOW!!!! and you never give them (or anyone) the space to express themselves. You think you know what everyone wants and because you are lowkey controlling, you make decisions for others -- can you be any fuckin' worse? No wonder people don't really like hanging out with you lol. By the way, you are so dense. For being a mercury ruled moon, you would think you'd be better at reading people and yet, you constantly miss the red flags in others. What's it like being a door mat? It's like you know they hurt you, you know they are sus, and you don't care. LOL btw y'all are really big cry babies and so sensitive sometimes. You'd think that being a gemini moon would make you easy going, but you walk around and act like you have a stick up your ass. Your submissive nature is 10000% your decision but you have this talent of blaming other people for why you have codependency issues, let's call you the King/Queen of Projection. You act out, you push people away, you start fights and for what? For people to pay attention to you? lol that's sad. Why do you feel you are only worthy of getting attention when there's controversy? When you act out of character? Is it because you feel like no one cares about what you have to say unless you're being the worst version of yourself? Is that why you are so skilled at wearing masks with people? Maybe if you spent more time figuring your shit out, spending more time with yourself, and less time giving a fuck about others, you'd be able to heal the identity you shattered trying to morph into whatever everyone else wanted you to be. Basically, FIGURE OUT WHO THE FUCK YOU ARE SO YOU CAN STOP BEING AN ASSHOLE TO SECURE PEOPLE.

Moon in 3H

WHOSE SIDE ARE YOU ON?! You wishy-washy bitch you lol. (pls don't take this seriously this is a roast ok? ily) But fr, who even are you? Because you switch up your entire personality depending on the group of people you're around. You think no one notices this but I promise you they do and they're tired of your shit. A lot of people probably find you unreliable because you also seriously lie...over dumb things too? Like, who lies about what they had for breakfast? Pfft. This need to maintain a certain level of "mystery" is actually kinda cringe because you are actually so transparent. Also, you do realize you cause a lot of your own problems, right? No one can drive people away better than you can, huh? :) Your need for banter and excitement is all fun and games until it became really fucking annoying. People do not like to constantly be poked and picked at and tested. Especially if you think you're some prize to win over. Speaking of being some prize... your ego though? It's like to feel intelligently superior, your say a whole lot of nothing polished in purple prose to humiliate others. Imagine being so insecure with yourself that you feel the need to verbally tear down the ones who are just plain doing better than you in life. Your problem is that you spend so much time focusing on the people around you, wanting to gain their approval, wanting to be the center of attention, that you actually end up losing sight of your identity and you become this annoying asshole 😅🙈 By the way, you definitely do talk soooo much shit about people, and yes it is so unnecessary. MAYBE IF YOU STOPPED YAPPIN YOUR TRAP ABOUT PEOPLE, THE PEOPLE IN YOUR LIFE WOULDN'T ALWAYS LEAVE YOU or fantasize about leaving you for your much hotter family member, sibling, or friend 🤭

Pt. 2-4 are coming x

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

Do you think Adrien is a bad hero?

That's a complex question. It's kind of like asking, "Are Alya and Nino bad friends?"

The way canon has written them, I do kind of have to answer, "Yes," but at the same time, I would never write them as such because it's so antithetical to their role in the narrative. They're victims of bad writing who were never intended to read the way canon has made them read. You can tell this because almost every instance of them being terrible friends is not treated as them being terrible friends by the narrative.

Adrien is in a similar boat. The writers have consistently had him do unheroic things, but the narrative doesn't treat these actions as unheroic. I think this happens for a very obvious reason: he's a fictional character whose actions will always reflect the writers' vision of what's fine for a hero/romantic lead to do no matter how messed up that vision is.

For example, in Glaciator, Adrien ignores Ladybug telling him that she's too busy to meet up that night, but the narrative somehow paints this as Ladybug being in the wrong by giving Marinette a massive guilt trip for... sticking to the plan she and Adrien had already agreed to?

Marinette:(looks around in awe) Wow! Cat Noir, this is... beautiful! (notices Cat Noir looking glum) I'm so sorry. Cat Noir: Why? It's not your fault. Marinette: No— Yeah— I mean— What I mean is I'm very sorry for you because, um, you prepared all of this and then... she didn't show. Cat Noir: She told me she might not make it but I had my fingers crossed. I really wanted her to come. Marinette:(walks over next to him) Maybe she had a really good reason for not coming. Like, a problem or something. Cat Noir: You're only saying that to make me feel better.

