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caelum-in-the-avatarverse · 9 months ago

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Fandom can do a little gatekeeping. As a treat.

So I finally decided to archive-lock my fics on AO3 last night. I’ve been considering it since the AI scrape last year, but the tipping point was this whole lore.fm debacle, coupled with some thoughts I’ve been thinking regarding Fandom These Days in general and Fandom As A Community in particular. So I wanna explain why I waited so long, why I locked my stuff up now, and why I’ve come to the conclusion that I’m a-okay with making it harder for people to see my stories.

Lurkers really are great, tho

I’m a chronic lurker, and have been since I started hanging out on the internet as a teen in the 00s. These days it’s just cuz I don’t feel a need to socialize very often, but back then it was because I was shy and knew I was socially awkward. Even if I made an account, I’d spend months lurking on message boards or forums or Livejournals, watching other people interact and getting a feel for that particular community’s culture and etiquette before I finally started interacting myself. And y’know, that approach saved me a lot of embarrassment. Over the course of my lurking on any site, there was always some other person who’d clearly joined up five minutes after learning the place existed, barged in without a care for their behavior, and committed so many social faux pas that all the other users were immediately annoyed with them at best. I learned a lot observing those incidents. Lurk More is Rule 33 of the internet for very good reason.

Lurking isn’t bad or weird or creepy. It’s perfectly normal. I love lurking. It’s hard for me to not lurk - socializing takes a lot of energy out of me, even via text. (Heck it took 12 hours for me to write this post, I wish I was kidding--) Occasionally I’ll manage longer bouts of interaction - a few weeks posting here, almost a year chatting in a discord there - but I’m always gonna end up going radio silent for months at some point. I used to feel bad about it, but I’ve long since made peace with the fact that it’s just the way my brain works. I’m a chronic lurker, and in the long term nothing is going to change that.

The thing with being a chronic lurker is that you have to accept that you are not actually seen as part of the community you are lurking in. That’s not to say that lurkers are unimportant - lurkers actually are important, and they make up a large proportion of any online community - but it’s simple cause and effect. You may think of it as “your community”, but if you’ve never said a word, how is the community supposed to know you exist? If I lurked on someone’s LJ, and then that person suddenly friendslocked their blog, I knew that I had two choices: Either accept that I would never be able to read their posts again, or reach out to them and ask if I could be added to their friends list with the full understanding that I was a rando they might not decide to trust. I usually went with the first option, because my invisibility as a lurker was more important to me than talking to strangers on the internet.

Lurking is like sitting on a park bench, quietly people-watching and eavesdropping on the conversations other people are having around you. You’re in the park, but you’re not actively participating in anything happening there. You can see and hear things that you become very interested in! But if you don’t introduce yourself and become part of the conversation, you won’t be able to keep listening to it when those people walk away. When fandom migrated away from Livejournal, people moved to new platforms alongside their friends, but lurkers were often left behind. No one knew they existed, so they weren’t told where everyone else was going. To be seen as part of a fandom community, you need to submit to the mortifying ordeal of being known, etc. etc.

There’s nothing wrong with lurking. There can actually be benefits to lurking, both for the lurkers and the communities they lurk in. It’s just another way to be in a fandom. But if that is how you exist in fandom--and remember, I say this as someone who often does exist that way in fandom--you need to remember that you’re on the outside looking in, and the curtains can always close.

I’ve always been super sympathetic to lurkers, because I am one. I know there’s a lot of people like me who just don’t socialize often. I know there’s plenty of reasons why someone might not make an account on the internet - maybe they’re nervous, maybe they’re young and their parents don’t allow them to, maybe they’re in a bad situation where someone is monitoring their activity, maybe they can only access the internet from public computer terminals. Heck, I’ve never even logged into AO3 on my phone--if I’m away from my computer I just read what’s publicly available.

I know I have people lurking on my fics. I know my fics probably mean a lot to someone I don’t even know exists. I know this because there are plenty of fics I love whose writers don’t know I exist.

I love my commenters personally; I love my lurkers as an abstract concept. I know they’re there and I wish them well, and if they ever de-lurk I love them all the more.

So up until last year I never considered archive-locking my fic, because I get it. The AI scraping was upsetting, but I still hesitated because I was thinking of lurkers and guests and remembering what it felt like to be 15 and wondering if it’d be worth letting a stranger on the internet know I existed and asking to be added to their friends list just so I could reread a funny post they made once.

But the internet has changed a lot since the 00s, and fandom has changed with it. I’ve read some things and been doing some thinking about fandom-as-community over the last few years, and reading through the lore.fm drama made me decide that it’s time for me to set some boundaries.

I still love my lurkers, and I feel bad about leaving any guest commenters behind, especially if they’re in a situation where they can’t make an account for some reason. But from here on out, even my lurkers are going to have to do the bare minimum to read my fics--make an AO3 account.

Should we gatekeep fandom?

I’ve seen a few people ask this question, usually rhetorically, sometimes as a joke, always with a bit of seriousness. And I think…yeah, maybe we should. Except wait, no, not like that--

A decade ago, when people talked about fandom gatekeeping and why it was bad to do, it intersected with a lot of other things, mainly feminism and classism. The prevalent image of fandom gatekeeping was, like, a man learning that a woman likes Star Wars and haughtily demanding, “Oh, yeah? Well if you’re REALLY a fan, name ten EU novels” to belittle and dismiss her, expecting that a “real fan” would have the money and time to be familiar with the EU, and ignoring the fact that male movie-only fans were still considered fans. The thing being gatekept was the very definition of “being a fan” and people’s right to describe themselves as one.

That’s not what I mean when I say maybe fandom should gatekeep more. Anyone can call themselves a fan if they like something, that’s fine. But when it comes to the ability to enjoy the fanworks produced by the fandom community…that might be something worth gatekeeping.

See, back in the 00s, it was perfectly common for people to just…not go on the internet. Surfing the web was a thing, but it was just, like, a fun pastime. Not everyone did it. It wasn’t until the rise of social media that going online became a thing everyone and their grandmother did every day. Back then, going on the internet was just…a hobby.

So one of the first gates online fandom ever had was the simple fact that the entire world wasn’t here yet.

The entire world is here now. That gate has been demolished.

And it’s a lot easier to find us now. Even scattered across platforms, fandom is so centralized these days. It isn’t a network of dedicated webshrines and forums that you can only find via webrings anymore, it’s right there on all the big social media sites. AO3 didn’t set out to be the main fanfic website, but that’s definitely what it’s become. It’s easy for people to find us--and that includes people who don’t care about the community, and just want “content.”

Transformative fandom doesn’t like it when people see our fanworks as “content”. “Content” is a pretty broad term, but when fandom uses it we’re usually referring to creative works that are churned out by content creators to be consumed by an audience as quickly as possible as often as possible so that the content creator can generate revenue. This not-so-new normal has caused a massive shift in how people who are new to fandom view fanworks--instead of seeing fic or art as something a fellow fan made and shared with you, they see fanworks as products to be consumed.

Transformative fandom has, in general, always been a gift economy. We put time and effort into creating fanworks that we share with our fellow fans for free. We do this so we don’t get sued, but fandom as a whole actually gets a lot out of the gift economy. Offer your community a story, and in return you can get comments, build friendships, or inspire other people to write things that you might want to read. Readers are given the gift of free stories to read and enjoy, and while lurking is fine, they have the choice to engage with the writer and other readers by leaving comments or making reclists to help build the community.

And look, don’t get me wrong. People have never engaged with fanfic as much as fan writers wish they would. There has always been “no one comments anymore” wank. There have always been people who only comment to say “MORE!” or otherwise demand or guilt trip writers into posting the next chapter. But fandom has always agreed that those commenters are rude and annoying, and as those commenters navigate fandom they have the chance to learn proper community etiquette.

However, now it seems that a lot of the people who are consuming fanworks aren’t actually in the community.

I won’t say “they aren’t real fans” because that’s silly; there’s lots of ways to be a fan. But there seem to be a lot of fans now who have no interest in fandom as a community, or in adhering to community etiquette, or in respecting the gift economy. They consume our fics, but they don’t appreciate fan labor. They want our “content”, but they don’t respect our control over our creations.

And even worse--they see us as a resource. We share our work for free, as a gift, but all they see is an open-source content farm waiting to be tapped into. We shared it for free, so clearly they can do whatever they want with it. Why should we care if they feed our work into AI training datasets, or copy/paste our unfinished stories into ChatGPT to get an ending, or charge people for an unnecessary third-party AO3 app, or sell fanbindings on etsy for a profit without the author’s permission, or turn our stories into poor imitations of podfics to be posted on other platforms without giving us credit or asking our consent, while also using it to lure in people they can datascrape for their Forbes 30 Under 30 company?

And sure, people have been doing shady things with other people’s fanworks since forever. Art theft and reposting has always been a big problem. Fanfic is harder to flat-out repost, but I’ve heard of unauthorized fic translations getting posted without crediting the original author. Once in…I think the 2010s? I read a post by a woman who had gone to some sort of local bookselling event, only to find that the man selling “his” novel had actually self-published her fanfic. (Wish I could find that one again, I don’t even remember where I read it.)

But aside from that third example, the thing is…as awful as fanart/writing theft is, back in the day, the main thing a thief would gain from it was clout. Clout that should rightfully go to the creators who gifted their work in the first place, yeah, but still. Just clout. People will do a lot of hurtful things for clout, but fandom clout means nothing outside of fandom. Fandom clout is not enough to incentivize the sort of wide-scale pillaging we’re seeing from community outsiders today.

Money, on the other hand… Well, fandom’s just a giant, untapped content farm, isn’t it? Think of how much revenue all that content could generate.

Lurkers are a normal and even beneficial part of any online community. Maybe one day they’ll de-lurk and easily slide into place beside their fellow fans because they already know the etiquette. Maybe they’re active in another community, and they can spread information from the community they lurk in to the community they’re active in. At the very least, they silently observe, and even if they’re not active community members, they understand the community.

Fans who see fanworks as “content” don’t belong in the same category as lurkers. They’re tourists.

While reading through the initial Reddit thread on the lore.fm situation, I found this comment:

[ID: Reddit User Cabbitowo says: ... So in anime fandoms we have a word called tourist and essentially it means a fan of a few anime and doesn't care about anime tropes and actively criticizes them. This is kind of how fandoms on tiktok feel. They're touring fanfics and fanart and actively criticizes tropes that have been in the fandom since the 60s. They want to be in a fandom but they don't want to engage in fandom

OP totallymandy responds: Just entered back into Reddit after a long day to see this most recent reply. And as a fellow anime fan this making me laugh so much since it’s true! But it sorta hurts too when the reality sets in. Modern fandom is so entitled and bratty and you’d think it’s the minors only but that’s not even true, my age-mates and older seem to be like that. They want to eat their cake and complain all whilst bringing nothing to the potluck… :/ END ID]

“Tourist” is an apt name for this sort of fan. They don’t want to be part of our community, and they don’t have to be in order to come into our spaces and consume our work. Even if they don’t steal our work themselves, they feel so entitled to it that they’re fine with ignoring our wishes and letting other people take it to make AI “podfics” for them to listen to (there are a lot of comments on lore.fm’s shutdown announcement video from people telling them to just ignore the writers and do it anyway). They’ll use AI to generate an ending to an unfinished fic because they don’t care about seeing “the ending this writer would have given to the story they were telling”, they just want “an ending”. For these tourist fans, the ends justify the means, and their end goal is content for them to consume, with no care for the community that created it for them in the first place.

I don’t think this is confined to a specific age group. This isn’t “13-year-olds on Wattpad” or “Zoomers on TikTok” or whatever pointless generation war we’re in now. This is coming from people who are new to fandom, whose main experience with creative works on the internet is this new content culture and who don’t understand fandom as a community. That description can be true of someone from any age group.

It’s so easy to find fandom these days. It is, in fact, too easy. Newcomers face no hurdles or challenges that would encourage them to lurk and observe a bit before engaging, and it’s easy for people who would otherwise move on and leave us alone to start making trouble. From tourist fans to content entrepreneurs to random people who just want to gawk, it’s so easy for people who don’t care about the fandom community to reap all of its fruits.

