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astraystayyh · 11 months

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Snow on the beach

Hyunjin x reader. friends to lovers, but they've always known. implied soulmates.

this basically wrote itself nsbdbd as always feedback is highly appreciated <33 (if you can listen to Snow On The Beach by Taylor and Lana, do it!)

The ocean laps softly at your feet, and you watch its ebb and flow intently, admiring how each wave always knows precisely where to go- where to finally rest after a long journey of travels.

This beach is your spot with Hyunjin. Not a secret one by any means, but one that feels yours because of all the memories you've shared here. The ocean has witnessed it all between the two of you.

"I will miss this," you sigh wistfully, and Hyunjin hums from beside you. He's watching the water too, legs tightly hugged to his chest, his cheek resting softly on his knee.

You've grown up with Hyunjin right in front of this ocean. You weren't lovers but you weren't friends either. You were simply a mirror of one another. Every part of him found its reflection in you.

"Me too. Remember when we first came here?" he chuckles softly at the distant memory and you smile to yourself. That was seven years ago.

You are 15, stomping down the beach because you are angry at the world, just like every other teenager. You plop down on the sand and dig your hand into its warm particles. The soothing sensation grounds you and the sound of the waves drowns out your thoughts.

"Hey," someone greets and you look up to find Hyunjin. He's your classmate in high school. You remember him in passing because you once dropped your pen and he picked it up for you without a word.

"Hi," you greet back, shielding your eyes from the harsh sun rays with your hand. Hyunjin moves a bit to the side to block out the sun for you. You notice.

"Mind if I sit with you?" he asks and you shrug, "Sure. But I don't feel like talking."

"Me too. We can sit alone together."

Paradoxal words, but you soon understand what he means by them. He's right next to you, but you're both lost in your own worlds. And yet his presence seems to have a calming effect on you. It feels comforting, to have someone exist with you without asking for anything in return.

"I do remember," you smile, turning back to look at the ocean. Your hand starts to pick up the sand once more, and Hyunjin does the same. Your pinkies brush against each other- it isn't the first time this happened. Touching Hyunjin has become second nature to you.

You are 16, facing the ocean once again. Only this time tears are streaming down your eyes. 'Where are you?' you read in Hyunjin's text and you quickly write back 'Our spot'. He's there ten minutes later. He doesn't ask what's wrong, but his fingers are intertwined with yours and it's enough. It was the first time Hyunjin has grabbed your hand in. You haven't been the same since.

"And now you're leaving me," Hyunjin teases, a glint of amusement shining brightly in his eyes. He knows you'd never leave. Even if you are no longer near him.

"Mm, finally getting a break from you after 7 years," you joke as your fingers curl around his pinky, as his hand gently tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear. You'll always be here.

You're 17, and it's nearly midnight, and yet you and Hyunjin are still talking in front of the ocean- the waves drinking in each bit of your conversation.

It's cold and you shiver slightly from the breeze grazing your exposed arms. Hyunjin notices and opens his jacket wide for you, silently inviting you to seek warmth from him. You bury yourself in his chest, his arms coming around to encircle you.

Your ear settles directedly on top of his heart- the first time you listen to Hyunjin's heartbeat. But it feels familiar, as if it's been ringing within you from the moment you met.

"Can't believe you won't be here for my birthday," he pouts and you giggle, inching closer to him in the process.

You've celebrated your birthday together for the past seven years. You've known all his wishes, since he always shared them with you. He didn't care about the superstition that telling someone your wish prevented it from becoming a reality. He believed that you and he are one, so it was only natural to tell you.

"I'll call you from the other side of the world." You were leaving, not for long, only a year. A work opportunity you couldn't pass on. And yet it felt weird and unnatural to be somewhere where Hyunjin wouldn't be.

You are 18, and as you watch the waves fizzle out as they meet the shore, your head laying on Hyunjin's shoulder, a sudden realization dawns on you.

You are an ocean wave soaring too close to the sky, fueled by emotions too raw, too powerful, to be guarded by your heart alone. But as you near Hyunjin, your waves falter, your steps halt. Your worries, your fears, and your anger are no longer forces to be reckoned with. Instead, they become harmless sea foam. A mere shell of what they once were. To you, Hyunjin is the shore, bringing you out of your darkness, welcoming you home.

"You'll call at my midnight?" he asks, leaning his face closer toward yours. You could clearly see his moles now, the one under his eye, and the one on his cheek. They remind you of the ink of a poet that ended up drying on his face. Everything that made Hyunjin was poetry to you.

"Missing me already?" you grin at him and his eyes soften at you. "I miss you even when you are with me."

You are 19, and Hyunjin is laying his head on your lap, dried tear stains on his face. This isn't the first time you've seen Hyunjin cry. But it is the first he sobbed in your arms. It was an agonizing sight, one that made you realize just how far you care for him. His eyes were now closed, as you gently thread through his hair, your touch seemingly calming him down.

"I think I'm your shore today," you whisper, your voice getting caught up with the wind and the crashing of waves. But Hyunjin catches it. He understands.

"I need to write you a list of reminders, since I won't be here to take care of you," you joke, brushing away his words as if they weren't now imprinted onto your heart.

"If I don't follow them will you come back?"

You are 20, and it's your birthday. You are naturally celebrating it at your spot at the beach. You are laughing loudly at a joke Hyunjin just said when your hand slips from beneath you, and you are suddenly thrown forward, your nose now brushing against his. Hyunjin stares deeply into your eyes, and it makes your heart clench- how unguarded he seems to be with you. So you lean in and place a chaste kiss on the mole adorning his cheek. You've always wanted to do that.

"This is my birthday gift," you giggle and Hyunjin shakes his head, a crimson blush tinting his cheeks.

"I'll always come back to you," you say quietly.

You are 21 and it's snowing at the beach. The first time you've seen it happen in your entire existence. You watch in awe as dainty snowflakes coat the sand- a sight so mesmerizing it renders you speechless for a few moments. But despite the beauty unfolding around you, Hyunjin still only has his eyes on you. You are admiring the snow and he's admiring you.

"And I'll always be here."

You are now twenty-two, and you are saying your goodbyes to your place at the beach with Hyunjin.

It happens naturally, the way Hyunjin finally tells you that he loves you, right where it had all started. This is the first time he's uttered those three words and yet it's as if you've been hearing them for the past seven years.

"I love you," you say back, the confession flowing easily from your mouth because you've both always known.

You've known each time you sat down here, in front of this ocean. Where every past version of yourselves confessed the way they knew best- through stolen glances and subtle touches and comforting words. Where you've slowly grown within ones another's soul, just like the rings of a tree.

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inkskinned · 2 years

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but you couldn't, like, see a gay person kissing.

it was alright that i had been catcalled at 12 years old. it was alright that i had been followed and groped at 15. it was okay men were leery and treacherous. it was okay when a man asked me my age and when i said 18, he said, that age is my favorite.

don't you like feeling sexy? i love action movies, but i often have an internal tally of how often a camera will begin at someone's hips and travel to her face only as if by accident. weirdly, you can't show too-much asscrack in the same movie, even if it was the style in the nineties. sort of only apply a tasteful sprinkling of asscrack.

i am wearing a body type that is very easily sexualized. it's a compliment, you'll miss it. it is not his fault, i am told - and then usually with this assurance, someone will compare me to an object. i am, by the way, not using "i become an object" metaphorically. well, you wouldn't wear a precious watch in a dangerous city - i am the watch, in this situation. can you blame a thief for taking a jewel if it was just left out in the open? i think my personhood is the jewel, but sometimes also it is pain. a dog sees a steak. i like this one because it does refer to men as dogs, even if it does literally compare me to a piece of meat (which is, you know, somehow worse than being a dog. at least call me a bitch, babe).

it's inappropriate to show two men kissing, but it's totally normal to hear that "best" age for childbirth is 15. (it's not, by the way. try 20's & 30's. do your fucking reading). and on tv - let's cut from a murder mystery where a woman is shown brutally bloodied, carved into pieces (only pg-13) into a tampon commercial where she runs around, happy and fluttering, refusing to use the word period, white pants abounding. periods: gross, icky. violence, though, is just a gendered currency.

so it's like - you say "can we please treat women like they're people and stop cutting their heads off in advertisements" and then it's like. no actually we needed that woman's bellybutton to sell drain fluid don't like it don't look. and you say "can you please not make every latin person a drug dealer holy shit" and they're like. unfortunately if we don't make the latin person a drug dealer we literally will go rabid. and you say "okay can we at least agree you super don't need to use racist epithets why is this even a conversation we're still having" and they're like. actually my child is a make-a-wish kid and his only wish was that i get to use words that make your skin crawl and if you don't let me use the words it's because you love cancer don't you.

so it's kind of a lost cause. because when something is complicated even a little bit, you find yourself trying to explain that the solution isn't make women cover up, it's that the idea "sexualization of nonconsenting parties is wrong" can also hold hands with the idea "not every expression of fondness is sexual in nature, nor is nonhegemonic sexual expression somehow more inflammatory or inappropriate than its counterpart"- and both of those ideas can also hold hands with "the male gaze is rarely censored despite the massive amounts of societal harm it imposes." but like, that's a big thought. let's just slap "pg-13" on the movie because they actually use the word lesbian. and let's cross our fingers and hope no kid figures out they're lgbt+ before college - otherwise they have access to literally no resources, since even google will censor the results in case they're pornographic. now, if you wanted to know how to hide a body...

when i was a kid i used to keep my eyes on my toes while walking past bra stores, feeling uncomfortable. it was gross to look at ladies, i knew that much. the way the women were posed was... not for me. not even for the people shopping. it was weird. i don't think anyone actually there-for-the-product was like yeah this is inspiring.

and i remember in high school my friends and i were still talking about how uncomfortable we felt in victoria's secret, shuffling our way out into the new england chill. little yellow leaves around our feet. a guy held the door open for us. a few seconds later, he jogged up after us. we were so startled we turned to look. "sorry," he said. "i just wanted to ask how old you all are." we were young then, so we lied and told him we were older. we'd talk about this later - we all thought maybe one of us had dropped our wallet or something. he smiled dolefully. "i just wanted to say you all are fucking beautiful. you have amazing tits on you."

sometimes i wonder. what if one fraction of the effort they put into making sure no gay thing ever occurs onscreen just went into controlling and educating their own fucking population. now wouldn't that be something.

#this is all over the place #im still recovering from nona #this doesn't make sense #i think what im saying is #fuck censorship #friendly reminder the hays code was LITERALLY created to appease nazis :)

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matan4il · 3 months

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Update post:

The fighting along Israel's northern border continues. Today, a Hezbollah attack drone was intercepted over Ein Ha'Mifratz, not too far from the famously mixed city of Akko, in northern Israel. The IDF has been targeting terrorist squads and infrastructure in southern Lebanon in response to the on going Hezbollah attacks on civilians communities here. Meanwhile, a Hezbollah senior has threatened today that Israel is "not ready" for what they have prepared for it.

An Iranian delegation is visiting Egypt, and just like everything else that legitimizes the Islamist regime in Iran, and allows it to get a step closer to its vision of being a world power, this should concern us. The Iranian-funded Houthis have been attacking ships traveling through the Red Sea, which affects global shipping, but the impact to Egyptian economy is even greater, as all of these ships are not passing through the Suez Canal, meaning they're not paying Egypt for this passage either.

A big thank you to @curieklei for sharing this NYT link with me: France is another country clearly denouncing South Africa's false lawsuit against Israel. That's on top of the US, the UK, Canada, and Germany, with the latter even saying it would join the lawsuit on Israel's side.

Yesterday, Jan 18, was the one year birthday of Kfir Bibas, the youngest Israel hostage, who was kidnapped to Gaza when he was just 9 months old. He has spent a quarter of his life in captivity, and counting. In Tel Aviv, his uncle gave a speech, in which he brought up reading what developmental stepping stones Kfir should be going through right now, based on his age. He should be seeing many colors, but he's only experiencing darkness. He should be crawling on safe, warm ground, instead he's kept underground. In Jerusalem, a mural has been dedicated to Kfir and the rest of the Bibas family, including 4 years old Ariel, all still held hostage in Gaza. Since 'kfir' in Hebrew means lion cub, and 'ariel' means God's lion, the whole family is depicated as lions:

These are Shachar and Tamar. During the war, Shahar was seriously injured, and had to have his leg amputated. He's going through rehabilitation, and before even finishing it, he and his girlfriend Tamar got engaged:

The medical first aid that the army is giving the soldiers has dramatically increased their odds of surviving even some critical injuries. During the Second Lebanon War in 2006, the percentage of soldiers wounded, who died from their injuries, was 15%. During the Protective Edge operation in 2014, the percentage dropped to 9.2%. According to IDF statistics, so far in this war, the percentage is even lower, at 6.7%, less than half of what it used to be during the Lebanon war. These advancements in emergency medicine have also helped civilians injured seriously by Hamas terrorist on Oct 7 to survive. Much like in the past, it's sure to be used around the world, and help save the lives of many, without Israel ever getting credit for its global humanitarian aid.

This is 19 years old Adir Tahar.

On Oct 7, he was stationed at the Erez checkpoint, on the border between Gaza and Israel. Just a reminder: there were no Israelis going into Gaza since Israel withdrew in 2005. There were Gazans coming into Israel daily, to work here, to get medical treatment, etc. Without soldiers at the checkpoint, it would have been closed. By serving there, Adir wasn't just protecting Israelis, he was also serving the Palestinian population in Gaza.

On the day of the massacre, Adir fought back against the Hamas terrorist and saved many others, before he was killed in battle, when they shot an RPG at him. But then, they abused the body of this kid. They cut off parts of it, including beheading it. David Tahar, Adir's father, recently recounted how he watched a Hamas vid showing his son's headless body. What was left, was so mutilated, they had to identify it based on his dog tags, personal items he carried and DNA. During an interrorgation of two terrorists who were involved in this, it turned out that one of them tried to auction Adir's head for 10,000 $. The family originally had to bury the body, knowing its main parts were missing. The interrogation produced enough intel, for the IDF to be able to retrieve the head from where it was kept in an ice cream shop's freezer, with signs of further abuse on it. The family opened the grave and re-buried their kid.

They are now trying to raise enough money, to open a center for endangered youth, dedicated to Adir's memory, in the city where he lived, Jerusalem. The last time I saw an update, they were looking to raise 500,000 shekels, and got donations of 27,000 shekels. I really hope they succeed. Either way, may Adir's memory be a blessing.