And the akuma in this episode is Marinette's fault, not Adrien's, even though Adrien is the one breaking plans and ignoring people telling him that they're too busy. I have no idea what the lesson of that episode was supposed to be, I just know that it was weird. But none of that is Adrien's fault because he's a fictional character who is a slave to the writer's vision. Adrien has no power to be better than the writers. No character does.

So, yeah, the show often paints Adrien as a pretty lack luster hero and I cringe every time it happens, but I still have no issue writing or reading him as a good hero because it's blatantly obvious that he's not supposed to read as a bad hero. Otherwise you wouldn't get him constantly having the role of picking Ladybug up when she's at her lowest. That whole "you and me against the world, my Lady" thing that sounds really cool, but never amounts to anything because the writing sucks. I mean, season five literally ends with Ladybug up against the world and he doesn't show, but it's totally cool, I guess!

In summary, I think Adrien is often written as a bad hero, but pretty much every character in this show is a bad person if we take their actions at face value, so I won't slap him with that label in my own writing as its unfair to hold him to a standard I don't hold any other character to. It is extremely easy to make a few minor tweaks to his character and make him a wonderful hero.

[okeiglxg]

Day 4 of recommending 5 fanfics about the JLA meeting the Batfam with plus one. I missed two days which is yesterray and the day before that so sorry if day 4 is late!!

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Why Bruce shouldn't try to drink in pace with superhumans written by SolaceInSpace

- 2,309 words, 1 chapter, completed

- no ships

Summary- In all fairness, Bruce hadn't intended to get drunk. It was an accident. He could not be blamed for this. So what if he accidentally let slip the fact that he had kids? Bruce is at no fault at all. It was the JL's fault for asking so many damn questions.

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Bats and Birds written by Lazy_Art_Girl

- 3,464 words, 2 chapters, completed

- No ships

Summary- After the Justice League formed, members soon figured three things out about Batman:

1. He was one of the smartest individuals any of them had ever met.

2. He had no powers, be it meta, alien, or mystical.

3. He was surprisingly good with children.

Seeing #3, the members discuss among themselves how they think Batman would be such a good dad. Soon they develop a plan to let Batman know this. Little do they know that its a bit too late for that.

-----------------------------

better things to do written by ThatNerdNextDoor23

- 4,224 words, 1 chapter, conpleted

- no ships

Summary- It's important." Batman grit out. Superman scoffed, "More important than discussing the safety of the planet?" He questioned. "Yes." Bruce hissed, without hesitation.

Or

Bruce has a horde of sick children at home who need his love and care, Clark is dragging this meeting out way more than necessary, his son is impatient, and the Justice League learn something they never knew about the Dark Knight.

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Not so Alone written by Blueseabird2

- 13,700 words, 4 chapters, completed

- no ships

Summary- Batman is insulted during a Justice League mission, which wouldn't be a problem except Nightwing is there to hear it. The other League members don't know this is a problem because they have no idea Batman has kids, much less that Nightwing is one of them. Bruce decides to do the only reasonable thing: go on vacation. His children probably won't burn down anything too important.

Dick just wants to defend his family and brag about his siblings. Good thing his father taught him a few things about the importance of detailed plans and talented allies.

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Have You Seen My Kids!? Written by Cute_Bear

- 4,232 words, 2 chapters, completed

- no ships

Summary- Five Times Bruce's kids interrupted him as Bruce Wayne and One Time they interrupted him as Batman with the Justice League.

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Plus one!!

- 1,934 words, 1 chapter, completed

- no ships

Summary- Sometimes the only way to solve an impossible riddle is to give up.

(Batkids get captured by the riddler and batman has to sacrifice one)

------------------------

Thats all!! I might not have motivation to post day 5 tomorrow but I'll try anyway

Like the post for more! 🤍

Have an amazing day/night

[zvcvxl]

Ellie Williams x Reader (ONESHOT)

WARNINGS!: mf you aint even reading this shit dont even

You’ve always tried distancing yourself from people outside your friend group, however, when attention is on you, you tend to act like its your natural habitat. Even when your at the brink of - pissing yourself, breaking down in a gut wrenching breakdown, killing yourself leaving.

And let’s just say boy’s are one of your biggest fears, don’t even mention when they are in a group, gosh, you just murmur under your breath, a silent prayer whether you believe or not…

Alcohol, drugs, smoking…listen you aren’t a pussy but you just simply decline usually when any of the three are offered to you, and it’s definitely not cus your scared.

