#thank you to everyone who's given me asks and followed me and liked and reblogged my posts

[shortcakelils]

(this one is from sometime in August ^^^)

(same with this one ^^^)

@mimuo-no @acemakes-art @fifithegreat654 @fizz-wizz-dizz

Thank you guys so much for all of the support! It's cus of you guys that I try to post as often as I can! I love you all and none of the stuff I've done here would have been possible if it weren't for you guys interacting with me and sharing my posts!

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Meet the Family 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

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

Summary: Your boss needs a last-minute favour for the holidays.

Characters: Lloyd Hansen

Note: um I woke up to this in my head. Sorry.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

You honk your horn as another driver slowly veers toward the line. You’re not letting them in. If they can’t weave in, then they aren’t fast enough to leave the slow lane. You sigh and gesture at them as kindly as you can in that instant. You have enough going on. 

Your phone starts to ring. Again. You tap the button on your steering wheel to answer. You would know who it is even without his custom ringtone. Your boss allows no space for breathing, even on a call. 

“How far out are you, pixie?” Lloyd asks as you growl and lean on the gas pedal. You hate driving on the highway, especially at night, and the sky is steadily dimming. 

“Close,” you assure him. “Next exit,” you flip your blinker on. 

“Thank god. You got everything?” 

Yeah, everything you forgot. You don’t give the dry retort aloud. You know better. Where your boss has no filter to be found, you find yourself often censoring yourself. As much for his ego as for others’. Arguing never gets you anywhere. 

“I believe so--” 

“You believe or you do?” He asks impatiently. 

“Mr. Hansen, I got everything on the list,” you assure him. “All with a bow on top.” 

“A life saver, pix, I swear,” he praises, but a compliment from him is rarely genuine, more transactional. You did him a favour so he’ll give you a treat. 

“Alright, I need to get over, ramp’s coming up. So--” 

“Yeah, yeah,” his ends rustles and you hear a muffled female voice, “I got shit going on too. You got the address, text me.” 

He hangs up first. You can never be the first to end the call. He has to make the decisions. You just know how to guide him to the right one. You merge into the exit lane and follow the ramp away from the whirring stream of headlight. Finally. 

You’re less than pleased to be within minutes of your destination. This isn’t how you envisioned your holiday. A last-minute itinerary change to fix yet another of Mr. Hansen’s oversights. It’s never a mistake, he’s just a man with so much going on that it slipped his radar. Another bandage for his ego. 

The slower pace feeds your agitation. At least on the highway, you felt like you were getting somewhere. The lazy roll of the cars in the town tweaks at the nape of your neck. You just want to be in one place and that won’t happen even when you get to Mr. Hansen. 

You’ll be lucky to have two hours of sleep before you have to catch your rebooked flight. Yep. You’ll play Santa and drop off your lot before hiding at the hotel long enough to dread the airport jungle. Then it’s off to your own familial obligations. Those are rarely enjoyable and being a day later than promised will hardly please your mother. 

Your phone announces your arrival at the destination. The long drive of the over-sized suburban mansion is full. You park on the street and turn on the interior light. You get out and open the back seat. The whole medley of shiny paper and quaffed bows stares back at you. 

You text Mr. Hansen and wait, huffing and puffing with impatience. Of course, you have to upheave your plans to meet his deadlines, but he’s taking his time. It’s not a surprise, not even a disappointment, you expected as much. 

“Pixieee,” Lloyd drags out the last syllable, “there you are, pretty pixie.” 

Pretty Pixie? He’s drunk or he’s going to ask for something else. You brace yourself as his shadow struts up the long driveway and passes beneath the cone cast by the tall street lights. Coloured lights glimmer over him from the eaves of the surrounding facades. 

“Mr. Hansen, wrapped, labelled, everything you requested,” you gesture to the backseat. 

“An angel. A true saviour, pixie,” he surprises you as he grabs your head, his palms pressing to your cheeks as he bends to kiss your forehead, “did I ever tell you you’re immaculate?” 

“Mr. Hansen,” you gently pull his wrists until he drops his hands. You smell the alcohol radiating off of him. 

“It’s the holiday, call me Lloyd, sweet cake,” he insists. 

“Right,” you tut and turn to drag out the largest gift bag, “here, you better just take all this, I have to check-in--” 

“About that,” he ignores the gift as you hold it out. “We’re just about to start dinner, you should pop in, have a bite.” 