So when I say maybe fandom should start gatekeeping a bit, I’m referring to the fact that we barely even have a gate anymore. Everyone is on the internet now; the entire world can find us, and they don’t need to bother learning community etiquette when they do. Before, we were protected by the fact that fandom was considered weird and most people didn’t look at it twice. Now, fandom is pretty mainstream. People who never would’ve bothered with it before are now comfortable strolling in like they own the place. They have no regard for the fandom community, they don’t understand it, and they don’t want to. They want to treat it just like the rest of the content they consume online.

And then they’re surprised when those of us who understand fandom culture get upset. Fanworks have existed far longer than the algorithmic internet’s content. Fanworks existed long before the internet. We’ve lived like this for ages and we like it.

So if someone can’t be bothered to respect fandom as a community, I don’t see why I should give them easy access to my fics.

Think of it like a garden gate

When I interact with commenters on my fic, I have this sense of hospitality.

The comment section is my front porch. The fic is my garden. I created my garden because I really wanted to, and I’m proud of it, and I’m happy to share it with other people.

Lots of people enjoy looking at my garden. Many walk through without saying anything. Some stop to leave kudos. Some recommend my garden to their friends. And some people take the time to stop by my front porch and let me know what a beautiful garden it is and how much they’ve enjoyed it.

Any fic writer can tell you that getting comments is an incredible feeling. I always try to answer all my comments. I don’t always manage it, but my fics’ comment sections are the one place that I manage to consistently socialize in fandom. When I respond to a comment, it feels like I’m pouring out a glass of lemonade to share with this lovely commenter on my front porch, a thank you for their thank you. We take a moment to admire my garden together, and then I see them out. The next time they drop by, I recognize them and am happy to pour another glass of lemonade.

My garden has always been open and easy to access. No fences, no walls. You just have to know where to find it. Fandom in general was once protected by its own obscurity, an out-of-the-way town that showed up on maps but was usually ignored.

But now there’s a highway that makes it easy to get to, and we have all these out-of-towner tourists coming in to gawk and steal our lawn ornaments and wonder if they can use the place to make themselves some money.

I don’t care to have those types trampling over my garden and eating all my vegetables and digging up my flowers to repot and sell, so I’ve put up a wall. It has a gate that visitors can get through if they just take the time to open it.

Admittedly, it’s a small obstacle. But when I share my fics, I share them as a gift with my fellow fans, the ones who understand that fandom is a community, even if they’re lurkers. As for tourist fans and entrepreneurs who see fic as content, who have no qualms ignoring the writer’s wishes, who refuse to respect or understand the fandom community…well, they’re not the people I mean to share my fic with, so I have no issues locking them out. If they want access to my stories, they’ll have to do the bare minimum to become a community member and join the AO3 invite queue.

And y’know, I’ve said a lot about fandom and community here, and I just want to say, I hope it’s not intimidating. When I was younger, talk about The Fandom Community made me feel insecure, and I didn’t think I’d ever manage to be active enough in fandom spaces to be counted as A Member Of The Community. But you don’t have to be a social butterfly to participate in fandom. I’ll always and forever be a chronic lurker, I reblog more than I post, I rarely manage to comment on fic, and I go radio silent for months at a time--but I write and post fanfiction. That’s my contribution.

Do you write, draw, vid, gif, or otherwise create? Congrats, you're a community member.

Do you leave comments? Congrats, you're a community member.

Do you curate reclists? Congrats, you're a community member.

Do you maintain a fandom blog or fuckyeah blog? Congrats, you're a community member.

Do you provide a space for other fans to convene in? Congrats, you're a community member.

Do you regularly send asks (off anon so people know who you are)? Congrats, you're a community member.

Do you have fandom friends who you interact with? Congrats, you're a community member.

There’s lots of ways to be a fan. Just make sure to respect and appreciate your fellow fans and the work they put in for you to enjoy and the gift economy fandom culture that keeps this community going.

#ao3 #lore.fm #fanfiction #fandom history #gift economy #caelum rambles

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zairene · 1 year ago

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the freeridge hate was so over exaggerated lmao

*small rant in the tags sorry*

#💬 :: — chatting !#i liked it.#niggas was just hating bc they missed omb #i understand bc i missed it too!!#but like it wasn’t as bad as people made it out to be #i made it through the whole season just fine #talking about some you couldnt make it past the first few episodes #and you forced yourself to make edits of it #like if you don’t like it just…. don’t edit it?#you’re just making yourself miserable!#the show wasn’t that fucking bad your over doing it now #now i’m pissed off bc they was really doing so much #yeah it had a few cringe moments here and there #i’m not gonna lie trust me i had to pause a couple of times #but i overall enjoyed it!#was it as good as it’s predecessor? of course not #but it’s a damn spin off #not an exact sequel to it like everyone expected it to be #i wish people got that it’s nothing like omb it’s just in the same universe #but whatever i’m done

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navybrat817 · 2 months ago

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Deep in the Woods: Part 2

Pairing: Soft!Dark Lumberjack!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Fic Summary: A relaxing getaway in the woods may become your permanent home when you catch the eye of a lumberjack.

Part 1 | Series Masterlist | Part 3

Chapter Summary: You chat with a friend about the grumpy lumberjack and pay him a visit.

Chapter Word Count: Over 4.5k

Chapter Warnings: DARK AU, bits of MCU canon, cheating mentioned (reader's ex), grumpy x sunshine trope, invasive behavior, bits of insecurity, tension, reader is too trusting, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?), more warnings to come.

A/N: Next part of our lumberjack is here! ❤️ Beta read by the lovely @whisperlullaby , but any and all mistakes are my own. Bucky edit by the beautiful @nixakimbo . Divider by the talented @firefly-graphics . Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Bucky didn’t make small talk when he came back to the table with his second helping. You sat for maybe a minute before you went to clean out your bowl. As pretty as he was to look at, it felt rude to sit there and watch him eat and you weren’t going to force him to chat. Standing at the sink, you felt him staring at you. He didn’t look away either when you snuck a glance at him. He looked fascinated and you couldn't imagine why.

“Do I have food on my face?” you asked, swiping at your cheek when he continued to stare.

“No.” He swallowed his last bite and licked his lips, making your cheeks warm as you looked away. “Was just looking at you.”

You glanced down at yourself, a nervous giggle bubbling up. “Not much to look at,” you mumbled, going back to get his empty bowl. “So, you said early afternoon tomorrow to go to your place. Will 1 o’clock work?”

He leaned back in his chair, nodding. “Should be fine,” he said, observing you in continued curiosity as you finished cleaning up. You weren't used to someone observing you the way he did, and you couldn't pinpoint if the feeling in your stomach was nerves or butterflies. “You trying to kick me out?”

“No,” you said, your brows pinched as you sat back down. “Does it seem like I am?”

“Just cleaning up quickly and asking about tomorrow. Seemed like you were trying to get me out of here.” He lifted his shoulder in a shrug. “I could be wrong.”

“I’m sorry if I gave you that impression.” You hadn’t exactly planned for his company, but you didn’t mind, and you weren’t trying to be a bad hostess. You almost reached across the table to touch his hand but opted to give him a soft smile instead. “It’s nice having you here.”

His gaze softened, his lips inching upward before he cleared his throat. “Any plans for the rest of the day?”

“Not really. I do have to get on my laptop for just a few minutes, but that’s it,” you answered. Since the trip was meant to be a romantic getaway and you were alone now, you didn't have much of anything planned besides relaxing. “You?”

“No,” he said, tilting his head. “Why did you say that earlier?”

“Why did I say what?” you asked.

“That you aren't much to look at,” he said, tilting his head with another tiny smile that made your knees go weak. “You’re beautiful.”

Your eyes widened, your cheeks hot. “That’s…” You thought for a second that he was joking, but his eyes were serious. The compliment was also completely unexpected, especially from a man who wasn't too welcoming a short time ago. “Thank you, Bucky, but I’m not-”

“Don’t do that. If I made you uncomfortable, just say so.” His cheek twitched and guilt churned in your stomach at the thought of upsetting him. “You don't need to brush off the compliment by trying to put yourself down.”

You looked in your lap, not wanting him to see the sadness in your eyes. Your ex should've called you beautiful, should've made you feel that way, too. And what happened? He strayed. You couldn't hold onto him. As much as you wanted to think there wasn't anything wrong with you, there was still that voice of doubt that said you weren't good enough or pretty enough. Insecurities had a tendency to seep in like poison. What was the remedy for that?

“I wasn't trying to brush off your compliment,” you promised, lifting your gaze. He didn’t look convinced and that made you feel worse. He was only being nice. “It’s just… My confidence is a little shaken and self-deprecating is a defense mechanism, I guess.”

You wanted to run to the bedroom and hide when he regarded you. Why did you tell him that? Why did you tell him anything? He wasn’t your friend or confidant, and it wasn’t fair to unload anything like that onto him.

“I’m sorry. I-”

“Don’t apologize. I understand what it's like,” he said, glancing at his metal hand. “To have your confidence shaken.”

After what he had been through, you could only imagine. “How did you pull yourself out of it?”

“Still working on that,” he replied, his eyes distant as he pushed himself up from his chair. “I should get going.”

“Oh, okay,” you smiled politely and got up to follow him to the door. While it wasn’t your intention to push him out, you may have inadvertently driven him away. “Thanks again for chopping the firewood.” It saved you a lot of trouble.

“Thanks for the meal.” He swept his eyes over you once his boots were on. “Guess we took care of each other, huh?”

“I guess we did,” you said. And you really appreciated his compliment. It felt nice after everything.

You were reminded once again just how large he was when he straightened up, your heart racing when he stood directly in front of you. That close you could smell the forest on his shirt. “Don’t touch that axe again,” he ordered, his voice low and commanding. “If you need anything, you come to me.”

Your throat went dry. He was so dominant in his stance, something in his tone sending a delightful shiver down your spine. There was also a predatory shadow in his eyes that gave you pause. He could eat you alive.

Out here, all alone, he could do anything.

“Say it,” he whispered.

“If I need anything.” You had to clear your throat. “I’ll come to you.”

Bucky stepped back and took some of the warmth with him. “Lock the door tonight. I need you safe,” he said, leaving without another word.

The silence in the cabin was deafening as you were left alone. Bucky was… something. Curt at times, a bit defensive, and didn’t have regard for your personal space bubble, but you weren’t going to judge his social skills when yours were nowhere near perfect. He also seemed to like your company at least a little and was oddly protective of you.

“Probably thinks I’m just a damsel in distress,” you muttered, going to get your laptop.

You thought back to the conversation you had with Bucky. He was out here for nine months now and had a cat. And you… your stomach sank when you realized you told him you lived alone and worked from home. He already knew you were out there by yourself and you basically implied that no one would realize if you were gone. At least, not right away.

“It’s fine,” you said, pushing the weird feeling away. Bucky Barnes was a hero, and you were a stranger in his territory. It was natural that he’d have questions. You had nothing to worry about.

You decided to sit out on the porch so you could look at the picturesque view again. Part of you wondered what it would be like to live out here full time. To walk outside on a cool morning and inhale the fresh air. To see the sun rise through the trees. You wouldn’t have to worry about the bustling sounds of the city but could instead take in the quiet.

Which was interrupted by the sound of your phone ringing.

You smiled when you saw Kenna’s name pop up. She was one of your oldest friends. “Hey,” you answered, putting the phone on speaker so you could continue to type. “What’s up?”

“Hey, girl. Work sucked. I’m seriously considering getting a sugar daddy.” You scoffed. She would never. She hated relying on others. “How about you? How are the woods?”

“Gorgeous,” you smiled, stopping to look around. “Sorry work sucked.”

“It’s whatever. You actually get reception out there in the woods? Nice.”

“So far, so good,” you said. You expected it to be a bit spotty, but it was fine for now.

“And you're feeling okay?” she asked with a hint of concern. “That cabin was supposed to be for-”

“I’m fine. Really.” You didn't want her to worry about that. “But I may have done something kind of stupid.”

“God, you didn't call him, did you?”

“No! No way.” You blocked his number and all social media accounts. You wanted nothing to do with him.

“Then what did you do?” she asked curiously.

“Well, there’s this kind of grumpy, really hot lumberjack who lives near the cabin I’m staying in,” you said, looking around to make sure Bucky wasn’t nearby. It looked like you were all alone. “He wasn’t exactly nice to me when we met earlier today, and I may have snapped at him a little bit.”