If you even stepped a centimetre within the area of your crush chances are you would loose your shit and blush hysterically, one time you almost passed out, and let me tell you, your friends do not put that past you.

“what am I even doing here” you murmur to yourself at the ridiculously ridiculous situation you are in. Can you blame yourself though? I mean, if you weren’t sitting on large ass, crimson red brick, staring at the abandoned deteriorating building with glass shards speckled amongst the sweaty, dancing people which stunk with a pungent odour of weed and bitter alcohol, strike number one,you would have been facing major remarks from your friend group.

Scurrying to a more closed-off space, the melancholy symphonies evaporating within the orchestra of voices either singing, making out or doing what the f*ck ever. You dont care. Never really have.

As your eyes search the dark sector which only was getting engulfed by the frat boys being provocative and total dumbasses, strike number two, you curse under your breath which was followed by a fog due to the freezing temperatures and how exposed the building came to be.

It was a 40 minute ride from campus, something you normally couldn’t put up with, nor would your friends in reality, but if they’re boyfriends did? They did too…meaning you’d be the last one out and no-one wants that, so you ,reluctantly, join them. Immediately regretting it when you saw the building, frankly it was creepy, had multiple floors and you needed to really squint you eyes to see it was a hospital. And it was pitch dark.

The sound of your pulse may be heard when your nervous, and you’re here to volunteer as a tribute and agree with that dilemma given the circumstances of the situation you have voluntarily put yourself in.

As your walking around trying to make it seem like your not hysterically going to breakdown in tears of you dont find your friends because thats super embarrassing like a lost puppy you cant help but feel pissed at your friends, one for leaving you and another for having toxic ass boyfriends that dont know how to communicate for shit.

A scoff escaped your lips in which your bottom lip was caught between your teeth in a way of dangerous comfort, due to the fact you can taste the metallic bitterness of your blood flushed against your tongue. Suddenly, reminding you of saltburn and you cant help but grimac-

Ayo, what the fu-

Your head darts to the person who rudely interrupted your reminiscent reminder of saltburn by shoving past you with a harsh tone.

And then You see Her.

The girl who raves off of attention, feeding off it, craving for it, addicted to it.

The girl who pays no mind to groups of boys, frat boys, any boys.

The girl who dreads life when a single day passes by without drugs, alcohol or a quick smoke. She never misses on the opportunity, gosh, shed be the one offering.

Your opposite

Your enemy

Your reason for hating college

Ellie Williams

Her harsh scowl interrupts your brain from processing a response, her auburn hair tied into her iconic half-up-half-down which makes you cream lowk annoyed.

“What the f*ck?” You say with a glare that could only be gifted to Ellie Williams.

“not my f*ckin fault your dumbass was in the way” you swear its almost like she has these interactions preplanned in her head because of how quick she always is to reply.

Either way, you cant deny Ellie is totally having you cream piss in your pants right now. The way she stands in front of you with her dark blue skinny jeans and her stupid grey hoodie, she looks like a hobo but pulls it off because her face was gifted.

Her forest green eyes stare into my pigmented ones, shes waiting for my response, and so are a few people near us…

“You know damn well i wasnt in your way Ellie” Is the only way you can fend or even muster up for yourself in this given moment, your heart doing palpitations, hands shaking but folded beneath your chest.

Ellie chuckles, she never backs down and she sure as hell won’t start doing that now, even with her toying with the fabric of her sleeve.

She’s always right, after all.

“Coulda fooled me.”

You roll your eyes, isn’t she creative? “oh wow Ellie, your awfully funny today, want a cookie?”

gosh she just made your blood boil.

She always knew how to get under your skin

“Yeah sure, snickerdoodle sounds good. So thanks.” you don’t even have to look at her to see her smile you could practically sense it, she enjoys these back and forths you guys have.

To tell the truth, you do too.

Doing the smart thing, and totally not because your scared since attention is on both of you and the music is starting to die down you walk away…well I say that but people are quick to block your so called path.

And Ellie grasps your arms before you could even think to push them away.

“Oh wow, running away already? What happened to the girl who would stay and deal with all of my snarky comments.” The feeling of her hand on your forearm sends my neurons crazy, you feel a blush rising up your cheeks.

And why the f*ck is everyone looking at us right now?

You can't help but feel the world freeze for a second, adrenaline too hard to cope, anger through the roof.

