#I hope that’s the correct tag for me to use to describe some of the horrific shit that you’ll see in the one leaves trailer

[jen-with-a-pen]

𝗙𝗜𝗟𝗧𝗛𝗬, 𝗜𝗠𝗣𝗘𝗧𝗨𝗢𝗨𝗦 𝗦𝗢𝗨𝗟𝗦

summary: After what you assumed would be a successful mission, things veer off-course and you're stuck with Bucky Barnes in Istanbul with no way out until morning. The tension between you comes to head and nothing will be the same again.

parings: Protective!Avenger!Bucky Barnes x Sniper!Agent!Curvy!F!Reader

word count: 6.5K

warnings: enemies to lovers, angst, canon-level violence with just a bit more blood, guns, reader is a sniper/sharp-shooter, hate-making out, degradation, fighting, insults and cursing, teasing/banter, reader and bucky don't know how to talk about their feelings (or to eachother), spanking, doggy, angry-horny, rough-ish sex, pent up anger, pent up sexual tension, power dynamics, protective!Bucky, vague hinting to Bucky's PTSD, no use of y/n, reader is tagged as curvy and is described as such but body description is kept to a minimum

a/n: this work is for @targaryenvampireslayer's Blind Date Writing Challenge! My prompts were "enemies to lovers" and "Again! Please, again!" I am incredibly thankful to Suz for letting me participate. I haven't been able to participate in a challenge since forever ago 😅 ALSO! This is my first time writing enemies to lovers, as well as curvy!reader! even though i'm curvy myself, i hope i did okay ♥ This work is not beta-read. all mistakes are my own. If any mistake is glaringly obvious, please feel free to message me and let me know! p.s. I listened to a lot of PVRIS + Nothing But Thieves writing this, can ya tell? p.p.s. the amount of willpower and struggle with my muse it took to finish this is... a lot. i think she scratched my cornea at some point.

If I’ve missed any tags, PLEASE let me know!

gif by @unearthlydust | dividers by @cafekitsune | warning banner by me ♥

my ao3 | my masterlist title from: You Know Me Too Well by Nothing But Thieves Read this fic HERE on ao3! ♥Reblogs and comments are highly appreciated as always♥

𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙡𝙤𝙜𝙪𝙚

Bucky Barnes has always hated you, and you have always hated Bucky Barnes. At least since you first met, that is. 

Being the newest recruit– and only sharp-shooter–  to grace the S.H.I.E.L.D. Direct Action Team’s roster since signing on the Sergeant James “Bucky” Barnes, the hostility was almost immediate from the second you walked in your first day. 

You couldn’t help cringing– which would be quickly followed by raging annoyance and a slight migraine– without remembering your first time training with Bucky. He made it crystal clear he didn’t trust your previous experience or trainers, let alone your sniper training. Within the first week he ground your spirit into dust with his leather combat boots, quashing any attempts to defend yourself. And it’s not like you weren’t familiar with his history, either; he’d broken every single last sharp-shooter that came to the team before you, a hardass ex-assassin with an introverted mean streak who happened one of the top snipers in the United States Army during World War II. Old dogs certainly can learn new tricks, though, and it was extremely apparent when it came to Bucky Barnes.

When you finally had enough midway through the third week, you snapped at him after he corrected you for the umpteenth time on your foot positioning, pointedly informing him you weren’t built like you could take on a goddamned semi-truck with one hand.

Once you finished, he silently handed you a pistol and challenged you to a shoot off. One-handed. You considered it a tie. Tony considered the training range off-limits until he got government permission via S.H.I.E.L.D. to replace every single shooting target and torso dummy in the compound– including the extras.

After that, the two of you weren’t allowed in the gym, on the same mode of transportation, in the infirmary, or the training range without someone else to supervise with a tranquilizer gun at the ready and within arm’s reach of said supervisor. More often than not, though, the ‘someone else’ was either Steve or Natasha– depending who won the coin toss before training that day– and the tranquilizer gun wasn’t really more of a tranquilizer gun than it was a slight sedative to calm each of you down enough for either Steve, or Nat, to drag you out without kicking and screaming at each other. Granted, it only happened one time– a workout competition-turned-sparring match that lasted the better part of four hours– but everyone else agreed to keep it around. Just in case.

You learned, however, exactly how much ketamine it took to down a raging super soldier with a vibranium arm. You couldn’t help but make horse whinnies under your breath every time you passed Bucky in the compound for at least a week. 

With a year of domestic missions underneath your belt, S.H.I.E.L.D. constituted you ready to travel with the DA Team on international missions and operations. You were elated, excited to prove your worth and wit to everyone; especially Bucky, because maybe then he’d be at least keen enough to start showing you a drop of respect.  

Then there was the fallout of when you both learned you’d be sent on the next mission. Together. Albeit with Natasha and Clint– but together. 

Fury said he didn’t have a choice. Tony claimed it was out of his hands. Natasha, while protecting a cowering Steve from the flames and daggers shooting out of yours and Bucky’s glares, flat out told you, “either you both learn to work together, or neither of you are working DA missions again,” adding, with gritted teeth and a pinched bridge, “The whole team thinks you’re a fucking pair of walking time bombs. I don’t wanna use the damn ketamine gun again.”

The next thing you knew, you were on a plane to Turkey with your rifle, wits, and the waiting promise of separate hotel rooms upon arrival. 

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A reddened sun dipped over the Istanbul skyline, swathing the city in shadows. Dusk was imminent as you ascended the rusted fire escape and stepped onto the roof of the abandoned building; the dilapidated outside was perfect enough to designate it as the main stake out location. You sighed in awe at the view, catching the remnants of the sunset while pausing for a brief break before switching into ‘work mode.’ 

“Stop fuckin’ around, get into position,” Bucky said through your ear piece. Shit. You forgot he could see your video feed via the harness crossing over your chest and the cameras Natasha set up on the roof and the building next door. 

“Sorry, Sarge, thought I’d enjoy the view before I dome some fuckin’ war criminal from a thousand yards away,” you huffed. The line went silent, save from what sounded like very faint cursing amidst the static. You rolled your eyes, swinging the gun bag off your back, unpacking and assembling and loading, preparing for working on yet another thrilling Saturday night.

You silently prayed the hotel had a decent bar with decent hours.

Dropping into a prone position, you were thankful for the custom-fit tac suit that hugged your body as your hips and thighs scraped against debris littering the roof as you positioned the scope of your rifle, placing your hand delicately on the trigger. 

“In position,” you muttered, adjusting into a more comfortable, ready-to-bail position in case things went south. When you shot prone, it felt as if the mission at hand weighed just a bit heavier than others. More unbearable. The tactical suit and additional weapons attached to your aching body rivaled that of cinder blocks chained to your legs, weighing you down to the ocean floor in an attempted drowning while you tried to stay above water.

It's never gotten easier, but it's never been harder. 

The past two days had been filled with inconsistent sleep, hiding out, and keeping watch, all while under the watchful eye of Bucky. Bucky, who was watching you from inside the stakeout building, who threw a super soldier temper tantrum about having to figure out the ‘nonsensical logistics’ of how to stream a fucking live video feed, who barely bothered to say a word to you while meeting Natasha at the location that morning– aside from graciously allowing you to borrow his weapons cleaning kit. 

“You didn’t bring your own?” He cocked a judgmental brow at you, looking you up and down like a creature that crawled out of the Black Lagoon. Steely sea-blue eyes met yours, sharp and bright. Challenging. The collar of your tactical suit had instantly tightened.

“Figured we both use the same stuff, might as well bring the one to save space,” you shrugged, cocking a hip. 

Bucky’s eyes flitted to your pronounced curve before you straightened, swallowing. 

“Fine. Go nuts,” he sighed reluctantly, gesturing for you to sit in the guarded seat across from him. You sensed his piercing gaze follow you, feeling the same heat creep up your neck and cheeks just like all the other times he watched you. You chocked it up to an intimidation tactic, because it sure as hell worked.

You shook Bucky out of your brain. You needed to stay focused.  

“Copy. Target is en route to position, t-minus two minutes. Make it clean and make it quick.” Natasha's voice was cool, calming you and the usual racing thoughts in your head during these types of missions. You preferred her over anyone else to be your spotter since your first time out in the field, but this time she was assigned to be the plant, luring the target away from the rather innocent party-goers so they wouldn’t be splattered with brain matter and skull fragments courtesy of you.

Though, you had to admit, in the right scenarios, that was one of the more satisfying things that came with being a sniper.

“Don’t fuckin’ rush it,” Bucky chimed in.

You rolled your eyes, ignoring him. “Copy, Nat, just keep dangling the carrot.”

“You know I’ll do more than that. Out.” You could hear her wink. 

Two minutes might not seem like much, but missions like these can make it feel like a lifetime. Part of you hoped Bucky watched every second. The other half hoped you could smack the doubtful smirk off his stubble-ridden face– the same exact one he had whenever he watched you train. It was like he wanted you to fail. Like he was expecting it, anticipating it. 

You pinched your wrist. Now was not the fucking time. 

You brought the scope closer to your face, targeting the window Natasha would be bringing the target in front of. The crosshairs helped even out the scene while you lined up the shot right between the bedroom’s curtains. You readied yourself, focusing on breathing and controlling the rise and fall of your chest, steadying your bottom half. You blinked, then, and through the sights you spotted the golden shimmer of Natasha’s dress reflecting off the room’s low lighting. Finger on the trigger, delicately squeezing as the target’s head entered into the crosshairs, stepping unknowingly into the middle of your aim, mere seconds left to live, left until he rots in his deserved place in hell. 

Exhale. Inhale. Hold. Pull.

The target dropped in mere milliseconds as the shot reverberated throughout your body, the sound thankfully muffled by your ear pieces and the silencer. The recoil of the rifle dug into your shoulder, fighting against the rest of your body anchored by stiffened muscles. You exhaled, shaky, still, pushing the scope from your face and resting your head on the cool metal of the stock, allowing it to sear into your burning forehead.

“Confirmed kill. Target down. Meet you back at the hotel, over,” Natasha’s breathless voice crackled into your ear. 

“Copy. On my way down. Bucky do you–”

White hot pain suddenly seared through the back of your skull, slamming you face-first into your rifle. You clutched the back of your head, whipping around to be greeted by the dark void of a gun barrel. You froze, blood draining from your face, stomach free-falling as your gaze traveled up to meet crazed eyes and a twisted face. The man– your assaulter– was clad in black with hints of a tattoo running up his neck like blackened veins. No doubt the symbols hidden under his collar belonged to the syndicate run by his boss. The boss you just killed.

He snarled, yellowed teeth glistening in a maniacal grin. “You’re going to pay for that, little bitch,” he spat and nodded to your rifle as he shoved the barrel in your face. The metal practically branded you like marking a cattle for slaughter.

“Try me, prick,” you gritted through ringing pain and a locked jaw, snarling at the man as you rose, slowly, the barrel unmoving as the gun followed your position.

His grin widened. He began pushing you backwards towards the edge of the roof. Quickly, you kicked your foot out, catching his ankle and grabbing his wrist, pointing the gun at the darkened sky as you clawed at his fingers to release it from his grasp. A deafening shot rang out as you wrestled, sending an elbow straight into your jaw that shoved you away. He aimed for you again as you pulled a knife from your waistband, hurling it at any limb you could hit. It nailed him in his thigh, deep enough you knew it hit bone. He dropped the pistol in favor of his leg, allowing you enough of a break to kick the gun off the roof, sliding it off the opposite edge and down the fire escape.

You stood. You noticed the flicker, the fire, in the man’s eyes as it raged, burning brighter than the streetlights below. He yelled as he lunged, knocking you down again. Hard. Lungs deflated, pain seared through your spine, leaving you sputtering and gasping, grasping desperately for anything: his arms, his legs, your knife, your knife in his leg. Your head spun from the impact, rage and bile boiling in your stomach as arms and legs kicked and thrashed. The man grabbed you by your hair as if to scalp you, limping his way to the edge of the roof, dragging you along inch by inch. You deadened, going limp, hoping to make it that much harder for him to drag you with a knife in his fucking femur. Your stomach dropped as the wind picked up and the distance from the fire escape grew farther away. You knew what was in store: a five-story drop onto the hard street below. 

With impressive strength for a man who was actively bleeding out– and bleeding all over you– he swung you around by the fistful of hair in his hands, dangling your bottom half off the edge of the roof. You fought the panic beginning to set in, thrashing your feet around in an attempt to find some sort of foothold as your hands scrambled to grip the ledge. To add insult to injury, he slammed your head down, skull and jaw dropping with a dizzying thump. A gruff laugh erupted from his chest, and he spat at you. You glanced hesitantly over your shoulder. The world stretched and morphed the longer you looked; your eyes saw a fifty-foot drop while your brain saw a thousand foot death sentence. You willed your sore neck to turn back to the man, only to fight the scream that bubbled up your throat at the sight of a miniature pistol pointed execution-style at you. You ceased any movement, eyes widening, grip tightening on the inch-thick ledge of the roof that held you from becoming a human pancake.

“Looks like you’ll pay after all, bitch!” He grinned, cocking the pistol and preparing to fire. As he squeezed the trigger, as you squeezed your eyes shut, there’s a muffled shot, and then a warm, oozing feeling running down your face and neck. Hesitantly, you opened your eyes, greeted by the sight of the man’s jaw slackened as his eyes began to roll back in his skull. A singular bullet wound centered on his forehead leaked brain and blood and bits of bone. He’s shoved over, body falling like a rag doll and spilling onto the roof. He’s quickly replaced by a seething, panting Bucky with a pistol pointed where your would-be-killer stood. Your eyes widened as your chest constricted, fingertips grinding against the edge as your arms burned and begged to be pulled to solid ground. He lowers the gun, lips parted, eyes boring into your soul like he’s seen a ghost. 

“Sar–Bucky, I’m fuckin’ slipping here!” you yelled as your left hand began to give way to gravity. The entirely reasonable request seemed to piss him off even more as he cursed, dropping his gun and grabbing harshly onto your arms, yanking you back up. He dropped you onto the roof in a heap. While your muscles screamed and you hacked up your lungs trying to regain normal oxygen levels, the annoyance you harbored for Bucky returned just as quickly as the gratefulness you had for his rescue faded once he turned his back on you, heading to the fire escape. 

“Thanks, Bucky, but Jesus fucking–”

He whipped around, blue eyes flashing crimson– a warning sign to choose your next words extremely carefully. 

“Clean up n’ get the fuck down. I’m leaving with or without you in ten fucking minutes,” he seethed, fists clenching onto the fire escape bars. You winced at the groaning sound the metal emitted as he bent it out of place, imprinting his palm prints into the bars.

“Bucky, I– What do–” you stuttered. Thoughts were racing as you looked between him and your would-be murderer decaying in his own drying blood a few feet away. You looked back at him. His eyes, swimming with something unrecognizable, mixed with fear and anger plaguing his features– like he remembered something so vivid, so real, that he was reliving it again.

“Just,” he turns his back to you, voice shaking, “get down here.”

He disappeared, leaving you to clean up the mess.

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The back alleyway was lit with a single, softly glowing flood light that led out to the busy streets. Bucky, who was already waiting for you with a furiously tapping foot, surveilled you with a stuck-snarling lip as you jumped down from the fire escape. The gilded plates in his hand leading up under his sleeve glinted with the violet-tinted vibranium. 

There's a moment, a beat, shared between you as you stood to look at him. You stared at one another, gazes unwavering and refusing to break, to blink. The shadows surrounding you began to move as if they were dancing on Bucky's face, sharpening his jaw, his features. He stayed on you, eyes flitting ever-so-slightly over your form. 

Your face burned.

Bucky cleared his throat. “Take a fuckin’ picture why don’t ya?” 

You rolled your eyes. “Could say th’same for you.” 

He grumbled something– probably cursing you– under his breath. As he opened his mouth to hurl an insult your way, both your phones pinged.

♦ Natasha: Taking last flight out of IST. Jet coming early AM. Lay low. Don’t kill each other. Please. Talk soon.

You swallowed a groan. 

“Fuckin’ great,” Bucky muttered, loud enough for you to hear. 

“Uh, okay. Fuck you, too, then,” you shot at him defensively. Knee-jerk reaction. Pinching the bridge of your nose and kicking yourself, you dropped the subject. Not the fight you wanted to pick at that moment. “Let’s– let's just call a cab and get to the hotel.”

“No. I have a bike. And we’re going to a safehouse.”

“Bucky, it's dark enough, my bag is–”

Suddenly, he was much closer than a mere second before, backing you up against the wall of the stakeout building. He beat you in height by a decent amount, but him towering over you really put it in perspective. His broad shoulders heaved, vibranium arm whirring in overdrive as he jabbed a plated finger at you, his face inches from yours. 

