#also why is tumblr not putting in my keep readings line

[shortsweetespresso]

okay, but on a serious note, as someone with a degree in history, this is a terrifying event. not only is this showing that our leaders and former leaders are not safe from an attack, but this attempt also happened against a former president that may will use this to his advantage. this man, a former REALITY TV STAR, knows how to play a crowd. he knows how to put on a show and manipulate people to be on his side. he already has an insane fan base who has ALREADY incited an insurrection attempt on the very government they CLAIM TO LOVE.

history loves a martyr, and a living martyr can make things worse. whether this was real or staged, it will be treated as real by every single news source that matters unless proven otherwise -- which could end up being proven years down the line. the right are already using this as a reason to vote for trump. I can't scroll through my facebook without people in every single group I'm in discussing this. all press is good press, especially to the right wing where they can spread their propaganda.

this night is going to be in history books. unless the American people come together, and EVERYONE who can vote against trump, votes for Biden (god help us), this night may very well be listed in the reasons fascism came to take hold of the United States.

you can read the reasons why World War I and II happened, and you can see the clear picture as all of those reasons are laid out in front of you.

Not to fear monger, but World War III's causes are already being laid out in front of us clearly, unless we can work together to stop it. Ukraine, Palestine, and many other places are already the places of first conflict. take a look around. read the news from all angles.

Vote. VOTE. V O T E. FUCKING VOTE. Biden is the much lesser of two evils, and it literally hurts to say that the president currently funding a Palestinian genocide is the better option, and the fact that I HAVE to vote for him in order to keep trump out of power is breaking me and everything I am inside. biden is funding it -- yet trump said he would help israel "finish the job"

donate to Palestinians. donate to the people of Ukraine. vote democrat in the 2024 election.

I'm sorry that this is not the most eloquently written tumblr essay, but I am terrified.

[meganwhalenturner]

A CONTEST!

Hey, I try to keep this site rage free, but we're headed into Banned Book Week and I need all of you to register to vote and there's no way to talk about these things without passing along upsetting information. I still hate the Hobby Lobby people with a passion and have no doubt I will be telling you why.

So, to provide all of us with incidental relief and to celebrate Hodderscape's publication of The Return of the Thief on 10 October, I am going to have a contest. 🎉 Woohoo!

I am going to give away FIVE sets of all six books in their beautiful new covers.

How can you win?

As always, I want everyone to be able to participate, so this will be a random draw. You can enter up to five times. Post your entry on any social media site and send me a link to it. (My address is on my webpage, but it is ~mwt@gmail.com only you need to spell out the word for the symbol in front of my initials. It is a tilde.) Reblogs of previous posts are totally legit as long as they are your work. You have to be able to send a link and I have to be able to click it and see the post. So, nothing that requires me to have an account or get behind a paywall or your entry will be invalid. I will repost some, but probably not all of the entries. If your entry isn't reposted by me it doesn't affect your chance of winning. Please use a hashtag so everyone can admire them.

#WinASignedSetofTheQueensThief2024

That hashtag might be overly particular, but hey.

Please send one email per entry and put the hashtag in the subject line.

Contest starts now and runs through November 1st just because All Saints is one of my favorite days of the year. It is US only, for now.

There are three different kinds of entries

Fan Art-- it would be nice if it's new, but it doesn't have to be new. I'll particularly appreciate it if you post a very old and a new picture to show us how your art has changed over time (or hasn't changed--mine hasn't--it's still bad)

Readers Advisory -- tell some unsuspecting soul why they want to read my books. No spoilers, obviously.

Cover Art Admiration--Post the cover of any book and tell us what you like about it. Let's please share the love with the people at Hodder and with the artist Katie Ponder.

As you know, I am terrible at social media. Entering the contest means being okay with me reposting your art here on tumblr and also ineptly on Instagram if I can figure out how.

[mr-walkingrainbow]

DESCENDANTS: The Rise of Red! (or the REAL hidden story in the movie + what’s gonna happen in the sequel THEORY!)

So we ALL watched the movie right? We ALL thought the plot sucked and the movie ended abruptly with a underwhelming climax?

WELL HERES WHY WERE WRONG!

So I did some really deep thinking, and I figured, these writers can’t be THAT stupid? The director can’t be THAT idiotic, lame, and boring? That would just embarrass Disney, not to mention all the well respected actors that are in this!

So I thought hard. I thought hard and I thought long. Like hella long. And I tallied up all the plot inconsistencies, all the weird explanations, all the very specific lines in songs, and I did it. I fixed descendants rise of red! I FIGURED IT OUT!

So!! Here it is! What TRULY happened that crowncoming night! And what going back in time actually did!

(I intentionally put a keep reading so if anyone wanted to avoid spoilers they can)

So! Now that we’re under the keep reading. Anything spoilerly can be said!

So first things first. The biggest theory everyone is saying.

ELLA DID IN FACT POISON BRIDGET!

Yes! I said it! We all thought the movie was leading to this! So it was underwhelming when it was revealed it was Uliana and her crew were the origins behind the prank.

OR WERE THEY?

We all saw that once they opened the book; they were frozen. Because they were ‘bad’ and Merlin’s security system was set into place.

And many of you came up with the giant plot hole that this would have happened REGARDLESS of whether Red and Chloe interfered.

AND YOUR RIGHT!

This sole reason, is why the group COULDNT have done it! Not only were they frozen, but they couldn’t read the recipe, and were properly sent to detention, ergo exonerating them from being at the dance! Meaning their was literally no way they could have been behind the prank!

So with them being withheld from the dance, who could it be? Who was the one person who was originally at the dance, but now no longer could be? What was the one actual change that Red and Chloe set off?

ELLA. AND THE VASE!

We all see that when the two go into Ella’s house, Chloe knocks over a Vase. Breaking it. Lady Tremaine GROUNDS Ella! Meaning that she COULD NOT go to the dance!

This DIDNT happen originally! Meaning Ella DID go to the dance in the original timeline! Which is proven when Cinderella (I’m calling Adult Ella, Cinderella) talks to The Red Queen (I’m calling Adult Bridget The Red Queen) about how the prank being pulled was wrong. She had first handed knowledge of the prank. AND she told Chloe she fell in love with Charming at the dance.

But! Since Ella is the only difference in the two timelines in regarding to the dance, this is PROOF that she was the one who actually pranked Bridget, NOT Uliana and her crew!

So here’s what I think happened!

Ella, who saw Bridget being bullied about the cupcakes, and saw Uliana take all the cupcakes. And promptly being threatened by Uliana. Decided to bake Bridget something to cheer her up. However Bridget literally has all of the cookbooks in auradon. As shown. So she snoops around and finds Merlin’s cookbook! (Because it’s also shown she’s okay with breaking the rules if it’s for a good cause. From her get our hands dirty song!) and double and, the book WOULD open for her because she is a good person. AND she was doing it for a good reason!

she flips through the book and finds some simple blase recipe that cheers Bridget up. Maybe gives her cool hair (Red hair??). Something simple but sweet.

However. While doing this, she happens to see the Monster food recipe. She doesn’t look at it for long of course. Just enough to remember it’s a thing.

BACK TO BRIDGET!

Now! I swear to whatever’s out there that the person who played Chloe said there was a queer character in Dedcendants 4. I can’t find it now but it was some tumblr or insta post. I know cause I immediately told my friend afterwards.

Anywho. I think Bridget is the queer character! We see in the movie her only friend was Ella. Not only that but she YEARNS for someone to care about enough to ask her out (in a romantic way like charming just tried to do for Ella) Ella, who again. Is Bridget’s only friend. And ergo, shows her love no one else does, IMMEDIATELY asks her to go to the dance with her! (Might have said as friends in the other timeline too. Who knows)

But! This only makes Bridget’s crush on Ella even BIGGER. And she falls in love with her! She probably thinks they might have a chance!

This is also somewhat proven by The Red Queens song ‘Love Ain’t It’

Title ; Love Ain’t It

Red : “With all the Grief you’ve experienced”

Red (Speaking of Cinderella) : So you Knew her?

The Red Queen : I saw through her. Cinderella and I were classmates in a way.

(Notice how she uses Ella’s mocking name after she has time to recover from the interaction. She said ELLA originally when she caught her off guard. Also. The line. I SAW THROUGH HER. It’s a double edged sword. Saw through her fronts. Saw the hurting girl inside. Saw through her LIES saw the mean girl behind)

Proven by the next lines

The red Queen : I spent way to much time in this place

So I had to escape

the people might smile

but their two faced, too fake.

Girl was relentlessly bullied and betrayed by someone she loved

And Ella Knows it.

Cinderella : Some people act mean at first, because their too afraid to feel

[the reverse is also true]

Cinderella : Look hon. Back in high school, a mean prank was played

And ever since that fateful day

She was never the same, it’s quite a shame.

So the Red Queen sings a whole song about how Love isn’t it. And we ALL KNOW that her only connection to love as a kid was through ELLA. meaning Bridget HAD A CRUSH on Ella. Was IN LOVE. With Ella.

So. How did Crowncoming originally happen you ask?

Here’s my theory

Ella and Bridget go to the dance. They are happy! They have fun. Bridget falls further in love with Ella. Meanwhile. Ella falls in love with Charming!

Her and Charming hit it off. And Ella starts to feel loved and appreciated for the first time in her life.

Then, Bridget performs her ‘Shuffle of Love’ dance. All the attention is on her! Even Charmings.

Ella feels robbed. She feels jealous. She feels angry that her friend is stealing the one good moment she is finally having to herself.

And so she briefly remembers the spell. And in a moment of error, she either A. Remembers the recipe already and makes the recipe. Or B. Re-Sneaks back into the office to see it. However I’m going with A because the book wouldn’t have opened again for Ella because of her bad intentions.

Whichever way. Bridget eats the baked treat. (I think it was a cupcake. Ella could have lied and said it was from the earlier batch)

And then. IT HAPPENS! Bridget is turned into an ugly terrifying monster. Everyone LAUGHS at her. Everyone makes fun of her

And Bridget, who is confused, understands only ONE person could have done this to her. She looks at someone she was in love with. And just sees Ella and Charming laughing. Laughing at her. Bonding over laughing at HER.

Bridget runs off. In tears. Broken inside. With an equally broken heart.

Maybe if Ella had immediately realized her error and run after her she would have turned out differently. But no. It is proven that Ella stayed at the dance and stayed with Charming. They wouldn’t have had the chance to fall in love if she left.

So Bridget. Spends the rest of the night terrified. Looking like a monster. And being laughed and screamed and made fun of everywhere she goes. And not only that. But her ONLY FRIEND. Her CRUSH. Someone she TRUSTED did this to her

Now THIS! THIS is something can break a person. This is something that can change their views on the world. On humanity itself. She was a kind girl. Was kind to everyone no matter how meanly they treated her. But through it all, Ella was her rock. Her friend. Her secret love. Someone who was good and kind through it all.

But she betrayed her. Tbe one nice person betrayed her. Showing that being nice doesn’t do it. Being nice does not mean good things happen. Being nice doesn’t is worthless if this is what it gets you. Everyone is two faced. And the only thing that’s real. The only thing she CAN feel. Is hurt. And pain. And fear. And so that’s what she swears to become. That’s what she swears to do. Be mean and cruel and heartless so she never has to feel all this pain ever again. So her eventual DAUGHTER never has to feel this again. It’s better to be alone and feared. Then alone and broken.

Ella probably realized the error of her ways the next day. But as she said. It was too late. Bridget was never the same.

This Explains why they had so many odd interactions. The raw feral burning chemistry between them. All the odd phrase. Why The Red Queen would be okay sending her BEST FRIEND to death. Why she would be okay killing her. And taking over auradon. To Her? Cinderella is the one who made her this way.

but also part of her still remembers. Still cares. It’s why she gave her once chance to kneel to her. (And as we’ve noted in the books and movies. She doesn’t give ANYONE else a second chance. She punishes I’m immediately and harshly)

And so! With all of this happening. Theirs gonna be some catylist in recent times. The Red Queen might be nice now. But something will have changed. Ella never went to the dance. (She clearly fell in love with charming somewhere else cause otherwise Chloe would have disappeared) but something happened when she wasn’t at the dance. Something that caused another problem. And THATS gonna be the sequel to this movie. Descendants : Rise of Red part two.

(as we’ve seen the official script for the movie is literally called Descendants : Rise of Red part one. MEANING they wrote it with the purpose of being part one to either a sequel or a threequal)

And THAT! Ladies and Gentleman, is what I think the REAL plot behind Descendants : Rise of Red is! A movie that is not idiotically not thought out at all, but really something so secretly genuis is blows your mind!

Hope you enjoyed!

[captainmera]

Just want to say I’m a fan of your modern au! You put a lot of thought into this, I really enjoy just reading your ideas out. It paints such a very detailed picture l on what you have in mind. It’s very intriguing and I can vividly imagine scenarios that can occur just based your ideation and I think that’s super cool.

The Philip’s estranged father plot line would destroy me. I really like that idea due to how that can cause an even bigger rift between them, a nice twist on the betrayal. Very new and clever, can see Caleb leaving Philip to his dad at one point. Or Philip leaving Caleb for his dad.

Anyways I’m so so sorry this was super long, I just have one question and that’s how was Caleb like in his drivers test? As someone has severe driving anxiety and kept postponing my own test. I can only imagine what it was like for this mf.

Anyways thanks again for this au I’m sorry my reply is long and little cringe but I just love your stuff. I hope everything is going well for you!

Thank you very much! I like crafting these things together! :D Stories are my favourite thing. I like writing character driven stories, so perhaps that's why I dabble in writing characters that are incredibly flawed and, as someone else put it, painfully human.

And don't be sorry! I don't mind lengthy asks! :D

I think for his driver's test, he just told himself what his friend Happy told him: You can be terrified, and do it anyway.

Which helped, in a way. Caleb pushes through a lot of his fears to do something for Philip. It's important he knows how to drive, in case something happens and they need to go to the hospital. Or if they're buying something big that needs to be picked up. Usually, Caleb will literally rather take his bike when going grocery shopping than the car. Or he'll carry groceries in his backpack as he walks from work. So he's quite fit and spry. Anything to not have to sit in that devil machinery. But when he does drive, it's very nerve-wrecking and he takes a lot of preparations in advance to manage the ride. He's also a painfully careful rider. Keeps the "baby in car" bumper sticker, as well as a "drive safe for Jesus" one. He... He's really cautious.

I agree! The Philip's-father plotline will be deliciously painful and emotionally traumatic. :] <3

Madds buckley - Driver's seat <- Song I keep listening to for this AU, lol.

I actually wrote TWO SHORT DRABBLES for this but TUMBLR didn't like it so it's >:l scrapped. Hmph.

[carmyberzattosjournal]

Entry 17: A Man Possessed

GIF credit: @maikswen

Bearblr Promptober Day 17: Dumbification (Sub: Clueless)

Summary: Carmy has girlfriend (who he calls Darling) brainworms again, and he's even more of a disaster this time. (Or: the time Carmy had to leave work to go rail his girl)

Warnings: Smut, swearing, p in v sex, unprotected sex (she has an IUD but Carmy's not writing that in his journal), Dom/Sub dynamic, calling Carmy "sir", hair pulling, obsessed thoughts, mild spiraling, fem reader/rando lass who is a trauma surgeon, she/her pronouns.

Notes: All journal entries will be titled as such and tagged with #cb journal.

Thank you for reading. Thank you to @carmenberzattosgf for putting together this prompt list.

If you want to keep following this set of works, you can follow the #cb journal tag.

Sideblog for commentary and yapping: @m-z-shoroi

This is is a two-parter. The first part is here.

Also, if random letters or words are black/white instead of the colors they should be, that's Tumblr being dumb, I've been fighting it for days.

17 Oct 2024

I handled the second incident of Darling invading my brain much worse than the first.

I couldn’t fucking focus for five fucking minutes on anything. I was pissed off at life two minutes after opening, worse so when the place looked a fucking mess from the night before. Assholes couldn’t even clean up after themselves. I don’t even know how many times I lost track of what I was doing or why because my mind went to Darling instead of staying at The Bear. Here she was, burying her face in my t-shirt again, letting out that delicious sigh, the curve of her hip still visible under the blankets, and I wanted so badly to just grab her. To squeeze her flesh in my hands, dig my fingers into the round of her ass, to drown in her soft skin and her wet kisses to my throat. I wanted to bite her. I didn’t even know what to do with that—I just wanted to sink my teeth into the inside of her thigh before soothing her by putting my mouth to use elsewhere. Why? For what purpose? How does that make sense?

Syd must’ve noticed that I was off because she started helping with cleaning—didn’t even try to talk to me. I hate that, by the way; hate when I’m so far away that people don’t even find words worth giving me. I might not talk much, but if people don’t talk to me, I start feeling like a bug on the window; tiny, inconvenient, gross, unwanted, easily forgotten until I make an irritating sound.

I had to step out in the middle of cleaning—I hadn’t even gotten to prep yet, that’s how bad it was—and I found myself dragging my hand over the side of my neck and my throat. My heart throbbed with such violence that I wanted it to escape so I’d stop being harassed by it. My hands trembled, breaths got erratic. I heard her voice again, telling me to breathe, to find sounds around me, but it came through as static. The apple leaf adagio, the skittering of dried maple leaves, her body fits so perfectly in my hands, strawberry lip balm, what’s not to love? Fuck, that feels good, Carmy. More of that, pretty boy.

Pretty boy.

Please call me pretty boy again, I’m begging you.

I struggled to make it through the rest of prep. I’m fairly sure Sydney figured out I was that same sort of fucked up again because she didn’t wait for me to fuck up a count or fail to give directions before taking over the reigns of the kitchen. I turned into a line cook, just mindlessly doing what was asked of me because it’s what I knew I could do without making a worse mess, and she had the rest under control.

Syd always had it under control; I was the one out of control.

Once again, near dinner service, just when I thought I’d be fine, I cracked under the pressure. I had stepped out to get a break from the relentless heat of the kitchen, try to get some air that wasn’t saturated with the aromas of food (it sounds nice, but trust me, when you’re hour 10 into inhaling sautéed onions, confit garlic, vinegar, cumin, black pepper, olive oil, it gets so deep into your lungs that you feel like you might cough up a prime rib steak). The snap of cold air on my face shattered the dam keeping any assertion of reality in check, and I was inundated with this… how do I even describe it? It wasn’t quite rage, but it wasn’t far from it. Like I needed Darling. I needed her so badly that if I didn’t have her, I was going to break something.

Possessed? Was I a man possessed?

I had this crawling sensation, yeah? Not quite like ants on my skin; the feeling was bigger, coarser. It started in my back, spread to my shoulders, blazed down my arms, into my hands. I clenched and relaxed my fists, trying to ward it off, but when that did nothing—and it did precisely nothing—I rubbed hard over my arms, dug my short fingernails into my skin in some faint approximation of what Darling’s nails felt like. When I thought about doing it again, even harder, hard enough to draw blood if I had to, I knew I was fucked.

I bailed on the kitchen staff again, but something tells me they would’ve hated me being there anyway.

“Sweetheart? You’re home early, what’s going on?”

She’s on the couch fiddling with yarn—I think it’s crochet? Or is it knitting? I don’t know the difference—and has the 2005 Pride and Prejudice on in the background at a low volume. I don’t even know if she can hear it with how quiet it is. I throw off my jacket, and that’s enough for her to figure out something is wrong. She puts the yarn thing on the arm of the couch and unfolds her legs to get up, but I can’t, okay, I cannot.

“No, you stay there.” I’m sorry, did I just tell her what to do? Who the fuck am I?

She froze and leveled a look at me that I can only describe as a deer in headlights. Entirely confused. Clueless. Maybe even scared.

“Are you okay, sweetheart?” It’s tiny. High in her throat.

She follows my face with those big eyes as I approach. It’s weird that it didn’t bother me then. It bothers me now, thinking about it, that she was probably confused as all hell and I should’ve stopped to talk to her, but clearly, I was on one. Or something. That crawling sensation was worse, and overwhelmed by the need, the sheer fucking need to taste her. Taste that strawberry lip balm, lap at her tongue, to occupy my mouth with soft, warm wetness. Fuck me, she was wearing my t-shirt, too.

She squeaked in surprise when I crashed our lips together. Immediately shot her hand to my forearm when one of mine blanketed over her throat. The other seized a fistful of her hair, and she grabbed at my wrist. Probably startled. It bothers me that I didn’t care at the time.

“Open,” I growled.

She obeyed immediately, relented control to let me explore her mouth, and wove her hands into my hair. Fucking hell, I needed that. I was starved of her, plagued with memories of her taste for 10 entire fucking hours—fuck I needed her, all of her, I needed her hands under my skin, goddammit. I pushed her down onto the couch, wrenched her knees apart, and settled between them. She tugged my hair in surprise and then coiled her legs around me.

“Pull harder.”

“Harder? Carmy—”

I used my grip on her hair to tip her head back and aim a glare at her. “I said pull. Fucking. Harder.”

She whimpered and did what I asked. My eyes drifted shut against my will at the tension on my hair—not painful, a sort of raw pleasurable that only pain could seem to bring in that moment. It was too fucking warm. It was boiling again. Why is it always so fucking warm? It was almost as if she could hear my thoughts because she yanked my shirt up and off. I went right back to attacking her with kisses. She hooked a leg high up on my waist and tightened it—have I mentioned how fucking strong she is? College soccer player. She’s really fucking strong.—and it was enough to trigger the ache in my back and force me to pause for a moment with my lips at her neck.

“Carmy,” she gasped, “tell me where your head is, sweetheart.”

Her sounding breathless shouldn’t’ve made me feel powerful.

I yanked off her shirt. May have torn a hook off her bra when I wrested it off her. Whatever, I’d buy her a new one.

“Carmy, I need you to talk—” I cut her off with more fervent kisses. She patted my chest, squeezed her legs again. “Hey, pretty boy.”

That got me to freeze and meet her gaze. She rubbed small circles over my chest.

“Hi… hi, sweetheart.”

“Couldn’t—” Fuck me, I could barely think. “Couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

Her confusion was replaced with a wide-eyed expression.

I ducked down to continue that hickey on her neck. I needed to leave some kind of mark on her. What the hell was going on with me? She trailed a hand down my abdomen and rested it on the bulge in my pants. Took her about two heartbeats to start fumbling with my fly. This wave of cool relief washed over me—don’t know what or why it was about—but it was brief, just a momentary breather in the flames of arousal consuming me. She got me free of my pants and underwear, kissed my temple.

“That better, hm?” Was she really trying to soothe me right now?

Did she not see the animal trying not to devour her?

It occurs to me now that I might’ve genuinely scarred her when I stared her down in response. She froze, searched my face, darted her gaze between my mouth and my eyes repeatedly. Had shaky, jerky movements when trying to shove off her sweatpants. It was odd that she wasn’t speaking. She tends to talk. Her voice is pretty soothing, honestly. At first, something of a regular check in and reassurance for me to know that I wasn’t fucking up, but now a familiar, comfortable, soothing riff in the soundtrack of our lives together. Of course, at the time, I didn’t register any of this because I just needed to be inside her already.

She tensed up when I hiked her leg up my side. Babbled frantically into my mouth, “C-Carmy? Carmy, be gentle. Please be gentle—oh fuck!”

How gentle do you think a wild animal can be, baby girl?

She was unimaginably tight but also impossibly wet. My head spun and it took every last frayed fiber of wherewithal to not immediately sink into her cunt as deep as I could. Forget thinking straight, forget thinking about anything other than the tight, wet heat enveloping my dick. I was pussy drunk already, and I just barely got started.

She dug her nails into my back, had one hand on my abdomen digging into my muscle. “Baby! Baby, please, slow down… fuck, that’s so good, but please—”

“You can take it,” I snarled into her ear.

She took a second, but then withdrew the hand pushing on me and busied it with my hair instead. Mumbled a small, “Y-yes, sir.”

Sir?

She moaned something of a pitiful sound when I got to work. Whatever that version of me was, it wasn’t gentle, but she didn’t seem to care. She hiked her leg up higher when I hit her deep, begged for more, clung to me tighter when I sunk my teeth into her shoulder and did just that, mumbled praises in my ear as I relentlessly fucked her through her orgasm. Good boy; that’s it, you’re making me feel so good; fuck, baby, I’m so full; I can take more, keep going. It crossed the rat’s nest of busted wires in my brain further. All I can remember is this raw, unfiltered, white-hot pleasure burning a chasm into my core, this tension winding so tight I couldn’t get enough air in. Braided steel cable creaking under a construction load? How do I describe this? Tightening rubber band? No.

Sinew tensioning as a dull knife dug into it. That’s an apt descriptor. Like with the ice cubes in the kitchen that first time. Only all-consuming, raw, visceral, centered on her—her scent, her heat, her strained breaths, her wetness, her taste. 

I hid my face in the crook of her neck when I was right on the edge.

Her lips brushed my ear. Her voice was strained but still the same kind of soothing to my soul. “Come on, sweetheart. Let go… Cum, pretty boy…”

I clutched her like a drowning man when my orgasm finally hit me. It knocked the air out of my lungs, killed a scream in my throat, set off a thrumming sound in my ears, first bathed me in flames and then abruptly flooded ice water through my veins. My abdomen screamed from how violently it spasmed, the muscles in my back seized up. Everything stopped. Everything—never in my life had my entire existence been so blank, so empty, so quiet, so at peace. I might even have blacked out for a bit (or my memory is just as shit as it’s always been) because the next thing I remember is slow, gentle caresses over my face, neck, chest, shoulder, then back up to my face to repeat the circuit. Her lips pressed to my hairline at intervals. My eyelashes brushed her neck while I tried to blink the cobwebs away.

“You with me, sweetheart?”

Nope. Not even close. I don’t even know what planet I’m on right now.

She smoothed my sweaty hair back off my face. Planted another kiss to my temple. “That’s okay. You’re safe. Take your time.”

This is going too well, right? She’s too perfect. God’s a sadist; that other shoe is going to return from orbit, and because I am willing to give my whole being to this woman, it will kill me. This love will kill me.