“I can’t, Mr. Hansen--” 

“Of course you can,” he insists. You look up at him. His eyes gleam in the spectrum of lights shining from your car, the houses, and the tall poles. You sniff. He’s only tipsy, there’s still the hint of authoritarianism firmly implanted in his tone. “I told everyone you would.” 

“Everyone?” You echo anxiously. 

“The family,” he exclaims as if it should be obvious. 

“Okay, I can come say hello but--” you wiggle the bag at him. 

“Damn right you can,” he catches your hand and takes the bag. He drops it on the ground carelessly. 

“Mr. Hansen, that’s fragile,” you say. 

“Shhhh,” he grabs your hand and you curl and unfurl your fingers desperately, “Lloyd, remember?” He feels around in his pocket as he keeps you in his vice, “now, you just need to slip this on.” 

He struggles to line up the ring with your finger as you squirm in confusion. What is he doing? 

“Mr. Han--” 

“Lloyd,” he growls, all humour trickling away. He squeezes until you whimper. “Look, I just need you to smile and bat those long lashes of yours, alright?” 

“What’s going on?” 

“As far as anyone knows, I proposed to you on Thanksgiving,” he says. 

“Proposed?!” You nearly shriek. 

He hushes you again and finally rams the ring down to your knuckle. “Look, pixie, mommy’s being a real pain in my ass so you just need to play along.” 

“Mr.--” 

“If I have to tell you one more time--” 

“Lloyd,” you gulp, “please. I... this is... strange. What? Why? I have a flight in eight hours.” 

“Cancel it,” he sneers. “Double time and a half for holiday overtime. See the family in the New Year.” 

“What? That’s-- This is insane--” 

“This is your job, honey,” he clings to your hand. “To do what I say or you can spend your January trawling the job boards.” He squeezes until the band digs into your flesh. “Now, I know Mr. Walker thinks you’re darling and he offered you a role last year but once I tell him about your little defiance issue, I don’t think he’ll be interested--” 

“Huh?” 

“I know a lot more than you think,” he grits. “Alright? So let’s start getting this shit inside. That’ll give you a chance to get yourself together.” 

“Lloyd,” you gasp. “Why--” 

“No more fucking question. Since when did you get so uppity,” he barks. 

“Sir--” 

“Ah, none of that, either,” he lets you go and waggles his finger in your face. “Relax. Have some eggnog when we get inside and take the edge off.” 

“This can’t be happening,” you murmur. 

“It’s fucking happening, alright?” He picks up the bag off the ground. “I keep you around ‘cause you’re quick on your feet, Pix, so let’s get to it.” 

“Oh god,” you utter. 

“Keep it to yourself,” he warns. 

Your disbelief has you a bit dumb. You’re panicking. He knows you have an insurance policy with Walker and you have no doubt he’ll do all he can to spoil your future if you fuck around with his present. You’ve worked long enough for him to believe his threats, even when everything else is dubious. 

You turn and grab several gifts from the backseat. You move out of his way and he gathers some more himself. He backs up and uses his knee to close the door. He nods you toward the house. 

“Smile, act like you’re excited,” he commands. 

You pass him and stare up at the blaze of holiday lights. The lawn is decorated with a Santa and sleigh, complete with all his reindeer. You make the march up the walk and towards the glowing windows that trim the front door.  

Lloyd comes up next to you and kicks it, “open up.” 

It isn’t long before obedience appears from the other side. You do a double take at the man who answers the door. He looks a lot like Lloyd but not. He doesn’t sport the same bristly stache and his hair neatly combed, the sides unshaved but tidy. He rolls his eyes. 

“Was hoping you got lost in the snow,” the man scoffs. 

“Shut up,” Lloyd shoulders through, “always a fucking prick, Hugh.” 

The other man snarls, “don’t fucking call me that.” 

“Aw, I’m sorry, baby boy,” Lloyd puts the gifts on the bench against the wall, under the large mirror with an elaborate frame. “Why don’t you go suck on mommy’s teat?” 

“You’re disgusting,” the other man, Hugh, hisses. 

“Speak for yourself. We’re the OnlyFans thot? She not joining us?” 

“Oh, fuck you.” 

“Fuck you, fuck me, we already did this, remember?” Lloyd faces him. 

“And who’s this slut?” The man tosses you a sharp glare.  

“Woah, man, that’s my future wife,” Lloyd lies so easily it startles you. He sounds almost genuine and you’ve never heard him sound like that. “Not a slut, so keep your eyes and your hands to yourself.” 

“Huh, I didn’t believe it,” the man puts his hand on his hip as he looks you up and down, “she’s tiny.” 