“I. Don't. Fucking. Care,” he stabbed each word into your sternum. “Bike’s down at the other end of the block. We're taking it, or you can fuckin’ walk. Doesn't matter to me.” 

You wanted to take his finger and break it.  

You glared, focus shifting between his startlingly bright blue eyes and the strange closeness of his face to yours. It was like you were seeing him– like, actually seeing him– for the first time in high definition. All of his details– the small scars by his hairline, the slight crookedness of his nose, crow’s feet and worry lines beginning to etch themselves into his skin, the indent between his brows– overwhelmed you as your eyes darted all over his face. You snapped back to his glare and were suddenly very conscious of your own facial expression that failed to rival his. You set your jaw and furrowed your brow.

You doubted it was convincing.

“Fine.” 

He stepped back and started striding down the alleyway with you at his heels. Your grip on the straps of the gun bag burned your palms as you tried to keep up with Bucky’s annoyingly long strides. At the intersection between the main street and two shops sat a garage; it appeared closed for the night, but was still open to Bucky, apparently, who pulled a key out from under an unsuspecting plant. He unlocked the large metal door, lifting it to reveal a tiny space that was barely big enough to house the large motorcycle and a workbench scattered with parts and tools. He strolled in like he owned the place and grabbed one of the helmets hanging off the motorcycle’s handles, handing it to you with an outstretched arm as he saddled himself onto the bike. You looked from him to the helmet, mouth agape and brow arched in confusion. 

When you didn’t take it, he rolled his eyes and shook it at you.

“C’mon, we don’t have all night.”

“When the hell did you–”

“I’ve got my ways. Now c’mon, put the damn helmet on,” he huffed, leaning back on the seat. His thick thighs clenched and straddled the gunmetal-body of the motorcycle. You held back the shiver that ran up your back as you crossed your arms, hip cocking out in defiance. In the briefest of pauses, Bucky stilled, and you swore you caught his eyes scanning down your body, your curves and full figure, before snapping back up to meet yours. He scoffed, smirking to himself and shaking his head.

“The fuck are you laughin’ at?” Your face turned hot, prompting your arms to hug tighter over your chest. You felt off balance. 

He said nothing and tossed the helmet to you. Your arms uncrossed and reacted much faster than your brain did as you barely caught it, slipping it on. Pointedly sighing, you relented and climbed onto the bike as Bucky put his own helmet on, sliding the visor down. In the shortly-live silence, your breathing echoed his, the air weighing heavy with anticipation. You were suddenly hyper-aware of every single little touch, every tiny movement made, every breath taken– like a bucket of ice water getting splashed on you, you were present for what felt like the first time that night.

The bike roared to life and Bucky leaned forward to fit his body closer to the handles. 

“Might wanna hang on,” he yelled over the noise. You hesitated, probably for a second too long for Bucky’s liking as he looked behind you and rolled his eyes (you knew he did, even behind the stupid visor.) He reached behind his back and grabbed your wrist, pulling you against him and wrapping your arm around his waist. Your free arm followed suit, tightly embracing him, heart pounding in your chest at the sudden act. You lurched forward as he rode out of the garage and began down the street; the location was a mystery to you, other than you knew it was one of the regular S.H.I.E.L.D. approved safehouses in Istanbul.

Weaving through the other bikes and cars, you couldn’t help but lean closer into Bucky, watching the lights and sights pass by in a blur. Fingers fanned over his abdomen as you held on, feeling the firm leather tac jacket against your skin– which became firmer upon pressing into him and feeling like you were palming a brick wall. Knees fit together at the sides of the bike, shifting ever-so-slightly whenever he braked or shifted. Worst of all, as you hugged your chest into his back, you had a front-row seat in viewing the way his broad shoulders twisted with laser-like precision as he drove.

It took every ounce of energy not to let go and fall off the bike. 

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The four-flight trudge up to the safehouse– more like safeapartment, actually– was a miserable one, especially with twenty pounds worth of gear on your back and a highly impatient super soldier on your ass telling you to “hurry the fuck up.”

“Again: ‘m not built like a fuckin’ freight train, here, Bucky,” you panted as your legs struggled in rounding the fourth and final landing. He didn’t bother to wait for you, instead turning wordlessly off the landing, heading down the hallway to the door with the keys jingling against his vibranium hand. You caught up to him, standing awkwardly off to the side as he fumbled with the sticky lock, and you couldn’t help but watch the way his hands moved. The way the vibranium prosthetic moved as fluidly as his flesh and bone, the way the plates glinted in the dimly lit hallway, the way his fingers seemed to have a mind of their own. 

Bucky swung the door open, pulling you out of your trance. He flicked on a light switch to reveal a small apartment complete with a cramped living room, couch, small T.V., and an open kitchen in the back. A hallway diverted off to the left, presumably to the bathroom and–

“It’s a one bedroom,” Bucky muttered, stepping into the apartment. You looked at him incredulously. 

“You– you’re kidding, right?” you asked, closing the door behind you and dropping your bag off to the side. 

“No. Why would I?” Bucky turned to you, cocking a brow with hands set on his hips, revealing his undone tac jacket and the tightest fucking dry-fit shirt underneath. It was practically a second skin, hugging against his abs you felt earlier. You stared slack-jawed at him like he didn’t just hear himself speak.

“Because there’s only one fucking bed?” 

“Yeah. And I’m taking it. You get couch duty,” he stated matter-of-factly. His crooked smirk prodded at your nerves.

You scoffed and mirrored his stance. “What? No! I did the work today, you sat around and just… watched.”

His face hardened. “I sat and just… watched?” he repeated, tone challenging you as he took a step forward. 

You swallowed. “You heard me.”

One second, you were ready to hurl another choice word at Bucky. The next, you were slammed against the back of the door. Hard. 

Bucky had rushed you, grabbing your arms with bruising force and forcing them up, pinning your wrists on either side of your head. You yelled in protest, failing to squirm out of the cage that was his body. 

“Look at me right fuckin’ now,” he demanded, lips curling into a snarl and bared teeth. His voice turned, a complete 180. Dominating, commanding, enraging. When you didn’t obey instantly, he slammed your wrists against the door again.

“Look at me!” 

“No! Fuck– Get off me!” 

With your feet still free, you started kicking him, eliciting what sounded like a growl that rumbled from deep within his chest. Bucky passed your wrist in his metal hand off to his flesh one, pinning both hands above your head while shoving a thick thigh between both of yours– right against your core. An uncontrollable yelp escaped from you as he pushed. Heat pooled in your lower stomach, and it took every bit of control to stop yourself from clenching your thighs together automatically. The fire Bucky ignited only grew, imaginary flames roaring in your stomach and racing up your limbs. His prosthetic hand snaked up your neck and squeezed your chin, squishing your cheeks and lips, forcing your eyes to him.

You felt lightheaded. Bucky– fuck, nobody– ever grabbed you like that; like you belonged to them. To him.

“You’re gonna listen to me, and listen good,” he shook your face, “I saved your fuckin’ life tonight, ‘member? When you were defenseless and as good as fuckin’ dead on that roof? You made me shoot that piece of shit point blank. You made me almost shoot you.” 

His voice shook and he looked away, biting his lip then coming back to you. “I fuckin’ saved your life when you should’ve saved your own. If it’d been any later– if I’d been a second later–” He steadied a breath, shaking his head and scoffing a laugh. He focused back on you with wildly electric blues. “I saved your life. Therefore, I get the goddamned bed tonight. Got it?”

You stared at him for a second longer before nodding gently. The energy building between you was enough to burn the entire building down if someone lit a cigarette. A smirk slowly bloomed across your lips. He released your chin, hand sinking down to rest against your collarbone. 

“Is that all, Sergeant?” 

His Adam's apple bobbed.

“What did you just call me?” he whispered, sliding a vibranium palm around the column of your neck, plated fingers resting on your pulse point. He twitched. Inches.

“You heard me.” 

The air, thick in the apartment, felt charged. 

“Needja t’say it again. Can’t hear too well,” he slurred, licking his lips. Eyelids fluttering, hands squeezing. Centimeters.

“Whatever you say,” you lilted. Millimeters. “Sergeant.”

Lightning struck. Everything ignited, setting fire to both of you as Bucky’s lips seared into yours. Hard, sloppy, desperate as tongue and teeth swapped secrets like old friends. He was unexplored territory, yet he felt so familiar. His prosthetic slowly relented the grip on your wrists, dropping to your shoulder, sliding down your chest where he greedily groped and slid over every last peak and dip of your body: tits screaming for release from your suit; hips jerking in short bursts at his every movement. He grabbed your ass and pulled you closer, forcing your thick thighs to spread wider as his own pushed further against your arousal.

“Been–” Bucky smacked your lips, kissing hungrily across your cheek and biting down your neck, “Shit– Been wanting this so– long, fuck–” He pressed into you, his cock harder a gun in his waistband. You couldn’t hold onto the intensely lust-filled moan that spilled from your throat much longer. Bucky grinned against your neck, lapping and sucking and marking your skin like he owned you. Like he could do whatever he wanted to you. 

And you let him.

“Gotta get this shit off you,” Bucky mumbled into your neck as he shed his own jacket, face not leaving your skin. Rough hands grabbed onto you and ripped away the buckles and buttons of the jacket that kept your body from him. A deep groan rumbled inside his chest as he threw the top half of your suit to the side, drinking in the beautiful sight of your body, hugged in all the right places by the cami that was riding up your stomach while your tits gasped for air, spilling out, fighting against your sports bra.

“Holy–fuck, holy shit.” 

Bucky Barnes was speechless. And you were the reason why. 

He stopped as your wrists came down from above your head and fell down your frame. 

“God, you’re fuckin’ beautiful.”

Your heart stopped.

“You’re telling me.”

Another charge surged and you threw yourself at Bucky, sending both of you stumbling through the living room. Hands grasped and groped. Fingers busied themselves with removing clothing, undoing pants to throw one way and stripping shirts to toss another. You were magnetized to him, carding through his cropped chocolate hair, hooking your arms behind his neck– which was still bare and practically begging you to mark it in every way you knew. Stumbling over an end table, knocking into the wall that led down the hallway, dragging one another to the bedroom only to pause when you whined at Bucky to shut the door. 

Both of you were near-naked, relishing in each other’s skin by the time you made it to the bed, falling on it with him on top of you in a heap. Bucky hiked you further up the bed, dropping you onto the several pillows that made it feel like Cloud 9. You looked up at him straddling your hips with legs that seemed to spread wider the further down he sat. Eyelids fluttered while your pupils adjusted to the dark bedroom. What lay before was a scene out of your wildest fantasy. 

Bucky sat back on his hips, hair spiking out in wild tufts, cock aching to break free from the confines of his briefs as he stared back at you hungrily. His tongue jutted out to wet his lips, dragging the bottom half back into his teeth while his lust-blown pupils trained directly on you. You truly hadn’t registered the god-like, sculpturesque muscles leading down his chest and over his rippling abs that finished in a very defined ‘V’ below the waistband of his briefs. The veins bulging in his arm and hand were enough to send you spiraling. Everything before you left you speechless. Wanting. Needing.

Bucky slid painstakingly slow hands over your hips, up your waist, your ribs, slipping curious fingers underneath the hem of your sports bra. He didn’t rip it off like you expected, however. 

He looked at you. Really looked at you. “You–” his Adam’s apple bobbed, “y’know this’ll change everything. Right?” 

You nodded, eager, confident. “Yeah. I– I know.”

“You wanna do this?” He tugged harder.

“Yes.” Another tug. Your tits begged for release. 

“And you… got protection, er–” he hesitated, cocking a brow.

“Pill. I–I’m on the pill,” you breathlessly assured him. You added with a shrug, “I assume you didn’t bring any…”

He scoffed a laugh. “You weren’t exactly on my list of things t’do.”

“Well I hope I’m a top priority, now.”

“Number fuckin’ one.”

The elastic tore as he ripped the fabric, finally releasing your breasts from their constraint. Bucky discarded your ruined bra and turned back to you. His hands gravitated automatically to your chest, kneading, squeezing; thumbs and index fingers on both sides felt around for your nipples and pinched the sensitive buds, eliciting a squeal from you and another rush of arousal flooded your core. 

Bucky hummed while locking his lips onto a pointed peak, mouthing and nipping and sucking. You mewled, running a hand up the back of his head and through his messy hair. His vibranium hand started downwards, sending your senses into overdrive as metal fingers teased the hem of your hipsters that met the crease in your thigh. He released your swollen nipple with a pop.

“Fuck you’re soaked, baby,” he moaned. Tugging your hipsters down your legs, he returned to leaning back on his hips. You’re breathless, panting, melting before him as he palms his thick erection. The girthy, leaking head poked over the waistband, aching to finally meet you. To feel you.

He stripped his briefs off, springing his cock free. You couldn’t tell if the uncontrollable moan that escaped from your lips was because of how mouth-watering he was or the thrilling worry that flooded your mind at the thought (and soon-to-be very real act) of fitting him– all of him– inside you. You glanced at him, catching the way his eyes darkened into something sinister, something hungry and uncontrollable. His jaw hardened as he pumped himself, leaking precum droplets onto your thighs. 

“Get on your fuckin’ stomach,” he commanded. You obeyed, willing to do anything in your power to quell the iron-hot ache that made your pussy throb with want. The second your palms hit the mattress he grabbed you, hands bruising your love handles and ass as he yanked you back to him, shoving your face down into the pillows. With your cheek pressing into the mattress, face squishing into your elbow, all of the oxygen was pulled from your lungs. A beat of silence filled the void between you before a loud SMACK followed by a stinging pain radiating from your ass. 

SMACK. “That was for the back talk.”

SMACK. “That was for scarin’ me t’night.”

SMACK. “And that was for makin’ me have to wait this long to fuck your stubborn ass.” 

Drool dripped from the corner of your mouth and onto the sheets as you chewed your lip, trying (and failing) to dull the harsh, hot pain. Hands gripping your hips, bruising and rough, he yanked you back to meet his front. His cock jammed in between your cheeks as he grinded on you, kneading your ass to mold around him. 

“You’re gonna take me,” he rasped, low and throaty. “All of me.”

You felt him line himself up with your entrance, his girthy head poking and prodding at your entrance. A beat. Hesitation from both of you before he finally snapped forward, plunging into you, filling you, stretching you wider than you could’ve imagined. Once inside, he paused, shifting inside you, cursing breathlessly at the perfect fit. You groaned and desperately shifted your hips in silent hope that Bucky would fucking move. The stretching, the fullness, everything gnawed at your insides that were begging for release. For pleasure. 

“F-fuck Bucky, please–!” He slowly, painfully, rolled his hips in small, dragged-out thrusts before pulling out of you with the most self-control you’d ever see from him and jamming right back into you. 

“Fuck! Again! Please, again!” 

He obeyed you; his hips gradually began to pick up speed, thrusting erratically into you. 

“Gimme your arm,” he gritted between hissed curses. Your brain was on a three-second delay between hearing him and when you started to twist; too slow for Bucky’s liking, he growled, bending– and, in turn, stuffing himself until his base scraped your ass– to grab your arm, pinning against your back with a stern hold. The pain, the pleasure, the all-of-it fanned the flames inside you, growing hotter and hotter and threatening to implode. 

“‘M so close, baby, so–” he gasped, “Fuck, where do I–?”

“Back,” you answered, muffled against the sheets. “My back, I– ah!” You clenched around him, locking him in place as the implosion erupted within you. White-hot flashes of intense pleasure shot through your veins like a lethal shock. You screamed. You trembled. You felt the most all-consuming release rock you to your core, all while Bucky drilled into you harder, faster, his own coil on the brink of snapping. His hips began to stutter into you while you rode your high, mewling when it was time to pull from you in a hurry, his fist furiously pumping the last few seconds. A pleasured cry came from his body as hot ropes shot onto you, painting your skin in warm bursts, cum pooling where your spine arced. He groaned. Fist slowing in pumps, he fell onto the covers next to you in a heap as you cautiously lowered your back.

For a minute it was just your labored breathing echoing one another. The smell of sex lingered in the air, the distant sounds of the streets below and within the quiet building were muffled by the walls of the bedroom. It felt like forever before the bed shifted. Bucky stood, fumbling around on the ground for his discarded briefs. Kneeling back onto the bed, you flinched at the suddenly soft touch of fabric as he cleaned you up, wiping your skin until satisfied. He tossed the boxers back onto the ground somewhere unseen, rolling over back to his place next to you. You couldn’t help the smile on your lips, biting it back as you flipped over to look at Bucky, who was already staring at you with a soft smile. 

“Thanks.”

He shrugged in response. “Looks like we both needed it.”

You nodded. “Does this mean ’m still sleeping on the fuckin’ couch?”