(for all of my updates and ask replies regarding Israel, click here)

#israel #antisemitism #israeli #israel news #israel under attack #israel under fire #israelunderattack #terrorism #anti terrorism #hamas #antisemitic #antisemites #jews #jew #judaism #jumblr #frumblr #jewish #resources

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cockdestroyer32 · 8 months

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it's rotten work.

peter b. parker x fem!reader

word count: 2615

summary: Peter's been a wreck after his divorce with MJ. Thankfully, you're there to look after him.

aka me just fantasizing about taking care of peter b. parker when he needed it and giving him the love he so very deserves.

a/n: yeah I write abt this loser now

Two months. That’s how long it’s been since Peter and MJ’s divorce. Two months of countless pizza orders and late-night fast food trips. You tried your best, of course, most days making lunch and dinner for Peter, but it still wouldn’t help his insurmountable need to shove oily fries drenched in high amounts of salt down his throat. Though he would gladly take them. His hand finding yours on the table, giving you a knowing look with his sad, tired eyes that you’d gotten used to seeing so damn often on him. His own way of a thank you. Two months of coming home to Peter’s place to find him sprawled out on his couch, his head lying on his own arm and still wearing shoes. The TV would be on playing the most random channel. He’d be staring at it, but if you turned it off he wouldn’t even blink. Two months of trying your best to be there for him.

You were still getting used to the new apartment. For as long as you could remember, Peter and MJ lived in the same house for the past 15 years. You’d gotten used to it. It was nice. Two stories, wooden floors, big dining room. They’d have Thanksgivings there, it was almost a tradition. The turkey was served and everyone gathered around, talking and laughing about nothing. Peter was happy then, at least most of the time.

This apartment was none of that. It was way smaller, one small cube covering kitchen, living room and bedroom, with a room to the left including the tiny bathroom- which has a bathtub? You never quite understood that, what is it with Americans and putting bathtubs in their already tiny bathrooms?- not to mention it was unkept. The dishes practically overflowing, two pizza boxes, one awkwardly thrown to the counter, not even closed, its gaping mouth allowing you to spy the damp spots the hot pizza left on the cardboard box, and the other shoved inside the trash, which was also nearly overflowing. A barely-eaten cereal bowl rested on the sad excuse of a dining table, some colorful circles creeping out of the white liquid. It was more milk than cereal. And both ingredients also stood there, not put back on their respective places.

Peter does not have enough money to just waste perfectly good milk.

You grab the carton and open the refrigerator, the light illuminating the kitchen/living room/bedroom area. God, even the refrigerator was sad. An already open can of soda standing lonely to the side, feeling unsafe on the grids of the shelf, a container of cheese at the top, four eggs to the side, and untouched lettuce to the middle. You place the milk inside, now making company to the lonely soda, and shut the refrigerator door, making your way back to the couch. As you do you pass by the wall of the apartment that includes Peter’s attempt at decorating, one only possible after much pleading by you that the place might feel more like home if he did so.

They were pictures. Pictures on the wall. Four to be specific. All taped to the wall with double-sided tape. They were all scattered like corn and asymmetrical. How and why did he manage to do that? You don’t know. Was it awful? Yes.

But you were still excited when you’d shown up to his place and found them there.

This was only a fraction of the pictures he had back in his place with MJ. Their old living room had once been full of pictures of them and the memories they made together. But these were the ones he took and remained. The middle picture was one of you and Peter, back when you traveled to Barbados. You stood behind him, hugging him with one arm from behind, your chin resting on his shoulder as you both smiled at the camera. The one to the side was a picture he took of you on your birthday, you wore one of those birthday headbands, a huge smile spreading across your face as you saw one of your other friends bringing you your cake. It was slightly blurry, not one you’d usually have on your wall but beautiful regardless. When you’d seen that picture, your finger reached out to touch it, surprised it was there, and you turned around to look at Peter, who refused to look at you, clearly embarrassed. The third one is a picture of May, 2 years before she died, her grey hair perfectly framing her smiling face, and the fourth one of Peter and May, sitting on her couch, his arm wrapped around her shoulder and his head on hers.

Peter sits on the couch, his ankles extended out, looking like he wanted to trip someone. He wore the same grey sweatpants he always wore, and his sweatshirt was stained. The bags under his eyes were prominent, and his eyebrows were furrowed. His gaze was fixated on the TV, but he actually seemed to be paying attention this time, so that’s progress…right?

You threw your body on the couch beside his, letting out a sigh and looking at the screen. He was watching a documentary on…pandas? You don’t comment on it. Or on his stained shirt. Or on the cereal bowl. Or on the milk. You just stare at the TV.

“I’m fine,” He says, his voice raspy.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You didn’t have to.”

You don’t reply. He’s used to you asking the same question, and you’re used to hearing the same answer. You both know he’s not fine, that he hasn’t been fine in a while, but that there’s not much you can do but let time pass, to let the wound heal as best as it can, leaving only a scar, that at least won’t sting as much anymore. You know Peter. You’ve known him for years. You know his moods, you know what makes him laugh, what makes him angry, his mannerisms and what they mean, his favorite foods, his favorite flavor of cake…you know when he needs love.

Except for on days like this. On days where he’s grumpy and barely speaks at all. Days where his arms are crossed and he’s always tapping his foot. Sometimes he just wants to be left alone, sometimes he wants as much physical affection as possible. You don’t know.

So, you leave a hint.

You place your hand next to his on the couch- they have always been so rough, so calloused, yet always felt nice- and you lift your pinky, it grazing across the back of his hand. Up, and down. You do that once before stopping it at the bottom of his hand, just next to his pinky. If he wants to take it, he can take it, if not, he doesn’t have do anything.

You feel the back of his hand being taken away from the tip of your finger, before his palm finds yours and he entwines your fingers together, giving your hand a light squeeze. Yours is smaller than his, and certainly softer. You don’t look at each other, you don’t have to. You keep your eyes on the panda eating bamboo and feel his thumb caress the side of your hand.

If that wasn’t clear, it’s been a rough two months. And you’ve been there for rough months. You were there for when Peter and MJ would have tough arguments, for when being Spider-Man started being just a little too much for him, for when he couldn’t save everyone, for when Aunt May died. But this? This was bad. Almost as much as May’s death. He just…fell into a hole. And you don’t blame him either. He’d been married to Mary Jane for fifteen years. Fifteen years. Having to separate from someone you spent more than a decade with must be one of the hardest things ever, and you couldn’t exactly say you understood.

It wasn’t all bad though. One time, you decided to watch a movie together. You let Peter choose the movie. Horror. You were never quite used to it, but were you gonna say no to him? No, and he knew it. About 40 minutes in, there was a scene where the main character was inspecting his house after having heard a strange noise. He walks around for a while, letting the tension build until suddenly the monster rises behind him. It’d been about 11pm at that point and you let out a loud yelp, followed by your hand slapping over your mouth as you realize what you did. You did a slow turn towards Peter, finding his eyebrows raised and his mouth slightly agape, before he burst out into laughter. The sound rang through your ears like your favorite song. God, it’d been so long since you heard that laugh. If you knew it’d happen you’d grabbed your phone and started recording it immediately. But at that point it’d been enough, and you couldn’t help but start laughing too.

Now, you feel Peter’s grip slowly loosening on yours and you turn your head towards him. His eyes are closed, and his eyebrows are more relaxed now, though he’s not asleep just yet. From this angle you could perfectly see his roman nose, the bridge sticking out in all of its wonder, and the little bend to the side, where he’d broken it so many times his healing factors had just given up. He hated it. You always loved it, and he knew it. You leaned in slightly.

“Pete…” You whisper, “Pete, let’s get you to bed.”

He murmured some nonsense. A chuckle leaves your lips and you reach for his arm.

“Pete, if you wanna sleep we gotta get you to bed, come on.”

“O…kay…” You get up from the couch and place both hands on his arms, motioning for him to get up. When he does he rests his head on yours, and you drape your arm over his shoulder, leading him to his bed. He drops his body on it and oh he looks adorable. His arms curved in front of him almost in a praying motion, and his knees slightly bent. You notice his shoes are still on and reach to take them off, he doesn’t even move as you do so, and you set them down neatly on the floor. You know what’s next, you’ve gotten used to it: you crawl on the bed beside him, and wrap an arm around him from behind, the other creeping from under his body so you can hug him properly. You bury your face on his shoulder and squeeze him tight, your legs lying just behind his.

Peter likes being the little spoon. You wonder if he’s always been like this or if it was born out of an extreme need to receive the physical affection he lost after his divorce. Those thoughts are quickly brushed off but everlasting, you probably shouldn’t be thinking about that. This happens every night now, to the point Peter doesn’t sleep without you anymore. If you take too long to crawl into bed, he tells you in a groggy voice, “Come hereeeee…”

One time you got up in the middle of the night to drink some water, and in comes Peter, wearing his grey pajama shirt, rubbing his eyes as he sleepily asks you, “Why'd you go?”

The first time you fell asleep cuddled together was a little over a month ago. Peter’d been quiet that entire day and you left him alone, figuring he just wanted time for his thoughts, until eventually you lifted a gentle hand, resting it against his shoulder as you asked, “You alright? Wanna talk?” And a few minutes later you found yourself holding a sobbing Peter, his hands desperately clutching to your back as you rubbed his, his face pressed against your chest as his own heaved. Wet trailings ran down your body and made your shirt damp, trailings that’d grow salty and sticky on your skin, but that’d you pay no attention to.

You don’t even know how long that lasted, you just held him for as long as he needed, until his weeping subsided and the sobs were replaced only by the shuddering breaths one gets after crying so desperately. Then even those went away, Peter’s breath completely evened out and calm. You noticed he was heavier in your arms, and whispered his name as you leaned your head down, looking for his face, only to be met with one of a sleeping Peter. His lashes were wet and eyes were shut and relaxed, as if he hadn’t just had a full breakdown in your arms. You stayed like this for a moment, wondering if he’d wake up, and knowing you didn’t have the heart to do it. Eventually you leaned back on the couch, your back resting against it as your head was placed awkwardly on its stiff arm. He slid down on your body a bit as you did, his face now at your stomach, and he tightened his grip and pressed his nose into your skin. You still don’t know if he remembered he did that.

And now Peter has you climbing into bed beside him every night, trying your best to envelop his body with yours even though your frame is much tinier.

You turn your head to him as you feel him shift and take a breath.

“I wanna…be big spoon…” You can barely make out the words due to his raspy mumbling, and before you could even process them, Peter was turning around and grabbing your arm, flipping you on your side as he wrapped his arms tightly around you. Tight as if to ensure you wouldn’t try to escape his grip.

Woah. Is this what MJ felt every night when she was with Peter? Again, probably not something you should be thinking about, but still. This? This comfortable?

If you were MJ you would have never given up on this. Ever. No matter what.

God, he’s strong. I mean, you knew he was strong, he’s Spider-Man for crying out loud. But you’d never thought about how that came into play in moments like this, where he could wrap his arms around you with such a firm yet tender grip that it felt like absolutely nothing could tear you two apart.

Though you were still quite a bit frozen. Peter had never done that before. This was new and sudden. And slowly you could feel that information seep back into Peter’s presumably more awake mind as well, with the way he turned his head slowly to the left, and his body straightened and stiffened on your back.

“Uhh, is this okay?” He asked.

“Yeah, it’s alright,” You replied. He was probably awake right now, mortified by his own actions but too comfortable and scared to pull away. And so were you. So you placed your hand on his arm, and gently ran it back and forth, telling him you really were okay with this, and if anything you wanted him to keep it up. His body remained frozen for at least 3 seconds until he lifted his arm from under your hand, and placed his palm over it, enlacing your fingers together. He pressed your arm in the front of your body and buried his nose in your neck. It sent a few shivers down your spine, you won’t lie. But you just took a deep breath and toughed it out, closing your eyes as well and relaxing. His breath on your neck slowly lulled you to sleep.

Hopefully, this is your new night routine.

#peter b parker #peter b. parker #peter b parker x reader #peter b parker x you #peter b parker x y/n #into the spider verse #across the spiderverse #spider man: across the spider verse #spiderman #spider man into the spider verse #spider man itsv fic #spider man x reader

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philsmeatylegss · 3 months

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Fundraisers for people/families trying to escape genocide

Have come across so many Palestinian people and family struggling to find funds to escape (which is ridiculous itself). Wanted to compile a list of as many as I can find with a small summary for those interested.

A plea for Humanity to help my family escape gaza

Summary: Thaer Aburaida is a student completing residency in Germany. However, her family of 15 are stuck in Gaza. The youngest being triplet babies with little access to formula. There are also a 2, 3, and 4 year old. Funds will be used to help them escape as well as healthcare as they are currently sick.

Emergency: help me evacuate my family from Gaza

Summary: Rawan AbuMahady, a 30-year-old Palestinian-currently residing in Canada, is a social worker and researcher who grew up on Gaza. She is recovering from PTSD due to what she has witnessed. Her younger sisters and parents still remain in Palestine, however. Her younger sisters, Hadeel (24)and Ayah(22 years old), has been expereincing severe panic attacks and have no access to food or clean water. Her mom has Type 2 Diabetes and was scheduled for eye surgery. However, she has had no access to insulin or any medical care for the past 3 months. Despite Rawan’s relentless efforts to reach the Canadian embassy and multiple international NGO’s through various channels, she has not received any help. However, her family has found a way to escape to Egypt for $7,000 each. While Rawan is financially independent and proud of the life she has made, she cannot afford a fee this high. As her family needs more than just fleeing to Egypt. Funds will first go to passes to get to Egypt, and any extra funds will go to transportation costs between Al-Nusierat camp to Rafah City, costs for any more travel, and possibly helping with food and shelter.

Gaza: Help my family afford emergency surgeries

Summary: Nouran is an artist whose family has suffered injuries during the bombings. The injuries are brutal. Her brother lost his right eye and ear, and suffered a skull fracture. Shrapnel has destroyed his right ear canal, and he’s completely deaf on that side. Nouran also lost her right eye. She also suffered major soft tissue trauma to my forehead and scalp. Her dad has completely lost his right calf muscle and can no longer walk without support. He can’t get surgery right now because there are no doctors here that know how to give epidural anaesthesia. Her mom has an untreated broken jaw and can no longer eat solid food. In the time since she was injured, she has lost over 14kg. All donations will go to treating their wounds. Medicines like antibiotics, anaesthesia, and pain relief are extremely expensive and difficult to get because of supply issues. They are also low on food with savings going fast. She has family in Ireland who can help with travel after they can escape, but they need help immediately with their health.

help a family have a chance in life

Summary: Dr. Haya Ahmed Hegazy is a 28 years old Obstetrician and Gynecologist. Despite her and her family themselves having to flee, she has been doing everything she can to provide free healthcare to fellow refugees, including helping woman give birth safely. She needs money to escape with her family where she hopes to complete her studies and return to help with more knowledge

Help Abdallah Zaqout and Family of 10 Evacuate

Summary: Abdallah Zaqout, a young man who has recently watched his friends be martyred, and his family of 10 need help escaping Gaza. His family includes multiple young children, sleeping in leaking tents and suffering intense anxiety. You can find Abdallah @/abdallah_zaqout on Instagram and the creator of the fundraiser is taking questions on their Instagram, @/tigerlily4448

Help me and my family to escape from Gaza war!