[bookishmeow]

Grey Wardens and Ghilan'nain

Welcome to my Ted Talk. I don't tend to make these posts on tumblr but I do overload my friends on discord a lot so I thought I'd give it a whirl here. I'm going to be talking about some spoilers from Tevinter Nights here and the new trailer.

So I was re-reading Tevinter Nights again after we got all these big reveals from the trailers and I got to Horrors of Hormak. It made me do the thinkings.

I wanna touch on this imagery just cause I love it. It looks as if Ghilan'nain's tentacles are choking out a stone griffin. Griffin's being the symbol of the Grey Wardens.

In Horrors of Hormak in Tevinter Nights, we have Grey Wardens who stumble upon what we believe is Ghilan'nain's eldritch horror pits. It shows darkspawn just walking right in and getting mutated. The implication that they're being controlled ala the calling sets up some interesting things for grey warden specifically.

Maybe that's what's going down in Weisshaupt.

Because the Grey Wardens have battled darkspawn forever, they're kinda pros at it. Weisshaupt is supposed to be their fortress, their hub of awesomeness, but something (that we know) is going wrong there. Couldn't just be darkspawn, they know how to handle darkspawn.

Couldn't just be red lyrium darkspawn right? Cause at this point it's been 10 years since the situation at Adamant Fortress. They should be somewhat aware and knowing how to fight that. They had Lord Commander Clarel mucking that up. They likely are super wary of letting that happen again. It is likely that they have done things to keep the Red Lyrium stuff in check, you'd think.

So if it isn't normal darkspawn, and it aint red lyrium tainted darkspawn(i mean it still could be), It really could be what was set up in Tevinter Nights.

Which goes with Davrin being a "monster hunter". It's just perfect.

Davrin who looks like he gets a bit of an upgrade at some point. His armor is pretty gilded out. Interesting imagery like the shoulder looking like a helmet we've seen before. Then we had a few scenes in the trailer that looked like Grey Warden. We had a scene with an impaled Ghilan'nain before Elgar'nan dabs in with them in the background.

I did the zooming and it looks like two griffins. These are Grey Warden attacking Ghilly. Later in the trailer and with Taash, similar geared out soldiers are seen.

Then, of course, you have Solas himself who does not care for the Grey Warden.

He really doesn't care for the Grey Wardens and we always have been squinting our eyes at him with knowing he is one of the Evanuris. Like, why you so mad bro?

In Tevinter Nights we had two reactions to these pit things of horror. We have the recruit who wouldn't have done the joining yet and then we have the wardens who have. When they went in, things didn't go the way they should have. The recruit just went mad but wasn't changed? Still had a bunch of grey brine water inside them, though. Not entirely sure what was happening there. But the warden who was twisted stated things weren't going right with the wardens on their transformation and they had to consume the grey brine, rather than walking into it like the darkspawn. Then they were fighting for control when transformed. So something is wrong with the grey wardens in general straddling the line between the blight and humanity/elfanity/dwarfanity (lol) [Side note, we had this in the behind the scenes video from 2020. This is totally one of her monsters, isn't it?]

I think Solas doesn't like this either. I think he knows what the blight is or where it's from and he sees the grey wardens as abominations or something of the sort. Then you add on the theory of the "old gods" being connected to the evanuris and they're outright killing those pieces of the evanuris with the archdemons. It could also be weakening the jail he put in place when they do this. He is probably unsettled by the whole thing, but he can't really do anything about it considering the whole darkspawn/blight situation in thedas when he does wake up. I'm pretty confident in saying that Ghilan'nain's plot and the grey wardens specifically go hand in hand. It'll be the first half of the game. Thank you for coming to my talk, we will see if i'm right in the end of October haha.

[t-lostinworlds]

Warm Winter & Fiery Frost [1] | Bucky Barnes

》 PAIRING: bucky barnes x ex-HYDRA assassin!female!reader

》 TROPE/GENRE: grumpy x grumpy, enemies to lovers-ish, slow burn-ish, angst, fluff-ish

》 SUMMARY: They say opposites attract. You and Bucky were so alike—He was called The Winter Soldier and you were called Frost, for fucks sake—that it's probably the reason why you hated each other. Or was it the denying of powerful feelings in fear of getting hurt? You know, like how the cliché goes. Because you know what they also say: There's a fine line between love and hate.

》 WARNINGS: read full warnings here

》 WORD COUNT: 12.6k+

A/N: so, i decided to divide the fic into two just to give you guys the option to read it here as well since i feel like a lot of ppl are more comfortable with just reading it on tumblr sksksks but you also still do have the option to read it on AO3 if you want. will be posting part 2 tomorrow around the same time. it will be linked at the end. i hope you enjoy!

📘 READ ON AO3 | ★ FIC MASTERPOST

📍 BLOG NAVIGATION ✩ B. BARNES MASTERLIST ✩ MAIN MASTERLIST ✩

⊱ ─────.⋅♚ *｡･ﾟ.★. *｡･ﾟ✫*.

Some said first impressions have a lasting impact, that it might even be a crucial pillar of any relationship. Others would vouch that it could be a bit misleading, that everybody deserves a second chance, that getting to know someone on a deeper level was far more important. After all, people were good at pretending, wearing masks for different occasions, putting on a façade depending on who they were standing in front of.

Bucky's first impression of you was that you were downright rude.

You definitely were not the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen, a confident aura surrounding your graceful form as you entered the conference room. You definitely didn't capture his attention easily, didn't make his heart skip a couple of beats when he briefly caught your piercing gaze, eyes a beautiful shade that he wanted to look closer to see if there were any variations or they were as perfect and pure in color at first glance. You didn't make his breath nervously hitch when your head tilted ever so slightly, almost scrutinizingly as you studied him with your pretty lips pursed.

He definitely didn't linger there for a second or two, either.

Nope.

All he could think about was how cold and arrogant you seemed to be, head held high as Steve introduced you to the team one by one, settling for formal handshakes and a barely-there smile.

Bucky definitely was not thinking about how you were able to keep your features impassive yet stay so gorgeous in his eyes. He definitely wasn't intrigued about the slight gray of cautiousness tinting your irises, definitely not curious to know more of your quiet and reserved nature. He wasn'tat all itching to peel back your layers with such tenderness and care, to know more about you—light, darkness and demons alike.

Who knew lying to yourself could be so easy?

"And this is Bucky Barnes," Steve said, patting his shoulder, smiling excitedly for some reason he knew nothing of. "You know, the one I kept telling you about."

Bucky glared at his best friend curiously before turning to you, keeping a straight face as he held his hand out.

"I read your file."

That was Bucky's first words to you.

A second after they left his mouth, his stomach churned as he watched your face harden, lips pressed tightly into a thin line. You glanced at his outstretched hand, pointedly ignoring it as you crossed your arms over your chest. Chin up, you looked at him dead straight in the eyes, a certain fire flickering over yours, a brow raised in challenge.

You didn't say a word.

Bucky only got a curt nod before you turned back to Steve.

"My room?" you asked the blonde, features softening.

"Come on," Natasha interjected, nodding towards the door.

Bucky felt a sudden surge of jealousy at the cordial way you regarded the two. He felt envious when you returned Nat's grin with a small smile of your own as you followed her lead. It was faint enough to not be noticeable if you weren't particularly observant but definitely better than the scowl you wore when looking at him.

He ignored the way the redhead shot him a look over her shoulder as she guided you out of the conference room.

It was safe to say that as far as first impressions went, both of yours definitely weren't the best.

"What?" Bucky sighed when he caught the way his best friend was looking at him.

"Really?" Steve scolded, hands on his hips. "'I read your file' is not a conversation starter, Buck."

Fine. Maybe that wasn't the best—nor appropriate—thing to say to you first. But it was exactly because of that file that he was wary of you.

You were a spy, an assassin, trained in the Red Room only to get traded to HYDRA after some negotiations. They probably saw your potential—took you under their wing before you could even graduate so you didn't class as one of the Black Widows. Still, that didn't mean you didn't have the abilities of one, especially when you started young like most did. Now, adding the brutality and mercilessness HYDRA taught their killing machines?

You were one deadly mix.

The file said you were enhanced in some way. It didn't have the specifics as to what but it did state what wasn't. No superpowers, nothing magic-related, not even a case of superhuman abilities. But since these were organizations known for their hunger to experiment and enhance individuals, he had an inkling that you weren't just human, either.

Bucky didn't understand what level of consciousness you were in when you were doing their bidding. All he knew was that newer technology was involved, something to do with a microchip embedded on the back of your neck, connected right into your brain stem that any attempt at removing it carelessly would lead to your death.

He didn't know the extent of what that chip could do, didn't know if it was roughly the same as his programming where his mind was wiped and then controlled. It was possibly different yet similar—two sides of the same coin.

That part of the file was redacted, and Steve was adamant about staying quiet with that side of your story when asked. It was understandable, he supposed. It was nobody's place to tell but yours.

But judging from those alone, Bucky could guess it wasn't a lovely walk through the fields.

You were free from that now—thanks to Shuri, of course—but you could never be too cautious.

Just because Natasha saw you as a long lost sister, or how Steve was quick to trust you enough to escort you to Wakanda himself, and for both to vouch for you to join the team, didn't mean Bucky had to follow in their footsteps of plain blind faith.

It definitely had nothing to do with how nervous he suddenly got when you were standing right in front of him, or the way his heart picked up the pace when you were in the vicinity, let alone, glanced his way.

But with all the lies he'd been keen on feeding himself, Bucky had to admit, you were mesmerizingly and gorgeously terrifying.

There was just something about the way you carry yourself that even as simple as you walking down the hallway had everyone parting out of your way like the Red Sea.

Your reputation preceded you—Frost, a name most people feared to cross, belonging to a list of the most feared assassins who were still alive, of those who roamed free.

Whether that was second, equal, or better than The Winter Soldier…well, it depended on who you asked.

It somehow conjured this unspoken competition throughout the entire facility.

Who was more menacing?

Who was more skilled in hand-to-hand combat?

Who had the best death glare?

Who wielded the knife better?

Who had the better murder strut?

Who was the better assassin?

Who would win in a staring contest?

Who was grumpier, colder, the deadlier killer—The Winter or Frost?

Even the core Avengers team was silently in on it. The bets were mundane but they were there. An extra pizza slice, a dollar or two, who gets to go on the next coffee run, who gets to do whose laundry—they were thoroughly entertained by it.

Even Sam commented how you made Bucky's glare look like puppy eyes.

He honestly felt a little offended.

Probably because the truth sucked since, hell, even Bucky felt intimidated by you—in more ways than one.

Nobody intimidated him, not until you.

Bucky hated it.

If you asked his ego and pride, they'd tell you it was because the comparisons were insulting. He was the best in his field, he had decades of experience under his belt—he was a goddamn super soldier for crying out loud. A newbie, someone who didn't even reach half of what he'd been through, wasn't going to be better than him, even with similar skill sets.

But deep down, he knew it was something else entirely.

If he were to truthfully answer those questions that circled the compound, he would be biased, subjective, completely and utterly infatuated because his answer was you.

In Bucky's rose-tinted eyes, you win anything because he would wholeheartedly give you everything.

That was another thing he was entirely terrified and intimidated by.

Never had he ever felt this strong pull before, an intrigue and need to be closer to someone, let alone someone he just met. It was new territory, something unfamiliar, especially in the last couple of decades.

Bucky hated not being able to understand what he was feeling, hated not being in control of the way his thoughts sprinted in all directions, fast and unrelenting to match the beating of his heart. He hated the way you made him feel a plethora of overwhelming yet warm emotions all from a simple look, a complicated concoction of admiration, fear, infatuation, lust and everything in between.

He hated the way you threw his whole world off its axis when he'd been doing good so far at gradually understanding his mind, his heart, his whole self.

Now, he was confused, terrified, captivated by you in so little time and he hated it.

And like Pavlov's dog and the Theory of Classical Conditioning—

Bucky hated you.

•••

As it turned out, you hated him too.

You weren't verbal about it for the first few months you lived in the compound. But then again, you had been keeping to yourself most of the time.

People barely saw you roaming around. You didn't sit with the team during meals, you even skipped over movie nights or any other 'team-bonding' exercise the rest came up with. The only other person who saw you more frequently than most was Natasha. But given that you two were floormates, that was to be expected.

Bucky would sometimes catch a glimpse of you in the gym during the early hours, dancing around punching bags like a graceful ballerina but with a forceful punch and kick that would rival the best and the greats—ruthless just like how you were trained to be.

It was the same time he usually went down, hoping to let off steam when he couldn't shake a particular nightmare. But when you got there first, he opted to go for an early run outside instead, giving you the space to yourself.

He had a feeling you needed it more.

Other than that, you were like a ghost in the compound. There was no physical evidence or any lingering traces of you in the common spaces.

But if and when you were around, your presence alone was palpable—quietly minding your business in a corner, but everyone was aware that you were there. It was that commanding and powerful aura you exuded.

It definitely reminded him of how a certain someone acted when he first got into the compound.

So he didn't take your indifference, borderline coldness to heart at the start since you weren't overly friendly to everyone.

But as weeks turned to months and the atmosphere around you began to shift, the contrast between your attitudes suddenly became more apparent.

There was a difference between how you acted around the team and how you behaved around him.

Bucky was quick to realize that you were definitely colder and much more judgemental when it came to him.

From your deathly glares during meetings, pointed eye rolls with each question he asked about letting you join on missions, audible enough scoffs to every comment he made, to completely turning away from him with a disapproving shake of your head, cursing him out in Russian under your breath as if he wasn't fluent in the language, as if he wouldn't catch you with superhuman hearing.

Your dislike towards him was excessively obvious.

Even more so as you began to acclimate in the compound, feeling more and more comfortable around fellow Avengers as you came out of your hard shell—you were now present during game nights and movie nights, you'd sat in the dining hall with the team during dinners, and willingly joining in when it was time for training. You'd even become fast friends with Wanda and Sam.

You were now a little less menacing towards acquaintances and agents, too. Most were still scared of you, and rightfully so. You always wore that impassive expression that never gave a hint whether you liked the person or not. You barely even smile, at those you didn't know anyway—well, unless you wanted to make a point.

Like that one time you knocked an agent off his feet during a spar, clean and swift when he told you, 'You would look prettier when you smile.' You towered over the heaving man on the floor, eyeing his bleeding nose with a grin, wide and sarcastic.

Other than that, you'd learned to be somewhat cordial—consisting of curt nods, to tight-lipped smiles and less glaring—with everyone else.

Well, everyone except him.

Oh you hated him.

Bucky could feel it searing on his skin just from one simple look, rattling deep in his bones with every scoff of disdain.

As a matter of fact, everyone could feel the simmering tension in the air when you both were in the same room, quietly bubbling like magma under the earth, waiting for that small opening to finally burst into chaos.

It didn't take long for the first shift to happen, a crack between each other's resolve, the slight change between you both.

Bucky couldn't say it was for the better.

After all, going from silent glares and unspoken distaste to petty comments and loud arguments wasn't exactly classified as an improvement.

•••

"I don't trust her, Steve."

"You haven't even given her a chance."

"She's an ex-HYDRA assassin," Bucky pressed, his scowl deepening when his best friend brushed him off. "They can never be trusted."

"Takes one to know one."

Bucky's heart stopped at the sound of your voice, body freezing momentarily once he saw you sat on the kitchen counter, legs kicking aimlessly as you read a book.

You looked innocent—so fucking cute, but he wasn't going to acknowledge that—like you could never do any harm. But he knew better. Which was why he couldn't stop his stomach from churning solely from the fact that you heard what he said.

And without even lifting your eyes from the page, you still were able to get a read on him.

It was frustrating how good you were.

"What?" you scoffed, taking a bite of the plum he was sure was taken from his stash. He was the only one who constantly brought them into the team. Finally looking at him, you raised a brow, pouting at him tauntingly. "Too scared to say it to my face?"

"I don't like people who keep secrets," Bucky huffed, arms crossed over his chest with a sharp glare as he looked you straight in the eye. "It was never mentioned how they found you, and we usually don't pick up strays off the street."

"Buck," Steve warned.

You closed your book with a harsh snap, hopping off the counter swiftly before walking towards him with a blank face. Taking another bite of the plum, you never broke eye contact, the fire in your gaze flickering the second you were standing right in front of him.

Bucky swallowed the lump in his throat, his skin prickling with heat as you pointedly scanned him from head to toe, arms over your chest to mirror his stance, your head tilted in that annoyingly adorable way.

Yet the smallest adoration he held was quickly replaced by pure animosity the moment you opened that pretty little mouth of yours.

"Rich coming from HYDRA's favorite lost and found pet," you said, face calm, voice just as much with a touch of being cold. The only other hint that showed your emotion was the fire that kept growing in those gorgeous eyes. Brow raised, you added, "At least I don't look homeless."

"Watch your fucking mouth," Bucky snarled, taking a challenging step forward, towering over you with fists clenched at his sides.

You pouted, seeming innocent as you hummed, "You know, they say lice make people irritable. You should get that checked."

His vibranium arm whirred, nostrils flaring as a growl rumbled in his chest.

You did nothing but smirk.

Before he could even open his mouth for a rebuttal, Steve was quick to get between you both.

"Alright, knock it off," he sighed, hand firm on Bucky's chest as he shot him a silent warning before turning to you. "There's a quick undercover op in Palermo, Sicily. Nothing more than a quick recon mission. Fly in, attend a party, gather intel, interrogate if necessary, fly out. And I want you two to be partners in it."

"When is this?" you asked, turning to Steve with brows furrowed in curiosity.

"In two days."

"Okay."

Bucky blinked.

He was surprised at how quick you were to agree. He expected you to argue against it, whine and complain about how you didn't want to go with him, list a bunch of things where he wasn't capable enough or just downright say you didn't trust him.

As if reading his mind—or perhaps he really needed to work on his poker face—you shrugged, adding, "It's a job at the end of the day. I can work with anyone and be professional about it."

You definitely did that on purpose to make him look bad.

Fucking kiss-ass.

"Good," Steve said with a smile which you irritatingly returned. "I'll have FRIDAY send you the file."

"Rogers that, Captain," you snorted at your own joke, waving your hand at Bucky before turning on your heel, your voice echoing down the hallway as you called out, "Just make sure he washes his hair! I don't want whatever's living in there to inhabit mine!"

Once you were gone, Bucky let out an exasperated sigh when Steve gave him that I'm-not-angry-just-disappointed look.

Again.

"Are you seriously taking her side?" he griped.

"I'm not taking any sides." Steve shrugged, arms crossed. "But, I mean, you called her unreliable behind her back, basically told her you didn't like her to her face, and then called her a stray which was unnecessary and uncalled for. You were kinda asking for it."

Bucky pinched the bridge of his nose, a few deep breaths before grumbling, "Is there really no one else available for this mission?"

"Well, I'll see if Liam—"

No.

Liam was an arrogant piece of shit agent who stared at you for far too long during training to be considered appropriate. It was obvious enough, how he saw you as a prize to be won, proof of being 'the ultimate alpha male who could tame the lioness.' Those were the exact words Bucky overheard in the gym showers and it took everything in his power not to break a jaw or two.

That idiot would bottle the whole op trying to get your attention. And judging from what Bucky knew about him, it wasn't difficult to assume that he would end up thinking with the wrong head. He'd be more of a burden to you than an actual help.

Bucky was already filled in on what the mission was about, including what you were going to be pretending as. It was one of the many reasons why he was having doubts about you two being partners in this.

After all, for the mission to be a success, you had to sell the cover first. When you both couldn't be in the same room without showing utter disdain, when all of your conversations—the rare moments that you did have one—were more or less an argument, when you didn't even like each other, how on earth would you manage to convince everyone else that you two were happily and lovingly married?

It was impossible.

So you couldn't really blame him for being doubtful.

And no, it had nothing to do with how his whole body tingled with anticipation—and maybe excitement—nor the way his heart stuttered at the thought of being your husband.

But with all that said, he would be caught dead first before he'd allow Liam to take full advantage of it and see this mission as an opportunity rather than something to be taken seriously.

"Liam is incompetent. He'll only slow her down, compromise her and end up blowing their cover. It's obvious he's going to be distracted with all the fancy shit to not do his job at all. Someone's going to get hurt because he's fucking full of himself and—" Bucky stopped when he caught the way the blond was looking at him.

Steve was smirking, proud and all-knowing, wriggling his brows as if he got the exact reaction he wanted.

It was obvious Bucky fell right into his trap.

The consequence of having a best friend who knows you too well.

"I fucking hate you, Rogers," he growled, shoulder-checking Steve as he made his way back to the elevator.

It only made the punk laugh.

"I'll see you at the briefing, buddy!"

•••

Bucky rolled his eyes when he saw the audience waiting on the tarmac two days later.

The whole team was practically present, obviously wanting to see what would happen during your first mission together with him.

It was ridiculous.

They somewhat made this whole thing between you two as a source of entertainment. It was harmless enough since they never really did anything to provoke reactions. It was wholeheartedly both your own doing. But that didn't make it less annoying.

His scowl deepened when Sam took one look at him before bursting out into rambunctious laughter. He also didn't miss the way Nat and Wanda were trying their best to hold back their giggles.

"Looks good on you." Clint nodded, grinning.

"Thanks." He rolled his eyes, instinctively running his fingers through his newly cropped hair.

It was closer to how he used to wear it back in the 40s. The long cut was starting to get in the way, even during simple, everyday errands. It was also to help him look less recognizable for this undercover mission, paired nicely with the flesh camouflage Bruce had temporarily installed on his metal arm.

Other than that, Bucky figured it was time for a change. And what better way to mark a new chapter in his life than by getting a haircut?

It definitely wasn't because a small part of him was craving your approval.

"Oh," Steve said when he reached the tarmac, blinking a few times before smiling. "It looks good, Buck."

"Why is everyone making a big deal out of my haircut?" he grumbled exasperatedly.

"It's not about the haircut," Natasha butted in, the corner of her lips curved up. "It's why you got it."

"I didn't think you'd take what she said seriously," Steve chuckled.

"First of all, I got this haircut because I wanted a haircut. That's it. Second—" Bucky glared at his best friend. "—did you tell everyone about the lice insult?"

"I didn't tell anyone!" he defended, hands in the air. "I swear!"

"He didn't. Frosty was ranting to Nat and Wanda and I just happened to overhear the best parts," Sam snickered. "But God, you need her attention so bad."

"I don't need her attention," he huffed, crossing his arms. "I very much enjoy it if it's elsewhere."

"Whatever you say, Buckaroo."

Speaking of the beauty that was the devil, you walked out of the building with Tony, his hands gesticulating wildly, probably explaining the enhancement on the outfit you were currently wearing.

A newly improved tactical suit.

Bucky cleared his throat as he ran his fingers through his hair, straightening out his gear as he tried not to stare.

But fuck it was hard.

How could he not look when the combination of Kevlar and lycra hugged your body in all the right places? At first glance, it was all black from head to toe, but underneath the light, the color would shift. There was a bluish tinge to it, the straps and belts a deep silver-blue, the combination of colors representing the likes of dark ice and frost. He couldn't see the lower half of your face, your signature mask only showing off those menacing eyes. And show them off they did because not only did the half-mask make you look even more threatening, it also made your eyes even more beautiful. The dark fabric definitely brought more attention to them, a twinkle in your irises especially when the sunlight would hit them just right.

You definitely brought two different meanings to the phrase 'If looks could kill.'

One, your death glare was definitely promising, and two Bucky had never seen someone be so beautiful, so gorgeously deadly that his heart felt like it might take him out.

He didn't realize that he was actively staring until Sam's voice snapped him out of his reverie.

"Damn. You're more pathetic than I thought."

Bucky shot him a glare, landing a very soft punch to his stomach before storming into the Quinjet, quickly settling into the pilot's seat. He was done dealing with the team's antics, and he knew they'd only get rowdier when you're close. 

"Why is everyone here?" you said, and he could almost picture you rolling your eyes. "Why are you guys acting like you're sending your kids to boarding school?"

"Well, with how you and Terminator behave, it's not that different," Tony quipped. You must've glared at him because he was quick to add, "I'm kidding! You two are very mature adults."

"You guys are ridiculous," you snorted, boots hitting metal echoing around the space as you made your way inside.

"Have fun you two!"

"Not too much fun! I want that jet spotless when it gets back!"

"Please don't kill each other on the way!"

"Oh they grow up so fast."

Bucky rolled his eyes, shutting the latch once you finally settled yourself right beside him.

Your reasoning for the choice, he had no idea. You honestly could've picked every other available seat which was plenty. He decided not to dwell on it, stopping his mind from wandering too far into presumptuous thoughts.

But he definitely didn't miss the way you glanced at his hair.

He also didn't miss the way you were trying not to smirk.

"Stop gawking and put your goddamn seatbelt on," he grumbled, starting the jet before shrugging. "Or don't."

"You're so full of yourself," you scoffed, yet did as he said without any more protest.

"You're not as subtle as you think you are."

"M'just glad to know you actually listen to me, much less, take my advice."

"Now, who's full of themselves?" he mocked, rolling his eyes. "My haircut has nothing to do with you."

You were quiet for a moment. But he should've known better. It was something he learned lately, how you always felt the need to have the last word.

"Whatever pacifies your ego, Barnes."

Bucky could only growl in response.

•••

"Can you hurry up!" he called out after glancing at his watch for the fifth time.

He was fully dressed, in a suit and tie this time instead of his tactical gear. He'd already double-checked his weapons twice, a variety of them hidden underneath his jacket for ease of access.

And you still hadn't come out of the bathroom.

Bucky was sitting on one of the lounge chairs by the bed, glaring at the dark wood separating you from him as if it would help you be quicker with whatever it was you were doing in there.

He was about to call out again when the door slammed open, harsh and quick that it bounced off the wall.

Bucky's breath was sucked out of his lungs once he saw you in your long and fitted black dress, the silk fabric complementing your figure, a very high slit exposing your thigh, straps thin on your shoulders they might as well be non-existent and a deep V neckline to match.

He suddenly felt hot when he saw that the dress was unzipped, exposing your back from the nape of your neck all the way down, stopping just above the swell of your—

He blinked out of his haze when you ignored him completely and marched towards the floor-length mirror in the corner of the room. Your scowl was deep, irritation obvious in your demeanor as you looked for something, your back facing the mirror as you glared at your reflection over your shoulder.