You narrow your eyes, speechless as they talk about you like a new lamp. 

“Ransom,” Lloyd gestures to him derisively, “Pixie. Now you’ve met so you can skedaddle back to the liquor cabinet.” 

The man, Ransom, snickers, “good luck, sweetheart,” he scoffs. “If you need a drink, just look for me. You probably will. At least for the next forty years.” 

He struts off through the archway behind him and you look at Lloyd. He takes the armful of gifts from you and grumbles. He stops and crosses his arms.  

“Well, get your boots off. Mom will kill you if you’re tracking salt all over her freshly polished floors,” he shakes his head. “And a bit of advice, stay away from my cousin. Ransom’s a fucking pest.” 

“Right, sir.” 

He tilts his head and you show your palms, “Lloyd.” 

“Good girl,” he says and slips free of his loafers. “Now, you’re going to have to meet my parents before anyone else or I won’t hear the end of it. I’ve already got an earful. I know I shoulda booked that resort...” 

You unzip your boots and set them aside on the rack. You stand and he beckons you past the open archway and down the hallway. You take in the decor; gold on beige on ivory. It’s all very luxurious. 

He pushes through a white birch door and warmth enshrines you along with the smell of turkey. There’s a clattering beneath a shrill voice snapping out orders, “oh, not mashed, whipped!” 

A tall blonde woman crosses her arms as she hovers like a vulture over the aproned staff crowded around the large marble island. Lloyd grabs your hand and drags you after him. Your socks slip on the tile as dread coils up your limbs. 

“Mom, she’s here,” he announces as he gets close to her. 

“Ugh, about time, they already set the table and I was dreading the empty plate,” she slithers. She turns her chin down to see you, “Oh, look at her. She’s so... petite.” She levels her hand with the top of your head, “much different than I envisioned.” 

You look at Lloyd as he pushes his shoulders back. You’ve never heard anyone talk to him like that and you’ve never seen him so uptight. You turn your attention back to the woman. 

“Hello, Mrs. Hansen, it’s nice to meet you,” you offer your hand. 

She considers it then grabs it, turning the ring up. You examine the jewel as she does the same, your first glimpse at the thing. She harrumphs, “that’s the ring?” 

“Mom,” Lloyd utters. 

“Mm, very well. Dear, you may call me Gwenyth, not Mrs. Hansen,” she lets you go. “Now, dear son, out of my way. I’m trying to get dinner done.” 

Lloyd stares at her, almost expectantly, the takes your hand again and leads you away. He pulls you back through the door. You don’t dare say a word. He leads you away from the kitchen and the wall of voices buzzing from the front room. He guides you through the archway opposite and around to another door. 

He knocks and there’s a lull as you wait. He taps again. There’s coughing from the other side. “What do you want?” 

“Just me, Dad,” Lloyd answers. 

“Ugh, get in here then,” the timbre calls back. 

Lloyd twists the knob and urges you in ahead of him. The smell of cigar smoke blows in with the cold wind. A gray-haired man puffs by the window, his efforts to puff through the opening sabotaged by the wintry gusts. 

“Close the door. I don’t need the banshee sniffing me out,” he growls. 

“Sure,” Lloyd shuts the door. “Dad, uh, this is her. The woman I told you about. My fiance.” 

“Took you long enough,” the man sneers. You flinch and his grey eyes soften, “him, I mean. Forty-three years--” 

“Dad,” Lloyd rasps. 

“Well,” his father looks you over, “she’s young. Bit small...” 

You do your best not to let your annoyance show. So you’re a little shorter than average. 

“William,” he introduces himself, “and you are?” 

“Pixie,” Lloyd answers for you. 

“Didn’t ask you, boy,” William rebukes and keeps his eyes on you. “You smoke?” 

You mull his question and sigh, “never tried it but I guess it’s never too late to start.” 

William snorts, “truer words.” He puffs, “I don’t recommend it. Horrible habit.” He tamps out the stogie in a copper tray. “Well then, is the food ready, or did you just come to show me your woman?” 

Lloyd stiffens and touches your lower back, “guess I just came to do that.” He mutters, “come on, let’s go get something to drink.” He turns and opens the door. 

“Don’t let the smoke out,” William snips as you spin around. 

