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rebelwrites · 8 months ago

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Twenty Six: He’s Gone

Charles Leclerc x Nova Teller (OC)

Till the wheels fall off Masterlist

Small town meets the fast lane. What happens when two souls meet? Will it end in happiness or will they both crash and burn?

Once again I’m sorry

As always reblogs and feedback is highly appreciated ❤️ if you want tagging in future parts let me know ❤️

Staring into the darkness I just felt numb, in a matter of hours everything had come crashing down on the family. I refused to believe that the man that saved my life, the person I looked up to and the one I ran to in my time of need was now gone. Nothing could stop this pain, I had dealt with a lot of heartbreak in my life but this was by far the worst. I felt like I had just watched someone cut my heart out of my chest, ripping it to pieces followed by setting it on fire in the process.

“Nova, sweetie, can you come in here for a second,” Pascale called from the living room.

Letting out a heavy sigh I slowly kicked the kitchen chair away from my body as I stood up. I felt like I had lead bricks tied to my feet, weighing me down with every step I took.

The moment my gaze locked onto my brother’s expression I found myself struggling to hold back tears, I could count on one hand the amount of times I saw Jax cry so seeing him this broken was like someone was stabbing me in the gut.

He roughly wiped his eyes with the back of his hands before lifting the blanket up signaling for me to join him and Elenor. Shuffling across the room I found myself flopping on the sofa, resting my head on my older brother’s shoulder trying not to break down for the millionth time this evening. I honestly didn’t know how I was still producing tears.

“I know you are both hurting right now,” Pascale said softly as she perched on the edge of the coffee table, “I am not going to tell you your feelings are invalid because we all grieve in different ways, so do what you need to do,” she paused, resting her hand on my knee. “Drink a whole bottle of whiskey, get high, punch things but please stay in the house where I know you are both safe.”

Taking a deep breath I flashed her the weakest smile, I was so grateful she was here, I honestly don’t know how we would have coped if it was just the three of us. The sound of my phone vibrating on the wooden table was the only noise that echoed through the room. Pascale slowly picked the device up before holding it out to me. “C'est Char, ma chérie. Ne le repousse pas, laisse-le être la force dont tu as besoin maintenant. It’s Char, my dear. Don't push him away, let him be the strength you need right now.” she whispered.

I knew she was right but how was I meant to tell him the Pops had died, I was struggling to form words to Pascale and Jax. Reaching out I took my phone off her before pushing myself to my feet. My heart sank when I realized Charles was facetiming me, there was no way I could try and hide anything. Part of me didn’t want to tell him what had happened because he needed to keep his focus on today’s qualifying, however deep in my heart I knew he needed to know.

Soon enough Charles’ face appeared on my screen, his smile was as bright as the sun but his expression quickly changed when he took in my appearance. I knew I looked like I had been dragged through the bushes, my hair was sticking all over the place and my eyes were red and puffy from the hours of crying.

“Nova, que s'est-il passé ? Parle-moi. Nova, what happened? Talk to me,” he said softly, with a concerned look on his face.

“He’s go-” my bottom lip started quivering as the word got caught in my throat, the thought of saying it made it real, leaning my phone against the bottle of beer on the kitchen counter I covered my face with my hands as my body shook from the sobs. I tried to steady my breathing before I spoke again, I desperately needed him here with me but he was practically the other side of the world, in Japan, “he’s gone Char, he’s fucking gone.”

“Sunshine, who’s gone?” he asked quietly.

“Pops.” I cried, refusing to look at the screen.

Charles found himself frozen on the spot, it was like someone had just pressed a mute button and the buzz of the garage suddenly disappeared. He couldn’t believe what his girlfriend had just told him, running his hand over his face he tried his hardest to blink back tears but it was no use. He didn’t care if the cameras caught him as he barged past the mechanics trying to get out of the crowd. Once he was alone in his driver room he slumped down onto the floor, “Babygirl, I am so fucking sorry,” Charles cried, knotting his fingers in his hair. “I can’t believe it.”

“I don’t know what to do Char,” Nova sobbed.

The sound of her heartbreak was crushing Charles, knowing he was what felt like a million miles away, when his girl needed him the most. Before he met Nova all that mattered was racing but now he didn’t give a shit about today’s qualifying nor the race tomorrow, he needed to be back in Charming with the person who meant the world to him.

His heart sank as he let his last conversation with JT play over and over in his head, it was something he was glad he got to do, especially because he knew how much JT meant to Nova.

The pair of them sat in silence both with tears streaming down their cheeks.

“Fuck, I was only on the phone with him yesterday,” the Monégasque breathed, looking up at the ceiling trying to hold it together the best he could for Nova, but he was failing drastically. “He seemed absolutely fine.”

“What, what do you mean Char?” Nova whimpered, causing Charles to look down at the screen.

Taking a breath he shook his head, he couldn’t tell her the reason for the phone call, he had the perfect plan in his head, although the news of JT might cause him to change things slightly. “I was just checking in on him,” he whispered, trying to not reveal the truth, silently hoping that Nova wouldn’t ask too many more questions.

Charles found himself wandering aimlessly around the garage, his phone pressed against his ear, hoping he caught JT on a good day especially with the question he was wanting to ask.

After four rings the cheery voice of JT came through the device.

“Aren’t you meant to be getting ready for free practice?” he chuckled, causing a large smile to appear on Charles’ face. His body sagged in relief as JT was making jokes over the traditional greeting.

“I swear I am getting in the car very soon, this just couldn’t wait,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck with the palm of his hand. His heart was pounding against his chest, for some reason he was petrified that JT was going to say no and his hopes and dreams would come crashing down around him.

“The camera just panned over to you and they are making jokes about this being such an important call it’s delayed you getting into the car,” JT chuckled, Charles could feel the warmth coming through the phone.

“This kinda is an important phone call,” Charles breathed, letting his eyes flutter closed as the words fell from his lips. “I have something to ask and I think this is going to be the second most important question I will ever ask.”

He could picture JT sitting there with an amused look on his face with a raised eyebrow, “You know I am intrigued now son, what is the most important question?” JT hummed, the tone of his voice told Charles he knew what was coming.

Charles took a deep breath before responding, “asking your daughter to marry me,” he paused, trying to calm his racing heart down a little, “she is the one for me, I want her to be my wife, more than I want to win the championship. So JT I am asking for your blessing for Nova’s hand in marriage.”

He was met with silence, causing his mind to race. His stomach was churning as he waited patiently for a response. “Boy, it’s taken you long enough to ask.” Charles was a little taken back by the response, he was worried that because he hadn’t been dating Nova long it would be a red flag to JT but here he was joking about the time it took. “I knew you were the one for my little girl the moment I introduced you to her.”

Charles’ heart fluttered hearing JT speak. A large smile appeared on his face as he glanced around the garage, holding his finger up to Andrea signaling he would only be a minute. “I am so glad you said that, because I already have the ring.”

JT paused for a moment before speaking, “I’m glad to know my sweet angel will be taken care of when I’m gone.” Charles could hear him choking on his words as he spoke, in fact hearing JT talk about when he was gone instantly brought tears to the Monégasque’s eyes. “Thank you for making her so happy, I haven’t seen her this cheerful in years.”

“Now JT, there isn’t any need to be saying shit like that, I don’t think you are going anywhere for a long time old man, plus Nova wouldn’t let you anyway,” Charles said with a small chuckle trying to lighten the conversation.

Hiding his face in his hand, there was no way he could go out and race, not now. He knew he would just end up putting the car into the wall and that was the last thing anyone needed, especially Nova.

The sound of someone knocking on the door gained Charles attention, causing him to look up as Andrea’s face appeared. “Charles, on a besoin de toi dans la voiture dans cinq minutes. Charles, we need you in the car in five minutes.” Andrea said with a large smile which quickly fell when he saw the state of Charles.

Charles took a deep breath, looking back at his phone, “Sunshine, I gotta go,” he hummed,

Nova flashed him a weak watery smile. “Please stay safe out there, Char,” she cried, roughly wiping away her tears with the back of her hand. “I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you too.”

“Je ne vais nulle part, bébé. I'm not going anywhere, baby,” he whispered, “I love you.”

“I love you too, Char. Get pole and win this one for Pops.”

The call came to an end, Charles took a moment to steady his breathing before pushing himself to his feet. “I need to find Fred,” he mumbled, causing Andrea to flash him a worried look. “Nova’s dad passed away last night.”

The moment the words left his lips he felt like someone had just stabbed a knife through his chest.

“Oh Char, I am so sorry,” Andrea said quietly, placing his hand on his shoulder. “Fred is out on the pitwall, do you want me to go get him, saves you being hounded by the media.”

“If you don’t mind,” Charles sighed, wiping his eyes with the sleeve of his fireproof top.

Andrea quickly disappeared from the doorway of the small room leaving Charles alone with his thoughts. His heart was in a million pieces right now, JT was an amazing man. Even though he had only known him for a short period of time he welcomed him and Pierre into his life with open arms. Suddenly the door burst open revealing his best friend standing in the opening, looking exactly how Charles thought he looked.

“Get your shit, we are going,” he gasped, like he had ran the length of the pitlane to get to Charles. “Jax just texted me, told me what had happened,” Pierre whispered, trying to hold back tears. Before Charles could speak Fred appeared by Pierre’s side, Charles had no idea how he would react to him dropping out of the race but he didn’t care either way he was getting on the first flight from Japan to California.

It was as if the words were caught in Charles’ throat, “I’m not racing,” he finally managed to spit out. He was struggling to explain to Fred what the situation was due to the tears that wouldn’t stop falling. Luckily Pierre stepped in to update the Ferrari team principal.

“Why are you still here?” Fred asked, cocking his brow at his number one driver. “Get your ass on the next plane.” Charles was a little taken back, he didn’t expect Fred to respond like this. “We will get Rob in the car, luckily he has already done FP1 this weekend so we aren’t breaking any rules. Go be with Nova, she needs you more than I do right now.”

@withmyteeth @chibsytelford @stillbreathin @danzer8705 @keyweegirlie @burningcupcakefire @dragon-of-winterfell @ohthemisssery @a-distantdreamer @sgkophie @angywritesstuff @enchantedbytomandhenry @scribbuluswrites @dangerouspursepeachbear @buendiabebeta @ferrarifwendvale @theplobnrgone @charlesleclercje @queenslife @panicforspec @justme2042 @liv67 @derpinathebrave @clcspeonies @pleasantducktimetravel @raaaaabzzz @mehrmonga @sbgal @fangirl-lb @pitconfirmbutton @oslokij @tall-tanned-tattoo @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @pumpkin-spice-hate @talicat713 @band--psycho @little-diable @i-love-scott-mccall @fourthwallhateclub @theysayitscrazy @rosieposie0624 @choochoo284 @meteora-fc @beeroses @darklydeliciousdesires @the-jer-bear @extraneousred @youflickedtooharddamnit @babypink224221

#Charles Leclerc #Charles Leclerc x oc #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x female reader #sons of anarchy #jax teller #jax teller x reader #jax teller imagine #sons of anarchy imagine #sons of anarchy x reader

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allthesmutl0vers · 3 months ago

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The Weight of Blood: Tom/Theo/Draco/Regulus/Fem!Reader (Part Two)

MDNI,18+,NSFW Reblogs and comments are always appreciated. Masterlist Pairing: Tom Riddle/Theo Nott/Draco Malfoy/Regulus Black/Fem!Reader TW: Abusive Relationship, Anxiety Attack, Mentions of Death, Non-Con Touching, Violence, Mentions of Past SA, Cursing. (See the first post for a complete list of trigger warnings for the whole story here)

Chapter Two

Y/n

One Week Later

“Have a good night, Madam Irma,” I say politely as she gathers her things. She’s opted to have me close the library on Friday and Saturday nights, even paying me to do it, which is kind of her.

She waves behind her. “Goodnight, dear!” She calls out as she leaves the library and I grab the cart of books to re-stock.

I let out a content sigh as I push the cart through the aisles. Cormac hasn’t really been bothering me. He’s been too busy sneaking around with other girls, which should make me upset. But I can’t help but think of it as a reprieve. He’s only forced me to take him one night this week, and he was so drunk he couldn’t even finish. Maybe he’s ready to end things, but given how he reacted the last time I brought it up, I’ll just let him end it.

I’m humming a tune to myself when someone grabs me from behind and spins me, pushing me back against the bookshelf. “Hello, sweetheart,” Cormac slurs drunkenly.

“Cormac,” I say in a gasp. “W-what are you doing here?” I ask.

Cormac leans against the shelf, hovering over me and allowing me to smell the Firewhisky on his clothes. “Came to see what’s so interesting about the library. You’ve been avoiding me,” he slurs as he slides his hand under my skirt. “Are you fucking around behind my back?” He asks angrily as he cups my pussy.

“What? No, I would never,” I respond, trying to move away from his hand. “Cormac, you’re drunk,” I tell him like he’ll care. He grabs my panties, tearing them in a drunken stupor. “Cormac! Stop!” I cry out as I try to push him away.

His free hand lands on my face with a hard slap before he grabs my throat, cutting off my oxygen. “You don’t tell me no,” he seethes, forcing his fingers inside of me even though I’m not wet, the friction making me cry out in pain.

“C-C-,” I try to choke out around his grip on my throat, hitting his arms as my vision starts to blur.

“HEY!” Someone shouts, and Cormac’s hand is pulled from my throat, letting me suck in a breath of air as I fall to my knees, choking for oxygen.

I look up to see Cormac on the ground, a figure on top of him, punching him over and over again until his face is a bloody pulp. The figure pulls out a lit cigarette, pushing the lit end to Cormac’s face and making him scream and kick drunkenly. The cigarette is pulled away, and the figure holds Cormac up by the collar of his now bloodied shirt. “When a woman says ‘stop,’ she means stop, fucking git,” he emphasizes by slamming the back of Cormac’s head into the ground with a crack.

The figure stands, taking a drag from the cigarette in his hand as he looks down at Cormac. I can’t see anything besides the back of their tall figure and a head of wavy brown hair. “Well, shit,” the person mutters to themself, shaking their head. “Now, what am I to do with you?”

“You— you can’t smoke in here,” is all I manage to get out.

The stranger chuckles, shaking his head before he turns to me, and I see it’s Regulus. “I can do whatever I damn well please,” he says with a smirk as he looks down at me. “Come on,” he says, stretching out his hand and making me flinch. “Bloody hell, I’m not going to hit you. Stand up,” he says with an annoyed huff.

I swallow and accept his hand with a nod. “Thank you, sorry,” I mutter as he pulls me to a standing position.

“Don’t be sorry,” he says flatly as I look down at Cormac on the ground with his eyes closed.

“Is… Is he dead?” I ask, letting go of Regulus’s hand and wrapping my arms around myself.

“Do you want him to be?” Regulus asks cooly as he takes another drag off his cigarette.