And everyone looking at us, the frat boys, the unholy aroma engulfing my nostrils.

Strike number three

Ellie immediately retracts her hand from my arm and her skilled hand hovers over the stinging feeling, which found itself on her left cheek.

Your action was like gasoline pouring on a bonfire, your slap enough to make Ellie's rage burst into a roaring flame.

“You f*cking c*nt” the auburn haired girl spews, her eyes starring daggers at you as her eyes quick gloss at the arrangement of people surrounding the two of you.

And with rapid pace you take the hint that thats your cue to leave another one of your problems…only this one cant be ran from.

“sh*t-sh*t-sh*t-sh*t-sh*t-sh*t-sh*t-sh*t” Is all that escapes your slightly parted lips as heavy breathing almost conceals your profanity whilst strands of hair undone from your ponytail, beads of sweat trickling down your temples. Hurriedly, trying to squeeze through the people towards the parking lot.

The pang in your chest, your heartbeat, so loud Ellie could hear from across the perimeter of the parking lot. Before you could even reach the bustop you feel a firm hand grasp ur arm, so tightly that zinc could feel malleable. You feel your eyes widen and your breath runs shaky.

Looking down, seeing the veiny, bony, tatted hand on your arm you could only guess..no..know this was Ellies hand. However, before you had any time to react her voice roars into your ears and you groan audibly making her spit profanity’s at you left and right like it was her job.

“You fucking bitch!”

“Slut!”

Jeez…wont she ever shut the fuck up…you thought?

Ellies eyebrows twitched, her slit becoming more defined, her eyes narrowed. Dangerous silence engulfed the air making you choke.

“The fuck did you just say?”.

You so fucked up, you internally curse yourself for a mistake like thinking out loud.

Pause, why is she looking at you like that…or why does the moon make her freckles so evident, her eyes mesmerising, her lips softer? The subtle shine of the moon making her attractive. No but why is she inching closer?

Why are you inching closer?

As her eyes stare into yours, she dosent have to say anything, Ellie’s eyes are hungry for you, shes hungry for you.

Her soft lips graze yours

Her eyes close

Her unstable breathing

She, you, kiss. A desperate kiss, a needy one its perfect. You both become one flesh, the auburns girls hands grip your waist as if your gonna leave her, you find your arms slithering around her cold neck as the sound of you guys making out cancels out the frat music, your heart beats syncing. Both of your breaths so hot, panting, trying to salvage the kiss before you pull away to catch your breath.

“Breathe, baby” you both have a moment of staring at each other, the air becoming hot. She grabs you into her arms again. Taking you as hers, your lips smashing with hers again. Only thing different is that, this time her hands roam around your body, touching you oh so desperately. It seems as if shes guiding you somewhere, suddenly, you hear her keys jingling, a car unlocking.

A car door opening.

Ellie pushes you into the backseat of her car, harshly before slamming the door behind her and her emerald eyes catch you in a trance of consent and you nod.

“I need you so bad Ellie…fuck”

“oh yeah?” her lips curl into that stupid smirk.

“yeah baby” you breathe out.

“show me how much you need me then”

And thats all you needed, your fingers find their way to ur clothed cunt, the area wet with ecstasy. You can feel her eyes tracing every one of your movements.

“so wet already? Didnt even need to touch you babe, huh?” Ellies hot breath sends chills through you as you arch your back at the sensation of your fingers rubbing circles on your panties, growing wetter, needier.

She looks up at you, her brow arched as your spread legs close.

“Why’d you stop baby?” she says before realising your shaking too much your fingers cant find the right rhythm on your clit to pleasure you. She chuckles, finding your humiliation comedic.

“Tell me what you want” you tuck a strand of her soft hair behind her ear.

“use your words” She grabs your wrist to stop you from guiding her fingers.

“I need you ell’s, your fingers, your tongue” you huff out.

Ellie smirks, dipping her head in between your thighs, making you subconsciously spread. Her lips grazing the inside of your thighs, kissing them occasionally before she spreads you wider with her fingers emitting a light sigh from you.

As her tongue makes contact with your clit, she skill fully flicks as if shes done this a hundred times before which…wouldnt be too far off (you dont hope). Your hips buckle as she increases the pressure of her tongue on your swollen clit, the darkened car filled with the noise of your wetness and your moans.

Before you knew it, she was inside of you. Increasing the speed. “Taking me so well, hm baby? Such a good girl” .