“You snapped at a guy who was rude to you? That doesn't sound stupid. Sounds like he deserved it.”

“Yeah, that wasn’t the stupid part,” you said, taking a breath. “I may have told him that I am here all alone for the next couple of weeks,” you blurted out, leaving out that he knew you lived alone, too, and that the grump in question was Bucky Barnes.

Your face scrunched up when you waited for Kenna’s response. “Oh, sweetie…” There it was, the condescending tone complete with a “sweetie” on top. “Why would you tell him that?”

“I don't know!” you exclaimed, lowering your voice with a sigh, “Because I’m an idiot.”

“You're not an idiot.” There was a pause on the other end. “I mean, you did kind of shine a beacon over yourself that says ‘hey, take advantage of me!’ because your self preservation skills aren’t the sharpest, but I know that wasn't your intention.”

You made a face at the phone, your fingers taping the keys harder than you needed to. “Wow. So, I am an idiot and anything that happens to me is my fault?” you asked. You were being defensive when Kenna was only being honest, which you appreciated. But being in the woods, the only thing you should have to worry about was bears, not people with bad intentions.

“No! That’s not what I meant. You just see the world in a much brighter light than most of us do, you know? You feel like you can trust people to have your best interest at heart when you open up to them because you choose to see the good. But the reality is, the world isn't that bright, and most look out for themselves first.”

“Rose colored glasses, I know,” you said, softer this time.

“Listen, I shouldn't have said you put a beacon on yourself. People who do bad things are the ones at fault, not the people they take advantage of.” There was another pause. “Maybe you won’t have to worry about this guy but try to be careful.”

“I will,” you said. You had to look out for yourself.

“And before you say more, let me guess. You were nice to the grump after you snapped at him?”

“You know me too well,” you smiled sheepishly. “I fed him.”

“Oh, God, he tasted your cooking? Yeah, you’re in danger,” Kenna teased. She always praised your cooking skills. “He’ll probably be on the doorstep every day asking for a meal and you’ll give him one.”

You giggled. “Because I’m a pushover?”

“It’s because you’re a good person, so stop with the self-deprecating,” she said. First Bucky, now Kenna. “If I could just give you some of my pessimism and you give me some of your optimism, we’d be perfect.”

“The perfect blend,” you said, though you didn't think Kenna was that pessimistic. She was just realistic.

“Also in your defense, a hot grumpy lumberjack is like something out of a romance novel. I probably would've jumped his bones.”

“Trust me, you would,” you said. Bucky was drop-dead gorgeous, and he would probably have fun with Kenna. Why did that thought make you feel sick? “He has a cat. And he said I was beautiful,” you said, your heart skipping a beat from the memory.

“Oh, he did, did he? Okay, I know I just told you to be careful, but… maybe this guy can blow your back out.” You looked around again and debated taking her off speakerphone when you thought you heard a twig snap in the distance. “I mean, you deserve multiple orgasms after what he who shall not be named put you through.”

“Kenna…” you sighed, not in the mood to discuss your ex. She never liked him but tried to tolerate him for you while you dated. You were grateful she didn’t say “told you so” when you broke up. “I just met this guy.”

“And? People go to bars and leave with people all the time. And all I’m saying is that your ex is out of the picture, and you have some wounds exposed,” she said carefully, not wanting to upset you. “So let this guy lick them clean if he offers. Let him lick something. I mean, he’s a lumberjack. He’s probably pent up and a beast in bed.”

Heat spread between your thighs before you mentally dumped a bucket of cold water on yourself. No way did Bucky want you. “So, I’m no longer supposed to be careful. I’m supposed to let him, what, fuck me?” you asked.

“Be careful and let him fuck you. Establish boundaries but have fun over the next couple of weeks. Go see his cat and then show him yours.”

You burst out laughing and covered your mouth so the sound wouldn’t echo. “You’re the worst.”

“I’m also the best,” she stated. She really was. “And who knows? This could be the start of something new.”

“I don’t think…” You sat up when another twig snapped, this one closer. You couldn’t see anything when you did a quick scan from your seat. “Hey, what would you think about coming out here for a couple of days so I’m not alone the whole time?”

There was a beat of silence on the other end. She was probably looking at her calendar. “Hmm. I’ll try to swing it with work, but no promises. I’ll keep you posted,” she said.

“Yeah, just call or text me,” you said, shutting your laptop. If she couldn’t, maybe one of your other friends wouldn’t mind spending some time away from the city. “I gotta go.”

“Me, too. Take care. Carry pepper spray. Be safe,” she said, hanging up.

You slowly went to the edge of the porch and looked around the side of the cabin. There was a good chance the sounds came from an animal nearby, maybe a deer. You could blame the chill that ran through your body on the breeze. It was getting darker though and not being able to see much beyond the nearby trees didn’t soothe your sudden nerves.

With a shake of your head, you went back inside. No one was there. You were just being paranoid.

Locking the door like Bucky instructed, you breathed a bit easier and wondered what you’d cook for him tomorrow. Something not too heavy since it was for lunch, but tasty. It was nice to have someone to cook for since the plan was to cook for two for the next two weeks.

You also thought about what Kenna said. Would there be any harm if anything transpired between you and Bucky? It would be nice to have some fun, but that wasn’t really your style. You were always a relationship kind of person. And Bucky, well, you had no clue what he wanted.

“Forget it,” you muttered.

Curling up on the sofa, your heart ached as you stared between the board games on the shelf and the small fireplace. There really wasn’t much to do by your lonesome, but there was reading. Television. And you wouldn’t put stock in Bucky spending lots of time with you while you were there. He wasn’t responsible for you.

Sniffling, you curled into yourself more. The cabin was meant to be filled with laughter, sounds of pleasure, and more. Not silence. But you’d still have a nice time. You owed it to yourself. And if anything, maybe you’d end the trip with a new friend.

You were in much better spirits when you headed to Bucky’s cabin the next day. The spring in your step was partially thanks to the good night's sleep you had after reading. The bed was extra comfortable, and you woke up bright and refreshed. You could get used to that feeling.

The other spring in your step was, well, because you were having lunch with Bucky. You didn’t want to admit how long you took to pick out an outfit in between making lunch and baking cookies. It wasn’t like you were trying to get his attention or impress him, but you still wanted to look nice and presentable. And you wouldn't allow the thought of loneliness to dampen your mood.

“Wow,” you whispered when his cabin came into sight. It was larger than the one you were in, simplistic and beautiful in design, and had a wraparound porch. You wondered how often he sat on the porch swing and if he brought Alpine out with him.

Taking a breath as you walked up the stairs, you gently knocked on the door. You didn’t know why you were nervous. It was just lunch with Bucky. A handsome, brooding-

You didn’t realize that Bucky had opened the door until you blinked, his blue eyes locked with yours. How many people cowered under his stare? He took up almost the entire door frame and a tiny sound escaped your lips when you noticed he was shirtless. The man had no shirt on.

You bit your lip involuntarily, trying your damnedest not to leer. Were you supposed to look at his massive chest? The scars on his left shoulder? The metal arm? Or was your gaze supposed to dip down past his torso to his jeans and… No. No. You weren’t supposed to stare at all.

“Right on time.” His voice was gruff, holding a hand out to take your bag. “Did you have a good night?”

“Um, yeah. Did a bit of reading and went to bed early.” His fingers touched yours when you handed the bag over and you let it linger longer than you should’ve. It wasn't like there was any tension between you two, right? “You?”

“Yeah. Uneventful,” he said before he deadpanned, “You staring at me?”

Your mouth fell open as he raised an eyebrow. Saying yes would make you look like a creep and saying no might hurt his feelings. “Well, you’re shirtless,” you answered, making a point to look away when you gestured to him. You felt kind of bad looking, but it also felt wrong to not look. As if that was an excuse. “You’re not cold?”

“It’s warm in here and I run warm as it is.” He didn’t look at all embarrassed when you snuck another glance at him. “It’s also more comfortable with the arm sometimes to go shirtless,” he explained, giving you just enough room to squeeze past him. You couldn’t stop your body from pressing against his since he didn’t provide much room and you hoped he didn’t notice the hitch in your breath. “If it bothers you-”

“This is your home and I want you comfortable,” you said, putting some distance between you once he shut the door. If he wanted to go shirtless, you wouldn’t stop him. You could deal with him and his sexiness for a short time and get through a meal.

“I appreciate that,” he said, taking your coat and purse. “Make yourself at home.”

You lingered in the living room. Rustic with the exposed wood beams, but cozy and inviting with the plush sofa and chairs. The large stone fireplace drew your attention, along with the rug in front of it. The perfect place to sit and gaze into a fire on a cold night.

You moved close to the mantle to look at the three photos that rested there. One was of the sun shining on a large body of water with trees on each side. It looked warm and peaceful.

The second was Bucky with two other men, all three of them in leather jackets. You recognized them after taking a closer look: Steve Rogers and Sam Wilson, heroes just like Bucky. While they looked relaxed and happy, Bucky wasn’t smiling at all.

Was that photo taken before or after the tough mission?

But the third photo wasn’t a photo at all. It was an empty picture frame. Where was the picture?

“Wakanda.”

You jumped and spun around, nearly bumping the mantle with Bucky so close. Your racing heart didn’t go back to normal immediately. How did he move around so quietly? “Wakanda?” you repeated.

He nodded to the first picture frame. “Where that photo was taken. It was right outside of my hut, sometime after I started healing. I didn’t have any nightmares that day.” His smile was soft as he reminisced. “It was a peaceful time.”

You smiled softly, too. He deserved peace. “It’s a beautiful view,” you said. The view he had there was beautiful and peaceful, too.

“I assume you know who Steve and Sam are?” You nodded in confirmation. “That was Sam’s birthday. He made us take a picture together and insisted on framing it.” He rolled his eyes, but there was affection there that he couldn’t hide. “I only have it up here because Steve said it would hurt his feelings if I threw it out.”

You looked at the photo again. Bucky’s hair wasn’t as long as it was now and his stance wasn’t as stiff, but the brooding expression was there. “I think that’s nice,” you smiled. It was good that he had friends. “And what about that frame?”

His jaw clenched, his fingers grazing the glass. “It’ll be a family photo,” he whispered longingly. “One day.”

Your heart broke for him and the urge to soothe him skyrocketed. Before you could stop yourself you put a hand on his arm. His muscles tensed under your touch and you pulled away, regretting your action immediately. “I’m sorry I touched you.” You felt terrible. You should’ve asked. “I’m sure it’ll be a beautiful photo. A beautiful family photo for your beautiful home,” you assured him as he let out a breath. He’d have that one day like he wanted.

He leaned in close, his lips close to skimming your ear. “Your touch doesn’t bother me,” he whispered like it was a secret between you before he pulled away. If he caught you quivering, he didn’t say so. “If you think this room is beautiful, wait ‘til you see the rest of the place,” he said, leading you away and not mentioning the family photo again.

You gasped when he brought you to the kitchen, your eyes bright as you took in the room. The rustic and cozy theme continued and you wondered if Bucky built the cabinets. You envied the open concept and counterspace and you wanted to weep over the large stove. The kitchen was the heart of a home and it was very much true for Bucky’s place.

“You like it?” he asked.

“Are you kidding? I love it,” you said, running a hand along one of the counters. You didn’t miss the way his chest puffed out with pride. “My kitchen is so small, but a space like this…”

He unpacked the bag of food you brought, giving you a sideways glance. “Maybe you can cook here,” he casually stated.

Your eyes lit up. “Really?” you smiled, nearly throwing yourself into his arms. You refrained. “I can cook here?”

“Yeah, really,” he said, tucking his hair back. Standing in front of the counter, shirtless, his hair down, he looked like a wet dream. “Like I said, I’m not as good of a cook as you. It’ll be nice to get some better use out of it.”

You clapped your hands giddily and he actually smiled a full blown smile. “Thank you, Bucky. Really,” you said. You’d make something extra special. “I hope you like the sliders. I made cookies, too.”

He turned to face you, his muscles rippling as he stepped a little closer. This man really didn’t understand personal space, did he? “How did you know I wanted dessert?” he asked, that husky tone back in his voice. Was he implying… No.

It was like Kenna was both the angel and devil on your shoulders, one telling you to flirt a little, and the other telling you to play it safe. “Just a guess,” you said lightly, going for something in the middle.