“Hm. No, I’ll let you off the hook,” he said, grabbing the covers and pulling them over you both.

“I think I like being off the hook better than being on it.”

“Mhmm, sure,” he hummed. The covers shrouded you as he placed a metal hand on your cheek, rubbing his thumb in soft circles as he pulled you in for another electrifying kiss.

[princessmaeee]

{ All For Us Part II } Part I

Hello and Welcome to the part Two of All for Us ! I'm so happy this little story seem to please people. I still don't really know How to describe in the good way what this story will be, but so far I thing something like ; Toxic relation and healing process are good terms for it.

I hope you will enjoy this part as much as you enjoyed the firts part. My only negativ recap from this part is ; Im sorry for the ending I feel like I rushed it and also sorry for the lac of word or expression. If someone want to help me or correct something or even help me rewrith some parts hit me Up. I will not say No if it can make it better.

TW : Mention of drug, smut without Smut ( Started but never ended) Toxic relation, cheating

Tags : @private-vampire @rafesbunniebby

When you came back in the main Room, you return to the bed you awaken and sit on it. Your arms was wrapped around your legs as you try to breath to not start to cry. You wasn’t sure if all you felt was cause of the pregnancy, the stress or just cause you stopped abruptly to take drugs some months ago. Your mind was set to not take it but your body just want to feel high again. Also you would not be again’t not feeling stress Right Now.

You spotted Thano’s purple hair in the crowd as he mad his way to you with another guy before sitting in your bed, in front of you. He’s eyes was locked on you as you try to look like nothing matter, but your wet eyes and slightly trembling body betrayed You.

«-You didn’t seem to feel Alright, flower. »

He gave a Look at his friend, asking him to leave us alone for a moment. When He left, Thanos got closer to you. If you felt better you would have kicked his ass far from you, but you hardly have energy ton control the hurricane of emotions in your body right now.

Thanos put his arms around your shoulders before whispering something in your ear.

«-Maybe you need one of my special treats, for energy. I bring t some with me. -Scram, looser.»

Your voice was low, but the tone was hatfull. Thanos simply turn his head to look at you and raised an eybrow. He knew something was wrong.

«-Y/N … i’m serious. You didn’t seem fine. We already talked about that. If you want to quit drugs you can’t just do it like this. Your body will still crave it and if you refuse him his usual treat, he will make you go feral.»

A small sarcastic smile appear on your face. You Eyes was locked on what happen in the crowd in front of you, ignoring what the other talked about.

«-You mean, like you did ? No. I will not be like you.»

Thanos sight and let go of you to place himself again in front of you to have eyes contact with you.

«-I know i wasn’t the best boyfriend. I know I fucked up, but I swear I didn’t cheated on you. So please, let me help you.»

He get out the cross to his necklace and opened it, After taking care no one was looking at you, and took one little pill and put it your hand. You looked at the small thing with a lot of hesitation. He gave this to you, for free. You could just swallow it and let the anxiety fly away, but it will be an horrible mistake. This could be the death of your child and the win your body crave for. Also a Win for Thanos who think giving you drug is the real and also the best way to help you.

You closed your eyes, took a deep breath as your hand was place one your belly like you tried to protect your child.

«-I can’t.

Your voice was shaky, just like you refuse to take the pill to gave you good conscience but it was just really hard to say no when all you need is that small little thing to make you feel better.

-Excuse-me, what ? What do you mean you can’t ? »

Thanos seems really surprised to ear you say no to this. That was one of your favorite drug before.

Giving him back his pill you opened your eyes and answered with more confidence.

«-I can’t. I don’t want to touch that shit ever again.»

The rapper looked at the pill in your hand and took it back, unsure and still surprised. He was about to say something but was cut by the crowd asking to leave, to do a vote. The guard agreed but first, they showed you and the rest of the alive competitors the amount of money you had collected after one game. If you all take the decision to leave, you will end up with more money than when you arrived but it wasn’t enough to pay your debts, but was it worth risking your life ? 

The vote started with player 456 who voted to go back home. You will pass in the last ones, it give you time to think about what you're gonna do.

You weren't surprised to see Thanos vote to stay.

When it was finally your turn, get up of your bed and walk to the machine, looking at the two buttons and the numbers of vote. It was 50/50

As much as you wish to go home, stay alive and never have to see Thano’s face ever again, the money you will receive from all the people who died in the first game, to had put your life in danger, it wasn’t enough. Not enough to clear you debts or to raise a child. Plus, here you will not find a way to put your hand on drug again. At least if you could leave with a little more money to go in detox, it will be the best. That’s why you choose to stay.

You felt sorry for everyone who wanted to go home, you will maybe choose to leave after the next game.

Before going to bed, you had to go to the bathroom. You didn’t felt so good, all the stress, the blood, the weird smell everywhere gave you nausea and you could hold in anymore. You took the first cabinet and throw up. You wasn’t sure if it was just the pregnancy but for once you had doubts about it, it just didn’t help.

«-I’m sorry… I’m sorry to put you in all this danger. To make you feel all those harsh emotions…»

Still throwing up, you felt tears on your face. You could hold in anything anymore. Everything was too much for a day.

«-One more game… and we are going home. I swear. »

You cried out as you flush the toilet. You let all your negative emotion out until you heard someone knock at your cabin door.

«-I’m sorry, I overheard you and I felt worried. Are you alright there ? -Yeah, wonderful, you answered with a lot of sarcasm, best day of my life.»

You sniffled and whipped your tears before get up of your feets and leaving the cabin. You found yourself face to face with another young girl with the number 222 or her hoodie. She looked at you with some concern. On the other part of her top, you could see a X. She voted to go home and cause of your vote, you denied her that fate. You felt like it was the best decision to stay, but you also felt so much guilt.

«-You talked alone ? She asked you. -Yeah, exactly. »

You are not here to make friends and you dont know her. You will not start to explain all your worries to a perfect stranger.

«-Can I ask you something  ? She asked as you made your way to the sink -You already did but yeah sure. -Why did you choose to Stay ? -Why did you choose to leave ?»

You saw her in the mirror, putting her hand on her belly while she looked at it with a worried look in her eyes.

«-Because I’m pregnant.»

Now you felt more guilty. You was in the same boat in this situation. What a Hellhole, two pregnants womens for one game. As you watch the water flow in your hands, you sigh heavily and close it, still looking at the sink.

«-So Am I. That’s why I chose to stay for at least one other game. I need this money to clear debts and at least go to therapy before I give birth. I don’t want my child to leave like I used to the last two years.»

You opened up so easily and mentally cursed yourself, you knew you shouldn't but you felt better now. Maybe Life put her on your way to show you that you are not alone.

«-How many months ? She asked.-I don’t really Know, for around 2 months. I realized it after I left my boyfriend, almost two months ago.»

She slowly get closer to You as you turn around to face her. You noticed her belly, it was bigger than yours, but with the baggy clothes it’s easy to hide. You should be able to hide it from Thanos without any problems. Your bum his only visible when your remove your cloths or show that part of your body, witch mean ; Never.

«-Why are you here ? You asked Her. -I need money to raise the kid on my own and the father put me in debt. I want a fresh start, but I never thought it would be a deadly games. What about You ? -Not that different from You. Addicted dad, drugs debts for both of us, also other things with an internet guy who scammed him and He lost everything. »

You continued your little chat with player 222 until a guard knocked at the door, asking You to get out. When the lights will turn off you need to be In your bed. 

You both left the bathroom to go back to the main room.

Once In your bed and the lights off, you weren't sleepy at all. You had too much on your mind, starting with Thanos and how you left him. Since you saw him cheating on you, you often have nightmares about that, waking up with the horrible feeling of not being  enough, cause that’s exactly what you felt that day.

Two Months Ago

You were awakened by Thano’s soft kisses on your Body. You could feel every one of them, starting by the corner of your lips, going down on your jaw, your neck, your shoulders. Your skin felt like melting under his lips. You could feel him smile as he continued his way down, kissing your collarbone as his hands found their place on your hips, pressing you against his more than awake boner. Having such an effect on him makes you smile as you open your eyes. The light coming from the big window of his apartment felt like aggression. Your eyes shut again as the headache started to hit. You were probably a little bit hungover from last night. 

When Thanos noticed you were awake, he smiled and slowly slid his hands under the Big t-shirt of his that you borrow every night, claiming it as your pajama.

«-Good morning Beautiful,  he said as he came back to kiss your neck. -Good morning, you answered as you tried again to open your eyes.»

This time, it was easier and the sun didn’t feel like your eyes were melting. You could see the beautiful smile of your boyfriend as his lips joined yours for a passionate kiss. Passing your arms around his neck, you answered the kiss with as much passion as him.

His Hands, still on your hips until now, started moving up to your breast, gently squeezing it . A shiver passed through your body when you felt the cold air on your exposed skin since your T-shirt followed Thanos hands. 

Your boyfriend ended the kiss and he took his time to look at you. Flushed cheeks, heavy breathing, exposed breast  with hard nipple who seem to call for his mouth. 

«-Fuck, baby, your are so beautifull.»

You didn’t know what you could answer. Thanos was one of those men who make you blush with that kind of praise. You liked that and He knew it.

With a Smile, he opened the drawer close to the bed and put out a stack of pills. For a second you thought he would take a condom but his priorities seemed to be for something else.

«-Do you really like that ? You asked, unsure. -Relax beautiful, it will just make the experience better, for both of us. »

He was about to take the pill when you stopped him.

«-Thanos, you don’t need that to make love to me.»

That’s when reality hits you like a car at full speed. You don’t even remember one time, in two years, when you was sober when it came to intimacy.

«-We can do it without, this time.-Why ? We always used to fucked when we was high. Believe my experience, it’s better.»

Fuck, not even making love. All of that made you feel suddenly uncomfortable. Gently, you pushed him from above you and replace you T-shirt to cover your body. All that just turned you off.

«-Is that what it is for you ? We just fuck.  -Fucking, Banging, Hoocked up , making love. All the same. Why is that suddenly such a Big deal ? -I don’t know, I just feel like it’s wrong. We shouldn't have to be high every time we have intimacy.»

Thanos' sight as he got up and took the pill.

«-Fuck off. You turned me off with your princess shit, he said as he left the room to go to the bathroom.»

That day was no fun. You had a great time the other night after his show, you came home late, drunk and probably high and now this. Thanos never liked when people tell him how to act or how he should feel, but you should have this right, at least to make the best out of him, but when you try he just push you away.

You barely talked that day. He had another show at the same bar from yesterday and had to work on some songs, so you let him work in peace. You spent your day in a coffee shop, thinking about what happened this morning, until you realised nothing was right in this relation. You didn’t even remember him telling you he loved you. All he always said was about how good you locked, or how beautiful you was, how much fun he had with you, but never how much he loved you, and somehow that broke your heart.

You could have wait until he came home to talk to him, but you knew He will probably be to tired and too high to have a serious conversation, si you showed up at the bar before he started his show. Making your way to his private room, you was about to enter but you stopped when you heard a feminine voice coming from there. The door was a little bite opened so you could see what was happening there. That’s how you knew. The vision broke your heart more than it already was. 

You saw a random girl sit on the table in the middle of the room and your boyfriend passionately kissing her. You knew Thanos for long enough to know that kind of passion. It was the ‘’ I will fuck you right here and right now ‘’ kind of one. 

You saw enough so you just left with tears in your eyes and even less than a broken heart.

[sanarsi]

sanarsi’s 2024 favs

I wanted to say at the beginning that this year was an incredible metamorphosis for me, full of happiness and tears but there were definitely more good moments! I’ve been here for less than half a year and honestly? I’ve fallen in love with this fandom. You’re wonderful, I haven’t met such nice people on the internet in a long time who offer so much support. I can’t even describe how grateful I am for the interactions with you and I hope for even more next year!

Someone told me that I should start appreciating my work so that’s what I’m going to do so thank you @iamasaddie @evolnoomym and @gothcsz for the tags. Love you so much!

Adventure here is a great way to spend my free time, and I hope that with time I will be better at this little hobby of mine to give you even more stories that will be more and more emotional and hot! I don’t have many works and they are all fanfics so I’ll try to choose just a few :)

One Shots

Euphoria with prof Joelllll love that protective man

Okay so actually I really like this shot, I spent some time on it and surprisingly I wrote it faster than much shorter ones. It didn’t have any corrections like most of my works, so it has some mistakes, but I’m determined to improve all of them. I like this vibe and the fact that it’s long enough to get lost in it.

Sweet treat DDDNE obsessed Joel? gimme

Over time I discovered that I was really into that dark topics??? idk but I really enjoyed writing this sick side of my lovely man. I want him to be as fucked up as possible hihi

Cheri Cheri Lady love step daddy vibes with Reed

Something about this man awakens the wild animal in me. I love him and the fact that he will be a wonderful exemplary man only to do all the nasty things with us later. Ughhh gimme that man right now.

Flying days and nights angst with my sweet boy Dieter

This one was wonderful and I discovered that I really like writing angst. I like to come back to it sometimes to give myself some hope in shitty moments. It’s just so neutral but pleasant to read. Really like this one!

Controversially young girlfriend tlou old Joel? don’t need anything else

This has become a classic in some way? One of my first works that gained huge reach which delights me. I fell in love with him and that’s exactly how I’d want him — not caring about the opinions of others and loving me more than life itself, gentle and tender.

Goddess with hubby Oberyn ahhh

That’s exactly how I imagine his love. I love these sweet and emotional shots because sometimes I need a shot of tenderness especially from a man like him.

Hunter/Prey and my faveee dark Dinnnn

I remember that I really liked this shot but it’s probably because I have a soft spot for this masked man. Not to say anything but…. I would do anything for him. Like— ANYTHING.

And I think that’s it? I would like to give more but in other works I know I could give more and I will because I really like most of the ideas I came up with and I know that they just need a little more attention to refine them so that they can come back to you better.

Lovely Moots

I would like to tag everyone, unfortunately tumblr won’t let me but know that I love and appreciate you all. I’ve chosen a few people who have really made my time on this app more enjoyable and I want you to know that I love interacting with you and reading your works. I’ve never seen so many talented people. Yall deserves everything and even more 🫶🏼

@evispunk @pedgito @punkshort @iamasaddie @aurorawritestoescape @laligraves @ace-turned-confused @studioghibelli @xdaddysprincessxx @21stcenturywitchcraft @gothcsz @itsokbbygrl @alwaysmicado @almostempty @syd-djarin @pattwtf @amyispxnk @joelmillerisapunk @joelssluttyknee @mrs-hardy-hunnam-butler-pascal @604to647 @slimybeth69 @eloquentlytired @evolnoomym @toomanystoriessolittletime @penascigarette @mermaidgirl30 @punkygreeny

[octrainrider]

no strings attached – genji shimada

NSFW!!! MINORS DNI!!!!

a/n: hello, first post on my new blog >:3 this note is gonna be long and ramble-y so feel free to skip it. to begin with, everything about this fic was unplanned. i never planned on my first post here being overwatch related, nor did i plan on it being porn, but here we are with overwatch porn. and then, i was only trying to write a short 1-2k word valentine's day smut, but it is 2 days after valentine's and this fic is 5.5k words long with layers like a cake. this is the first thing i've written for overwatch, and also the first smut i've written in 2 years, so i may be rusty. i hope you enjoy it anyway.

word count: 5.5k

tags/summary: porn with plot (kind of), mild angst?, idiots in love. you invite genji over, hoping that having sex with him would help you get over the annoying feelings you have for him. that doesn't happen for you.

warnings: no pronouns used for reader, female genitalia is vaguely described tho, unprotected sex

edited to add: this fic is now on my ao3 as well! thanks to @smol-dragon for reminding me :3

"damn it. fuck."

you lock your phone and squeeze your eyelids shut, forcing the screen out of your vision, and throw your head back against the pillow in frustration. this is so, so stupid, you tell yourself, and it is stupid, yet you can't let it go.

you were an adult– you shouldn't be having inner turmoil about how you wanted to have sex with someone. it wasn't anything you hadn't done before, but for some reason, it was suddenly impossible to navigate.

"damn you, genji," you mutter, slapping one of your hands against your forehead.

this was all his fault. you'd never felt the urge to have sex with a coworker, honestly, the thought had never even crossed your mind... or at least, that was true until you met genji. you ignored your attraction to the cyborg at first– sure, he was nice to look at and had an alluring air of danger about him, but he was no different from cassidy in that regard. you figured whatever attraction you had to him would quickly dissipate into nothing, as it did with the cowboy, but to your dismay, it only grew stronger.

at first, you found yourself admiring the intricacy of his cybernetic body parts, and then his combat style. then, you found yourself staring at him for much longer, entranced by his form and the way he spoke.

genji himself did absolutely nothing to alleviate you of your newly-contracted disease. in fact, it almost seemed that he intentionally made it worse. he'd jump to your aid in combat, ghost his fingers across you in passing, and you caught him casting you lingering glances, though you could never tell what thoughts were going on behind his actions.

you told yourself it was probably nothing, that you were being delusional and trying to convince yourself that your crush (if you could call it that) was reciprocated. you were almost successful in convincing yourself to let it go, but the interaction between the two of you today not only reignited your thoughts of him, but intensified them.

genji had been in one of the sparring ranges at headquarters, dutifully practicing his aim, though you didn't really think it was necessary. you were observing, over-exaggerating your interest in his technique as an excuse to be around him, and offhandedly made a comment about wishing you could use a sword.