CBA FINISHING

[xzhdjsj]

Fresh Wounds

Andrew Marston x Isaac Rhoades

After they broke up.

listen to THIS for the feels!

this is @kieran-rhoades fault EVERYONE SAY THANK YOU KIERAN!!!

-

"I'm headed straight for the floor The alcohol served its tour And it's headed straight for my skin Leaving me daft and dim"

Isaac who turned to alcohol the moment he arrived home. The combined emotions of losing his grandfather and leaving the only other person he held dear in his life weighed heavily on his heart and overwhelmed his mind. Yet, despite how much whiskey burned a firey path down his throat, the pain persists, raw and throbbing in his chest like an open wound. Tear stains streaked his cheek, refreshed by new layers that soak his eyelashes then dry into his skin over and over again.

Isaac who stayed slumped over his grandfather's desk, face buried into his hands, tormented by the harsh realities of his own life. Reminded of why he’d never allowed himself to find comfort in another person.

Isaac who drained the last drops of liquor into his mouth, tossing the glass bottle aside as he stubbled to his room. His body sinking as deeply into the mattress as he has into despair.

Isaac who’s never felt quite this lonely, despite spending most of his life alone. His vision clouded like his mind as he reminisced the better parts of his life no matter how fleeting or little they were.

Isaac who isn’t quite sure when his heavy eyelids gave out or when the arms of unconsciousness had enveloped him in its comforting embrace, only to be broken by nightmares that plagued his slumber. The warmth of his lover was no longer there to protect him or guard his sleep, just the crisp cold sheets that offered no solace.

Isaac in a house that doesn't feel like the home he'd discovered in Andrew's arms.

"I've got this shake in my legs Shaking the thoughts from my head But who put these waves in the door? I crack and out I pour"

Andrew who pushed his body to its limits until he couldn’t lift a pen or focus on his tasks anymore. He stared at his screen for hours, feet tapping on the wooden floor despite his usual intolerance for fidgeting.

Andrew who lost tract of time, snapped back to reality with a knock on his door.

Andrew who excitedly swung his dorm room open hoping to see Isaac standing before him but was instead met with a random student he’d never paid any mind to or bothered to remember. A random student who handed him a flyer and moved to the next door down the hall, leaving a stunned Andrew in his doorway.

Andrew who crumbled the thin sheet of paper without sparing it a glance, tossing it into the bin and scolding himself for daring to hope. He chastised himself for even imagining Issac giving up his career to stay with him.

Andrew who attempted to neatly fold each memory and pack them into the recesses of his mind, determined not to shed tears over his lover’s happiness.

Andrew who failed miserably, collapsed onto his bed and crying into his palms as the overbearing loneliness engulfed him. Finally allowing himself to feel the emotions he had been avoiding, mourning a burnt bridge that was never intended to be rebuilt.

Yet, Andrew stared at the stars, wondering if Isaac did the same, desperately hoping Isaac did the same.

Andrew who convinced himself they would meet again when the time was right. Fooled himself he’d receive a call, a text or an email even.

"I'm Mr. Loverman And I miss my lover, man

But they weren't looking at the stars together, and their paths would never cross again. Isaac knew well what the future held, but Andrew held hope.

Fate had weaved its threads around their hearts then tore them apart like Velcro.

The perfect pair that was never meant to last.

I'm Mr. Loverman Oh, and I miss my lover"

[depressed-cryptid]

My stupid dumbass brain with its bullshit when anyone is upset in any way for any reason and I notice:

My fault??? ☹️ I caused this??? 😔 I should go die in a hole??? 😣 I am a miserable failure??? 🥺 You will always be upset at me for the rest of my life and will never forget this??? 😭 I am a terrible person??? 😭🔫

[so-much-for-the-seashells]

Always

Dean Winchester (Supernatural) x GN!Hunter!Reader

Disclaimers: The only character I own is the reader insert.

Author’s Notes: I’m writing this the day after I swore I’d never do angst. Ironic, huh. I’m working on getting more power across in my words- hopefully that shows.

Anyhow, this is set after <S2 SPOILER> John dies saving Dean. Obviously, given the nature of his passing, Dean can’t talk to Sam about it- but in this story he has someone he can talk to.

Icons by @gosling-girlx !! ❤️❤️

As always, all notes are very much appreciated!

Content/Content Warnings: This is angst at its finest. A 16+ audience would be preferred on this piece.