My eyes widen in shock as I look at Regulus leaning up against the shelf like he didn’t just offer to kill someone. “Of course not!” It has to be the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard someone offer.

“Pity,” he shrugs. “He deserves it.”

I shake my head and reach for Cormac’s arm when Regulus grabs mine to stop me. “And just what do you think you’re doing?”

My eyebrows furrow in confusion. “We have to get him to the hospital wing, Black.”

“Why?” Genuine confusion paints his face as he looks down at me, still holding onto my arm.

I pull my arm away and take a step back. “Are you serious? He could have a brain injury. He could die if we leave him here!”

“So?” He throws his cigarette down on the ground, smothering it out with his shoe.

“You’re a monster,” I mutter in disbelief, shaking my head.

Regulus laughs. “Says the one with a handprint bruise around her neck and her panties torn to shreds,” he cocks an eyebrow. He steps closer, his eyes darkening. “Are you really going to sit here and defend him after what he did to you?”

“It wasn’t what it looked like,” I turn to look away, hugging myself as tears well in my eyes.

“You mean rape?” His tone softens a little but stays firm.

I curse myself for the sniffle I make, trying to keep the tears at bay. I didn’t want anyone to know, and now someone who could very well blab to his friends and, in turn, the whole school, finds out. What am I going to tell the nurse when she asks? The headmaster?

My mind swirls a million miles an hour. I could get kicked out. I’ll be the laughingstock of the school. I already picture the horrible things people will say.

‘She was found in the library with her panties torn, such a slut.’

‘She must be a whore. Do you see the bruises? She must like it rough.’

‘She shouldn’t have led him on.’

‘Did you see what she was wearing? I’d do the same thing.’

Whore, slut, coward, the names run through my mind like a freight train. The same things I’ve said about myself, called myself almost every day. The only thing that can begin to quiet the thoughts racing through my mind only proves that Regulus is right.

Cormac raped me.

Not just once, not just tonight. Repeatedly.

“Y/n!” Someone shakes me, pulling me away from my thoughts. I blink a few times and realize I’m sitting on the floor, not knowing how I got here. And Cormac’s body is gone. Did I just imagine all of that?

“Y/n!” Someone shouts my name again. Regulus. He’s crouched right in front of me, making eye contact with me. “Bloody hell, woman.” He shakes his head, his hands on my shoulders.

“I— What happened? Where’s Cormac?” I ask, looking at the spot where he was lying. There’s a bit of blood spattered on the floor, so I know I didn’t make it up. I’m sore from where he forced his fingers inside of me, and a gentle breeze brushes my core. I pull my skirt down as far as I can, hoping that Regulus didn’t see anything, that he didn’t touch me, too.

Regulus sighs. “I was hoping you could tell me. You just sat down and,” he shakes his head. “It’s like you completely checked out. I tried talking to you, but… It was like you were just a shell. It was bloody terrifying.”

I had an anxiety attack. Right in front of someone. Great.

I stand up, seeing a black and green robe fall from my lap. “Did you cover me…?” I mutter.

Regulus runs a hand through his hair, grabs his robe, and stands up to put it back on. “Figured you wouldn’t want anyone to see you without panties,” he shrugs.

I nod, still coming out of my attack, as I take a few steps away from him and turn back. “Wait, you said anyone? Who else was here?”

“Theo and Draco got him to the infirmary. He’ll live,” he lights another cigarette. “Though, I do wish you would’ve let me finish him off,” he takes a long drag and blows the smoke out over his head. “As for the robe, yes, I covered you so nobody would see you lost your panties.”

I look around for them on the floor. “Where did they go?”

“What?”

“My panties, Black!” I start to panic again as my heart starts to race. I can’t let anyone find them.

“Simmer down. They’re in the trash,” he rolls off of the shelf and puts an arm on my shoulder, making me flinch. “Would you quit flinching? Merlin, you’d think he beat you every day,” he rolls his eyes, keeping his hand on my shoulder.

I push his hand off of me. “He d—” I cut myself off and shake my head as I start to walk to the broom closet for a mop to clean up the blood.

“Come again?” Regulus follows me, spinning me around by my arm as I reach the closet.

“Forget it,” I roll my eyes. “It’s none of your damn business.”

“Not bloody likely. Considering I nearly beat the lad to death,” he flicks his cigarette out of the window.

“You shouldn’t litter.”

“You shouldn’t deflect, but here we are,” he retorts. “Just how often did shit like this happen?” His eyebrows furrow.

I open my mouth to answer, but nothing comes out. “Tell me,” his voice hardens.

“It doesn’t matter. Just leave it alone,” I turn back to the broom closet and open the door. “The library is closed. You need to leave.”

“Not until you tell me.”

I don’t need to look at him to know he’s not going to back down, and I curse myself for everything that has happened to get me into the situation I’m in. “If I tell you, you’ll leave?” I start filling up the mop bucket.

“Yes.”

I sigh and close my eyes in defeat. “Not every day.”

“Then how often?”

My jaw clenches as all of the memories come rushing back. “A few times a week, or whenever I pissed him off or tried to turn him down,” I shrug. I don’t know why he’s so damn concerned. He’s not even in my house. He doesn’t even know me.

“So he’s raped you before?”

“I thought you were leaving?” I put the mop in the bucket, still refusing to face him.

“That’s not a no.”

“It’s not rape if you’re dating,” I repeat the same words I’ve told myself over and over again after the first time it happened like a mantra.

“Oh, little lamb.”

I feel a few tears slide down my cheeks and a ball form in my throat. “Go,” is all I can manage to say without my voice cracking. I clear my throat and shake my head. “I mean it.”

I hear his footsteps fall away, and I wait until he’s gone before I let myself break down. I crumple to the floor, hug my knees to my chest, and lay my face down on them. I’m angry.

I’m angry at Cormac for doing the things to me that he did. I’m angry that Regulus stepped in. I’m angry that Theodore and Draco saw me mid-anxiety attack when they removed him. I’m angry that Regulus got me to tell him practically everything that I swore to keep to myself. I’m angry at myself for being so damn broken that I still fought to save Cormac’s life when mine and my safety obviously meant so little to him.

When I finally pick myself up and bring the mop and bucket to the spot Cormac was, I see the blood is already gone. The rest of the books are put away, too.

Exhaustion tugs at me hard. I put the mop and bucket away, grab my hall pass, and walk myself back to the dorms as the sky turns to a dark blue. It’ll be daylight soon. The only solace I can manage to muster as I walk into my common room is that I have a private room. Courtesy of my mom’s hefty donation to the school. I fall face down on my bed, not even bothering to change my clothes or get under the covers before I allow sleep to pull me under.

Part Three

#harry potter smut #tom riddle x reader #theo nott x reader #draco x reader #regulus x reader

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slytherin-girly · 2 years ago

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Done/ A Draco Malfoy x reader one-shot

House: doesn't matter ~~~~~~~ (Remember u are beautiful!🤍) "Haha look it's little worthless!" Some slytherin shouted pointing at me. I walked faster trying to get away from them Everyone bullied me, even the trio "Awww look mudblood is trying to run faster! What a shame!" Pansy sneered at me. Laughs erupted everywhere around me. "Oi! Y/l/n!" Someone said grabbing my arm. "Trying to run. To bad your legs can't carry you any faster than a slug." Draco taunted. Silent tears trickling down my face. "Awwww is someone gonna cry" Pansy snickered. "You're a worthless filthy little mudblood. And you take up space here." He spat. "You're mudblood mother must've begged Dumbledore to let you in here. You're talentless! A waste of space!" Everyone snickered. "Leave. Me. Alone." I spat. "The bitch talks!" "Leave me alone! You achieved your goal! Say what you want to say! I am done! I'm done with your stupid remarks! I don't care! I don't care anymore! Say what you want to fucking say!" I snapped, everyone now staring at me in shock. "You did it! I want to die! I want to disappear! I don't want to be here anymore! You all made my life a living hell! I never did anything! You all achieved your goal with tormenting me every! Single! Day!" I yelled, everyone surprised of my outrage. I ran out to the girls bathroom, where Myrtle was. "Die then! No one's gonna notice anyway!" ~~~~~~~ "Oh hello Y/n, you never see me anymore how come?" Myrtle asked floating everywhere around the bathroom. "Myrtle, w-why is everyone so-so mean t-to m-me" I sobbed hugging my knees. "Oh Y/n I was bullied because of my glasses, people said they were... funny looking" "I don't see anything wrong with them" "I'll see you later Myrtle" I smiled sadly. "Bye Y/n come back soon" she said floating off singing if you called it that, or humming something. ~~~~~~~ I forced myself to go to dinner despite earlier. I sat alone, as usual at the end of the table staring off into space. "Hey Y/n" Harry said walking up to me "What are you doing here?" "Are you gonna eat that?" He asked, Ron and Hermione were behind him. "I don't know- no-?" "Good." He grabbed the bowl and dumped it over my head. Hermione and Ron laughed along with him and everyone else in the hall. I walked out angrily reminiscing the times when I was happy, a little girl who thought she could take on the world no matter what anyone said about her. Guess younger me was wrong after all. I had grabbed the towel out of my pocket and wiped all I could off and went to a lonely corridor and sat and cried. I learned to always have a small little towel at all times because I never know what could get dumped it thrown on me. "I just want to be happy!" I sobbed. "I just want a normal life!" I sighed and looked up at the moon. It had always looked lonely, but it was always accompanied by the stars. I heard a cough in the distance." Y/n." It was Draco. "Come to humiliate me more I see. Go ahead. Give it your best shot. Not like I'll be around long anyway." I mumbled the last part, more to myself. "Y/n please-" "No! You're right! I am worthless! I am taking up space! I shouldn't be here! You're right!" I shout. "No please listen-" "No! You're right! Maybe I should just disa-" I got cut off by his lips on mine. I hesitate but kiss back. "Now, I'm sorry Y/n. I really am. The only reason I did that was because- because I was in love with you and I didn't know how to show it." "Well you thought of a funny way of showing it." I grumbled. "I'm sorry. I really am." "It's okay." "What-?" "You are not as bad as pansy, I've been tormented by worse. At least you never dumped food al over me." "Be mine Y/n?" "Surely." I smiled. "Now let's get you cleaned up" he said dragging me away.

Hope you enjoyed! Comments and reblogs are appreciated! Love you guys so much! ❤🤍❤

Requests can be made! So please make some! I only write for Draco currently!

#draco #dracomalfoy #draco malfoy fluff #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy one shot #harry potter fanfiction #draco lucius malfoy #draco fluff #draco x reader #draco malfoy x reader #draco x you #draco x y/n #draco fic #draco fanfiction #draco fuckingmalfoy #draco angst

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hellsbellschime · 2 years ago

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can you please address this? i love your content but this something serious and want to here your side too

Sure. This all stemmed from me reblogging a gifset of Gal Gadot as Wonder Woman years ago and some anonymous person sending me an ask criticizing me for supporting Israel by doing that or something, which is a beyond absurd reason for all of this to have started, but I made the mistake of engaging with it.

So, to give a short rundown of how I feel about things, I do not support the government of Israel, I do not think Israel should have been created in the first place, but I recognize that it was created and that the people there, who are mostly descendants of literal Holocaust refugees, are not uniformly and universally responsible for the crimes that have been carried out by the state of Israel.

It would be great if we could go back to post-WWII and get a takeback and undo all of the horrific shit that has been done, but we can't, and I don't think that blaming the people of Israel for being born where they were born is a reasonable solution to this problem. We can absolutely take the state of Israel to task now for the oppression and brutality that they continue to engage in, but I think that treating normal Israeli people as if they are inherently bad by virtue of existing where they exist is kind of a disturbing line of thought to go down.

Similarly, a lot of anti-Israel sentiment has personally made me uncomfortable not just because it seems to be misplaced, but at least in my personal experience (which I obviously cannot say applies broadly to the entire world), a lot of the anti-Israel sentiment that I have encountered has served as a politically acceptable mask for outright antisemetism.

Further than that, the casualness with which people paint all Israeli people and oftentimes all Jewish people as criminals because of the actions of the state of Israel makes me very uncomfortable. As someone who has quite a few Jewish friends, I can say that again, at least in my experience, the amount of harassment that they have encountered because they are Jewish and because Israel exists makes me really unsettled, which is one of the reasons that I as a non-Jewish person feel a need to distinguish between the actions of a government versus the actions of the people that may be affected by it. I mean, I definitely don't want to be condemned for all of the horrific shit that the American government has done that I actively disagree with, and I am further baffled by the fact that American Jewish people are so often pressured and harassed into condemning Israel, a country that they likely have nothing to do with and have never even been to, in what seems like an attempt to force them to prove that they are one of the "good ones."

With all of that said, I was having a discussion off the cuff about Gal Gadot of all fucking things and maybe didn't express myself as clearly as I should have, but I didn't realize that people would be screenshotting what I was saying and posting it on Twitter years later. To be honest I know fuck all about Gal Gadot and was mostly reacting to the implication that she deserves criticism solely for the fact that she is from Israel and was conscripted into the IDF like every other Israeli citizen, which I thought was absurd then and think is absurd now. If she has said anything problematic beyond that I don't support it, but I'm not a fan of hers or knowledgeable about her as a person, and I don't think anyone deserves to be dragged by virtue of their place of birth or government required service.

Ultimately I said what I said and if someone has a problem with it then they are 100% in the right to call me out for it, I don't want to hold anyone to a standard that I wouldn't hold myself to and I think it is fair to criticize anyone for saying what they said. But I wouldn't say the exact same things in the exact same way now, and I would have been more thoughtful about the entire situation had I known that it was going to be something repeatedly brought up years after the fact.

If whatever I said before or whatever I'm saying now makes you not want to support me or my content anymore that is 100% fine, going against your personal beliefs about real-world and serious topics just because someone makes some content about a TV show or book you like is not worth it, and if anyone does not want to support me for any reason ever, that's fine. Everyone has parameters for what they are okay with and not okay with, and if I have ever done anything that someone else is not okay with, then I am not here to argue with it or justify myself. I can only express my feelings and opinions as they are now, and I can't say that they won't change in the future because I don't ever want to stop learning or growing.

And I'm sorry for this absurdly long explanation, but it is a serious topic that I get repeated questions about and I understand that as my social media profile grows I will probably get more questions and criticism about it, so I would like to have one big reference post to explain exactly how I feel and where I'm coming from.

#israel for ts

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handicappedbuenchico · 2 years ago

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Name: Caitlin-Ashley

Pronouns: She/Her

Preference of communication: Tumblr IM's. Those are 10x more reliable in terms of me seeing them, in comparison to Discord, for some reason.

Most active muse: Spencer.

Experience / how many years: I've been roleplaying for about 8 years now! It's been an on-and-off thing really.

Platforms you use: I use both Tumblr and Discord!

Best experience: Meeting @petpsycho for the very first time, roleplaying John and Carlos's first interaction based off of a meme I sent in, and having Carlos and John fuck at damn near 100 notes in. Truly the best experience because it was not only one of my first, but Mina has been an amazing person to talk to and write with.