"I'm going to kill Natasha for picking this dress," you mumbled under your breath, so obviously talking to yourself but without taking into account his enhanced hearing. "Who puts a zipper this goddamn small you can't even find it."

"Jesus—" Bucky rolled his eyes, standing up from his place and stalking towards you. "Turn around."

Your eyes snapped up to his, glare deadly as you hissed, "I don't need your help—"

"Get over yourself will you?" he scoffed. "We're going to be late."

"Fine," you gritted, turning around abruptly and crossing your arms. "Since you so badly want to make yourself feel useful."

Your quip went in one ear and out the other. Not because he was done with your shit—which he was—but because he was rendered speechless by what he was seeing.

There was a temptation to trace the path from the small of your back up to your spine, to feel your warm and naked skin underneath his fingertips.

But his attention was captured by something else entirely.

His lips curled into a frown as he scanned the nape of your neck. Now that he was closer, he could see the way your delicate skin was littered with scars, ones that weren't his nor was his infliction, but were familiar to him it made his chest ache.

Absentmindedly, his fingers hovered over it, close and featherlight to feel a prickle of electricity, but not enough for it to fully touch. He circled the smallest yet deepest one, right in the middle where he assumed the chip was embedded. His frown deepened as he traced the various jagged lines that started from the center, crawling down like roots and stopping just at the juncture between your neck and shoulder. 

Bucky ignored the goosebumps that rose from your skin, heavily fighting the urge to kiss it.

You cleared your throat, looking at him through your periphery. "What, you've never seen scars before?"

"Those are scratch marks," he stated as a fact, voice coming out rougher than he'd intended to.

Bucky knew because he had similar-looking ones that covered his left shoulder.

Like someone was trying to claw it out of their skin.

"Yeah, well," you grumbled, shifting in your black heels. "It's not like I wanted that chip in me."

Almost instinctively, he leaned closer, lips parted, your body shivering as his breath brushed over your skin. He squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head, hurriedly yet carefully zipping up your dress before walking towards the door.

"I'll wait for you outside," he said before closing it behind him without looking back.

Bucky paced up and down the hall in hopes that it would help shake the absolute rage he felt.

Not at you, but for you.

It was sudden yet burning, the anger in his blood at the simple thought of what those fucking assholes did to you. It didn't help in the slightest that he was so familiar with their methods.

It made him want to burn every person who laid a hand on you alive.

If the world managed to catch fire during that, then so fucking be it.

Bucky didn't know where it came from, the sense of protectiveness over you. It was so strong and unrelenting that it blatantly showed the second you stepped into the ballroom. From the way he'd held you closer by his side, arm secured around your waist as you mingled with guests, to his sharp glare aimed at any man who lingered too close and stared at you far too inappropriately.

He was telling himself it was part of the ruse, to sell this fake marriage to a viable audience so you could get the intel—gathering names that were connected to the Mafia, and when you're attending the birthday party of the Don, it wasn't difficult to do so—that you needed. He was watching your back like how any good partner should during missions. Even though he hated you, he wasn't cruel enough to let you get hurt. You could never know who was harmlessly flirting with you, and who was there with ulterior motives. It was better safe than sorry.

It definitely was not anything personal for him.

Despite everything, the mission went surprisingly well—smoothly even. It was impressive, borderline uncanny, the way you matched each other as if you'd been partners for years instead of this being the first.

It was easy, reading the signal you gave before Bucky made his way toward the elevators. The few moments he left you alone were enough for you to do what was needed, tempt and seduce. It was easy, a slimy yet important capo immediately taking the bait. Not that Bucky could blame him either. Nobody stood a chance when you were the one luring.

And just as the metal doors opened with a soft ding, Bucky stepped aside, letting you and the unsuspecting, inebriated man stumble in, slurring obscenities about 'getting some' as he clung to you, grumbling about 'showing you a better time than your husband.'

Bucky didn't even hide his scowl as he followed, fist slamming harshly on the button of your hotel floor. He wasn't gentle either as he injected the guy with a drug Bruce had concocted, one that made someone drunk to a point that they wouldn't remember what happened the next day while they were under the influence. Something about brain chemicals and whatnot.

Once you reached your shared room, he let you take the reins, sitting in a corner with a glass of whiskey as he watched. He wanted to see just how immersed you got when you were in your element.

And Bucky was impressed.

The way you circled that tied man, unhurried yet calculating, fingers trailing, taunting him, making him shiver in anticipation as to what you'd do next. Your voice was sickly sweet yet never less threatening as you asked questions that even Bucky had a whiplash listening to you talk.

You were like a poisonous wild berry, sweet, alluring, tempting on the outside, but downright deadly if you take a bite.

He also found it extremely hot but he wasn't going to talk about that.

It didn't take long for the man to spew out valuable information. But when he was being particularly difficult in some cases, Bucky stalked closer, shrugging his suit jacket off, rolling up his sleeves, and turning the flesh camouflage off. When the lamp on the bedside reflected on his metal forearm, it was enough to make the captive talk more.

Bucky took the liberty of doing cleanup once you got all the information you needed while you changed out of your dress in the bathroom. You were adamant about not needing his help with the zipper this time. He didn't bother to insist.

He stripped the unconscious man down to his boxers, tucking him to bed to make it seem like a one-night stand and nothing more. It wasn't like the idiot would remember much in the morning, anyway. He also made sure there was no trace of any of you in the room, checking twice to be sure he didn't miss anything.

Once everything was cleared and his bag was packed, you emerged out of the bathroom, now back in your tactical suit. You wordlessly made your way out of the hotel, Bucky right on your tail.

Neither of you spoke a word as you flew back home that same night.

The air was tense in the Quinjet.

And as much as people could argue that it was always like that whenever you and Bucky were in the same room, this time, it felt different.

Bucky couldn't just pinpoint as to why exactly that was.

The only thing he could clearly see was that you were even more guarded than before. Yet as hardened as your face was, your eyes were telling a different story. There was a distant look in them as if you were in a different place right this second.

Even as you got back to the compound and sat in one of the conference rooms for a debrief with Steve, there was still something off about you. You were quieter than usual, only speaking when spoken to. You even rushed to leave the room before Steve could fully wrap things up.

The blonde had shot him a questioning—almost accusing—look, probably also noticing your uncanny behavior. But all Bucky could do was shrug because even he wasn't quite sure as to what was on your mind that undeniably put you off.

Was it the moment in front of the mirror when he'd traced your scar? Or was it everything that transpired in the ballroom?

Having his arm around your waist, pulling you so close to his side he could practically feel your body heat through the layers of his suit, moments where he'd lean down to whisper in your ear, you masking it with a giggle as if the intel was the funniest thing he'd ever told you.

It was without a doubt the closest you two have ever been physically, pretending to be husband and wife, gazing into each other's eyes as if you were in love.

That was quite a lot for people who hated each other.

Or was that just him?

And even though Bucky was tired after the mission, he couldn't get a wink of sleep.

It wasn't from nightmares this time though—well, not his anyway.

Laying in his bed, staring at the random design engrained on the ceiling, Bucky couldn't stop thinking about what horrors you went through while you were under HYDRA's influence.

He wished his imagination was way worse than reality, that his head was making every situation far more gruesome and cruel than it truly was.

But Bucky knew better.

He knew that his imagination couldn't even come close to what truly transpired. And in this line of work, reality was always much worse.

Besides, he did live through it himself.

But knowing you had gone through something similar, somehow, it felt much more…hurtful.

Maybe this was the whole not wishing it on your worst enemies type of thing. Maybe it was an understanding. Maybe it was simply empathy. Maybe it was the culmination of everything mentioned all at once.

Or maybe it was something else entirely.

•••

"I didn't think I'd see the day where someone would actually challenge his staring problem."

"She doesn't look phased, though."

"He's definitely losing."

"I can hear you," Bucky said, loud enough for Sam and Wanda to hear but never taking his eyes off you even for a second.

"Good morning, Frosted Flakes." Sam walked over to you with a pat on the head.

You looked away from Bucky then, swatting Wilson's hand away, nose scrunched adorably with a snort, "What happened to 'Frosty'?"

"Oh no, your nickname is still Frosty," Sam chuckled. "Just sprinkling some spice every once and a while."

Bucky's grip on his mug tightened when he saw you flash Sam a genuine smile.

It's been a week since your mission together and you were back to your usual self—friendly to the team and absolutely loathing him still. As a matter of fact, you'd been acting as if the mission didn't happen at all, fully putting it behind you like a closed case.

Bucky wasn't quite sure if he was relieved or annoyed about it.

Fine.

He was annoyed because how could you be so nonchalant about the whole thing when he hadn't been able to think of anything else since?

It was infuriating seeing you so unaffected while he was still losing sleep, remembering how your warm body felt pressed up against his and the way your breath tickled the skin just below his ear whenever you whispered some information to him.

Then came the thoughts about your scars—what ifs and I hope not's with what happened to you in that facility. His chest would ache every time he closed his eyes and the image of your hurt skin would flash in his mind.

Or he'd find himself blushing like a schoolboy, wondering how things would've played out if he didn't hesitate, if he actually tried kissing it better—

"I never got to know why your alias is Frost," Wanda asked out of genuine curiosity.

"Cold-blooded killer, stone-cold heart, grew up and was trained in a cold climate, pretty basic actually. And, well," you paused, raising a brow his way. "Winter was taken."

"Can never trust someone who still goes by their name as a killer," he scoffed.

The way your whole face turned cold as you looked at him was so impressive it made Bucky's heart sting with longing.

Still, he didn't shy away from your glare.

It was only during these moments that he could shamelessly look into your gorgeous eyes, after all.

"I'm reclaiming it as my own. You give the name they gave you power, they still have control over you. Now, when I take back that power, the only one who has control over me, is me." You crossed your arms over your chest, head tilting as you added, "I think you can learn a thing or two about that, Soldat."

The chair screeched as Bucky stood from his seat, stalking towards you with a low growl. You simply turned to look at him, letting him tower over you with no ounce of fear in your demeanor. His fists clenched, vibranium arm whirring when you dared to smirk at him. 

You raised a brow, chin raised high and cocky, so defiant, so bratty, it makes him want to—

"Case and point," you whispered proudly.

Before Bucky could even come up with a comeback, Steve's voice interrupted,

"Break it off." The captain walked into the room with his shoulders slumped as if he was tired of dealing with the same shit every day.

Bucky almost felt bad for him.

Almost.

"Do you have a radar for when we start fighting?" you snorted.

"Maybe," he said, brow raised at you. "Nat's been waiting for you in the training room."

"I don't need any more training," you grumbled, and with Bucky still standing quite close to you, he could almost see you pouting.

Or maybe he was just imagining it.

"There's no such a thing as too much training," Steve said in that 'captain voice' of his. "Besides, you need to learn how to hold back your punches."

"So, you're saying…" you sighed. "You don't trust me not to kill anyone?"

Bucky has never seen Steve turn bright red so quickly in his life.

"No! That's not—"

You giggled.

Bucky couldn't even begin to describe what his heart did in his chest.

You walked over to the blushing blonde, patting his chest with a bright smile. "Just messing with you, Steve."

He wasn't sure if he was jealous of the casual affection you were able to give to Steve, or the fact that his best friend got along so well with you that you might as well have known each other all your life.

Yet either thought was pushed to the back of his head as he watched you walk away in those goddamn leggings. There was always a certain sway to your hips whenever you moved, a confidence he couldn't help but be captivated by. But those goddamn gray leggings, for reasons he couldn't explain, were somehow accentuating everything that much more. From your hips to your thighs and that ass—

"Get out of my head, Maximoff," Bucky grumbled, cheeks burning when he caught the way the redhead was quietly smirking in the corner. 

"I wasn't even in your head," Wanda laughed, still honoring the promise she made to him to always respect his boundaries when it came to his mind, which he was grateful for. "It's all over your face."

"You look hungry as hell, man," Sam added, grinning. 

"Well, if you want to ogle more," Steve teased, smiling amusedly. "Don't you have your recruits to train?"

Bucky could only flip them off as he walked towards the elevator.

•••

Fists hitting against bags, punches blocked with precision, hisses and groans as bones met muscle, bodies landing on padded floors with low grunts, and the occasional cheers and hollers from the opposite side of where he stood.

There was quite a crowd at the training room—and by room he meant a whole floor—at this time of day. After all, it was mostly everyone's schedule for it.

It was hectic, and for someone with enhanced senses, it can be overstimulating. But Bucky had grown to learn how to focus the amount of input his brain took. Right now, it wasn't on the young boy he was currently sparring with.

Oh no.

It was over at the mats where a crowd had formed. It was like fight night, a challenge born out of pure pride and ego as to who could land even just one blow on the current victor.

You.

From the corner of his eye, Bucky watched you dance around a man who was more or less a foot taller than you. It was graceful, the way you jumped onto his shoulders, your legs wrapping around his neck before you twisted your body, using the momentum to flip the agent onto his back, tightening your thighs around his neck before he rapidly started tapping on the mat.

You barely even broke a sweat.

Bucky swiftly raised his right arm, blocking a high kick from the recruit. It was a valiant effort but it simply wasn't quick enough to surpass his enhanced senses.

"Good thinking to use a moment's distraction to your advantage," he commended, grabbing his ankle and flinging the kid over his shoulder. "But never underestimate your opponent."

He looked around his group, fresh graduates and all looking properly beaten and tired, and not just physically. None of them had ever won a spar with him. But, well, not to sound egotistical, but it was never a fair fight to begin with.

He was a supersoldier for crying out loud.

As their trainer, he could keep going. There were no breaks out there in a real fight. But then again, he has to remember that his blood was fueled differently compared to them.

Besides, his attention was most definitely elsewhere, and he kinda wants to watch a different session instead.

Was he slacking on the job? Maybe.

But hey, let's say he was simply trying not to drain the life out of the newbies.

"Great job today," Bucky said with a curt nod. "We'll continue this tomorrow."

Relief rolled over the group like a wave, and he resisted the urge to chuckle. As they all left one by one, Bucky remained at his station, leisurely sipping on his water as he watched the commotion across him.

"Do I really need to keep doing this?" you sighed at Steve after you pinned down yet another recruit who was definitely a few sizes bigger than you, swift and hard to disorient them but not enough to cause any real damage. Properly learning how to hold back your punches. "Aren't I supposed to be showing what I'm truly capable of?"

"You're getting cocky," Nat chuckled, throwing an M&M in her mouth.

"I'm not," you shrugged, yet your smirk said otherwise. You stood up, dusting your shoulder to make a show out of it. "I just want a challenge for once."

"Okay," Steve hummed, scanning the room before his eyes met his, gesturing for him to come over. "Hey, Buck!"

Here we go.

With a sigh, Bucky walked over to your group.

"Really? You want me to hold back on him?"

You couldn't have toned down your disdain even if you tried.

"Bold of you to assume you can lay a finger on me," he countered, crossing his arms over his chest.

"You wanted a challenge so, go ahead," Steve hummed. "No holding back this time. I'm sure Buck can take it."

"I feel insulted that he's the standard," you grumbled, hands on your hips as you raised a brow at him. "But if you're telling me not to hold back I might end up killing him."

Bucky rolled his eyes. "Cute."

"Let's see if it's cute if I've got a knife down your throat."

"Jesus—" Steve ran a hand over his face before shooting you both a look. "I didn't say kill each other."

"Fine," you sighed dejectedly. "I'll try not to."

"Don't worry, Steve," Bucky hummed, smirking. "I'll go easy on her."

You were the first to attack.

Bucky expected you to go for the chest. With the short moment he observed you, that was usually what you went for when an opponent had a much larger stature than you. But surprisingly, you slid through his legs, kicking the back of his knee to make them buckle, causing him to fall forward. Catching himself on both hands, he rolled to the right just as your foot landed on where his head had been.

Is she actually trying to kill me?

He grabbed your ankle then, pulling it so rapidly that it had you landing on your chest with a cough. Before Bucky could even blink, you twisted, your leg hitting the side of his face. He stumbled back with a groan, giving you enough time to get back on your feet.

With deep breaths, you glared at each other from your places on the mat, bodies at the ready for another round.

Bucky attacked.

From the outside looking in, you two might as well have been doing a choreographed routine. You were dancing around each other, blocking some punches, landing a few kicks, and just when you thought that one had locked the other down, they'd immediately slipped from their grasp.

And this went on and on and on and on.

Nobody could decipher as to who would win this fight.

It was mesmerizing.

Bucky was impressed at the way you could keep up with him. He wasn't counting the time, but your stamina never seemed to waver. You didn't seem to have any need to catch your breath. You were definitely better than any of the agents, and dare he say it, any of the Avengers he'd sparred with.

Then again, your skills were a mixture of a Black Widow and HYDRA. It shouldn't have come as a surprise that you were simply that good.

But Bucky was better.

He was also at an advantage since The Winter Soldier's fighting style was so clearly the blueprint for your training. That was one of the things he always noticed when it came to HYDRA. When one thing was a success, they were going to run that program to the ground.

If Bucky hadn't known any better, he might as well have trained you himself.

He was able to predict your next move quite easily, already knowing what his counterattack would be before you could even land a blow.

It was making you frustrated.

Bucky couldn't help but be cocky about it.

"Killing me, huh?" he whispered against your ear once he had you in a chokehold.

Again. 

"Don't tempt me to do it," you hissed, head thrown back abruptly to catch his nose.

Once his grip loosened even the slightest bit, you pushed his arm and dropped to the ground in a crouching position, spinning with one leg out to sweep him off his feet. He stumbled but didn't fall. In an attempt to keep the momentum, you tried to go for a handstand kickup, but Bucky caught your ankle before you could even complete your move, tossing you over his shoulder with little effort.

Quickly, you were back on your feet. Sweat covered your body as you heaved. There was a cut on your brow to match his bleeding nose, the bruise on your lip was looking quite similar to his, too.

Still, you looked absolutely beautiful.

But even with your fists up, seemingly ready to go again, Bucky could see your strength waning by the second, and your frustration wasn't helping you one bit.

That was always aweakness.

You will lose if you let your emotions come into play, no matter how well trained you were.

"That all you got?" Bucky taunted, arms out as he tilted his head with a pout. "He told you not to hold back, принцесса."

He hadn't meant to taunt the nickname in Russian. It just slipped out, like it somehow felt right to say it that way.

Yet the fire that lit your eyes was screaming at him otherwise—a look so raw and unnerving it made Bucky break out into nervous sweats.

It all happened so fast.

Bucky was caught off-guard when you ran to him at full speed with a growl, your knee hitting his chest with such force it knocked him onto his back. He hissed when he felt your knee dig into his rib, putting all your weight on it to hold him down. His head tilted up once he felt the cold, sharp blade against his neck.

In his periphery, he saw Nat patting herself down, eyes flickering over to the knife you were holding against Bucky's throat, her eyes wide in shock. 

Natalia Alianovna Romanova, one of the world's best and deadliest assassins, didn't even notice you taking a knife from her belt.

That was how fast it happened.

"Call me принцесса again and see what happens," you said, low and menacing. You were so close, your warm breath was tickling his lips but Bucky could only focus on your eyes.

There were so many emotions swimming in them, yet the sadness was what intrigued him the most.

But before he could get a proper read, you were gone.

The next thing he knew there was a dagger flying past his head, embedding itself on the mat. He felt something warm trickle down his ear. Bucky didn't need to see to know that you'd managed to graze his skin enough to draw some blood.

A warning.

He wasn't even given the time to collect himself before you were already leaving the room, the door slamming shut behind you.

Blinking twice, only then did Bucky realize that you had managed to gather quite the audience, all of which were silenced as to what just happened.

"What'd he call her?" Sam asked, holding a packet of Skittles in one hand.

"Printsessa. It's Russian for princess," Nat explained, shaking her head disappointedly before rushing to follow you.

Bucky was confused. 

He thought it was quite an overreaction to calling someone an innocent nickname.

"Right! The show's over!" Steve's 'captain voice' boomed. "Everyone back to their duties!"

Bucky sighed, running a hand over his face before taking the outstretched hand Steve was offering him.

"I don't get it," the blonde murmured once he helped him up and offered him tissues.

"What?" Bucky asked, wiping the blood off his skin. 

"You and Y/N," Steve elaborated. "I really thought you two would get along so well."

Bucky frowned. "What made you think that?"

"You're basically two peas in the same pod," Steve said as if it was obvious enough.

"We're nothing alike," he scoffed, rolling his eyes.

"The two of you are more alike than you think."

•••

"What's all this?"

It was never common to see Steve Rogers hauling boxes out of his room on a random Thursday morning. And one glance at his open door, the space was completely empty.

"You're leaving?" Bucky pressed worriedly.

"No," Steve chuckled. "Just moving floors."

Bucky's brows furrowed. "Why?"

"Because you—"

The blonde was cut off when the elevator dinged. It was more stacks of boxes being rolled into the space. But then a figure stepped into view. Steve turned to him with a shit-eating grin.

"—are getting a new floormate."

Bucky has never wanted to punch him so badly.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me, Rogers."

His so-called best friend only smirked at him.

To most, Steve Rogers was the golden boy, America's greatest hero.

To Bucky? He was just an annoying little shit.

"Y/N," Steve greeted once you crossed paths in the living room.

"Steven," you responded, moving aside to let him and his stuff into the elevator.

"Try and don't kill each other please," he said, raising his brow knowingly.

You shrugged. "No promises."

"Be nice!" was the punk's last words before the elevator doors closed.

You didn't even spare Bucky a glance.

Instead, you just started bringing the boxes you brought with you into Steve's—well, your room.

Bucky, with no desire to help, casually leaned against the wall. He simply watched you make the repeating journey, taking box after box with you.

"Why did you agree to this?" he asked after a minute.

"Because I'm a good fucking friend, Barnes."

"What did Natasha bribe you with?"

"Fuck's sake," you groaned, dropping the box only to shoot him a glare. "Are favors for friends a new concept to you?"

"Favor? What favor?" he pushed. "Having Steve as a floormate?"

You ignored him, continuing with your task at hand.

"Why would she want Rogers to be next to her room—" Realization hit Bucky like a flying red white and blue shield. "Oh."

"Wow," you scoffed. "I knew you were dense but I was hoping Steve would've at least filled you in."

Bucky always knew that there was a little something between those two but he wasn't buying it as the only reason why Steve suddenly switched floors with you. They probably thought he wouldn't notice, but he did. Nat and Steve were the number one duo who had been trying to push the two of you to get along.

And when the tension only grew that much more after that incident in the training room, Bucky wouldn't be surprised if this whole floormate switch-up had something to do with their pursuit of making you act at least civil with one another.

"Don't worry," you said, placing the last box on the floor before meeting his eyes. "You won't even notice that you have a neighbor to begin with."

You slammed the door shut.

For the rest of the day, your statement remained true. Bucky barely heard from you at all, despite staying in his room given that it was his day off.

You were back to your ghostly ways, he supposed, keeping to yourself for the most part. But then again, it was only day one.

Unfortunately, your statement was immediately proven wrong that very same night.

Bucky was woken up by the faint whimpering he could hear through the wall. 

They weren't exactly thin, but they weren't soundproof either. There was a feature to cancel out the noise and prevent it from going out, but you had to enable it through FRIDAY.

You must've forgotten to turn it on.

He bolted out of bed when he heard you scream.

Bucky was outside your door in seconds, chest heaving as he pressed his palm flat against the surface.

He couldn't bring himself to knock.

Bucky simply didn't know if rushing inside your room was going to help you, or make things worse.

So he stood there, right outside your door, eyes screwed shut as pain clawed at his chest, listening as your screams turned to heart aching sobs.

Bucky had never felt so useless in his life.

He didn't know how long he was standing there, ears on high alert as he listened to every shaky breath you let out. He only went back to his room once you had gotten calmer.

Yet he didn't quite get some sleep that night.

Bucky—unbeknownst to you and him—had grown even more protective of you.

It was an unconscious act on his part, one he didn't even realize he was doing until Sam pointed it out.

It was always him who pointed things out, unfortunately.

"Since when did you become her guard dog?" Wilson had teased him once, right as they got back to the compound after a morning run.

His actions came to him in flashes. Whether that was immediately clocking any HYDRA agent coming your way and taking them out of the equation before you could even notice, taking extra precautions on missions for your behalf, or simply glaring at any agent who even did as much as look at you the wrong way. And if they actually said something, best believe Bucky didn't make it easy for them when it came to training.

But he never acknowledged Sam's words or outwardly showed that they affected him.

He only walked past Sam with a soft punch on the arm.

•••

Living on the same floor as you was…something.

For the first two weeks, it felt like Bucky was truly alone and that nobody lived in the room next door.

But as weeks turned to a month, traces of you were slowly integrating themselves around the common area, little things that made him know more about you.

You had a few cat-shaped mugs in the cupboard that made Bucky think you were a cat person. But then on a random day, he saw an orange one which looked like a dog, its face on one side and its butt on the other. He deduced that you simply liked animal mugs altogether because he saw a raccoon one, too. 

Then there was a knitted throw blanket on the sofa that smelled so much like you. It didn't take long for that to get followed by a fluffy pillow or two. All of them were one specific color but Bucky didn't know if that was your favorite one, or you simply liked to keep things coordinated. Maybe it was both.

Whether that was random knick knacks around the shelves, a DVD set by the TV, a well-loved book on the coffee table, the breadcrumbs of him having you as a floormate were starting to become apparent.

Besides that, he never truly felt like there was someone else on the same floor as him because rarely did you end up in your shared space at the same time.

If you did, you two always bickered to no end.

But as the sky turned from a shade of blue to the deep black of the night, Bucky was reminded that you were there right next to his room.

He wasn't overly fond of how the reminder was given.

Your nightmares didn't happen as frequently as he was prepared for them to be. But every other night was still a lot for one person to handle.

Bucky was yet to gain the courage to knock on the door.

It might have been creepy to just stand outside, it might as well have been cruel to do nothing while you were in distress.

But he was scared.

Not for him, but for you.

He honestly couldn't decipher whether he would be of any help or not if he just burst into your room unannounced. Because as confusing as living with you was, one thing remained clear.