Summary: Thaer Inshasi, is a radiologist living in the Gaza Strip. He has five siblings, one with a two year old child. All ten family members are currently living in a 3*3 room with no electricity, gas, or human toilet as well as no access to clean water or food. He is trying to find asylum for him and his family in Belgium. He needs $40,000 to get to Egypt and $40,000 to get him and his family to Belgium.

Help Moaiad escape Gaza to become a Doctor

Summary: Moaiad Aljamal, 21, lives in Gaza and is a 3rd year medical student trying to immigrate to Egypt to complete his degree. When attending school in Palestine, he was in the top 2 percentile of his classes. He plans to be a Cardiothoracic Surgeon. He has a family of nine all still stuck in Gaza, living in a refugee camp close to the border. The $8,000 will be used to help Moaiad cross into Egypt where he plans to finish education and hopefully make enough money to help the rest of his family leave.

Help my family evacuate Gaza

Summary: Rana Muneer is currently stuck with his family of five in the Gaza Strip, including her husband and three children. Her husband is supervisor in the ministry of heritage and she is a teacher. She has been forced to flee several times and is very low on supplies, including supplies for their two year old who still needs diapers and milk. They also have little access to medicine, food, and water. All funds will be used to buy supplies immediately for survival and to help flee.

Help Evacuate My Family from Gaza

Summary: Mahmoud Zaqout is attempting to raise money to help him and his family flee to Egypt. His sister is living in inhumane conditions in a refugee camp after recently giving birth. Her, her husband, and three other children are all sick, starving, and traumatized.

Help me rebuild my life & rebuild my family's home

Summary: Ali from Gaza is raising money to pay off debt from his bombed clothing store. His home has also been bombed. He and his family, including young children, are desperate to escape and, though he’s already done so much to work tirelessly for his family, is willing to do it again to resettle his family. He is looking to escape and have a safe net of money to recover as he starts over.

Help my Arabic teacher and his family flee Gaza

Summary: Mumen and his wife, Aya, and their 5-year-old daughter, Zaina, lived in Gaza City until the extreme bombardment started in October, along with his two parents, Ghazi and Zainab, and 10 siblings. Mumen, Aya and Zaina fled by foot, walking south, with nothing but whatever money they had on them. Along the way they were shot at "mockingly" (shooting at the ground just by their feet) by Israeli soldiers - one of many traumatic experiences they have endured. They have received the news their home has been destroyed. They have come to selling Aya’s jewelry to get by. They have almost raised enough money to cover the cost for him and his eight family members to escape to Egypt, but they still need basic necessities. In the event they cannot escape, all funds will be used for necessities

Help me REUNITE with my family.

Summary: Ola Masoud, her husband, and her children were very fortunate to escape to Egypt from Palestine before it was too late. However, her brother, Mostafa Masoud, and his family remain stuck in Gaza. They are relying on wood to make fires. They are a family of nine, two children studying medicine, all with dreams. Each member of the family needs at least $6,000 CAD for each family member to leave Gaza. All money will be to pay for permits for them to do so.

Help my family to escape GAZA

Summary: Sondos Maher, 27, is a mother of three. Her and her husband have studied hard to achieve their dream life. However, she has been forced to leave her husband behind and flee with their children. She is hoping for raised $7,000 for the Rafah Crossing permit, $500 for the fees of travel and transportation from Gaza to Egypt, and $20,000 will go towards shelter/house rental in Egypt, resettling, buying clothes, urgent healthcare, and other humanitarian needs for a few months up to 1 year.

Sondos ran a YouTube channel showcasing their family. Please check it out.

Help My Family Escape Gaza: A Journey to Safety

Summary: Mohmad Abumery is raising money to help his family of six escape Gaza, including 11 year old Farah, medical graduate, Faiza, and his grandma. His family has started showing symptoms of mental illness, specifically PTSD. Both his father and grandma suffer from hypertension and are facing constant low stockage of the their medication. His mother is a humanitarian who raised $2 million for humanitarian projects in Gaza. However, she currently resides in the Netherlands and is in great suffering wondering if her family will live. Funds will cover airplane tickets, egyptian border security clearance, living expenses in Egypt, and moving expenses to the Netherlands to reunite with their mother.

Help Somaia Escape War

Summary: Somaia Adunada, 29, resident of Palestine, was preparing to travel to the USA to pursue her master's degree in English literature when October 7 happened. An air strike killed her sister and injured her and her family. Basic necessities have been a struggle from the start. The only way for Somaia to travel now is to pay "coordination" fees for travel permits, which have risen from $300 to $9,000, an amount she cannot afford. The funds raised will cover the coordination fees, the cost of her flight to the USA, and any other associated expenses.

Help My Friends' beloved Family Escape Gaza

Summary: Run by a friend, this fundraiser is for Mahmoud Shakshak. He is a student currently living in Türkiye, however, he is originally from Gaza where his family is still trapped. Funds will be used to help his family cross the Egyptian border to find refuge. This family consists of retired Sadi, 65, and his wife, Amna, 57, Mohammed, 33, his wife, Hanan, 33, and their children, Sadi Jr., 6, Ahmed, 5, and Mohammed Jr., only 101 days, Walaa, 35, Muhannad, 36, Bashar, 8, Raed, 27, and Zeena, 15. They are project managers, computer engineers, social workers, and beloved family. Funds will be used for travel fees, housing, and medical treatment, specifically for the months old child.

Help my family and I to evacuate from Gaza

Summary: 17 year old Shaymaa Abudalu is stuck in Gaza with her family, including her parents, her siblings Sarah, 12, and Lana, and Layan, 9. They need $50,000 CAD, mostly to help escape to Egypt, but also for visas, and basic necessities such as food, clothing, medicine, and shelter

Help my mother and sisters escape war in Gaza

Summary: Hasan Abuolba is a licensed realtor in Buffalo NY and a permanent resident in the US, however she has been separate from her family since 2014. Her five sisters, mother, aunt, uncle, and their children are all still stuck in Gaza. Her mom is a single mom of five children. They have had to walk everywhere with only a backpack of supplies. Three weeks ago, their refugee camp was bombed. She is trying to raise money to help her increasingly traumatized family escape, starting with her sisters, the youngest 12 and 13. Any additional funds will be used to help her aunt, uncle, and their minor children.

HELP REEM & HER FAMILY ESCAPE GAZA

Summary: Reem lives in Rafah with her husband, four children, and mother in law, 80. Funds will be used to escape with her 9 family members. Specifically, passport fees, Evacuation Fee/Egyptian Coordination, visa application fees, transportation to get to the border, Flight from Cairo to destination, and other living costs. Make sure to not give any percentage at checkout to Gofundme. She is allocating over $3,000 in assumption to go to Gofundme.

Help me get out of Gaza To save my life

Summary: Ola Louz has been a resident of Palestine her whole life. She has been displaced four times and has dealt with a lifetime of trauma. Ola has received a scholarship at the Asian University in Bangladesh. The scholarship would help her complete her university studies, which she can not continue in Gaza. All donations would be used to helped her escape to Egypt and then to Bangladesh.

Help our family evacuate Gaza and find safety

Summary: Ramzi Saud and Sarah Tahhan are attempting to help their family flee to safety. They are now living in Khan Younis in a house of 60 people with scarce food, no potable water, and no electricity still with constant bombs. Funds will go to Rafah border crossing for 9 people, Passport fees for 9, and money for rent and living expenses for two months. They have currently raised enough money to start setting up their escape, but still need more.

Help Salma escape agression on Gaza,secure insulin

Summary: Hayam Abu-Shaaban, 37, is residing with his family on the Gaza Strip. She is a mother of five, the older 15 and the youngest 4. One child, Salma, has suffered with diabetes since age 2. There is a constant low stock of insulin and the price continues to rise. Funds will be used to relocate to Egypt, purchase Salma’s insulin, and to get settled with necessities.

Help me to evacuate from Gaza

Summary: Khaleel Al-Najar, 29, is a husband and father to his baby daughter, Ghazal. He needs 30 thousand dollars actually to be able to leave Gaza and to reach Egypt with his wife and daughter, and another 10 thousand dollars to live in Egypt for a year until finding any suitable job there would be greatly helpful.

Help Shahd's Family Escape Gaza!

Summary: Arabic teacher, Shahd Safi, 22, and her family are trying to leave Gaza for Egypt. Egyptian officials require $5,000 to $10,000 USD for every family member, a number frequently fluctuating. Shahd’s family consists of herself, two brothers, one sister, and her mother. Once in Egypt, her mother will no longer be able to receive her salary. Funds will be used to help escape and resettle while the family finds a new source of income.

Help Ula escape Gaza

Summary: Ula ElHindi is a Palestinian feminist activist who has dedicated her life to fighting for peace and women's rights in the Gaza Strip. She needs $7,000 USD to escape to Egypt and leftover funds will be used for relocation and necessities.

Help us evacuate our family out of Gaza

Summary: Awesta and a few of her family members escaped to Egypt as the genocide began, but her brother, his wife, and his children, Hamdi (11), Hala (9), and Amir (3), have been stuck, along with her parents, her father which has a heart condition and is running low on medication. In total, Awesta needs money to help six people escape to her. Hamdi, Hala, Amir, their mother, father, and grandfather out of Gaza. She plans to show receipts of where the money is spent as it comes in.

Emergency: Help Sukar’s family get out of Gaza

Summary: Fundraiser on behalf of a family in Gaza trying to cross into Egypt. They are a family of 7 and are comprised of 2 elderly parents, two young men, a young girl, and a set of twin boys under the age of 18. For them to get through the border, it will cost around $7,500-8,000 USD (10,000-11,000 CAD) per person. Currently, they are waiting for a registry list to open so they can sign up to leave. It’s a little difficult because there are people who are scamming Gazans out of their money.

Help Yousef escape Gaza and treat his cancer

Summary: Youseff Abu Saeed is a photojournalist from Gaza. He has cancer and only began chemo briefly before the genocide. His cancer has a recovery rate of 95%, but with a bombed home and spotty access to chemo for over 100 days, he is suffering. Funds will go to him and his family escaping Gaza and to fund his treatment.

Rescue the Tanani family from the Gaza War

Summary: Ali Tanani is trying to save the rest of his family from Gaza. Though he has the ability to leave, his wife, who is nine months pregnant, and their children are not. Him and his friends have broken down costs to the following: Legal Fees from immigration attorney, Administrative and consulting fees, US Customs and USCIS filing and priorty fees, Petition to Michigan Congress and other outreach efforts, Transportation out of Gaza and into safe zone, Medical care, Temporary lodging, shelter and food supplies, and income loss results in them needing $52,980 USD

Safe Passage for Nadin

Summary: Nadin is a young girl who, from age 10, she was 10, has fought for Palestinian rights and she got a special title from the International Commission to Support Palestinian Rights (ICSPR). All funds will go to helping her and her family of 8, including her father who was brutalized by occupiers, finding refuge in Egypt and money to help them start anew.

Follow Nadin @/nadinabdullatif on Insta

Supporting Mohammed

Summary: Mohammed, affectionately called Mo, left his home in Australia last year to spend time with his family in Palestine. His plan was to stay a few years, get a job on an NGO and give back to his community. However, his plans were stopped on October 7. Mo is the current caregiver to his elderly parents, who he thankfully able to help evacuate to Australia. However, much of his family, including his siblings, remain stuck. He and his families are still in shock and are overwhelmed. All money will go to helping his family escape.

URGENT EVACUATE: GazaWar Destroyed My Family Again

Summary: Hasan Alaloul is currently trying to raise money for him and his family in Gaza escape. They have been suffering since 2021, where they were previously attacked by Israeli forces. His father, Dr Mooein Al-Aloul الله يرحمه , and his mother and little sister were also seriously injured. Their house was finished being rebuilt only six months before October 7, 2023. The funds will be used for travel through the Rafah border crossing to Egypt and essential needs such as temporary housing, food, medical care and basic necessities for his family until they can establish a more stable situation where we can begin the process of rebuilding their shattered lives again.

URGENT: Evacuate My Diabetic Kid Out of GAZA WAR

Summary: Mariam is a wife and mother of three children, one of whom is a 7-year diabetic kid. Her twin children are also two years old are also deprived of diapers, milk, and medical check-ups, drugs, and clean water and food. Kenan, the diabetic child, dreams of being a scientist, but is currently beyond suffering. Funds will be used to help Mariam, her husband, and her children cross the Rafah/Egypt border, which she needs $8,000 USD each, visas, passport fees, airplane flights, and basic living costs for six months, including Kenan’s insulin.

URGENT: HELP US ESCAPE GAZA & STAY ALIVE!

Summary: Dr. Nusaiba fawzi Abu Mustafa is a 24 year old on an internship MD from Gaza. However, she had to stop her studies due to the genocide. Her and her family, including 4 girls, two children, and a 92 year old grandmother, are currently very near the Egyptian border. $5,000 are needed for them to cross. All funds will go to that.

Urgent: Help My Family Escape War in Gaza

Summary: Bahaa Alsawalhi is a Gazan and a current master's student in Medical Systems Engineering in Germany. He needs help with funds to help his family of 15 escape to him. His family has been separated to different refugee camps and are desperate to reunite. Their homes are bombed. They are married with children and pets they deeply love. $80,000 is needed for all of them to obtain a Rafah Crossing permit

This is his Instagram

#rae’s rambles #free palestine #free gaza #Gaza #Palestine #donate #signal boost #boost #important

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incorrectbatfam · 4 months

Note

What do the Goofy Gooners look like .. asking for a friend …

Rob is a tired dad with an inferiority complex. He doesn't put much effort into his appearance because basic hygiene already saps a lot of his energy. He has reddish-brown hair that he keeps short for convenience and doesn't shave as often as he should, so there's always a thin layer of stubble. I picture him to be around 33 but stress makes him look older. He usually wears the same basic t-shirts and cargo pants—a polo would be fancy for him. He's on the underweight side because he frequently skips meals so his kids and Milo have enough. He also has random tattoos scattered over his arms plus one on his leg and neck. They don't mean anything, just dumb stuff he got when he was younger, including a winking emoticon and the Pillsbury doughboy.

Blaise is 26 and you can tell he's a stoner from the get-go. He has dirty blonde hair that he grows out but hardly maintains, and the same level of effort goes for his clothes. He often wears things he finds in dumpsters or thrift stores and chooses comfort over style. His clothes have lots of hidden pockets for lighters, firecrackers, and weapons. He's tall and lanky, which makes living out of Milo's car in the parking lot awkward (Rob offered his apartment but he declined). Similar to Rob, Blaise also has a number of meaningless tattoos plus several piercings. He also plays the guitar and keeps his lucky pick on a necklace.