Rp pet peeves:

Those group/town/app/appless Discord rp types, that don't even do it on Tumblr from what I can tell, spamming their promo so much in the rp tags to the point where they drown out literally anyone else's. I'm not looking to join a fucking off-platform group to rp in a generic town, I'm looking for singular people to write with ON TUMBLR. STOP SPAMMING YOUR SHIT FOR FUCK'S SAKE! That's what bumping on Disboard is for.

Personal blogs that aren't connected to roleplay ones in any way spam liking my roleplay related shit. Like, I can understand if it's like a meta or a headcanon, but personals (that aren't connected to a roleplay blog) liking my starter calls and my promos are a completely different story. PLEASE DON'T FUCKING DO THAT IF YOU ARE NOT A ROLEPLAYER IN ANY CAPACITY. That goes for reblogging too honestly, like don't reblog my roleplaying material/threads either if you aren't actively involved with it/didn't get my permission to do so.

Formatting that is hard to read. Now, I'm not talking about colored text or small text or anything like that. I'm talking about the formatting that looks like either a pure wall of text, or there are so many paragraph breaks that I have to physically drag a reply into Google Docs to "fix it" for my brain. Full disclosure, I am autistic (an Aspie to be specific), and sometimes my brain has trouble with reading comprehension on normal formatted text. Now imagine my brain when trying to read something with either NO paragraph breaks, OR paragraph breaks after every single sentence. It's not fun, and it makes me want to write with you less and less.

I apologize in advance if anyone feels called out by these, as I'm sure you didn't want to hear this from me in this manner. I am polite and nice to a fault, and I fear judgement/being reprimanded due to my own RL trauma, so I was too anxious to tell you personally.

Fluff, angst, or smut: I would like some Fluff with a side of Smut, you can also put a dash of angst on that if it will enhance the thread's flavor.

Plots or memes: Oh I am mostly a meme person, but if I find/think of a plot that our muses can do, you best believe I'm coming into your DM's and tell you about it.

Long or short replies: Depends on my muse, the time that I have at any given moment, my need to stim, and sometimes the thread itself. On a day where I have a lot of muse and a full day to myself, I can do longer replies, like a couple of long paragraphs. On days where I have little muse and or not a lot of time to spare, I tend to write smaller replies.

Best time to write: If I said any other time of day than between 8 PM - 12 AM I would be lying to you all. Writing at night right before you crash just hits different.

Are you like your muses: Y E S.

Carlos has my fear of punishment/being judged. Along with that, he and I sharing being a people-pleaser/peacemaker type of person, due to having it forced upon us by the adults around us that should fucking know how to act right. We both also grew up poor due to circumstances we couldn't control.

Now, Spencer, you wouldn't think I'd share any similarities with, but you would be very wrong. Spencer and I share a sensitivity to touch, but we both also like to touch anything/anyone we see (not in a creepy/perverted way, I'm talking like hugs and shoulder pats or something like that.) We're both also gay as fuck, and we're neuro-divergent (I'm autistic with an anxiety disorder and he has ADHD with Generalized Anxiety Disorder). We both also got daddy issues, so uh, there's that too.

Ted Lockwood is just my experiences as an autistic person incarnate LMFAO. Bro like, we're both nice to everyone, including people who probably don't deserve it. He and I both are socially awkward sometimes, and we can't read a room sometimes to save our damn lives (literally in Ted's case). We both have our own little special interests, his is engineering and space and mine is art and writing.

Crybaby as a character was someone I could relate to on an emotional level. I was saying for many years that my dysfunctional family almost fit Dollhouse to A FUCKING TEE! I also related the song Crybaby because I too was a very emotional little girl who got made fun and taken advantage of for it. I related to all of Crybaby's failed attempts at love in songs such as Carousel, Soap, and Training Wheels. Out of all my muses, Crybaby is the most like me because I already related to her long before I would even take her up as a muse.

Tagged by: @kurtzbergsiblings

Tagging: @bctclgevse @betterto-die-thanto-crawl @bamsidsuperbitch @scribedhorror @depictedblue @depictedmorada and anyone else who wants to!

#ooc 💭i'm awake now💭#dashboard games

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fuzzycheesecakenightmare · 1 year ago

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Authors note: Hello so I finished the fic (I saw the prompt again and the brain rot took over) hopefully it's good. This is the first fic I've ever finished and also the first fic I've ever posted on my tumblr so please be nice.

Also if you enjoy the fic please reblog and like

Not beta read

Word count: 1,681

Hurt/Comfort (like 10% hurt 90% comfort)

Fuled by my anxiety from being pent up in that ward worrying for so long I storm through the medical wing. Doctors are shouting and the chaos of the noise makes me want to scream, but I persist holding Finnicks hand as we drag eachother through the mess of movement and chaos. I dodge the majority of people easily and I'm thankful for my quick feet since Finnick seems to be having a rough time getting through the crowds. But even with the blur of activity we make quick work through the ward not stopping until we see someone we know.

Gale is sitting on a cold looking metal table and has a gash along his arm. I want to apologise to him (or scold him) for going on a suicide mission of my creation and I am just about to go to him when I hear another voice I recognise.

"FINNICK!"

I jolt at the noise, and for a split second I am back in the arena listening to my loved ones scream for help through the mutated voice boxes of the jaberjays. I force myself out of it though, I can't fall apart now not when Peeta is so close to my grasp. I have to admit though the Capitol got the jaberjays to scream earily similar to Annie's real voice and despite knowing none of it could have been real I feel my stomach turn in the memory.

"ANNIE!"

Finnick flings himself towards her and it's like the whole world stops around them and nothing else matters. They crash together in a mess of sobbing and laughter and love

No one could ever doubt their love. I think a stab of weird jealousy pulsing through me; then I curse at myself for being anything but overjoyed at their reunion. I mean of course I'm overjoyed for them, I have never seen Finnick so elated but for some reason it sends another pang of longing through me and before I even realise what I'm doing I am sprinting past Gale to my Peeta.

When did he become my Peeta?

I make a mental note to ask myself that later in the privacy of my room away from the prying eyes of Coins lapdogs (even when they aren't around me I still feel like somewhere they are listening in for any emotions they can exploit in my promos). But for now, I have to see him. For the first time since Hamitch told me about the mission, I allow myself to imagine what our reunion would look like. I imagine the mess of hugs and kisses and being cluched in his warm embrace. I think back to our nights on the train my head tucked into the crook of his broad safe shoulders keeping the worst of terrors at bay. I remember all the nights I spent here clutching his pearl willing it to manifest him in its place. I think of what I will say to him.

Oh god what will I say to him?

How do I even begin to explain how much I've missed him; how every part of me ached in grief at his loss; how do I communicate that. Peeta has always been better with words so I can only hope that my actions can convey it all.

A firm hand on my shoulder reminds me where I am, Hamitch's grip is steady but his eyes have a weird sort of franticness which is hard to describe. I stare at him for a beat longer and I begin to truly understand how much Hamitch truly cares for us. We are his family as much as he is ours. He mumbles something about getting the doctors and cameras to leave the both of us alone during first meeting whilst gesturing to a silvery grey door to my left and I just can't wait any longer. I swing open the door.

And there bloody but breathing is Peeta, bruised, battered, beautiful Peeta. His eyes watered - they were big like a dear just before it's about to run. His breath shook as he spoke,

"Katniss... a-are you... is this... are you safe?"

Something between a sob and a squeak escapes me and I throw myself at him. He clutches me so tight that if I wasn't already broken from our time apart I think I would have shattered into a million peices of broken rubble. Not that I'm complaining. I'm clinging to him like a peice of driftwood in the middle of the ocean when Peeta starts to apologise - he shouldn't be - but he does mumbling about how he shouldn't have left me alone in the arena ways, he could've stayed with me, things he could've done differently. I shut him up with a kiss hoping he will feel what I can't bring myself to say.

That there was nothing we could do, that we were just trapped an a bad situation and that there was no way we could have known. In truth his thoughts mirror mine and if I tried to reassure him it would feel empty and hypocritical.

He almost pulls back in surprise but leans into the kiss nonetheless, it feels so impossibility nice like I'm finally thawing after months of the harsh winter; like the bloom of the first bud in spring. But as we kiss I can't help but feel something is different - it's not that any part of the kiss is different no Peeta's kiss is just hunger inducing as the last time on the beach but it feels almost imperceptibly different. And as we go up for air I see Peeta's face look at me; it's a mix of confusion laced with grief and something akin to acceptance. What, I wonder what I did wrong, why is he looking at me like that, why does he look so sad.

My thoughts spiral around my head making it start to hurt as my anxiety for him builds. I try so hard to find something to say that will ease his mind and come up blank, I settle for just asking if he's doing okay and I cringe at how silly that sounds given his state but I persist looking him in the eyes as I do. His eyebrows crinkle almost imperceptibly like he was trying to hide his reaction from some ghostly onlookers and pulls me closer to his chest. His calloused hands gently bring my face next to his. His chipped fingernails matted with blood.

For reasons I cannot fathom right now, my mind is brought back to our first arena and my time washing him by the lake washing away the mud and debris hoping I made to him before the worst of the infection had set in - before I knew. I have the urge to wash him again now; wash away the blood; wash away the hardship he's endured; wash away all of the horrible things Snow did to him. I was so nervous back then, so easily flustered, my world was so small, I was so unaware of my love for Peeta. So unaware of the damage that would cause. It feels like a lifetime ago; I wonder what that Katniss would think of me now ...

Peeta leans his face next to mine like he is going to plant one of his fairytale kisses on my neck. I lean closer unconsciously and flush at the implications. But he doesn't kiss me instead he whispers so low that I have to focus hard to catch it:

"Where are the cameras?"

When I realise what he said it hits me like a ton of bricks. What? He thinks there are cameras! Why would he think that?

Oh.

Oh no.

He doesn't know. He doesn't know how much I love him. He didn't know how much I loved him when he was in Snow clutches.

That's the thought that sends the tears spilling again, I honestly don't know when I stopped.

"Oh Peeta, no .. no. There are no cameras here I promise. I-I love you!"

I stare into him with all the sincerity I have. And he laughs - WHAT! It was a short chuckle laced with a bittersweet sort of resignation and once again I am left entirely baffled by this man whom I just laid out my entire heart to.

"I should've known,"

Peeta's eyes glaze over and drift of in glassy pools of thoughts which I can't even begin to swim though.

"This is a dream, isn't it."

He says it with such surety, I question reality for a moment.

"Katniss loves Gale," He smiles "I can't get in the way of that."

"No, Peeta, not in the way I love you. This is real I promise you,"

I kiss the hand resting on my face feeling the scared of his jagged hand on my lips, my tears mingling with the cracks in his skin.

"Feel this?" His vacant smile drops as his eyes focus on me he gives a small nod seemingly entranced by the touch of my skin on his. "This, this is real I promise."

One of my hands rubs comforting circles into his chest grounding him in my touch like he did everytime one of my nightmares felt like it was spilling into reality.

"My touch is real, this place is real, I'm real and I love you. I'm so sorry I didn't tell you before, I'm sorry you didn't know that my love for you is so real I promise."

He croaks and a smile splits across his face,

"Really?"

I nod and he glows pulling me into a time stopping kiss and it feels like we are the only two people in the world as we melt into each other. He smells of copper and grime but still his warm sent of home cuts through it all still as intoxicating as ever even with months of him being stuck in that hell hole.

When we reluctantly part for air, Peeta is smiling so hard I see dimples forming which I hadn't noticed before, and once again I am struck with how pretty he is.

"I love you Katniss!"

I giggle like I'm little again, even though his love was never really a question. I want to see him like this forever smiling brighter than the sun. And so I promise myself:

Peeta will never doubt my love so long as the world keeps spinning.

Credit to @saradika-graphics for the gorgeous dividers

If anyone is willing to accept a prompt, I submit:

Katniss and Peeta are reunited in Mockingjay and Peeta wasn’t hijacked. However, he’s still under the same impression he was in Catching Fire that Katniss chose Gale and is with him, so he doesn’t kiss her or make any romantic moves. Katniss is confused blah blah, miscommunication blah blah, HEA.

#everlark #the hunger games #thg #katniss and peeta #katniss everdeen #peeta mellark #peeta supremacy #hunger games #hunger games fanfiction

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buckyhoney-library · 4 years ago

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𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐥𝐭𝐲, 𝐛.𝐛

a/n: i had to turn this into a whole ass blurb/one shot, this is different than anything that i've written in the past.

reblogs/likes/feedback is greatly appreciated & highly encouraged! However, do NOT steal/repost ANY of my fics!

18+ warning

Warnings: 18+, no plot- just porn, dubcon, age gap (early/mid 20's), stepdad!bucky, dom!bucky, sub!reader, virgin!reader, unprotected sex, praise kink, size kink, innocent kink, corruption kink, breeding kink, fingering, oral (f), masturbation (f), sorry for any missed typos!

Word Count: 2.2k

Chills spread over the surface of your body- his fingers trace along the tops of your shoulder and up your neck- stopping at your jaw. The sound of his breathing is the only thing you can hear. His clothed chest presses against your back- his crotch flush with your ass.

Having another body so close and pressed against you is foreign.

Nerves bundle in your stomach as his fingers slide up the sides of your waist, stopping right before your breast- cupping them through the thin fabric of your tank top. Your sensitive nipples pebble and poke through the tank top.

A surprised gasp falls from your lips, he chuckles into your ear.

That tank top is what landed you here with your breasts being groped and messaged. Bucky had gotten fed up with you wandering around the house with tiny clothing that barely covers your most intimate areas.

With the innocence of what such clothing does to a man, you thought nothing of it- as it’s been warmer outside, and you needed to cool off.

“Daddy…” Breathlessly whining, your core began to tingle- something that has been happening more often.

Humming, Bucky moves the strands of floral-smelling hair to the side- exposing your neck. Pressing soft pecks along the base of your neck, he trails up to the bottom of your ear.

“Honey, have you ever played with your special place?” Your shoulders tense.

The rough callused palm roamed over your tummy, stopping at the band of the muted pink pajama shorts.

Bucky knew the answer. He heard the soft muffled moans and whimpers that come from your bedroom. This sparked curiosity.

Through the crack of the door, Bucky witnessed the sinful act of your hips rolling on your stuffies.

Accidently grinding against one of your bear’s nose in the middle of the night was the act that started the exploration of your body. You knew that what you were doing wasn’t allowed- but the feeling you got when you grind your clit into the face of the teddy was unlike anything you’ve experienced before.

The first orgasm you had took you by surprise, drenching your favorite teddy in your juices.

From that night forward, your fingers exploded the sensitive bud and the aching hole.

When your fingers weren’t enough, you teased your needy clit with the hard nose of your teddy. The simulation became addicting and masturbating with your teddy became a daily occurrence.