You didn't feel like you could breathe properly until he stepped back. “I almost forgot…” he trailed off, sauntering from the room.

You swallowed as you stayed rooted to the spot. What did he forget about? That he was still walking around without a shirt on?

Bucky came back with a beautiful cat in his arms, and you were close to swooning. It was quite the sight seeing a shirtless Bucky Barnes holding a cat, who looked at you with a curious stare. You didn't blame her for staring. You were a stranger in her home.

“Al, this is the woman I was telling you about,” he said, making your heart flutter when he said your name. He actually talked about you to her? It didn't mean anything special. He probably told her that a new visitor was stopping by. “Can you say hi?”

Alpine gently meowed, bringing a smile to your face. Bucky smiled, too. They made quite the pair.

“You can hold out your hand for her,” he said.

You did so gently, not wanting to startle her. “Hey, Alpine,” you smiled.

Her nose tickled your fingers before she nuzzled it, urging you to pet her. You did so, which earned you a purr in response. It was nice to get her seal of approval since Bucky said she was particular with people.

“Wanna hold her?” Bucky offered.

“If she’ll let me,” you said.

As soon as you held out your arms, Alpine crawled into them. Bucky looked pleased when she got comfortable and continued to purr. “She really likes you.”

“I like her, too,” you smiled down at the feline. She was a sweetheart.

“Perfect…”

You glanced up to find Bucky holding up his phone. “Sorry. Just thought it would be a nice photo,” he said, his expression not at all apologetic as he showed you the picture he took of you holding Alpine. “You don't mind, do you?”

“Oh, no. That’s fine,” you said. Maybe he didn't have pictures of others holding her.

He glanced at the photo again and nodded. “I might have to frame this one,” he said, tucking his phone away.

Your smile wavered as he grabbed a couple of plates. That wasn't weird, was it? No. It was just a guy wanting a sweet photo of his cat.

“Let’s eat,” he said, rubbing his chiseled stomach. “I’m starving.”

We deserve a shirtless Bucky, don't we? Is that photo going in that empty frame? What do we think will happen next? Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

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we-r-loonies · 9 months ago

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an actual guide to british slang for foreign marauders writers.

because i am sick of seeing

a) people using american english eg. mom, sneakers

b) people overusing "mate" and "innit"

alright? = a greeting, like hello.

everyday words

ain't = haven't

scran = food, or to describe eating

swear down = promise

"swear down, I didn't do nothing,"

bloody = can be used in any sentence at any time

"bloody hell" "its bloody pissing it down out there" "i was bloody wankered"

bloke = a man

innit = isn't it?

mate = equivalent of calling someone bro

bruv, lad, my son = bro, dude, etc

fags, rollies, ciggies, (NOT A SPLIFF) = cigarettes

trust = trust me

"trust, ill tell you later"

chatting (what you chatting about?) = what are you on about?

quid = pound

proper buzzing = really excited

good

sound = good

bangin' = really good

lush = good

"that scran was lush"

jokes = a laugh, funny

bare = a lot of

fit = physically attractive

"he's well fit, isn't he?"

pissed = drunk

dodgy/dodge = questionable

bad

are you taking the piss? = are you having a laugh?

thats peak = thats bad

not being funny, but... = no offense but...

gordon bennett! = surprise, shock, disbelief

slag off = talk badly about someone

"she was slagging her off to anyone who'd listen"

minging, rank = disgusting

bloody nora = expression of surprise, irritation

bollocks = nonsense, something bad

"stop talking bollocks, mate"

skint = broke

prat, git = an idiot

insults

a melt = a pathetic person

clapped = ugly

"he's fucking clapped..."

sket = a promiscuous woman

slag = ^^

minger = an unattractive person

plonker = calling someone silly, not offensive

"don't be a plonker..."

cunt = VERY OFFENSIVE!

wanker, tosser = a general insult

bender, poof = a gay man, used insultingly

#marauders #the marauders #british slang #slang #fanfic #writing guide #writing help #help #writing advice #jegulus #starchaser #wolfstar

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timmydraker · 2 months ago

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During a Gala for raising awareness about women’s healthcare, a few heroes show up in both costume and civilian persona.

Wonder Woman is proudly walking around in a Greek style toga and talking about how the women of her home land care for one another and never doubt each others word on health issues. She is shamelessly challenging the men in the audience to better understand the women they claim to love and advocate for.

She’s the most obvious one in attendance, though if you look closer you will see Raven and Miss Martian talking with a the most obviously sexist group of men and making them all sweat bullets.

Others, like Zatana and all of the Bat kids, are in their civilian uniforms.

The most important guest in this line up, in the sense that her husband is making Bruce pout like an angry kitten, is Dinah.

Because Dinah is there to make a speech so naturally her husband Ollie is there to support her.

Yet when the speech is done and the wandering around begins, Bruce watches as Ollie hangs around one person like they’re old pals.

Tim Drake, Bruce’s most professional son during public events, is laughing and clinging to Oliver Queen like he’s some kind of celebrity or cousin he only gets to see once a year. The blond man had his arm around the younger Luke a parent and is chatting away with Tim as the two half talk with business partners and other socialites or so obviously just between themselves that the other people politely leave them to it.

Bruce had never seen Tim so relaxed at a Gala, the growing young man usually taking the time to go full business and organise meetings, deals or just the usual routine of holding reputation.

Yet there is Oliver Queen acting like they’re old friends.

Like Tim is his son.

Naturally, Dick and Barbara notice how Bruce is glaring at Queen and trying to hold back a frown of genuine hurt and jealousy. Part of them feels bad, but Tim and Oliver Queen are both made for this world, so it makes sense they get along in it.

But then Diana, who doesn’t mean any harm and is just talking to Bruce Wayne about how she approves of his work on the ecosystem casually leans down and whispers to him as Batman, “It’s always so nice to see how those two get along.”

Bruce’s eye twitched a little and he doesn’t bother trying to feign curiosity and grumbles out, “explain.”

Wonder Woman laughs loud and cheerful, which the room is now sued to hearing and jsut assume Brucie Wayne is trying to flirt with an Amazon which is not at all surprising.

“Oh, Bruce. Haven’t you noticed how Tim follows Jim’s round whenever they are at the tower? He’s like a little duckling. One time I heard him asking if Ollie wanted to come to his school event to see his science project!”

She goes on to talk about how Ollie must seem like an uncle to him and doesn’t pay attention to Bruce’s internal spiral.

By the end of the night Bruce looks like he might start crying, though only his children can see that.

Tim and Ollie finally make their way towards him after having a talk to some older woman about something or rather and Bruce puts on a mask quickly, acting as if he isn’t about to strangle Oliver Queen as they get ready to leave.

Dick steers Damian away and asks Duke to get the girls and wait in the car, knowing full well Bruce is going to embarrasses himself.

Rather quickly, Tim picks up on his distress and pulls away from Ollie’s side hug and approaches Bruce, “Is something wrong?”

Bruce smiles a terrifying thing, full of teeth and hidden malice, “Not at all. Tell me, when did you two get so buddy buddy?”

Oliver pales a little, but luckily Dinah is there to stop him from saying the wrong thing.

With a smooth voice she speaks, coming forward to press a kiss to Tim’s head and then back to her husband, “Tim and Ollie met at one of the Drake’s charity events years ago. This really was lovely, but we must be going, I don’t trust the younger kids to bot cause you or with Captain Marvel.”

With that there gone while Bruce is faced with the fact that Oliver may ah e met one of his babies before him.

But Tim isn’t a fool and he loves his dad, so he hugs Bruce around the waist and clings to him like he’s ten instead of twenty two. He leans back just slightly and gives a cheeky grin with a softness in his eyes, “I love you, dad.”

Dick coos while Barbara snaps a photo as Bruce squeezes his son and somehow manages to not cry.

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kirbmey · 11 days ago

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　 ྀི︶˚̣̣̣⠀⠀ possessive!caleb headcanons ⠀⠀˚̣̣̣︶ ྀི

synopsis: where caleb is obsessed with you and wants to keep you for himself (๑>ᴗ<๑)

tw: manipulation, dark romance, time skips, not fully canon, stepcest, use of “gege” and “big brother”, dumbification if u squint, they’re both around 18-20 here, etc.

possessive!caleb who you’ve known since you two were little kids and happens to be older thank you.

possessive!caleb who doesn’t really like seeing you with other kids and spreads nasty rumors about you so he’s the only one by your side.

possessive!caleb who, when you two grow older, gets more obsessive about your companies, telling you who you can and can’t meet.

⠀⠀　　⠀⠀“who’s that?” he asks when picking you up from class, hugging you tightly while keeping his gaze on your classmate.

⠀⠀　　⠀⠀“just a friend from class, why?” you turn around, viewing how your friend walks away in a hurry. “you know him?”

⠀⠀　　⠀⠀“oh, pipsqueak, you don’t know who that is?” he blurs out in a condescending tone, making you feel stupid because of your dedknowledge, pouting at him while he hovers the small of your back with his big palm, walking you to his car while sighing. “he has such a bad reputation, your shouldn’t go around with people like that”

⠀⠀　　⠀⠀“is that so? didn’t know that…” you almost whisper to yourself, sad on disappointing your big brother. “I’m sorry, i should’ve known”

⠀⠀　　⠀⠀“don’t worry, princess, just stay away from him and it’ll be fine” he brushes off, kissing the top of your head.

possessive!caleb who’s been shapeshifting your brain since childhood to make you trust him blindly, not questioning anything he says and following every command.

possessive!caleb who checks you’re phone every so often, making sure your chats with your fewer female and harmless friends are banal, blocking them if they dare talk about your strange relationship or even question it.

possessive!caleb who can’t go a night without enveloping you in his arms; you can’t either.

⠀⠀　　⠀⠀“gege? you up?” you ask while taking small steps inside his bedroom, completely dark besides de moonlight peeking through the curtains.

⠀⠀　　⠀⠀“hmm, what’s up, doll?, c’me here” he whispers, lifting the covers so you can sneak beneath them next to him warm and naked chest, hugging the plushie he gave you many years ago against yourself while sniffing slightly, looking up at him.

⠀⠀　　⠀⠀“can’t sleep, had a nightmare” a nightmare in which he left you, and you just can’t live without your big brother; you don’t tell him that.

⠀⠀　　⠀⠀“oh, princess” he hugs your significantly smaller body against his own, caressing the ends of your hair ever so gently, peppering kisses along your forehead. “i’m here, your gege is here”

you frantically nod, feeling his hand coming up to your cheeks you clean up the long gone tears, cupping your chin next to caress your bottom lip with his thumb, locking your eyes with his purple ones. he closes the distance between you two, kissing your soft lips momentarily; the moon the only witness of the forbidden things you do in the privacy of his room.

a/n: this is my first time ever writing anything, so bare with me ૮(˶ㅠ︿ㅠ)ა

— masterlist.

#lads smut #love and deepspace smut #lads x reader #lads headcanons #love and deepspace fic #caleb headcanons #lnds caleb #caleb x reader #lads imagine #caleb smut #lads caleb smut #l&ds smut

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nick-writes-stuff · 11 days ago

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Various Squid Game Characters x injured gn!reader

(Includes Gi-hun, In-ho/Young-il, Thanos, and Dae-ho)

!warnings: canon-typical violence, use of Y/N, cursing, in Dae-ho's specifically it is kinda implied that reader was using the women's bathroom but it doesn't say anything about the actual gender of the reader

a/n: this is most likely noncompliant to the canon, but it's fine. i might do another part with different characters later, but for now, i wanted to get this out asap. hope you enjoy!

Gi-hun:

- Winners don't get hurt, right? That's what you thought, but here you were trudging back to the dorms with a gunshot wound. A bullet must have ricocheted off the pavement because something grazed your side.

- You were one of the last ones to complete your game of marbles, so you walked back to the dorm alone.

- When you entered the room, he could tell there was something wrong, but he assumed it was shock from the cutthroat nature of the game. He'd been through it before, and he was still shaken to his core.

- You walked over to the area your group had claimed for themselves. You sat on the ground, arms wrapped around yourself. It looked like you were hugging yourself, a common self-soothing practice, but it was really just a way to put pressure on the wound covertly.

- He noticed how quiet you were being even after the remaining members had started chatting.

- "Y/N, I'm glad you made it out of there." He said. He watched your reaction closely.

- You nodded, murmuring a soft "Thanks, you too."