[getitoutofmymindwrites]

The crushing | joel miller x f!reader, 5.2k

Summary: This is the story of a man who had everything in the palm of his hand and traded it all for an empty space in the hollow of his heart. Or This story follows Joel, two to three years after he cheated on his wife.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, ANGST, cheater!Joel, Joel's POV, this is NOT “The Falling” from Joel's POV, brief mention of smut (p i v) but nothing too graphic (I think), self-loathing, depression, therapy, flashbacks and memories from the past, alcohol consumption, Tommy being a supportive brother (eventually), as always let me know if I missed anything!

A/N: Ok, so, Joel gave me a whiplash on this one, he was either staring at me through the screen giving me nothing, or he was mumbling unintelligibly in my ear while I was trying to keep up with him. It started out as a final chapter, but I really think that this part should be Joel's POV and the next and -probably- final one should be the resolving, however that may come. I guess it can be read as a standalone, but if you're interested, it's a sequel to “The Falling”. I edited it seven thousand times because I kept adding things along the way, so I hope it all makes some sense and there are not too many mistakes.. Thank you for taking the time to read anything I write! Love you all! 🥰😘

P.S.: I just wanted to take a moment and let you know that I really appreciate everyone who has read, liked, commented, reblogged and asked about “The Falling”. I honestly didn't think a single soul would take the time to read that kind of story. It means more than you know and I didn’t take lightly how close to home this fic hit for some people; yet you’ve given it a chance, sharing some of your own experiences with me. I love you all, take care and I'll see you -hopefully- in the comments! 🥹🫂

Dividers by @cafekitsune & @saradika-graphics

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

previous | next

...need your reassurance...

...your only focus…

...for the foreseeable future...

He did make it his sole focus. Because of course, he closed the deal, even after he left that damn table like a madman. He still found a way to get what he wanted. That's the man he was. And he wasn't sure if he hated himself for it or not. But self-loathing was a daily occurrence now, so one more reason added to the list was nothing he couldn't handle.

For two years he would wake up every day, is it called waking up if he doesn’t sleep at all?, he would work his ass off, he would go home, he would sink into despair and then he would start all over again the next day. A vicious cycle consisting of 730 days in a row. The deafening silence within the walls of the house was excruciating, the loneliness was unbearable. Even the light penetrating through the windows seemed different than when you were there with him, a dullness surrounding every corner of the now barely lived in space.

You. He hadn’t seen your face in 730 days. He hadn’t smelled your scent or touched your soft skin. He barely listened to your voice anymore, any form of unavoidable communication, you preferred to be conducted by the lawyers, or via text messages, at the most. At the 731st one, he finally knew, something had to change. He couldn’t repeat another day, like all the others that came and went. He simply couldn’t.

Tommy suggested that therapy might help Joel, a few times, but he refused every one of them. Maria was keeping her distance, her place was delicate, being his brother’s wife but also his wife’s best friend. Surprisingly, she was the one who finally got through to him.

��Are you gonna stay a recluse for the rest of your miserable life, then?” Maria wonders, switching her gaze between Joel and the dining room. Everything was untouched, as you left them when you moved out, but the place felt empty, depressing, probably mirroring Joel’s existence.

Joel sighs, closing his eyes briefly. “I’m not a recluse..”, he snarls through his teeth, rolling his eyes at her. He was more than eager to be done with the dinner his sister-in-law insisted on having in his house and be left alone, in his natural state. Alone. Infuriating woman.

“What do you call that?”, Maria persists, goddamn lawyer to the bone.

“What?!” Joel spits back pissed off, looking at his brother next, for support.

“That!” she gestures around his body and his surroundings. “The way you go on for the past two years! Either get over it or do something about it!”, she doesn’t hold back, even when Tommy proposes a gentler approach. Yeah, look where it got you, is the paid answer, so Tommy steps back, shaking his head and raising his hands up in surrender.

“You’ve got him on a leash, hm?”, Joel jokes absentmindedly, “Can you breathe alright, Tommy boy?”, earning himself a hard glare from Maria.

“Maybe the wrong Miller is on a leash..” Maria mutters, causing Tommy’s eyes to widen in horror.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”, Joel retorts doing a double back at her.

“Means that freedom is for those who can bear it.”, Maria throws her napkin on her plate and leaves the room. Joel remains silent, pondering the meaning of her words. It would be a long time before he understood what she meant.

Therapy was hard.

Therapy was hard because he had to do it for himself. He had to concentrate on himself. He thought, being the contractor that he was, that he would walk into the room, get the answers he needed and fix his marriage, just as he rearranged the bricks and the wood and the steel on the construction sites.