You definitely still hated him.

"Can you fucking pick up after yourself?" you complained.

Bucky rolled his eyes. "It's one fucking spoon."

"Then put it in the sink!"

"Jesus fucking Christ what has that spoon ever done to you?"

"It's dirty and you're leaving it on the counter!"

"And?"

"You've got milk and cereal all over it!"

"I'm not asking you to clean it."

"But it's fucking annoying, you fucking slob!"

"Stop acting like you own this whole fucking place, printsessa."

It was truly impressive, how fast you had him pushed against the fridge with a goddamn bread knife against his throat.

It also stirred something in him but he wasn't ready to unpack that.

Bucky was holding his breath because if he did as much as relax, he knew the blade would nick his skin.

Who was he kidding, that definitely wasn't the reason he was holding his breath. He was a super soldier for crying out loud. He healed fast. A menial scrape wouldn't do much harm.

But you had just finished showering after your morning run and Bucky could smell your shampoo. Vanilla. Simple and sweet, a stark contrast to your fiery glare and the way you were holding a knife to his throat.

It was driving him insane.

"What did I say about calling me that," you said lowly.

"You know, you act so tough in front of everyone," he said, eyes defiantly glaring back at you. "But a meaningless nickname scares you this much?"

"Ne ispytyvay udachu, Soldat," you growled, pressing the knife that little bit harder.

Don't push your luck, Soldier.

Such a simple sentence yet it threw Bucky into an emotional rollercoaster.

He didn't know if it was the threat in itself, the way you spoke another language in that deep growl, or the fact that you were holding a knife down his throat but he felt scared there for a moment.

You were terrifying when you were angry.

And maybe this was such a fucked up thing to say but why was he turned on by it?

Bucky was grateful that you quickly left him alone after that. Once you were out of his enhanced earshot, he dropped his head and sighed, hoping and goddamn praying that you didn't notice the tent that had grown in his workout shorts.

It would've been so humiliating otherwise.

Shaking his head, Bucky could almost hear Sam's voice. 

"Damn, you're more pathetic than I thought."

•••

The mission was a bust.

One of the most important HYDRA scientists got away and managed to take with him the files they needed to track down other facilities.

The Avengers were gathered around the forest where the Quinjet was hidden. But instead of getting aboard and being on their way home, everyone was watching a screaming match instead.

Whenever a mission would go awry, everyone would regroup in the jet to try and discuss what went wrong and how to improve it on the next mission. There were never fingers thrown around as to whose fault it was because it was never anyone's fault.

But right now, you decided to blame it on him.

"What the fuck is your problem!" You all but marched up to Bucky, shoving him hard on the chest, making him stumble back in surprise. "Do you always get a kick at sabotaging my part of the mission?"

"Sabotage?" Bucky laughed humorlessly. "I don't care about you enough to do that."

However, if someone had seen what happened beforehand, they absolutely would call him a liar right to his face.

"Oh really?" you argued, shoving him again. The action was really riling him up. "Then why are you so fucking hell-bent on meddling with what I'm doing!"

"Because I don't fucking trust you!" Bucky gritted, aggressive with no ounce of truth as he took a step towards you. "I wouldn't be surprised if you let him get away. Sure as hell looked like you recognized him."

"Wow." You shook your head, scoffing, "So we're going to pretend like I'm the only one who used to work for HYDRA here?"

"Then why didn't you catch him?"

"You shoved me away!" you yelled, hands balling into fists. "I fucking had him!"

"You were being careless!" he stated the obvious, growling when you decided to shove him out of spite. Again. "You were about to get shot!"

"So fucking what!"

That only angered him more.

"Well, I'm sorry for fucking saving your life then!"

"How was I supposed to know someone was behind me? I don't have eyes on the back of my fucking head!" you countered, shoving a finger at the Captain without taking your eyes off Bucky. "And no, Steve, my partner didn't say a fucking thing even though he was supposed to watch my back!"

Bucky will throw his hands up and admit that you were right. But he didn't get a chance to warn you about it because he admittedly got distracted by nothing else but you.

For some reason, Steve found it helpful to partner you and Bucky during missions from time to time, said it was to build up the team chemistry. He had no qualms over it the first couple few, since you two did work quite well together despite your personal animosity.

But something about today's mission threw him off—specifically, the second you managed to get a hold of that scientist whose name he was yet to learn.

Yet it was clear as day that you recognized this man.

It was the first time Bucky truly saw this darker side of you. The pure and unbridled anger that captured your whole being was mesmerizing, the low drawl of your voice akin to a siren, captivating and that much more deadly.

And your eyes.

You didn't have superpowers but they honestly looked like they were starting to catch fire as you examined the man, as if thinking about all the ways you could make him suffer, turn him inside out with as much pain as you could muster.

During that moment, Bucky realized that he would've let you scorch the earth if it meant finally getting that revenge over the people who'd made you endure years of torture.

He would've stood by your side proudly.

It both aroused and scared him.

Embarrassingly so.

By then, Bucky didn't notice the HYDRA agent until they were already too close. All that was needed was one pull of the trigger.

So in a moment of panic, he ran, straight at you and shoved you out of the way.

It was either a slight bruise on your side or a bullet to the back of your head.

Bucky didn't take any chances.

Unable to control his strength, he pushed you across the room and knocked the breath out of you. And when he finished off the agent and you still hadn't gotten up, Bucky panicked. He honestly thought he might've killed you. And as he stood there in shock, only breathing again once you let out a sharp cough, the scientist already used that slim time to get away.

Yet despite the fear he felt during that moment, and the utter shame he was harboring because he failed as your partner on the field, his ego right this second couldn't even begin to admit that it was all his fault. So, he matched your glare.

"What's the point of saying something if you won't even fucking listen?"

"You know what, sure," you threw your hands up, so clearly exasperated. "Nothing of sense comes out of that mouth anyway,"

"Maybe I should've just let you take that bullet," he seethed, anger boiling over. Your defiance and absolute lack of fear as you squared up to him didn't help by one bit. "Finally get rid of the pain in my ass."

"As if you don't like getting pegged."

"Walk away you two," Steve commanded, voice stern and void of any patience. He gave Bucky's shoulder a push. You turned on your heel then.

But Bucky was just so angry that he couldn't stop himself from muttering under his breath in Russian. 

"Useless bitch."

He didn't mean it.

But you heard.

Oh you heard it loud and clear.

Bucky was sure of it because the next thing he saw was a gun pointed right in between his eyes.

"Maybe a bullet to the head will finally heal that blended brain of yours," you said, voice scarily calm, your face hardened and void of any emotion as you stared at him dead in the eye. "Or at least give justice to those innocent lives you took."

"Y/N!" Steve scolded, attempting to get you two to break it off.

But neither of you budged.

Everyone was on edge now, not entirely sure what to do next in case one wrong move would set either of you off.

"Rich, coming from you. But go ahead," he challenged, taking a step until the barrel of the gun was pressed right against his forehead. "Besides, it won't be too hard for you since you don't really discriminate against who you kill, do you? I mean, this wouldn't be the first time you killed your own teammate."

Tilting his head tauntingly, Bucky pouted. "Or was that your boyfriend?"

"Bucky!" Natasha gasped.

It wasn't the firm push of Steve's hand nor his tall stature standing in the middle that sobered Bucky up.

Oh no.

His anger left his body way before that.

The way your hand began to shake, the tremble on your lips, and the look of pure pain in your eyes was like a bucket of ice cold water.

Bucky knew that look.

He'd seen it through the mirror when a memory would replay itself in his head and there was nothing he could do except watch—the light leaving their eyes, the echo of screams, a gunshot, a body falling on the floor.

It was a look that was too familiar that Bucky felt the guilt clogging his throat because he knew he'd just managed to make you relive that specific moment over and over.

"That's enough!" Steve said firmly. "Both of you."

Bucky tried to meet your eyes, tried to immediately take back what he just said. But Natasha was already guiding you towards the jet, your head down with your arms around yourself.

"Don't," he sighed when Steve shot him a disappointed look. "I know."

Bucky followed the rest of the team after that.

The silence hung in the Quinjet during the journey home, a touch awkward but thick with tension.

You both have been forced to sit on opposite ends, as far from each other as possible. Well, forced wasn't the right word. You willingly put as much distance as you could from him, as if breathing the same air as him was out of the question.

Still, the jet felt as cramped as ever.

Rotting in his own guilt and self-pity, Bucky couldn't help but glance at you from time to time.

There was a harsh tug on his heartstrings when he saw you fiddling with the fabric of your tactical suit, flinching at the slightest turbulence or even the softest of sound. You'd never looked up once the second you sat there.

You were anxious.

He had never seen you like this before.

Mission reports could only tell so much, and when yours had been mostly redacted, Bucky knew nothing about what truly went down. Yet despite not being stated on the pages, he had an inkling that whatever your bond was with your aforementioned partner, it went far deeper than just a simple boyfriend and girlfriend relationship.

He didn't even know if it was given that label to begin with.

The worst of it all, Bucky knew that during that circumstance, you did the right thing.

And you paid a heavy price.

PART 2

✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ♛ *.

↬ thank you for reading lovely! reblog & leave a comment if you enjoyed! feedback is always appreciated! ++ consider supporting me on ko-fi if you can!

✉ NO TAGLIST: go follow @t-lostinlibrary​​​​ and turn on notifications to get updated on my works!

© t-lostinworlds, 2024 ✘ I do NOT give any permission to repost, translate, & use any of my works (writings, gifs, dividers, etc.) on any platform, with credit or otherwise. Please respect that. Thank you.

[yanderenightmare]

heya! do you have any more writing tips for writing on tumblr? like, any tips to get as much attention as you, kinda

Sure!

♡ Post in different lengths!

Or, more precisely, don’t only post long full-fics with multiple chapters.

I know it sounds weird, but the more effort you put into something doesn’t actually guarantee more payoff. Why would anyone read your hour-long fic if they have no previous experience with your writing that gives you credibility? In other words, how can they know spending an hour reading your writing is worth it?

More people are likely to grab a bite-sized appetizer than they are to sit down for a full five-course meal.

But! The more people like those bite-sized appetizers, the more likely they are to want to sit down for that full five-course meal, you know?

Think of those bite-sized appetizers as taste tests—kind of like commercials that bring more people in to give your actual meals a try.

Also, writing in different lengths is good for you! Only writing hour-long stuff makes you burn out quickly, which brings me to my next tip:

♡ Post often!

If you can, try posting something every day. Of course, you can’t post full hour-long fics every day, which is where writing smaller things such as drabbles, headcanons, and tiny prompts come in. Think of them as flings you have in between your long-term relationships. They’re fun little things good for your health!

But anyway, here’s a tip for when you do have those long-term relationships—as in, when you want to write full-fics or longer posts in general:

♡ Start with a hook! 

My attention should be seized by the first paragraph, if not the very first sentence I read. This is so important.

I’m a very picky reader sometimes—so if that first line doesn’t interest me, I’ll be fast to scroll to find something more enticing. And you can be sure a lot of readers are the same.

Under are some examples of my own start-liners.

Something foreboding:

There’s something very off about your roommate… something eerie that makes you keep your distance.

The plot:

Thinking about the big and burly behemoth Omega finally finding himself the cutest little Alpha to breed with…

Something catchy:

Give a brat an inch, and they'll take a mile. 

Something snappy:

You’re his favorite whore…

Dialogue:

���Feels like you’re luring me into some trap.”

A prompt:

Yanderes who keep you higher than a kite…

In medias res:

You lay on your belly on the bed.

Anyway, they don’t have to be groundbreaking—just anything that will spike interest in the reader.

♡ Write for different characters! And try writing inserts!

Inserts are when you don’t name any specific character in the story but either give options for what characters your audience can imagine or leave it completely up to them. This works best if you have a nice starter-line that tells you what kind of character this is without naming them.

Examples:

Bruiser boyfriend

Ex-military Yandere

Benevolently sexist boyfriend

Creep Step-bro

You can go further and identity the reader as well:

Big, brawny, chubby-muscled Boss and his perfectly bite-sized assistant

In other words, people like to know what they’re about to read before they start.

Otherwise and lastly:

♡ Something logistic you can have in mind is making your writing accessible. 

Say I like one of your posts, and I click your profile to check you and your other posts out, but all I see when I scroll through your blog is endless reblogs and one-off comments about this and that. My second instinct is to check out your Masterlist. If you don’t have one, my mission is fraught, and I’ll be out of there quickly. If you do have one, but it’s messy, then my patience will wane, and again, I’ll be out post-haste. 

The bottomline is to have a neat pinned post that makes it easy to navigate your blog, with all your relevant stuff easily accessible. Check out mine for reference. But the most important is for it to include your rules, how to request, and your masterlists.

Then, of course, this is obvious, but:

♡ Remember that things take time

I’ve been running @yanderenightmare since 2020. Back then, it took me half a year to get my first 1000 followers. And most of my posts would only get about 500 or so likes. And, that’s another thing—if I was doing it for the likes and follows I probably wouldn’t still be here, so make sure you enjoy what you’re writing and stuff. If you have that conviction, then the rest is just a nice bonus.

[justagalwhowrites]

Yearling - Ch. 30: Blood

Joel and Tommy run into trouble on patrol. A continuation of Yearling ch. 1-29 found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: Canon-typical violence. Plot points from TLOU2. No use of Y/N. Minors DNI 18+ Only 

Length: 7.5k

A/N: Hi y’all, I’m stashing this whole chapter below a jump because it’s been brought to my attention that the major event of this chapter is less common knowledge and more of a spoiler than I really realized it was. There is a major plot point for TLOU2 below. I’m sorry I didn’t tag the whole fic that way (going back to update that now) and I apologize if this spoiled things for people who were trying to go in blind. This is the first chapter with any big overlap and if you want to bow out now, I totally understand. My DMs are open if you want to know more without full spoilers and if there’s a way to keep reading without knowing the plot of TLOU2.

AO3 | Chapter One | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

“Dina kissed me.” 

“What!” You yelped and Ellie’s eyes went wide before she clamped a hand over your mouth. 

“Shhhh!” She looked around, her breath rising in front of her. But the only people out right now were inside the stable, a good 50 feet behind you and far enough away that you doubted any of them heard you, even if you were loud. “Jesus, Bambi…” 

She released your mouth and you tried not to giggle. 

“Sorry,” you whispered. “Good for you, kiddo! Told you not to count the girl out because she also fucks men…” 

“There’s no way she meant it,” Ellie rolled her eyes. “Get real.” 

“Why not?” You asked, brows raised. “Why shouldn’t she mean it?” 

“Because she’s Dina,” Ellie said, as though that explained everything. You just looked at her and she rolled her eyes again. “She was just trying to stir shit up because her and Jesse split up…” 

“Uh huh.” 

“And I was convenient,” she finished. “That’s it, that’s all it was…” 

“And you know this because you asked her, I’m sure.” 

“Fuck off,” she snapped. “Look, I didn’t drag you out here to figure that shit out…” 

“You sure about that?” 

“I dragged you out here,” she said, ignoring you, “to try and figure out what the fuck I’m supposed to do now.” 

“Kiss her again,” you shrugged. “That’s what I’d do…” 

“I’m being serious!” She hissed at you. “I have to go on patrol with her in like half an hour, what the fuck am I supposed to do?” 

You sighed and smiled a little, putting your hands in the pockets of the coat Joel had given back to you that morning. He said he hadn’t been wearing it but it had to have been hanging close enough to things he did wear and it smelled a bit like him. 

“First, you need to calm down,” you said gently. She looked like she was going to snap at you but you silenced her with a look. “I know it’s hard but regardless of how you want this to turn out, try not to be in your own head about it, OK? She’s still your friend and I’m guessing you want her to stay your friend, right?” 

“Duh.” 

“So eloquent,” you said and she rolled her eyes. “Look, you have two options. You can pretend it never happened and see if she brings it up or you can be up front about it and ask her.” 

“Is there a way to bring it up without looking like a desperate fucking loser?” She asked, brows raised. 

You shrugged. 

“Tough line to walk but I think you’ve got it in you.” 

“Jesus…” 

“Ellie,” you took her shoulders and made her actually face you. “It will be OK. Might be awkward for a bit but it’s not the end of the world. I promise. You can talk to her. She’s your friend for a reason and it’s because you’re kind and you’re smart and you’re funny. Even without the help of Will Livingston. None of that shit changes just because you kissed. Alright?” 

“Yeah,” she said, dropping her head to your shoulder with a heavy sigh. You put your arms around her and gave her a little squeeze but when she pulled back from you, her eyes were narrowed. “You’re in a weirdly good mood.” 

You frowned. 

“No I’m not.” 

“Uh yeah, you are,” she said, stepping back and looking you up and down as though she she were inspecting you. You just raised your eyebrows at her, expectant, when her mouth dropped open for a moment before she shifting to a shit eating grin. 

“Ellie…” 

“You fucked Joel!” 

“We need to have another conversation about the fact that what happens between my legs is none of your business,” you muttered, turning her around to head back toward the stable. 

“No we don’t,” she said. “This is great, you two have been so depressing the last few months…” 

“We have not!” 

“Please,” she rolled her eyes. “You were basically dead for weeks and Joel barely left the house for who knows how long.” 

“That… was less recent,” you said. “And it’s not your job to worry about us so let’s just…” you stopped just short of the stable doors. “How did you know?” 

“Know what?” 

“About…” you lowered your voice. “Joel. Not that I’m admitting to anything.” 

She smirked. 

“That coat’s been hanging in his front closet since you left.” You looked down at yourself and groaned. Her cocky smile grew. “You wanted the coat again. Bingo.” 

“Well just… keep it to yourself, alright?” You said, heading for the door. “I have no idea how to handle this with Savvy yet so cool it for bit. Please.” 

“I can keep my mouth shut you know,” she said as you opened the door to the stable and she went in. She opened her mouth to keep talking but Dina came up to her, smiling, and she froze instead. 

“Hey Ellie,” she smiled a little bigger before looking at you. “Bambi, good to see you.” 

“You too,” you said, clapping Ellie on the shoulder. “Have fun out there.” 

She glared at you over Dina’s shoulder and you just shrugged and winked at her before taking care of the final things you needed to before getting everyone out the door on patrol. 

You seriously considered, for a moment, taking Joel’s hand and just dragging him back home when he told you that you’d be going out separately. Things with him were so raw and delicate and new again. Neglecting it for two days felt dangerous somehow, a tension setting into your limbs before you and Julie headed out. 

You were always last to leave the stables, always waiting until you knew the rest of the patrol was situated even though you knew Olivia could handle things just fine without you. She smiled - a vaguely amused look on her face - as you went back over everything for the third time. 

“I promise, it’s all good,” she said eventually. “Please go focus on killing infected and staying safe and leave managing the horses to me.” 

On the way out of town, you stopped by where the working dogs were kept and asked if you could bring Gatling along, Julie looking a little skeptical as the dog jumped on Renaissance and settled between your legs, her head draped over your bicep. 

“Used to ride like this with her all the time,” you said, kissing the top of the dog’s head. Gatling licked her lips once and curved her body into yours as you sat back in the saddle to make sure she had room. “I’ll let her down once we’re good and underway, she’ll keep up. She’s great at spotting infected and I’m guessing she could be a great patrol dog once we get her adjusted to working with more than just me…” 

“She definitely looks like she can hold her own,” Julie said, watching as Gatling started scanning the horizon, her ears perked and listening, ready to jump off your horse and run down any apparent threat. “What kind of dog is she, anyway?” 

“She’s a Belgian Malinois,” you said, giving her a scratch behind the ears. “They were police and military dogs before. She saved my ass from infected more than once and she kept my girl alive when I couldn’t…” You kissed her head again and she turned to lick your cheek before going back to watching for threats. “She’s a good girl.” 

“Good to know I’ve got someone out here who can really watch my back,” Julie teased lightly. “Not sure I trust you to do it…” 

“Why not?” You asked, gaping at her. “I’m a great shot, keep you alive no problem…” 

“You forget I saw you trying to show Ellie and Savvy how to shoot a basketball that one time,” she smiled a cocky smile. “You barely hit the backboard…” 

“OK shooting a basketball is a completely different animal,” you waved her off. “Where it counts, my aim is solid. Saved Tommy once.” 

“Bullshit.” 

“It’s true,” you said, nudging Renaissance a little faster. “Ask Joel…” 

“Joel, hm?” She brought her horse alongside yours. “Things happening there?” 

You tried to hide your smile but felt the edges of your mouth curve up, anyway. 

“Good for you!” Julie said. “Both because you’re my friend and I want you to be happy but also because I like being right and goddammit, if I’m going to get shot down for a man of all people at least it’s a man I was right about.” 

You laughed a little before you remembered you had things weren’t just magically fixed with Joel yet.

“Do me a favor and don’t mention it to anyone?” You said, looking down at Gatling. “I need to tell Savvy…” 

The dog looked up to you at the mention of her name and you gave her a small scratch. 

“Oh, right,” Julie winced a bit. “Yeah, that might be rough.” 

“Yeah,” you sighed heavily. “I need to figure out a way to do this without losing both of them. I can’t do that again, I just… I can’t.” 

“You’ll figure it out,” she said gently. “It will be OK. Just have to believe it, it’ll happen.” 

“I’ll do my best,” you smiled a little at her. “How’s shit with Karen, by the way?” 

“Oh God,” she laughed. “I’m not sure how much I should tell you…” 

The patrol was easy enough until the snow started flying. It was still, the two of you talking, Gatling sometimes running ahead and acting more like a puppy than you remembered her being before, making you smile. It felt like if she could be like this - young and free and more than what survival had made her - so could Savvy. She would get there someday. You could get her back and make her understand once she was ready. 

Once the snow picked up, you and Julie decided to hunker down instead of pressing on to what was meant to be your final spot for the day. Though you were pretty sure you were only an hour or so shy of it if the weather weren’t working against you. 

“OK this is bullshit is what this is,” Julie said as she stomped snow off her boots and shook it out of her hair. You laughed a little as you got a fire going in the fireplace of the old house you’d reached for the night. It was just at the edge of a small subdivision, a spot you’d ridden past before but never spent much time in. The two of you had gotten the horses settled in the garage and Julie had done a quick walk around the immediate area to make sure there were no threats before coming in to settle for the night. “White, fluffy bullshit.” 

“Not getting you in the holiday spirit?” You teased. “Thanksgiving is coming up, Christmas right after that…” 

“Yeah, I’m already counting down until spring,” she said, shucking her coat and joining you by the fire. “I can only live with this for so long.” 

“I kinda like it,” you said as the fire caught the larger log and you watched it start to go up. “I like that seasons actually change here. It definitely made it easier to mark the passage of time when I didn’t have a calendar.” 

“Well I guess when you put it that way,” she sighed dramatically and you laughed. “But now that you’re in Jackson, we’ll keep you straight on the passage of time. The snow can go.” 

Julie had brought a bottle of whiskey from the Bison - “A perk of the job,” she said - and you were reminded of sleepovers when you were in high school when you and your friends would swipe booze from your parents’ liquor cabinets and get drunk around a bonfire. 

“I feel like we’re going to regret this in the morning,” you said, snug in your sleeping bag on the floor as the fire dimmed, head fuzzy and limbs tingling from the alcohol. Gatling’s head rested on your stomach.

“We can just sleep in a bit,” she scoffed and you heard her adjust on the couch. “What are they gonna do, fire us from patrol for running late? Doubt it.”

You laughed a little. 

“Guess there’s not much to contend with out there right now, anyway,” you said, closing your eyes. “Been quiet as hell all day. Doubt it’ll change overnight.” 

“It’d better not,” she said, sounding sleepy. “Better not be more snow, either.” 

You laughed once. 

“Better snow than infected,” you said. “Or raiders.” 

She didn’t respond and the room was quiet for a moment before you heard a soft snore coming from the couch. 

You laughed and then sighed, pulling a hand from the sleeping bag to scratch Gatling behind the ears. She sighed and curled up tighter to you. 

“It’s gonna be different when we go back,” you whispered to her, absently stroking one of her soft ears. “You can still come home with me, though. Maybe sleep with Savvy instead for a bit. I’m sure you miss her.” 

You tried to think about how to tell Savvy about Joel. It would have been a hard conversation under any circumstance, you thought. Not one you’d ever thought you’d need to have when you’d started caring for her. The idea of being with anyone long term then had been so foreign it hadn’t even crossed your mind. After Marisa, you’d given up on that. Just the occasional lover when there was a woman around who was interested as she was passing through had been enough. 

But Jackson was different. Joel was different. You had safety and security in Jackson and you loved Joel in a way you’d never thought you’d find, especially not after spending so long alone. But how could you tell Savvy something that you knew would hurt her? How could you tell her anything at all when she hadn’t spoken to you in weeks? 

“She’s gonna come around, right?” You whispered to Gatling. You felt her lick her lips and sigh against you. You closed your eyes but left your hand on the dog. “I’ll get her to trust me again. I will.” 

When the pounding on the front door woke you up, you were barely even aware you’d been asleep. But it was daylight outside and Gatling was standing near the front door, crouched low and snarling. 

“Wha…” Julie lifted her head, a groggy look on her face. 

“I got it,” you said, head spinning as you shoved your way out of your sleeping bag. “You stay put.”

“Thank fuck,” she groaned, dropping her head back on the couch and draping her arm over her eyes. You laughed and shook your head, going for the door. 

“Gatling.” The dog looked up at you, ready to obey. “Heel.” 

She fell back from the door and went to your leg, still tight against you, as you opened the door. 

“Glad I found you,” Gene, Jesse’s patrol partner said, pushing past you into the house without waiting for an invitation. “It’s a mess out there…” 

“That’s why we stopped here for the night,” you said, leaving the door open and nodding to Gatling, who immediately ran outside to pee. You waited by the door and let her back in, the dog sticking to your side again. 

“We can’t be that late getting out of here,” Julie grumbled, sitting up and pinching the bridge of her nose. “Not that it’s not just a blast to see you, Gene…” 

“We’re missin’ people,” he said, more to you than Julie. 

“What?” You frowned, crossing your arms over your chest, the after effects of the alcohol suddenly fading fast. “What do you mean we’re missing people, who are we missing?” 