Kellin is a 20-year-old originally hailing from Thailand. Their assassin parents trained them in gymnastics, martial arts, and various weaponry from a young age in hopes that Kellin would follow in the family's footsteps and join the League of Assassins. That obviously didn't work out and they traveled around as an independent hitman (hitperson?) for a couple years before they landed in Gotham. They're always battle-ready—if they could shower in their assassin uniform they would. They changed their name and keep their hair just long enough to mask their face. They're fluent in English, Thai, Vietnamese, Chinese, and Arabic, but they prefer to let their actions speak for them instead.

Molly is a 25-year-old trans woman who incorporates her jobs as a drug dealer, team strategist, and nightclub DJ in a single look. She has long dark hair dyed with neon streaks but ties it up when fighting. She's not the most formidable combatant but she has basic fighting skills and is very calculative. Her primary weapon is a metal baseball bat, inspired by her favorite anti-hero, Harley Quinn. She also has a belt equipped with her experimental chemicals and smoke pellets. However, she's not allowed to pair up with Blaise on missions because it's an open secret that the two of them can't focus around each other.

Otto is a war veteran and car mechanic around the same age as Alfred, but that's where the similarities end. He's been wearing the same mechanic's uniform for the past four decades, the only differences between then and now being his hair thinning, a couple front teeth falling out, and acquiring a beer gut. His arms are covered in scabs and scars from the job and he's had trouble with his right knee ever since the army. On the surface he seems like a Boomer yelling at kids to get off his lawn, but he's more like a stern but well-intentioned grandpa who is disappointed to see nothing much has changed over the years.

Milo is your standard 15-year-old delinquent. He's slightly small for his age and doesn't pack that big of a punch on his own, but put him behind the wheel and he's a total menace. When he's not driving, he keeps himself stimulated with video games or his collection of keychains (his favorite is purple bat because of his puppy crush on Spoiler). His look is reminiscent of early 2000s skater punks, including a bright red mohawk and his trusty headphones. Everything he owns, minus his car, fits into a single backpack. His weapon, on the rare occasion Rob lets him on the front line, is a batarang he found on the street.

Gene is someone you would never expect to have so many issues because on the outside he looks like an average 40-year-old glasses-wearing office worker. He has short sandy hair and dark circles under his eyes from nightmares. His meds help a lot, but sometimes he's still seen pacing around and muttering to himself. He's not a danger anymore compared to the past, which is why Rob trusts him enough to share an apartment. Gene focuses his nervous energy into his research and tinkering instead, amassing a comedic collection of hyperspecific gadgets.

Mac is basically the guy in the chair. He's 30 and has thick glasses, thick curly brown hair, a thin goatee, and almost exclusively wears flannel. His nails are down to a nub because he bites them when concentrating. He's also often seen with chips or an energy drink in his hands and wears a jailbroken smart watch. Of the team, he has the least physical prowess but the most brain power. He doesn't see combat often but keeps a pistol in case. He turned an old ice cream truck into his home/mobile office so he can plug in anywhere. Like Kellin, he's also not from Gotham, but instead Fawcett City and has a distinct Minnesota accent.

Booker is a 19-year-old Gotham U student and the third member of the team's Glasses Trio. He's an intelligent guy slated to graduate a year early and thus needs his internship credits sooner. He's very polite (albeit a little socially awkward) and puts his best foot forward by coming into work with slacks and fun patterned suspenders even though he doesn't have to. His hair has a slightly uneven fade because his sister insisted on practicing on him for cosmetology school, so he covers it with a fedora. He carries his things in a laptop bag and has an enthusiastic bounce in his step that only newbies would have.

Jackie and Gunner are Rob's 6-year-old twins (Jackie being 8 minutes older) and are the babies of this hodgepodge family. Jackie takes after her late mother with frizzy black hair usually tied in pigtails. She loves wearing pink, reads way above her level, and is a horse girl in that she wants one to stomp on the people she doesn't like. Gunner looks more like his dad, though his hair is a little messier and overgrown. He hates school but loves dirt and monster trucks. Both of them have a troublesome streak but Jackie's a little better at hiding it. They quarrel like siblings do but at the end of the day, they always stick up for each other.

#see previous posts #original character #batman #batfamily #batfam #batman family #dc villains #gotham rogues #dc comics #character idea #character design #headcanon #long post #tw violence mention

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arazialotis · 11 months

Text

Ceilings

Pairing: Dean × Reader

Word Count: About 3700

Summary: The reader is finishing up a hunt and is hesitant to head back home. Inspired by the song Ceilings by Lizzy McAlpine.

Warnings: Mild Smut, Angst, Grief/Mourning, Season 15 Spoilers

This is purely for a hobby and my enjoyment. Maybe some of you will enjoy it too. I am by no means a writer so I apologize in advance for any mistakes or grammatical/spelling errors. I appreciate any feedback or suggestions!

---

The brown spot in the corner of the ceiling held your attention. What had once been a pristine and ornate building had since fallen into a state of disrepair over the decades. The plaster moldings reminded you of art deco, and the crown cornices on the border showed a level of craftmanship barely found in today's practices. Yet, from years of neglect and lousy state budgets, necessary upkeep and repairs had long since been postponed. As a result, moldings had crumbled, cracks ran up the wall and into the ceiling like tree branches reaching for the sun, and that brown spot now grew wet with condensation as you watched it gather in the middle. The drop was near heavy enough that at any moment, it would fall. The sheriff would have to situate his trash can under it if this rain was to keep up or grow any heavier.

Dean cleared his throat and, from the matching red leather chair beside yours, nudged your knee with his, effectively breaking your concentration. A warm smile grew as he longing looked at you. His suit coordinated well with yours, navy blue and a green tie that failed to compete with his eyes. You felt a flush crawl into your cheeks, and you pinched your lips together, mixed emotions welling up.

"I still can't believe it," Sherrif Cadwell huffed, signing off on the last of his forms. "If I hadn't been there with you, seen it with my own eyes."

If you had to guess, he was younger than your typical run-ins with sheriffs, early to mid-thirties. But the optimism for growth and change for his township and the system at large clothed him in a juvenile naivety. Additionally, you couldn't deny the fact that he was attractive. His eyes shone like stars in the night sky, his nose was slightly crooked (you learned during your time on the case together) from a bar brawl he was the cause of during his college years, and his lips were full, the kind that would feel plush against your most sensitive spots. You couldn't help but squirm in your chair, but you could feel Dean take notice as his gaze traveled over you.

He continued. "Honestly, I still feel like I need to check myself into a psych ward."

Your chuckle drew his gaze from the papers. "Even after years in the business, I feel the same way. Someday I might grow used to it."

"Well, I couldn't have done it without you, Agent Steinhardt. Thank you again." He conveyed with the utmost sincerity.

Your smile filled the room full of sunshine on this rainy day. "I think we are past the pretense of FBI and aliases now."

His demeanor matched yours. "I'm not convinced. I know an X-files agent when I see one."

"If you ever do cross Mulder or Scully, put in a good word for me. But seriously though, if anything," You struggled to find the right words. "Out of the ordinary comes across your path again; the number on that business card will ring true."

"And is that number good for ordinary things as well? Say, uh, dinner or drinks before you head out of town?" He sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck.

You looked down at your feet to conceal a blush. It wasn't the first time someone had made a pass at you on a job, but Sherrif Cadwell was the first to stir up this reaction. You took a deep breath and recomposed yourself. You could feel Dean's eyes burning against you, analyzing each move, every reaction. His finger sat against his lips, silencing himself, waiting for your response.

A pit formed in your stomach. "While I'm truly flattered, Zack," You paused, the words caught in your throat. "My heart belongs to someone else."

You looked to Dean, but he remained the same, piecing a puzzle together, trying to communicate something unspoken. Despite your interest in Sherrif Cadwell, nothing compared to the energy and the swell of your heart while looking at him.

"I understand. It wasn't my place anyways, but I knew I'd be kicking myself in the ass later if I didn't take a shot." His bashfulness and sensitivity tugged at the strings of your heart, making it even harder to turn him down. "Whoever he is better know how lucky he is."

"He knows." Dean's voice was a warm whisper that barely registered.

The sheriff stood, signifying the end of the meeting; you rose as well, the old chair groaning as you did. Zack extended his hand over his desk, and you accepted, shaking it.

"It was a pleasure." He ended.

Upon leaving his office, the single room spilled into a once grand hall with polished mosaic tiles and pillars that supported high arched ceilings. The sheriff's department was small, consisting of three other staff. Their open office was bordered by low wood paneling, separating them from the other departments this building housed; the drain commissioner, mayor, parks and recreation, to name a few.

You were at the gate that you could probably step over when Sherrif Cadwell called after you.

"Hey!" His steps were heavy as he rushed to catch you. "You forgot this."

Zack held up one of your many homemade EMF meters. It was still switched on, barely crackling static as it scanned the area. No pitches squealed, or lights flared. You took it from him, switched it off, then threw it back. He caught it with ease.

"Keep it." You instructed. "It could come in handy."

A few more thanks and pleasantries were exchanged, but eventually, you found your way to the main lobby. The rain pounded like crescendoing drums against the roof. An employee who entered the building through revolving wooden doors lowered their umbrella, shaking off the rain droplets before leaning it against a coat rack. You had lacked the foresight.

"We could just swipe that one," Dean remarked.

A faint smile accompanied the short huff of an uncomplete laugh. Not entertaining the thought further, you pushed through the revolving doors requiring more exertion than anticipated. Immediately out of the building, you were drenched. You didn't stand a chance. The marble steps lead down to the street and across to a park that might be a nice place for employees to lunch, given lighter weather. That Impala waited for you, parked just a few paces away at a meter. You looked up to the sky, blinking away the rain that fell into your eyes. You hoped for a break in the clouds, even a thin patch where the glow of the sun hinted that it still existed.

"Y/N," Dean feigned impatience, but you could hear the amusement in his voice. "Let's go."

You looked at him longingly. He was your sun and your storm.

"What?" He questioned. "What? Oh, don't get all romantic on me now. You wanna dance in the rain? This isn't a Gene Kelly movie."

Your lips pinched together, holding your breath as he stepped closer to you, his radiance not hindered in the slightest by the downpour. His begrudging attitude melted to tenderness as he took your hands in his. Goosebumps prickled up your skin as the space between you closed. And then he spun you around like a leaf dancing with the wind. Laughter finally consumed you as you ran to the Impala. The keys jingled in your hand, and the hastiness of escaping the rain caused you to fumble with the lock.

The door creaked open as you found refuge inside. Your shallow breaths quickly fogged up the windows.

"Fantastic," Dean said dryly. "This is great for the upholstery."

You shimmied out of your jacket, and Dean's sarcasm vanished at the sight of your soaked white blouse now clinging to the peaks of your breast. The sheer fabric revealed the outline of the bra underneath, yet even that barrier did not hide how the chill of the rain had affected you. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw him swallow a lump in his throat. You fished for your heels, throwing the shoes in the back seat along with the jacket.

"You could have said yes," Dean whispered. "To the sheriff."

You gripped the steering wheel tight, staring blankly ahead as a pit knotted in your stomach.

The words that left you were barely audible. "I didn't want to."

The car's bench squelched under your weight as you shifted, and he drew in from the passenger seat. "Why not?"

A sharpness caught in your throat. Your eyes drifted to his; every detail, from the gold hidden in the forest of his irises to the freckles that dusted his face to the faded scar just above the bow of his lips, was perfect.

Your voice caught, but it still came out in an echo. "You know why."

Dean inhaled sharply, his eyes lingered on your face, only once looking back down at your blouse. He searched for permission, and when he was met with no resistance, his hand snaked behind you and into your hair, guiding your lips to his. Although there was a hunger present, his kiss was soft like clouds. Not the clouds above currently carrying the storm, but pillowy white clouds scattered on a summer's day. A delicate moan escaped your lips and into his, craving more, to which he took every advantage of your parted mouth. The fog layered thicker onto the glass windows, and you'd have to turn on the defroster before driving away.

Your heart pounded against the cage of your chest as you parted, never wanting to end the moment. As you turned the key, the engine sputtered to life with a rumble of thunder. It sat idle, and the warm air began to erase the remnants of your breath away. But even as it became clear enough to drive, you sat unmoving. The rolling of the engine and the patter of the rain were the only sounds. Dean lounged against the passenger door; one arm outstretched on the top of the bench, the other brushing the stubble against his jaw. His boosted confidence apparent from what had been shared seconds before.

He grew impatient, waiting for your next move. "Are you heading home?"

Your sharp inhale was the only response.

He turned it over in his head. "It's late enough, and we could afford an extra night."

Your toes curled in anticipation, hoping for ulterior motives behind his statement.

By the time you arrived back at the motel, the room had been cleaned. It was a simple establishment, but the family who owned it poured their souls into keeping it welcoming and updated. The bedsheets were crisp from a recent laundering, and they smelled not like the fake cheap lilac fragrance most cleaners were filled with, but real, fresh lilacs just beginning to open on a bright spring day. The tulle curtains swayed in front of the open window. There was no fear of the world outside peering in; the motel was near vacant, and the storm would drown out any sounds from within.

From Dean's outbursts to his impulsivity, one would think that would translate to a fierce and forceful lover. Of course, he could be in the heat of the moment, but that was not his default. Instead, he was tender and giving and took his time, extending precious moments to last deep into the night.

Seeing you now, wringing your hair with a towel and the wet clothes hung to dry, he restrained himself. The only sign of hunger in his eyes, the way he drank you in, and the flick of his tongue over his lips. He closed the gap between you. Goosebumps prickled on your bare skin from the chill carried on his damp clothes. His hands hovered over your shoulders, electricity sparking in the space between.

Your hands trailed up his chest, your breath shaking as you did. Your hands reached his tie and loosened the knot before snaking it around the nape of his neck and letting it fall to the floor. Continuing their journey, your hands moved to his shoulders. A small chuckle flew from both of you as you clumsily attempted and failed to remove his jacket. He helped you along by shrugging out of it. Next were the buttons of his dress shirt that went more slowly. Dean stared down at you in admiration as you carefully undid each one.

When he was finally fully free, your breath caught gating your emotions, and you met his eyes again. Dean guided you down to the bed, and you landed gently on the down-feathered comforter. His lips showered your neck in kisses as intimate as the sweet hymns whispered from Orpheus to Eurydice. His eyelashes against your cheeks felt like wisps of the wind carrying with it the song of chickadees.

Bracing himself with one hand above your head and the other gliding against your waist to steady both of you, you granted him passage to paradise. The praises and moans were as delicate as the rest of the encounter. Attentive to every reaction and response, he composed his movements into a soothing melody. Dean took your hand in his; the other left your waist as he fisted the sheets in his palm. Your souls entwined together, locking for all eternity. The drop ceiling with beige vinyl tiles stared down at you. You squeezed your eyes shut, and your free hand drifted down to your apex to help reach release.