"i'd be happy to teach you," genji had replied.

you jumped at the offer, but severely overestimated yourself in terms of your sword-wielding capabilities. it looked easy, but maybe that was just because you'd only ever seen genji do it, and he made it seem effortless. after failing miserably, you were ready to crawl into a hole and die of embarrassment, but genji seemed determined to teach you.

he'd walked up behind you, using one hand to correct your posture, and the other to guide your hands into the correct position along the sword's hilt. you were almost literally on fire underneath his touch, and it was suddenly very difficult to focus on what you were doing.

"i think this might be a waste of time," you'd commented, staring down intently at the sword in your hands so genji couldn't see how red your face was. "i'm afraid i may be a difficult person to teach."

"i'll gladly teach you about anything you want to learn," genji said, standing entirely too close to you with his hands on your shoulder and wrist. "no matter how difficult you may be."

(y/n.exe has stopped working.)

you stared back at him, wide-eyed, with every functional part of your brain failing you. fortunately for you, your phone rang, interrupting the uncomfortable sexual tension that had suddenly filled the room. mercy was calling, requesting your help with something 'important'. after pretending you were really sorry for leaving so abruptly, you practically ran out of the room, silently thanking the doctor for calling you at the best possible time and giving you a get-out-of-jail free card.

you sat through the tactical meeting with mercy and tracer, though you had absolutely no helpful feedback to offer. your mind was fixed on genji the entire time, and your skin still felt hot from where his hands had been. i really need to get laid, you thought, this is pathetic.

now, even though it was hours later, you were still in the same predicament. try as you might, your brain absolutely refused to focus on anything or anyone besides genji. your television had long since blurred into background noise, bits and pieces of some stupid rom-com becoming the soundtrack to your turmoil.

maybe i should just text him... you think, for the millionth time. it was easy, or at least, it should have been easy. finding someone to screw wasn't usually this difficult for you, and you usually didn't care one way or another, but the thought of genji rejecting you was terrifying. even worse was the thought of having to see him again afterwards.

your mind goes back to the sparring range, and you swallow harshly. 'desperate' was never a word you'd use to describe yourself before, but now... when it came to genji, it was kind of an understatement.

"fuck it," you say aloud, swallowing your pride and unlocking your phone.

- hey. are you busy?

he starts typing immediately. how scary.

- i am not. do you need something?

- kind of. i have... a question.

"i am such a fucking loser," you mutter as you watch genji's text bubble appear on the screen.

- what is it?

suddenly, you didn't want to ask anymore. maybe you could go out for drinks with cassidy instead of doing this. you stare blankly at the screen for a while.

- ???

- actually, nevermind. it's embarrassing.

- surely no worse than your attempt at swordsmanship?

- sorry, that was a joke.

- wow, okay. definitely not asking now :'(

- come on.

- okay. do you wanna...

- have sex? with me?

you watch in horror as he starts typing, then stops, then starts again.

- are you serious?

- that is entirely dependent on your answer.

- why... are you asking me?

- i don't know how to answer that.

- i'm definitely taking that as a no.

- i didn't say that.

- well, you didn't say yes either...

- i'm not sure i understand what you're getting at here

- not sure what you mean by that. i'm just asking to have sex

- for the record, i'm not expecting you to be my boyfriend or anything

- just a one time thing. no strings attached

- no strings attached? lol

- okay

okay? okay? what the hell was 'okay' supposed to mean?

- are you there?

- yes. an answer?

- if you're gonna say no i'd like to go ahead and get it over with so that i can go get drunk enough to forget my shame lmao

- that won't be necessary.

- the answer is yes. obviously

your heart almost stops beating for a second. surely this, too, was a joke.

- seriously? like... actually?

- ...

- yes?

- wow! unexpected.

- are you free? like... tonight, maybe?

- i'll be there. 20 minutes?

twenty minutes? was that enough time to prepare? you immediately scramble out of bed to your dresser, searching for something risqué to wear. you owned an obscene amount of lingerie, but for some reason, none of it seemed good enough for the occasion.

you knew enough about genji's past to know that he'd been with more than his fair share of people, and though you weren't inexperienced by any means, it had been a while– most of your time had been dedicated to overwatch lately. you were sure that the names and faces of genji's old lovers blurred together, and although you specifically said 'no strings attached', you wanted to make the best possible impression. even if you never slept together again, you wanted to be memorable, at the very least.

eventually, you realize you're running short on time and opt to put on your personal favorite set. it had never steered you wrong before. you quickly change into it and throw on an oversized hoodie with some random game logo on it– very basic, you noted, but you didn't want to look like you were trying too hard, although you definitely were.

after checking the time, you wander aimlessly around the house waiting for genji to arrive. you definitely weren't nervously pacing from room to room, overanalyzing every aspect of this situation– no, that is not at all what you were doing. before long, you hear a knock at the door. your anxiety spikes through the roof, but you do your best to get a hold of yourself as you walk to the foyer to let genji in.

when you open the door, you see genji, as expected, and he looks the same as always. there was nothing special about his outfit (because why would there be?) and you're very glad you didn't decide to wear something over-the-top. he's also wearing a mask, as usual, but you can actually see his eyes with this one.

"i like your shirt," he says casually. "good game."

you blink at him, having been completely lost in the crimson pools of his irises.

"oh, yeah, it is," you reply, nodding in affirmation. "um, come inside."

he laughs quietly as he steps through the doorway, and you furrow your brows at him in confusion, but decide to ignore it and move on. you lead genji through the house, mentally grasping for straws as to where to go from here. to be honest, you didn't think you'd get this far, so you're at a complete loss.

"sorry, i feel like this feels really weird. i don't usually... sleep with my coworkers," you explain as you reach the bedroom.

genji's eyes are fixed on you, and despite having a clear view of them, you still can't tell what he's thinking. it proves to be very anxiety-inducing.

"i didn't think you did," he says.

"thanks? i think?" you reply, unsure of how else to react. "i'm going to warn you that this might actually go really, really badly, because i haven't slept with anyone in a while, and you kind of make me really nervous, and i also don't–"

you're cut off by genji moving closer to you and moving his hand towards your face. the action causes your words to vanish and your train of thought to come to a screeching halt. you stare at him with wide eyes as he moves a stray strand of hair from your face and brushes it behind your ear.

"i make you nervous?" he asks, an amused tone to his question. "you? nervous?"

you can feel heat rush to your cheeks, and you're hyper-aware of his hand lingering near your face, but despite this you try your best to sound cool. "yeah, i know, it's pretty hard to believe! but it's true."

genji laughs. "you're funny."

"i am?"

"yeah," he replies. his dark eyes are sparkling a bit, and although you can't see it, you can tell that he's smiling beneath the mask.

you look away from his face, your gaze falling to his hand. it's still in the air, close enough to your cheek that you can feel the warmth, but not quite touching you. he seems... strangely hesitant to touch you, so you decide to take the initiative.

genji's eyes widen a bit as you reach out and cup his face, brushing your thumb across the sleek metal of his mask.

"are you planning to keep this on?" you ask.

genji freezes in place, visibly caught off guard by your question. "i–"

you giggle at his reaction. "hey, no pressure. it doesn't matter to me. i'll still think you're hot either way."

"i fear you'll change your mind about that," he mutters.

you frown, unsure of what to say. "there really isn't anything that could make me change my mind about you, genji. but seriously, do whatever you're comfortable with."

he makes a quiet noise in response, and you can see in his eyes that he's thinking carefully about what to do. after a few seconds of silence, he holds your wrist and moves it away with one hand, then carefully removes his mask with the other. you can't help but stare, not only because you're surprised that he actually chose to remove his mask, but because he's even better looking than you had imagined– scars and all.

he looks at you, eyes filled with uncertainty, and clearly a bit uncomfortable.

"you're staring. sorry to disappoint. i can put it back on, if you'd prefer..." he says quietly, as if he's ashamed. it's sad, enough so to distract you from your mission of keeping things clean and simple.

you shake your head and wrap your arms around his neck, staring up at him with a reassuring smile. "i'd prefer if you didn't, actually. i can't believe you didn't tell me you were so good-looking underneath that mask."

"i... don't think that's a term i'd use. not anymore, at least," he says, not meeting your gaze. "but i'm glad that you think so."

genji hesitantly puts his hands on your hips, his eyes fixed on the logo on your hoodie. he doesn't seem to know how to react to your compliments, but there's a shy smile on his face nonetheless.

"i mean, i thought you were hot enough before. it never occurred to me that you could manage to be even hotter," you tell him with a smirk.

he looks up at you, blushing profusely, and you're filled with a sense of satisfaction. "i, um, didn't realize you felt so strongly about me."

you look away, deciding to ignore that comment, and begin to trail one of your hands from his neck to his collarbone, then down his abdomen, which was unfortunately covered by his clothes.

"well, the mask is off. that's one thing down," you say, toying with the hem of his hoodie. "just a few more to go."

genji doesn't hesitate to reach down and tug off the hoodie, discarding it on the floor. he wasn't wearing a shirt underneath, and he also wasn't wearing his usual metal plating. his right arm and part of his right upper torso are still made of flesh, as well as most of his midsection. the left side of his body is cybernetic, but it ends just above his hips. you find yourself staring at the intricate and seamless fusion of metal and muscle, your attention focusing in on the sharp outline of his hip bones.

a question pops into your head, but you don't have the audacity to say it out loud– is his dick cybernetic? the thought had never occurred to you before, but you also had never seen just how much of him was still made of skin and bone. honestly, it didn't matter to you either way, but it was an interesting thought. guess i'll find out soon, you think.

genji is staring at you with a strange look on his face, and you're suddenly worried you may have said something out loud.

"something wrong?" he asks. "you look... confused."

"i do?" you ask, surprised. "i was just... curious. about the cybernetic stuff. i've never really seen it up close."

"i see."

you walk over to the bed and climb on top of it, beckoning genji over to you. he follows, but stands still beside you.

"come here," you say, reaching for his hand. "i want a closer look."

he smirks and nods, quickly climbing into the bed and positioning himself on his knees between your legs. you trace the outline of his abs, running your fingers along the border of skin and metal, taking in every detail, and then you realize that he's staring at you again.

"what?" you ask.

"you're overdressed," he says. "i want to look at you, too."

"oh," you pause, realizing that you were in fact still (mostly) fully clothed. "you can take the hoodie off."

genji's hands immediately move to pull at your top. you reposition yourself to make it easier, and you watch as he tosses it into the now-growing pile on the floor alongside his own jacket.

you can hear his breathing grow shallow, and you look back up at him nervously. he's staring down at you with wide, dark eyes, with his hands clenched into fists atop his thighs.

"damn," he breathes. "you're... really the most attractive person i've met."

it's not as though you had notably low self-esteem or anything, but genji's reaction was far more than you expected, and the attention makes you feel embarrassed.

"that definitely feels like flattery, but i'll let it slide," you reply. you're mostly teasing him, but you're also kind of serious– 'most attractive person i've met' is an extremely bold statement to make, especially coming from someone with a track record like genji's.

"flattery? you really think so?" genji asks, seeming to be genuinely taken aback by the accusation.

"mm, it doesn't really matter," you reply, desperate to cut this conversation off before it derails. come on, y/n do not get your feelings involved in this, damn it.

genji leans over you, propping himself up with one arm and lifting your chin with the other. he stares at you with an intimidating intensity, but you can't bring yourself look away from him.

"i'm not that kind of man anymore," he says, his tone serious. you look down at his lips, and before you can form a response, he kisses you.

the kiss is just as intense as the stare he'd been giving you, and it takes a moment for you to register that it's even happening. once you kiss him back, it grows into something more needy. his tongue finds its way into your mouth, and you try your hardest to suppress a whine. you reach to tangle your fingers in his hair and subtly pull his body closer to yours, while genji cups your face with his free hand, the cool metal a stark contrast to the heat radiating from your cheeks.

the kiss seems to go on forever, progressively becoming more sensual. you're so lost in the moment that you temporarily forget that you need to breathe. eventually, both of you pull away for air, lips slightly puffed, and eyes half-open, filled with desire.

you press one of your hands against genji's chest, the other still toying with his hair. he's slumped against you, now leaning against his elbow instead of his hand. your body is flush against his, and you can feel his hard-on pressing against you. you softly grind your hips against him, creating just enough friction to cause you both to inhale sharply.

genji looks down at you, his eyes slowly grazing over your body. he sits up, leaning back on his haunches, looking as though he was deep in thought.

"genji?"

your voice doesn't draw his attention back to your face, but he responds, brows still furrowed. "yeah?"

"touch me," you tell him, almost begging. "please."

he smirks. "sure."

he leans back over you, his face so close to yours that you can see every detail of the scars that paint his skin. the two of you stare into each others eyes, and he pushes your underwear aside without even glancing down. his human hand cups your face, and the metal one assumes its position between your legs.

the sensation of cool, smooth metal against your clit elicits a gasp from you, and genji seems hesitant. he draws his hand back, staring down at it with a forlorn expression.

"sorry," he says. "i... kind of forgot."

you reach for his wrist and pull his hand back to where it had been, shaking your head.

"no, it's fine. you don't need to apologize," you tell him. he still looks unsure, but he doesn't argue.

genji toys with your clit with expert precision, and as much as you enjoy it, your patience starts to wane. as if he can tell, he directs his attention elsewhere, carefully and almost hesitantly inserting two of his fingers into you. you whimper at the feeling, clenching around the unfamiliar texture. it's an entirely new feeling– putting metal there was never something you thought to do, nor did you ever really imagine what it would feel like– but it's good. it's obvious that genji is worried he'll hurt you, or that you won't like it, and you have what you hope will be an easy solution to his concerns.

you bite your lip, looking up at him with your best 'fuck me' eyes, and let go of the restraint you were trying to show. you didn't want to look desperate, but clearly he needed more reassurance that you wanted this– that you wanted him. a string of swear words, interrupted by panting and lewd noises, leaves your mouth, and you rut your hips against his hand, urging him to go deeper.

it seems to work. the dark look that was lingering on genji's face was replaced with a spark, and his movements become more free, no longer limited by the shackles of his insecurity. his well-earned confidence starts to shine through, and you smile in satisfaction, but only for a moment. with genji now seemingly returned to his former playboy glory, you find yourself unable to think straight, too busy writhing under his touch, crying out his name and clenching at the sheets.

"i could get used to hearing you say my name like that," genji comments, a teasing grin on his face.

oh god, please shut up, you think. it was almost as if he wanted you to fall in love with him or something, which was definitely not a part of your plan– in fact, it was the exact opposite of what you wanted.

"don't... say– fuck," you want to tell him not to say things like that, but you're overwhelmed with the feeling of your fast-approaching orgasm. what unfortunate timing. "gonna cum."

genji picks up the pace, unable to decide if he wants to look at your face or at his fingers as he pumps them in and out of you. you attempt to clench your thighs together, though genji's body blocks the action, and as you come undone, he decides the best thing for him to look at is your expression.

you squirm beneath genji, eyes squeezed shuts and knuckles turning white from the force with which you're grasping at your bedsheets. he watches carefully, taking in every minute detail of the way you look when you cum, while still fucking his fingers into you as you ride out the high of your orgasm. once you still, he slides his fingers out, the matte grey now slick and shiny. you open your eyes just in time to watch him pop his fingers in his mouth. he looks back at you through half-lidded eyes, a devious smirk on his face as he watches your already blown-out pupils widen at his actions. to add icing to the cake, he licks his lips, and suddenly you think 'wow, i'd let him do anything to me'.