But this wasn’t about his marriage. His marriage and the way it crumbled down was the aftermath, he came to learn. It was the outcome of insecurities, selfishness, lack of communication, ungratefulness.

He got it all wrong. Everything. Every little thing. He had to rewire his brain and change every point of view he was holding onto. Honesty. Honesty was the key.

“Why didn’t you reach out to your wife after that night?”, his therapist insists.

“I respected her boundaries.”, Joel was quick to respond.

“And what were those?”

“She didn’t want to see me.”

“Did she say that?”

“No-, I mean-, the way she left that night, she didn’t say much in general. But she blocked my number, so.”, he shrugs in defence.

“So, how can you be so sure that she didn't want to see you? Even if you're right, it doesn't mean that she didn't expect a reaction from you, or that you weren't allowed to try, if that’s what you wanted.”

“Why would she? I upset her, she needed time to think, work things out.”, Joel explains.

The therapist swipes her fingers over her lips, contemplating her approach. “Joel, you walk into your bedroom, into what is supposed to be a safe place and you see your partner with another person in an intimate moment. How does that make you feel? Just say the first words that come to mind.”, his therapist changes the point of view.

Joel shudders just at the thought of it. You, naked, flushed, lips parted and swollen, skin sweaty, breaths short and pupils blown wide, coming for anyone other than him. It would utterly destroy him. “Furious, pissed, betrayed, heartbroken.. I think I would lose it, if I’m honest.” he admits instantly, in his haste to throw the abomination of this image from his thoughts.

“I see. But in her case, you think your wife was just upset?”

“No, of course not.” Joel slightly frowns, shaking his head.

“Do you think she felt all those feelings that you just described to me?”

“I believe so, yes.”, god this is so hard.

“You believe so?” the therapist pushes, again.

Joel’s nostrils flare from the sharp inhale, “I know so.”

“So, she wasn’t just upset.” the therapist concludes and Joel agrees without meeting her eyes, “No, she wasn’t.”

Over time, Joel came to realize that his choice of words was a subconscious attempt to diminish the seriousness of his actions.

“You said in a previous session that you gave space to your wife to work things out.”

“Yeah, it was only fair.”, Joel confirms.

“So, it was hard for you to give her that space?”

“Yes, of course, I missed her every day.”

“Was that a constant in your relationship?”, the therapist wonders.

“I’m sorry, I don’t follow.”

“How did you work things out as a couple, before? I assume you had difficult times as partners, no?”

“Nothing major to be honest, my wife was a very calm and reasonable person. If anything occurred she would talk to me about it.”

“And how did you respond to that?”

“Uh, I was there to listen, we always found a solution together as a couple.”

“Hmhm, so, what changed this time?”

“What do you mean?” He knew exactly what she meant.

“Why didn’t you talk to her? Communicate with her? Maybe help her see your side of things, like you did before, find your way out of this together, as partners.” his therapist explains. “And even before the infidelity, did you let her know that something was bothering you, that you felt differently?”

"I didn't feel differently about my wife. My feelings for her never changed.", he immediately corrects her. "My love for her was never the problem," he confesses and it's the first time since his therapy began that he's shared something so personal, so private.

“But there was a problem, something was wrong if you felt the need to be intimate with another woman. So, why did you keep that from her?”

Joel opens his mouth already knowing he does not have an answer. Or that he doesn't want to give one. He shakes his head, raising his brows in a silent admission that he can’t answer that. Or he won't. His gaze is fixed on a loose thread on the fabric of the couch, his fingers keep picking on it.

“Joel?”

“I- I don’t know what you want me to say, I don’t know.” he keeps shaking his head. He can’t answer that. He won't.

He was so angry when he left the session that day. He was so angry at you. He was angry at your honesty, your clarity, your courage to have a mind of your own and to speak it freely, knowing full well that probably no one else shared the same opinions as you did. That's what he loved most about you, but now he hated it.

“Own it, Joel. Own what you have done. At least that way it will be worth something. Otherwise it was all for nothing.”

This was one of the last things you said to him on the phone, while he was trying to persuade you to change your mind about the divorce. You were always so brave about those matters. Matters of the heart, of integrity. He remembers you always talking about things that he found admirable but utopian. Easy in theory, hard in practice.

“I need to be able to sleep at night. I need to own my decisions; not because I’m always right, far from it, but at least I know I’m being honest with myself. And that matters.” he recalls one of your late-night talks.

You usually found it easier to share your most vulnerable thoughts once you were thoroughly fucked and satiated. When Joel held you in his arms, your breaths almost shared over the same pillow, your scents and your fluids mixed together.