- He continued to watch you, concern growing with each passing moment. You started to grow pale as you sat there. Your breathing was labored despite your attempt to hide it.

- "Hey, are you okay?" He asked. It was a stupid question, and he knew it. How could you be okay here? Especially after a game like marbles.

- He didn't expect you to shake your head. You looked like you were going to cry. He moved closer to you, blocking the view of the others in an attempt to provide some level of privacy.

- "What's wrong?" You tried to speak but you couldn't get the words out. "Hey, what happened?" He asked. He lowered his voice, but you could hear his tone become more frantic.

- You wordlessly pulled your hand away from your wound, showing him the crimson staining it and your clothes.

- You noticed his gaze become distant. He looked at you and saw Sae-byeok, and you knew exactly what was happening. He hadn't told you about her specifically, but he had mentioned a close friend being injured. You hated bringing back those memories for him.

- You started crying, sputtering out a string of apologies. "I'm sorry. S-sorry. I didn't mean to. I didn't-"

- That made him snap back to reality. He cut you off. "No, no, it's not your fault. You're gonna be okay." He said quickly. He helped you lay back so he could get a better look at it.

- "Guys, we need some help over here." He said, keeping his voice low. It got their attention regardless.

- "Can one of you get me one of the bedsheets?" Gi-hun asked, to which Jung-bae rushed to get. Jun-hee passed over an unopened water bottle. "Here! I didn't drink it with lunch so I could save it for later." She said.

- Dae-ho took the request for help in a different way. "Hello?! Can we get a doctor in here!? Someone's-"

- "Dae-ho, stop it!" He snapped. The man's face changed to a look of shock. "They won't come. Trust me." He said softer. Dae-ho muttered a soft, "Sorry."

- You continued to cry, trying to keep yourself quiet. "I'm gonna need to pull this up, okay?" he asked, fingers grabbing the fabric of your shirt. You nodded, grimacing as he peeled the fabric off the wound.

"Y/N.... what happened?" He asked. Jung-bae and Jun-hee were folding the bedsheet to make it manageable to wrap around you.

- "I-I think a bullet ricocheted or something. I don't know. I'm sorry." You stammered, flinching at the cold feeling of the water as he poured some onto it. It wasn't nearly as bad as he thought, but it certainly wasn't pleasant.

- He bandaged you up the best he could with the supplies on hand. Once he was done, you sat up with a wince. "Careful." He warned, but you could hear his playful tone returning to him.

- You leaned into him, head resting on his shoulder. "Thank you. All of you." You you said softly, looking over to your other allies. Gi-hun smiled softly. "Get some rest, okay? I'll keep watch." He said, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head.

- Be prepared to hardly leave his sight for the rest of the games. He swears to protect you no matter what. Even when more selfish players would suggest he leave you behind. And they did suggest it, resulting in him lashing out at them. That was clearly a sore spot, as their words reminded him of Sang-woo.

- That night, he had a nightmare about the last night in his first game. The events played out as normal, but with you in the place of Sae-byeok. It was harrowing, to say the least. He may have failed her, but he will do anything to make sure you made it out of here.

- He woke up with a start, breathing faster than usual. You were in the bed pushed closer to his. You turned toward him slowly. "What's going on?" You asked in a hushed whisper.

- "It's nothing, go back to sleep." He responded. You knew better, but you didn't press him any further. However, you did carefully roll toward him, resting your head on his chest.

- He was going to scold you for moving too much, but you quickly returned to sleep. He just smiled like a lovesick fool and got some much-needed sleep.

In-ho/Young-il

(calling him young-il for clarity's sake)

- It all happened very quickly. Mingle was the most chaotic game yet. After the first two rounds, you quickly grew overwhelmed. The spinning platform didn't make the situation any better. You were getting a bit disoriented, but you were able to mask it fairly well.

- When the voice called out six, your group devised your plan to split up. When you had your plan, you ran to follow Young-il toward a room. As you stepped off the platform, your ankle twisted in a way it definitely wasn't supposed to.

- You fell to the ground, yelling out an expletive as your body hit the ground. Young-il turned around instantly, and upon seeing you, he told the group to run ahead and claim a room.

- He moved closer to you. "What happened?" He asked, his voice loud to cut through the chaos. He offered you a hand to help you up.

- You took his hand, pulling yourself up. You groaned upon bearing weight on your foot. "Twisted my ankle." You said through gritted teeth.

- He wrapped an arm around you, helping to support your weight. "I know it hurts but we have to move." He said before beginning to move. You tried to keep up as much as you could.

- You both barely made it into the door before it slammed shut. You leaned against the wall, lifting your foot up to give it a break. "Thanks." You said breathlessly.

- You limped back over to the platform. You didn't want to make it obvious that you were hurt in fear that they would leave you behind. It's survival of the fittest, after all.

- Young-il turned to face you when he got on top of the platform. He reached for your hand, interlocking your fingers. "Stay with me, okay?" He said softly, but you could tell it was more of an order than a request. You nodded.

- When the merry-go-round stopped and the number was announced, his arm wrapped around you to support you again. It was two, so it was just you and him you needed to worry about. You were trying your best to keep up with him. This was high stakes, as there definitely weren't enough rooms in this round.

- Around halfway to the room, you stumbled to the floor. He turned to help you up, but you insisted, "Go claim a room, I'll get there." You said. He was hesitant to leave you, but he knew your idea was the best odds for survival.

- You forced yourself up to a standing position. You took a deep breath and started limping as fast as you could.

- Some other player reached Young-il's room before you did. He snuck his way into the room. "Hurry up and shut the door man!" He shouted.

- Young-il's blood boiled. "Get the fuck out of here before I make you get out." He spat, turning to face the man.

- The man stood his ground. "They are just gonna hold you back, man. They're deadweight. You're better off with-" He was cut off by Young-il grabbing him roughly.

- You made it to the door, getting there with a few seconds to spare. You looked at Young-il. "Throw him out, quickly." You said.

- Young-il made his choice. This man didn't deserve the chance to live. He wrapped an arm around the man's throat, cutting off his airway. "Shut the door." He said, clearly straining.

- Your eyes widened, but you listened. You slammed the door shut. Soon after, you heard a sickening pop, and the player went limp. You didn't say a word. "Player 332, eliminated."

- You wouldn't say the action scared you. You wanted him to be thrown out, which would have resulted the same way. But the personal way that Young-il took the man's life without hesitation was... concerning.

- No matter what just happened, he kept you alive. Even if it was gruesome, it was the reason you are still alive. You took a deep breath, reveling in the fact that the game was over. He pulled you into a hug, let out a relieved sigh.

- "Thank you." You murmured softly. You pulled away when the doors unlocked and swung open. You limped toward the door, frantically searching the crowd for your allies. Young-il stood behind you, doing the same.

- When you started to move toward the exit, he offered you his arm again. You shook your head. You wanted to try to walk on your own, so you only took hold of his arm for balance when you needed it.

- You were scared of looking weak to the others. You already had one player try to get rid of you. You weren't deadweight. You tried to mask any signs that you were in pain, and that worked to hide the injury from most players.

- But Young-il knew what was going through your head, and he wanted to make sure you felt comfortable. When they received dinner with the forks, he started to use the fork as a means to get leverage to tear up the sheet.

- You were puzzled with what he was doing until he brought it over to you. "Can I wrap that up for you? Might give you a bit of stability." He said.

- You were shocked at his thoughtfulness. You really thought you weren't going to get sympathy. You nodded, stretching out your leg. The makeshift ace bandage worked well enough.

- He protected you both in the game and outside of it when he resumed his role as the Front Man. You found extras of your favorites in the tins your dinner came in. Your team was paired with the weakest group in Tug of War, so you had to do the least amount of work for the victory.

- Despite the fact you thought he was dead, he was still in your corner.

Thanos/Su-bong:

- Being an ally with the most chaotic and violent player in the games should have granted you a high level of protection, but being romantically involved with him should make you virtually untouchable. Keyword being "should."

- You ended up cornered in the hall on the return to the dorms from the bathroom. You found yourself pinned to the wall by your throat by another O player.

- "You finally don't have that purple-headed asshole to protect you, huh?" He spat, smirking in your face.

- You tried to struggle against him, leading him to tighten your grip on your throat. "Nuh-uh. You aren't getting away from me until I'm done with you." He said.

- You couldn't really get a sound out to alert anyone, and even if you could, you were probably out of earshot of the players in the dorms.

- The way Thanos found out was overhearing a conversation from two other players. "Where's 438?" One asked. The other snickered. "Taking care of Thanos's bitch." He said with a sick grin.

- Thanos jumped up, scaring Min-su with his sudden movement. "The fuck did you say?" He yelled, moving toward the pair. They realized they messed up and ran off. Thanos wanted to go after them, but reason told him to let them go. For now.

- He rushed over to the hallway, Nam-gyu followed with a roll of his eyes, and Min-su looked around before timidly walking toward the hallway, hovering in the doorway.

- In a last-ditch effort to free yourself, you let your knees give out and tried to duck out of his grasp. It allowed you to take a gasp for air, but you couldn't get away. He slammed you back into the wall, and pain radiated through your skull.

- You grabbed his wrist and tried to dig your nails into his skin. He swung his other hand to strike you in the face. You cried out from this, a noise that made Thanos move even faster.

- "Hey asshole, what the fuck are you doing?" He yelled, running up to him and shoving him away from you. You scurried back toward Nam-gyu.

- Thanos saw red. You almost couldn't watch as he kicked the player repeatedly in the stomach. "You motherfucker." He snarled.

- After a few moments, it became harder for you to watch. Nam-gyu interrupted him first. "Thanos, leave it." He urged. He didn't acknowledge him. You heard the man sputter and spit up blood. "Su-bong, please." You pleaded, voice somewhat raspy from the pain in your throat.

- He stopped for a moment, taking a deep breath before giving him one more kick and turning to leave. He instantly grabbed your hand as you walked back to the dorms.

- Before you entered the dorm, he stopped in the hallway and pulled you into a hug. He didn't want any other player to recognize that vulnerability. You felt him take a shuddering breath. "It's okay, I'm okay." You said softly.

- When you four got settled in the dorm, Thanos was noticeably quieter than usual. You caught him staring at you multiple times, likely watching the bruise form on your face and neck.

- After around an hour, he suddenly remembered the other guys who knew about your attack. He suddenly tensed up, taking a deep breath before going to stand up. You grabbed his hand. "Don't. Please."

- He sighed before pouting. You rolled your eyes at him. "Fine." He said, dragging out the word. You leaned over and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. He grinned.

- That night, it was hard for him to sleep. He found himself trying to listen for every noise to assess for any threats. Eventually, he was tired enough that he dragged himself out of his bed and moved to yours.

- He climbed into your bed. You woke up rather quickly, turning toward him. He had scared you slightly, but you didn't mention it. "What's wrong?" You murmured quietly, still half asleep.

- "Couldn't sleep." He replied. He wrapped his arms around you. It was soothing to be sure you were safe. You fell back to sleep soon after, and he followed suit.

- Waking up next to each other felt amazing. You just wished that it was under different circumstances, seeing as you awoke to the music signaling the next game would begin.

Dae-ho:

- You had been in the bathrooms when the brawl began. When you heard the commotion, you wanted to run out to the others. Safety in numbers, right?

- You got to the doorway of the bathroom exit, taking a few steps out before you were noticed by a player. An O. He seemed uninterested until his eyes flickered toward the red badge on your jacket.

- He grew a sick grin. "Looks like I'm gonna take out some trash." He said, brandishing the fork he had from dinner.

- He moved to stab toward your face, and you put your arms up to shield from the blow. You cried out as it embedded in your flesh. You kicked his kneecap, causing him to let go of the fork. He stumbled onto his knees. Without hesitation, you kicked him in the balls, making him scream out.

- You rushed into the other, luckily empty, bathroom. You locked yourself in one of the far stalls, sitting up on the tank of the toilet so your feet wouldn't be seen. You started unspooling toilet paper off the roll and packing it around the fork, which was still in your skin. You didn't think you would be able to take it out yourself without fainting.

- When Dae-ho heard a player run out from the hall yelling about an attack, he looked around and quickly realized that you weren't in the dorms. "Guys, Y/N is back there." He said frantically.

- He went to rush there, but he stopped when Young-il spoke. "I wouldn't go after them. Who knows what you'll be walking into?" He warned.