"god," you mutter, shifting awkwardly. you were trying to rub your thighs together at the thoughts coursing through your mind, but genji was in the way.

you trail your eyes along his body, coming to a halt at the bulge in his joggers. you reach for the waistband of his pants, tugging them down to the middle of his thigh, but the position he was sitting in prevented you from getting them any further. genji climbs off of the mattress and yanks his pants and boxers off himself, then proceeds to do the same with your underwear. the intensity of the hunger between the two of you was so thick it was almost physical, and you can't pull your eyes away from him.

to your surprise, his dick was made of flesh. not that you had any complaints either way– it was just unexpected. you take a moment to admire him, then reach out to pull him back into the bed with you. genji resumes his position between your legs, lifting them up so that your knees are at your chest. the two of you both look down, watching in anticipation as he slides inside of you. he slowly pushes himself in farther, continuing until he bottoms out.

you both moan, almost in sync, at the sensation, and make eye contact again. genji positions his arms on either side of your head and touches his forehead to yours, staring into your eyes, as you dig your nails into his shoulder. one of your hands finds its way back to his hair, gently tugging at the spiky black tufts, keeping him as close to you as you could.

it doesn't take long for genji to find a good rhythm, his thrusts deep and and on the slower side. each movement coaxes noises out of you– his name, mostly, but a few mewls and downright pornographic-sounding moans as well. he kisses you again, lustful and passionate, and slides his hand into your hair to cradle your head. he pulls away, trailing kisses from your jawline to your collarbone, a few of which will surely leave some faint marks. you're not worried about that though– the only person who'd have the gall to comment on it was cassidy, anyways.

"you sound so pretty," he mumbles into your neck.

your breath catches in your throat at his words, and your grip on his hair tightens slightly. he sounded so so hot, it sent a shiver down your spine. "mm," is the only response you can manage.

one particular thrust hits perfectly, and you short-circuit, digging your nails deep into genji's shoulder and whimpering his name. he lifts his head to look you in the eye, his eyes honing in on your lips. his movement becomes more insistent, and he kisses you again, muffling your moans.

for the next few minutes, the only sounds in the room were that of your needy whines, genji's panting and occasional grunts, and the soft skin-on-skin contact. genji was surprisingly much more gentle than you'd anticipated, affection dripping from every action. it was enough to make you start to feel a bit of regret about the whole 'one time only' spiel, but you couldn't really focus on that when he was looking at you, and touching you, and fucking you the way he was.

with the stimulation of genji inside of you, and the way he was purring praise and sweet nothings into your ear in between the barrage of kisses, it didn't take long for you feel your climax coming up. from the way genji was beginning to become more shaky and haphazard in his movements, you could tell the same was true for him.

"genji," you whisper. "i'm gonna cum."

he hums in response, furrowing his brow. "me too."

a few seconds of silence pass, and then genji looks... lost. "uh, where should i...?"

"wherever you want," you say, not really thinking. 'inside' was the first thing that came to mind, but that felt weird to say. was it weird to ask your coworker cum inside you? yeah, probably, but it couldn't be any weirder than the fact that you were having such intimate, needy sex with your coworker in the first place, right?

genji slows down and looks at you with wide eyes. "what? no preference?"

"um, i mean," you cut yourself off, biting your lip to suppress a moan. "i was gonna say inside, but like... up to you."

"are you serious? you want me to..."

so it was weird, you think, instantly regretting that you spoke. "do whatever you want."

genji stops moving, and you let out a pitiful involuntary whine.

"i'm asking, what do you want?"

does he want me to spell it out for him? you wonder. fuck it.

"i... want you to cum in me, genji," you say, looking him in the eye with a serious expression. you ignore the fact that your cheeks are almost literally burning, and also opt to ignore the little voice in your head chastising you for being so awkward.

a choked noise escapes him, and his face turns pink. he promptly hides himself in the crook of your neck again. after a few more thrusts, you can feel the burning pleasure of your orgasm reaching its peak, prompting you to cling tightly to genji. he leans back to watch, and as you clench around him, he loses his composure as well. a soft chorus of each others' names and 'fuck' fills the room as genji fucks you through your orgasm, neither of you breaking eye contact. genji leans in for another kiss as he cums. this time is somehow even more passionate than the others, and you immediately miss him when he leans back and pulls out.

you almost let an 'i love you' slip out, but immediately realize how stupid that would be, and opt to just shut your mouth entirely instead. a silence falls over the room, with the both of you breathing heavily and casting shy glances at one another as if you didn't just have passionate, unprotected sex. genji moves first, sliding into the bed beside you and propping his head up on his hand.

this is definitely going beyond what this was supposed to be, you tell yourself, but really, you're not mad about it. sure, the plan was originally for you guys to have meaningless sex and then pretend it never happened, but that plan started to crumble almost as soon as he walked through your door. you were still worried that you were reading too far into it– maybe he was like this with everyone he slept with.

"can i... be honest with you?" he asks. you nervously look over at him, an overwhelming sense of dread filling your stomach.

"yeah, of course," you reply casually. acting calm and collected when you were pretty sure you were about to hear something you really didn't want to hear was a trait you'd quickly adapted as an overwatch agent, and damn, were you thankful for it right now.

"i... haven't been with anyone in a long time," he admits. "like... since the accident."

you stay quiet. you're unsure of what to say, and you can tell he's not done talking, anyway.

"i couldn't fathom anyone wanting to be with me, considering... you know," genji sighs and averts his eyes. "i've liked you for so long, but i didn't think you'd be interested in me at all. i'm... barely even human."

you're still quiet, trying your best to process what he's saying.

"oh, yeah, sorry. i know you said this was a one time thing, and that's fine. i just thought you should know that you treating me like a person... and making me feel wanted... it means a lot," he continues. "even if it was just sex, i enjoy being around you."

"i'm... really in over my head," you mutter, mostly to yourself. "this is really unexpected, honestly. like, all of it. everything."

genji's face falls, and you realize that you misspoke. he shifts uncomfortably and starts to sit up, obviously preparing to leave. you reach for his arm, wrapping your hand carefully around the metal.

"not unwelcome, just unexpected. i... didn't want to get feelings involved because i was sure they wouldn't be returned," you explain. "you seemed kind of unapproachable. i was taking a shot in the dark."

genji laughs a little. "i seem to give that impression. it's not really the case... or at least, not with you."

you gently pull him back to your side, holding his face in your hands and giving him a quick kiss. you can't find the words to convey the emotions you feel, so you hope that touch would suffice. he presses his forehead against yours and wraps an arm around your waist, and the two of you just lay there, basking in each others' presence. this was... an unplanned turn of events, but you were much happier with this outcome.

"hmm. so much for the whole 'no strings attached' thing, huh?" you say quietly. "looks like there's definitely strings. lots of them."

genji laughs again, and you find your heart skipping a beat at the look on his face. yeah, there were so many strings tethering this man to your heart. you wanted to tell yourself that weren't sure how exactly you ended up like this, but the moment you saw him take off his mask and show you his most well-kept secret, you knew there was much more than sexual attraction there, and that there was no going back.

"thank you," genji says, pulling you out of your trance. "for... overlooking my flaws, liking me as i am. you're truly the most beautiful person i know."

you smile at him, feeling your heart quite literally melt at the way he's looking at you.

"you're beautiful, genji," you tell him. and he was. the scars and metal that made up his body weren't flaws– they were a part of him, therefore they were beautiful, too. they weren't something you had to overlook to find him captivating, but you'd tell him all about that at another time.

[thedgeoftheuniverse]

and i believe (because i can see) | post-outbreak!joel x f!reader

prologue — where we find ourselves

He told him how he thought that dog was going to rip her to shreds, and the only thing he could do was stand frozen in place because he’s not the man he used to be, no longer a ruthless killer who could have taken anyone and anything down in his path—he needed Tommy to understand that part. He needed Tommy to know that the only piece left of the man he once knew was the weak, aching flesh and bones sitting in front of him. He was no more capable of taking care of Ellie than he was of Sarah, but he was staring at him as though he were lying.

[ WARNINGS/TAGS ] loss of a child, angst, enemies to friends to lovers, grumpy!joel, angst, eventual smut (minors DNI!!), slow burn, canon-typical violence, cursing, joel miller desperately needs a good therapist and an even better hug, no use of y/n, no physical description of or named reader, shifting pov (see individual parts for warnings per chapter. please let me know if i miss anything. if any of these tags are triggering/upsetting/harmful to your wellbeing in any way, please do NOT interact.)

Winter came suddenly.

The summer had seemed to eternally endure, the heat from the sun leaving you drenched in sweat and with a constant sunburn across the bridge of your nose. The long days of trudging through woods and down back roads left your body hopelessly sapped of all energy and grotesquely deprived of proper hydration. A thin sheen of sweat seemed to permanently coat your body, leaving you feeling sticky and terribly uncomfortable; you had no intentions of concealing your discomfort, opting instead for—as your traveling companion charmingly described—incessant bitching. You've always found peace in the swaying of treetops and the warmth of the sun on your cheeks, but this was extreme, even by your standards. Nevertheless, the everlasting summer faded, as it always does, into an autumn that seemed to only last for a week or two, much to your disappointment.

Fall was stunning; a magnificent sea of yellows, oranges, and reds decorated canopies of trees, eventually falling and littering the ground and making a satisfying crunch underfoot. But then, as it always does, the fleeting autumn gave way to the bitterness of winter. A piece of you thought it came faster this year, as if the Earth was beginning to realize how far back it had fallen and desperately hoped that it could speed along the passage of time to correct some kind of miscalculation—a foolish notion. Nevertheless, you soaked up the fleeting weeks of fall with gratitude before you soured over winter. The harsh weather nestled into your bones, stiffening your joints and drying your skin—your knuckles remained almost permanently cracked and split during winter, regardless of gloves or warm evening fires. Perhaps there was a morbid beauty to the desolation of it all or a metaphor that would bring you some form of understanding for the misery you've endured. 

For the moment, though, you were just freezing.

The small campfire you huddled in front of did little to warm your freezing body; the cold, having seeped well into your skin, stiffened your joints and tinted your fingernails with a purple-ish hue.

“Need to find you a new jacket.” Joel’s voice breaking through the silent night momentarily startled you. You looked at your coat with a huff and recalled the events from that same morning—your once warm, tastefully worn coat now decorated with a large tear down your left arm. Had it not been for the thick material shielding you from the maw of that Clicker, you would likely have already turned or been shot by him.

“Not before you get some new boots, old man.” You lazily motioned towards his shoes, raising an eyebrow as he began his nightly task of taping rubber to leather.

“Funny.” He clearly was not amused. “I’m serious. You're gonna freeze to death.”

“Well, if you can find one out here,” you gestured to the expansive forest surrounding you, “then be my guest.” He rolled his eyes at you, though with less disdain than he used to; if anything, it was affectionate. “You could share some of that whiskey if you don't want me so cold.” He passed the tarnished silver flask to you with another roll of his eyes, and you took a swig of the smokey, bitter liquid. It was far from high quality; in fact, it was hardly drinkable, but it succeeded in filling your gut with a fuzzy warmth that spread through your body after another sip.

You noticed Joel staring at Ellie with a fearful glint in his eyes as she stood atop a rather large boulder, staring at green lights illuminating the sky. He was about to say something; you could only guess it was going to be an attempt to get her back on the ground. “Give her another minute. Who knows when she'll see it again?" He paused, looking as though he still wanted to say something. You could practically feel the anxiety radiating from his body. You knew he would deny it until the bitter end, but he worried for Ellie as if she were his own child; however reluctantly their relationship started, he’s wrapped around her little fingers, even if he hadn’t caught onto the fact. A part of you wished he had developed similar affections for you, but Joel seemed to have come to only tolerate you. Sure, he was not half as surly or aggressive towards you as when you first met—you were shocked he did not kill you on the spot, considering your previous affiliations—and he would engage in lighthearted conversation, but you sensed an underlying disdain.

The longer you traveled with him, the more it made your heart ache.

This was not part of the plan.

A high-pitched whistle broke your thoughts, followed by his gruff command: “Come on down from there. You’re gonna break your neck.” Reluctantly and with a hefty sigh, Ellie made her way from the rock after sparing a final, unobscured glance at the sky.

The rest of the evening passed in mostly amusing conversation. You chose not to participate, though you intently listened. You saw how Joel tensed up when Ellie asked what they—no, he—would do after the cure; it was a question that, until less than a year ago, was wholly absurd and could never be answered. His answer was not surprising. You never expected Joel to be the kind of man with ambitions of settling down with someone, living in a big city, or pursuing anything more than a life of solitude. The sheep, however, made you giggle to yourself, and he shot you an unserious glare in response. You also saw the way Ellie’s face lit up as she talked about space and “Sally Fuckin’ Ride” and the moon and stars, and the sadness (or was that guilt?) in Joel’s eyes when the conversation inevitably shifted to the loss of Henry and Sam, and how Ellie seemed to somehow feel responsible. It wasn’t long after that that she decided it was time for bed. 

“Do you wanna take first watch or second?” 

Joel sighed. “I’ll do both.” 

“No, you won’t. I’ll take second.” You piped up. Something in Joel’s eyes told you he would not be waking you up for the second watch, a debate you would have to settle at a later date.

“Get some sleep. Dream of..." he trailed off for a moment. “Sheep ranches on the moon.”

/ / /

Joel, in fact, did not wake you up for second watch. Not because Joel himself took both first and second, but because he fell asleep less than three hours into the night. He awoke from a fitful sleep with a start, distress seeping into his bones as he realized the sun had risen, he was asleep, and he did not know where Ellie or you were. He shot awake, his eyes glazed over with panic as he looked to you, still asleep on the ground, and then to Ellie, who was standing watch with the rifle that was much too big for her in her hands. An overwhelming feeling of guilt accompanied the anxiety in his gut—try as he might, he never seemed to stop failing. 

“Still mumbling in your sleep.” She observed. “I woke up early. You guys were passed out, so I took second watch.”

Joel’s words were rushed, betraying his normally stoic demeanor. “You gotta wake me up if that happens.” He slowly stood up, the unavoidable ache in his lower back and knees seemingly worse that morning, perhaps from walking the last hundred or so miles, or maybe it was the rock that dug into his back during the night. “You can’t do things like this.” He said, gently nudging his companion’s still sleeping body on the ground with his foot; his poor back would not be tolerating him leaning down to wake you with a gentle grazing of his fingers or nudge of your shoulder. He chose to ignore the fact that he always felt afraid to touch you—not because he thought you were fragile, but rather because you made him feel as though he was. Your skin made his hands feel like he was electrified, on fire, or frozen in place, and sometimes it was all three. Sometimes, he wished he had left you back in Boston, and sometimes he wished he had found you twenty years ago; on more rare occasions, he wished he had met you thirty years ago—when he was still whole and he was still alive, Joel Miller and Sarah were still alive, and he would’ve seen you as you were meant to be. Those thoughts never lasted for long, but they made his stomach turn nonetheless. 

"Uh, I can. I just did.” Joel had grown very familiar with the sarcastic smile she flashed at him.

“I’m responsible for you.” “She is too; don’t see her complaining.” His gaze flitted back down to you, barely awake and wholly confused by the situation at hand.

Joel took the rifle from Ellie, who was attempting to explain her precautions as she stood watch. “You wake me up next time.” “Yes, sir.” She responded.

That day started the same as each one for the last eight—was it closer to ten?—months had: a grueling trek across wooden terrain in what Joel hoped was the right direction, consistent sarcastic quips from Ellie, and your soothing presence at his side. It was a normal day, a normal fucking day, and he was mostly on course again, and everything was normal, normal, normal, and for the life of him, Joel could not fathom how he managed to find himself sitting in a bar drinking whiskey from a glass with his little brother. There were the horses and the dogs, and the all-consuming fear that Ellie was going to die and that you were going to die too; the knowledge that you would be after Ellie, and you would be lucky if the only thing these people did was kill you. Then he was hugging his brother for the first time in years, and everything felt fuzzy, and his stomach ached worse than his knees.

“Thanks for still giving a shit about me.” As if he ever stopped thinking about him. As if he hadn’t spent nearly a year in search of him. As if he were not the last thing of his old life that he had left, and he wouldn’t fight for that until the bitter end. And then he was asking about Tess (she’s good, she's fine), and it felt like a punch to the gut, and he was asking about Ellie (she’s the daughter of some Firefly muckety-muck). (There's a payment.) He could no longer breathe, and then he asked about you, and he was at a loss for words. What could he possibly say to justify you? Sure, your previous affiliations are what initially convinced him to bring you along, but he could have easily gotten what little information you had without trekking across the country with you. He could have left you at Bill and Frank’s or in Kansas City or in a random spot in the woods early in the morning; he did not have to take you with him. There was nothing in it for him; there was nothing to gain except another mouth to feed and the knowledge that you could have killed him in his sleep at any time you pleased. 

And then Joel was seeing red because, how dare he say that? 

How dare Tommy expect him to be happy when he was being handed the very thing that destroyed his life? He was there. He watched his niece scream and cry and bleed out as he pleaded for help; he was there after he tried to follow her into the unknown, and he was the one to clean the wound on his temple. He was there for it all, and then he left. How dare he sit back with his comfortable life, his house, and his family after Joel had lost everything? How could he sit there and judge him after he compromised every moral he thought he held near and dear to keep him alive? Sarah’s blood had not been washed from his hands before he committed what little was left of him to keeping his little brother safe. How dare Tommy find the life that Joel lost?