“We’re all imperfect beings, flawed; we all feel embarrassed when we fuck up,” you continue, “it’s hard to admit our mistakes to others, I get that. But deep down we always know what we’re doing and why we’re doing it. Admitting it only helps us to be present in our lives.”

“Be present?”, Joel seems fascinated by the way your mind weaves your thoughts together into deeply rooted beliefs.

“Yes, my love, there's no greater freedom than to live your life truthfully.” you smile at him, softly. Your sleepy eyes roam his face affectionately. Your fingertips caress his jawline, your thumb pressing lightly against the bare patch of his beard. He can feel your devotion pouring from your fingers and sinking into his skin at that moment.

“That’s one of my greatest fears, you know. Living my life in ignorance, in a lie.”, you whisper your deepest insecurity against his soft lips. His hold on you tightens as he rolls you onto your back, nestling his hips between your welcoming thighs. You are safe in these arms. His arms. You surrender to him, body and soul. You can feel his growing erection pressing between your folds, already wet from your combined releases. He tenderly brushes his lips against yours and slowly licks his way into your parted mouth, as he intertwines his fingers with yours. He enters you in one fluid, slow thrust, his warm exhale cooling your wet lips. “Then let me give you something real.”

Thinking back to those moments, Joel couldn't reconcile himself to the fact that he was the one who had brought that fear of yours to life. What broke him was that it was not a lie. Your life together had not been a lie. He loved you. In fact, he was burning up for you. He was a man of control, but not with you. Never with you. You consumed his every thought; being around you for too long made his lungs constrict in pain, begging for a deep breath. Sometimes he was worried sick that if he completely let himself love you like he needed to, he would suffocate you. He loved you. And it killed him that his actions suggested otherwise.

But at some point he had to be honest with himself. He was just protecting his ego. He was trying to get the upper hand out of a shitty, compromising situation. He wasn't being thoughtful, he was being selfish. He was biding his time. He thought the longer he left ‘it’ untouched, the less it would hurt when the inevitable time of confrontation came. He was scared out of his mind that he would lose you forever. No second chances, no redemption, no reconciliation.

No lingering scent on his pillow as your hair pools there, under his chin, as you nestle your face between his neck and shoulder, breathing him in. No laughter through the enormous house, damn, why did he build it so big; you never clarified what the disbelief in your eyes meant when he said he built this house for you, while he pulls you up on your feet for a silly cowboy dance.

No more gentle touches, no more noses brushing together as a silent goodbye in the kitchen before you rush off to work. No more turning around just before you open the door to leave, running to him like a little girl, giving him quick, hungry pecks on the lips while he laughs on your mouth, squeezes your butt cheek and slaps it playfully to say goodbye. Later, baby, he would promise you, his teeth nipping at your earlobe and he could feel your skin crawling with anticipation.

No more I love yous, either breathed, either whispered, either panted, as he makes a home for himself inside your warmth.

When did he fuck you last? He used to have you every day. You craved it every day. You craved him. Why did he stop telling you he loved you every chance he got? When was the last time you said it?

A week before that fateful night, when you touched him longingly, aching for him to touch you back and he told you he had work to do, he wasn’t a teenager anymore. Why the hell did he say that? Why did he sit there and watch the light fading from your eyes? I love you, you said with a sigh against his temple and walked out of his office defeated. Why did you say that? Did you know? Did you suspect? Why didn’t you fight him? You should have said something, anything, pushed him, punched him in the chest, woken him up. Would he have woken up? Or did he need that to come to his senses? Does he have to fall? Does this falling ever stop? Does he have to let you go? Will you come back to him? Does he deserve you?

Days blurred seamlessly into one another. Joel drifted further and further away from everyone. The house haunted him, all the progress he was making within the therapy walls was dissipating once he stepped inside the cold space of his empty house. Leaving the confines of it was his first thought in the morning, while he hurriedly dressed to go to his office far earlier than necessary and his last when he closed his eyes, as he laid his weary limbs on the couch, chasing still your now long gone scent on its fabric, knowing another sleepless night was his only companion until the first rays of sunlight hit the floor-to-ceiling windows to announce the beginning of another day.

People at work tiptoed around him, not knowing how to act. It was as if he was there, but not really. He was focused solely on the Marks project, mechanically going through board meetings, paperwork and supervising the construction site. He. Just. Wasn’t. There.

Joel, will you please sign the papers?