Long into the night, when it was over, Dean laid on his back, panting to settle both his breath and his heart. You laid on your side, intently studying the curves and angles of his body. With a final deep breath, he found balance. The sheets rustled as he turned to meet your gaze. His brow furrowed, unable to read you.

"Sweetheart. What is it?" His asked.

You couldn't muster the words and shook your head no. He drew you into him, cradling you. Safe in the cocoon of the sheets and his arms, you breathed in, trying to capture his faint scent competing with the lilac. Juniper and eucalyptus. Or was it cedar and sage? You couldn't recall and drew in deeper.

"Don't leave me." You whispered into his chest.

"Never." He promised.

---

Sunlight poured into the room. The brightness disrupted a pleasant dream. Birds chirped and splashed in the pools of puddles outside the window. Your eyes blinked open, no longer able to grasp the dream. Where Dean was supposed to be was cold and empty. The sheets crinkled as you reached over, searching for him.

Your hair was brushed aside as a peck greeted your temple from above. "Time to get up, sleepy." His voice much deeper than when he called out your name last night.

A whine was all you could conjure. You pulled the comforter over your head, hoping it would cave you into darkness and hide you from the day. You wished to stay in the relief of sleep forever. Dean's footsteps grew farther away.

"I'll head back without ya." Dean teasingly threatened.

So much for promises.

---

It was silent on the road home. There was no music, no words exchanged, only the constant rumble of the engine. The roads were eerily empty, and all that surrounded you were yellow fields of wheat and corn ready for harvest. The flatness of the plains stretched incessantly as if you were caught in an endless loop, never to arrive at your destination. The steering wheel was cold in your hands, and the Impala complained when you accelerated. Perhaps louder than normal, and it felt like you had to push harder, almost like tar had built up in the interior. She certainly needed a tune-up once you got back to the bunker. Dean stared out the passenger window, his knuckles brushing lazily over his lips, watching the rows and rows and rows of fields go by. Lost in a thought that he wasn't going to share and you wouldn't ask about.

A sign welcoming travelers to Kansas signaled the growing end to your journey. Your breath shuttered. Dean's eyes glanced at you, but you refused to acknowledge him. Like a toddler testing boundaries, he nudged your knee with his. A gesture that normally would cause a blush to rise, fondness to grow instead stirred up panic. Your knuckles grew white, gripping the steering wheel. Fifteen minutes out from Lebanon, a cry escaped your lips. Dean saw then tears had started to stream down your face. You pinched your mouth closed, ashamed of losing control. Dean shifted towards you, his arm resting over the bench. His hand drew up your neck to the base of your head, massaging small circles.

"Shhh." He cooed. "It's okay. It's going to be okay." He repeated the mantra to calm you.

You finally broke on your way through town—the whimpering and shaking breaths held back for no one. Dean held the nape of your neck in his hand but had ceased movement, staring ahead as you drove closer to the bunker, praying you could maintain control of the Impala despite your state. He could no longer provide you comfort.

Pulling into the garage, you parked the car but didn't have the strength to shut it off. So it sat there running idle. Your growing pain manifested into sobs and wails. Dean pulled you in, his arms wrapping around you. You clung to his shirt as if he would vanish at any moment.

"I can't do this without you." You sobbed into nothingness.

He pulled you back, his eyes raking over you almost to see if you had been injured. "What are you talking about? I'm right here, Y/N. I will always be right here."

He placed his hand over your heart as if taking pulse and then against your cheek. You squeezed your eyes shut, leaning against his soft touch. His thumb brushed away a tear from your cheek, but more kept coming. His soft lips hovered over yours, but the taste of the bitter ocean was too distracting to claim the solace he offered.

The Impala sighed as she was granted permission to rest. The engine clattered as it began to cool. You curled into yourself, lying on the bench with your knees tucked into your chest. Her tin roof sheltered you, and the tan upholstery above yearned to blanket you, for she too, wept.

---

Miracle was under the table in the library, curled up around Sam's feet as he typed away on his laptop, consulting a few reference books now and then. Aside from the clicking of the computer keys, the bunker was silent. Sam's hair was tied back in a half-bun, a new style for him, but it concealed the unkemptness better. His tired eyes checked the cell phone, scrolling to your number but hesitating not to let worry get the best of him.

Miracle's ears perked up, and his collar jingled as he lifted his head, catching the sound of a door that opened as silently as possible, like an intruder not wanting to get caught. A whisper between a bark and a ruff huffed out as he alerted Sam of the sound of friend or foe; to Miracle, it was still to be determined.

Sam reached down and scratched behind Miracle's ear reassuringly. "Who is it, boy?" He exaggerated the enthusiasm of his voice. "Go get her."

Miracle barked louder this time as he stood, his tail half wagging. Sam continued to encourage him along. The clatter of claws echoed against the concrete as Miracle finally took the initiative to investigate for himself. Sam waited for you and Miracle to return to the library, and he waited some more, but soon he found himself wandering the halls, hoping to check up on you.

You stood on the threshold of your old room. Everything was in place just as Dean had left it. The bed was neatly made, the weaponry displayed on the mantel, and the few touches you added. You couldn't bear to remove your items from the room but couldn't bear to sleep there either. Miracle sat patiently at your side, his tail thumping against the ground. He pawed at your leg, and you half-heartedly ran your fingers over his soft fur. Miracle nudged you further, hoping for more effort, but was happy to receive any amount of attention. Your duffle fell at your side; unpacking would halve to wait until tomorrow. All that had happened in this room replayed in your memory.

"Hey," Sam called from down the hall. You had been near radio-silent; he was anxious for an update, but more importantly, how you were holding up. "How'd the hunt turn out?

When he reached you, his brow furrowed, and his features dropped. Your eyes were red, and your cheeks were puffy. Even without the sniffle topping it off, it was obvious you had been crying.

"What happened?" He asked. "Are you hurt?"

The levees you had forced up to walk back in here broke yet again. So many tears had been wept it was impossible to believe more would come, but they did. They poured out.

"Oh, Y/N," Sam's voice shuttered.

He grabbed you by the arm, forcing you against himself. His solid frame anchored you and held you so tightly it almost hurt. Sam was the only rock you had left to stand against the pounding waves. Your cries of anguish muffled into his flannel. Sam had thought he, too, had run out of tears to cry, yet holding you in your shared pain caused his eyes to well up. He tucked your head under his chin, hoping to provide you comfort, and protection, and peace like a hen gathering chicks under her wings. For what seemed like an eternity, you held each other there, sharing and spilling tears until you were too exhausted to shed any more.

Your voice was worn and hoarse, but you had to ask, desperate for a ray of hope. "Will it ever stop hurting?"

Sam sighed. "I don't know." He answered honestly.

And you didn't even know if you wanted it to. The pain, the loss, the grief, it made Dean real. It meant your time together on this earth had meant something. And the memories, the visions, imaging he was still with you, though they burned, they let him live on.

You buried yourself further into Sam. "I miss him so much."

"Me too, Y/N. Me too."

---

#dean winchester #dean x y/n #dean x reader #dean x you #supernatural #spn fanfiction #spnfandom

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thatsmzbitchtoyou · 14 days

Text

The Temptation Chapter 1

Here's the Priest!Bucky fic! I hope y'all like it. Warnings: eventual smut; religion (yes it's a warning); mentions of past sexual assault

“Father Barnes, I have some unfortunate news.”

Bucky turned towards his senior priest, Father Richards. “Yes?”

“Constance Y/L/N has just passed away.”

“Oh,” Bucky’s eyebrows furrowed as he processed the news. “How sad. I mean, she was getting up there in age but, still, a great loss.”

“Yes, it is. Her funeral arrangements will be handled by her granddaughter, Y/N Y/L/N. She should be landing into town tomorrow, I was hoping you would be willing to pick her up at the airport and bring her to Constance’s home, then schedule a meeting about the arrangements and the service?”

“Of course, Father.”

That’s where Bucky found himself now, waiting in the baggage claim area of the airport with a sign in his hand that had her name written on it. He had no idea what she looked like or knew anything about her. As he looked around, waiting patiently, a woman came through the door that made him do a double take. She was beautiful, short and curvy, dressed in a long black dress that she kept stepping on, covered by an oversized, long, black and ripped sweatshirt that read “WOMEN RUN SHIT” in red embroidery, Converse sneakers that peeked from under her dress, with long pointy nails and her pink hair piled atop her head, held up by a black scarf. She had very little makeup on except for a dark, blood red lipstick that Bucky couldn’t seem to stop staring at. She looked around until her eyes fell on Bucky, read the sign, and gave him a polite smile as she headed towards him. Bucky gave her a polite smile back as he tried to hide the panic he was feeling inside.

“Father Barnes?” Y/N asked as she approached him.

“Yes, Y/N Y/L/N?”

“That’s me,” she flashed him a full smile, making her teeth look stark against her lipstick.

“Is this all you have?” Bucky asked, looking at the purse and backpack slung over her shoulders and the large rolling suitcase she had.

“Yep, don’t have much. Thank you for the ride. I haven’t been to Brooklyn since I was a kid and I just didn’t wanna deal with the hassle of a taxi or Uber.”

“It’s no problem.”

Bucky tried hard to not stare at her or even look at her too much. He had been a priest at his parish for 15 years, and had never had a moment where he felt like he was being led astray, like he’d always been warned about during his seminary years. He felt secure in his promises and covenants to the church and to God. And yet here was this woman, who just waltzed into his life on a chance, who he was feeling something very strange towards that made him question his life. And he didn’t even know her. Sinful.

“So what do you do for a living?” Bucky tried to break the ice as he drove silently, weaving through the New York traffic as best as he could.

“I’m a traveling photographer,” Y/N said as she watched the buildings and bridges fly by.

“Really? That’s interesting. How did you get into that?” he asked.

“Um, it just kinda fell into my lap, I guess,” Y/N answered, giving him a glance. “I grew up in Brooklyn, went to the church and everything with my grandmother, but at 16 I decided it wasn’t for me and went through a bit of a rough patch for a while. Started taking pictures as I went from place to place, posting online, and gained a following. Here I am, 16 years later, getting paid to go places and take pictures and give travel advice.”

“Wow,” Bucky breathed. “Where’s your favorite place you’ve been?

“Well, traveling as a plus sized person has its challenges,” she started, shifting in her seat. “The place that I felt most comfortable was the Leeward Islands, so Bora Bora, Tahiti, those areas of French Polynesia.”

“Very tropical,” Bucky commented.

“Ha, yes,” she giggled. “A big reason why I loved it.” She paused and looked at him. “Have you ever been on a beach like that?”

“No,” Bucky answered. “A beach at a lake when I was a kid, but nothing quite as pretty as crystal blue waters,” he glanced at her, giving her a lopsided smile.

“Hm,” Y/N watched him, a sad expression flitting across her face. “That’s too bad. There’s really nothing like it.” She paused again, a mischievous grin pulling at her lips. “A pretty thing like you on a sandy beach in Bora Bora would do wonders with the locals.”

Bucky’s eyes widened at her compliment. He cleared his throat and swallowed as he tried to relax the blush that filled his cheeks. “Thank you for the compliment.”

“Anytime, handsome,” she teased him, huffing out a laugh at his expense.

Bucky wasn’t blind to the fact that he had attractive features. He’d been hit on too many times to count by the women, and some of the men, in his congregation throughout the years. Some tried harder than others, the idea of a forbidden love or lust-driven “corrupting the priest” sounding appealing. He’d been able to squash those easily. He could of course see or recognize when people were attractive, and occasionally had the fleeting thought of “what if?” But it sounded different coming from her for some reason.

“I mean really, if the priests looked like you when I was in church I would have paid more attention.”

She said it in such a deadpan tone that Bucky couldn’t help but to fully laugh. She joined him in laughing as they finally pulled up to her grandmother’s brownstone home. Bucky helped her hoist her large luggage up the stairs. Y/N grabbed the key from the hidden spot that the estate lawyer had told her about and let herself and Bucky in. She wheeled the luggage off to the side as she looked around the foyer.

“Almost exactly the same,” she muttered.

“Y/N–”

“You know, it’s just very strange for me to call you Father,” Y/N interrupted him as she whirled around to face him. “What’s your first name?”

Bucky’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh, um, it’s James, but I always went by Bucky.”

“Bucky?” Y/N repeated it, looking confused.

Bucky silently reveled in how she said his name. “My middle name is Buchanan, don’t ask me why,” he joked, making her snort. “Bucky for short. I just always went by that rather than James when I was younger.”

“Well is it alright if I call you Bucky?” Y/N asked hopefully.

Bucky really should have said no, that it’s not appropriate for people to call him by his name rather than his title. Yet he found himself saying, “Yes.”

“Great. I’m sorry I interrupted you, what were you going to say?”

“Well, my senior priest, Father Richards and I would like to set up a meeting with you to go over the funeral arrangements. When would you like to do that?”

“Sure, um…” Y/N got distracted by something in the foyer. Bucky followed her eye line to the large cross her grandmother had mounted above the door. She sighed heavily before meeting his gaze. “How about tomorrow? 10 a.m.?”

“That sounds great,” Bucky agreed. “Well, is there anything else I could help you with while I’m here?”

“No, thank you. You’ve been very helpful,” Y/N gave him a tight lipped smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Great, see you then.” Bucky turned away and out the door, unable to handle being in such a close space with her anymore.

As he got back into the parish car and drove back to the church he heaved a heavy sigh of his own. This is going to be dangerous.

***

The next morning Bucky found himself taking more time to get ready. He was trimming his beard, redoing his hair in a bun and repeatedly straightening out his Roman collar and his shirt. He knew why he was doing it but was in deep denial.

Father Richards was waiting in the main office as Bucky went out to the sanctuary to see if Y/N had shown up yet. When he walked in he easily found her sitting on one of the pews. Today she wore a long, fluffy cardigan with a sports bra and flowy lounge pants. She wore no makeup and her hair looked like she’d just rolled out of bed.

“Good morning, Y/N,” Bucky greeted her as he approached.

Y/N was staring at the large cross at the front of the sanctuary with the statue of Jesus hanging on it. Her eyes slowly turned to him, a frown on her face that she tried to hide quickly.

“Good morning, Bucky,” she greeted him, her voice sounding scratchy. “I’m sorry I look a mess, the jet lag is making me feel rough.”

“I understand, it’s alright,” Bucky gestured for her to follow him.

He led her back into the hallways of the church until they reached the main priest’s office. Y/N paused for a moment outside the office door as Bucky held it open for her, before she inhaled quickly and stepped through the door.

“Miss Y/L/N, my name is Father Richards,” Richards held his hand out, which she stiffly shook. “I’m sorry we couldn’t meet under more pleasant circumstances. May I offer my deepest condolences to you.”