“Joel and Tommy,” he said. “They never made it where they were supposed to last night and we can’t find ‘em….” 

“They probably stopped for the night like we did,” Julie waved him off. “Did you not see the weather last night? It was a shit show…” 

“Probably,” Gene nodded. “But they’d have made it there by now and we didn’t see them comin’ back down, either. No sign of ‘em. Ellie and Dina weren’t where they were supposed to be, either, but we at least found a fuckin’ trail for them, sent Jesse on to get them back in one piece…” 

You were already moving to put your boots on, heart pounding, Gatling giving you a small whine. You put a handful of jerky on the ground for her and refilled her water dish before you started packing up your sleeping bag. 

“I’m sure they’re fine…” Julie said, actually sitting up in the sleeping bag now, her legs pulled into her chest and watching you closely. 

“We should split up,” you said, pulling on your coat. “Cover more ground…”  

“Don’t know if that’s smart…” Gene began but you cut him off. 

“I can handle myself,” you said, harsher than you’d really meant to. “I’ve got Gatling, I’ve got my guns, I’ve got my axe. That’s all I had for 20 damn years and I made it just fine then. If you’re worried, you and Julie can stick together but I’m not gonna sit here and talk about how to minimize risk when they’re out there dealing with who knows what…” 

“Bambi,” Julie said gently, getting off the couch and taking you by the shoulders. “It’s OK.” 

“No,” you shook your head. “It’ll be OK when I find him in one piece, then it’ll be OK, I’m not…” 

“Gene and I will go one way,” she cut you off. “You and Gatling go the other. We’ll cover more ground. OK?” 

Gene sighed, looking between the two of you. 

“You got a death wish, don’t make me stop you,” he said gruffly. “Gonna go get my horse some water, we can head out.” 

You watched him go, a nervous energy coursing through your body. 

“Hey,” Julie said, taking your face carefully in her hands and making you look at her. “It is OK. It’s Joel and Tommy. They’re very, very good at this. They’re OK.” 

There was a pinch of tears at the back of your throat that you had to fight to swallow past. She took your hands, giving them a squeeze. 

“I can’t lose him now,” your voice was thick. “I just got him back, I can’t…” 

“I know,” she said softly, a sad smile on her face and you were struck, for a moment, by just how pretty she was. She pressed a soft kiss to your cheek, her lips lingering on your skin for a second, before she pulled back. “We’ll find him. We will.” 

“Thank you,” you nodded and took a deep breath, one tear slipping free, before looking down at your dog who was watching, ready and waiting. 

“Gatling, heel.” 

She moved to be immediately with you and you went to the garage, quickly saddling your horse and mounting up. You called Gatling up and she settled at the front of your saddle, already watching for incoming threats with her ears perked as you set off. 

You pushed Renaissance harder than you should have through the deep snow, trying to reach some part of Joel and Tommy’s patrol path so you could find some sense of where they might have gone. 

It wasn’t long before you found the path cut by a group of infected. A large one, judging by the footprints in the snow. You didn’t see a sign of Joel or Tommy but the swath of disturbed snow and brush from the hoard as so thorough you doubted you’d be able to tell if two horses had come that way, too. And, knowing Tommy and Joel, they’d have tracked the infected…

You looked higher for a moment, above where people would disturb branches and realized some branches on trees were clean of snow - too high for a person to bump on their own but just the height a tall man on horseback would hit. 

“Goddammit,” you muttered, steering Renaissance in that direction and pushing her on. 

The horse was breathing hard and heavy when you reached a mansion outside the normal patrol area, fully gated with piles of dead infected outside. You looked through your binoculars and saw tracks from the horses leading inside. But something about it set you on edge. Something wasn’t right. 

You commanded Gatling down and tied Renaissance to a tree that provided at least some shelter. 

“Back soon,” you said quietly, giving her a scratch and offering her an apple from your pack. You made sure your weapons were loaded, rifle at the ready, handgun and knife at your hip, axe across your back. Gatling looked at you, licking her lips once, waiting for a command. 

“Gatling, heel,” you said. “Hunt.” 

She latched onto your side like glue, crouched lower and keeping her mouth closed and you moved as quickly as you could for the gates of the mansion. 

There was no one guarding the place that you could see but you closed the gate behind you. If that had been enough to keep infected out before, you weren’t about to argue with it now. There were signs of plenty of people here, footprints of various sizes all heading for shelter inside. You tried not to think about the fact that you might have to torture information out of someone who left those footprints. If they had taken Joel and Tommy’s horses, you’d have to work quick to find what they knew so you could get to them. Torture could be the best option and, if it meant saving their lives, it was a price you were happy to pay. Because they had to still be alive, they had to be. 

The mansion was dark and almost eerily still. It reminded you of some of the places you’d visited when dropping of horses you’d trained to be trail animals for rich assholes before the outbreak, the trappings of extreme wealth couched in some idyllic, fictional version of the wild west. People who in places like this couldn’t handle the real thing. Real wildness would chew them up and spit them out. 

You crept through the house, looking for some sign of people, too afraid to call for Joel and Tommy and potentially bring down who knows how many people on you when you heard it, an agonized cry in a voice you knew, one you knew better than almost anyone else. 

“Joel,” you breathed, and you were running, Gatling at your heels. 

You knew that you should stop, assess, try to form a plan but he screamed again and you plowed ahead. A plan didn’t matter, all that mattered was one thing: getting to Joel. 

You had to get to him. 

He had to be OK. 

He had to be. 

*** 

Joel knew what it was like to die. 

He’d come close enough enough times over the years. Even before the apocalypse began he had a few near shaves. A fall off a ladder at a job site and the thought of “this is it” as he crashed down, the contemplation of what would happen with his daughter if he was gone, if he’d done enough to make it that she would be OK. A car accident that knocked him out and disoriented him enough that, for a moment in the hospital, he thought he was dead. 

The times since had been different, more acute. For a while, it felt like dying would have been a mercy. There was some innate biology that kept his body pushing to survive when his mind saw death as a welcome outcome when he got stabbed or shot when he was taking what he needed to survive or getting the shit kicked out of him when he got overrun smuggling. 

This, though, was something else. He didn’t want to die anymore, not really. He had you and Ellie and even Savvy. He had a reason to live now - live, not just survive - and he wanted it, wanted that life that was hanging there, so tantalizingly close on the horizon as heat of his blood pooled around him. 

He still wasn’t entirely sure what happened, how he’d ended up here like this. He’d reached the girl he’d seen through the binoculars as she damn near got bit, he’d shot the infected and pulled her up just as its teeth were getting close to her neck. 

“We gotta move!” Tommy yelled, shooting another infected. 

Joel gave the girl a once over as quick as he could. 

“You bit?” He asked. She was panting for breath but shook her head. “Got a gun?” She nodded. “Good, let’s go.” 

He tucked her behind him and led the way, trying to find a way through and out. There were dozens of infected, riled up and searching for something to sink their teeth into, desperate for someone to turn. 

“Shouldn’t be this damn many!” Tommy yelled as they scrambled back toward the horses. “Why are there this damn many?” 

“Worry about that later!” Joel snapped, dragging the girl along behind him. She stopped and shot two that were getting too close for comfort and, even in that moment, Joel could appreciate that she was a good shot. “We have to get the fuck away from here, try and lose ‘em…” 

“Think we can get all the way back to town?” Tommy asked, reloading his gun. 

“Hell no,” Joel shook his head. “Need to find somewhere else to hole up…” 

“My friends,” the girl said, looking between the two of them. “We’ve been staying at a mansion, not far from here. It’s got a fence around it, we’ve got the perimeter secure, if we can get there we’ll have help…” 

Joel and Tommy looked at each other. It was unlikely a girl this young would be running with raiders, more likely a group just passing through as they headed for the coast from a QZ. Tommy shrugged and Joel looked back to her. 

“Right,” he said. “We’ll head there, we got horses outside, you can ride with me and just tell us where to go. I’m Joel, that’s my brother Tommy, we’re from a settlement a few hours from here…” 

“Joel,” she said, something shifting in her eyes when she said it. 

“Right,” Joel said, not paying much attention. That seemed stupid, now. But he’d been so worried about Ellie, about you, about getting out of there to make sure you both were OK. “What’s your name, kiddo?” 

“Abby,” she said, an odd twinge in her voice. “My… I’m Abby.” 

They made it to the horses by the skin of their damn teeth, infected at their heels the whole way. 

The kid was right, at least. The mansion was secure, her friends clearing the area with molotov cocktails, infected burning just outside the gates. 

“Jesus Christ that was close,” Tommy laughed, clapping Joel on the shoulder. “Fuck, ain’t come that close in a while…” 

“Couldn’t get a good look at ‘em,” Joel said, looking back at the burning bodies. “See any bullet holes? Any sign they might have run into the girls?” 

Tommy’s giddy smile over surviving faded and he gave Joel’s shoulder a squeeze. 

“I’m sure they’re alright, Joel,” he said. “Shit, Bambi’s a deadeye. And you taught Ellie everything you know. They probably didn’t even come across these fuckers and if they did, they’re fine. They’re fine, both have made it through worse than a few infected…” 

“We should get inside,” Abby said, looking more at one of her friends than at Joel. “Now.” 

Things seemed normal then. Tommy was trying to get the group to come back to Jackson, Joel was worrying about you and Ellie. 

And then they introduced themselves to the group and it shifted. Just like it had with Abby, the change sudden and sharp. 

“Y’all act like you’ve heard of us or somethin’,” Joel said, thinking it was a joke. His mind was still elsewhere, still on you, still on Ellie, still on making sure you both were OK. He wanted to be back in Jackson, back in his quiet house, back in bed with you, pillows actually brought up from the living room and you close enough that he could trace little patterns over your soft skin. 

“Because they have.” 

He didn’t even see the shot coming, didn’t have a chance to warn Tommy to run, his brother on the ground - unconscious? Dead? He wasn’t sure - before he could even think. Joel screamed as the bullet tore through his leg and he went down, straining to get to Tommy through the pain but they swarmed him, these kids his brother had just been trying to talk into coming back to Jackson. They held him down, his back to a wall as Abby knelt in front of him, her face twisted into a snarl. She looked so different than she had when he’d first spotted her, alone and afraid and cornered the way he was now. 

“Joel Miller,” her teeth were gritted, the rifle tight in her grip. 

“Who are you?” He managed, pulling against the people at his arms, people who looked like kids, fucking kids. 

“Guess.” 

“Look,” he grunted and gave his arms a yank but they thrust him back against the glass. “Don’t know what I did to ya but I know I didn’t do it on purpose. Done a lot of shit in my time but I don’t hurt kids and you’re a bunch of kids…” 

“You kill my dad on purpose?” She pressed the barrel of the gun to his chin. “You slaughter a whole hospital of people who were just trying to save humanity on purpose?”

Joel’s stomach dropped. Of course. Of course saving Ellie would come back for him. Of course now that he finally had a life that was worth living it was getting ripped away for the one thing he couldn’t regret. 

“I did what I had to do,” he said, trying to free himself again, even though he knew it was futile. “But it was just me. Do what you need to do, make whatever speech you got saved up, but leave my brother out of it.” 

She squared her jaw, a look of disgust on her face as she got to her feet. She shoved her gun into the hands of the man - barely a man, almost still a boy, Joel thought - beside her. 

“Tourniquet his leg,” she snapped. The others looked around, hesitating. “Do it!” 

She stalked off as another girl obeyed, Joel trying not to scream through the pain as she tightened the belt around his leg. His head was still spinning when she came back into view, a golf club in her hands. 

“You don’t get to ask me for a damn thing,” she looked at him with so much rage, so much hate that, for a moment, he pitied her. That someone so young was so angry and in so much pain, that her father had cast his lot in with a bunch of child killers and paid with his life, leaving her alone, was tragic. “And you don’t get to rush this.” 

She jerked her head toward the people holding him in place and they looked at each other for a moment before stepping back. He tried to move but his leg was fucking useless and Abby swung the club, catching him in the arm before she forced him all the way to the floor with a pained cry. 

He wasn’t sure how long he’d been here now. Consciousness was hazy. So was the feeling in his limbs. At times, it was like he was floating, far outside his body and somewhere far softer and warmer and kinder than here. Part of him was back in his living room, almost a year ago now, on Christmas Eve when it was just you and him and he buried himself inside the hot clutch of your body by the glow of the holiday lights. He was lost in the feel of you, so soft and warm below him. He wasn’t sure he’d ever felt closer to another person in his life, lacing his fingers with yours and looking into your eyes as you came. He’d promised to take care of you then and he’d meant it, he’d meant it so far beyond that moment inside of you, he’d meant it for the rest of his life he’d take care of you. 

He just hadn’t thought it would be so soon. 

At least, he thought, he’d made things right with you. At least he’d gotten to tell you that he loved you again, at least he wasn’t dying wondering if you could ever have forgiven him. At least things were right with Ellie, at least she’d loved him again and she’d let him love her the way she deserved to be loved. At least she had you and Savvy now, people who would love her that way, too, and make sure she was OK. She was going to need someone to make sure she was OK when he was gone, she was so stubborn and she tried to be so much stronger than she needed to be. She needed someone. So did you. 

At least he’d get to be with Sarah again. She was so much closer now than she’d been before, barely out of reach now, somewhere quiet and safe and peaceful. Just far enough away that what was happening now couldn’t reach her. At least she wasn’t seeing this. At least you and Ellie weren’t seeing this.

Something shifted in the room, the club not landing on Joel’s body again, chaos drawing him back into his body again. 

Everything hurt, like he’d been put through a meat grinder. He wasn’t sure he’d ever hurt this much, at least not physically. Every breath was pain. He’d been lying here long enough that some of the blood pooling around his legs had gone cold. 

There was a vicious snarl, the crack of a gunshot and he realized, suddenly, what happened. 

“Gatling!” He could barely adjust his head enough to see where you were. Your rifle was on the ground but so was the only other gun Joel remembered seeing in the room. Your axe was tight in your hands as you threw one of the men back with a roar. You kicked the guns at your feet behind you and pointed to Joel and snapped your fingers. “Guard!” 

The dog ran to him and crouched around his body, hunched low, snarling and barking. You screamed and Joel struggled to see what was happening, tried to get up but he was only able to make it a few inches off the ground before he collapsed back down, his body too broken to properly obey. You were so close, you were in trouble and he tried to focus on it. He had to get you out of here, he had to take care of you, he’d promised to take care of you. He was supposed to protect you, that’s what he was built to do and he was failing. 

“Gatling, bite!” Your command was more of a shriek, sharp and fearful.

The dog shot away from him for a moment, a snarl followed by a pained wail and Joel could see enough to make out that the animal had tackled someone near you as you scrambled to your feet, more of them coming for you. Joel tried again to move but his injured leg gave out that time, collapsing below him before he could put even half his weight on it. 

“Gatling, release!” The screaming stopped and he heard another snap. “Guard!” 

The dog went back to him, snarling and snapping and 

“Bambi!” 

Joel turned his head too quick to the door, his neck screaming in pain, to see Ellie standing there, her eyes wide.

“Ellie!” He yelled through gritted teeth. 

“Go!” You screamed at her, bringing your axe around, swinging wide on another person coming for you, just catching their arm. “Get help, get Jesse! Go!” 

You circled toward the door, axe up, daring any of them to try to follow her. 

“You’re not a part of this!” Abby prowled toward you. “Don’t make me kill you, too.” 

“He’s a part of this so I am, too,” you panted. “If you wanna try and kill me, you better do it quick and you better be damn sure you do it right because the second I’m down, that dog will rip your throats out one by fucking one. She’s done it before, I’ve seen it. You’ll have to kill me - which she won’t take lyin’ down - and get to the guns behind me to take her down. She works quick, hell of a lot quicker than me. If you’re fightin’ both of us, you don’t stand a chance. You that confident? I am. So is she.” 

Gatling snarled as if on cue. 

“Other option is to get the fuck out of here,” you said. Joel could just see you around the dog, blood dripping from your side, lip split open. “We got backup comin’, we’re from a settlement of hundreds and we’ve fought off raiders and infected for fuckin’ years, think we can handle a band of fucking children without much trouble. This worth dyin’ for? Right now, I got your death warrant. Up to you if I sign it.” 

“Abby,” one of the men said. “Let’s go.” 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” She snapped. “You want to just go? Now? Let him live?” 

Gatling snarled again. 

“You’re runnin’ short on time!” You growled, teeth clenched tight. “Now or never!” 

“You lost control of the situation,” the man hissed. “We’re not all dying for your fucking revenge mission.” 

She turned toward Joel and he watched the hatred and the rage move through her. He watched her think about bringing the club down one more time, just to see if she could land a final, killing blow before the dog struck hers. She moved a fraction of an inch toward him and Gatling adjusted, a vicious bark and a snarl ripping from her. 

“He wouldn’t want you to die for this,” the man said quietly, so low Joel doubted you could hear. “And Miller probably won’t survive this, anyway. It’s done. Let’s go.” 

“Fine,” she bit out, throwing the club aside. Joel tried his best to follow her with his eyes, praying that she wouldn’t go for you. Once the people had moved away from him toward you and the door, you called Gatling to you, the dog standing between you and the aggressors, snarling and threatening. They left, watching you closely, without a word.

The door closed and you dropped the axe, grabbing a gun from behind you on the ground and limping for Joel, blood dripping down your leg. 

“Joel,” you fell to your knees beside him. He tried to say something but all that left him was a pained moan. “You’re OK, I’ve got you, you’re alright…” 

“Tommy,” he managed, panting for breath. “Check… Tommy….” 

“OK,” you said softly, brushing his hair back from his forehead. “Gatling, guard.” 

You snapped your fingers and pointed to Joel again. The dog obediently came and positioned herself between him and the door, body like a coiled spring ready to attack. You went to Tommy and checked his pulse before adjusting him. Joel heard him groan and you said something he couldn’t quite make out before you were back to him, a bag with you this time. 

“They’ve gotta have something in here,” you said, ripping through the contents. 

“Baby…” 

“Tommy’s alright,” you said, glancing at Joel before going back to the bag. “He’s comin’ around. Ellie will be back soon, she’s bringing help, it’s going to be OK Joel, it is…” 

“Baby.” 

“Hush.” 

You found what you were looking for, a bag with some medical stuff inside. You set it nearby and looked over Joel’s back, wincing as you did. 

“Need to look at the front of you, too,” you said. “I’m going to roll you over, alright?” 

“Baby…” 

“Shut up, Joel.” 

Your hands shook and he cried out in pain as you moved him onto his back, flinching when you saw his leg.

“Jesus,” you whispered. “What’d they do to you?” 

“Baby,” he said again, managing to lift a hand enough to almost reach your face. You took it, gently guiding his bloody palm the rest of the way to your cheek as you leaned down into it. “You’re bleedin’.” 

“Oh,” you looked down at yourself. “It’s fine, I’ll be fine…” 

“Need to take care,” he had to stop for a second, grinding his teeth through the pain as it wracked his body. It took him a moment to catch his breath. “Care of yourself. I’m… I can’t make it back, not like this…” 

“Shut up, Joel.” 

“Promised to protect you,” he said, brushing his thumb over your cheekbone. “Lemme do it.” 

“Protect me later,” you said, setting his hand down and ripping the bag of medical gear open with your teeth. “Going to put bandages on your leg, see if we can let the tourniquet off, save the leg…” 

“Baby.”

“Shut UP, Joel!” 

He watched you work for a moment and you felt farther and farther away with every breath. He could feel himself fading and he wished you’d just stop, that you’d take care of yourself and just hold him while he could still feel you. 

“Need you to look after Ellie,” he said as you wound bandages around his thigh. “She’s gonna act like she doesn’t need anyone but she does and…”

“And she has you,” you cut him off with a glare. “So it doesn’t matter.” 

You released the tourniquet on his leg and it was more of a relief than he’d expected it to be, the pain of it fading to a dull enough roar that he’d forgotten it was there until the weight of it was lifted. 

“Gotta get this spot at your side, too…” you adjusted his shirt and leaned over him and he got a better look at your own side, a bright red splotch growing on your shirt, a long gash going from your ribs down toward your stomach. 

“You’re bleedin’, sweetheart.” 

“I know,” you said. “Getting you fixed up first…” 

“Baby.” 

“Joel, I swear…” 

“Need to get you and Tommy back,” he needed to stop for a second to catch his breath, the rise and fall of his chest straining his ribs. “Can’t… can’t die knowin’…” 

“You’re not dying here,” you snapped, your voice thick. “I just got you back, you’re not dying here, you’re coming home and you’re going to be OK and…” 

You sat back, looking at the spot on his side that you’d just bandaged, wiping your nose on the back of your wrist as you did. 

“Gotta take care of yours now,” he said, eyes tracing the spot at your side. But you shook your head. 

“Outta gauze.” 

“Baby…” 

“It’s not that bad,” you sniffed. “I’ll just… hold pressure until Ellie gets back. It’s OK, you’re gonna be OK, I can’t….” 

“Here,” he ground his teeth, breathing through another wave of pain. “Lay… lay with me. Cut side up, keep the blood from flowin’ too easy.” 

You looked at him for a moment before nodding and lying delicately next to him. He adjusted as best he could so he could see you, touch you. You’d been hit in the face at least twice, one of your eyes swelling shut and your lip split open. But you were still beautiful, so damn beautiful. 

“I’m so sorry baby,” he said softly. 

“Joel…” 

“Wanted… wanted so much more time with you and the girls,” he said quietly. Your skin was soft, so soft it seemed like the sensation of it might be the only thing holding him to the earth. “I’m so sorry we’re not gettin’ that…” 

“Stop talking like that,” you were crying now, not making any attempt to stop it. 

“It’ll be OK sweetheart,” he said. “You’ll… you’ll be alright. Ellie’s gonna need you, keep an eye on her for me. Keep her outta trouble. Savvy, too. She loves you… she’ll… she’ll come around…” 

“Joel,” you whispered, reaching out to cup his face, your fingers in his curls, one of the only places on his body he wasn’t bleeding. 

“I’m so happy we made things right,” he said, his eyes searching yours. He wondered, if he watched you closely enough, if he could bring the precise color of them with him wherever he was going. “I love you so damn much, sweetheart. Need you to know that, OK? I love you.” 

“I love you too,” you breathed. Your skin was so soft and your breath was warm on his skin. “I love you. I love you.” 

You said it again and again. It was the last thing Joel heard before he passed out. 

Next Chapter

A/N: Hi y'all ❤️

Again, begging for you to trust me, OK? OK.

I do love you but... feel free to yell at me in the comments or in my asks or DMs. I'll be responding to asks about the last chapter soon now that this one is up.

Thanks for going on this crazy ride with me!! It truly means the world.

Taglist: @ashleymsnodgrass@planet-marz1@kalea-bane @juneswonderlust@ilovepedro @h-annahayy @starstruckmusiciansartghost@beccerjune@mumma-moonchild@netonetoneto@mellymbee@purplelye@n7cje@flugazi@evyiione@randomhoex@aliengirl99@orcasoul@reds-ramblings@pedropascalsbbg @fupoola @tinypotatothing @knopes-waffles @lilmizmoz @ayamenimthiriel@jenispunk@panda-pascal@sarap-77@flugazi@your-slutty-gf@daniegraceg@partyofone3413@cumberpegg@noisynightmarepoetry.@fifia-writes@grumpygrumperton @srmacaroni @txlady37 @bigboiseason123@ashleyfilm

[girlreblogger]

the annoyance with blk y/n and the stories she’s in is hilarious. her characteristics might be the problem one day or her side characters the next. it legit feels like we may never get to a balanced solution on what to do with our own representation since the wrong ppl always talk about it and create it. we have mean and shallow ppl who take over the conversation, ppl who really self hate but try and cover it up with “i just don’t want her to be a stereotype” and then the ones who probably love and support tyler perry movies.

the bottom line is the ppl who do write those niggafying, toxic (it’s a buzzword but that’s what they are) or smutty fics (not talking abt the actual good ones with a blk reader though 🧎🏽‍♀️) can do wtv they want and owe you nothing. that’s why they get so frustrated. i don’t think all the times those should be crucified for what they write when other groups of ppl (or our own) write all kinds of other crazy shit.

and.. i know a lot of ppl who don’t want to say it but y’all keep bringing up the smut and niggafying as the main problem, but i think it’s some of the ppl writing it and their underlings. it’s just no one wants to say anything.

an excerpt from a draft of mine

“a lot of ppl on here be weirdos or mean asl. so when someone block you don’t be like “oh what i did” “they that mad cause of my (internet—fictional—digital on screen) presence”

like nobody got time to go to your acc and say “i don’t like you” who cares. oddly some miserable ppl do actually but still. the lack of awareness is ridiculous. that’s why ppl don’t f with y’all.”

i was talking abt all of tumblr and every other app but it applies here.

from what i see on here, some are just straight up weird, cliquey, and chiesty (if that’s how you spell it) and that’s why ppl be so mad abt those types of books 💀. we also have to acknowledge the amount of overwhelming & honestly damaging blk yn fics (not to be confused with ppls screwed ideas of stereotypical) there are. i understand why ppl write them for personal reasons but when it comes to our own reflections of ourselves as blk women it’s almost hurtful to read some of the things people put “her” through. i mean even her with a white man that use aave and has cornrows is hurtful.. 😔 (i’m trolling now 💀) naw but fr. i personally don’t like reading blk women just being written for smut or going through crazy situations or kinda like.. i don’t wanna say unfulfilling but like.. idk i can’t think of the word. (edit: ppl write blk yn to be in unfulfilling situations) but girl i can watch a tyler perry movie for all that.

again. ppl write these stories for there own personal reasons, relate to them and enjoy them for those reasons as well. that’s why depending! on what it is i don’t think blk writers should be bombarded with hate like that. also ion think smut should be banned like y’all go to far can we just slow down on it … there are some nice ones out there i promise 🧎🏽‍♀️

but in all seriousness there are many other reasons why i feel toxic and smutty fics are popular for blk yn but i don’t think anyone cares to hear that and the conversion will prolly go back to nigga eren somehow which is crazy cause y’all be arguing over a fictional white man.

oh! 😒 i almost forgot 😒 the ppl who are against “ghetto” y/n to try and advocate for more fluffy or like.. normal (healing) stories and from what i see the ppl who are the most up in arms about it in my personal opinion seem to dislike certain parts of blkness that i appreciate personally and so i just straight up disregard their opinions. y/n doesn’t have to “act” (😒) blk but i see ppl get mad about her protecting her hair….. with a bonnet….

sigh, anyway but yeah we need more soft and sweet fics or just like calming ones? but someone gon have to write it! i don’t like this app or my writing all too much so i gave up a while ago.

just like many other blk writers….

gaspp! we should also do like a fluff challenge or sumn where writers do like fluff … march? girl idk so maybe that will trend and all the ppl who spend time arguing and going back and forth with ppl who write stories they don’t like can like idk look for other writers who write soft, normal, fun stories and reblog them or make a list of them. or maybe like possibly write their own stories too????

everyone says the smut fics gets the most likes and they do. that’s why you keep seeing them. so maybe support or refreakingblog the fics that are comforting to you so others can be as well.

i actually made this page to repost softer fics because i was tired of blocking certain tags so i can avoid heavy smut and subtly abuse fics. also pls leave the ppl who niggafy anime characters alone they will not be stopped. i mean we still have ppl who have been calling chris evans jamal since 2020.. calling him that to this date. married and all.

sigh… 2 more days until blk history month ends. maybe next year we can find a balance between “dramatic” and smutty fics and soft and slice of life ones for blk y/n next year. remember this is tumblr too and the ppl writing aren’t even getting paid for this but it’s for the ppl yk.

ppl who are respectful and reblog tho.

muah

[lo1k-diamonds]

SX Seoul Series | Jin Entry 💜 Break-line

PAIRING: JinxReader (You can also read it on AO3)

SUMMARY: You’ve been chasing dreams and medals ever since you can remember, with your best friend Seokjin by your side. You thought you had everything you could possibly want — until you find out Jin is keeping a secret from you.