He simply stares at the text message for a good full minute, his thumbs hovering over the screen of his phone. This was one of the rare occasions you had initiated communication with him, always about the progress of the divorce.

No, no, I won’t, the little toddler in him screams, stamping his little feet on the ground.

The papers are not ready.

Joel texts back. He keeps it simple, frightened he might not get an answer back.

Joel, we both know they are. I don’t want any of your assets or your money; this is an easy signature, please.

An easy signature? You think he cares about the houses, or the cars, or the money?

You know I can’t accept that. The house is yours and so is a good part of the money.

The point was to share this house together, Joel, don’t you think us splitting up kind of defeats the purpose? And what on earth makes you think I would ever want to go back in there?

So, there’s nothing I can do to make this easier for you?

Easier? You think money or property can make up for what you’ve done?

Of course not, I wasn’t implying anything like that. Just wanna do something for you, anything.

Can you turn back time?

Of course, he can't. So, he doesn't know what to say to that. He just keeps staring at the screen, lost in thought. After 2 minutes another text follows.

?

You know I can’t..

Sign the papers. Please.

“Is there anything in particular you want to talk about today, or should I take the lead?”

“Actually I’ve been thinking a lot about that night.”, Joel suggests for the first time. He usually lets the therapist decide where to steer the conversation, then simply refuses to elaborate until he feels ready to talk.

“What about it?”, he shifts his gaze from the window to the direction of her voice.

“I should probably rephrase that. I’m always thinking about that night, repeating it in my head again and again and I’m troubled by something I realized.”

His therapist nods to signal that she's listening.

“Why did she just leave? The more I think about it, the more it doesn’t make sense to me. She just left. No shouting, no breaking things, no attacking either me or-”, her. “Why she didn’t stay? Why she didn’t insist that I leave? She was just- so quiet.”

The therapist smiles in recognition of Joel's near breakthrough. They were beginning to get somewhere, his empathy nudging him under the surface.

“I'm really glad you mentioned that, Joel, so I'd like to take you back to that night and try to understand what might have been going through your wife's mind at that moment," she explains.

“So, she walks into the house, finds her safe space violated by her husband, and she chooses to handle the situation calmly and quietly-” Joel tries to stop her, but she already knows what he's going to ask. “I can't tell you why she chose that path, that's for her to answer, only she knows why.” His therapist continues, “She is making one request of you and one request only, can you tell me what it is?”

“She asked me to leave the house.”

“Hmhm.” the therapist looks at him expectantly.

“I just wanted to talk to her.”, Joel elaborates, “I thought that if I refused to leave, she would accept to listen to me.”

“So you forced your needs on her, while she was in a particularly fragile state of mind.”

“I should have made my intentions clearer, you mean?”

“I mean, that maybe you shouldn’t have had any expectations in the first place. Why do you think was so important to you, to explain yourself right at that moment?”

“Because I knew it was probably the last time I would see her for a while, I just wanted to ease her pain, why is that so wrong? Should I be indifferent? Would that be better?”

“Did it ever occur to you that you might be depriving her of her right to choose?” Come on, Joel, break some eggs.

Joel now begins to make connections. He rubs his hand over his face, the realization of what has really happened crushing him. “Oh, god, I-” He's been so selfish from the start. He hasn't shown you any respect, not even at this delicate moment. He didn't give you a choice as to whether you wanted to listen to him or not. He didn't even let you choose where you wanted to stay. He just made you leave the house. Did he make you believe he wanted you to leave? That he wanted her to stay? Because he didn’t. Fuck. “-I never thought about it like that.”

Fuck.

How could he be so blind? Why was he so blind?

His therapist insisted on it. Because no matter how much progress Joel made over the course of a year, he never revealed the true reason behind his infidelity.

“Joel, we’ve talked about a lot of things; you’ve tried really hard to make this all about your wife and about understanding what she was feeling and how your actions have affected her, but as I keep reminding you”, she smiles understandingly, “you’re the one in therapy, you need to heal your wounds before you even attempt to heal hers. And although it is in fact a really noble thought, this” she gestures between them, “can only work if you do it for yourself. I know it may sound selfish, but I promise you, it is not. It is the exact opposite.”

Fuck.

“Yeah?”, his voice hoarse from sleep as he answers the door after the insistent knock at it. Tommy looks at him surprised once he opens it, “You’re sleeping, already?”. No, he wasn’t. He wouldn’t call it that. But when he goes almost a week without any proper rest, passing out is the right word for what he’s doing. “Yeah, I guess I dosed off..” Joel lies. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to see you.” Tommy responds as he squeezes himself through the door to enter the house. “Yeah, sure, come on in.”, Joel mutters under his breath. “You just saw me at work this morning, is everything all right?”