“What if, for just once in your life, you manned up and actually talked to me?” My voice is loud. It’s booming, and it’s borderline angry. My hands are balled into fists at my sides, and my jaws clenched.

I’m just so done. I try so hard with Dean, and I’m always patient. When he doesn’t want to talk, I don’t pry. I’m there for him whenever he needs me, however he needs me, wherever, at any hour, without so much as a second thought. I’ve never faulted him for not being able to say “I love you,” or for not being gentle when I need him to be. And I will always do these things.

But I am not okay with being told to “Stop fucking doing that,” ‘that’ being me trying to ask him if he’s okay. I let him get away with a lot of things, maybe more than I should, but outright cussing and waving me off? That’s too much.

So fine. We’ve been yelling at each other at least ten minutes now. Far too loud for a shitty motel with paper thin walls, surely, but right now I need him not only to hear me, but to listen to me.

He’s stood down after that last question. His shoulders slumped from their tense posture, his jaw no longer clenched. He’s trying so hard to retain his scowl, but I see the tick in the corner of his mouth. I see the way that his beautiful green eyes start to water.

No matter what cruel things he said to me, I refused to retaliate. He can swear at me all he wants, but he won’t get the same treatment in return. Because nothing can take down the thick walls of the elder Winchester like human decency. Something he’s never properly gotten from anyone- his own father included in that omniscient “anyone.”

“So?” I ask, my hands still fists. I won’t back down until he does, I can’t give him the chance to roll his eyes and turn away like he would with anyone else.

“I-,” his voice gets caught in his throat. “Cause I’m no man, sweetheart. Certainly not man enough for you.”

“Cut the shit, Dean,” the swear slipped out of my lips before I could stop him. I see him flinch, and my heart pangs, fists unclench. Suddenly, I’m not so fired up. “Sorry, sorry. Listen, this isn’t about what you are for me. Because if it was, we wouldn’t be fighting. You’re perfect for me, Dean.”

“Just-,” I stop myself, moving back to sit on one of the dingy hotel beds with its ugly orange gingham duvet. I sit cross-legged, back against the flat puke-green pillows propped against the headboard, looking up at Dean who is still standing in the same spot like a statue. “C’mere,” I pat the bed gently.

He obeys wordlessly, a listless quality to the way he drags his feet to where I’m sat. He doesn’t sit, though, a clear tentativity in his watery eyes. “Dean, it’s okay.”

Okay to cry, I want to add.

Okay to feel.

Okay to be human.

He sighs. “I’m just not good at talking, Y/n. I never had anyone to talk to- my dad was my boss more than anything, I had to- have to- be strong for my brother, and anyone else who’s come into my life seems to fit into one of those two categories.” A singular, perfect tear runs down his face. His expression is stony, but his voice… while as deep as always, it has a broken quality to it, something he’s trying to hide.

“Dean. I’m not anyone. You can talk to me, you can be broken with me,” I urge, mentally willing him to come sit by me so I can touch him, hug him, anything.

Finally, he sits. I don’t reach out to touch him, not yet. He looks shaky.

“Listen. I know Sam’s been up your ass trying to get you to talk about him. I know aren’t big on touchy feely stuff, and I ain’t gonna push you. But I need you to stop lashing out at me when I ask you if you’re okay.”

His cheeks are flushed, eyes wide. His lower lip quivers, finally breaking his scowl. A sad, splintered chuckle leaves his lips. “Y’know, he’d do the same to me. I’d ask, sometimes, after a real bad hunt, and he’d lash out… I’m too much like him, y/n. That’s why I don’t want to talk about him.” His voice is just a little too steady, almost artificial.

“You’re not too much like him, not at all,” I say, reaching out to him, but stopping before my hand can touch his. I’m letting him be the one to pull the trigger, to decide if he wants physical touch right now. “You’re better than he could’ve ever hoped to be, Dean. He knew that. Sam knows that. I know that.”

And that’s what breaks the dam, tears freely falling down his stubbled cheeks. He takes my hand in his, holding tight before I tug at him, inviting him to lay in my lap. He obliges, head resting in my lap. I take initiative to run my fingers through his hair, something that I’ve found soothes him.

“I just-,” his voice is broken, there’s no hiding it now. “I’m sorry.”

“I know,” I murmur. “I just want to help you be okay, that’s all.”

We sit like that for a while, his head in my lap as he cries. He doesn’t sob, but occasionally choked up noises escape him, and it breaks my heart seeing him like this. Eventually, I find it in myself to speak again.