- Dae-ho glared over at him. "So I'll just leave them back there on their own? Fuck that." He shot back. He was happy to see Jung-bae stand up. "Marines have to have each other's backs, right? I'm with you." He said.

- The two rushed down the hall, dodging someone who was fleeing from the fight covered in someone's blood. When they got to the bathrooms, Dae-ho tried his best not to look in. He didn't want to be reminded of the past he tried to bury.

- Jung-bae scanned the room. "I don't think they're in there." He said. Dae-ho abandoned any care for societal norms and swung open the women's bathroom, since it seemed that only the men's bathroom broke out into a brawl.

- "Y/N?" He called out, starting to walk toward the stalls. The older man stayed by the door to keep it closed. The last thing they needed was those O bastards realizing 3 Xs cornered themselves in the bathroom.

- "Dae-ho?" You responded. You didn't move from your spot, scared it was some kind of trick. You hadn't been able to calm down since locking yourself in. You were terrified that man would come for revenge.

- He let out a sigh of relief. "Yeah, it's me. Where are you?" He asked. You got off of your seat. Your uninjured arm trembled as you tried to unlock the door, eventually managing the feat.

- He rushed over after the door swung open. He tried not to look overly shocked by the sight he saw. Your wound didn't seem to be bleeding that badly, but it was enough blood to make him somewhat queasy. But there was also an anger boiling up inside of him.

- "I-I didn't know what to do. So I... I didn't t-touch it. I couldn't." You spoke frantically, stumbling over your words.

- His eyes softened upon seeing the state you were in. "Hey. It's gonna be fine. You're safe now. I'm gonna help you, okay?" He said, trying to console you.

- He started to get a wad of the paper and held in on the side of the fork. "This is probably going to hurt, but I need to do this." He warned. You nodded, squeezing your eyes shut so you didn't need to see it.

- He tried to remove it as gently as he could. You whimpered. "I know, I know, I'm sorry." He murmured. When it was out, he pressed the paper on the wound, holding it by wrapping his hand around your forearm.

- After keeping the pressure for a few moments, he looked you, using his free hand to wipe the tear from your face. "Sir, can you look to see if the brawl has ended?" He called out. You heard the door open, and it was significantly quieter out there. "I think the coast is clear." The older man called back.

- Dae-ho let out a relieved sigh. "Can you hold this?" He asked. You nodded slightly, replacing his hand with your own. You stood up shakily, still bit panicky as the adrenaline started to wear off. When you entered the hallway, he wrapped an arm around your shoulders.

- When you rejoined your group, most were relieved to see you, but Young-il had a look that you couldn't place. He was almost bitter that Dae-ho hadn't listened to him. Neither of you paid that much attention to it.

- You sat down with your back against the wall. He went to one of the empty beds and pulled the pillowcase off the pillow. He came back and sat down next to you. He managed to wrap the fabric around the wound. It was a bit awkward, but it worked to cover the wound and maintain some pressure.

- He grinned once he tucked the edge into itself and it stayed put. "Good as new." He said jokingly.

- You smiled and laughed, a sound that really put him at ease. "I wouldn't go that far." You said. You paused for a moment before looking up at him. "Thank you for coming back for me." You said sincerely.

- He looked jokingly offended. "As if I would just leave you back there, give me a little credit." He said, voice exuding his boyish charm.

- You decided to play into this. You gave an exaggerated sigh before saying, "My hero!" Like someone in distress would say to the knight who saved them. You leaned up to give him a kiss on the cheek. He felt his face heat up, and you giggled before leaning your head on his shoulder.

- He couldn't get the stupid smile off his face. He was down bad. He made a silent vow to himself to make sure the two of you got out of here. He didn't care if the others would call him naive. There wasn't a thing he wouldn't do for you.

#nick writes stuff #squid game fanfic #squid game x reader #gi hun x reader #in ho x reader #young il x reader #su bong x reader #thanos x reader #dae ho x reader #injured reader #squid game x you #choi su bong x reader #hwang in ho x reader #seong gi hun x reader #kang dae ho x reader

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todayisafridaynight · 2 years ago

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Kiryu's trying so hard to be a good dad for all of his kids while Kazama very clearly only favored Kiryu. Do I think this was an intentional writing decision? Probably not but it's interesting

intentional or not, its a good perspective and helps explain why kiryu Is Like That. especially if we want to look at the case of nishiki who was given too much power before he was ready to handle it (and around the same age as daigo too if not a little younger), kiryu wants to make sure daigo doesnt similarly crumble under that pressure that nishiki did. we know nishiki's death haunts him for at least five games after the fact- it's no wonder he's so hyperfocused on making sure it doesn't happen again

the problem lies in that, just like kazama to nishiki, kiryu was the reason why daigo got that much power in such a short amount of time anyway. we know he acknowledges this, which is probably why he tries so hard for the tojo despite wanting to distance himself from the yakuza world. kazama did the bare minimum- if anything- for nishiki. and while we know kiryu respected kazama immensely, i want to hope over the years he's realized that leaving a young man in a powerful position unprepared isn't a good idea, esp after mine rubbed salt in the wound and called him out for abandoning the tojo- ergo daigo, so now he especially feels like he has to make it up to him.

if he couldn't help nishiki, then the next best thing he can do is help someone he considers his son- as if trying to right the wrong kazama did and be a better father, whether he can admit or not to kazama failing to take care of nishiki

but the follow up problem to THAT is he's neglecting his other kids when he does go to help. it wouldnt be a problem if RGG remembered the ryudo family and they could watch the kids while he's gone or something, but since they don't we just have to assume haruka's unfortunately been left to act as big sister to all these kids, and THAT has undoubtedly bred a great burden of feeling responsible when she's only a kid. it's really unfortunate that while kiryu apologizes to daigo repeatedly, he never apologizes to haruka for leaving her alone and in charge so many times (i actually thought kiryu's letter in Y6 was supposed to go to haruka at first). it's made her feel as though she has to take care of everyone and she has to be the strong one for the family when kiryu's away, and because of that we get problems like Y5 and Y6

in all of this, and in a terrible twist of irony, in trying to prevent one of his loved ones from enduring a similar fate as nishiki, he's now jeopardizing his relationship with his other kids- he's now unintentionally putting haruka on the back burner because he's so traumatized over what happened to his brother. he might have prevented another nishiki situation, but haruka had to be collateral as a result

#snap chats #of couse it wasnt just kazama giving power to nishiki that was the problem he was obvi dealing with his sister too #but we get what im saying right #honestly i hadnt even considered all of this until you pointed it out anon and im really glad you did #it really helped shine a light and explain things to me #again i dont think kiryus doing these things with bad faith- hes doing it for the exact opposite actually #he's just so wrapped up on preventing the past from happening again he's not focused on everything else around him #like poor haruka i feel so bad for her but i also cant hate kiryu because i know hes trying #again its a complicated situation no one's 'evil' here- irresponsible and neglectful sure #but it's not like kiryu's happy to punt haruka to the side to catch a flight to tokyo #like again kiryu please daigo's a grown man he's gona fumble the bag a bit but please trust him #i know after Y4 it's hard to do that but trust him #honestly he seemed to be alright until majima 'died' in Y5 THEN he felt like he actually had to do something #oughhh kiryu i love you.. i love how messy you are #but haruka makes me so sad she reminds me of my brother sometimes #love how Y4 and Y6 is like. Hi Kiryu You Ready To Suffer The Consequences Of Your Actions #but yeah theres my monthly Kiryu Is A Dad ramble of the month thanks for indulging me

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joelmillerisapunk · 8 months ago

Text

Tastes like strawberries

Dbf!Joel miller x f!reader

Masterlist

Wordcount: 6,367 (ma bad)

Summary: after accidentally sending your dads best friend a provocative photo meant for someone else you go to "apologize" in person.

Warnings: 18+, age gap (make it your own), handcuffs, scissors, power imbalance, alcohol consumption, f&m oral receiving, joel wrecks your clothes, unprotected p in v, reader has hair and wears a dress, just two consenting adults

Notes: this wasn't meant to be so long. But here we are. Thank you for reading hope you like it <3 Thank you @syd-djarin @joelslegalwhre and @mountainsandmayhem for beta'ing sending you all smooches! and @saradika-graphics for the divider <3 <3 <3

The soft glow of your phone screen illuminates your face in the dimly lit room. Your heart races with a mix of excitement and nerves as you craft the perfect message to the guy you've been chatting with on Tinder. His name is Joel, and he seems different from the others—charming, mature, and undeniably intriguing.

With a deep breath, you attach the sexy photo you'd taken earlier, one that you hope he'll find irresistible. You type out a flirty caption, double-check the name at the top of the chat, and hit send before you can second-guess yourself.

The next morning, you wake up to a message notification. Your heart leaps, thinking it's Tinder Joel, but as you reach for your phone, a sense of dread washes over you. The message is from your father's best friend, Joel Miller, a man you've known since childhood and who has seen you grow up. The preview of the message from last night is enough to make your blood run cold.

11:58PM: I think you might have sent this to the wrong person, sweetheart.

Panic sets in as you read the full message and your face flames with embarrassment. You type out a flurry of apologies, each one more frantic than the last. Joel's response is swift and unexpected.

8:05AM: It's all good, baby girl. You don't need those Tinder boys when I'm right here for ya.

The message is accompanied by a winking emoji, and despite your mortification, you can't help but feel a thrill at the familiarity and warmth in his words.

—

Determined to apologize in person and clear the air, you find yourself outside the sleek glass building that houses Joel's wine company Vita Vino: where every sip is a celebration of life. You certainly don't feel very celebratory at this moment as the receptionist leads you up to the top floor, where Joel's office overlooks the city with floor-to-ceiling windows.

You step into the office, where you see the cityscape sprawling behind Joel. He rises from his desk, a smile playing on his lips, his presence commanding the room. "Come in, sweetheart, was hopin’ to see ya," he says and winks.

You manage to find your voice, despite the fluttering in your chest. "Mr. Miller, I can't tell you how sorry I am. I was mortified when I realized - I don't know what I was thinking, it was meant for someone—"

He cuts you off with a gentle raise of his hand to still your frantic words. "Please call me Joel, you know better than callin me that. It's okay darlin. Really. These things happen."

You look up at him, searching his face for any sign of judgement, but find only a calm, reassuring smile. "I just—I never meant for you to see that. I feel so stupid.”

Joel's smile broadens, and he takes a step closer. "You have nothing to feel stupid about. You're a beautiful, confident woman. Ain't no shame in that. Listen, what you sent—it was for my eyes only from the moment it reached my phone. I want you to know that you can trust me. I would never disrespect you by sharing that with anyone.”

His words resonate with you, and you feel the weight of your embarrassment start to lift. "I appreciate that, Joel. I really do."

He takes a step toward you, closing the distance between you two. His hand lifts, and you feel the warmth of his fingers as they gently tilt your chin up, forcing your gaze to meet his. "You've got nothing to thank me for darlin. I'm just being honest with you."

The intensity of his stare sends a jolt of electricity through you. He's close enough now that you can feel the heat radiating off his body, and the scent of his cologne fills your senses, making your head spin. But before you can respond, he releases your chin and moves to the side, gesturing toward a large, framed map of the world's wine regions that hangs on the wall. As you both turn to look at it, your bodies are almost touching, and you can feel the subtle brush of his arm against yours.

"I want to show you something," he says, pointing to a very tiny out of the way region highlighted in gold. "It's where we get the grapes for our signature blend. You know, just like those grapes, sometimes the best things in life are unexpected surprises."

As he explains the intricacies of the wine-making process, his hand drifts to the small of your back, a possessive gesture that sends a shiver down your spine. His touch is light, but the message is clear—he's staking a claim.

As Joel's hand lingers on the small of your back, his thumb traces small, intimate circles that make it hard to focus on his words about wine. The room seems to shrink, the city outside the windows fading into insignificance as your awareness narrows to the man beside you.

You swallow hard, your breath hitching as Joel's thumb continues its maddeningly delightful exploration. The heat from his hand seems to seep through the fabric of your clothes, branding your skin with his touch. "Joel," you whisper, your voice barely above a murmur. His name feels foreign and familiar on your lips.

He turns to look at you. "Yes, darlin'?" he replies, his voice a low rumble that vibrates through you.