WORD COUNT: 9.9k

GENRE: childhood friends to lovers, confessions, smut

RATING: R (explicit)

WARNINGS: tiny sensation of claustrophobia, vulnerability, protected sex (grinding, fingering, oral (m receiving), breast play, pleading?)

A.N. Here it is, Jin's Entry and (belated) gift for his military service discharge 💜

Masterlist | Masterpost | Scroll my stories on Tumblr | Schedule and WIPs

Your heart pumped inside your chest in a familiar effort as you raced down the street. It was already past dinner time, so you didn’t have many obstacles on your way to the subway. This worked out great for you; running was what you did best, and you were fast.

While you ran, masterfully and gracefully jumping and dodging anything in your way and making anyone who saw you drop their chin, you reached for your phone inside your jacket pocket. Despite your current bewilderment and lack of rational thoughts, there was someone you were trying to reach. You could sprint, that was not the problem. You just didn’t know where to go, exactly.

You cursed when Jin didn’t pick up again, your sneakers squeaking on the pavement when you suddenly halted to go down the stairs into the metro station. That gave you a pause to instead call a friend without losing much of your momentum. The phone called and called, and your annoyance built when you had to stop and search for your card. Where the heck was it?

“Hey!”

You were grumbling to yourself and feeling the pockets of your jeans when you replied in the same tone, “Hey! Do you know where Seokjin is? He’s not picking up his phone.”

“Oh, he won’t pay any mind to his phone tonight! He’s at the SX Seoul club to make a big announcement and celebrate!” 

You finally found your card and passed it, though your teeth were gritting so hard, they were clicking.

“I couldn’t make it, but— Wait, you don’t know? I’m surprised he didn’t invite you.” You had to close your eyes and hold back from snarking when he added as if thinking out loud, “But he only invited the guys so…”

“Alright, thanks, bye!”

You put your phone in your jacket pocket again and jumped from one foot to the other as you waited impatiently. The sound of the subway echoed its approach in the tunnel, but you weren’t known for your patience. Even the metro was too slow for you.

You got on, but everything unnerved you; the placid people sitting around, the monotone message on the speakers, the sluggish close of the doors. You heaved a breath and held on to the hanging straps as the metallic car finally got into motion.

You were a bit frantic and not exactly eager, rather bursting with energy and touching on anxious to get to the bottom of everything. This was why, when the subway stopped again and the same slow open doors, message, close doors cycle happened before you, you groaned and hid in your forearm. It would take fifteen minutes to cross Seoul and reach Itaewon, and it risked having you lose your mind long before you got there.

But you had no choice, so you closed your eyes. Those were fifteen minutes you had to process your thoughts before confronting Jin about what the heck was going on.

You thought back to the conversation you just had with your mom over dinner.

“So they proposed he’d settle with the daughter of a business partner,” your mother continued casually while you had long frozen with your chopsticks midair, speechless. “She studied abroad and is looking to settle back home, and they know each other. They’re a good match and Jin clearly thinks so too because after years without even wanting to touch the topic, he said yes.”

“He said yes?” You remember yourself repeating breathlessly. “To what?”

“To marrying the girl,” your mom rolled her eyes at your ignorance. “What do you think settling down means?”

“Why would they do that?”

Your tone pitched, and your mom sighed, “Because he’s become thirty. He has a name to carry, he should get married.”

“What? That’s ridiculous! Who are they to impose that on him!”

A fire was starting to breach through the cracks and your mother sighed, “They’re doing their duty. He’s never brought anyone home and refuses to talk about it. They’re pushing him, else he might never settle and have a family.” Your eyes widened by the second, a fury making you drop your chopsticks dramatically on the porcelain plate. Your mom sighed, “Most parents aren’t as liberal as me.”

You rolled your eyes, but then snorted, “No way he’s going through with it.”

“And most children are not as rebellious as you,” your mom’s eyebrows twitched before her expression hardened. “Didn’t I just tell you? He said yes.”

You closed your eyes, tensing your abs to stay perfectly still in a tunnel sharp turn. You knew you were difficult and obstinate, but your mom didn’t usually blame you. She recognized the importance of what you were striving to accomplish, even now that an injury had ended your track and field career as an athlete. You couldn't just stay idle and let the medals you had won at the national and worldwide championships and Olympics define your life. You refused to be shelved and default on former glory. Even if you couldn’t compete anymore, you’d keep on running.

You frowned; maybe that was why it felt like you were out of the loop. You were so busy juggling your work as an elite PE instructor and training the National Athletics team, all while trying to work on your recovery, that you probably missed Jin struggling. Meanwhile, the world didn’t stop, and for the first time, you contemplated if it was running faster than you were.

You almost flew out of the subway; your energy was renewed with the conviction that you needed to understand Jin’s decision-making. None of it sounded like him. You would know, you knew him best. He wouldn’t just say yes to an arranged marriage and if he was in love with someone, you’d be the first person he would tell. So why hadn’t he said anything? Why did you have to find out like this? 

You almost fumed when the bouncer refused you entrance because you were wearing sneakers and a tee shirt under your sports jacket.

“There are rules for the dress code,” he said dryly, with a side glance that almost begged the bystanders to take a look at how crazy you were acting.

You grimaced in annoyance, huffing as you reeled in your thoughts. Who cared what you were wearing? You shouldn’t have to conform to superfluous beauty stereotypes to be allowed entrance somewhere. You weren't naked, or dirty, despite how he was looking at you and making you feel.

A deep breath passed your lips as you readied yourself to reason with the guy, but then someone called your name and you turned back.

“Hey!” You matched Kangin’s smile as he approached you near the club’s entrance, “Why aren't you inside yet? Jin is waiting, come on!”

He wrapped his arm around your shoulders and just smiled and nodded at the bouncer, who shrugged and let you both in. 

You didn’t have time to voice your frustration because in seconds you were entering the main room of the club, and you instantly shrunk. The noise was loud enough to make you dizzy, but it was the mass of bodies randomly swaying in multiple directions, touching you by accident, that twisted your stomach.

You almost recoiled into yourself, but Kangin’s arm was still around you. He screamed near your ear, “I saw them, come on!”

You gave him a faint nod, but he didn’t see it; he got in front of you and made way, and you followed closely behind. Your anxiety was twisting your stomach, but you pushed through; you were there for a reason, you had to see Jin!

Suddenly, Kangin spread his arms and rushed forward, and you staggered. You saw him greeting a few guys in that corner of the room, all mostly having drinks in their own circle, and then you saw Jin. He patted Kangin’s shoulder, welcoming him. You were certain he joked about the drink in his hand, right before downing it, and that was when you saw that his cheeks were red. He was wearing a vintage blue coat that seemingly changed colors depending on the lights, and his tousled hair falling over his forehead looked humid. He was laughing and jumping around with his friends, most of whom you knew well, and you faltered.

Jin didn’t want you there. He never invited you to be there tonight, and he never shared with you what was happening. You had to find out from your mom who heard it from his mom, as best friends since childhood they were, because your own childhood friend kept you out of the loop. Because he didn’t want to tell you, and so naturally he didn’t invite you to that party. Because he wanted to celebrate getting married without you.

The anxiety was smothering your aching heart, and you swallowed dryly, rapidly coming to terms with his decision. You shouldn’t be there.

You looked down, the darkness barely letting you see your feet except when the white lights flashed with the booming music. What were you doing? What did any of it matter? You shouldn’t bother him right now; he said yes and had rounded up his friends to celebrate. Your heart was your own problem, and so was the defeat rattling your bones. You never spoke up, and now you had to be quiet forever.

Your eyes stayed low as you turned around to leave, unable to glance up and see a festive mood while it felt as though your heart was smothered. Everything was crushing you — the noise, the crowd, your complacency, your loss, your anxiety — but you had to find your way.

You stepped forward, but you never moved. Someone grabbed your arm, and you turned to face him. Instantly, your heart dropped; his knowledgeable eyes were on yours. Jin could be a goofball with all his friends, making the jokes and the party lively and fun, taking nothing too serious. But with you, it was never resumed to banter or teasing. With you, he could always read into things, say the right word, be there when it mattered. 

Despite his red cheeks and glistening eyes, you couldn’t find an ounce of playfulness in his deep brown eyes. His expression was unreadable, and it was because you were looking at his lips that you read your name on them.

He was calling you.

“What? Yeah, sorry,” you shouted above the music a bit uneasily. “I— I heard and I—” Your voice died in your throat and your thoughts vanished from your mind. Your features twitched unsurely as you attempted a smile, “I wanted to talk to you, but this is a bad time so… I’ll go now.”

“Wait.”

His eyes had never abandoned yours, and you couldn’t look away either, “We can talk later.”

“We can talk now,” his voice was surprisingly firm and audible above the noise, prompting you to shake your head with a sorrowful smile and try to pull your arm free.

He didn’t let you go, and you were having trouble facing him again. You were tearing up, “No. No, no, no, it’s okay. You’re celebrating.”

“I’m not.”

You could swear he was holding you tighter, and your eyes found their inevitable path to him again. From up close, just the two of you, it was clear that he didn’t look happy. The seconds ticked by as you more confidently noticed this in the redness of his eyes, the slump of the corners of his mouth, and the way he was holding on to you. He was not happy at all, despite the way he was laughing with his friends before.

You didn’t need him to tell you he needed you; you had been friends since the cradle. He finally broke eye contact with you and traced his hands over your arms and forearms to grab your hands.

You squeezed them, “Why—” Your throat closed again and this time you took a deep breath, willing your anxiety to settle. It was as though everything was falling over your head, but that didn’t matter right now. This wasn’t about you. “Why did you accept to do this?”

He shrugged, eyes still on your hands, “My parents nagged me every day for the last year. I just thought it would be best to put them and me out of this misery.”

Your eyes filled with tears at his defeated expression, but you wanted to make sure, “Do you… love her?”

“No,” he shook his head, glistening eyes jumping back to yours. His lips were curved, but it wasn’t warm; something wrong was pulling his pouty lips. Something like sorrow, or sadness.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” You asked with a broken voice, ache spreading through your chest as you squeezed his hands again. You weren’t sure what hurt the most: him not telling you his parents nagged him about this, or that he had said yes to their arranged marriage.

Your lips trembled, but you held on, waiting for his answer, and it came when he pulled you close to hug you. You were pressed flush to his wide chest and despite its unparalleled comfort, you started shaking. Those arms were your safe place, and had been all your life. You wished with your whole heart that you could do the same for him.

“How could I bother you with something so silly?”

He spoke near your ear like a secret. His tone hinted at humor, but his nose touching your ear in between threads of hair made you shudder from head to toe.

You gripped his coat, melting into his embrace as your thoughts thrashed inside your head. It was not silly! It would change everything!

Instead, you managed to say, “You should have told me.”

“Well,” you could feel his chuckle in his chest. “I’m telling you now.”

You pushed away to face him tempestuously, annoyance winning the battle for your heart, “I had to find out from my mom!”

“Ahh,” he looked apologetic, and the sorrow was still making him frown. “I… wanted to tell you tomorrow.”

You blinked, suddenly recalling you had a coffee set for tomorrow after work.

That could have subsided your annoyance, but instead it shook your heart, “Why? Why tell me after you already said yes? Why tell me at a coffee shop so impersonally instead of coming to my—” Your voice broke again as you faced him, and you shook, “Oh. I see.” Tears were suddenly roaming your eyes, but you pressed your lips, containing everything as much as possible. “Right.”

He wanted to say goodbye. He—

You couldn’t breathe and pushed his chest away, “I need to—”

“Wait,” he asked, pressing your lower back firmly so you’d stay in his arms. “You’re getting it all wrong!”

“Just let me go, Jin,” you begged breathlessly, unaware your heart could drown so much you wouldn’t be able to breathe.

“No!”

You swallowed dryly and attempted a reassuring smile, “You’ll tell me tomorrow just like you planned, it’s okay.”

“No,” he insisted, then shook his head. “I’m an idiot, I should have told you before, but I was afraid I wouldn’t go through with it then.”

You frowned, letting the tiniest bit of irritation seep through, “Because I’d remind you how crazy this is? And tell you not to do it?”

His puffy lips finally pulled in a genuine smile, “Because if I saw you, I’d be reminded of why I never said yes before, of why I never cared and just endured their pressure every damn day.” You blinked, unsure his reasoning matched yours. “And I would have endured it for who knows how long more, and it’s just—” He closed his eyes for a moment before facing you again, “And it’s just never going to end up anywhere.”

His smile was wistful, and it made you grip his coat again. You were so confused; his words didn’t make much sense to you, but just looking at him, your heart squeezed unbearably. You wanted to help him.

“It has nothing to do with you,” he added, and you noticed him pursing his lips while trying to think of the right words. “It’s not because you’re less important, or because you don’t matter. It’s because— because you matter so much.”

It seemed to you that his eyes and touch carried a deep fondness, one you had shared for most of your lives, so you believed him. You’d never doubt him, but you were still confused. If you mattered so much, then why did he keep that away from you? Every day was a long time to take that kind of pressure without venting or letting it out. Weren’t you there for him? Weren’t you his person in this world?

“I thought we always told each other everything,” you said, with your eyes fixed on his.

“And we do,” he raised his hand to your cheek, looking at you with such tenderness and sorrow.

And it had you shaking your head, “But we’ve been keeping secrets.” You were distracted by your thoughts, and so you didn’t notice him frowning. You faced him again, “You’ve told me about this, and I don’t want to keep secrets from you.”

It was his turn to be confused, brushing your cheek as if the gesture could make things clearer, like wiping the fog out of a mirror. Your eyes were clear, though, and you found a tranquility in the certainty of your decision.

“I’ve known for a while now, but everything was perfect, so I never said anything,” you confessed, not daring to look away from his eyes so his expression wouldn’t sway you. “I thought—” You closed your eyes before you faced him again; the lights and noise along with the crowd were all but forgotten. There was only Jin with his arms around you, your chests touching, and your faces so close, he was almost blurry. “I thought things could stay like this, but of course, they can’t. I never said anything but now… I have to, otherwise I’ll never have the chance to say it.”

His arms stayed around your frame effortlessly, like they were meant to be there, and his endearing eyes made you smile despite what was about to happen. It was because he was that one person to you; like a child’s blanket, better than an imaginary friend, he was your soulmate. It was that simple.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been looking at you as a friend,” your voice was steady. “I haven’t in a long while. You are my dearest friend in the whole wide world, of course, but there’s so much more. Inside my heart—” Your voice crumbled with the weight of your emotions, and your eyes welled up. Jin was staring at you with eyes wide and lips parted. His shock was evident, and you chuckled, “I’m sorry to burden you with this, I promise it’s the last time I’m asking this of you.”

“No,” he instantly raised his hand to cup your cheek again. “No, just— Tell me. Your heart.”

His voice was wavering, and you noticed he was struggling for breath. Was he hanging on every word you said? You couldn’t tell, but now you needed to voice everything that had been risking to fracture your heart.

“It beats like crazy because of you,” you breathed, grabbing his coat again to balance yourself. “When you drink and get touchy and comfortable, I— It’s so unhealthy for you, but those are some of my favorite times. When you put your arm around my shoulders at any time, when you hide me in your arms inside your blankets, when you take me to a comedian’s special because they’re my favorite, or when you bring me the best food because you know I don’t like to cook. I’m sorry,” you sobbed, interrupting your blurt with guilt prickling your heart. “I know you only see me as a friend, as family, but I— I didn’t mean to deceive you, I’m sorry.”

Your heart sunk; you never meant to do that. Your eyes lowered in shame, the tears in your eyes threatening to fall despite the whirlwind around you two.

You didn’t raise your gaze to Jin’s bewilderment, “Deceive me?” He took barely a second to squeeze you to hide in his chest and press his lips to your head. You hugged him back, holding on to him for as long as possible, and tried keeping everything in. “Does that mean…” He sounded pensive, but you suspected he was giving you time to work through your emotions. “You have feelings for me?”

“I’m sorry!”

His voice was close to your ear, but you didn’t raise your head to face him. You couldn’t. Like an ostrich burying its head in the sand, you’d keep hiding in his chest, taking in his warmth, perfume, and presence for as long as you could.

But he pulled you away by the arms to face you, “No, but—”

“Hey!”

You heard a smack and opened your eyes, suddenly blinded by the psychedelic lights. The noise, the crowd; the oppression rushed you as Jin leaned into his friend to hear what he was saying.

“Come on, we got shots!”

Jin frowned and was about to answer, but you slipped away. You didn’t hear his reply, you had to leave. You fought the bodies on your way out, sluggishly moving through quick sand and feeling tight and trapped with every step. Only your eyes on the exit sign kept you from losing it until you were finally walking out the club’s entrance.

The night cold filled your lungs, but you didn't stop walking. You’d run in normal conditions, but none of this was normal. You never liked crowds, but you reckoned that wasn’t why you were running away.

It was Jin. Or rather, the hurt.

You didn’t regret telling him. No, that relieved you. Because you never realized you were holding it back until now, and you never had secrets to him. That felt like a worse sin than letting your feelings turn into something else. No, the problem was that you’d lose him. Not because you confessed how you felt; Jin wouldn’t leave you for that. But he would get married to someone else, whether that girl or someone else, and you’d have to just stand there and watch and—

A sob shook you, and you crumbled to your knees in the middle of the subway platform. You were so selfish. You berated yourself as you hid in your fists; Jin wouldn’t leave you for this, but you would. Because you couldn’t stand seeing him close and in love with someone else. You couldn’t even help to shake as you imagined it — the sight of you pushed aside to make way for the woman his heart desired, when you wished you were her all along.

You heard faint echoes in the distance, but you didn’t move. The subway stopped and let out a flood of people who tried very little to dodge the person cowering on the floor, in the middle of the way, but you couldn’t raise your head. You couldn’t face the world right now, you needed to cry. You didn’t even think to get up and get on the subway car to go home; time was evading you entirely while you sobbed.

Your lack of awareness was so that you jumped and faced up when two hands settled on your shoulders. Your heart was startled; you weren’t easily caught, being as fast as you were. But fortunately, the gaze facing yours was the only one you wished you’d see forevermore.

You couldn’t face him, but he was your safe place, so you jumped into his arms, hugging him so tightly you thought neither of you would breathe again. It was only a matter of time before Jin had to let you go or lay you down slowly, but that could wait just a second longer.

He pressed you equally hard, with not even a playful whimper to tease you out of his lips. Instead, his hand supported the back of your head as he seemed to want to pull you onto his lap from the floor.

“Where are you going?” He asked quietly, so soothingly, you felt instantly better.

“Home,” you sniffled.

“Without letting me finish?”

You nodded into his chest, and as he petted your head, you felt as a scared kitten lulled by its favorite human. You suppressed a sob, but his perfume still reached your nose, and you gripped his coat.

“You’ve always been too fast,” he mused quietly, but you still heard him. “You’re rushing,” he said more firmly, pressing his cheek to the top of your head. “And I need you to listen.”

You shook your head vehemently. You had always been the strong one of you two, or so it seemed. It was Jin who held you together every time; without him, facing the world seemed impossible.

“No?” He asked gently, and you shook your head again. “Why not?”

“I can’t,” you confessed, hiding further. Fortunately, he knew you well enough; he knew how to deal with you shutting down. “I know you want someone else, I understand—”

“You don’t,” he interrupted your wobbling voice confidently, and your heart jumped in fright. “You’re right — we have been keeping secrets. But mine isn’t that I said yes to my parents' arranged marriage. It’s why I did it. I’ve been in love with you for so long I don’t even remember when it started,” his voice had a tone of amusement that almost curbed your attention. You jumped within the confinement of his arms, your body reacting faster than your mind, as usual. You knew he felt you squirming to face him, but he kept you in place, flush to his chest, “Maybe it was when I had a crush on you when you were the fastest kid in school. Or maybe later, when I had the fattest crush ever when you entered the national Athletics team. You never stopped since, and I just didn’t have the guts to tell you,” he chuckled, hiding further in your hair, so close his warm breath covered you in goosebumps.

But you didn’t have time to think about it, “Why?!” 

You pulled away to confront him, and he was smiling, the same as ever. So heavenly, your eyes filled with tears. Why had you never noticed there could be something more in those endearing eyes?

“It was never the right time, and… you had something else on your mind.”

He seemed nostalgic as he recalled you growing up together and spending your twenties supporting you in your endeavors. 

His smile never wavered, and you grabbed him by his coat over his chest, “You should have told me!”

He chuckled, supporting your wrists gently, “Should I remind you about how you felt about dating?”

You froze, you could hear yourself saying it.

It’s a stupid distraction, there’s plenty of time for it later.

“No, I—” You clutched him as if he could drift away. “You’re different!”

“I know,” he chuckled. “I thought you’d send me packing the second you found out how I felt, so I kept as quiet as a mouse,” he whispered, talking closely to you as if it were a secret. “Taking you out, taking care of you, being there when something went wrong; that was enough for me. I guess when I got drunk, I let it out a little bit, but—”

“I’m happy you did,” you breathed, tearful eyes locked with his. “But then, why did you say yes?”

Your brow was furrowed in confusion, yet he just shrugged, “I’m thirty, and they won't shut up. I could never risk losing you, so I thought, what’s the harm?”

“The harm?” You croaked, your fears touching your voice. “Wouldn’t you have to cut all ties with me? Isn’t that why you were going to tell me tomorrow at a café?”

“What?” His frown was deep, “Heck no.”

“Then why at a café instead of meeting me at my place, as usual?” You insisted, still shaking.

“They have a new blueberry smoothie I wanted to try with you.”

You gripped his coat's lapels still, “But your future wife wouldn’t like my being in the picture.”

“That would never be negotiable.”

His thumbs were soothing on your wrists, drawing small circles while you took on his gaze. Jin rarely got so serious, but you could see as clear as day that he spoke the truth. That wasn’t surprising, you knew he’d never leave your side.

Still, you tilted your head, sadness suddenly pulling the corners of your mouth, “But wouldn’t you be unhappy?”

You had both ignored the screech coming from the tunnel, announcing the subway's arrival, but when the doors threatened to open, you couldn’t anymore. He didn’t answer your question; rather, he pulled you to your feet before the crowd could form again. You lowered your eyes to your intertwined fingers and let him guide you. 

People stepped out to have some nightly fun, nearly emptying the car, and he pulled you to get in. Despite the available seats, you crossed to the opposite closed door and leaned back against it, as you often did. Jin was used to this and stood before you, facing you with both hands holding the bar above his head. 

You couldn’t take your eyes off him, even as a voice echoed from the speakers, the doors closed, and the train started moving.

“Yes,” he said, eyes equally unable to turn away. “I wouldn’t be happy, but who knows? Everyone else would be happy, you included. Maybe one day I could have been happy.”

Your frown sank deeply; you weren’t sure you agreed with his prediction in what concerned you, but that wasn’t what disturbed you the most. “I don’t like that,” you voiced with worry. “I don’t want you to care about anyone else’s happiness but your own.”

“I care about yours.”

“Not even mine.”

“I can’t do that.”

“Please, Jin. Just do what makes you happy!”

“Then I’ll kiss you.”

His voice was leveled, but his eyes were glistening intensely, and you blushed. You could see the passion in his gaze, in the tension of his shoulders, in the way he breathed. 

“I’ll kiss you, squeeze you in my arms, take you into my blankets, and never let you leave.”

Your heart raced like never before, not even when you ran, and your cheeks burned harder. You knew he could read you like a book — your intentions and wishes were written all over your face. Still, he stayed put, eying you, and you glanced at his lips before looking into his eyes, “Then do.”

You desired for that to happen with every particle of your being, shaking in anticipation. But you recognized his caution, and didn’t censor him. Being careful was only natural; you were the most important person to him, as was he. And yet, this wasn’t a sudden desire brought about by alcohol or any outside factors. This wasn’t a novel attraction that you suddenly wanted to act upon. You looked at his lips again, licking your own absentmindedly. This was the culmination of years of repressed desire, curiosity, affinity, so much mixed into the same pot that it was a wonder it had never exploded before.

He lowered one hand to brush your cheek, and you closed your eyes, leaning into it. You wanted his touch, and all the affection it carried, and more. Your breath shook with the expectation, and you were a second away from opening your eyes and jumping for what you wanted, but then you trembled.