“Thank you,” Y/N said somberly. She sat on the chair in front of the large wooden desk. Her eyes settled on one scuffed spot on the desk as Father Richards and Bucky sat across from her.

“So, let’s get started,” Father Richards began. “I’m sure you know your grandmother was a big supporter of the church. She gave us some of our largest donations over her lifetime. She had some instructions she left with me but I wanted to make sure everything sounded good to you before I enacted them, or if there was something left in her will that I wasn’t aware of?”

“The will and everything else is stuck in probate court right now,” Y/N answered, her tired eyes trying to focus on him. “So honestly, whatever she told you is fine. Doesn’t really matter to me.”

“I see,” Father Richards said, sounding a little annoyed. Bucky glanced at him.

“Please don’t mistake my indifference for not caring,” Y/N retorted. “I loved my grandmother, I just didn’t love her religion. And that caused a rift between us. I haven’t seen or spoken to her in years, so I was pretty surprised when I got a call from a lawyer in New York telling me she’d died and left me everything,” she continued, her words getting more curt by the second. “No offense to either of you but me being here is highly triggering. So is there anything else you need from me?”

“Uh, yes,” Richards tried to recover the conversation, his tone sounding more jovial. “She did ask that you sing at her funeral.”

“Absolutely not,” Y/N spat, her eyes narrowing as she minutely shook her head.

“Oh, well, I mean that’s what she wrote here–”

“No.”

Bucky watched on in concern. He knew the church came with a lot of baggage for some people, that its history was unclean. He worried about what this would mean for them as she worked with them for this funeral.

“Hm, of course you don’t have to, but she always said how you had a lovely singing voice–”

“I said no,” she seethed. “Now if you’ll excuse me,” she stood suddenly, Bucky and Father Richards copying her. “I need to go. Just call me if you need something else.” She rummaged into her cardigan pocket, pulling out a wallet and taking out a business card, flinging it at them on the desk. “Good day.”

She turned on her heel and hightailed it out of the office. Father Richards and Bucky exchanged a bewildered look. “Go,” Father Richards instructed.

Bucky jogged out of the office to catch up to Y/N. “Y/N, please wait!”

Y/N sighed loudly as she turned back around to Bucky. “I’m sorry for my rudeness, I just can’t stay here,” she said, continuing to walk away.

“Hey,” he jogged around her until he faced her. “Obviously there’s some deep problems you have with the church.”

“No shit Sherlock,” she dodged him, heading towards the front doors.

“And I don’t blame you!” Bucky walked alongside her. “There have been bad things that have happened in its history.”

Y/N stopped abruptly as she rounded on him. “To ME!” she pointed a finger towards herself. Bucky stopped, his eyes widening at her. She was shaking as she tried to calm herself. She took a deep breath and a step back from him. “I appreciate that the church has given you comfort, peace, a purpose maybe, but I grew up here,” she paused, stopping herself from crying. “Father Carmine was here before you two, right?” Bucky nodded his head slowly as he watched her. “He hurt me.”

Bucky felt his heart plummet. He had met Father Carmine many years ago as he and Father Richards were transferred in to replace him. He had had an amazing rapport with the community, his congregation seemed to love him. Now Bucky knew the reason for his sudden retirement.

Y/N scoffed. “That notch on the desk? In the office? That’s from the heel of my shoe,” she took a step closer to him as she peered up at him, a fury in her eyes that made him feel like withering on the spot. “My Mary Jane shoes, from my school uniform, when I was 15 years old.” Bucky felt like he was going to throw up as he digested this information. “So you’ll have to excuse me, if coming here to the place where I was abused and then unbelieved by the woman who raised me who I now have to bury, is dredging up some pretty raw emotions in me right now.” Y/N was whispering now, her eyes filling with tears as she glared at him. “Every cross, every Jesus statue, every rosary, every goddamn Roman collar,” her eyes flickered to his neck, “reminds me of that day. So the fact that my grandmother was willing to still hold her funeral here in this godforsaken place, and then have the audacity to throw her money at me and ask me to sing?” Y/N shivered violently as she grunted. “I can’t…”

Bucky didn’t know what to do as he watched her fight off an oncoming panic attack. “Y/N, hey…look,” he started to take off his Roman collar. She watched him hesitantly. “See? Look, just me. Not Father Barnes, not Father anything, just Bucky.” He held his hands up towards her in a sign of meaning no harm. “Constance was extremely devout, for sure,” Y/N scoffed again, rolling her eyes. “But that was no excuse for her not to believe you,” he took a step forward. Y/N’s eyes narrowed at him. “You deserved to be believed. You deserved justice, and you never got it. I’m so sorry,” he took another step until he could reach out and hold her arms. He lowered his face so he was eye level with her. “I’m so sorry for what happened to you. You didn’t deserve it, no one deserves that.” Y/N’s tears finally fell as she shook in his hands. “And I’m sorry for Father Richards pushing you, he’s a very…no nonsense, regimented kind of guy. But he should have taken your refusal the first time.” He squeezed her arms and she took a shaky breath. “We’ll follow her instructions, get through the funeral, and then you can be done with this place. And go enjoy a long vacation on a beach in Bora Bora for me.”

Y/N laughed at that, her smile finally breaking the sadness etched in her face. She wiped her eyes as Bucky dropped his hands from her. He felt like his palms were stinging from the sensation of touching her. “Thank you, Bucky,” she sniffed.

“No problem,” he smiled at her. “I know this isn’t a great place for you, but I hope you know that I believe you, and I’m here for you.”

Y/N gave him a long look, her eyes roaming his face momentarily. She nodded and turned to leave, then suddenly turned back around and walked up to him. She wound her arms around his waist and gave him a hug, squeezing him. He barely had a chance to hug her back before she stepped away and walked out of the front doors. Bucky watched her leave, already missing the way she smelled.

**picture if from Pinterest, it's A.I. so there's no "artist" or "creator"**

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes x reader #marvel #smut #priest!bucky barnes x reader #priest!bucky barnes #chapter 1

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fallingforel · 11 months

Note

“Drop the attitude” prompt with frat harry please? x

a/n: sorry for the M.I.A for the past few days have been going to arctic monkeys getting ready for it and getting over it but it's here and I hope you enjoy! As always my blog masterlist is here and this will give you a prompt list and any existing prompts that have already been made, anywhooo lets get on with the show

warnings: cursing, smoking. If there's any others please let me know.

none of my work is proofread, so please let me know of any errors and I will correct them.

words:1,522

in which you're one directions tour manager and Harry's friend with benefits

It was a slow day at work, travelling to the next city. not much was to be done other than making correct calls with the next venue to make sure there was enough space for buses to park round the back and to make sure that there was extra security, which there wasn't. So that made you even more stressed, than you already were trying to make the boys concentrate on what the layout for Tommorow was and whether or not they knew exactly what city they were in, which was hard to do when all they wanted to do was play video games and prank wars on eachother, they were still teenagers so there wasn't a lot you could do to keep them concentrated.

And it was safe to say it was pissing you off to no end, it was really hard to keep teenage boys attention for a matter of minutes before they find something else to do. So you had given up and gone to your bunk to finish the calls off to the appropriate people: one to the boys manager back home as a routine to make sure everything was going smoothly, you had been trusted with taking them from place to place setting up the venue, making sure soundcheck was good making sure none of them were injured; on your own as a 19 year old because you had been given such a good placement year for your second year and you weren't going to let it go at least not yet so you lied the best way you knew how since being in customer service roles since you were 15 had taught you, and you weren't going to let 5 short attention spanned boys let this slip through your fingers.

The other calls you had to make was a breeze, just making sure that extra security had been put in place for the next place you were about to pull into, it was needed for the morning not now as no one was around and you had triple checked.

It didn't take you long to pull into the venue, the other 3 tour buses pulled in and you had gone to check if the stage hands knew what they were doing what time soundcheck was and if they were all prepped before you sent them on your merry way to go and get some rest before heading to the last tour bus which was full of equipment to make sure that nothing had been damaged or lost in transportation to the new venue. After you had gone back outside pulling out a cigarette, because the stress had gotten too much for you, the constant shouting and screaming of the fans as well as the boys.

"you shouldn't smoke it's bad for you, how many times have I told you?" Harry said from behind you, not scaring you because you could hear footsteps getting closer to you. "You really think I care? Besides, your bandmates smoke so what's it to you?" "nothing. Don't care about them like I care about you sweetheart" he says before coming up behind you to hug you which you shrug off, beyond pissed at him for not paying attention to you when it was needed the most. "WOW, you don't even care about us?" Louis pipes up from beside him clearly overhearing what had been said between the two of you. "of course I care about you you dick" is all he says before running off to tussle with his bandmate. "don't care about me though, just a pitiless fuck to you." you say in a quiet whisper. Which unfortunately for you Paul overheard "oh Y/n love are you okay?" is all it takes to get you sobbing, which earns you a hug from Paul.

You two stay like that for god knows how long, "you gonna tell me what's going on kid?" Paul is the first to break the silence you two were in while you finished your cigarette. "It's just all so hard you know? I mean how am I supposed to maintain a career and a boyfriend who I manage as part of that career. Not to mention it is so hard to gain his attention, all the time whether it be just us two to get out our needs or to get the whole bands attention for an opinion on what songs they want to sing that night, or what they want to wear or what they-" Paul cuts you off clearly knowing that you were going to break down again

"yes, it is hard I get that, but what you have to remember is that they are teenage boys who got put into a boyband so young, Harry the youngest, who have never known what it's like to endure this. This is their second time doing this so they haven't got the grasp of it fully. But, they will. As for your's and Harry's relationship, I can't speak on, but what I do know is that you can't juggle both, so it's either, you make it a full time thing between you trying not to blur the line, that is so hard to find, between your jobs and your relationship or you cut ties before one of you gets hurt."

"thanks Paul, you always have such a way with words" Is all you say before he is needed elsewhere and he's giving you a wink and standing up from the curb and leaving you.

Lou, then comes over. "Are you okay, darling? I know how challenging these lot can be trust me, try getting their attention to stay in a chair for an hour there's always one that doesn't want to co-operate but trust me you will find a way y/n" and that got you thinking over ways to make them have your undivided attention, before finally heading back to your designated tour bus bunk to get some shut eye.

when you got into your bunk after getting ready for sleep, Harry was waiting opening the covers for you to clamber in which you didn't instead you turned around going into the back of the bus and settling down into the sofa, it was a few moments until the door burst open and Harry came clambering in and sat on the sofa beside you.

"What the fuck Y/n?"

"get lost Harry, I don't want to speak to you right now. Certainly don't want to be in your proximity, now leave so I can go to bed."

"drop the attitude Y/n, I've been nothing but nice to you these past few days, now tell me what I've done to make you a sour headed bitch today"

"Nothing but nice?" you say with a sarcastic chuckle. "let's see first off you just ignore me when I'm trying to get you to concentrate on your job, figuring out what your wearing if you know where to get on and off the stage, where the stage is. Hell, what fucking city your in. least you could do is answer me when I ask you questions, but instead I'm met with yeahs which doesn't answer my questions it literally doesn't take you that long to answer me. The second thing, what the fuck was that smoking thing, we are not in a relationship so you don't get to talk to me like that. I think we have got the lines blurred between our jobs and our relationship, that we're not even in. so I think it's in our best interest to cut ties while we still can and no one gets hurt, just while I'm here being your tour manager but when I go back to University and you go back on your next tour we can see if something is still there."

"lot to unpack there. Look I promise you, you will have my undivided attention from now on and I will try to get the others to concentrate. as for the smoking thing, I'm sorry. It's just I care about you a fucking whole lot, and yes I shouldn't even have said it especially while we're not even in a relationship, but that's just the thing y/n I wish we were, I hate this friends with benefits it makes me seem just like the womaniser the media portray me and you know how much I hate that image. It fucking kills me that you don't want to continue whatever we have right now, but I understand your doing your job and you don't want to blur anymore lines between us so, I promise you this Y/n, I will wait for you however long it takes for you to come around and back to me, whether that be after you have finished your placement year, while your still our tour manager, when you have graduated from university. However long it may be, I'll be here waiting here for you Baby."

"Thank you Harry. Friends?" you ask with your hand held out as a peace offering for him to shake.

"Friends." he agrees shaking your hand.

#harry styles x y/n #harry styles fic #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #harry styles #one direction #one direction x reader #harry styles angst #harry styles x fem!reader

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roalinda · 3 months

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☆Feedback Fest 2024☆

In honour of International Fanworks day on 15 Febraury ( you can find more info about it HERE by @transformativeworks ) I have decided to make a rec list as well. We should all support our creators with feedback and sharing after all. 😊

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Since this is my Harry Potter side blog, all the fics in my rec list are from Harry Potter.

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On Fire, But We can't feel a thing by @benjamin-ovich

Pairing: Sirius Black/James Potter

Summary: Sirius feels oddly faint, feels like his whole body has turned into vapour and he could just be blown away into nothingness at any moment. Nothing about this has felt real, not when Remus’ head popped into his fireplace after a whole year and not now that he’s telling him that James, his James, won’t remember who he is.

Rating: E

Words: 100, 790 ( In-progress )

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Tell me you love me, come back and haunt me by @gracelesslady23

pairing: James Potter/Sirius Black

Summary: Recently exonerated and looking for a new start, Sirius buys a flat to live in with his godson. However, it soon becomes clear they are not alone in the flat when Sirius begins receiving love messages on the mirrors and walls.

Sirius knows who he hopes is behind the messages, but he couldn’t possibly be right… or could he?

Rating: M

Words: 23,113 ( complete )

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Nom De Plume by @annabtg

Pairing: James Potter/Lily Evans

Summary: James Potter, renowned potioneer, has a secret side career as an erotica writer under the pen name of Scarlett Goldwing. When his latest book starts to take off, and Scarlett is asked to promote it at a public event, he has no other option but to recruit his colleague Lily Evans to pretend to be Scarlett. The only problem is, Lily Evans hates his guts… or does she?

Rating: E

Words: 46, 486 ( complete )

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Supernova by @siriuslyasorceress

pairing: James Potter/Sirius Black

Summary:

From the outside, it may look like James Potter has everything one needs to be happy. An abundance of talent, a prestigious job, a beautiful wife, an adorable child. So why can’t he let go of the past? Why does he still see silver eyes and a crooked smile when he dreams at night?

It's been six years. Six years since Sirius Black left England. He practically ran away from the country and hasn’t stopped running since. When he has to return to parts of his old life, he tries his best not to dwell on the past.

What luck then, that the past is one of the first people he runs into.

- “What, so the French sent a cursed Curse-breaker?”

There is humour in James’ voice, signalling that this isn’t meant to insult, merely falling into the way they always used to talk to each other. It’s almost too easy reciprocate, to answer with banter that still feels too familiar and pulls at Sirius to be released. He bites his tongue.