 He stormed out of the bar with that same goddamn feeling in his heart, and he thought he was going to die there for a moment—he had to have, at least for a second, because Sarah looked so real in that moment. The rest of that day passed in a blur. Joel found himself sitting in an old shed, the smell of wood and tools flooding his senses as he grew frustrated, fruitlessly trying to repair his tattered shoes.

 “The guys said I might find you here.” Somehow, seeing his face again, Joel could not bring himself to continue to stoke his anger towards his little brother, however fixed the scowl on his face was. “Figured you could use these.” An awkward silence filled the room from his lack of response, but what was he supposed to say? How was he supposed to tell Tommy, his brother, that he almost hated him for finding a better life without him in it? “I shouldn’t have said what I said... I don’t even believe it. I know you’re happy for me; it's just—it’s complicated for you. I’m sorry.”

 In that moment, Joel did what he had always done best and ignored it. “This ride to the university—is it a suicide mission?”

 “No. It’s dangerous, but it’s nothin’ you can’t handle. Just prepare and do what you do.” He said it as if he were not a shadow of what he used to be. As if he did not freeze when Ellie was in danger, and he didn’t fall asleep on watch, and his hands were still strong, his back didn’t ache, and he wasn’t holding back a torrent of tears.

 “You’ve had people go that way and come back?”

“All of ‘em.” He has said too much, “What is this?” And god, how was he supposed to hold this any longer? Where was he supposed to sit the last eight months down—or was it nine?—if not with him, that would not leave a path of destruction behind him. Tess, and Ellie, and the Fireflies, and Bill and Frank, and Henry and Sam, and Kansas City, and you? It was swallowing him whole, ripping him open from the inside; it was so heavy and he was so weak, more sorrow than man, and he could no longer bear the weight on his own.

 “She’s immune.”

 “What?” 

“Ellie. She got infected, but she didn’t get sick.” He looked like he was ready to chase the girl down and put a bullet between her eyes. “Tommy. Tommy, I saw her get bit myself. That was months ago. Months. She’s immune.”

 “From the beginning.” And he did. He told Tommy everything—about Tess; about Marlene and the Fireflies and how Tess made him swear to take her; about Kansas City and how Ellie saved his life; and Henry and Sam and how someone else had to save Ellie’s life because he could hardly hear out of his right ear and how desolate Henry’s eyes were after he shot his little brother (he overlooked how Ellie’s scream felt like a knife in his gut). He told him how he thought that dog was going to rip her to shreds, and the only thing he could do was stand frozen in place because he’s not the man he used to be, no longer a ruthless killer who could have taken anyone and anything down in his path—he needed Tommy to understand that part. He needed Tommy to know that the only piece left of the man he once knew was the weak, aching flesh and bones sitting in front of him. He was no more capable of taking care of Ellie than he was of Sarah, but he was staring at him as though he were lying.

“I was so afraid.” Joel could not hear himself speaking anymore. He knew the words were leaving his lips—he could see Tommy react to the syllables as the sound waves traveled through the air and to his ears, but he could not hear them. The ringing in his ears had never been so loud. “You think I can still handle things, but I’m not who I was.” A single crack in his voice. “I’m weak.” And god, he still looked at him like he wanted to argue against the points he so clearly laid out. “Lately, there are these moments when the fear comes up outta nowhere and my heart… feels like it's stopped…

“And I have dreams. Every night." 

“What kinda dreams?" 

“I don’t know. I can’t remember.” Another crack in his voice. Another reminder that he is incapable. “I just know that when I wake up, I’ve lost somethin’.” Tears began to fall down his cheeks. “I’m failin’ in my sleep. That’s all I do. It’s all I’ve ever done is fail them again and again and again.” Them?

“You want me to take her.”

“I’m just gonna get her killed. I know it. I have to leave her.”

“And what about her?” Joel’s heart truly stopped at the mention of you. “You still haven’t said a damn word about her or why she’s with you. Who is she?” He took in a shaky breath. He knew that Tommy would ask about you; he had sent a silent prayer that he would gloss over you. He could not bear to face the truth about you.

“What about her?” Denial was always his closest friend, but it seemed determined to betray him. 

“Joel.” He wanted to seem indifferent; he wanted to lie, but the truth came spilling out of his mouth the same way hot tears streamed down his weathered cheeks. It did not ask for permission—it took whatever it wanted from Joel. The truth wanted everything from him this time; it begged to be free from its shackles. What was he supposed to say about you? How could he justify this? How could he explain that you had completely bewitched him without him having ever known until it was too late? How could he tell Tommy everything without admitting a truth he had tried so desperately to ignore?

“C’mon. From the beginning.”

[a/n: buckle up we're gonna be breaking hearts here]

MASTERLIST // AO3

[seismologically-silly]

Puzzlemaster Week 2 Recap

paltry progress on the puzzles, but a plethora of plot proceedings!

oh my god has it really been a week since the last update? not quite, sorry. i've got prescheduled Life Stuff tomorrow making me busy, so i want to do this today. do describe developments without delay if a LOT goes down tomorrow!

some corrections from last week-- apparently 5 August is something that happened in the Puzzlemaster's past (thanks for the correction @art-thou-a-man-or-a-muppet!), but i'll still be holding onto my hat if/when things pick up then. wouldn't be surprised if that's why this week has been quiet-- the calm before the storm.

@the-1t also wanted it to be known that they're still here, don't worry (i'm worrying).

new stuff this week: the Them had some more interactions with the community this week. They have been harrassing the Puzzlemaster. i said i'd do this so here goes: They are cowards. There, i've said it again.

new player on the board as well: everyone welcome @h1y1p1n101s. i think that's how to spell their name. they've sent a few of us some messages trying to make us fall asleep. they've got nothing to do with the Them, so who knows what's going on here. some advice for dealing with all of these eldritch entities in the tags and inboxes: don't take deals. if you have to (or are just really pressing your luck), make a deal but do it carefully. watch your wording. a little mnemonic i've been living by for a few years: make 'em, don't take 'em, and above all else never break 'em.

i also want to note that there's quite a few books being shuffled around somehow. i think there's one that's disappointingly not cursed, one which is, and one the Puzzlemaster is trying to get to @potato-lord-but-not from way back at the start of the game. or whatever this is.

again, there's still this evening and tomorrow for things to Happen, so stay safe, have fun, and good luck!

OH YEAH THANK YOU TO POTATO LORD FOR REMINDING ME: CONGRATS @the-r4t-man ON YOUR DATE WITH THE PUZZLEMASTER! 🎉🎉🎉 🐀🐀🐀🐀🐀 hope it went well!

[sysmedsaresexist]

To the anon asking about my username...

There's a bit of confusion here, I'm going to answer many of your questions but I may not post the ask itself, hopefully it'll make sense :)

When I started my blog I was heavily anti endo and I specifically posted bad pro/endo takes, debunking or just laughing. To this day, most of it is still pretty hilarious. I wasn't focused on cringe, but totally crazy, out there claims that made zero sense and were flat out wrong. Check out my tags #shit endos say, #shit singlets say, and my newest tag, #shit anti endos say, I hope you have a laugh at a couple of them.

In my pinned post, you'll see the thing that started it all. A pro endo saying that sysmeds are sexist.

I would also like to know how they came to that conclusion. I'm right there with you. Also like you, I still have many issues with the pro/endo community. I believe CDDs are trauma based disorders. I post research pretty much weekly about it (check out #debunk and #research). I think endogenic plurality and CDDs are completely different things.

And you know what, my pro endo friends support me. We're all learning. I'm kind with my opinion, I'm open to talking about it, we debate, we share resources, we change our views and adjust based on new info.

This blog corrects misinformation from both sides, now. Some of it is worse than others. Antis can and do spread just as much misinformation as pro/endos.

What I would encourage you to do is start with the multiple selves theory. It actually developed right alongside Freud's theories on hysteria (which included early versions of CDDs at the time), and if Freud hadn't been such a perv, it might actually be much more well-known. It's a nonpathological theory on consciousness and philosophy. People have been describing this phenomenon for a very long time, "endogenic" is just the newest term for it. Here's a couple examples.

2015 - at any given moment in time, one or another of our subselves is in control and determines how we think and act.

1987

2012 - this one has so many links to other people talking about this theory

2023 - These results suggest that the normative principles by which agents have adapted to complex changing environments may also explain why humans have long been described as consisting of “multiple selves.”

2020

2010

Like I said, though, you can find this stuff as far back as the 50s with ease, anything older might take a bit more digging, but it's not a small or new theory.

I think an overlap in language has created a lot of confusion, but it's really not out of the realm of possibility for people to be more in tune with these parts of themselves. It's been documented for over a century outside of psychology, in other areas of research-- anthropology, philosophy.

I'm going to be honest, I don't think a single one of the headmate sale blogs are real. I think they're antis trying to start shit. Like maybe one out of every ten is actually someone misguided behind the screen.

Even CDD systems still incorrectly believe in core theory, endogenics picked it up from us and don't know any better. System resets aren't real, but there are real experiences that can FEEL like a reset-- try being patient and educating people. Ignore the others, because some people just can't be helped, and you're better off spending your time spreading good, accurate posts than arguing with people who don't want to learn anything.

I forget what I was saying.

Anyways, I'm a pro endo sysmed.

I hope you'll stick around and see what's going on.

[vintage-vermin]

I like Ongezellig, it popped up like half a decade ago on my feed randomly. Thought it was cutely done, saw Maya and was "oh no, she just like me fr fr" Waited and saw part 3 show up and then the rest.

I sometimes just have stuff that I love, but don't even bother engaging the fandom in any way. There are shows that have helped me be less of a cunty teenager decades ago that i love, but I have never gone to a fan forum or searched tags on any site. Sometimes I only search out the creative parts of the fandom and don't bother with discussions.

I love the random little things you can find on sites like Tumblr or other art-focused platforms for Ongezellig. Redraws, OC's in the shows style and fun pieces of some of the background characters Because oh, oh no, I'm not a fan of the rest of the community. But we'll hit that up later. Later. The creator made webcomics before. Had a little youtube channel with YTP's and some random reviewy stuff. Had an old Deviantart with some furry and the rare pony thing. Did an interview for a dutch comic collection ages ago that was a fun read.

(So, you only have to mail this letter) (Mailbox has a colloquial word where it's shortened to 'bus', same word as the vehicular one. "To put a letter on the bus") (... Yes, the one without wheels) He had a little comic named 'Caiasos' that was a bit of a disjointed adventure. Followed with Mayo & Curry. Simplistic 3-4 panel comics with a bit of a newspaper format.

(One day, Mayo wondered what ink tasted like) (You know that's poisonous, right?) (The box reads "Correction Fluid") A lot of the Mayo & Curry stuff is dutch snackbar puns or kinda standard early webcomic 'sleaze' as I can only describe it. Ever read like Chugsworth Academy?

(Hey Curry, it's not really clear what our relationship is in this comic. Are we family, girlfriends, roommates...) (Haha, silly Mayo. If you read the comics well it's very obvious.) (Anyway, time for walks!) Cute enough I suppose. I used to read Sexylosers when I was like 15, who am I to truly complain.

The creator did some creative & animation schooling and made a fun project. Some of you may have seen this one fly by, too!

Somewhere around the same time, he also made a little bumper for a comic festival.

He would also do little bits on dutch history, wether it be the Dutch History Iceberg video that got popular a bit ago or his more comedic Stille Willem videos. Studio Massa, the creator, was looking to get the Ongezellig show picked up. Some of the early episodes do throw in a school shooting thing and some very dutch middleschool discrimination to the Belgians. Granted, these are pilots. Would it have been picked up, I'm sure a few things here and there would get a fix up. This did not come to pass after a long time of trying to showcase it and even finishing his pilot series. However, he did land a job at a national tv station. I hope to see new projects of his over time, maybe even bring 1 or 2 of his old characters to new life in another show.

Little write-up on my experience with a subsection of it's fandom and community under the cut, feel free to ignore at your own discretion.

I went on a little deepdive to find out more a bit ago, I didn't follow the Petje-af or the Discord at the times of their inception or popularity. One of the first places you end up is imageboards and booru's. What a treat. Some of the ' documentation' of the shows reception online is very muddled. Encyclopedia Dramatica kinda stuff. Inane terms and barely understandable references to sites or people. He also has a KF thread that lists a large amount of uncomfortable information. By the time I found a few of those boards and booru's, it was already clear that they had some mass-extinction thing happen a few years ago and had to rebuild an imageboard and a booru or 2. Dragging myself to the very first page already got me greeted with "WE WILL REBUILD" sentiments. I get that there's a certain combination in the show that will bring in a specific audience. Underage characters and some historically charged discrimination. There's an underlying edginess to one of the characters that brings in a certain type of people. I have seen multiple posts and write-ups spanning a few years between eachother where people sort of announce they are done with the shows fanbase on this level. Lot's of adult art of these characters. While most places seem to be purged of this and plenty of (THIS POST HAS BEEN DELETED) messages all over by this time. There's a sentiment shared across a lot of these types of fans. "fucking tr00ns ruined my fucking show" I've come across plenty of junk where some one makes a call to action because they found some one with a trans flag in their bio and posted some art of the show. I can't really find the root of this problem. All that seems to have actually happened is that a buncha people were being massive bigots in the discord, got banned for it and then they got indignant about it. There's mention that some one spammed some boards with the show ages ago and somehow invited tons of transphobia into the room. Like I said, it's all muddled and written from certain perspectives.

It's like that one part of the K-on fanbase really. I just find strange and a bit of a shame that there's such an active and hostile subsection of this little fandom. I have come across multiple write-up from people who just can't interact with their fun little show without some out-there types showing up. Even little videos that try to bring this show to a larger audience find their comments littered with bizarre callouts to the small imageboard groups. A prized possession of that snippet of the community is a game about Mymy shooting up her school. I understand this is supposed to be a niche layer of fandom that's still pretty isolated to 4/5 sites at most. I understand that there will always be outliers. I dunno, frustration about a fun little show made manifest.

[noforkingclue]

For a request, Dark Aziraphale/Crowley/reader. The reader manages to get loose and needs to be found and brought home. Describe the consequences or how they'd discourage said "bad behaviour". Please and thank you!

Yay, a Good Omens request and a dark one as well!!! I love writing for Good Omens so feel free to send in more requests for it :)

Title: Freedom?

Warnings: dark fic, imprisonment, drugging

Good Omens tag list: @mxacegrey

Everything tag list: greenrevolutionary, @byebyebreezywrites spngingerbread21,  @layazul,  @lov3vivian, @simonsbluee

You shivered as you pulled your thin coat around you. You only had a slim opportunity to escape so you had to take it when you did. You grimaced as the rain soaked through your coat but you were relieved to see a bus stop coming up. All you had to do was hope that a bus would come quickly. You cursed when you saw that it wasn’t a bus stop with a shelter.

Oh well.

You were free.

Finally fucking free.

You tensed as you heard footsteps approach you but kept your gaze pointedly on the ground. You just wanted to be left alone and get on the bus and-

You stiffened as you heard a familiar rustle and the rain stopped. You looked up at a brilliantly white wing and an arm was wrapped around you. You had no choice but to let yourself be embraced by the angel.

“Oh you poor thing,” said Aizraphel, “you’re soaked. Here, let me warm you up.”

You closed your eyes and you felt your clothes dry and a pleasant warmness engulf you. It was like you were being wrapped in a blanket that was just out of the washing machine. Aziraphale smiled and pressed a kiss against your temple.

“Better?” he asked and you nodded in response, “Good. Now let’s get back to the shop. You can have a nice cup of tea and we can have a chat.”

You felt the tears drip down your face as the familiar sensation of being teleported engulfed you. When you next opened your eyes you were back in the bookshop. You were gently pushed into a chair and Aziraphale disappeared as he went to make you a cup of tea. You pulled your legs up to your chest as you once again enjoyed the peace of your solitude.

However, that wasn’t to last.

You felt a pair of arms wrap around you. A pointed chin rest of top of your head and you stiffened under Crowley’s embrace. Unlike Aziraphale you could feel that anger radiate from him. As if he had known of the presence of the other, Aziraphale appeared. He beamed at the two of you as he pushed the tea into your hands.

“Drink,” he said, “You’ll feel better after.”

Right. Almost certainly drugged then.

“It’s a bit hot,” you muttered, “I’ll let it cool down.”

“Of course,” Aziraphale gave you a soft smile, “we don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

He brushed your cheek with the back of his hand and you resisted the urge to flinch away.

“She hurt us,” Crowley said, “don’t you think-”

“Hush, dear,” Aziraphale scolded gently, “let’s not think about that now.”