Tweaking your nipples and toying your clit are acts that you knew would get you in a world of trouble- if you caught by your mother. So, you kept the touching and teasing for when she went to work- but you had no idea that this whole time you had an audience for your private sessions.

Breasts swaying, nipples barely grazing the sheets, and the sight of the light brown teddy bear, that he gifted to you for your birthday, stimulating your clit- left Bucky no option but to stroke himself in the hallway.

Praying silent prayers that his wife wouldn’t catch him cumming in his hand to his precious stepdaughter.

Overtaken with the pleasure, your grasp on your teddy’s head tightens as the rocking of your hips became more aggressive. Simulation from the nose on your clit becoming too much for you to bear. The sounds fell from your lips like honey off a spoon- Bucky could listen to your whimpers on a continuous loop.

Your eyes flutter shut as your mouth jaw fall opens- this time, no sound comes out. The overwhelming wave of intense pleasure washing over you- causing your body to twitch and your eyes roll back.

Bucky became addicted to the beautiful sight in front of him, he watched you explore your body almost every day.

“Yes.” Heat flushed your cheeks, and you look down at his fingers playing with the strings.

“Do you want Daddy to touch your special place?” Bucky’s breath is hot on your neck.

The question made the heartbeat between your legs grow louder. All you could manage to do is nod. The sensation of your nipples mixed with the hot breath on your neck put you under a spell.

You knew that Bucky shouldn’t be touching you, but you wanted his fingers to play with your cunt- knowing he could make you feel better than any of your teddy’s.

“Has anyone else ever played with you?” Embarrassed, you shake your head.

The answer makes his cock twitch and harden. Bucky dreamed of being the first one who gets to stretch your tight hole. The first one to feel how sweet you tasted as your dripped with arousal- The image of your cunt swallowing his cock has made him cum too many times to count.

“How honored I am to be the one to ruin your innocence.”

The grip on your breasts moved to your hips, leaving your assaulted breasts sore. Twisting your hips, forcing them to turn to face him. Your doe-eyed expression only made Bucky’s cock throb.

Guiding your shaking fingers to his cock, Bucky's eyes are mesmerized at the innocence beginning to drain from your body.

The yelp that you made from the feeling of his erect cock- makes him chuckle.

“Don’t be scared, Honey- Daddy is gonna be gentle with you before I stuff you full of my cock.” The fallen piece of hair is moved ever so gently from your cheek.

The adrenaline soaring through your veins and dampening panties gives you a confidence boost, you squeeze him.

A low groan from Bucky causes you to giggle and your eyes light up. Bucky smiles, tilting your chin upward. He plants a small kiss on the corner of your mouth.

“See, little one? You made Daddy feel good- do you want Daddy to make you feel good too?” The softness in his voice relaxes your tense shoulders, trusting that you’re in good hands.

Heat rises in your cheeks at the taboo question, you nod anyway.

“Use your words. Tell Daddy exactly what you want him to do to your special place,” His fingers slide down the thin strap of the tank top, stopping at the base. Your mouth runs dry as he traces the tank top, circling over your nipple.

“I want your cock… inside me…” The request takes Bucky back- thinking you’d ask for your clit to be played with.

“Oh, little one… I’m too big for your little cunt, I have to stretch you out first.” Forming a pout, you frown.

“I promise, Daddy is gonna fill you up real nice, okay? How about you show me how you play with yourself, yeah?” Still pouting, you nod.

Motioning to your bed, you sit on the edge of the bed. Bucky takes a seat on the small ottoman next to the bed.

Tugging the ends of your tank top upward, your breasts drop. An incoherent mumble escapes past Bucky’s lips as his legs spread. The self-control that his exhibiting by not shoving his cock down your throat is astounding.

His flustered reaction causes you to giggle. Leaning back to the bed, you slide off the pajama shorts. The clothing is discarded to the floor beside you.

Legs spread wide, you let one hand play with your nipples, and the other slide down to your glistening cunt.

“You’re so wet, honey- I can see you dripping from here,” Bucky’s palm is over his bugle, messaging himself through his pants.

Hips dig down at the relief from your touch, sliding your fingers between your folds. The juices coat your fingers, you bring them to your mouth- closing your lips around them, sucking off your arousal. Bucky is in disbelief from how natural it was for you to taste yourself and how comfortable you were playing with your cunt in front of him. He begins to fiddle with his zipper.

Your light breathy whimpers fill the room as your fingers toy with your clit.

Bucky’s fingers wrap around himself, slowly stroking himself- attempting to process the breathtaking sight of your cunt on full display.

Your hips buck into your fingers, while whimpers beginning to recklessly fall from your mouth.

Blindly reaching around for your stuffie to grind your now swollen clit into, but instead, feel a pair of calloused palms on your inner thighs.

“Couldn’t take it anymore- I need to taste that cunt for myself.” The sound that leaves your mouth surprises both of you as you feel his mouth attack your cunt.

His tongue dragging all over your cunt, licking up all the juices. The new sensation is unlike anything you’ve ever felt before- the way his tongue flicked your clit and lapped up your fallen juices pulled you closer and closer to the edge.

“Fuck. I’ve never seen such a stunnin’ pussy before, honey” Bucky can’t stop himself.

The moment your hips began to squirm, and the squeals and whimpers fall from your lips- his forearm holds your tummy down. Bucky wants to savor every last bit of you. The pad of his finger glides over the moist fold, examining you up close.

“Gotta see how tight you are,” He inserts his middle finger.

Curling in them in, grazing your g-spot. The force on your tummy enhances the pleasure building.

“Oh, honey- Daddy needs to stretch your little cunt,” The ring finger joins the middle, sending you flying into a euphoric state.

Bucky pumps his arousal-coated fingers, growing in speed. You ball the sheets in your fists, bucking your hips into his fingers.

“Please Daddy!” You choke pathetically.

“Please what? You need to cum?” You can barely manage to nod as you feel the lower half of your body become weak.

“I need you to tell me with your words.” You’ve entered another world and your fingers desperately try to unhook his grasp on your tummy.

“I can’t hold it- Daddy, please let me cum all over your fingers!” Proud of how quickly you’re learning his rules, he grants your wish.

Twitching and bucking aimlessly, you are overwhelmed with the shockwaves of pleasure that are soaring through every nerve of your body. Bucky continues to stretch your pussy, curling his fingers into your g-spot.

Another wave of pleasure takes you, you're blinded by who powerful it is- no sound comes from you, body silently convulsing.

“I’m so proud of you, honey. Can’t wait to ruin you with my cock,” Bucky discarded the rest of his clothes, dropping them with the others.

Regaining your vision and the rest of your senses, you met with his cock looking right at you- angry, swollen, and dripping with precum.

“See what that pussy does to me?” He chuckles, watching your eyes go wide and chest rise.

“I’ll be gentle,” He coos, kneeling down, placing a tender kiss on the top of your heat.

The confidence you once had vanishing as he grabs hold of himself. His cock throbbing against your folds as he slides his tip up and down.

Your moans don’t sound human as his tip finally enters you. The grunts match your moans. The tightness of your walls around Bucky catches him off guard. His fingers were nothing compared to his girth and length.

“Daddy- you’re too big for me I can’t-“ Tears form in the corners of your eyes the further he pushes himself.

“I’ll make it fit, ‘m filling you up.” With one swift motion, his pelvis flushes with your thighs.

The sweet sound of your cries and the instinct to pull off him- turns him feral. Bucky’s palms spread your thighs out, keeping them from pulling away from him.

“Don’t pull away. You’re doing such a good job,” Each thrust releases an animalistic sound from you, your body feeling numb with bliss.

Bucky feels your body relax completely, opening you up more, granting him the ability to go deeper. Turning into his fuck toy, you’re a babbling whimpering mess. You’ve lost vision and the ability to form words.

After being stuffed inside you, there is no way that Bucky going to be able to use his hand again. There is no replicating your cunt- how tight, warm, or the sounds you made.

“Daddy is so close, little one. Do you want Daddy to fill you up? Want him to stuff you full of his cum?” Bucky’s voice almost mocking how pathetic you look you’re your breasts bouncing, and your body paralyzed by his cock.

“Fill me, p-please!” You cry through the pleasure and pain.

Bucky’s palm presses on your tummy, increasing the pleasure of his cock ramming into you. Bucky’s foul curses and strings of praises of how amazing your cunt feels around him sound muffled to you.

As he presses on your tummy, he can feel himself filling you through your tummy. You cry out in pure bliss, desperately trying to move your hips from the sensitivity. The third wave crashing into you and wrecking you completely.

“Oh, look at that! Look at all my cum inside you,” Once he removes himself from you, your body twitched.

Bucky can’t take his eyes off of your cunt, cum dripping out of your abused hole. You’re laying heaving on the bed, processing all the pleasure rushing through you.

“I’m so proud of you,” Bucky lays next to you, tracing patterns on your tummy, bringing you down from your high.

Bucky grabs the towel from the hook, opening your shaking thighs. He wipes away the spilled cum. Still sensitive you whimper at the contact of the towel. Bucky peppers kisses around your inner thighs and on your tummy.

“Thank you for letting me ruin this pretty pussy,”

taglist: @hunter-of-baker-street @ifeelloved @freshluiana @multiplums

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes agnst #stepdad!bucky #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female oc #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes headcanon #bucky barnes blurb #bucky barnes imagine

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foenixs · 3 years ago

Note

jeonghan? dacryphilia, forced submission maybe? have fun with it and get to it when you get to it💕 you deserve the world

A Burning Sensation

note: this has been just sitting between my documents for way too long, hope you can enjoy the very late reply^^ I kind of want to try writing again and I am tiptoeing myself back to my drafts

word count: 642

inlcudes- sub!Jeonghan x dom!gn!reader, forced submission, choking, rough sex, fucking hannie raw with a huge dildo, handcuffs, slapping, spanking, punishment, spitting, scratching, dacryphilia, pain kink, degradation (slut shaming han)

!remember thas this is a work of fiction and you should only try sth like this irl after having a long discussion with your partner about consent, limits and safe words!

if you like my fics please reblog them with a nice comment or tag

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The bed creaks under Jeonghan‘s weight as you push him onto the mattress with your hand around his neck. Despite his breath getting caught in his throat, that taunting smirk still lingers on his face, edging you to push him further.

Wordlessly you tighten the handcuffs, that are attached to your headboard, around Jeonghan’s wrists. He scoffs at you, raising and eyebrow provocatively but you don’t take any of his shit, you’ve had enough.

You let your palm strike his cheek, once, twice, three times, and Jeonghan’s eyes flutter rapidly in shock.

He gulps as you rip down his pants, freeing his half hard cock. Jeonghan’s body was covered in goosebumps, shivering at the fear and anticipation of what was coming next.

You stare down the bratty boy, his attitude lingering on in the way he subtly tilts his head and licks his dry lips.

You push his legs apart to expose his clenching hole. He was still sore from last night, and yet he just couldn’t help teasing you, it was in his blood to keep you on your toes.

Quickly pulling out your favourite toy from the bedside cabinet, you hold down Jeonghan’s thighs as you push the huge dildo into him. His eyes roll back into his head and he wails out.

You had never been this harsh before, but his actions had consequences and he begged to learn that the hard way.

Jeonghan’s cock twitches from the tight stretch and you slap his pathetic member. Gathering saliva in your mouth, you lean down to spit on his tip, watching as your drool runs down his length.

You drag your nails over his torso, leaving deep marks on his skin, giving his cock a spanking on every way down of your hands.

You get lost in your punishment, drowning in the sweet sounds of Jeonghan’s begs and cries, a satisfied smile forming on your face when tears break from his eyes.

“Please-… I- I’m so sorry”, he sobs, face as wet as his stomach that his cock was leaking onto,” I’m so- so close to cumming.”

You calm your motions, gently rubbing over his sore skin and twisting one of his nipples between two fingers. Your fingertips feel like a feathers touch on his body as you gently let them dance along his skin.

“Then cum, go on.”

Jeonghan closes his eyes, inhaling deeply as he knew exactly what you were doing to him. The touches were too soft, too slow, and you were well aware of that.

“I- I can’t”, he tries to hide his face, but no amount of rubbing could rid him of his blushing cheeks, “I need you to hurt me more for me to cum.”

You chuckle victoriously, having shattered the confident boy’s facade into tiny, submissive pieces.

Grabbing onto the base of the toy, you pull it out to the tip, before ramming it back into Jeonghan’s small hole. Your thrusts are ruthless, but the tied-up boy wouldn’t want it any other way.

Using your free hand to wrap around his neck, you choke more cries out of the wrecked guy beneath you, whose cock was throbbing with the need for relief.

Jeonghan spreads his legs as far as he can, needing to feel the toy in its entirety. The dildo brushes against his prostate with every push, the overwhelming friction burning him up from inside.

He gurgles, throwing his head back so hard that it hits the headboard, but the pain is nothing but background music as strings of cum colour his torso.

You slow down your motions, helping Jeonghan ride through his intense high. You brush your thumb over his chin, picking up his drool and cleaning the finger in his hair.

“My dirty slut”, you compliment, and he leans his head against your hand, smiling up at you in contempt.

masterlist

taglist: @soya-zz , @mintvender , @sub-hoshi-enthusiast , @femdomlieeh , @subbyboyhaven

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puyoginge · 2 years ago

Text

What's been going on with me.

3 years later I’ve decided to resurrect my Tumblr because it is my sanctuary and the social media ever. I disbanded twitter because it makes me angry all the time and for the sake of preserving my dwindling adult sanity. lol.

You may remember me from my few posts under the username yaboinate28. very 2018 lol. I posted a lot of trans / general mental health relatable stuff to manage my struggle with gender dysphoria and hopefully connect with others who felt the same as me. If you want to get a taste of what's been going on since then then please do read on below!! (TW mental health stuff)

WHY I LEFT

Some time in 2020 I purged all my trans posts, removing all my incentive to return to this new decade apocalypse of a site. I guess was feeling really insecure about the discordance between my Tumblr open-transness (??) and my irl extreme stealth thang. I was chronically worried about people from my real life finding my account basically.

Much of my stuff was very Tumblr cringe and probably stuff you’ve seen before but there were a couple of self help posts that were actually insanely good resources for coping with gender dysphoria (particularly in the early stages of social transition) which I seriously regret deleting. I remember a lot of my memes “blowing up” which made me feel really special and like I could contribute something to the world. As a young teenager struggling with self harm and severe depression as well as navigating my life within a home that outright rejected my trans identity, my Tumblr was my lifeline, the people I met made me feel hopeful for the future, and seeing people reblog with “I needed to hear this” or “thanks so much for posting” meant everything to me.

But its important for me to address that I’m not the person I was back then, !!and whilst I'll be attempting to find and repost some of those self help resources!!, I probably won’t be posting about my trans experience much anymore other than within this entry. But please please reach out if you need someone who’s been through it to talk to. I’d love to support you however i can!! I’m only a message away.