You take a deep breath, steadying yourself against the intoxicating effect he has on you. "I -I should go," you say, though the words feel hollow even as they leave your mouth. The last thing you want is to leave this room and the spell Joel has cast over you.

A slow smile spreads across his face, and he shakes his head slightly. "Do you really want to leave?" he asks, his hand pressing ever so slightly into your back, urging you closer.

The question hangs in the air between you, charged with anticipation and the promise of something deliciously forbidden. You know that saying yes will irrevocably change things between you and Joel Miller—the man who is friends with your father—but in this moment, none of that seems to matter.

The air between you crackles with tension, the weight of your decision pressing down on you. You're acutely aware of the way your heart is pounding in your chest, the way your breath has become shallow and rapid. Joel's eyes are locked onto yours, a silent challenge that dares you to take a leap into the unknown.

"No," you admit, the word tasting like a confession. "I don't want to leave."

The smile that lights up Joel's face is predatory, triumphant. "Good girl," he murmurs, the approval in his voice sends a thrill through you. He steps back, giving you both a moment to breathe, to let the gravity of your decision settle in the space between you. "I've got something special I've been saving for an occasion like this," Joel says. He moves toward a polished wooden cabinet on the far side of the room. The cabinet is locked, but he produces a key from his pocket with a flourish that makes you smile despite the tension coiling in your belly.

Inside the cabinet is an array of exquisite bottles, each one surely holding a story as rich and complex as its contents. Joel's hand lingers over them before finally selecting one with a label that looks older than you are. "This," he says, holding it up to the light so you can see the liquid within, "is a 1947 Cheval Blanc. One of the finest vintages ever produced."

Your eyes widen at the sight of it. "Joel, I can't... that must be worth a fortune," you protest weakly, even as part of you yearns to experience such rare luxury.

He chuckles softly, shaking his head as he retrieves two crystal glasses from the cabinet. "Money isn't everything, darlin'." His gaze meets yours again, filled with an intensity that takes your breath away. "I can't think of anyone I'd rather share this with than you."

You watch in silence as he expertly uncorks the bottle and pours a small amount into each glass, the wine swirling like liquid rubies. He hands one to you and then raises his own in a toast. "To unexpected surprises," he says with a knowing smile.

The wine is velvet on your tongue, rich and complex with layers of flavor that seem to unfold endlessly as you sip it. You close your eyes for a moment, savoring the experience—and when you open them again Joel is watching you with an intensity that makes your knees weak. The atmosphere in the room has shifted, becoming charged with a desire that's as intoxicating as the wine you're sharing.

"You look so beautiful when you enjoy something.”

As the last drops of the exquisite wine coat your throat, you lower your glass, your senses heightened by the rich flavors and the man standing before you. Joel's gaze is fixed on you, his eyes dark with desire that mirrors the pulsing need growing within you. He takes a step closer, the heat of his body enveloping you as he reaches out to brush a stray lock of hair behind your ear.

"I want to show you more than just wine," he says, his voice a low growl that sends shivers down your spine. "There's a whole world of pleasures I can introduce you to.”

“Joel, I dont know what to say.”

“Nothin’, you dont have to say anything pretty girl.”

As the last drops of the Cheval Blanc dance on your tongue, Joel takes a step closer, his gaze never leaving yours. He reaches out to take your glass, setting it aside on a nearby table. His fingers graze yours in the process, sending a jolt of electricity up your arm. You're acutely aware of the warmth of his body, the way his shirt stretches across his broad chest, the subtle hint of stubble along his jawline.

Joel turns back to the wine cabinet to return the precious bottle to its place of honor. As he opens the cabinet door, there's a soft clinking sound, and something metallic tumbles out from one of the shelves, landing with a thud on the plush carpet at your feet.

You both glance down simultaneously. There, gleaming under the soft glow of the office lights, is a pair of handcuffs. They're not just any handcuffs—they're high-quality, with a polished finish that suggests they've been well cared for. Your eyes widen in surprise, and you can feel a heat creeping up your cheeks as you look back at Joel.

"Well, that's not something I expected to show you today," he says with a sheepish grin, rubbing the back of his neck in a rare display of awkwardness.

You stare at the handcuffs and then back at Joel, your heart pounding in your chest. "Are those...?" You trail off, unable to finish the sentence.

Joel chuckles softly, his eyes twinkling with mischief as he nods. "Yes, they are.”

You're not sure what to think, you can only imagine how many women he's used those on, right here in his office. The thought sends a thrill through you, a mix of jealousy and excitement at the idea of being one of those women, of sharing in this secret, kinky side of Joel that he's kept hidden from the world. "I didn't peg you for the type," you say.

Joel's eyes lock onto yours, the playful glint in them replaced by a serious intensity. "There's a lot you don't know about me, darlin'," he admits. "And there's a lot I'd like to show you, if you're willing.”

You know that picking up those handcuffs would be crossing a line, stepping into a world of pleasure and exploration that you've never experienced before. But the thought of surrendering control to Joel, of letting him guide you through uncharted territory, is exhilarating.

Slowly, you reach down and pick up the handcuffs, the cold metal warming in your grasp. You hold them out to Joel, your heart racing as you give him a silent nod of consent. A slow, approving smile spreads across his face as he takes the handcuffs from you.

His fingers brush against your wrists, sending sparks of electricity through your veins. You hear the soft click of the handcuffs as they close around your wrists. The sensation of being bound, of being at Joel's mercy, is both thrilling and terrifying.

"There," he says, his breath hot against your ear as he steps in front of you, a predatory glint in his eyes. "Now you're mine."

The words send a jolt of desire through you, pooling low in your belly. You're aware of the way your body responds to his words, to the dominance radiating off him in waves. "What are you going to do with me?" you ask.

Joel's smile is wicked as he reaches out to trace the line of your jaw with his finger. "Whatever I want," he says, the promise in his voice making your knees weak. "But don't worry, darlin'. I'm going to make sure you enjoy every single second of it.”

He guides you toward the large, mahogany desk that dominates his office. The surface is clear, save for a sleek laptop and a few neatly stacked papers. With a gentle hand on your shoulder, he urges you to sit on the edge of the desk, the cool wood against your skin a stark contrast to the heat radiating from his touch.

Joel steps back, his gaze raking over you as he begins to undress and it's as if time slows down, allowing you to take in every inch of his mature, ruggedly handsome form. Joel's suit is tailored to perfection, emphasizing his broad shoulders and muscular arms. Each movement he makes stretches the fabric across his toned body. With practiced ease, he removes it and then unbuttons his crisp, white dress shirt. His chest is a canvas of sun-kissed skin pulled taut over defined pectoral muscles. A smattering of gray hair dusts his chest, trailing down his toned abdomen and disappearing into the waistband of his trousers. Joel's hands move to his belt, and with a flick of his wrist, he unbuckles it, the metallic clink echoing in the quiet room. He slides the leather out of the loops with a slow, deliberate motion. His trousers follow, pooling at his feet to reveal a pair of black boxer briefs that hug his powerful thighs and leave little to the imagination.

His arousal is evident, straining against the soft fabric, and you can't help but feel a thrill at the sight. As he pushes his boxer briefs down, his cock springs free, thick and heavy with desire. His cock is a thing of beauty, perfectly proportioned to his large frame, with a defined shaft and a bulbous head that glistens with a drop of arousal. It's clear that Joel is a man confident in his sexuality and the effect he has on you.

"Eyes up here, darlin'," he teases, but the heat in his gaze tells you he enjoys your appraisal. Joel's eyes twinkle with mischief as he reaches into the top drawer of his desk, the sound of metal against wood sending a shiver of anticipation down your spine. He produces a pair of scissors. The sight of them in his large, capable hands is intimidating. "These," he says, holding up the scissors for you to see, "are going to help me unwrap my present." His voice is filled with a promise that sends a thrill straight to your core.

You swallow hard, your breath hitching as he steps toward you. "Joel, wait—" you start to protest, but the words die on your lips as he places a finger gently against them.

"Shh... trust me," he murmurs, and there's something in his eyes that makes it impossible for you to do anything but nod in silent acquiescence. With a tenderness that belies his strength, Joel takes hold of one of the straps of your dress. The cold steel of the scissors brushes against your skin as he carefully slides the blades beneath the fabric. You feel a momentary resistance and then—snip—the strap gives way, falling limply to your side as Joel cuts through it with practiced ease. The front of your dress sags slightly, revealing more of your cleavage than intended. You can feel the heat rising in your cheeks as Joel's gaze darkens with desire. "You are exquisite," he says reverently, his fingers tracing the newly exposed skin along the neckline of your dress.

Before you can respond, he's moving again, this time cutting away the other strip of fabric that hold up the rest of your dress. The material falls away from your body like petals from a blooming flower, pooling at your waist and leaving you feeling deliciously exposed under his hungry gaze.

"Joel!" you gasp, both startled and exhilarated by his boldness. "My dress—"

He silences you with a kiss—a deep, searing kiss that leaves no room for doubt about how much he wants you right now. "Don't worry about it," he says when he finally pulls away, “I'll buy you ten more just like it.”

With your heart pounding in your chest, you watch as Joel's attention shifts to your bra. The scissors glint in the soft light of his office, and you can't help but hold your breath as he positions the blades against the delicate fabric of your bra strap.

"I've been wanting to see these since the moment ya walked in baby," he confesses, his voice a low growl that sends a shiver down your spine. With a swift, precise movement, he snips through the strap on one side, then the other. The bra loosens around you, but it's still held in place by the underwire and your modesty is preserved—for now.

Joel sets the scissors aside and hooks his fingers under the remaining fabric of your dress and bra. He tugs gently, peeling away the layers of clothing that separate you from his touch. You lift your hips to assist him, and with a final tug, he frees you from both garments. You're sitting before him now in nothing but your underwear, feeling more vulnerable and exposed than ever before.

Joel's eyes roam over every inch of exposed skin with an intensity that makes it clear just how much he appreciates what he sees laid out before him on his desk like some kind of erotic feast prepared just for him. "You are absolutely breathtaking," he murmurs appreciatively as his hands follow where his eyes have just been caressing every curve along its way. Joel's hands continue their exploration, his fingers skimming over the soft fabric of your underwear. You can feel the heat of his touch through the thin material, and you can't help but arch into his touch, seeking more.

"Eager, aren't we?" he teases, his fingers tracing the edge of your underwear before dipping beneath the fabric. His fingertips graze your sensitive flesh, and a gasp escapes your lips as pleasure courses through you. "I like that," he murmurs, his voice thick with desire.

Your body responds to his touch with an eagerness that surprises you. He hooks his fingers under the waistband of your underwear, pulling them down slowly, his gaze never leaving yours. "Lift up for me, darlin'," he instructs. You do as he says, lifting your hips so he can slide the underwear down your legs. Once they're off, he tosses them aside carelessly, as if they're nothing more than a bothersome impediment to what he truly wants—you. Now you're completely exposed to him, sitting on the edge of his desk with your hands cuffed and your legs spread slightly. You feel vulnerable like this, but there's also a sense of empowerment in knowing that you've driven him to such lengths of desire.

Joel steps back to appreciate the view, his eyes darkening with lust as they roam over your naked body. "You are a masterpiece," he says reverently, his gaze lingering on the apex of your thighs before traveling up to meet your eyes. "And I am going to worship every inch of you."

Before you can respond, he drops to his knees in front of you, his hands gripping your thighs as he buries his face between your legs. His tongue swipes across your sensitive flesh, and a moan escapes your lips as pleasure shoots through you. Joel's tongue delves deeper, lapping at your folds and teasing your clit with gentle flicks. You gasp, arching into his touch as he explores you with a skill that leaves you panting for more. His hands squeeze your thighs, holding you in place as he devours you. You feel the world around you melt away as his attention focuses solely on bringing you pleasure.

As he works his magic between your legs, Joel's other hand travels up to cup one of your breasts, tweaking a nipple gently before rolling it between his fingers. The sensation sends shockwaves of desire coursing through you, heightening the pleasure he's already coaxing from below. Your hips buck against him in response to the exquisite torment and ecstasy that overwhelms you.