“Then when,” Crowley hissed his grip tightening, “actions have consequences.”

“I know but look at her,” Aziraphale said, “she clearly wasn’t thinking. Not in her right mind.”

Crowley gripped your chin tightly and forced you to look into his eyes. You were correct, he was angry but there was also a hint of something else. Could that be worry? Your hands shook at his action, causing some hot tea to spill onto your hands. Immediately Aziraphale took the cup away. He blew on it and held it up to your lips. You felt the burns on your fingers heal and he raised the cup to your lips.

“Here,” he said, “it should be cool enough for you to drink now. Then we can all get some well deserved rest.”

You had no choice but to open your mouth and drink the liquid. Crowley pressed his lips against your hair and you felt yourself slip into the comforting darkness.

“And tomorrow,” you heard Crowley say, “we can discuss our new arrangements.”

[lovewash3d-doll]

🎀🗝️How to Write Realistic Dialogue 🎀🗝️

When I first started writing, I had such a difficult time writing dialogue and making it realistic. I’d cringe at my own sentences and those who read it would comment out its awkwardness. If you’re in the same boat, don’t worry! Over the years, I’ve developed some tips and tricks that have helped improve my dialogue! Here are many factors that you can consider to make your dialogue more authentic and more impactful to read!

1. Daydream Away!

This is my most effective tip that transformed my bad dialogue to something that sounds natural to conversation. As you write, imagine your scene as one in a movie. Envisioning someone actually speaking in a context can help you differentiate if your dialogue is something a person would actually say. A character won’t go on a long tangent or a grand speech, instead they may just say the jest of their point or even shorten it. As easy as is it, making a character verbally explain a buck-full of your worldbuilding is a bad idea and is an unauthentic way to introduce both a character and a world. Sometimes we tend to write awkward sentences or word phrases too grammatically-correct. When speaking, people tend to say “don’t” instead of “do not” and “you and me” instead of “you and I.” sometimes even envisioning a text conversation can help. An additional factor to consider is the language a person uses. The formalities and diction of your dialogue depends on the culture and time period that your story is in, as well as the socioeconomic status of your character. A character in the Victorian age won’t use modern day slang. A wealthier character will use more eloquent vocabulary and employ more philosophical, academic aphorisms. Make sure not to overdo it and keep the amount of information a person says to a minimal and within the context of the dialogue you can envision!

2. Consider Psychology

People don’t always say what they mean! This is a key tip my Creative Writing teacher told me. When writing dialogue, remember the humanity in what we choose to say and what we don’t and why. People lie, deceive, bottle up emotions, and have different dispositions. To make your writing more realistic, keep that in mind! An upset character may say they are fine when questioned. A person might make a comment out of peer pressure or a cruel remark out of anger. People tend to dumb down what they say and not fully explain themselves. It’s important to retain that mystery and self restraint when making dialogue! Consider what a character may reveal compared to what other characters and the reader discover from other sources or that character’s actions. Actions speak more than words as they say. Dialogue is only a sliver of insight into a character’s thoughts—like the faint light spilling through the small crack of a door.

3. Pauses & Character Expressions

Another technique and facet of dialogue can be found within its tag and short imagery. When speaking, people tend to make pauses or loose their train of thought and think of something else. Including these within a dialogue tag can add another layer of realism. Describing emotions and reactions, employing more detailed variations of the word “said”, and explaining character body language is very beneficial. Writing“argued” instead of “said” adds more depth and power behind a character’s dialogue. When people speak, they also do much more than that simply emit words: their emotion and body language play a large role on how what they say is conveyed and perceived. A character might be perceived as angrier if they flay their arms or tighten their fists. A character might be perceived as sadder if they are described muttering, with their head drooped low. Dialogue shouldn’t be flat and emotionless!

I hope this helps! Reblogs are appreciated!

XOXO,

lovewashed doll 🗝️🎀

[deadeyeedangel]

trial run - moira o'deorain x intern!reader

˚✩ ⋆｡˚ ✩ hi ! it's my wife's birthday today, so naturally i thought i'd finally get around to those hcs i was planning on writing! these posts will probably never be formatted with those pretty little headers i see around and i'm pretty unapologetic about it, i can't lie i kiiiinda care a lot less about the presentation and more about the actual writing and i'm a pretty busy person, soooo... sorry i guess? anyway sorry for yapping and i hope you all enjoy, HAPPY BIRTHDAY DOCTOR O'DEORAIN!!!

˚✩ ⋆｡˚ ✩ TAGS: sfw, reader was meant to be fem but tbh no gendered terms are really used so reader can be seen as gender-neutral, age difference (reader is implied to be a doctoral student in early 20s), canon-divergent/au because i'm projecting my own internship problems here i cannot help it, moira being moira but it's way tamer than usual, actually kinda really fluffy i needed some comfort oops, mayyy make a part 2 with the date if you guys reeeeally want it :p

✧˚ · . suffice to say she wasn't a fan on your first day- to be honest she wasn't a fan even before then. the doctor preferred to work in solitude and silence, and hearing that she would have to practically babysit a doctoral student for a whole summer? forget it.

✧˚ · . she very begrudgingly opened up to the idea of having a shadow, however, after she found out her lab would be receiving more funding as a result of the research you were being hired to do. unfortunately that still didn't mean she liked you, though.

✧˚ · . you were young, fresh-faced and naïve, and when you shuffled in through the doors to her lab you were met with a cold presence that you didn't necessarily care for at all. it was what you were expecting when you were told who you would be working with, though, so it didn't come as a surprise. after all, no matter how much better you thought you would fare working alongside your sweet professor dr. ziegler, there was only one in the facility that could find even some use in a bioinformatics student.

✧˚ · . you barely had a moment to introduce yourself before the lanky irishwoman waved off your extended hand.

"wasting time will get you nowhere. unless you wish to bring me my coffee and just sit there every day, make yourself actually useful."

you were silent after that, doing exactly as she said and leaving her alone. no words were exchanged for the rest of the day.

✧˚ · . your first week was pretty unremarkable, but you were easing into the schedule you had made, making a small dent in the large workload you had to do for your thesis. moira was always just moira, working silently in her own corner of the lab and occasionally taking a break to examine your own work but saying nothing at all. by week two, however, the silence was beginning to drive you insane.

✧˚ · . your first real conversation was initiated, surprisingly, by moira. the older woman was hovering over your shoulder as usual, examining your catalogs of the dna structures and compositions of the various modified rabbits she kept in the lab, and she decided to snarkily point out you had missed a section. expecting that to be the only thing she had to say, you sighed and corrected it before moving on but she kept speaking, pointing out areas that you missed in a tone that you could only describe as pointed and patronizing.

✧˚ · . in certain... other situations, you'd find being talked to in this manner by a quite attractive older woman to be much more pleasant, but this was your hard work she was critiquing.

✧˚ · . don't worry, though, it's her love language. she might not say it but she wants you to succeed.

✧˚ · . expect more conversations about your work and hers. you begin to speak more in the mornings when you first walked in, and at nights when you left.

✧˚ · . as the days went by and your final deadline for your thesis was approaching quicker and quicker, you ended up spending nearly all 24 hours of each day in the lab, and of course, moira had noticed.

✧˚ · . she leaves small things out for you that she'd usually leave for just herself: two mugs of coffee now, two plates with some small meals, two shot glasses in case things got rather dire... but don't ask her about them, she'll shut down that it was her doing quite quickly.

✧˚ · . one very early morning she returns from the bathroom to find you slumped over your desk, fast asleep. your face was smushed against your keyboard, keying in a constant and ever-growing string of the letter h into your catalog. if you ever found out and asked, she would have simply said she didn't want the data to be messed up. however, that was most certainly not the case as she gingerly lifted your head up carefully to delete the keyboard smash, saving your work and turning off your computer before leaving you back to your rest.

✧˚ · . she was back at her work for a good five minutes before she decides to take her lab coat off, draping it over your still-sleeping form like a makeshift blanket. you woke up that morning confused but grateful, with a slightly flushed doctor o'deorain saying she simply didn't want you to get sick, as it was cold in the lab anyway.

✧˚ · . your thesis was due the day before your last day of work, and moira was quieter than usual. you've been stressed and working dilligently all day, but when you finally submit it right before the clock struck midnight, moira got up from her side of the lab, and retrieved two glasses and a bottle of champagne.

✧˚ · . you never thought she'd be the type to celebrate this sort of thing, especially when it took her away from her work, but when she motioned you to come over, you couldn't help but listen.

✧˚ · . clinking your glasses together, moira congratulated you on your work, and over the alcohol, conversation brewed quickly. you spoke of your plans for the future, your research, her research, discussion flowing for hours, as if it were meant to be. a well-received moment of relaxation for the doctor, you assumed, surprised she'd spend it with you rather than alone.

✧˚ · . she never got the chance to ask if perhaps the two of you could see each other... outside of the lab, maybe for dinner or a coffee. a trial run if anything, she said.

✧˚ · . or- well, she didn't really say it. angela came up to you after a class and told you on her behalf. nerd with a crush doing nerd with a crush things, i guess.

[plethomacademia]

You asked me to send a porny prompt and I’m doing it, I’m putting my big girl knickers on and asking for premature ejaculation, any

And then I am running away lmao

I have been turning this in my head and please forgive me as I use this as an excuse to first draft my uh Astarion premature ejaculation from my upcoming sequel to the tadpole threesome fic. 700 words because I am ill. Tags are uh premature ejaculation, MFM threesomes, double penetration (mouth and vagina), disassociating.

Maeve had shown him a picture like this one the last time they were together, when he had watched her be fucked by Halsin in that little grove. She, of course, would never see herself from this perspective and had gotten many of the details not quite right.

He looks at them in turn: how her breast hang lower than she imagines, rounder at the ends and knocking back and forth like a metronome, rocking at a tempo that he is setting with his hips. She does not realize how much she tilts her hips up towards him, the angle just as eager as how she pushes back into him, just as greedy as the noises she is making with her mouth around Halsin’s cock. She does not know how vulnerable she sounds when she is get stroked just like — yes, just like that, absolutely mewling from just a change in how he pushes his cock against her walls. He hopes she never realizes it. He knows if she does, she will find a way to quash that vulnerability, just like she does the rest.

His last thought clangs in his head. It is windy up here, he realizes now. The air is not cold, but it is not warm. It is the wind of the sunset. He knows that it will get cold soon and they will have to go back inside. And then there will be another night’s rest, another morning of preparation, and then another walk outside to face the end of the world.

“Astarion,” he hears and Astarion realizes that his focus has gone soft. It comes back in a snap and Halsin is looking at him.

Astarion puts on a smile. “Enjoying yourself?” he purrs.

Halsin continues to look at him. “How does she feel, Astarion?”

He looks down at the scattered freckles down Maeve’s back. How does she feel? “You would know, wouldn’t you?” he says as he pushes himself inside her to the hilt, causing Maeve to make a noise around Halsin’s member.

“That I do,” Halsin says. Astarion watches as he stops stroking Maeve’s hair, instead moving to take it up in a handful. He already knows what Halsin means to do, but it is still a shock when the druid pulls at Maeve’s hair and she tightens just as she always does. Halsin uses his grip on her to pull her mouth from his cock and Astarion watches as a string of saliva goes her tongue and his head.

Astarion sees Maeve look up at Halsin with a glint on her eye. Halsin uses his free hand to take his cock up in his hand and Astarion looks at how swollen and angry it looks, nearly bulbous at the tip. He must be close, Astarion thinks, and he feels … Gods, what does he feel?

As if on cue, Halsin says, “Describe it for me.”

Astarion notices that his hips have stopped moving. He corrects this. She feels —

Halsin pulls her hair again and Astarion sucks air through his teeth.

“She feels like the hot greedy cunt that we both know her to be, Halsin,” he says.

He can hear Maeve’s laugh as she tries to snake her tongue out to lick Halsin again but the man holds her steady. He is holding his base in a tight fist — definitely trying not to come, Astarion thinks with a flick of triumph — but after a moment, he begins to gently stroke himself, just a little bit of friction.

Then he speaks. “Personally, I like most when she is about to come. You can feel how she tenses up. First her lip quivers — yes, dear heart,” he says when Maeve huffs, “your lip quivers, then your cunt quivers, then you thighs grip and then just right before you close your beautiful eyes and —“

Astarion does not hear the rest. He pushes into Maeve quickly as an orgasm crashes over him, an earthquake, a tsunami, some other catastrophe that he does not see coming and cannot stop. He makes a noise that he does his best to ignore, but Halsin is looking at him, gods he is always looking at him now.

Astarion looks instead of the woman between them and at his own hand digging into the flesh of her bottom. It will leave a mark.

If you liked that, go read the prequel

[mj-theskywitch]

Hi! I am new to the term "transandrophobia" and I've been trying to understand it, do you have any good sources for learning more about it? From what I've gleaned so far it just sounds like "trans men experience a unique kind of bigotry" which makes me insanely confused as to why people I follow and generally agree with are arguing against it so passionately. Am I missing something or is this just another case of terf brain rot leaking into really weird places?

hi! thank you for asking, im happy to try and explain. you're correct, transandrophobia is just a term to describe the unique forms of oppression transmasculine people face. some examples are discrimination when trying to access reproductive care, forced detransitioning by pregnancy, the myriad of ways transmasc poc are treated differently (hi thats me), just to name a few.

to my understanding there's a lot of pushback because people believe anyone that identifies as a man or masculine can't experience bigotry because of being a man, because all men benefit from the patriarchy. i find this to be vastly oversimplified, in fact i would say that the majority of men don't benefit from the patriarchy 100% of the time. ask any men of color, or disabled men, or trans men. there are unique experiences we have that are inextricably linked to maleness, and people don't like to acknowledge that.

i think another part of it, and i might be swinging a bat at a hornets nest with this one, but people perceive women, including trans women, as being the Most Oppressed group, so when transmascs try to talk about our specific struggles (not even saying they're inherently worse, just speaking about them in general) people think we're saying that *we* have it the worst and no one else is as oppressed as us, which is total bullshit. it isn't a contest, no one is claiming one is worse than the other, we just want to be able to talk about our unique struggles that are more specific than general transphobia.

i also think a large part of the issue is that for some reason lots of people believe the transphobia transmascs experience is inherently easier than what transfemmes face, which again is bullshit. there's plenty of statistics about how prevalent violence against us is, it just often flies under the radar because the victims are misgendered posthumously. there's been a recent conversation about how transmascs aren't the main targets of terfs and are basically just collateral which. i don't have the time or energy to fully explain why thats a ridiculous and lowkey actually dangerous belief.

anyways, this ended up being a bit long so i hope i was able to answer your question. @genderkoolaid has a lot of resources in hir transandrophobia tag that can also help!

[bozzowl]

Scarab x Reader where Scarab is trying to impress them by doing increasingly dramatic things, and accidently makes himself turn into those tiny versions of himself. YN relieved he's okay but he's embarrassed but ends with them giving a deserved smooch heheh

Nyehehe

Scarab x Reader here ya go!

It was a normal day at the cosmic office, you were filing some paperwork when Scarab approached you. He clears his throat, "YN, I have something for you" He hands over a bouquet of roses. They are the most beautiful, sweet smelling roses you have ever seen. You take them into your hands, a warm blush spreads across your cheeks and you admire them. You look at him in surprise, "...for me?". He look at you as if smiling through his mask, " of course, who else would these be for?". You couldn't believe it at first, you had always liked him but never expected someone like him to return the feelings. You notice a tag on the bouquet, there was a phone number with the words "call me" written beside it. Before you could say anything else, Scarab winks at you before checking his crystal, " duty calls" and then he left. That's how it all started.

Over time he started doing more elaborate activities in attempts to impress you. You would think he would be all poems and roses? no, you get that and SO much more! From Shakespearian poems describing how you set his soul on fire in the best of ways to fighting eldritch horrors in your name. It was unnecessary, even though it worked on you. He wanted you to know how much he loved you, he wanted everyone to know he would do ANYTHING to keep you safe.

He would even try to teach you how to use a sword to keep you safe. training you, dueling with you, all while gently guiding you by hand to help correct your posture. Though, it was also an excuse to be close to you and to feel the touch of your skin as he did so. Any excuse to be close to you. Any excuse to hear the way you breathe after a good training session.

He tries to dance with you, to twirl you by the hand. He loves it when you smile. The way you laugh as he dips you during the dance. From waltzing to a spicy tango. Every touch of your hand would be described in various poems, from soft as dandelion fluff to sending waves of excitement through his body.