LIFE STUFF

Since 2019 my attitude on life has changed a lot and whilst coping with my mental health issues are still a daily hurdle, I’ve found myself a groove in which to sit and ride the wave. Essentially I’m managing and I’m happy and able to maintain a positive outlook on life, which is good. Additionally, with time my family have softened to my trans identity. Its not perfect, but I’m not at risk. I love my family and I don’t blame them for their actions, I’m just taking it slow.

Passed my GCSES with flying colours, passed my A-levels with regular colours, and I'm going to uni. Life has continued and its good. And whilst I would rather eat my own shit than go back and relive the days when my mum had to force me me out the door to get me to go to school, I made it through every last day. That's fucking badass, and tbh I'm pretty resilient now because of it lol.

I guess my point is (crass warning) see the joy in what you have. Take life day by day. Don’t let yourself take the easy route, because then you’ll learn how fucking strong you are. And you are stronger than you think even if all your cards are stacked against you.

TRANSITION STUFF

Since the last time we spoke I’ve legally transitioned, and am (at the time of writing) dealing with the initial admin of medical transition. I’ve been speaking regularly with a gender specialist therapist for 2 years. more recently I’ve been exploring my gender expression with my new found freedom. AND I’m in a relationship with someone who is beautiful and kind and couldn’t be more supportive of me (I adore them). And.... I’m still as stealth as ever. Just as resistant to say “yAYYyy i’m trAns!!!” as I’ve always been. I fucking love it. Some things never change lol. As I said family are being dragged by the tail along with me and have warmed to the whole thing. Support is not the word, but acceptance is pretty apt. They both realise it’s always been “me” at this point and that's enough for the time being.

WHO I AM NOW

I’m now an adult (wtf so surreal????) I have allowed my passion for retro gaming to flourish, recently got super fucking into rhythm games, developed a healthy collection of games and consoles which I may post about perhaps. Resurrected my love for anime, particularly dumb slice of life shows and Madoka Magica (all hail you beautiful broken masterpiece of infinite spinoff potential)

I found my interest in psychology (wowwww surprise!!) Got a job, found some friends, told some people a long overdue fuck off. And rounded myself into a much more open minded person than I used to be.

I couldn’t care less how many people read this, mainly I’m doing it for me. To provide myself a clean slate and stuff. But if you do read this, and you used to enjoy my silly little posts or find them helpful or whatever: I hope you’re well, I’m glad you stuck around and I hope you stay :)

#trans #transmasc #transfem #transgender #trans love #gay #pride #lgbt #life #non binary

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 years ago

Text

Hue and Cry III

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape; abuse of power, threats, chase, whipping, blood.

This is dark!medieval!Bucky Barnes x reader and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Synopsis: You face a reckoning for evading your lord.

Note: Today I start my job!!!! I won’t be able to check in until the afternoon but hope you guys have a great Monday!

Thanks to everyone and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

Your pleas were silenced by Lester’s single threat to cut out your tongue with his sword. He assured you that so long as you were mostly intact, his liege would show his gratitude. He took you back through the corridors with some direction from the steward but the lords had already left the entrance hall.

He dragged you up the winding stairs, higher than you’d been in that castle, and you shook more and more with each step. You were trapped, there was no way out. Even if you tried to run and he didn’t cut you down, the gates had been closed and Lester had set all the other livery men on guard.

You planted your heels as you saw a familiar back. Lord Rogers strode around the corner and eyed you and the man in his mail and tunic. He gave a crooked grin and watched you curiously but his expression was more knowing as he got closer.

“You seek Barnes?” he asked Lester.

“I do, my lord, I would return to him his property,” Lester countered tersely.

“I will see her to him,” you squirmed at his promise, he seemed entirely too understanding of the situation.

“My lord, with due respect, I did discover her and I have sworn to Lord--”

“I will make him know you did bring her, uh…”

“Lester Cordray,” he supplied, “might I accompany you then, to see that she tries no tricks.”

“I can handle the girl. You might have brought her to me but it was I who did discover her truly,” Steve grabbed your elbow and pulled you to him, “now away with you before I speak of more than your diligence to your master.”

Lester muttered a ‘my lord’ and left you with the clomp of his iron steps. Steven watched him and turned with his hand still on your arm. You struggled with him as he wrenched you onward.

“You knew?” you breathed.

“You think I pluck any woman from the dirt and put her in my own castle,” he scoffed, “Lord Barnes is an old friend and he did put out the call for aid in accosting his errant and deceitful maid.”

“I did nothin--”

“You stole, as I have it, and more, you lied to me,” he spat, “you’ve wronged two lords and your single offense alone would warrant a whipping if not the dungeons.”

“No, no, I did not steal, my lord, and I did lie but only to protect myself. Lord Barnes, he… he was going to--”

“You swore a duty to him and you ran. Whether you stole, it does not matter for your evasion betrays deception.”

He thrust you forward and you hit a wooden door. He knocked beside your head as you righted yourself. He wrenched you back and huffed. He reached for the handle and pushed the door open. He nudged you in ahead of him and followed.

“Buck,” he said evenly, “as I promised, I believe this is the one.”

Your gaze met Barnes’ impenetrable glare. He saw in a wooden framed chair, elbows bent on the arms, and watched you without flinching. Only his eyes moved as he looked you up and down. He gave a subtle nod.

“I refrained from the switch but I might send for several to choose from,” Rogers offered.

Barnes considered him then looked back to you, “a grand idea, Steve,” he mused, “but before you do,” he tugged at his tunic.

Steve chuckled and reached around you. He grabbed the collar of your dress and tore through the bodice, jolting your body against his. You cried out as he split the fabric with several more rips to the very hem. He pushed it down your arms so it heaped around your feet and did the same to your shift. He swatted the back of your head when you tried to cling to the thinner layer and stepped back only as you in only your stockings..

“I doubt she would run now,” Barnes still did not break his stoic sneer, “the switches… and some wine.”

You hugged yourself and shivered. Steven left for a moment and returned again. You were further unsettled when Barnes did not bid him to leave. You trembled and searched every nook and cranny of the chamber for an inkling of hope. There were only the lords and the thick air sewn with your fear.

A knock came and Steven went to the door again. He shooed away the servant and pushed the wood back into the frame. He plunked the bottle of wine on the table that stood at Barnes’ elbow. He held out the long switches for the other lords perusal as he uncorked the bottle with one hand.

“Her thumb,” he said and swigged from the neck.

Steven crossed to you and checked each switch against the width of your thumb. He chose the one closest and handed it to Barnes as he stood. The men shared a conspiratorial look and you cowered as Lord Rogers turned on you again. You didn’t reach the door before he yanked you back.

He grabbed the back of your neck and bent you over as he angled you around. He presented your ass to Barnes and you felt the thin birch against your flesh.

“Please, my lord, please, I was only afraid. I did not know your intentions, I am innocent, untouched. How could I--”

“Is that meant to discourage me?” Barnes snarled, “let her scream.”

He pulled back the switch and it lashed across your rear. Your thighs quaked at the force and your flesh split at the impact. He whipped you again and again and again until every inch of your ass seared in agony. He didn’t stop, laying licks across your thighs until you fell to your knees. You sobbed and screamed in pain as Rogers’ hand remained on your neck and he urged you back to your feet.

“You have a physician,” Barnes asked plainly, “I wouldn’t risk festering… I’d like to hold onto her for a time yet.”

“I will have him tend to her,” Steven said, his tone coated in disappointment, “an easy punishment for a thief.”

“It is not all,” Barnes assured, “not close to it. Get her on the bed before she passes out,” he bid, “and do not be so grim, Steve, you will have your reward. Patience, my friend, you know me to honour my promises.”

“I know it,” Steven said as he took you to the bed and you let him lay you down on your stomach. You were dizzy and weak from the pain. “I’ve been patient. A week or so and she has lingered under my roof and I did not touch her.”

“A feat for you, no doubt,” Barnes said, “and I thank you for that but I need time.”

“Buck--”

“Don’t push me. Not right now,” Barnes warned, “it is the last thing I need with the prospect of the capital before me.”

“Certainly,” Rogers relented, “I shall leave you then.”

“As you will,” Barnes resumed his seat as the other lord retreated and the sound of the door marked his exit.

You reached back and touched your tortured bottom and winced. You bit your other hand and sobbed at the pain.

“Do not touch it,” he barked, “you would cause it to worsen. Be still… be good.”

🏰

You didn’t stop sobbing until after the physician left. Your flesh was still raw and ravaged. You stayed on your stomach as any brush made the cuts burn. Barnes said nothing, the silence worse than any snipe he could have sent in your direction. He only tutted as you tried to cover yourself with a blanket and snatched it back.

He paced and gulped from the bottle. He looked out the window at the sun and sighed. He went to the door without looking back at you. “I must see to my host,” he said, “do not think you will get past this door should you have the gull to emerge as you are.”

“My lord,” you sniffed as he awaited your response in the pressing silence.

The door announced his leave and you pushed yourself up carefully. You groaned at every movement and looked around the chamber. Your clothing, even if they had been sheared near in half, was gone. The physician had removed your shoes and stockings, your blood stained along the top of the latter. You quivered as you stood and walked on your hollow legs.

You peeked out around the window frame onto the green, the autumn blaring in russet, amber, and gold. You kicked yourself for staying so long. You had days to plan your flight. You couldn’t have truly believed that you’d never be discovered so close to Barnes’ lands. Even on the far coast, you would never be certain.

You went back to the bed, unable to sit, and languished in your discomfort. When the door opened again, you kept your eyes to the floor, legs and arms crossed as your only defense. Barnes entered and latched the door. He walked around the room and sat to remove his boots. You winced as you felt the bed shift behind you.

You gasped as his fingers grazed the lashes across your rear, his touch as hot as your skin. He pressed firmer until you cried out louder and he retracted his hand. He harrumphed and leaned against the carved headboard.

“Why did you run?” he asked, “I did not hurt you. I offered you what any of your bearing would be honoured to have. You spurned me and made a fool of me.”

“My lord, I was scared--”

“Scared of what, pray? Did I touch you unkindly?”

“I told you I did not wish for that--”

He slapped your thigh with the back of his hand and you yelped and shook in agony. You folded your legs up and cradled yourself as you braced for another strike.

“It is not upon a servant’s purview to refuse her master, you say ‘yes, my lord’ and do as he wishes,” he hissed, “you don’t not assault him and make him give chase in little more than his cloth.”

“I am so sorry,” you wisped as you whimpered, “I am so very sorry.”

“You sob and grovel, you whine and blubber, and yet I don’t believe you,” he snarled, “my most obedient servant, you betrayed me wholly.”

“My lord,” it was all you could say. If you argued, it would goad him further and it was, as he said, uncouth for any servants to speak back against their master.

“And now, you lay with your back to me and would not look at me,” he continued, “you were well trained, you are aware that it is an offense to present me with the back of your head so boldly.”

You uncrossed your arms and pushed your legs down. You rolled onto your back and exclaimed at how it hurt. You sat up with effort and kept your eyes on the blankets. You bowed your head and awaited further remonstrance.

“My apologies, my lord,” you murmured.

“Look at me in my eyes, damn you,” he demanded.

Your eyes flicked up and met his. He was angry, more angry than you’d ever seen him, and he was hurt. His jaw tensed and he exhaled sharply as he turned away from you and hung his legs over the bed. He shook his head and raised two fingers to signal you.

“Attend my wardrobe,” he growled, “I am spent.”

You rose and went to him. He let you unbutton his brocade, a garment stiffer than his usual grey jackets. You removed his sleeves and then the vest, and he raised his arm as you lifted his tunic and led it down his metal one. He stood and you fumbled nervously with his breeches. You dumped the garments in the woven basket in the corner and he huffed impatiently.

“Well,” he said, “I require a night shirt… and you’ve not finished.”

You swallowed and went to his trunk. You sorted through the contents and took out a long linen shirt. You neared him and he tore it from your grasp and dropped it on the mattress. He nodded and you caught his intent. You hooked your thumbs in the top of his undershorts and shoved them down in a single swoop. You followed them down and unhooked them from his feet.

He waved you off and unbuckled the straps that held on his artificial limb. It fell away and he plunked it on the square table beside the bed. He sighed and stared through you.

You tugged off his socks last as he sat and stood to retrieve the shirt. He watched you as you opened the hole to pass over his head and he tickled your stomach as he lifted his arm to poke his hand through the fabric.

You let the shirt fall down his torso and he leaned back on the heel of his hand, his member twitching beneath the hem. You kept your eyes straight, afraid to glance directly at him.

“You will sleep on the floor,” he said as he pulled at the wool blanket folded across the bottom of the bed and tossed it onto the stone, “feed the fire before it dies and extinguish the candle.”

You backed away as he slid under the blankets and reclined. You did as he bid and gathered up the thin blanket as you huddled down in front of the hearth. You wanted to cry but had no tears left. If you had only relented to his whims, he might still treat as more than a nippy dog.

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anathemafiction · 3 years ago

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I just wanted to pop in and say I’m so proud that you were so focused and intent on finishing everything and got it all done! Please take time to take care of yourself and relax because you absolutely deserve it!! ❤️

Thank you so much!!! And thank you, also, everyone who left a comment on the submission post. I can't tag you all individually, but I appreciate it so much, plus all the tags on the reblogs!!!

It's just so humbling and amazing how so many people seem as excited for this book as I am! It means the whole world, so thank you again, and I'm sorry for being so repetitive, but there are no other words in this language that can even begin to translate what I'm feeling. Thus a simple and inefficient thank you has to suffice.

I have learned a lot in these last few months. A lot. I can tell you that I'll be doing things very differently for book 2. But, I suppose, that's the only way to really learn: you do, and you make errors, and you're forced to learn from them.

I know that the last stages before submitting the game have been bumpy at best, and it seemed that I was dragging and dragging and finding new issues every step of the way. I did the beta testing way too early and presented what I now considered not only an incomplete game but also an unpolished, almost first-draft mess to a lovely bunch of people who volunteered to help me.

I kept the game for myself for too long and thus skipped over problems that should have been blatantly obvious. I also ignored coding issues for way longer than I should have - because I was scared of them.

All in all, writing is fun. It's what I like to do, but it turns out that making an interactive novel takes way more than just putting a pencil to paper and letting your imagination run to where it wants. Sometimes, you need to rein it in, control it, shape it, change it, delete it, expand it, and then prance it around a group of strangers that will analyze it with fresh eyes and new thoughts, and it's scary, but oh so very necessary.

I've also learned, and I know how crazy this seems, but I learned the value of a proper outline. I'm a very spontaneous kind of writer, things usually just come to me, and I go along with them. Most of my stories start with an image, like the ocean foam on the side of a small fishing boat, or a smell, like freshly cut grass on a field littered with scarecrows, or a dialogue, like a mother saying goodbye to her mother through a gold-encrusted mirror. The Rose started with an image too, and I went along with it.