“I can assure you, cursed or not, I am still excellent at my job, Auror Potter,” he says pointedly.

Rating: M

Words: 73,120 ( in-progress )

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CRuSH by @heartofspells

Pairing: James Potter/Sirius Black

Summary: After travelling around the world as a Healer for four years, Sirius thinks it should be simple to return home to aid his best friend through his divorce. James needs him, and Sirius misses his family. With their history locked away inside dorm room beds and dark corners of a castle once called home, Sirius is determined to move forward, convinced James barely remembers it at all. Attempting to reestablish the friendship they'd always had, Sirius is set on pretending it never happened, at least until he realizes the years away haven't changed the weight of the powerful spell James holds over him.

rating: E

Words: 89, 578 ( in-progress )

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The exchange principle by @charmsandtealeaves

pairing: James Potter/Lily Evans

Summary: Partnering for Advanced Potions has some unexpected side effects when Lily and James wake up in the wrong body.

Rating: M

words: 8,788 ( complete )

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All monsters are human by ColorfulStabwound

Pairing: Teddy Lupin/James Sirius Potter

Summary: Teddy has always belonged to James, everyone knows that.

Rating: M

Words: 15, 274 ( complete)

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Out of my head ( when you are not around ) by quoichiant

Pairing: James Potter/Sirius Black

Summary:

Things are not particularly funny, but when he told Remus that he was going to get over James Potter -- for real this time -- Remus laughed. Because to everybody else, Sirius being in love with James is a fact of the universe.

The Earth turns, the sun rises, and James and Sirius come as a pair. Or Sirius is in love with his best friend, James is late to the party, and Peter is terrible at keeping secrets.

Rating: E

Words: 38, 038 ( In-progress )

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Line without a hook by @strugglequill

Pairing: James Potter/Sirius Black

Summary:

Four weeks, two days, and seven hours have passed since James hugged Sirius goodbye on the Hogwarts Express, a long summer of separation stretching ahead of them. With all of their other methods of contact blocked by Sirius's controlling parents, James shifts from disappointment to panic as a month passes with only silence in their two-way mirrors. Their separation just might kill James - or someone else.

After breaking into Number 12 Grimmauld Place with some hard-won cursebreaking and stolen Floo Powder, James wasn't expecting Sirius to ask him to fulfill a birth prophecy: rebirthing the House of stars with Black blood.

Song fic inspired by "Line Without a Hook" by Ricky Montgomery.

Rating: E

Words: 12, 189 ( complete)

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The host by Mothboss

Relationship: Spirit of Severus Snape and James Sirius Potter

Summary: James Sirius Potter was prepared right out of the gate to follow in the footsteps of his namesakes. The only thing that could likely have deterred him would have to have been one hell of a distraction.

Rating: G

Words: 9,528 ( complete)

#IFD2024 #feedback fest #international fanworks day #ao3 #Fic rec

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queer-irritator · 1 year

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Hello! If you'd like could you write kratos and a m!reader who is an ex-soldier or like used to be a general but had to quit due to an injury

Thank you:)

Hi! Thank you for being my first request 🥹

I really like this idea, you know they would be bonding over the traumas of war.

GoW: Ragnarok Spoilers below. Not proofread

MINORS DNI

Kratos x M! Reader

"I want to thank you for everything..."

Timeline is set a bit after GoW:R; Kratos is an empty-nester.

Content Warnings: Adult language, butchering, most likely inaccurate geography and history of Greenland, alcohol, smut, blowjob, facefucking, praising.

Word Count: 2,476

You lead thousands of men through successful battles.

You saw hundreds of men lay down their lives in the name of freedom.

You would do whatever it takes to ensure victory.

But that was in your past.

A few years ago you honorably discharged from your status of General. After being tortured by some fascist dickheads, you developed hearing problems from ice picks being jammed in your ear. It left you with constant ringing in your head, sometimes so loud you couldn't hear anything else.

You always assumed you would die on the battlefield along side your soldiers. Never thinking about leaving the army or your men behind. But when you could no longer hear footsteps approaching you, or the distant yells from soldiers, you knew your presence would only end up getting others killed. You made sure your men were left being led by the next most capable person.

Since then you've been traveling.

You saw North and South America, Africa, and now you were exploring Europe. Desperate to get a change from the heat, you decided to come in the dead of winter. Now that you were actually here, you regret it a little bit.

You were currently in the north-east, about a two days hike from the ocean. You settled in some woods, you desperately needed to catch some food. You had set up your tent and were adding fuel to a small fire you made. You unpacked a bow and arrow you had in a satchel and started to look for animal tracks.

----

Kratos was butchering a deer he caught earlier that day. His mind was going over how to prepare the meat for dinner.

The faint smell of smoke ripped his attention away from his current task. He looked to the horizon and saw a thin column of smoke splitting the blue sky that was starting to turn purple in two.

He grumbled to himself.

He was hungry, he just wanted to eat and rest. But he couldn't ignore the possibility of a threat. He stuck the knife in his hand into the wooden butcher table he was working on. He bent over to pick up his axe and headed in the direction of the smoke.

----

You were following some rabbit tracks, crouched low to the ground and moving slowly forward. You needed to rely on your eyes more than your ears nowadays, which wasn't as effective. The distant sound of rustling bushes ripped your attention away from the tracks as you aimed your arrow towards the sound.

There was a large a few feet away from you.

"Can I help you?" You questioned the him with sarcasm in your voice.

"You are trespassing in my home." The man had the deepest voice you've ever heard.

You glanced around, you hadn't noticed any signs of this being someone's house. You lowered your bow and stood up.

"I didn't realize. I'm just trying to get some food and sleep, I'll be gone before the sun is up." You explained to him.

Kratos grumbled slightly.

You knew this type of man. He wasn't the type to let things slide, or give a stranger a place to stay. At least without something in return.

"How about you let me stay, and I'll cook you some rabbit." You bargained.

"I have a deer." The man retorted.

Shit... you were going to have to go for the low blow.

"Well, I served as a General for 15 years, but I'm just trying to enjoy retirement now." You were hoping he wouldn't deny an army man a place to spend the night.

"As am I." He crossed his arms.

"No shit?" You questioned him. Maybe you could use this to secure your spot in the woods.

"I was a General for southern Grœnland." You opened up a little bit, hoping the man would return the favor. But you were just met with a blank stare.

"I lead the war against barbarian invaders... What about you?" You prodded at the man.

"Hm..." The man grunted, "I am from a land called Sparta."

"Cool..." You've never heard of such a place, but that was besides the point.

"I'm (y/n)." You took a few steps forward, holding out your arm as a sign of peace.

Kratos looked at your hand for a few moments, then gripped your forearm.

"Kratos." he announced his name as he looked you in the eyes and gave you a nod.

You nodded back to him as you returned your hand to your side.

"You said you have deer..?" You questioned Kratos.

----

Kratos had invited you to eat with him. On the walk to his house you explained that you sucked at hunting because of your ringing ears. He seemed to empathise with you slightly.

Kratos had tasked you with heating up a pan on the fire pit inside his house while he finished butchering the deer.

You couldn't help but notice the extra bed in his home, reasons as to why scattered through your mind.

You were pulled away from your thoughts when the door opened, the outline of Kratos was approaching you. He laid down a few fillets of meat in the pan and lit some candles in the house.

You watched his every movement, admiring the muscles and contours of his back. He grabbed a bottle and two cups. He set them down on a small table in the middle of the cabin and filled two cups with a dark, amber liquid.

You turned your attention to the pan and flipped over the meat, watching it carefully so it didn't burn. Kratos noticed this, he was always taught to be a good host growing up in Sparta.

"Come sit." He instructed you, walking over to the fire and taking over the cooking duties. You nodded at him, stood up and sat at the table. You inspected the liquid in your cup and gave it a sniff.

Alcohol. Very strong alcohol, is what was infiltrating your nostrils. You set the cup down just as Kratos was walking over to the table and served you dinner.

----

The two of you shared stories as your times as General. It was mostly you, at first, but then Kratos started to open up with time. When Kratos spoke, it was like he hypnotized you. All you could do was rotate staring at his eyes, mouth, and chest. He was incredibly handsome. Kratos also didn't let your darting eyes go unnoticed, but neglected to draw attention to it.

Dinner was over all too quickly for your liking. You took the last sip of your drink, feeling some slight effects of the alcohol. Just enough to give you some bravery.

"I want to thank you for everything." You started to speak as you stood up from your seat.

"There is no need..." Kratos assured you, but his eyes followed your every move.

You shook your head slightly, "Wouldn't feel right about taking up your resources without thanks." You made your way Kratos, blood already travelling south by thinking of what you were about to do.

You kneeled down beside Kratos and tugged his chair to the side so he was facing you. Kratos was silent, his amber eyes boring into yours. You reached your hands up to his belt and started to work on taking it off. It was quite a bit more complicated than it looked, but you got it off without too much trouble. You were met with another layer of fabric, gods, why did this man have 5 different layers covering his dick? Your brows furrowed slightly in annoyance at the fabric, but was soon down to just his pants. You looked up at him to gauge how he was feeling, because he wasn't hard... yet.

"This okay?" You asked him, your voice slightly lower than before.

Kratos hadn't been involved with anyone since Faye. He hasn't been involved with another man since his time running around Greece and Athens on a path of vengeance.

He let out a breath, "Yes."

He didn't think he had ever seen a man as breathtaking as you before. Your (h/c) hair made him want to run his hands through it, your (e/c) eyes made him want to get lost in them for days. And your smile, he'd only seen it a handful of times but it made his heart palpitate each time.

With his go-ahead, you pulled his pants down a few inches and wrapped your hand around his cock, taking it out.

Fuck, he was big. You started to stroke him and scooted closer to his crotch. You could feel him start to get hard in your hand, so you mentally prepared yourself and took him in your mouth. You heard Kratos' voice hitch in the slightest when your warm mouth was around him. About half of him fit in your mouth comfortably, but you weren't opposed to slight discomfort.

With one hand you pulled his pants down further so you could have more access. You began to massage his balls softly, earning the quietest moan from the Spartan. His cock was rock hard by now, so you took more of him in your mouth and didn't stop until your lips were met with the tickle of hair. You began to bob your head up and down.

Kratos ran his fingers through your hair with a pleased grunt, gripping onto some of your locks at the back of your head. You moaned around his length from the feeling of your hair being tugged slightly. Kratos stood from his seat and began to rock his hips into your mouth. Your hands went up to grip his thighs and opened your mouth slightly larger. Kratos took this opportunity to slightly tighten his grip on you and began to thrust himself in and out of your mouth. You took him surprisingly well, relaxing your jaw to let him fuck your throat. You looked up at Kratos and he was watching the obscene sight before him. He locked eyes with him and picked up his speed, feeling his orgasm beginning to build up. You took back control by placing your hands on his hips, stilling him. Creating some suction around his cock, you began to bob your head quickly along his length.

When you heard a moan escape Kratos' lips you pulled away from him, out of breath. Kratos only needed a few more seconds and he would have been cumming. He looked down at you with furrowed brows. You stood up and took off your shirt.

"Get on the bed." You instructed him. Your cock was aching from the lack of attention. You watched as Kratos discarded his pants that were around his ankles and walk to his bed, getting a beautiful view of his ass.

"Hands and knees." You clarified for him. A low grumble met your ears as you stripped off the rest of your clothes. You walked towards the bed and took in the beautiful sight of Kratos' ass in the air, waiting for you. You climbed on the bed with him and positioned yourself behind him. You took your cock in your hand and spread the precum that was leaking from it on Kratos' tight hole. You wet your fingers generously with saliva and pushed a finger inside him. Kratos shifted beneath you with the new feeling.

"You're okay, baby." You assured him, using your other hand to rub a small circle on his lower back. Kratos was glad you couldn't see him because he was sure his cheeks had gone pink.

You worked your finger in and out of him slowly to get him ready, adding a second finger when he was ready. You curled your fingers up slightly in attempt to find his prostate. You soon felt something rigged and a groan escaped Kratos' lips as he pressed his ass against your fingers.

"Mmh," You hummed in amusement, "Good boy." You withdrew your fingers from him and used some more spit to coat your dick. You pressed the tip of your aching cock against Kratos' entrance, grinding yourself against his skin.

This made Kratos groan in annoyance, "(y/n)." He said with a warning tone.

"Alright, alright..." You decided to end his anticipation and slowly entered him, moaning.

"Fuck." You muttered, gripping onto his hips as you filled him with your length.

"So fucking tight." You gripped his hips harder to keep from slamming into him. You slowly pulled out half way before pushing back into him, hearing a muffled moan from Kratos. Hearing him like this made your cock twitch inside of him.

"So fucking beautiful." You praised him as you set a slow rocking rhythm. You were slowly picking up your speed, pulling Krato's hips flush against you each time you fucked him.

Mumblings of praises and 'fuck''s escaped your mouth, an occasional moan Kratos couldn't suppress came out as well. By now you were snapping your hips against Kratos as fast as you could, making small adjustments to your angle until-

The loudest moan so far came out of Kratos, if you could get any harder, you would've at that moment. You held his hips in place as you repeatedly brushed against his prostate.

"C'mon baby." You coaxed him along as you reached a hand around him and jerked him off in time with your thrusts.

"Cum for me, Kratos." Your other hand was digging into the side of his ass, there would surely be bruises left behind.

You felt Kratos' muscles tense slightly beneath you as he groaned, his orgasm reaching it's peak and cum spilling out of his cock.

The feeling of Krato's walls clenching around you set you over the edge.

"Fuck..." You hissed as your thrusts became sloppy and you were spilling your seed inside of Kratos, still pumping his cock.

You moaned through your orgasms and braced yourself up with your hands on Kratos' shoulders. You stilled yourself inside him, leaning over him and panting. After taking a few seconds to catch your breath, you straightened out your back and slowly pulled out, watching your cum spill out of Kratos.

You reached for a random rag nearby and gently cleaned up what spilled out of him. You tossed the dirty rag to the side and laid down beside Kratos, who had shifted to his side, back facing you. You let out a content sigh as turned on your side to spoon Kratos, draping an arm across his waist.

"Gonna sleep here tonight, if that's okay." You asked, pressing a soft kiss to his shoulder.

"Mh." Kratos replied. You took it as a 'Sure'.

You closed your eyes, thoroughly exhausted. This stoic, grumpy, strong man had come undone by your touch. Maybe you would stay here for a few days so he could return the favor.

#gow #gow fanfic #gow fanfiction #gow reader insert #gow request #kratos x reader #kratos x male reader #kratos x m reader #kratos smut #kratos lemon #kratos fanfiction #kratos fanfic #gowr #gowr fanfiction #gowr fanfic #god of war ragnarök spoilers #god of war ragnorak #god of war ragnarok fanfic

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dreamcaught · 5 months

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So okay, I haven't seen the commentary about Fourteen returning to Fifteen once he's processed his trauma to be "reabsorbed" or whatever, but if that's how it's gonna go, then yeah. Okay, I can see why they did this.