One day he got a carried away, so determined to woo the one he already had. Fighting an ancient eldritch beast known as The Star Eater, the beast was too powerful and easily knocked scarab down like a sack of crabs. You have tried before to tell him that it is not necessary, but he insists for he wants to be your knight in shinning armor. He tried to get back up for another attack, to keep fighting. But no, the Star Eater gave him a whomping smack with his tail so hard Scarab separated into a set of twelve little scarabs. Star Eater left to consume another star as you ran towards the little scarabs. They looked so defeated, so disappointed and embarrassed.

You felt bad for him, you knew he was only doing this for you even though he did not had to. You pick up one of the scarabs, then sat down as they surround you. They snuzzle up to your sides, nuzzling their little heads against your shirt. You know he would reform, but you also knew it was time you told him this. You look the little scarab in the eyes, "you don't have to try so hard because you like someone. I love you, and you will always be enough for me". With that, you could have sworn a tear fell from his eye. Scarab reforms, with the little scarab in your hands becoming his head. He looks you in the eyes lovingly, " and you are everything I need". You pull him into a well-deserved kiss. Your lips pressed against his as he pulled you closer. Tilting his head as he deepens the kiss, he felt complete.

I hope you like it :)

[desastre-fag]

hi!! hope this isn’t weird to ask but do you have any tips on writing image ids?? is it better to put it as alt text or in the actual post? one thing im worried about is having too much or not enough detail or failing to describe things properly. thank you so much in advance if you do answer this!!

hiiii!! dont worry about it at all ! id rather ppl ask and start writing em than not :] you can use either alt text or put it in the actual post, im sure alt text has a word limit tho so try to be mindful of that ! you wanna keep em short but still keep the main details noted, and trust me you get much better with practice :D and if ur ever unsure dont be afraid to ask others for help, with tougher pieces i id i tend to put in the tags smth along the lines of feel free to correct me just in case i interpret smth wrong. it also helps to go through other ids to get an idea of how to write em ! one tip i got from my co captain with clothing especially, is if its a usual outfit to try not to describe it too much, but if its smth a character doesnt typically wear go into some detail :)

[forestwhisper3]

heads up, seven up!

rules: post the last seven lines you wrote, then tag seven people. reposting, as the reblog chains get long!

. . . . . . . Yup, I'm alive (just very, very busy lately) Anyway, I was tagged by my good friend and amazing artist @joyfuladorable and thought this sounded fun. ...It may also be a sort of apology from me for being gone/silent for so long. So! Rather than the last seven lines, here are seven little teasers from fics I've been chipping away at during the bit of downtime I have- when I'm not just playing some Animal Crossing to destress, that is. It's not necessarily the most recent for some of them, but parts that I think you'll enjoy without giving away too much. Enjoy! (Also, please keep in mind that as these are still being refined, there might be parts you see here that may not be present in the final product) ============== Title Pending (Rottmnt) ==============

Not for the first time tonight, Raph had to wonder how he'd gotten to this point.

"There," his companion hissed quietly- a word he never would have used to describe her before this moment.

He leaned over her shoulder and squinted at the figures walking below. "You sure that's them?"

"OF C-!" she choked back her yell and settled for a heated glare. "Yes I'm sure! I'd recognize those ugly outfits anywhere!"

"How can you even see them from so far away?"

"That's how ugly they are."

Despite himself, he snickered a bit. Once he settled down, he crossed his arms.

"You do know this whole thing is crazy, don't you?"

She grinned ferally. "Yep."

"And it's very likely that if we're caught, we'll either get arrested or- if you're right about all this -even die, right?"

"Yep."

"You're insane."

"So are you coming or not?" she asked impatiently.

He looked over the ledge again, watching as the people below continued loading trucks.

"Well, Raph's made it this far," he shrugged, allowing an easy smile to slip onto his face. "And I think I'm overdue for a bit of crazy myself. Let's do it."

"Hell yeah!" Cassandra- Casey, he corrected himself -cheered, pumping a fist. "Let's go, Red!"

The two of them jumped.

============== Dragon of the Sun (TMNT 2003) ============== "Hey, I'm fine! Really! It'd take a lot more than some crazy lizard and spoiled son to take me out!" "You have cracks in your shell. And while I'm sure Donatello has provided excellent care, you are going to the med bay." "...Yes, M'am." Raph snorted softly as he watched Ananda start dragging Mikey away, his little bro not having put up nearly as much of a fight with her as he had against him and Don back home. Then again, he wasn't really surprised either. Maybe it was because Mikey played such a big part in reconnecting her with her dad, which led to her joining the Justice Force, but it was clear that she had a huge soft spot for him.

"And you're positive that there was no lasting damage?" And it seemed like she wasn't the only one. He turned to face Silver Sentry, the usually calm man also watching them go with furrowed brows and a frown. "Not that we could see," Raph sighed. "From what I've gotten him to tell me, he needs to take it easy for a couple more weeks, but he should be fine after that. Let's just hope nothing happens until then." And he really would hope this time. Usually he was itching for a fight within a few days, but if it meant Mike going out to fight before he was fully recovered? No way. Silver Sentry gave a sigh of his own. "And here I thought we could avoid this very thing by only making him an honorary member." ============== Turning Back Time (Linked Universe) ==============

"Hey, Time, do you have any other masks?"

Wind's question immediately caught the group's attention as they settled down to eat. Warriors looked up, admittedly curious as to how he would respond, especially since he knew Time would probably want to keep those cards close to his chest in order to mess with them.

But perhaps he was still remembering Hyrule's misunderstanding from the other night, since he was surprisingly straightforward in his answer.

"Quite a few, actually."

"And are they all magic like the- bunny hat?!"

There was something else Wind was going to say there, he realized, and judging by the way the others' gazes seemed to sharpen at the slight pause, they'd noticed it too.

Come to think of it, the two of them had been together this morning, hadn't they?

He thought about that for another second, then felt a chill of dread.

Could they be working together now? Sweet Hylia, he hoped not. Just remembering the sorts of things they'd accomplished together between battles during the war made him want to run far, far away. He was ninety percent certain that half the reason Impa disliked him so much was because of these two. He wondered if it would be possible to switch sides. ============== Recollections (Linked Universe) ==============

-of Darkness who sought to plunge the world into fear and darkness under his rule. Fearing his wicked rule, Zelda, the princess of this kingdom, split up the Triforce of Wisdom into-

"-eight fragments," Hyrule weakly read that part aloud, face pale and eyes wide in dawning realization and growing horror. "T-This-…this is-…"

He whirled around to look at Time and Legend, the sickly look on his face growing even worse when they nodded grimly.

"Oh no," he murmured, turning back around and curling a bit into himself.

"Okay, that's enough," Warriors scowled, although the worry in his eyes betrayed him. "Would one of you please just tell us what's going on already?! Why's Hyrule upset now that he's figured out whatever it is you two know?!"

"It's about me," Hyrule explained, looking up at them with haunted eyes. "That story we're reading? It's what happened in my Hyrule. Zelda- my Zelda -broke up the Triforce to keep Ganon from getting it. Shortly after, I found myself on my first adventure."

Silence. Then, the implications finally sunk in.

"Oh, fuck," Wind swore.

"Can't we-?!" Twilight began.

"I doubt it," Time sighed, already knowing what he was going to suggest. "Seeing as we were all brought here, then subsequently locked in, it looks like we're going to have to finish watching before we can leave. And I know it's not going to end with just Hyrule's adventures."

The air between them felt heavy now that everyone knew what they'd be seeing, and there was a pause, as if they all wanted to say something but couldn't find the right words. Finally, Legend let out an angry burst of air.

"Let's just get it over with," he said. "I know this is the last thing any of us wants, but it looks like we don't get a choice. The sooner we watch it all, the sooner we can leave this hellhole."

An apt description for this place, Time couldn't help but agree. Absolutely no danger to be seen, but somehow just as nerve-wracking as if there was. If not more so.

Another pause, but despite their reluctance, they all knew inaction was an even worse feeling. So Wild eventually started it up again. Fearing his wicked rule, Zelda, the princess of this kingdom, split up the Triforce of Wisdom into eight fragments and hid them throughout the realm to save the last remaining Triforce from the clutches of the evil Ganon. At the same time, she commanded her most trustworthy nursemaid, Impa, to secretly escape into the land and go find a man with enough courage to destroy the evil Ganon. Upon hearing this, Ganon grew angry, imprisoned the princess, and sent out a party in search of Impa.

The black screen started fading into color, although the words remained, and harsh panting could be heard as a landscape came into focus. ============== Title Pending (Trolls) ==============

Floyd was gone.

"THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT!!"

That simple, heartwrenching fact kept spinning and spinning and spinning in his mind until it was all he could think through the numbness that had taken hold of him.

At least, until Clay's scream managed to break through.

John flinched, finally tearing his gaze from his second youngest brother's crystalized form only to meet the furious, teary eyes of the third's. It was all he had the time to do before Clay shoved him away from where they'd gathered around, the tiny ember of rage that had been ever present in those last few days as a band finally blazing into a wildfire, fueled by the same grief that seemed to have frozen him in place instead.

"IT'S YOUR FAULT WE SPLIT UP! IT'S YOUR FAULT WE WASTED TIME! IT'S YOUR FAULT FLOYD'S-!!"

Clay choked, unable to voice that final, damning word. Instead, his face twisted as it finally seemed to catch up with him. Yet the tears that began to stream down did nothing to soften the anger that continued to burn.

Staring as intently as he was, there was no missing when that anger slipped into hate.

"I'll never forgive you," Clay hissed, his entire body trembling and tense. "We'll never forgive you."

He swallowed thickly and chanced a glance at Bruce and Branch.

They stared back in stony silence.

"I'm sorry," he managed to push through the knot in his throat and a familiar gnawing emptiness that began to settle in his heart.

Sorry he'd failed them…

Sorry he couldn't protect them…

Sorry he'd hurt them…

Sorry he couldn't be what they'd wanted him to be.

His apology only seemed to anger Clay further.

"You're sorry?! Is that all you can-?!" He cut himself off, and took a deep breath. When he spoke next, it was with piercing finality. "All you've ever managed to do is ruin things. Ruin us. So, if you're really as sorry as you say you are, you'll keep yourself from ruining what's left."

"Clay-" Viva protested, concern thick in her voice as she stepped forward.

Clay cut her off with a look and a shake of his head, but the bit of John that didn't feel numb appreciated the attempt.

She was good for him, he thought. He hoped they could be happy together.

Without him.

Because that was what they wanted, he realized. It was what they'd always wanted. Hadn't they always told him to mind his own business? To go away? To leave them alone? It was him who had been too stubborn to listen. Who had ignored what they'd practically been screaming in his face for years.

Not anymore, he promised. He'd already messed things up enough. For once, he was going to do something right by them.

Clay was distracted by Viva, and the others had gone back to looking at Floyd. It was like the universe was agreeing with him, telling him that he needed to take himself out of their lives for good.

He took a step back.

Two…

Three…

He took in the sight of his brothers one last time, knowing that it really would be the last time, and climbed into Rhonda.

"Let's go, girl."

She fought him for a moment, and he felt yet another pang of guilt- she'd gotten attached to them, it seemed -but eventually allowed herself to be steered away with a melancholy warble.

"It's for the best," he told her softly, eyes closing in resignation at the hollowness he could hear in his words.

A hollowness he'd experienced just one other time in his life and struggled to escape. Even now, he could see it overtaking him again in the way the color slowly leeched from his fingers and trailed up his arms.

That was fine. Last time, he'd pushed forward for Rhonda. For his brothers. For his-

He closed his eyes and slumped in the driver's seat as a fresh wave of loss swept over him.

This time, when the emptiness threatened to swallow him whole, John Dory looked into the abyss and hung his head.

It was time to stop fighting. ============== Journey (Pokemon SI/OC) ==============

"Satoshiii, you've got to be kidding me!" I groaned as I pulled his curtains open. "Seriously?! You promised you wouldn't sleep in!"

Ash waking up late was a running gag in the anime. I knew this. Really. I did.

I just hadn't realized how bad that habit actually was.

"EHHH!?!? Amy, what time is it?!"

Mrs. Ketchum must have had the patience of a saint dealing with this every single day.

"Late enough that you're only gonna have time to get dressed! Now, move it!"

"But, breakfast-"

"MOVE IT!"

He yelped and scrambled off the bed, and I hurried out of the room to give him privacy. Walking back to the kitchen, I huffed as I took a seat, rolling my eyes when I heard a loud thump echo from upstairs.

"Never a dull moment with that kid," Papa chuckled quietly into his tea, still a bit bleary-eyed himself.

"Good thing he spent the night. With Hanako gone, he wouldn't have had anyone to wake him up," Mama shook her head with a fond smile.

"Next time I'm leaving him," I grumbled, though it was halfhearted at best.

Mama handed me two lunches and I secured them in my bag before grabbing some extra riceballs for Ash and placing them on top.

"Is Shigeru going to be taking part in the field trip?"

"He said he hears enough about it at home, so no. Good thing too, I don't wanna babysit him and Satoshi. I wanna see some pokemon, too!"

It was a good way to test how things could be once I began my journey. At first, Mama and Papa had been a bit hesitant to agree when Ash brought it up yet again (he did so every year, but this was the first time we were old enough to actually go), but Uncle managed to convince them. I was going to be with a group, and Professor Oak was sure to have at least Arcanine with him, so I would be more than safe.

To his credit, Ash only took a few minutes to get dressed, but our house was a bit of a walk from Professor Oak's lab, and we found ourselves having to sprint for the last stretch of it.

"-guess we're setting off," I heard Professor Oak say and immediately pushed myself just that little bit more.

"Wait!" I called while waving my arms, never more grateful for all the running I'd done during training than at this moment. "We're here!"

I slid into the meeting place like a baseball player, taking care not to squish the contents of our lunches as I allowed myself to drop onto the grass to catch my breath. Ash was still a bit behind me, but they should be willing to wait now that I'd made it.

"Way to look like a total loser," a familiar, though currently unwelcome, voice cut in through the harsh pants.

I groaned. "I thought you weren't coming."

"I'm not," Gary scoffed. "I just got curious because Gramps hadn't left yet. Shoulda known it would be you two behind it."

"And I should have known you'd be too nosey to not butt in."

============== Horizons (FF7 SI/OC) ==============

Ryuu stretched as he wandered into the entrance area of the inn, not bothering to hold back a wide yawn as he tried to shake off the last vestiges of drowsiness. Overall, he felt much better than yesterday, his various pains now muted to a dull ache instead of the sharp throbs and spikes of before. Thank fuck for accelerated healing. Probably one of the highlights of being SOLDIER, in his opinion. Cassie's potions had only helped in that- he'd probably be back to normal by the end of the day or early tomorrow at this rate.

It was early- enough that the sun was just barely starting to rise -but to his surprise he wasn't the only one awake. The innkeeper was already up, phone pressed up against his ear and having what seemed to be a pretty serious conversation if his expression was any indication.

"-keep an eye out for him, don't you worry…It's the least I could do after everything your daughter's done for us. Besides, I know I'd want someone to do the same if it were one of my girls missing…" He sighed, tone turning apologetic. "I don't. Wasn't expecting her to leave so suddenly, or else I would've asked…I'm sure she'll be fine. She's a tough girl, and clever. She practically saved this town."

Wait. He couldn't mean-

Now completely awake, he rushed back upstairs, only just catching the innkeeper's now confused expression as he continued his conversation with who he was becoming more and more certain was Cassie's family, though unfortunately missing the question itself in his haste to check on her.

"Son of a bitch," he hissed upon opening all the guest rooms and finding them empty. "You little shit."

Is this what it felt like to have a younger sibling? He was pretty sure this was what it felt like to have a younger sibling. This sheer frustration and annoyance- suddenly, all of his friends' complaints made so much more sense. Not to mention the worry. What if she ran into something else she couldn't fight? She said that bodyguard of hers could keep her safe but how could he be sure of that? She hadn't even let him meet the guy!

Cassie'd left early on purpose. He was sure of it. The question now was why.

He wanted nothing more than to chase her down and find out, but as it stood, he couldn't. He'd updated ShinRa on his status the moment looking at his PHS didn't make his head feel like it was going to explode, but while they'd allowed him some recovery time, they were also being very pushy in their reminders that he report as soon as possible. He could understand the insistence- absolutely no one had expected what sounded like a run-of-the-mill monster extermination to put a SOLDIER out of commission, even if only for a day or so -but he wished he could just-

His PHS buzzed in his pocket, and he sighed, heading for the stairs again.

============== ============== ============== And there you have it! Hope you enjoyed the little clips! Like I said, I am working on them. It's just a lot slower than it used to be since I have a longer commute to and from work now, and by the time I get home, I'm usually too tired to write. I'll be going on a short vacation in about two weeks or so to visit my bro, and I hope to get a good chunk of writing done during that time. You may see a few chapters pop up then. Fingers crossed, at any rate. For now, I think it's back to chipping at them a little bit more. Take care!