But a novel, and a series especially, needs more than that. I know the main plot by heart, and I know where I want to go, but the in-between I like to keep vague. Vague is good, but it can't be so foggy that it hides what's three steps ahead of me. So, for Book 2, I'll do what I never did: I'll make an outline of the entire book before starting to write it. Revolutionary, I know. 😄

I'm sure I'll change and add a lot of things as I'm writing, but I have the outline in my head - except a few parts - and I can already tell that is going to help a lot. It will probably mean I'll write faster too.

I also want to have a group of testers that I send the chapters as I write them so that I can immediately get essential feedback. Additionally, I'll edit the chapters as I'm writing- not leave everything for last! Because god, this editing phase almost killed me, and I have an inkling that Book 2 will be even bigger than Book 1. I know exactly where I want to stop, and I don't care how many words it'll take me to get there, I'll reach that point.

Oof, this post is way too big already. I'm sorry for going on a tangent! All this to say: It has been a long journey, but I've enjoyed it very much. I know there hasn't been any new content for months, and I even shortened the demo significantly - it stops at the point where the free trial will end in the published game. To be honest, it's hard to believe people are not only following this blog, but I'm gaining new followers as well - I feel like it's underserved, but I am very grateful.

I can't wait for you all to read the game!! And I can only hope you'll stick around for the rest of the journey. ♡

#did it take me days to read the comments and tags and open my inbox? yes #Idk why I'm always nervous T_T #but everyone is always so nice #ANYWAY #I can't wait to start book 2 xD #I'm forcing myself away from writing tho I need a break #but....#it calls me #personal #The Golden Rose

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jimines · 3 years ago

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Whats actually happened between you and taemaknae? I read about it on the tea blog and still confused

This is an insanely long story so I'm going to put it below the cut so for anyone interested in this absolute shit show, continue on.

Essentially, I posted these headers about a month ago:

It was a set of like 8 colours and it was the first time I had ever posted any headers or anything. The issue nic had with these, was the ripped paper bottom. Because apparently you can trademark that. I had asked a (now ex) “friend” of mine if she knew where I could find the ripped paper effect because I had seen the effect on the header of her network blog and I had been trying to find a similar thing for months and google images never gave me anything good. She ended up referring me to google images anyways and after like an hour of dedicated searching, I found this ripped paper effect and used it. This ex “friend” went on to tell another friend of mine that I had "asked where nicole gets her resources for her headers" and then screenshotted my dm as "proof", which still confuses me because I never mentioned nicole there lmao. I've seen the screenshot.

Tell me where I said nicole. It was literally just a question born from seeing the header they had on their network lmao. I feel it’s important to mention I didn’t know this person ran said network at that time, which is why i said “these people”.

This other friend then came to me and just said my headers "may be seen as similar to nic's” and said she noticed it on her own and never mentioned my other “friend” approaching her. I was confused because other than that ripped paper effect that I know many people on tumblr use, I saw no similarities. Nic's headers are usually more complex and more than just a coloured background with a little effect in it. I just wanted to make some simple headers for fun because I was bored. But, regardless, I messaged nic about it to make sure she didn't feel the same way. I told her a friend of mine was worried nic might think my headers are similar to her's and I assured her that if she found them similar I would take them down, no questions asked. Nic told me she was surprised this friend brought it up and told me that it was entirely up to me if I found the headers similar. She never once told me she felt they were the same, never mentioned anything about them, she insisted it was up to me to do as I pleased. So, since I genuinely found no similarities, I left them up.

About a week went by and things between nic and I were fine, or so I thought, based off the fact that she was interacting with my posts, sending me cute asks and replying to a lot of my comments and stuff being kind and whatnot. Then, I decided to post a small list of my creations and the series I had running at the time.

After that, all of a sudden I got an influx of rude hate anons:

To anyone I mentioned the anons to, they agreed with me, you cannot trademark circular icons. This anon also accused me saying “just the fact that you had an anxiety attack about it proves you copied them” Like no sweetie, it’s called three strangers walked into my house and I got anxious.

Despite me not seeing the issue, I messaged nic, assuming she wouldn't care about the icons (it wasn't like I was taking her exact work and copying and pasting them as my own) and that made her very upset. When she responded to me, she was incredibly heated and gave off the vibe she was waiting for me to message her about it.

She said things like "this has actually been bothering me for a while", "i expected you to be able to read between the lines and delete the headers", "i don't know who that anon was but clearly they recognize my style". For starters, she never told me that she was annoyed with me, she was being very kind to me publicly. And I have no idea how I was meant to “read between the lines” of what she said especially considering how kind she was to me the following days. I also never accused her of knowing this anon, she just insisted it wasn't her and she didn't know them right off the bat. She also insinuated that I copied my gifs from others as well, which ticked me off because I made my 100+ layer psd myself thank you very much. But I kept my cool, and I told her I had no idea she felt the way she did, and I told her I would delete the headers (which i did as the conversation was going on), and that I would stop posting my icons and bringing attention to them because no one ever paid it any mind before that point. And I asked her “please tell me straight up the next time you have an issue with me because I am generally pretty dumb with social cues”, I have my adhd to thank for that. And instead of replying, she just blocked me. And conveniently, the hate anons stopped dead right after we blocked each other and I haven't received any since.

Also, these are the kinds of icons I posted:

Looks pretty generic and idk, universal, right?

Then, as I've recently found out today, she was in an "anti-loverjimin" groupchat with at least 2 other bloggers.

Which explains why this all went and fell into place. I know who the two other bloggers are because of what happened two days later but I won't name them just yet, but these two people had been "friends" with me for several months. So, a day or two after nic blocked me, all of a sudden some good friends of mine were blocking me and not talking to me when I asked what was going on. I found out soon after it was because nicole and those two now ex “friends” of mine had taken old dms I sent them and were showing them to people. And I will go into detail about them but I won't name the people they are about for privacy reasons.

Before I move on, to clarify some lies nic has been spreading about me, I never once shit talked nicole to my friends. One of these ex friends also said I was trying to get people on my side. I would have reacted to this all very very differently if that were the case. I would be dragging everyone through the fucking dirt but I don't get off on drama or micromanaging what my mutuals do. My issues are with these people, if you're still friends with them that's your decision i could not care less. So, back to it, the only thing I said about nic was that she and I had a stupid small fight over icons and that she was spreading lies about me, based off of what nic said to jordan.

That exact message, or slight variations of it, was sent to anyone I interacted with because I didn't know if nic was going to stop at jordan or try and get to everyone I fucking knew lmao. Some of the people I messaged this to told ME nic had done this kind of thing before, that she has sent hate anons, launched hate campaigns, cancelled people, etc. Over stupid shit like icons lmao.

Here are some responses I received after I mentioned nicole:

And nic or one of her friends also took it upon themselves to send anons to that tea blog to blow shit up and named everyone and made it an even bigger mess when they saw no one was actively trying to fight me after the dms got out.

I also love that in this following ask, they named my two “friends” that were behind the whole dm drama and backstabbed me, as well as two other people I never badmouthed, that story was twisted. But we’ll get into those details shortly.

And she also told people I clout chased big blogs and only cared about notes. At one point, yes, I did care a lot about my statistics. However, never once did I think clout chasing was worth my fucking time or energy, Nic is the biggest clout chaser on this damn site and there are receipts of that, ask jordan lmao. And I couldn’t give two shits about my statistics anymore lmao, much less anxiety that way. Do I still crave validation sometimes? Sure. But it's not a driving force of my tumblr experience like it used to be.

But, moving on to the dms, the first one was sent when I first came back to tumblr full-time and didn't understand why people self reblogged things, I found the pretence of self reblogging annoying and greedy and I complained about it and it was a comment fuelled by two bloggers that i would see sr a lot on my dash. But I never thought THEY were annoying, as these people are saying I did, it was self reblogging I found annoying and as you can see I have come to understand why people sr and I do it myself too. I didn't even know these two bloggers at this time either. That dm was cropped to hide the fact that this "friend" agreed with me and hid the date as well so it seemed recent, and was sent to one of the bloggers I mentioned as an example, someone I had since become good friends with.

I didn’t befriend one of the people I mentioned there until mid to late June. That friendship is now over thanks to this drama and all the lies. The second friend of mine they went after was never spoken about in dms, they went and turned her against me through lies and manipulation so that friendship has ended too. And while those two were doing that, nic went off to try and turn jordan against me.

There was a particular user on here that I did say some nasty things about but we weren't friends, as many people have been made to believe. I was particularly mad at this person in those dms and was hurtful, I admit, and I have since apologized and owned up to all of it to these people. I did call them fake and/or two-faced.

And what in the gassing me up bullshit was their response though lmao. I also sent this following dm before I even talked about the issue with this person. They urged me to continue and to name drop the person, and I stupidly thought they were trustworthy.

My reasoning for what I said wasn't unwarranted though, I don't make a habit of going around shit-talking people, unless they do something to me first. I vent when I am upset and this person had sent me a passive aggressive ask and then denied sending it when I asked and I thought that was just very fake, especially since she was so kind to me in dms before the ask came in. But all of these dms were cropped too to hide timestamps and responses, and in most cases, like those screenshots prove, these "friends" either gassed me up or egged me on to continue ranting or to name the people i was mad at and they had agreed with me on several, several occasions. Turns out they were trying to get dirt on me to use in their cancel campaign. But the point is, nic has made me out to be this horrible person that befriends "big blogs" (an overrated statement) and then shit talks them behind their back without remorse. Yet it was one person I said rude things about and I, again, owned up to it all and apologized to them the first day. I would've done it sooner had I a) remembered feeling the way I did all those months ago or remembered the dms themselves or b) felt that way still after meeting them. But neither is the case.

I find it really amusing though that these people wanted things to be kept quiet and didn’t want anyone they spoke to to talk to me about it because I was going to “out them on my blog” and “make a big scene”, then they three went and made it a big fucking scene and ruined my friendships. I’m familiar with this pattern of manipulation as it has happened to me in real life before and it’s the most childish bullshit to witness.

Before this callout day for nic, I had never once been directly rude to or about her, same goes for those ex “friends” that betrayed my trust and friendship. The fact that they plotted against me in a group chat while still actively talking to me and being all buddy buddy is just disgusting. Both of them were talking to me that day at the same time they were sharing the dms and shit-talking me to my friends. But yeah, that's my side, the untwisted side, of the whole story. I tried to be mature and talk to nic and when I didn't do what she wanted me to do, she blocked me and launched the hate campaign with dms and the power of photoshop. I’ve been hesitant to make any of this public because it was meant to be a silent ordeal but I’ve grown tired of her constantly publicizing everything without consequence while I remain silent like I promised.

#anon #replied💌#tw:negativity #drama #long post #read at your own risk aha #its a shit show #idc if you rb it #pinning temporarily for the next day(sih)#ish*#edited with screenshots and whatnot that i forgot i had on my phone lmao

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joyfulhopelox · 4 years ago

Text

"I've never cried over a broken dryer before"- "and you better not start now"

gif not mine cr. belongs to owner

Part 1 | Part 2

A/N: got nothing to say for myself really, just listened to a song, the idea hit me and i haven't written anything non science related in a decade so i gave it another go....that being said i realised i am awful at emotions lol. Side note i am from the UK so if some things seem off i apologise

Copyrights @joyfulhopelox

Pairing: Jungkook x reader (College!AU/ University!AU)

Warnings: ? mentions of skin? terrible fluff and flirting attempts

Word count: idk, it would not stop ~4k

A bop. A bop and some alcohol. That is all you needed after a long tiring week of studying for finals and cramming for your practical assessments. This week had been the last week of exam season and you were more than grateful that it had ended. You did not particularly care about how you’ve done on the assessments. That was not your present self’s problem, that was something for future you to worry about. Presently you just wanted to take a nap and head out with your girlfriends on a night out to just dance and drink all the stress away.

You weren’t a drinker, not by a long shot. You barely touched alcohol once or twice a month, and that happened mainly when you would have a get together with your friends. It was hard not to get sucked in when everything around you was so loud and chaotic it made you want to be part of the chaos not just an observer. You’ve done the whole ‘being sober whilst your friends got drunk’ and you swore to yourself it would never happen again. Funny how nights out looked disgusting and cliche when you were actually awake to witness them. From the group who ended up dancing on the tables, to the group who dispersed to hunt for one night stands, to the group who decided to pass out at the bar or in the toilets and then you, the sober one left to pick everyone up and send them back home safely and make sure than no one got into a fight. You sometimes wondered how the hell you got home alright when you ended up actually drinking on these nights out as none of your friends seemed willing to stay sober and watch over you. For once, you were not going to question your luck and just roll with it.

Before you settled for a nap though you knew you had to go downstairs to do your washing. Being a student during exam season meant you were surviving on microwavable food, lots of caffeine, sugar in all sorts of forms and that your tiny dorm room looked as if a hurricane has passed through it with dirty clothes all over the place and bedding that has been left unwashed for at least 2 weeks. You felt disgusting and unfortunately the neat freak in you kicked in, unsuppressed anymore by your pre-exam anxiety. With a sigh you started undoing your bedsheets and stashing them in a basket along with other bits and pieces of clothes. Making sure that you got your laundry detergent and your key card you started lugging the basket out of your room praying to the Gods that the lift was not broken.

Living on the 8th floor had its perks, but not when you were in a sleep deprived hurry. All you could do is check the numbers going down to the lower ground hoping that the lift would not stop at any other floor. But of course your luck would run out, on 3rd floor the lift slowed down and stopped, making you release an angry huff. ‘Of course it would’ you muttered to yourself as the doors opened only to reveal a tall men impatiently tapping his foot. Huffing he too got into the elevator making you aware of his stature. He may have not been as tall as some of the men you’ve seen but he was clearly working out as his muscles made him look way broader than his stature permitted. A gym rat, you rolled your eyes and tried to move the laundry bag and yourself into the corner, the space feeling too cramped for your liking. The dragging sound of the bag made the person turn around and give you a curious glance which you dismissed quickly. You weren’t interested in conversing with strangers on a normal basis let alone a gym rat. Nothing against them, you just had nothing in common and your tired brain did not want to make up a polite small talk.

‘Lower ground?’ the person asked you, surprisingly the voice was soft and clear, something you had not expected of him. It made you glance at him, ‘yeah’ you nodded after composing yourself. The person nodded making their long bangs fall into their eyes which prompted the next two surprises for you; in an attempt to settle his bangs out of his face he not only revealed a muscular defined arm which you’d have to admit was kind of attractive- you’d have to be blind not to notice, but also an array of random tattoos all over his arm and hand. The other surprise hit you a moment later after you realised you’ve been staring at him for a second too long and you sniffed and turned your face away. The smell of alcohol was coming off of him strongly as if he’s been drinking for a few days straight and his pores exuded it. It took you all you had to not cough. Frat boy, gym rat- this guy was ticking all the ‘no no’ boxes and so regardless of how good looking he was he did not deserve second thoughts.

Your prayers being answered, you reached lower ground quicker than expected and you prepared yourself to rush out of the lift. However, the clothes basket was heavier than you’d thought so instead of a swift exit like you’ve planned, you closely resembled Santa dragging his toy sack.