His pouty lips connected to yours, and you almost groaned, instantly voided of thoughts or breath. All you could do was reach your arms around him, drawing him close, right before he brushed your lips together and your instinct took over.

His mouth was so soft on yours that you pressed harder. Of course, Jin would be like a feather graciously grazing your lips, but you were ravenous. You were fast, natural, instinctively drawn to him and everything he could offer. You couldn’t even tell at what point you opened your kiss and dove in deep, only that you were fisting his hair, his hands were on the subway door, caging you in as he tried gluing your bodies as much as the motion of the car allowed it.

And you swayed with him, busy guiding your mouths in a push and pull of recognition while he stayed aware of your surroundings. You kissed, and you kissed, unwilling to pause or break away for a second. Nothing was more important than that; nothing was worth the distraction. You knew kissing him would floor you, the mix of his taste and the almost forbidden-like sensation burning up your spine, but it was more than that. How had you never done that before? How had you even been able to resist? How had you felt those lips on your cheeks, nuzzled his nose, and cupped his cheeks and never succumbed to your deepest desire?

The more you questioned, the more you took, licking his tongue and stealing his breath as if there was so much more he could give you. You knew he could, so when he pulled away and pressed your foreheads together, keeping you in place, you frowned.

He had stayed attentive to the outside world, just like you expected. The speakers announced your stop was next as he brushed your hair delicately behind your ears. You couldn’t look away, seeing the traces of what you had done on him. His disheveled hair, messed up shirt collarbone, kiss-bruised lips so tempting you licked your own. The glint in his eyes held a familiar mischievousness, and you could swear he was about to laugh euphorically. Yet, as the metro lost speed, he pulled away. He stood with feet apart so he could stay stable while the metro halted, and your eyes never broke away. You were still winded, and he was giving you space. He wanted you to decide.

To you, there wasn’t even a question. As soon as the doors opened, you grabbed his hand and pulled him with you. You never stopped dragging him along, up the street, past several corners, and into a residential area. He knew the way to your place, but he still let you do this, and you knew secretly he enjoyed it. He’d tease you about it, certainly, and you’d shrug and tell him you knew what you wanted.

He got dragged all the way to your apartment, and you slammed the front door closed behind him. You eyed each other in silence. You were alone, and that was enough to make the tension spark all around you. It was as though you had never been alone together before, not with all that raw desire burning in each one of you.

You didn’t turn on the lights; the city lights outside the windows were enough to illuminate his teasing expression. He was playful as always, but he was still, tense, not babbling jokes as he pretended your place was the same as his, as usual.

You took your sneakers and jacket off slowly, your eyes never leaving him, and he did the same. Then you made your way to your bedroom, and he followed you, staying parallel to you always. You stopped near the bed, and he didn’t even glance around, he was simply looking at you. That was why he didn’t notice the pile of blankets on your bed, the same you suddenly grabbed and threw over him. The surprise would be enough to catch him off guard, but you still hugged him and pushed him on the bed, cocooning him expertly while making sure his head was out so he could breathe.

A fit of laughter bubbled through him, so pure and relaxed, it melted you from head to toe. You loved seeing him laugh cheerfully like that, and made sure the cocoon was nice and proper while he let it all out.

“I said— I said I would take you into my blankets,” he said, still laughing, now with flushed cheeks and tearful eyes.

“Mine were closer,” you grinned cheekily, and he nodded.

“Get in here.”

His wonderful smile was big and genuine, and you did as he asked, the tension momentarily forgotten while you tried to find a way to get inside the blankets you had messily wrapped around him. He helped you sort them out between laughs and teases, and circled his arms around you, covering you both again, as if that had been the plan all along.

You blamed your ease on knowing and trusting Jin absolutely. Even if your nerves tried to catch, his scent alone was enough to soothe you, melting the anxiety before it could even form. There was no space for worries or fear, only the certainty that he was your person, and you were right where you belonged.

He brushed your hair gently to the side, eying you in silence, and you recognized his patience while he wandered in his thoughts without you. But no matter how much you liked being in his arms, you wanted more. You leaned in and nuzzled him, testing the waters, and his eyes hooded, but he didn’t move. He was waiting, maybe carrying out a test of his own, and you should pass it with flying colors.

You pressed your lips to his and felt them curve in a smile before brushing yours, inviting you to keep going. You weren’t as hungry this time around, looking to take your time and not rush things, but you knew then and there you’d be devastated. Already, there would be no one else who could compare to him. Not just his kiss or taste, but the way he knew, understood, and cherished you. If you did this, opened yourself to know him without reservations, your very soul would forever be branded in fire and love by an unparalleled bond. This certainty would not make you stop, however, quite on the contrary.

You were done waiting and looking the other way, pretending it wasn’t there. You let your hands trail down his chest without ever breaking away. Your focus was on his warmth, firmness, and presence as he grazed your lips delicately, but it wavered. It was still completely rendered to him, but you wanted to take everything in, and it had to satiate every little millimeter of your curiosity.

He never stopped kissing you with gentle, steady hands on your waist. Not to keep you away, but as an open invitation to do whatever you pleased. You knew as much without words, and you had no issues taking the lead. 

Your hand lowered until the last button of his shirt, going under it to touch his skin. He kept kissing you ever so slowly, not flinching or touching your skin in his stead. So you continued, daring to trace the expanse of his lower stomach, forcing him to stop adoring you with his lips to catch his breath. He eyed you, a twitch of his eyebrows revealing a hint of torment, and your tongue peeked between your teeth. Making him feel that way only excited you more, and this time you captured his lips for a breathtaking kiss.

You wanted him and all the little things he was hiding. You had seen him in shorts during vacations, of course, but you had never touched him like this, and you couldn’t stop. Your hand trailed as far as his shirt let you, and you inhaled and swallowed every reaction he gave you, from sighs to a low, quiet growl deep in his throat.

You pulled the shirt to get it off him, and he let you, staying still as you traced and learned every inch of his skin anew. You saw as it took the markings of your nails and kissed near his collarbone, sighing with how intoxicating his scent was. It didn’t take long before you were starving for his kiss, looking to consume him again. Your desire to feel him was blooming effortlessly, but you didn’t want to jump the gun.

Instead, you took one of his hands from your waist and placed it under your shirt, over your stomach. He stopped kissing you to eye you, and you waited. It was his turn now, you wanted it just as much. How would you react to his touch? To his learning of your curves? Would you be able to read the desire in his eyes? Would the way he looked at you change?

He was even more affectionate than you had been. Every inch of skin revealed was adored by his lips or the tip of his nose, higher and higher until your bra stopped him. Or would have, but that was Jin. He simply pressed his face to your chest, staying there for a moment, breathing you in and keeping you close. You chuckled and petted his hair; he had always adored to put his head on your lap, you supposed that was the upgrade.

“I promise it’s even better without the clothes.”

He hummed, seemingly absentmindedly, before raising his head to face you, and your smile. There was something on his mind, and you were glad he voiced it, “I want to ask you something.”

You nodded with tranquility, brushing his shoulders caringly.

“If you knew for a while, why didn’t you say anything?”

“I liked how things were,” you shrugged.

“Yeah, but don't you like this?” He brushed his fingers right under the band of your sports bra, and you felt tingles down to your stomach. “I mean, I know I'm not muscular and strong like that football player you sort of dated a few years back, but—”

“Stop,” you smacked his shoulder playfully, then twisted a lock of his dark hair around your finger, “I like this, and I think I’ll like it even more than before. But why… it was a risk, and… I'm past my prime.”

“What?”

You had mumbled that last part and almost took it back, but you knew he wouldn’t let you. So you repeated it and saw irritation draw lines on his dreamy features.

“What on earth are you saying?”

You huffed and pouted, “You know how I feel about that…”

“Yeah, and you know you are not just your medals.”

“It’s not about the medals…”

“Then what?” He insisted, waiting patiently for you to look back at him.

“My injury,” you said simply, trying a detached shrug that was anything but. “I’m working on recovering, but I know I’ll never be what I once was.”

“I understand you feel that way,” he voiced after a moment of silence, carefully considering his words. “But what does that have to do with me?”

You smiled, “I didn’t want to lose you. I can lose everything, just not you,” you revealed with watering eyes.

He cupped your cheek, “You won’t. Ever. No matter what.”

“I’m sorry,” you breathed with a tight chest, closing your eyes, and he leaned to touch your forehead with his.

“What for?”

“For not telling you as soon as I knew, though to be fair, I— I might have—” You pressed your lips for a moment before blurting it out, “I might have been scared, so I pretended it wasn’t there. When my mom told me about the marriage, I just— I felt like I couldn’t live. I’d lose you forever without ever telling you I—”

You sucked in a breath, and he waited patiently, and you almost smacked his shoulder. Because he knew you’d get way more flustered like this.

“I— I want to spend my life with you.” He hummed as though you both knew that would happen anyway, and you huffed, “I want to live with you. Wake up in your bed, and not just because we fell asleep drunk. Talk while we shower,” you rolled your eyes, annoyed that you had to stop talking in such circumstances. “Hold you and show everyone you’re mine. I don’t want to have to worry about anyone else stealing your heart.”

“Now, there are exceptions—”

“Of course, if we have a daughter it’s different, but—”

“What?”

His eyes widened in befuddlement, and your cheeks burned crimson. It took you a split second to hide in the pillows, looking to blend into your surroundings. You were faster than him, but he knew you well — he wrapped his arms around your waist, making sure you couldn’t go far.

“No, wait—”

“Let me go! I’ll die from embarrassment!”

He was trying not to laugh, “You’ll do no such thing!”

“I will!”

“You voice my deepest wishes and then die? I won't let you!”

He grabbed all the pillows and threw them away without ever loosening up his hold around you, not even when you tried turning, sliding, and squirming away. Quite on the contrary; he pushed you back flush to his chest, and you whimpered. Not just because he was firm in his want, or his wide chest enveloping you, but because something was teasingly poking your ass. You couldn’t help rubbing yourself against him as he lowered his lips to speak near your ear.

“Only a cute little version of you could ever steal my heart, and I’ll make it happen.”

You closed your eyes, clenching around nothing and pressing yourself even harder back against him.

“Live, sleep, and shower with me,” he whispered, as though he knew it was a sweet torture for you. “I’m yours, just tell me what you want, and I’ll do it.”

“I want you to touch me,” your voice wavered as you begged, nails sinking into his skin as you both kept his arms around you and wished he would touch you from head to toe.

“Are you sure?”

The tip of his nose touched your earlobe through your hair, and you shuddered, “Please.”

His arm loosened so his hand could land on your hip and squeeze it, and you whimpered. He was behind you, your big spoon, making you feel safe and treasured while your desire burst and made you rub your ass on his hard-on. Your hunger was like flames licking from your core all the way to your chest, driving you crazily desperate for him, and fortunately, he seemed to know it.

He trailed up under your shirt, palming your curves with his big hand until he reached your chest. He was unrestrained; he squeezed your breast tentatively, massaging with increasing strength until you squirmed. His warm breath fanned your ear and neck while you could feel the tease of what was to come too far from where you wanted it. Firmly, he felt you multiple times, earning every bit of the encouraging moans slipping past your lips.

You trusted his gentleness, loved his strength, and knew you affected him when he started kissing down your neck. He couldn’t seem to let you go, and you ground against him, finally letting your chin fall when he rutted into you. He was good at hiding it, but he was going insane just like you. That was the moment you thought you had the whole night to take it slow, just not now. 

You knew he would agree because he was nibbling your skin, intertwining your legs together, and in an instant, bypassing the band of your sports bra to grab you directly. He squeezed, and you moaned, whipping your head back as he molded himself to feel you as much as possible. 

You were delirious but it was ecstasy. You knew then and there that he could take you there, just like this. One hint of stimulation where it counted, and you’d fall apart like a house of cards. You squirmed, increasing the friction, and he hummed approvingly. It set your conviction further: he’d guide you, and you would snap, fast as an arrow and just as accurate.

His hand left your chest to move lower, pressing your flesh firmly, but then he stopped. 

You whined, wiggling, “Don’t stop!”

He hummed into the back of your neck, and you pulled your own pants and underwear down, thrashing your legs around in annoyance to get them off. He kept kissing your skin soothingly, and you placed your hand over his, still on your lower stomach.

“Please.”

A nibble stole a sigh from you, along with a shudder, and his hand did as you asked. You immediately held your breath and let your whole body fall flush to his when his digit finally reached you. 

Your chin dropped with the rivulets of pleasure navigating your skin from head to toe, and you braced yourself. You grabbed his pants by his hip behind you and rolled your hips ever so slightly, unable to stop yourself. It was too tempting; his touch was merely feather-like, but you knew heaven was right there, within reach.

He worked with you, rubbing his circles in a steady way to match the sway of your hips. When you gripped his pants to pull him closer, he obliged, or perhaps succumbed to the sensations of grinding himself against the curve of your ass. Everything became seamless; every motion, breath, moan, and kiss building you intensely to your finish line like in one of your sprints. You could see it, so clearly. It would shatter you, and you wanted it.

The more he rutted into you, the more you craved him inside you, and it did something to you. You were throbbing around nothing, and yet somehow the hint of what he wanted to do to you and how that would feel like were turning you on like crazy. He sank his teeth a bit more on your neck, and you wailed. He rubbed his fingers on your clit, and you moaned. Then he snapped his hips to your ass, and you gushed down your thighs, barely containing your derailment. Every touch, every roll of your hips a bit further, until you couldn’t stop.

You threw your head back and let every bit of emotion surface as you cried your ecstasy. Your spasms shook you, enveloping you so absolutely, you saw no end. Only his body anchored you, though you were powerless to the pleasure rippling and expanding through you. When it finally calmed, you could still feel its echoes slowly dissipating, your heart racing in such a way you could have just finished a sprint. Only it would have never left you wanting like this.

You turned around and caught his lips, having no qualms on grabbing his hair and keeping him close. Logic had taken a dive, and it was a different kind of you on the drive seat. The you who didn’t see any reason to hold back, who wanted to feel those sensations to the fullest, and to live with him the best type of rapture.

He matched your fire, hungry lips eating your moans, while his hands felt your waist with urgency. You spread your leg to lace around him, and although pressing yourself to him had you both breathing heavily, his hand was still stubbornly on your waistline.

“Don’t hold back,” you asked in a quick pause before grabbing his arm to incentivize him to move.

You kissed him again, and his hand finally wandered to the end of your back before grabbing your ass in a firm squeeze. It was the last drop you needed to push him by the shoulder to straddle him. Instantly, you looked down and sulked — why were you both not skin on skin?

You threw your shirt over your head hastily, your bra following suit, and then you faced him. His eyes absorbed your body’s details, from the way your hair fell over your naked shoulder to your lips dripping slick on the bulge of his pants. You rolled your hips to feel him, pleased with how hard he felt, but not with the clothes between you.

You raised to your knees, looking down, “Take them off.”

Your urges and desire were driving your actions, so you didn’t think how that could have come across, but he didn’t seem to mind. He struggled with his pants and dragged everything as far as he could with you over him. Lucky for him, that was the moment you had to get off him to reach the bedside drawer. That momentary pause had allowed you to remember something important: condoms.

He was pushing his clothes into the bottom of your cocoon when you sat back on his lap with the condom wrap in your hand. You waved it, and he nodded before you looked down. Your eyebrows knitted; how could this be?

You put the condom on his chest and sat back further on his legs so you could lean and reach the tip of his cock with your tongue. That single drop was enough for you to open your mouth and take him, humming with his taste. Why was he pretty everywhere? Even his cock instantly made you drool, wanting to slurp, and swallow him whole.

“Wait—”

He touched your hand over his stomach, and you looked up, lips still spread around his cock. You needed more convincing to let it go.

“I— I want to—”

You blinked and stilled your bobbing, though not your tongue.

“I— What I—”

He swallowed dryly, and a small part of you found the situation amusing. He looked dashing: flushed cheeks, a few strands of dark hair glued with the sweat on his forehead, glistening eyes, wide chest with too little marks yet, and a firm torso leading to a juicy cock you were happily devouring.

You could see in his eyes that he was having trouble speaking. He needed a pause so he could think, and you had only one choice.

You pushed his shaft deeper and started swallowing around it, drooling all over it with hunger.

He grabbed your hand, “Wait, please!”

His tone was desperate, and you instantly released him from your mouth.

He fell limp on the mattress and rubbed his face harshly, and you pouted, “You don’t like it?”

“I do!” He raised his hands and placed them on your hips, “Damn, it’s— You feel so good.”

He sounded tortured now and you kind of liked it, so you leaned down to peck his stomach and he reached for your head.

“No, I want to be inside you. I—” He hesitated, and you supported his hands on your cheeks. You didn’t want him to hold back, you were in too deep now. “I want to make love to you.”

Your eyes widened as you blinked, and you nodded. He grabbed the condom to put it on while you observed in a momentary stunned silence. It wasn’t like you didn’t want the same, or that your need for him was devoid of love, but— To hear him say it like that, it— It made your heart skip.

You took his hands to help you position yourself over him and paused. Looking at him, you wanted to be sure you were taking that leap together, and he smiled with a small nod. His hands on your hips assured you and when you sank, so did the pleasure morphing his face.

You whimpered, but you were focused on him first. He looked like the sexiest, hottest man you had ever seen just taking in the sensation of being sheathed inside you, and you loved it. You loved how you could sweep him off his feet by just uniting your bodies, how his eyebrows knitted and how he couldn’t seem to breathe no matter how long he had to get accustomed.

You lay over his chest to kiss him and his lips immediately answered, though you were sure his mind was out the window. It was just you and him, body on body, feeling on feeling, finding a way to meet halfway.

You rolled your hips, finding the best angle and speed, and made work of reading his reactions. When he frowned, sank his fingers into your hips, or moved his legs to help you feel him deeper. You loved every little detail, grinding to have the best poke of his cock inside you, when you realized he was staying way too still.

You grabbed his hands and put them on your chest, and he instantly played with your tits. It tightened you immediately, the view alone something that could drive you insane, let alone the fact that his delicious cock was tucked to the hilt inside you.

You were getting lost in the superposition of pleasures when he suddenly jolted, making you moan in surprise with how deeper he had managed to get. It made you bite your lip, teasing him to do it again, but his smile was almost sheepish as he got back to just enjoying and massaging your chest.

You frowned, “Don’t hold back.” He eyed you quizzically, and you insisted, “I won’t break. Do not hold back.” You leaned in again to nuzzle him, “Make love to me—”

Your soothing voice was interrupted abruptly as he laced your legs together and rolled on top of you. Instantly, the shift in angle allowed him to reach inside you differently, and you moaned. You grabbed him close, wrapping your legs around his waist as he tentatively thrust once, twice. His eyes never turned from yours, taking in the way you were adrift. Your mouth had fallen open, and your breaths had a voice of their own with every jerk of his hips.

He dragged his fingers over your chest, pinching a nipple before leaning in completely, gluing your bodies. The friction was maddening, and you could swear he was jutting his hips like that on purpose. You held on the best you could, every slap a test to your senses, and soon you were only moaning, trying not to fall apart, but powerless to stop it.

You wanted to call his name, but you couldn’t think how to speak anymore. Rather, his eyes were on yours, and you could see his torment and affection mirroring yours. You wanted him so much, to be with him forever. Every swing of his hips tensed your body unbelievably, and his beautiful deep eyes, it was too much. You wanted him too, needed him too, loved him too. You couldn’t say it, but you could feel it, and he knew it too.

He tried kissing you, but you were too far gone. Your pleasure sought to floor you, but his constant thrusts through it elevated your senses uniquely. You were unraveling but also waiting, and as he gripped you, fucking you harder, you could see it in his eyes — he was almost there.

You helped him, moving to deepen his reach inside you, and felt the moment he popped. It was a throbbing deep within you that mixed and added on top of your ongoing orgasm, and you clenched harder. You moaned deeply, confused but unable to stop the way your body responded to his pleasure deep inside you. Instead, you let the wave take you, moaning as he groaned, both telling each other through sounds, gazes, and feelings how deeply you felt one another.

He settled inside you, recovering his breath while you held him close. You whimpered when he pulled away, tapping his shoulders so he’d hold you again, but he just looked at you. You raised a hand to his cheek, a question shimmering in your eyes along with so much else. Finally, he dove in for your lips, sealing the words on the tip of his tongue through a loving kiss.

[vaspider]

It seems like you might be having a bad day? That AITA post was a really lighthearted promo and faux links ala Rick Rolls are an established part of internet sillies. It wasn’t malicious and the subject they linked to is free.

You’re generally a more level headed person so I was surprised to see how aggressive you got. But based on your reaction the author is getting doxxed which does feel unfair given the nature of the post.

Okay, no. Absolutely not.

First of all: This is the last thing I'm saying about that post. Anybody trying to continue this conversation with me in any way after this response will be blocked.

We're not doing that nonsense up there. We're not doing the "Spider is responsible for someone else's behavior" thing. I've been very, very clear that I don't endorse harassment or doxxing, and I've also been very clear that I'm not responsible for what other people do. Saying, "I don't like deceptive links, and this has done the opposite of interesting me, it's upset me and made me not want to read this; heads-up, y'all, this isn't a legit AITA post," which is all I ever said, really, isn't in any way an incitement of doxxing or harassment, and it's absolutely shitty of you to try to lay that at my feet.

Are deceptive links (commonly called "RickRolls" even when they don't link to the Rick Astley video) a fun and hilarious part of internet culture? Not really, actually. Most links on the internet that don't lead to where they say they lead aren't fun and cheerful little "memes" (the post wasn't a meme, but we'll use the word the OP used) inviting people to read a free queer book: they're usually part of social engineering phishing campaigns.

What makes the original RickRoll sometimes acceptable is a) the fact that you immediately know you've been "got" because an Original RickRoll is unmistakable after the first time you experience it, b) the link serves as a punchline to a specific kind of internet joke, usually along the lines of "click this link for news that seems too good to be true," which reinforces the idea that you have to be careful about believing what you see online, and c) it's unique. It actually isn't funny, cute, or cool to put deceptive links up online, with the possible exception of a well-executed Original RickRoll. That's the entire point of why Original RickRolls work.

Deceptive linking is a behavior that is illegal in some jurisdictions & is also grounds for banning from a lot of sites, including, wait for it:

Deceptive or Fraudulent Links. Don't post deceptive or fraudulent links in your posts. This includes giving links misleading descriptions, putting the wrong “source” field in a post, setting misleading click-through links on images, or embedding links to interstitial or pop-up ads.

Tumblr.

Got that? It's actually against the fucking rules here. It's really, really clearly written in Tumblr's User Guidelines section of the Terms of Service. You know, the rules everybody is supposed to be following to be here?

So, no, I'm not "having a bad day," except that people keep being asshats to me for saying, "I don't think it's cool that you did this thing (that breaks the ToS on the site and uses a technique commonly used for spearphishing) to promote your book, actually," doubling down on it by trying to shame me by using the fact that it's a queer book as an emotional lever, and now I've got this ask both trying to make me responsible for other people's behavior and acting like me saying "hey, this isn't cool, and no, that response isn't cool either," and then blocking the person and moving on with my life is somehow not "levelheaded."

tl;dr:

Deceptive linking is against TOS, actually.

I'm not responsible for other people's bad behavior. I did not invite or incite that behavior. I just said "this thing you did isn't okay."

I have expressly disavowed doxxing and harassment for years, both because it's shit and because I've been a repeat victim of it.

How dare you, actually.

I blocked the OP after my second response. I'm not going to talk about this anymore. Anyone sending me any further asks about the subject whatsoever or attempting to continue this conversation with me in any way will simply be blocked.

Fuck's sake.

[natsgrave]

PICK UP LINES | natasha romanoff

a/n: this is my first time posting and using tumblr, so i don't really know how this shit work, lol. also, i'm not good with summaries and english is not my first language, forgive me. i do not give permission for my work to be copied or translated on other sites. plagiarism is a crime!! masterlist whispers of heartache m.list

Y/N'S POV I was looking at Natasha while she's talking to Bruce seriously, I was wondering if should I do the thing that I saw earlier. A couple exchanging some corny pick up lines. I've been hiding my feelings for her for like a year or two now. Well, what can I say? I'm not really a vocal person and she's very hard to approach.

A cold-hearted ex-assassin spy, how am I supposed to tell her that I'm in love with her? It's hard! She's hard to read and I don't want to ruin what we have now, I don't want her to be uncomfortable and feel weird around me after I confess. Why is it just so impossible?

"Y/LN!!" someone shouted snapping out from my thoughts. I look around and saw Bucky standing at the corner. He made his way towards me and sat down before flashing me a smile.

"What can I do for you, Buck?" I asked.

"Why are you looking at Nat?" He asked with a smirk, and I can feel my face turns red. I'm blushing, oh my god!

"I'm not." I lied as I cleared my throat. He puts his hand on mine and smiled at me genuinely, "It's okay, I'll support you with anything and I'll suggest go get your girl." He said and poke my side making me giggle.

"Bucky stop! It tickles!" I said between laughter but he didn't stop.

While you and Bucky are having your fun, your laughter and giggles caught Natasha's attention. Her heart tightened when she saw you with Bucky, happy. Not that she doesn't want you to be happy, but she want it to be her. She wants to make you happy and give you everything. But she didn't know that you and him are just friends, and to be honest she's the one you're in love with.

"Okay, Bucky! Stop, please, I can't take it anymore!" and finally, he stopped while I start to catch my breathe. I wiped the tear that came out from my eyes because of laughter. Bucky pulled me into a warm embrace and whisper to me, "Go, tell her that you love her before it's too late." He encouraged me before pulling away. I smiled at him and nod. He mess with my hair a little before walking away.

Shortly after Bucky left, I look over where Nat and Bruce are and found Natasha already staring at me. When our eyes met, she turned away quickly and walks out causing me to tilt my head because of confusion. What happened to her? I shrugged my shoulder and start thinking about something to confess my love for her with positive things on my head to boast my confidence.

The night comes, and all of us gathered in the lounge. I was sitting on Bucky's right side while Steve is on the other side of him. Natasha is sitting beside Bruce, talking again about only god knows what. Wanda is with Vision cooking something, while Tony and Clint are just messing around.