“I know he never really said it, Dean. But he loved you, he did. He trusted you. He was thankful for you,” I tell him, wiping some of the tears off of his face.

John Winchester might’ve been a sorry excuse for a man after Mary died, fine.

But it was clear that he loved his boys, especially Dean, even if it was in his own fucked up way.

I hated the Winchester father. Quite frankly, I still do. For the way that he had put revenge in front of the care of his kids, for the way he treated his kids, even into their adulthood. I mean, making an eight year old take care of a four year old? How bad of a father can you be?

He’s a son of a bitch. But in the end, even though the bastard never once validated his elder son (nor his younger)- and he should’ve- he died for Dean. And I know Dean’ll blame himself for it. But the fact that his dad loved him… that might be enough to make the self-resentment more lenient. That and the fact that he has me.

I won’t let him hate himself or feel unloved. I think John knew that- that Dean would have far better support if he was gone. I’m know he knew how much Dean respected and idolized him, but I also know damn well that he knew damn well that he was not good enough for his son. Not nearly good enough.

So hopefully, between me and Sam, we can mend the hole in his heart. Help him feel whole again.

But for now he needs this. To cry, to feel. Something he never felt he could, not in the presence of anyone else.

Gradually the tears slow to a stop. He sniffles, wiping his face, but not moving his head from my lap. “Thank you,” he whispers.

“Always,” I lean down and kiss him on the forehead. “I mean that.”

“I love you.”

There’s no stutter or pause in his words. He’s said them, plain and simple, as if this isn’t the first time he’s been able to get the words out. I guess it’s my turn to cry, because I feel a tear trickle down my face, landing on his. He grins a crooked grin at that. “Is it that bad a fate?” he jokes.

“No, no,” I choke on my laugh. “I love you too.”

And sure, there’s going to be more nights like these. Nights where we fight, and maybe sometimes they won’t end so well, so neatly.

There’s going to be more fights. Stupid fights, nasty fights.

But there will also be more I love yous. More holding. More feeling.

And no matter what happens, I’ll be there for Dean Winchester. Always. And I mean that.

[brontekotlcyan]

Okay so i wrote the Solreef family fanfic. Its very short and surprisingly tragic. Fic under the cut.

He couldn't shake that feeling. The feeling that everything was going to collapse again. Tiergan fiddled with his beaten-up rings, contemplating his life choices as a quiet melody played in the background.

This somewhat peaceful scence was quickly abrubted as someone bust through the front door. Tiergan jumped up, expecting a battle to commence, but it wasn't a Neverseen member at his door, rather a dripping wet linh.

Tiergan immediately assumed she had flooded her parents house again, or something along the lines of that. Except... She was wrapped in a towel. How peculiar.

As she cried, Linh spoke, "I was just in the shower when the hot water ran out- I didn't care but about two minutes later I heard my mother banging on the door. She yelled through the door, There better be hot water left!" Linh stopped for a minute to catch her breath, then continued, "I was immediately scared, so I told her a feeble no...then she unlocked the door with an old metal button! I was exposed-obviously and this shock caused me to instinctively propell water at her, before I could tell what had happened, I was being pulled put of the shower without a towel." Linh fidgeted with her towel, gulping down the knot in her throat. 

"Then she started yelling about how I was a good for nothing child who deserved to die abandoned and alone...she went on to say how much she hated me and my uncontrollable ability, and-" Before she could find the power to continue, she was weeping again.

Tiergan was astonished- but at the same time unsurprisied. How could parents be so hurtful to their children when it's all some people want...? During the crying fest, Wylie had heard and was now at the bottom of the staircase, mouth a gape. (He was visiting Tiergan, like he did nearly every day.)

"Uhm. That is completely unacceptable! How could she do that? Hold on." Wylie said. 

"I'm sorry for coming her unannounced, but I just couldn't bear being around them any longer." Linh muttered through sobs.

"No- It's fine. You can come over anytime." Tiergan told her.

"Do you want me to give them a piece of my mind?"

Linh half-smiled, "No thanks. I'll probably have to be back over there in a while anyways..."

Wylie called Linh from one of the downstairs bedrooms. She walked over, with tears still rolling down her cheeks. Tiergans anger was rising. People just didn't have any critical thinking skills. Never mind common sense. 

Within two minutes, Linh was back and fully clothed, Wylie had found some stuff to fit her. 