‘Would you like some help with that?’ the guy who’d turned around and observed you amusedly as you struggled extended a hand in your direction. You huffed and dropped the basket on the floor and couldn’t help but notice the basket he held in one hand and how the effort made his muscles and veiny arms that much more noticeable. Hot.

‘’S all good thanks’ however, you were not going to accept his help. You just wanted to get these damn clothes in the wash so you could go and nap away the remainder of your post exam stress. The guy held your gaze for a second too long before he raised an eyebrow and looked unconvincingly at your basket and your face, which was red by now you’d presume. Then shrugging he carried on walking towards the laundry room getting further and further out of your view, and you could have sworn there was an extra spring in his step. That fucker.

After monumental efforts you managed to drag everything to the laundry room only to notice that it had been left propped open by an empty bottle. Entering with difficulty you made your way to the closest washer available and dropped the laundry basket on the floor with a relieved sigh. Bending down to start putting your clothes in, you could definitely hear a snicker behind you. Whas that….? Of course it was, you were the only two souls in there. Everyone else was probably either enjoying some much needed sleep or partying the evening away already. Deciding to ignore him you continued to pile your clothes into the machine and soon enough you got distracted so much so that you did not realise you had started humming.

‘Nice voice you got there, but do both of us a favour, leave it for when you’re on your own will you?’ another snicker from behind. Flustered you whipped around, ‘what?’ his gaze on you held a smouldering effect making you feel as if you were pinned down by just its sheer force. His dark eyes, whilst amused, were also narrowed on your form as if commanding you to listen to what he was saying. Your breath hitched and as much as you’d tried to shrug off the feeling and the temptation to not listen to him and turn around, you found yourself unable to. Trying to hold his gaze your eyes wavered for a split second when the tip of his tongue peeked out from between his lips to wet the lower one. A gesture so fleeting, done as if by habit, but paired with the intense gaze it had your throat constrict and your instincts had been to follow his moves, your own tongue coming out to lick your own suddenly dry lips.

Had you intended to do this to toy with him? No. Has it worked? Judging by the way his eyes travelled slowly and purposefully down your face towards your lips, you could swear it has. Refusing to give him more vulnerability than that you turned around with tremendous efforts and continued pilling clothes into the washer completely missing the way he stared at your ass that was now on display. Biting his lip he gave you another once over before returning to his own washing.

You couldn’t help to glance his way every time you would turn around to pick up more clothes out of the basket. He was sporting a concentrated face, his lower lip caught between his teeth, his broad shoulders and the way his arm muscles were defined by the effort were making you breathless. However, what made your head spin and your heart to skip too many beats for it to be healthy was what happened next. You blame your bad luck - or good luck- for glancing at him only to catch him grab his shirt and give it a tentative sniff and a shrug. So he knew he reeked, but your snicker turned into a hiccup as soon as he had grabbed the hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head.

Normally a situation like this wouldn’t phase you, you have seen plenty of men naked. But this one, this one was a special one. His bunny like features, defined nose bridge, jawline and floppy but rugged hair were a complete contrast to his defined jawline and...oh lord….were those six or eight abs??

‘What in the name of abs are you doing?’ sputtering you turned to fully face him. What a mistake. He did the same so now you had a full frontal view, first row, VIP seat to his naked upper body. That was definitely a six abs package. Shrugging, which by lord made everything tense up in ways you did not need to see, he threw the longsleeve into the wash and slammed it shut. All that did not take more than 5 seconds but to you, it seemed like a slowed down eternity in which your eyes got a good view of a muscular anatomy.

‘What, it’s dirty and i’m doing my washing?’ he stated as if it was plain as day and absolutely normal to get naked in the laundry room.’In the name of abs? Should i be calling you a peeping Tom?’ A slow forming smirk that made him look dangerously mischievous made its way onto his face.

‘Pffft, what? I said in the name of gods, what are you on about? Why would I be looking at you, whilst you think it’s perfectly fine to strip in a public place??’ he laughed at your clear distress but chose to not to mention your choice of words. ‘Hardly public is it? There’s just you and i in here’ he rebutted whilst turning around to scan his laundry card onto the machine and pressed start. You scoffed indignantly, ‘what am i chopped liver? I’m not goddamn blind’ you mumbled, not for his ears but instead chose to say out loud, ‘what about the poor souls who will see you in the lift back up? Is that not a public place?’

Unbeknownst to you he had clearly heard your previous statement, his smirk once again widening, so you had actually been looking. Good. Clearing his throat he put on as much of a serious face as he could ‘I think it’s unfair to call them poor, this is not cheap accommodation, if they live here it is clear that they are anything but poor’ he knew what you’d meant by poor, but just the annoyed tick in your eyebrow that appeared at his statement was worth it. Choosing to stay silent instead of taking the bait, you returned to your laundry. Only to curse out loud- you had finished it and upon scouring your belongings haphazardly you realised your card was missing. Vaguely remembering you had only taken your room card you groaned, this was not how you’d intended to spend your afternoon before the party.

Without a second’s notice, a tattooed hand with a card appeared before your eyes and the washing machine burst to life. Indignantly you whipped your head around to look at the owner of said hand, ‘what are you doing?’ only to come face to face with the end of a defined collarbone and jawline. And by all that is saintfully just, the line of his throat was just as attractive as the whole of the man. Being this close to him rendered you absolutely useless, jumbled thoughts ranging from ‘i need to pay him back’ to ‘what is he even doing’ to settle in the end to a single thought which you also voiced out loud without even thinking. ‘Your moles are pretty’. You had managed to get past the expanse of his neck to the outline of his lower lip when you noticed his mole, and to your defense- it was cute, but with the whole package, cute is the last word you had in mind. More like- it added a completeness that you would not think he needed but there it was.

He swallowed thickly, enjoying for a second too long the glazed look you had on your face as you said that. ‘And you have nice eyes’ he retaliates even though this is the first time he’s had a closeup look at them. Bright and sparkly, unknown to the both of you, a mirror of each other’s. Sparkly with a promise of something. Something which would have to wait for….if you had your way, forever, if he had his way- a second. You finally willed your legs to step aside and away from the unclothed man.

‘Uh-thanks’ you never stutter, but something about the heavy and thick air around makes it hard to take controlled breaths. ‘For the washing i mean’ you correct yourself. You will never admit to him out loud that him complimenting your eyes made your heart stumble and your brain freeze. You turned around to escape the situation, completely missing the amused expression on the man’s face. ‘You are welcome’ he extends his hand out walking to your side not missing the way you try to put some distance in between the two of you.

‘I’m Jungkook’ he smiles, a complete 180 from his appearance, his smile was warm and genuine, the type of smile that is reflected not only in his eyes but his whole face. His nose scrunches up too cutely, you think to yourself. He somehow resembles a bunny? Mustering up all the courage and bravery your heart still had, you grasp his hand. Hm, soft, odd for a gym head. You knew what he was asking for, but you would not give it to him. As cute as he is, you still tried to tell yourself you were unimpressed. ‘And i’m a poor soul who lives in this block of flats’ you mutter ‘i will pay you back for the washing’.

As soon as you reached your tiny cramped room and settled down for that nap you’ve been craving, you could not help but replay the last words he said to you, sounding way too smug for his own good. ‘Is that you telling me to put a shirt on for your sake?’

#bts #jungkook #bts jungkook #btsxreader #bts scenario #bts x reader scenario #jungkook x reader #was not intending to post this but my cat made me #bts fluff #bts x you #jungkook x you #somewhat crack #lox writings #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook fluff #jungkook fluff #jungkook fic #fic #fluff

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danniburgh · 4 years ago

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Rushingly Bittersweet (Javier Peña x f!reader) part 21

Pairing: Javier Peña x ofc//f!reader with name.

Summary: After the fall of Escobar everything starts happening way too fast for Javier; his raise, his new office, his new team, the Cali cartel’s operation, the sudden arrival of a new agent that was transferred to his team for no apparent reason, the way he was falling in love with her almost unintentionally.

And he couldn’t seem to stop any of that.

Word count: +4.9k

Chapter warnings: uhm, this chapter is Javier’s perspective ehehe, so, beware fo feelings

A/N: This chapter is set in season three, episode ten. // again, i am really fucking sorry, but we are ALMOST DONE OMG, also i wanna say thanks to my official cheerleaders @queenofthefaceless and @maharani-radha-writes that helped me a lot and @alliterative-albatross that made me feel sure of some of the ideas i had for this chapter, i love you lots, guys. While proof reading this chapter for the first time i understood why it was the hardest to write, it was because i had just to strip myself naked and understand more of Javier Peña as i had built him... i just... im not quite pleased with the second half of this, but i know its needed.

ao3 // fic index // Masterlist // fic playlist

comments and reblogs are eternally appreciated 💓 let me know if you wanna be tagged

←previous // next→

gif: @javier-pena (thank you so much for making this when i needed it the most, ily)

The air weighed on his chest; he felt his lungs struggling to find air; as he drove home, he felt his heart pounding hard and fast, as if it wanted to rip out of his chest and run and hide and die.

As if his heart wanted the same he did.

Javier couldn’t sleep that night. He didn’t even try to close his eyes after climbing into bed.

Every time he closed his eyes, he saw you.

Jesus Christ.

His mind was reeling, he couldn’t stop replaying every single thing you told him in his mind.

“My name is not Florencia Martín”

“A precarious situation”

“Another Los Pepes scenario”

“You do care, you care a lot”

He wanted to crawl into a deep hole and bury himself to stop his body from feeling.

Javier cringed deeply when he remembered he had told you he had fallen in love with you without even thinking about it.

That certainly wasn’t the way you were supposed to find out.

He guessed, while tossing around on his bed, on the same sheets that still smelled like you, that he had it coming. He probably deserved it. But that didn’t make him feel any better, it stung.

It burned.

Javier had stripped himself naked for you, more than just his body, he had let you see him; he had let you touch him; he had let you read him; he had let you know him.

He had let himself feel and… he had let himself think he deserved something good.

He felt like such an idiot, stupid and embarrassed because there you had been… Standing in front of him, in a place he thought it would become something close to his fortress, breaking him. And he let you.

God. He had known you for less than six months, and yet he let you have power over him. All that power to make him whatever you wanted. He had handed you a sledgehammer and his heart and soul on a porcelain platter for you to shatter.

And he just took it.

Javier huffed at his own thoughts while his eyes were glued to the ceiling.

He was an idiot, wasn’t he? Having let himself feel all those things he had been so beware of for a woman he never really knew.

What else was fake about you?

He felt that sting, known and oh so foreign clench in his throat and he fought it. He fought it hard. Why was he feeling like that?

“A precarious situation”

“You do care, you care a lot”

He sat up and brought his knees to his chest, clenching his jaw so tight his face started trembling.

He had to unclench it so he could open his mouth and gasp for air because his lungs were tightening in his chest and he knew he just had to let go. He shook his head to nothing and fought it again. He would not break. He couldn’t.

But then he remembered he was all alone. Just him and his mind and... he stopped fighting for the first time in years and allowed his feelings to pour down from his eyes.

Javier clenched his jaw again as he felt the thick, years old tears pouring and pouring, clouding his sight, flooding his face.

“Fuck,” he muttered to nothing, resting his face on his hand and his arm on his knee, his chest struggling with the silent sobs he was drowning in.

Javier cried for around an hour.

He allowed himself to cry, to cry for you, because if he had allowed himself to fall in love with you and he had allowed you to wield power over him, he deserved a chance to fall apart as well.

He had earned it.

His tears of grief and pain became tears of anger and pain.

He was so angry; at himself, because, thinking again about everything you had told him, you had said something right; he had dragged you into having whatever the hell you two had. He had kissed you and practically turned your wrist into starting something with him only, and just only because he felt lonely. Because he felt like maybe, for the first time in decades, he could have something good. Because he felt like maybe it was time for him to love and be loved again when, in reality, he didn’t deserve to be loved by anyone.

He had let himself believe you could be something else, less complicated. But how wrong he was… Him? Loved? As if. Him? In Colombia? Laughable.

That country… It became more than clear how much he had lost by going down there.

He huffed again in between tears at how it took a massive hit to the heart for him to realize how much he had lost in the years he had been there.

He was so angry; at the system. The fucking system that forced you and him into taking assignments you didn’t deserve to take. There wasn’t another moment he hated more right then, than the moment he had said yes to returning to Colombia. His dad was right, he didn’t like what he found. And it truly changed him before he could change it. How he wanted to have listened to him, how he wanted to not be the stubborn ass he was and just… said no.

And you? You had taken an assignment that promised unreachable things, one that forced you into turning into a liar, one that didn’t let you be yourself.

Fuck, was he really trying to find justifications for what you did even though you had broken him in pieces?

He was so angry; at you. For lying to him and from dropping the facade, for taking off the mask that he had rushed to love, for thinking he deserved the truth instead of you leaving once everything was over. He thought it would have hurt less if you had just… disappeared.

He wouldn’t be crying at three in the morning on his bed if you had just vanished into thin air.

Javier remembered seeing the hope in your eyes when you were telling him the truth, who you really were, he saw it and he wanted to tell you he forgave you. But neither of you deserved something that good.

He was sure it all was some kind of karma. A penance for all his sins, a way too high price he had to pay for all the shit he had done.

He realized then, while sitting on his bed in the middle of the night, the same one he had shared with you for nights that felt burned into his memory, that you and him weren’t so different.

That you two had more in common than he had first thought. That you, as he had said to you before, when you were still wrapped around his arms on that same bed, were a person who was willing to do anything for a greater cause. That you as well were capable of doing anything if you thought it did good, that you also were capable of sacrifice, of losing everything as long as you were doing what you thought was the right thing.

And you had told him, as you cried your eyes out in front of him, facing him and facing and taking all the repercussions of your actions, that you really thought it was the right thing to do.

The realization was truly bittersweet. He didn’t like that even when you had broken his heart and stepped on the pieces as you walked out, he still understood why you did it.

After that despaired, miserable night, he decided he was done bringing you to the front of his mind, so he shoved all the memories of you and tried to repress them in the back of his head along with countless others he didn’t rather to address.

The next day he stepped into the office with less than half an hour of sleep he had seemed to catch while condemning himself in the solitude of his room and avoided looking at your still cluttered desk. Full of you.

He ignored Stoddard when he asked him where you were as he stepped out of the office to head to Cali an hour later and while the elevator brought him down to the lobby he tried to drown the way the mention of your fake name made him feel.

That morning you walked directly to the CIA office, every step you gave into the embassy hurt in your body, mind and soul as if each one had a dagger embedded deeply and an invisible hand was twisting each dagger deeper. You felt the weight of the world on your shoulders. You entered, unannounced, into Stechner’s office, not even trying to hide the enormous amount of pain you were going through. You were tired of hiding things.