I keep stealing glances at Natasha and I'm glad she haven't noticed it yet. But, unlucky me, Bucky notice what I'm doing and nudges my shoulder.

"What the hell are you doing? Talk to her!" He whisper shout.

"You know it's not that easy, right?" I whispered back and he rolled his eyes to me before looking at Natasha. I grab my drink before hearing Bucky cleared his throat making me look at him, confused.

"Hey, Nat." He calls out. Natasha instantly dropped his conversation with Bruce and look at him, "Why?" She asked. I took a sip from my drink while waiting for his response. "Y/N wants to talk to you." He said hiding his smirk while I choke out from my drink. I gave him a look and he just smirked at me, "What the hell, Buck!?" I whispered and slap his arm, not the metal one because I'm not stupid. He just shrugged and lean back to the couch before I turn my gaze over to Natasha and found her eyeing me already causing me to blush and a smirk forms into her lips. SHE DIDN'T EVEN TRIED TO HIDE IT!

"What do you want, Y/N?" She asked with her raspy voice and I swear to god, her voice is enough to kill me. Clearing my throat, I asked and pointed outside, "Can we talk in private, please?" She nods and start to walk outside with me following her behind but before that I look at Bucky and he mouthed a "welcome." I rolled my eyes and give him a finger.

Once we're outside I felt myself getting nervous every passing second and my palm starting to sweat. She turned around and looks at me, "What is it, Y/N?" I took a deep breath and think about what I'm going to do, having second thoughts. Should I really do this? This is going to be so embarrassing and will probably ruin our friendship! 

"Y/N?" She speaks again.

"I just wanted to ask if you're a bank loan?" Natasha's eyebrows furrowed as her eyes looked at me confused, "What?" she asked.

"Because you got my interest." I finished before mentally cursing myself for the stupid and corny pick up line that I spill.

"What are you doing?" She asked hiding her smile.

"I'm trying to be sweet, just give me a sec." I said lifting my pointy finger and think about something else. She kept silent waiting for me to embarrassed myself even more.

"Are you a time traveler? Because I see you in my future." Once again, myself received a mentally cursed from me. Natasha let out a giggle which she tried to cover with cough. I smiled to myself knowing I'm doing good even though I'm embarrassing myself in front of the that girl I like.

"Your hands look heavy, can I hold it for you?" I blurt out and this time with confidence. She shakes her head and smiles, "Why are you doing this exactly?"

"I, uhm— I like you, Nat. Actually, no, scratch that. I love you, Nat. I don't know when and how but one day, I just woke up and suddenly felt this, I've been in love with you for a year now, and I'm not expecting you to like me back. I just want you to know what I feel because everyday, it's getting hard to hide it anymore. I don't know if you're with Bruce because of how close you two are but please, after this don't ignore me, distance yourself from me or feel weird around me. Even you don't feel the same, I still want to be your friend. It's fine by me." I rumble and catch my breathe. She looks at me searching my eyes if I'm telling the truth.

Once she's satisfied she flashed me a genuine smile and walks closely to me before taking my hand, not breaking the eye contact.

"Your lips look lonely would they like to meet mine?" She said and smirked at me.

I feel my face start to heat up, and turning into a crimson red.

"Th-That was nice." I said and nervously chuckled.

"You look so cute when you're nervous, but, I'm serious." She softy said and flashing me another smile. My eyes widen and pointed myself, "You like me too?" I asked with a shocked tone still pointing at myself. She nods and pulled my neck as our lips locked.

Her soft and sweet lips, I grab her waist to pull her closer to me. She wrapped her hands around my neck and pulled away, resting our foreheads together.

"I love you too, Y/N." She confessed causing a smile to form into my face and hugs her tight which she gladly returned.

"You don't know how much this meant to me, Nat. I'm so happy." I mumbled, feeling her giggles.

"I am too, I thought you and Bucky are together because you guys are so close."

"I can say the same with you and Bruce." I replied not pulling away from the hug and walks impossibly close to her.

"You can't get any closer, baby." She chuckled.

I cupped her face and pecked her lips, "Why is your pick up lines are so good and sound so descent, while mine sounds so cringe and corny?" I asked teasingly. She poked my nose before cupping my cheeks, "It's actually sweet, I like it and I love you." She smiled. "Let's go back inside, I think they're looking for us already." I said and starts pulling her back inside. Before we can enter, she stops at the door and turned me around before kissing me. When she pulled away, she smiled at me cheekily which received a giggle from me. We walked back hand in hand causing everyone to notice us.

They gaze goes from us going down to our hands. Bucky let out a very loud cheer, screaming "yes" over and over again all the while Wanda gasp, and smiles form into others faces. I look at Natasha and she did the same.

"I love you, Natasha Romanoff."

"I love you too, Y/N Y/LN."

[totallynotsilversora]

Hey nerds guess who made another thread about Vash's shooting skills during the finale of Trigun Stampede?

This nerd right here!

(( AGAIN! ))

Because Studio Orange has been driving me insane with how great Vash is as a gunman not just cinematically but realistically! I am NOT getting over this for a while my friends.

Of course, if you hadn't watched the finale yet and want to avoid spoilers, just know this post is gonna be filled with them and if you'd like to see my first analysis on Vash the Pro Gunslinger you can check it out here on tumblr and here on twitter before reading through this one!

Speaking of the bird, this post is also on twitter below:

Oh but wait, don't have one? No worries! I've retyped everything below so you don't have to look at the bird app if you don't want to!

All posts mention guns and shooting because otherwise this analysis would not work at all.

NOW LET'S ROLL!

First off, again, I’m going based on what I remembered from shooting air rifles & other research I’ve gained over the years! Second, I’m not an OG Trigun fan, so do take this thread with a grain of salt!

With that, let’s dive into THEE fight scene:

So right off the bat we’re getting Vash’s “smooth criminal” shot! Notice how he’s lining up his body sideways with his pistol vs forward like in the past. That’s exactly how you’re supposed to shoot one handed: feet shoulder width apart and aligned w/ the gun.

Normally you’d want both feet planted on the ground when firing but since Vash HAS to stay on the move to avoid getting hit AND is being a cocky little shit to his brother, he lets himself lean forward to fire and use that kick back to gently guide him into his next step.

Again, you NEVER fight what’s considered natural movement with a gun! You WILL get hurt! If you want to aim properly you NEED to be relaxed and composed. Vash isn’t fighting against the force of his gun, he follows it with the confidence and poise of a dancer on stage.

And speaking of dancing just look at how Vash makes Knives dance over puddles! Vash has impeccable aim yet he deliberately chooses to shoot in areas that could stun or stumble Knives, knowing he could block the shots, and distract him as he goes behind the corner.

Remember how I said lining up sideways is how you shoot properly? Here he’s firing straight forward using the corner as his shield. Had he not been holding a ticking bomb in his hand he would probably rest the gun on his other hand like he normally does on the rock jutting out.

The second he fired his last shot he dips down to reload and LOOK AT THAT!!

He is practicing proper trigger discipline again!!

You do NOT keep your finger on the trigger when loading in order to prevent misfire. That is BASIC SHOOTING SAFETY!!

And he does this throughout the fight!

When he turns away from Knives to make his way to the corner he lets go of the trigger before he turns back around to fire at him!

He can only hold 8 bullets in that gun and he will make each one count!

He can NOT afford to misfire.

Why??

Because that bullet he loaded was going STRAIGHT FOR KNIVES! Vash is NOT messing around! At this angle it looks like he aimed and could’ve hit Knives' NECK which would be super hard to dodge close range. Knives would have to bend backwards like he did here to dodge.

Shout out to everyone at Orange for the incredible work put into Vash and his shooting! There’s so much care into this show I can’t wait to see more!

Bonus: while we’re here, let’s get into Vash’s stellar reloads starting with this one (my absolute favorite) :

Remember how I said Vash was being a cocky little shit to Knives earlier?

Yeah this is it at it’s peak.

Faced forward, standing still til the last second, and very slowly reloading so Knives hears all 8 clicks before flying out the window.

This is just being mean lol XD

It's because we KNOW he can reload fast! The gif below might be faster by half a second but it's still RIDICULOUS compared to the first one:

Hell, he’s put individual bullets in the chamber midair and slammed a container of them in the SAME FLIGHT! MIDAIR!!!

He did NOT have to mess with Knives like that! Dude's flexin' hard.

In any case, I can’t recommend this show enough! The amount of work and detail put into not just Vash’s skills as a marksman but the acting and storytelling - everything is superb!! What an amazing experience!

Thanks again Studio Orange and Nightow! See you again, soon!

[carmyberzattosjournal]

Entry 16: Well-Versed Pas De Deux

Screenshot Credit: @neverscreens

Bearblr Promptober Day 16: Bonfire

Summary: Carmy is struggling with menu changes for the next month, his girlfriend (who he calls Darling) reminds him of the bonfire they were supposed to attend, and she does a little thing that gets right under his skin. Smut.

Warnings: Smut, swearing, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, mention of family trauma, mention of The Devil (aka Chef David), fem reader who is a trauma surgeon, she/her pronouns.

Notes: All journal entries will be titled as such and tagged with #cb journal.

Thank you for reading. Thank you to @carmenberzattosgf for putting together this prompt list. If you want to keep following this set of works, you can follow the #cb journal tag.

Also, if random letters or words are white instead of the colors they should be, that's Tumblr being dumb, I've been fighting it for days.

Sideblog for commentary and yapping: @m-z-shoroi

16 Oct 2024

My apartment, now back up to two bad radiators (this is how I’m keeping track of time anymore, how many radiators are still working. These fucking pieces of shit can go burn in hell with the landlord. I swear to God, I’m having nightmares of them breaking at critical moments, this is stupid as fuck. RADIATORS.). I’m at the dining table with three half-formed dishes for the November menu changes staring at me—one of them was the duck with apple glaze that Tina proposed, I’m pretty sure. The others? No idea. This head’s a colander. I don’t know how I do anything, for fuck’s sake. Best chef award, my ass.

“Carmy? Baby?” Darling’s voice ripped me out of my thoughts.

She hovered between the kitchen and living room. Had going-out clothes on, that sweater with the—were they cables? I think they’re called cables—her fleece-lined jeans that she patched the knee of with flannel from a very old shirt of mine, hat. Holding a scarf.

“Hm? Sorry. Sorry, I’m… fuck.” I dragged my hands through my hair, rubbed my eyes. “Sorry, these menu changes are killing me. I didn’t hear a word you said, I’m so sorry.”

She shuffled over, wrapped her arms around me. “It’s okay; it happens.”

I nuzzled her sweater. Took a deep inhale of her scent.

“I was asking if you still want to go to the bonfire.”

Bonfire? My stomach dropped through the floor. Fuck, that was today, wasn’t it?

“Shit.” I looked at the clock. 7:09 pm.

“It’s okay, we’ll still make it on time if we leave in 15 minutes. If you still want to go.”

“I-I don’t, uh—fuck.” Shit. My face flooded with warmth. Shit, I even had it in my calendar, how the fuck did I forget? I pressed the heels of my hands into my cheekbones as if I could somehow physically force the heat back out of my face. Or maybe covering my eyes makes me feel safer, somehow? I don’t know, that’s a question for the eventual therapist (who I feel bad for, by the way. Fucking hell, therapy is going to suck).

Darling brushed her hand up and down my sternum. “Hey, hey, breathe.”

I heaved a breath. My head spun.

“I want to hear about the menu, but if you’re going to go, you should decide now so we can leave on time.”

“I-I don’t know? I don’t know, I need to think.” I didn’t mean to hiss it between my teeth. My face got warmer. Now my chest felt warm, like I’d just opened an oven.

I don’t know that I’ll ever be able to appropriately appreciate the silence Darling offers me. Like in that moment, she alerted me to being pressed for time, but then she just gave me runway to think, to broil under my own skin for a bit and then come to the realization that the sky isn’t falling and that whatever pitchfork crowd I conjured in my anxiety-riddled mind didn’t exist. I didn’t even realize that’s what was going on with me at the time—why I involuted and imploded so ferociously when I perceived myself fucking up. A lifetime of violent retaliation for mistakes meant that even when the logical part of my mind knew that I wouldn’t be pierced with verbal javelins, or have to dodge something thrown at me, or assuage a tsunami of an emotional assault, I got wound up like they were coming. Those cavernous scars ran to the bone. And band-aids and skin glue wouldn’t fix the damage all the way down.

And Darling knew that, too.

“I, um. I’m-I’m not sure about going,” I managed. My breaths were short, bit like that time I had pneumonia as a kid, but the burning in my face had subsided.

“Do you want to go?”

How was I supposed to answer that? The apple glaze for the duck could use some brightness. Not acidity. Maybe something herbal? Lemon zest?

Wait, she asked me a question.

“Shit. Uh, I-I don’t know. I mean, it’d be nice, but these fucking menu changes.” I nudged the plates away from me. “Fuck my life…”

She hooked my chin and turned my gaze up to her. “Can I make a proposal, pretty boy?”

Something warm stirred in the pit of my stomach at hearing her call me that again. Fuck, she looked gorgeous. Had this little sparkle in her eyes because of the way the lights came through the blinds, put on lipstick for the first time in a while, and damn if it didn’t make her look like a million dollars. If it didn’t bring out the lively, rich color in her face, the love in her smile. Her necklace—did she say it was some kind of pearls? Vintage?—shimmering white, shifting iridescent tones, landed half a centimeter above the notch between her collarbones as if the best architect in the world composed this masterpiece of visual design.

“Please,” I whispered. Please, you have all of my attention. Every last thread of it. Please, please, for the love of whatever the fuck you believe in, call me pretty boy again.

“Take your notebook with you, hm?” She ran her fingers through my hair. “I’ll drive on the way over, so you can write down any ideas that come up. You might have some ideas at the bonfire itself—you know, the smell of the flames, the food there. And if you need it, you can always head to the car and write in the quiet.”

I took her hand and pressed my lips to her palm. Soft. A bit cooler in temperature. “I should get out, huh?”

“A change of scenery might be helpful for you right now. And I do want to go.”

I nodded, pressed one last kiss to her palm. “Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

Mother of pearl.

That’s what her necklace was made of.

…..

The bonfire didn’t give me many ideas, but Syd did.

“Is there any other way to brighten the apple glaze?” she asked. “Like do you have to add something?”

Some of Darling’s friends had organized this little thing, some kind of Fall tradition for them. I was her plus one. Upsides: quieter than a big public thing; at night, so plenty of chances to Irish Goodbye into the shadows (is that offensive?); trees nearby, so I could just become a tree man (there’s a word for this. Darling told me, I’ll write it in if I remember. Cryptid. That’s the word) in the middle of it all, I guess. Downsides: more intimate setting, so higher expectation to socialize; at night, so who even knew what beasts and ghouls lurked in the shadows; and the trees were suffocatingly gigantic. I could get crushed by trying to look up at them. Also, several people stared at me like I was a rack of lamb, and it made me deeply uncomfortable. It did start getting a bit raucous about 30 minutes in, and I’d sent a (cryptic, now that I think about it) text to Sydney on the drive over, so she called me at the perfect time for me to duck out and get a break.

So, there I was, about 15 feet away from the bonfire, crouched against a tree to give my back a break, chill of the night air starting to creep under and around my jacket, watching Darling laugh at a good story, meeting her eyes to check in, watching her, meeting her eyes.

“What, like, take something away?”

Like The Devil told me to do?

“Yeah, or, like, maybe try a different type of apple or a different sort of… I don’t know.” She sighed. “We sure we wanna stick to an apple glaze?”

“It’s a solid idea. And it was Tina’s.” I was determined to make it work. She’d done too much for me to not try to make it work. “Finely diced green apples? Orange zest? I could try taking out the cinnamon.”

“What’s that gonna do?”

“It’ll take out the bass note. Cinnamon sits low in the palate, it’s-it’s a bass note. Means we get more tenor.”

“I’m sorry, are you using music terms?” Ugh, I could hear her smiling.

Warmth pricked at my cheeks. I hate that my voice came out so small when I said, “It’s how I think.”

Sydney either didn’t notice or decided not to aggravate the situation. “Okay. So, take out the cinnamon.”

Darling tilted her head at me.

“Yeah. I’ll give it a try. I, uh, I gotta go, Darling needs me.”

“Oh. Yeah, sure. Let me know how menu goes tomorrow, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

I headed back over to the bonfire. She offered me a s’more—very needed, fucking hell, I just needed some junk food sometimes to reset after sampling duck and bluefin and wagyu so much. Cheap chocolate, half-stale baking spices, half-charred fake vanilla. Caramelized sugar. Sharp snap of graham cracker, the bubbly warmth of melted marshmallow. She swept a bit of melted chocolate from my lip. Sucked it off her thumb.

Had no fucking idea how bad it wrecked me.

Not until we got back home, and I needed to get clothes off and yank her forward by her belt loop and impatiently shove her hands towards my hair. She giggled that saccharine melody, tangled her fingers through my curls, and then screeched in surprised delight when I just picked her up and marched straight for the bedroom.

“Carmy! Goodness!”

My kisses were sloppy because I couldn’t stop grinning. “Don’t wake the neighbors.”

Maybe it was the 4 sips of cheap whiskey I had at the bonfire.

She yanked off my t-shirt and coiled around me, her skin cool against mine, while I made short work of the rest of our clothes.

“God, you’re so warm all the time,” she mumbled, nuzzling my shoulder.

I found a few moments to slow back down. To just enjoy how her skin felt on mine, how her body fit perfectly right in my hands. Traced over the round of her hip, the curve of her thighs, palmed at her perfect tits.

“No, no,” she said, pulling back to smirk at me. “You’re supposed to be fucking me right now.”

I kissed her. “You’re cute.”

“You’re hot.” She untangled herself from me and flopped onto the bed, stretching her arms like a satisfied cat. Faint light spilling in from the windows cast these deep, pitchlike shadows over her form, highlighting, in breathtaking contrast, every feature on her face, every facet of her architecture. Should I have thought about it any further, I might’ve absorbed the sight longer, embedded it in my mind, attempted to recapture it at the end of my pencil, but her giggle drew my attention.

“Now rail me already.”

I appreciate her bluntness so much.

She tensioned fistfuls of my hair when I trailed wet kisses up the inside of her thigh. Draped her other leg over my shoulder with practiced ease. This is a familiar dance, a well-versed pas de deux. One where I paint my hand up and down that thigh on my shoulder to soothe her when my lips finally meet her cunt, and she lets out that whimper that cinches the tight, burning, merciless heat of arousal deep in my navel. Where she breathlessly begs and whimpers and whines my name when she’s wracked by an orgasm on my tongue, more so when she’s ruined under me with her legs tight around my waist, tight enough to leave bruises along my hip bones, for me to feel sore when moving around the kitchen the next day—reminders of her, like the scratches I’d get, the lipstick stains I’d guard under my clothes and that I’d try to keep around as long as they’d last.

Maybe it was just love, by the way.

That’s an option, you know, Carmen. You just love her that much.

“I’m so close,” she mumbled. Her fingernails worried sore spots on my scalp, but I couldn’t find it in me to stop her from doing it. She was so tight around my fingers, so wet on my tongue, so hot—I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to it. I don’t want to get used to it.

I withdrew my fingers, and she tugged particularly hard on my hair. “No, no, don’t stop,” she wailed.

“Ow, baby girl, too hard.”

She let go immediately, pet my face to apologize. “But I’m… oh…”

I’d crawled onto the bed. She pulled herself up towards the headboard, coiled her limbs around me and yanked me down into a starved kiss.

“Fuck me already, please, pretty boy.”

Who was I not to oblige?

[topazadine]

How to Write Faster (And, Hopefully, Better Too)

Estimated Reading Time: 7 minutes

I've shared some tools before to help improve your speed and motivation, which include:

Using a word count spreadsheet

Working on only one WIP at a time

Leverage StimuWrite and Cold Turkey

.... but I still have a few more tricks, which I'll share now.

Why should you listen to me? I've written over 2 million words of fiction since 2021. That's a lot, more than many people write in a lifetime.

This is despite the fact that I also write 22,000 words every week for my day job. I do around 10k of creative fiction a week. And there's also the time I spend writing these articles for you, the lovely people of Tumblr, which is around 4-5k per week.

So, all told, I probably do around 37,000 words (creative, informative, and otherwise) every single week.

I did that by following these tips.

Separate the work into stages.

First, let's outline the stages of work (or at least the stages I use). You may have a different setup, and that's fine - if you do have a system that works for you, then you probably don't need my post at all. Keep doing what you're doing and ignore my advice.

But if you do not have a system, consider mentally separating things into these parts.

Active Writing. When I am busy doing the draft. It is both the most precarious and productive time; everything else related to books goes on the backburner. I am doing nothing writing-related but writing. No discussing the work unless I'm stuck somewhere, no making moodboards, NOTHING. This is my sacred time when I am in the thick of things and I put Writing Blinders on.

Percolation. I am done with the first draft. I set the piece aside and do other things like reading other novels, outlining another story, answering tag games, playing with moodboards, or putting everything aside and focusing on other hobbies. This is so I can come back to revisions with a fresh set of eyes. It keeps the story in my mind and can even help me discover new things I want to add.

Revision. After I have had a beta reader check things out, I go back and start fixing things. Then it percolates again. I repeat percolating and revising as many times as I feel necessary. Many times, I will have one beta reader look at it, then revise, and then have another beta reader look at it, each one getting a slightly different version of the story so I can compare what they liked or disliked.

Prepublishing. Most authors' least favorite part: marketing and telling people about your book so that they want to read it when it is ready. That includes stuff like making mood boards, doing tag games, sending out ARCs, setting up adds, posting on social media, and so on.

Again, ONE STEP AT A TIME. Do not blend all of these into a slurry.

I will say that this time around, with Pride Before a Fall, I ordered the cover before I was done with the book because I had a very clear vision of what I wanted.

Talk less, write more.

This is similar to the problem I highlighted in my Double Outlining post; the more you talk about your story, the more you trick your brain into thinking that you've done the work when you categorically have not.

Plus, the time you spend talking about your book is time you spend not writing your book. We can't do both simultaneously.

I don't really talk about my stories while I'm doing them, not even with my family. I may post a line or two, and I may tell people the basic plot, but I'm not spending hours discussing them with anyone unless I need advice on what to do next. Even then, it's more like "hey what do you think about this? Good? Cool, off I go."

Please get out of the habit of exhaustively picking apart your work with other people during the Active Writing stage. That can come during the Percolating and Revising stages.

Devote all your love and attention to one story.

Yes, I've mentioned this in a whole entire post, but I need to emphasize just how important it is to write stories one at a time. Working on a million things at once is not efficient; it's scatterbrained.

Force yourself to do ONE story. Just one. Not two or three or five. ONE.

Again, I've written 132 stories on AO3 (two of which are 100k+, multiple of which are 50k+), published one book, and written 5 of the upcoming manuscripts for the 10-part Eirenic Verses series. I am a very productive writer, and that is because I do everything one at a time.

Don't tell yourself "oh, I can get more done if I do a little bit on this one and that one and that one."

Can a chess player win three games of chess if they play all of them simultaneously? Uh, probably not. Each of their opponents is devoting everything to one game while their concentration is split between three different boards.

And you're not going to win either if you're playing twenty games of Write the Book simultaneously.

Do not mess around with moodboards, tag games, character questionnaires, playlists, etc, during Active Writing.

I discussed this in my Extremely Controversial Writing Opinions, but it bears repeating.

Do all of that stuff later, after you are done, as a marketing tool. It's procrastination, plain and simple.

Any time I get sucked into tag games or moodboards while writing, I get less done because I'm devoting time and energy to something that doesn't actually enhance my book.

It's one thing to do character questionnaires while you're figuring out a character, but quite another to stop what you're doing and tell everyone what your character's favorite food is.

Is that helping you get the project done? No, it is not. Log out of Canva. Turn on Cold Turkey to block Tumblr or Twitter. Leave that stuff alone.

Read short stories.

You know you need to read to become a good writer, but taking hours out of your day to read a novel while you're drafting your own novel can take away from your writing process.

That's not to say you shouldn't ever read novels, of course, but you can do that while you're in between projects.

During my active writing phase, I like to read a short story before I get started on working. This gives me inspiration and primes my creative pump so I'm excited to do my best.

Reading short stories also helps me focus on brevity rather than long-winded diatribes, which lets me pack more into a story.

Don't reread your work during Active Writing.

It's easy to get sucked into rereading and then not get anything new done; plus, this makes you want to revise, which should come later.

Reread only as much as you need to fix plot holes or remind yourself of where you're going. Refusing to reread also lets you look at your work with fresh eyes during revisions.

Make a writing ritual.

You need to tell your brain that it is writing time. This could be anything, like brushing your teeth right before you sit down to write, or drinking coffee out of one specific coffee cup when you are in writing mode, or putting on a playlist that you only use when writing.

For me, I light incense and ring a bell, then ask my muses to help me. When I take a break, I'll light a new incense stick (it's Japanese incense so very light scent) and ring the bell again.

That's about it, though I may write another post with more tips. I hope these are helpful to you, even if you don't like them. Sit on them, think about it, and give it a try. You might find yourself spending more time writing and less time just thinking about writing.

I've created a masterlist of writing resources that you can peruse at your leisure, all for free.

The posts I write can sometimes take me hours - they're always intricate, always thoughtful. This one took me about 1 hour to write.

I do this as a labor of love for the writing community, sharing what I have learned from almost 15 years of creative writing.

However, if you'd like to support me, maybe you'll consider buying my book?

9 Years Yearning is a gay coming-of-age romance set in a fantasy world. It follows Uileac Korviridi, a young soldier training at the War Academy. His primary motivations are honoring the memory of his late parents, protecting his little sister Cerie, and becoming a top-notch soldier.

The book features poetry, descriptions of a beautiful country inspired by Mongolia, and a whole lot of tsundere vibes.

You can also check it out on Goodreads for a list of expanded distribution.

If you do purchase my book, don't forget to leave a review!

Reviews are vital for visibility on Amazon and help to support indie authors like me. Whenever you love a book, be sure to let the author know! It's much appreciated.