Linhs silver-tipped hair was like a satin curtain as she looked at the floor.

"You can stay you know. For however long you want." Tiergan offered her. Linh did a couple little sniffles,

"Could I stay for a couple of hours...?" 

"Of course."

A couple of hours later, Linh was all dry and wrapped in a blanket Tiergan had given her. Prentice had arrived and he and Tiergan were discussing which Star Wars film was the best.

"Yeah I don't care if it has walking robots. That's not as good as Darth Vader turning to the light side!"

"That's exactly what an uncultured person would say. Hmh."

Wylie was watching them, smirking while sipping on cinnacreme. Eventually they stopped fighting and decided to watch The Last Jedi. They all loved Star Wars. It was one of Tiergans comforts, mostly because it was a distraction from everything going on around him.

It was dark now, and all four of them watched the movie peacefully. But Linh's mind was still running. Tam would come back any minute. She couldn't bare to face him. She just wanted things to go back to how they were. She wanted loving parents.

Meanwhile, Tiergan was glancing at his 'family' none of them were his. Linh, Wylie and Prentice would have to go home eventually...and he'd be alone again. Tears swelled in his eyes but he knew he had to force them back. It was his own fault for never making an effort to find a wife. But at the same time, Wylie was thinking about how safe he felt in this make-shift family.

Within the next few hours, everyone had gone home and Tam and Rayni had arrived. Tiergan used to love Tam like a son, but now he was even more closed off and obviously struggling. But Tiergan didn't want to push too far.

Tiergan lay in his bed, the stomach pain had come back and he just wanted someone to be there for him. He wanted a hug. Or for someone to tell him how much he means to them. He stared at his gilded curtains. Wishing the pain would end. It wouldn't. Eventually Tiergan fell into sleep, hoping the next day would be some improvement.

[blessedarethebinarybreakers]

hi i just wanted to say, thank you very much for all of your posts and perspectives on the church hurt tags, it's very validating. the religious people around me are always pushing me to physically go to church and I've always been reluctant to despite feeling like im much closer to my faith and God as my best friend lately (all thanks to the numerous queer affirming religious blogs on tumblr btw!) and it's because of all the disagreement i have with the church and what they teach here (i live in a conservatively religious country where even supporting the queer community is frowned upon)

it makes me feel incredibly guilty that i don't feel the desire to go. not to mention, another reason is i work 6 days a week and also an introvert with not that many spoons and so i dont quite have the energy to go because sunday is the only day i get to recharge. but everytime i think about these reasons, i feel guilty as if im making excuses and that im just lazy, I can't never tell which is the truth and that only adds to my guilt.

everytime someone tells me to go to church, i long to find one where i am accepted for who i am, a place where i dont have to be afraid to be myself, a place that doesn't teach outdated beliefs that doesn't resonate with me. i long to feel the desire to go and to sing worship.

and at the same time, for me, worship and my faith lies in the small things that i do everyday, like looking at the sky and admiring the clouds, sending a quick prayer of thanks when the light turns back on after a blackout, enjoying the food that God has given me, listening to music on my way home to work, scrolling through affirming blogs and crying at the amount of compassion shown to me. but it feels like everyone says that's not enough, that we need to diligently attend church to truly be a christian but i just.. cant? which is shameful for me to admit.

im sorry this got long and became a sad rant but just, thank you for having that tag i really appreciate it, I've always been afraid to verbalize all of this thought because im afraid of being judged and being told the opposite but your posts have all been very helpful

Hey anon, I'm sorry the people around you are pressuring you to go to church, rather than doing any work to make the churches around you somewhere you could actually find spiritual flourishing. You deserve spaces where you can worship in community, but when those spaces don't exist, that is never your fault.

We can honor the sabbath in myriad ways: God's instruction to the first of humanity was not "go to church" but simply "rest," one day a week. If church is not a place you can rest in God's love, seek that rest elsewhere.

I pray that guilt will release its hold on you, that you can continue to find God in the small things, and comfort in knowing that the Divine Spirit blows wherever She will — outside church walls as much as inside them.

And I pray that you will find community that supports and celebrates you exactly as you are, whether it's among Christians or elsewhere, in person or online. We are communal creatures, created for relationship. Again, it is not your fault when others fail to extend a fully loving and reciprocal relationship to you; it is just my prayer that God will guide you towards those who can be that for you, and you for them. In the meantime, God Themself is as you say your best friend, holding you close through all things. <3