Doctor Who has been such a fucking insane whirlwind of loss and trauma pretty much since Journey's End when the Doctor lost his lover and his best friend. Tentoo and Rose are happily married in Pete's World. That Doctor gets to actively live the happiest he's ever been every single day, but this Doctor had to keep going.

Eleven lost the Ponds. Twelve lost Clara and Bill. These characters effectively die, which is why they're mentioned directly. And exemplified by the Toymaker, these are big losses. Yaz+Co. didn't get even an inkling of a mention because, quite frankly, they weren't. They all just got to go back home like companions used to do all the time. It was kind of a big deal that so many companions had such tragic, permanent, traumatic endings. So yeah, it makes sense that the Doctor would need to take time to process this.

(That and the Flux thing, apparently, which - uh - I guess falls under the same umbrella.)

Fourteen is incredibly vulnerable. He's open and raw, and he needs to be in order to be the Doctor to process these things. It makes strategic story sense to have the Doctor break in half to allow part of him to retire and process while the other part of him keeps going, because (like with Tentoo), the show must go on -- he can't actually stop.

Having David Tennant's face as Fourteen makes a lot of strategic sense, too. Not only is DT a fan favourite, but his relationship with Donna is the most familial of relationships he's had. Some fans may wonder again why Yaz wasn't who he'd go to, but it has to be noted that they made Yaz a romantic interest and that is not what this Doctor wants or needs right now. That's why they've established Fourteen as (likely) gay. That's why he's calling Rose Noble his niece and Shaun his brother-in-law. He's effectively rehabilitating with his sister, and that's kind of cool.

I do understand the tragedy of Donna's ending was appealing to many viewers, but it's been 15 years. That's long enough for her to get a better ending to her story that doesn't just involve winning the lottery. Her family and how she cares for people who need it are Donna's greatest strengths. Having Donna get her memory back but not become an all-knowing DoctorDonna hybrid is sending a kind message of hope that I think this world needs right now, to be honest.

RTD has done this, in part, to allow for the show to return to being more lighthearted and about hope than it has for a long time. It's saying that it's okay to take a break, but also acknowledges that the Doctor - as a show and as an almost supernatural being - has to carry on as well. It's a soft reboot with acknowledgement to the past without having to view it as a burden, so I get that.

I've seen a lot of people immediately compare this ending to Tentoo/Rose, though, and I don't know if I agree. This isn't a Doctor creating a version of himself to be with a lover as a human, to live the one, singular life he couldn't otherwise have. He didn't bi-regenerate out of love or fear of losing his lover. His loss of regenerations and ability to age as Tentoo is really important to their story, and this is not true for Fourteen. He's still full Time Lord - and if the commentary is true - will eventually reunite with himself. That's not at all the same. Instead, this is the Doctor many years after a traumatic experience using a magical way to get his break and travel, too.

As well, the Doctor was in love with Rose. He had to tear his heart out and leave her in a different universe to let her go. That would not have happened with a bi-regenerated Doctor sharing the same universe. The two Doctors would have had to create a copy of Rose (much like these two had to do so with the TARDIS) in order to be happy. It's not like Donna, because Donna can be a sister to two identical brothers and it's not weird.

(That's if you don't count polyamory, but that would never happen in the show.)

I hope that they use this soft reboot to help move on from past traumas in a healthy way. I hope that Fourteen with Donna does help Fifteen become more of a positive Doctor than even Thirteen was, who was secretly dealing with so much angst all the time.

I do adore, absolutely, that the Doctor did acknowledge his favourite people. River Song and Adric were mentioned as important and lost. Sarah Jane and Rose were explicitly said to be loved. It was less than I was hoping for, but also exactly what I think should happen if they're trying to use this special as a way to finally, realistically move on and start something fresh, new and positive.

So yeah, I guess I'll keep watching to see what happens next.

#dw spoilers #rtd2 #the giggle #dw meta #doctor who

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spotlightlowlife · 4 months

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Helluva Boss has a responsibility issue - Fizz and Ozzie edition

And for another unpopular option

The episode 'Oops', just two episodes ago, revealed something, interesting.

During his capture, Fizz was allowed to face his trauma (which also placed leading character Blitzø in the victim club (but gave us a cliffhanger as to how) making his apology something guaranteed to be accepted) involving the past, he learnt new information, made amends with Blitzø, hot rescued and went home.

All good.

He also claimed he never wanted to go outside again.

Now here's the interesting part.

At the start of the episode, Fizz looked forward to going to his contest rehearsal, in the greed ring, where he would meet Mammon, his other boss.

Ozzie's whole issue was how dangerous the greed ring was and how he didn't want Fizz travelling alone. Fizz had to cute his way into getting what he wanted that was travelling unescorted.

Away from Ozzie, Fizz admitted that it was "great not being in the spotlight for once", but remember, he's about to meet Mammon who we would be lead to believe is the cause of all his remaining issues the following episode.

The following episode, Fizz would be stressed out about the pageant, understandable enough, he could easily be toppled from his decade long champion reign and needs to keep up appearances but he's covering an injury from his recent abduction. Why was it OK for Ozzie to withhold the foundation Fizz desperately searched for as he attempted to talk Fizz out of entering the pageant, only handing it over upon failure? Ozzie tries talking Fizz into failure to attend on grounds of Mammon being an issue (which is the first we hear and we have no proof) and being the reason behind the creeps, but didn't Fizz as good as let us know in the last episode where Mammon wasn't an issue that the spotlight he's constantly in is stressful, but who gets the blame for this?

Not his partner, the prince of lust who manufactures his dolls but now doesn't like them after how many years

and runs a hyper sexual club where he has him on stage and easily accessible to fans and haters.

On the subject of fans, specifically creeps who Mammon is supposedly to blame for, the only creep we are then introduced to is the stalker who has been obsessed since Fizz was a teen in the circus. Over 15 years ago since this was the time or the accident, but Fizz has been the reigning champion of the clown pageants for the past 10 years and 'Oops' let's us know that Fizz has been the face of Mammon's brand 'since' meeting Ozzie?

For one, where has this scary stalker been all this time?

And two, if Fizz and Ozzie's relationship predates Fizz's branding, then why is he doubting Ozzie's love for him stripped of his elevation down to Mammon? And how long have they been a thing?

Doubting those who care, performance anxiety and not feeling good enough dispite being excellent are shown to have always been a thing, as has being manipulated by those who wish to exploit and those who care alike

but what was the solution? Once willing to accept the validation constantly offered, blame the annual job that just become an issue this subplot, the idolised employers who just become an issue this subplot, then quit, to do what? Spend even more time at his other job that he also wants time away from, where his boss won't let him out of his sight and is also his lover?

Fizz is waa that starry eyed child who fails to hear and see how others are responding to him, such as Blitzø back when they were younger failing to answer the question of if he could win the pageant, the exploitative Buckzo seeing him as the perfect child (which is very significant) or Ozzie's claim that he would have had everything he already has without Mammon as Fizz sits in the pageant dressing room and we're now blaming Mammon for the attention he receives, just this episode. Fizz is highly impressionable yet highly emotional and entirely vulnerable when stressed, which is why he will always have others undermining his choice.

Damsel in distress again but Fizz wasn't scared for his safety, ever, he needed the courage to lessen the load and find his voice, he needed confidence that only he could summon, it happened in his own time, this is good.

Only, what if it happened at the beginning of the episode where Ozzie talked him up then? What if he stuck to his words from the last episode and understandably wanted stay indoors? This way we could have seen Mammon be that horrible boss who doesn't care for safety and wellbeing and forces work, or that horrible boss who will replace someone they underappreciated immediately, but no, he was the fall guy to give Fizz and Ozzie the lovey dovey moment the fanbase craves and stick it to man at whilst at it.

Again, this may not be an accidental bad writing, but more supply and demand for the same needy audience who will lap up misses and inconsistency without question because the cute quota was met. I'm still open to the last episode being a worked on more recently.

#helluva boss fandom #helluva boss critical #helluva boss asmodeus #helluva boss fizzarolli #helluva boss mammon #helluva boss critique #episode commentary #did i miss something

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the-badger-mole · 1 year

Text

Hallmarks of the Season

Katara hated travelling during the holidays. It was too crowded, people were too impatient, and the frazzled staff had been abused to the point that even asking for directions seemed to push some of them to the point of tears. Even travelling first class wasn't enough to offset the horrors of holiday travel. Still, as Katara exited baggage claim at long last, and saw her father and brother waiting for her in driver hats and holding a banner, she felt the annoyance of the last 15 hours melt away.

"Dad! Sokka!" She threw herself at them and happily got swallowed up in the tangle of affection.

"Welcome home, sweetheart," Hakoda said, pulling his children close in a crushing hug.

"Dad!" Sokka protested. "You see me every day! Stop trying to break me in half." Hakoda ignored his son and gave them both one last squeeze before releasing them. He took the handle of Katara's suitcase and lead the way out of the airport.

"I'm so glad you were able to make it this year," Hakoda said to Katara. "It's been too long since we've had you with us in person for the holidays. Your grandmother is going to be thrilled to see you."

"And this mysterious boyfriend you're hiding from us," Sokka cast his sister an arch look. Katara just rolled her eyes.

"First of all, he's my fiancé," she reminded him. "And he's not mysterious. You have all met him."

"Video calls and an hour of lunch hardly counts as meeting him," Sokka snorted. "We've barely gotten to vet him. It seems like every time we're supposed to spend time with him, something comes up. Wasn't he supposed to fly out with you? What's his excuse this time?" Katara's face colored with anger.

"There's an issue with an investor," Katara told her brother. "They were supposed to sign the deal two weeks ago, but now they're dragging their feet. If the money isn't transferred, it's going to affect payroll, and we're trying to avoid that. It's a miracle I was able to get away."

"Perks of being engaged to the owner?" Hakoda grinned broadly and winked at Katara.

"Yeah...well..." Katara's shoulders went up to her ears bashfully. "Well, anyway, Zuko's uncle is there to help get things settled. He promised to have Zuko on the plane here in four days, no matter what, so he'll be here." Sokka scoffed disbelievingly. Katara shoved him lightly. They'd reached Hakoda's car then, and the subject switched from the likelihood of Katara's fiancé showing up to who got the front seat. Katara won, and Sokka sulked in the backseat for the entire way home.

Katara had only been able to come home a handful of times over the last five years, but every time she stepped through the door of her childhood home, it was like she'd never been away. Kanna, her grandmother hurried out of the kitchen, covered in flour, to greet her prodigal granddaughter in a flurry of hugs and kisses. A pair of small, but heavy feet rushed down the stairs, and Katara had just a moment to prepare herself before her niece launched herself into her aunt's arms.

"Auntie!" Katara caught her with only a bit of a stumble and laughed as she hugged her niece tight.

"You've gotten so big, Sesi!" she exclaimed. Sesi squirmed out of Katara's grip and pulled her bottom lip down to show of a row of missing teeth.

"I lost a tooth today!" Sesi exclaimed, jabbing her finger at an empty spot that seemed fresher than the rest. "It came out in my tessenjutsu class!" Katara ooed and awed to the little girl's content. Then Sesi grabbed Katara's hand to drag her off to her room and show her all the new toys and games she'd gotten since Katara had last visited, but Sokka stopped her.

"Sesi, Auntie's had a long day," he said. "And it's past your bedtime."

"But, Daddy-" Sesi protested.

"She'll still be here tomorrow," Sokka promised. "And if you're really good, maybe she can even take you to school in the morning." The reminder that she still had to go to school did not have the placating result Sokka was hoping for, but still Sesi went off to her room with little more than a pout. Hakoda took the opportunity to take Katara's bag up to the guest room. Kanna ushered her grandchildren off to the kitchen to fix them a meal.

"I hope you're hungry," Kanna said.

"After a day of airport food, I'm starved," Katara assured her grandmother.

"Really?" Sokka raised an eyebrow. "They didn't feed you in first class?" Katara rolled her eyes and huffed.

"First class on that airline just means more legroom, and even that just barely." She sat at the table, across from her brother and thanked Kanna for the bowl of stew. "The food on the plane was actually not bad, but they served it like two hours into the flight, and it wasn't even that much food."

"Well, you can have as much as you want," Kanna promised. "I'm going to clean up and head out."

"You don't have to do that, Gran-Gran," Sokka said. "I'll take care of it."

"Are you sure?" Kanna asked. "I know you've had a long day, and it's no trouble."

"It's the least I can do," Sokka insisted. "For taking care of Sesi and cooking and stuff." Kanna chuckled and kissed Sokka's forehead.

"In that case, I'll head out." Kanna stopped at Katara's side and kissed her next. "I'll be back nice and early tomorrow. I want to hear all about your job...and this young man I've been hearing so much about."

"Absolutely," Katara promised. "I have lots of pictures." Hakoda came back down the stairs as Kanna was bundling up.

"Are you leaving so soon, Kanna?" he asked, giving her a hug.

"I want to let Umiak out for a while before I go to bed," Kanna told him. "I'll be back in the morning." Kanna said her last goodnights and hurried out to her car. Hakoda went to join his children at the table.

"Sesi was a little wound up," Hakoda explained as he fixed himself a bowl of stew. "I told her a quick bedtime story."

"Sesi is getting so big!" Katara exclaimed, turning to Sokka. "How can you stand it?"

"It's tough," Sokka sighed. "I feel like she was just my little baby ten minutes ago, and now she's losing teeth and going to school. She'll be in first grade next year."

"Yeah, these days fly by." Hakoda looked at his two children with a melancholy smile. "Then she'll be all grown up and carving out her own little piece of the world, and making you feel the proudest you've ever been." Katara reached out and squeezed her fathers hand. Sokka stroked his chin thoughtfully.

"Sesi looks more and more like Yue everyday," he mused sadly.

"Yeah, but her personality is all you," Katara laughed.

"Perfect!" Sokka grinned at Katara. "She'll be beautiful and funny!"

The trio stayed up well into the night, catching up, reminiscing and cleaning the kitchen. It was well past the time Hakoda and Sokka usually went to bed by the time they turned in, but eventually the day caught up with them, and they said their goodnights. Katara had been put into the spare bedroom. It was small, but cozy, with a narrow futon and a warm glowing bedside table. This was where Gran-Gran or any other visiting relatives would sleep. It was strange for Katara to be there now, but her childhood bedroom was now where Sesi slept. It was jarring, and the first time that coming to visit her family didn't quite feel like coming home, but Katara found herself glad that her brother and niece had moved back in with Hakoda. She had worried about her father when she was away, although Sokka and his family had never lived far. She was grateful that they had each other now. And she was glad to be back.

One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six

#atla #holiday feel goods #zutara #yukka #hallmarks of the season #fanfic

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