“Ah, my favorite DEA agent,” Stechner said when he saw you walk in “well, not anymore, I guess.” he smirked and you felt his gaze linger on your body, shamelessly.

“Let’s just get this over with.” you muttered, crossing your arms on your chest.

“Oh, this is more than over, alright?” the man leaned back on his chair and reached a manila folder that rested on top of others on his desk and raised it so you could see it “resignation, what a word,” he said, putting the folder back on the desk, opening the folder and taking the sole sheet of paper on his hand “really? after you failed almost epically?” Stechner smiled humorlessly and took your resignation letter in both hands and… ripped it in half.

You drowned a gasp.

“You have a flight to Washington today at noon.” he let out softly, feigning a comprehensive tone.

“Of course I do.” you mumbled, dropping your arms to the sides, feeling your eyes flood with tears as you saw him tossing the parts of your resignation letter in the trash can.

You blinked the tears away and quietly took a deep breath, halfway achieving a fake sense of stability you had fed yourself since the night before.

What were you thinking, after everything you did they would have let you get off easy? Of course not you silly girl.

“Oh, honey, you need a hug?” Stechner asked with a teasing gaze and a fake tone of worry “I bet breaking up with Peña really did something on you, you look like a mess”

You tightened your jaw and rolled your hands into fists, Stechner noticed, and his mocking face dropped.

“Anything else?” you asked him, voice hardened, with your eyes staring right into his, admonishing him, warning him. He knew what you were capable of, you knew he did.

He shook his head twice, and you lifted your chin up.

“I really wish you the best, sweetie.” he mumbled, dropping his gaze to his desk and trying to ignore the way your face turned into a scowl at the endearment.

“No, you don’t, you fucker,” you all but growled wanting nothing more than to erase that seemingly permanent smirk off his face that grew after he raised his head to look at you “you’re happy that I’m getting out of here like this,” you chuckled bitterly “you wanted this to happen, I hope you’re satisfied.” you let out all the venom you had been keeping inside you for that man in the last sentence you spat to him.

“You’re right, but I won’t say it,” he tutted and shook his head slowly “you really cost us a lot, sweetheart,” he mumbled and you were sure you were about to spit foam from the rage inside you “I hope you know that.”

You sighed and smiled bitterly at the man. Ever so fucking disgusting. For the first time in your life, you wanted something bad to happen to someone. And you didn’t regret it.

“I won’t ever forget it.” you spat at him in a soft voice that made him glare at you with a serious face.

You turned around and walked out of his office, leaving the door open, feeling his stare on your back.

Feeling, then more than ever, the insides of your mind finishing crashing down. Finally broken. Fully broken.

You walked towards the elevator and pushed the lobby button, hoping to dissolve in the way, hoping the elevator floor would just break and the void swallowed you and your body crashed against the concrete floor of the second basement.

But instead, the doors opened on the DEA floor and Stoddard stepped inside, shooting you a concerned smile as the doors closed.

“Hi, Florencia,” he looked at you and you tried to give him a smile, knowing you failed “you okay?” he asked, you blinked a few times before looking at him. He pushed his glasses up.

“Yeah!” you let out in a squeal “just peachy.” you drifted your eyes away and sighed again.

“I… thought you were in Cali.” Stoddard let out after a few seconds, you turned to see him with your brow furrowed.

“Cali?”

“Well… yeah,” he shrugged “the boss and the guys went back to Cali this morning.”

You let out a sigh, of both relief and worry.

“Oh,” you said under your breath “no, I…” you shook your head and tried to smile at him again and failed, this time he noticed “I needed to take care of something else.”

“I see,” he mumbled, the elevator doors opened and you stepped out “you sure you’re okay?” he asked, looking at you, you nodded several times.

“Yeah, Stod,” you assured him, trying to make him believe it, not quite sure if you believed yourself “I’m fine.”

Stoddard nodded at you as the elevator doors closed and you waved him once goodbye. Knowing it would be the last time. You walked out of the embassy in complete and utter shame, and some part inside you screamed that you deserved it.

Javier rescued another witness that day, because he still wanted to do something right even though he didn’t feel right himself.

But then, after sending Guillermo Pallomari to Miami, he had to return to his office. That place he had thought was his fortress, and then it was turned into… a dungeon.

He didn’t ignore your cluttered desk this time; he was alone in the office, there was no one that could say anything of him if he just… looked around.

A steel cup filled with different colored pens and only red markers, a pile of unsigned DEA reports, in one of the drawers a block of sticky notes running low, the same ones you made notes on and stuck on files when you reviewed them and that Javier hated to see because they were just so fucking bright, your red coffee cup you used when you didn’t have time to grab some at his house because he just kept kissing you until you both were late, which didn't happen at your place because Javier always woke up before you and started the coffee machine, a gun holster you hated to use because it just never clutched the way you wanted to your jeans and a small, brown journal he had never seen before and that he took because there wasn’t anyone that could say anything of him if he just… looked around.

He hesitated for a moment to open the journal, unsure of himself or of what he would find. The first page had your initials, your real initials written on the far left corner and just a list of names he didn’t recognize, next a few scribbles and a phone number. Javier skimmed through the pages and around the middle he found his name. Written in your pretty handwriting, with a few numbers underneath that looked dangerously close to file codes.

He snapped the journal closed and left it where he found it. He shouldn’t have looked.

In his office he found all the documents you had risked so much to gather and all the intel you just handed to him, pretty much as he had handed you his heart.

Javier let out a sigh and grabbed the folders, sitting behind the desk and opening the first one.

He re-read every single piece of information until his eyes stung from the exhaustion, or the cigarette smoke, or maybe more unshed tears he was once again fighting so hard to keep inside him.

Tears of sadness, it was a given. But also anger, and frustration and pain, and, as a bucket of freezing cold water, years of regrets fell on him.

Javier had tried, had tried hard to bury all that shit in some far, deep corner of his mind, as he had tried to bury you and all his memories of the last four? five? months. He really did. But at that moment, sheltered inside an office that didn’t feel like his anymore, past midnight, alone and so damn vulnerable, it all rose to the surface and he found himself drowning inside a sea of his own mistakes and past sins.

It was unbearable to stay there. So he grabbed the files that felt like burning in his hands and took off.

And so, Javier went back to an empty apartment that even though had been his for a long time, felt emptier than it had ever felt without you and reminded him only of you.

Why had he allowed his house to become a fucking shrine to the time you had spent there?

Everytime he looked at everything, from the fucking lamp at the corner of the end table to the damn waterbottle you left the last morning you were there on his kitchen counter, an image of you invaded his mind. Like a suffocating wildfire, spreading with the simplest blow of the wind. Covering him, trapping him, burning him and turning him into ashes.

That night he drank almost all the alcohol he had left in his house and even then, with his body full of booze, his intoxicated mind all the time returned to you. To your face, to your eyes and that color that was so common yet somehow looked so unique, to your voice and how you called his name either on a whisper or on a scold, to your smile and how apparently you had one only for him, to your hands and how you used them one night to touch him and the next morning to grip a gun, to how you drove him crazy from the very beginning. Fuck, he loved you. And he hated you all the same.

You gave him your resignation letter, you had left a job you claimed you loved so much that you had taken on something that did you so much wrong. You quit because of what they made you do, and probably, just probably, he had to do the same. Because of what they did to him.

Was it worth it? Everything he did… Was it worth something? Anything?

He thought again of everything he had done in the past decade and felt sick at what his brain was showing him. It really wasn’t.

The idea of doing something good, doing something that could give him a little peace invaded his mind and he spent half the night thinking of something he could do to finally, finally feel like he was helping.

The next morning he found himself sitting in the conference room with Crosby hovering around him. He huffed at himself, sitting there as if there was nothing wrong going around, with the ambassador looking at him with his ever so present judgemental smirk, as if he wasn't just pieces of a man that put himself together with the weakest glue when he got dressed that morning with less than two hours of sleep after being trapped inside his house that smelled like you with nothing but alcohol and time to think. His pop was right, they did something to him in that country. He just didn’t know what.

“Y’know how many times I’ve gotten a call from the Department of Justice and State the same morning?” Crosby rhetored, Javier looked at him, already tired of the lecture he was about to get “count ‘em on one finger, guess we have you to thank for that.”

Javier dropped his eyes to the oak table in front of him and absentmindedly tried to draw a pattern with the tip of his finger while half listening to Crosby telling him about his meeting with the Colombian president to demand that the gentlemen of Cali stayed in jail. He looked back at his boss and after half a second of pondering he told him he had a draft indictment of the president’s ties with the cartel, omitting the part of the story where he had drafted it half drunk the night before. And of course Crosby laughed at it.

Javier huffed again at himself when Crosby suggested he kept the draft to himself and he felt his blood starting to boil. He sighed and fought the urge to stand up and leave. What was he thinking? That a man like Crosby would back up a man like him? Just like that? What a naïve thought.

“The DOJ’s not gonna topple a government, Agent Peña,” the ambassador told him, obviating the statement, Javier felt his chest turn “you can’t tell me you’re surprised by that.”

“Some part of me was holding out hope, I guess.” he muttered to Crosby, who walked around the table and stood next to him, Javier didn’t even bother to hide his face from him, god how tired he was of hiding.

“Well, you should tell that part to grow the fuck up,” Crosby spat and Javier drowned a bitter chuckle “no, I mean it, Agent Peña, you should be happy,” the ambassador said and Javier frowned at the man “you played the system like a goddamn fiddle, you won.”

Javier opened his mouth to rebut the statement but Crosby just walked behind his chair and left the room, leaving him with the word in his mouth.

He felt his stomach toss in disgust, at his boss, at his job, at himself. Fuck that.

“Yes, sir.” he mumbled under his breath.

Did he really win something? The job that helped him escape from everything, the one at some point of his life felt like a dream, had become a nightmare. The woman he grew to love, after years and years of not feeling that, barely got out of there alive and the name he had whispered in extasis wasn’t even hers. Everything he had once believed in was melting away like wax on a candle and being washed away by a sea of regret, desolation and anger.

Did he really win something when he had lost everything? He had even lost himself in the process of what he and everyone around him had called a once in a lifetime opportunity to end a War that was so familiar to him it almost sat at the table on Thanksgiving with him and his dad.

And when he got out of the conference room, with the weight of the world on his shoulders, the idea of following your steps and quit became a lot more attractive to him.

So he went back to his empty home filled with your memories, resigned that he wouldn’t sleep much that night either, and stood in the middle of the living room, not knowing why he felt like a visitor in his own house, chain smoking, thinking about everything just because he wanted to stop thinking about you.

Javier walked to his window and dwindled himself to watch the cars down the street pass, the city was so unaware of everything. The country was so unaware of how it was being torn apart by the same people that were elected to take care of it. And he was so fucking angry, at everything and everyone, at himself. And so tired. Exhausted.

The phone rang behind him and he didn’t even flinch at the sound, even when practically no one called his house phone. He just let the machine get it.

“Hi, Javi, uhm…” he stiffened in place when he heard your voice and turned his head to eye the cradle “I know you probably don’t wanna listen to me right now but…” you sounded small, your voice sounded thin, Javier turned around and walked towards the phone “uhm, I wanted to apologize again and…” he felt like he couldn’t think, his mind was filled with your voice as if it were a fog that clouded his vision, he wanted to pick the phone up, he wanted to ask you where you were and tell you to come home to him, but his brain wasn’t letting him “I–I’m in Washington and I tho–thought…” his eyes closed on themselves when he heard you sigh and choke down a sob “forget it, uhm, I just… fuck…”

Javier looked at the phone, the sound of static still there, he pondered if he should just swallow his anger and his newfound pride and just pick up.

“I think someone will contact you about this and I just wanted to let you know I–I didn’t tell them anything about... us…” he heard you chuckle softly and he just stood there, rolling his hands into fists, waiting for you to say something else, “I’m sorry, Javi, uhm… I really think I did the right thing by telling you, I’m just sorry it had to be like this…” you sniffed on the phone and Javier sighed, “I guess I also wanted, uhm, to hear your voice… shit.” he closed his eyes and grabbed the phone.

“Hello?” he said and gripped the receiver when the sound of the cut line replied to him.

Javier threw the receiver on the floor and sat on the couch, cursing at himself for his weakness and his hesitation altogether.

He rested his head on his hands while thinking on the few things you had said, if you were in Washington talking to the directives that meant they didn’t let you resign, that meant they were firing you. And you called him to let him know his involvement was minimal, because still after everything you were trying to divert the backlash from him.

God how he was tired.

That’s when he decided, he was going to do it. Not only for what you had made him feel, but because he just needed to leave back all the baggage he had been carrying with him for almost a decade. He needed to let go. He knew it, he needed to free himself of something that turned him entirely into a different person that wasn't even close to what he had been before, because no one else would do it for him.

And he had nothing else to lose. Absolutely nothing.

Once that thought occupied his mind, he finally could lay down on the couch and sleep.

The next morning Javier just re-dressed and called his journalist contact, he had decided, in his pre-sleep haze, that he was just gonna tell the truth. To everyone.

Just as you did with him, he was going to use all the information you had given to him to redeem yourself of your own baggage to get rid of some of his.

Even when he didn’t want to think of you, you were still helping him.

And the truth went out as he told it, and he let himself out of the whole situation by following your steps.

Until the ambassador called him into his office later that day and that time… Javier felt like he could tell the man absolutely anything.

He had nothing else to lose.

When he walked into the office Crosby was watching the news about his little interview. Javier walked and sat in across from him, feeling something that looked like freedom. But his mind was still reeling with guilt and loss.

“You didn’t really call the country that we’re guests in a narco democracy.” Crosby asked without asking, Javier looked at the man and shook his head once.

“Are you sayin’ that it isn’t?” he replied, looking at the ambassador tightening his jaw.

“The state department’s livid.”

Javier nodded a few times.

“Good, they’re responsible,” he let out and shrugged slightly “we all are.”

“Samper is not going anywhere.” Crosby let him know, quite exasperated. Javier dropped his eyes to the man’s desk.

“Well, at least people know the truth.” he said, including himself in the sentence. No more lies.

Javier saw Crosby shake his head and study the four walls that surrounded them, and he caught himself wanting to read him like you would be able to.

“I want you gone, Peña,” the ambassador told him, Javier guessed so “so do the colombians.”

“I understand, sir.” Javier replied and Crosby said nothing else. He looked at the ambassador for a few seconds and saw also a shell of a man. He guesses that it wasn’t so much the job that took a person’s humanity, but the context in which they do it.

He stood up and walked towards the door.

“You know…” Crosby called, Javier turned around “any aspirations you had for your career just got dragged behind the barn and shot.”

Javier licked his lower lip and allowed himself to look intently at the ambassador, the man looked at him with something he thought was pity.

“I resigned from the DEA this morning.”

Crosby stood up straighter when he heard it, Javier said it almost solemnly, and saying it out loud not only made it more real, but it really made him feel light as a feather for the first time since he was a teenager when he walked out of the ambassador’s office for the last time in his life.

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