You can feel yourself growing wetter by the moment under his ministrations, and when Joel finally takes your clit into his mouth with a soft suckling sound that echoes in the quiet room, it's almost too much to bear. He sucks gently at first before increasing the pressure until your whole body tenses and shudders with release. As the waves of pleasure crash over you, Joel's mouth never leaves your sensitive flesh. He laps at you with long, languid strokes, drawing out your orgasm until you're left trembling and gasping for air. Your body is still pulsing with the aftershocks when he finally pulls back, his lips glistening with your arousal.

He looks up at you, his eyes dark with lust. "You taste as sweet as I imagined," he growls, his voice rough with desire. He brings his fingers to his mouth, sucking them clean with a groan of satisfaction. The sight of him tasting you is incredibly erotic, and you feel a fresh surge of arousal at the thought of him enjoying your pleasure so thoroughly. "Come on now, be a good girl and follow me,” he says, rising to his feet. He reaches for the chain between the handcuffs, using it to guide you off the desk and toward the plush leather couch that sits against the far wall of his office.

You stumble slightly, still dizzy from your orgasm, but Joel's strong arm wraps around your waist, holding you steady. He positions you on the couch, your back against the soft leather and your hands still cuffed, placing them above your head. He kneels beside you, his body looming over yours as he captures your lips in a searing kiss. You can taste yourself on his tongue and it makes you dizzy. "Spread those pretty legs for me, darlin'," he murmurs against your lips, and you comply without hesitation, eager for whatever he has planned next. He reaches down to stroke your inner thighs. "You're so wet for me, so ready," he says, his voice filled with approval.

He positions himself between your legs, the tip of his cock nudging against your slick entrance. You look up at him, your eyes meeting his in a silent plea for more. He responds with a slow, deliberate thrust that fills you completely. The sensation of him inside you is overwhelming, and you can't help but cry out in pleasure.

"That's it, such a goodgirl, aren’tcha?" he groans, beginning to move inside you with a rhythm that quickly has you panting and writhing beneath him. "I know baby, s'big but you can take it darlin. C’mon take me inside that pretty pussy.”

His thrusts grow more urgent, more demanding, and you meet each one with a desperation that matches his own. The sound of skin on skin fills the room, punctuated by your cries of pleasure and his low, guttural moans.

Joel's hand snakes between your bodies, his fingers finding your clit and rubbing it in time with his thrusts. The added stimulation is almost too much to bear, and you feel another orgasm building within you, stronger and more intense than the first. "Come for me, darlin'," he commands. "Wanna feel you make a sweet mess on my cock."

His words push you over the edge, and you explode around him, your body convulsing with the force of your release. He continues to thrust through your orgasm, drawing it out until you're left limp and boneless beneath him.

Just as the waves of your orgasm subsides, Joel slowly withdraws from you, leaving you feeling empty and exposed. He stands before you, his cock glistening with your arousal, and there's a predatory glint in his eyes that sends a thrill of anticipation through you.

"On your knees, darlin'," he commands, his voice a low growl that brooks no argument. You scramble to obey, the handcuffs clinking together as you shift your position on the couch. He steps closer, his cock at eye level, and you can't help but lick your lips in anticipation.

Joel's cock is a sight to behold—a testament to his virility and raw masculinity. It's thick and long, with a prominent vein running along the underside that pulses. The shaft is smooth and warm to the touch, the skin soft yet taut over the steel-hard erection beneath. His girth is substantial. The head of his cock is a deep shade of pink, almost purple with engorgement, and it glistens with a bead of precum that entices you like the sweet promise of a popsicle on a sweltering summer day. You can't help but lean forward, extending your tongue to taste him. The salty-sweet flavor of his essence dances on your taste buds as you lap at him, eliciting a deep groan of pleasure from Joel that vibrates through his body and into yours.

"Open wide," he instructs, his hand fisting his shaft as he guides himself toward your waiting mouth. You part your lips obediently, and he slides inside, filling your mouth with his impressive girth. He tastes musky and salty, a heady combination that makes your head spin.

"That's it, baby girl," he groans, his fingers threading through your hair as he begins to thrust gently into your mouth. "Take it nice and deep."

You relax your throat, trying to accommodate his size as he sets a steady rhythm, fucking your mouth with slow, deliberate thrusts. You can feel the head of his cock hitting the back of your throat, and you fight the urge to gag, wanting to please him, to show him that you can handle everything he gives you.

"Such a good girl," he praises, his words spurring you on. "You look so fucking beautiful with my cock in your mouth."

His praise washes over you, filling you with a sense of pride and arousal. You moan around him, the vibrations making him hiss with pleasure. His grip on your hair tightens, and he pulls you closer, pushing deeper into your throat.

"Fuck, yes," he groans, his hips jerking as he hits the perfect spot. "Just like that. Don't stop."

You can feel the tension building in his body, the way his thighs tremble slightly with each thrust. You know he's close, and the knowledge that you're the one bringing him to the edge fills you with a sense of power.

Suddenly, he pulls out, his cock leaving your mouth with a wet pop. "Not yet," he says, his voice strained. "Wanna come inside ya baby, make a mess in that tasty cunt."

He helps you to your feet and guides you back to the desk, bending you over it so that your ass is in the air and gives you a light smack to one cheek. He reaches between your legs, his fingers easily sliding into your soaked pussy. "Goddamn baby, you're still so wet," he marvels, his fingers pumping in and out of you with a rhythm that quickly has you panting for more.

Without warning, he pulls his fingers out and replaces them with his cock, slamming into you with a force that makes you cry out in surprise and pleasure. He sets a brutal pace, his hips slapping against your ass with each powerful thrust.

"You feel that, darlin'?" he growls, his hands gripping your hips tightly. "That's me claiming what's mine."

His words send a jolt of desire through you, and you push back against him, meeting each thrust with one of your own. You can feel another orgasm building, the pressure coiling low in your belly.

"Come for me one more time," he commands, his hand reaching around to strum your clit with quick, expert strokes. "Wanna feel you milk my cock."

His words push you over the edge, and you come around him, your entire core pulsing around his girth and with a final, powerful thrust, Joel buries himself deep inside you, his cock pulsing as he finds his own release. You can feel him filling you up, the warmth of his seed spreading through you as he groans out his pleasure.

Spent, he collapses on top of you, his body heavy and sated. After a moment, he pulls out and helps you to stand, his hands gentle as he uncuffs you and massages your wrists.

"You are somethin’ else that's for sure babygirl," he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

You smile up at him, "I'm glad I could make you feel good," you reply with a soft voice.

Joel chuckles and gives you a quick, playful swat on the ass. "Make me feel good? Baby girl, you blew my mind."

He reaches into a drawer and pulls out a sleek, black whip. "Next time," he says, holding it up for you to see, "we can play with this. But for now, I think we've both had enough excitement for one day."

You stand there for a moment, still reeling from the intensity of your encounter, and then you remember—your dress is in tatters on the floor. You gather the remnants of your clothing, holding them up in front of you like a shield. "What do I do about this?" you ask.

Joel looks at you with a mischievous grin, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "What size are you, darlin'?" he asks, reaching for his phone on the desk.

You tell him your size, still feeling a bit flustered as he dials a number and speaks into the receiver. "Hey, Lexi? Yeah, I need you to pick up a dress for our guest here.” He looks at you questioningly, and you repeat your size for his benefit. "Got it. And make it something nice—surprise me.” There's a brief pause as he listens to his assistant's response before hanging up the phone with a satisfied nod. "Lexi will take care of everything," he assures you with a wink that sends butterflies fluttering in your stomach once again despite yourself.

True to his word, less than twenty minutes later, there's a knock on the office door. Lexi, Joel's assistant, enters the room with a professional smile and several shopping bags from high-end boutiques. "Here you go, Mr. Miller," she says, setting them down next to where you're standing, like this is completely normal. "I hope these will suffice."

"Thank you, Lexi," Joel responds with a nod of appreciation. "I'm sure they'll be perfect." Lexi exits the room as quickly as she came in, leaving you once again alone with Joel. He gestures toward the bags with a playful smile. "Go on, darlin'. Pick your favorite."

You rummage through the bags and find an elegant black dress that looks like it would fit you perfectly. It's sophisticated yet sexy—just like the man who bought it for you. With a shy smile, you hold it up for Joel to see.

"Perfect choice," he says approvingly. "Why don't you try it on?"

You slip into the dress, feeling its soft fabric hug your curves in all the right places. When you turn around to show Joel, his eyes light up with appreciation. "You look stunning," he murmurs sincerely while walking over towards where you were standing before wrapping an arm around your waist then pulling you closer so he could whisper into your ear "But then again I knew you would." His words send shivers down your spine causing goosebumps to form all over your skin despite how warm it was inside his office at this moment.

As Joel takes a moment to drink in the sight of you in the new dress, you can't help but feel a deep sense of satisfaction. The way his eyes darken with desire, even after everything you've shared, is intoxicating. It's clear that his interest in you isn't just a fleeting attraction—it's something much deeper and more intense.

You smile at him, your heart fluttering in your chest. "Thank you, Joel," you reply softly. "For everything."

He chuckles and shakes his head slightly. "Don't thank me yet, darlin'. The day's still young. Now what do you say I get ya home safe."

With that tantalizing promise hanging in the air between you, Joel helps you into your coat—a thoughtful gesture that makes you feel cared for. He escorts you out of his office and down to the parking garage where his sleek black sports car is waiting. The ride back to your place is filled with easy conversation and shared laughter, the chemistry between you two undeniable and electric.

When he pulls up in front of your building, he turns off the engine and turns to face you. "I had a great time with you today," he says sincerely, reaching out to tuck a stray lock of hair behind your ear. "I hope this isn't the last time I get to see that beautiful smile of yours."

You look up at him through your lashes, feeling bold despite the vulnerability coursing through you. "I don't think that will be a problem," you say with a playful smirk.

Joel grins back at, “that's my good girl.”

As you step out of the car, the cool air wraps around you. You turn to say goodbye, but he's already getting out of the driver's seat, coming around to your side of the car.

"Let me walk you to your door," he says, offering his arm with a gentlemanly charm that belies the fiery passion you've shared. You accept with a nod, and together, you walk toward the entrance of your building.

The silence between you is comfortable, filled with the unspoken knowledge of what transpired between you two. As you reach your door, you turn to face him, your heart pounding in your chest. "Thank you again, Joel, for today," you say softly, "for everything."

Joel smiles at you. "The pleasure was all mine," he replies with a wink and leans in close enough that his breath ghosts over your lips when he speaks again. "But I have a feeling we're just getting started."

With those words hanging in the air between you like a promise of more incredible days to come, Joel takes a step back and heads back toward his car parked by curbside leaving only echoes behind him.

As the door to your building clicks shut behind you, you lean against it. The memory of his touch, his kiss, his words—they all send shivers of delight coursing through your veins. You can't help but smile to yourself as you replay the events of the day in your mind, each moment more thrilling than the last.

You're startled out of your reverie by the buzzing of your phone in your purse. Fishing it out, you see a notification on the screen - a new message from Joel. Your heart skips a beat as you open it, curiosity and excitement mingling within you.

1:07PM: Can't wait to unwrap that pretty little package again."

The words alone are enough to send a jolt of desire through you, but then you notice an attachment—a picture. With trembling hands, you open it and find exactly what you were hoping for - a photo of Joel's large burly hand wrapping around his even thicker, larger cock, hard and ready for you once more. You realize he must have taken that in his car.

Your breath catches in your throat as you take in the sight of Joel's arousal, so potent and vivid on your screen. The knowledge that he's thinking about you, that he's hard and ready again so soon after your encounter, sends a thrill of power through you. You type out a quick response, your fingers flying over the keys with a boldness that matches the newfound confidence he's awakened in you.

1:10PM I hope you're not driving and texting that picture. Keep your eyes on the road, Mr. Miller. you tease, adding a winking emoji for good measure.

His response is almost immediate, a testament to his eagerness.

1:10PM Don't worry, darlin'. I'm parked outside your building. Couldn't resist sending you a little something to dream about tonight.

You can't help but smile at his words, your body already aching for his touch once more. But before you can respond, another message comes through with an address.

1:11PM Tomorrow, 8 PM. My place. Wear something comfortable and easy to take off.

1:12PM Yes sir.

1:13PM Oh baby you're walking Into whole new territory calling me sir. I'm going to put that pretty mouth to good use tomorrow.

Just as you're about to put your phone down a last message comes through

1:13PM And leave the underwear at home.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #joel miller #pedro pascal

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