“I just came to check on you.” Tommy confesses uncomfortably.

“You could have called.”

“Would you have answered?” Tommy deadpans.

Touché.

“Tell Maria I’m fine, Tommy, no need to worry about me; go spend the night where it counts.”, Joel replies in an attempt to push him away, as he walks farther into the house, rounding the kitchen island.

“Hey, brother, I’m here, I am here for you.” Tommy’s eyes narrow in pain and concern as he stares at his sibling's back, following behind him.

Joel exhales hard through his nose, his grip tight as he grabs the edges of the counter, his head lowering between his shoulder blades.

“You shouldn’t, nobody should.” Joel sighs, rubbing the pads of his fingers across his forehead.

“Ok, that’s enough.” Tommy snaps at him. “Enough self-loathing, enough resignation. Enough. You’ve punished yourself enough.”

Joel laughs at that. “Is that right? Is it enough for you? What about her?” he asks, his head turned to the side, looking at his brother over his shoulder.

“What?” Tommy is genuinely confused.

Joel turns his back, resting his waist on the edge of the counter, now looking straight at Tommy. “I should have what? Just get on with my life? Let it all be water under the bridge? Disrespect her even more?”

“Jesus..” Tommy mutters, pinching the bridge of his nose with one hand, the other resting on his hip, his eyes shut in frustration.

“Are you doing this for her? Does she even know that?”

“It doesn’t matter, Tommy!” Joel raises his voice, exasperated. “I’m not doing this for her, I’m not doing anything for her, apparently and that’s the problem.”, his voice breaks, the lump in his throat too big to push down. “She’s not here anymore, Tommy.” he’s standing fully on his feet now, pushing himself away from the counter, leaning slightly forward, like he’s trying to make his brother understand; his eyes are glazed, Tommy had never seen him so devastated before. “She’s gone. I’ve lost her.”, his palms clenched in fists in front of his chest, resisting the urge to wrap them around his shirt and rip it to shreds, as he wants to do with his heart.

“I thought therapy was working..” Tommy whispers, his eyes dropping to the floor beneath him.

“Oh, it’s working, all right!” Joel chuckles in irony, sniffing his nose. “I’m getting a front-row seat, witnessing what a piece of shit I am-”

“Hey!” Tommy tries to cut him off.

“-what on earth was she doing with me to begin with, is beyond me.”

“HEY!” Tommy's eyes bulge out of his sockets, angry at his brother's self-deprecating words. Joel bends his waist forward, puts his elbows on the island in front of him and lets his head sink in again.

“Ok.” Tommy breathes deeply to ground himself, his hands in a position of a prayer in front of his mouth, “Ok, we could both use a drink.” he realizes, as he moves to open the cupboard to grab two tumblers and the whiskey from the shelf with the drinks. “..or five.”

The two brothers drink their first round in silence, both calming their nerves down. Tommy refills their glasses without asking; he knows this is going to be a long night.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you.” Tommy begins, pushing Joel’s drink back towards him. Joel wringles his brows in confusion, “What are you talking about? You’re always there for me.”

“No, I haven’t, not really.” Tommy admits, “I let Maria take over when all this happened and I’m sorry.”

“There was nothing you could do, Tommy, don’t sweat it.”

“Let me say this, please.” Tommy raises his hand, his palm facing his brother. “I was just- fuck, we all knew how much you loved her, how much you loved each other, so when it all went down, I just didn’t know how to deal with it. What to say to you, how to comfort you. I didn't know how to deal with you.”

“You blamed me.” Joel says matter-of-factly.

“No-”, Tommy weakly refuses but Joel shakes his head dismissively, interrupting him. “It’s ok, Tommy, you should.”

Tommy looks embarrassed, his cheeks slightly pinkish, not only from the whiskey. “It’s just that I- I couldn’t reconcile the image of the man you were with her, with.. you know..”, he stutters.

“..the image of a cheater. Say it.” Joel adds.

Tommy shakes his head, like he still can't believe what's happened. “Besides, while she was staying with us those first few weeks I saw how devastated she was, man- she was a shell of a woman, so I was confused, I didn’t know how-”

“Tommy. Tommy, it’s fine.” Joel feels his skin crawl visualizing you like that in his head, cutting his brother off once again; he deserves every ounce of mistrust and he knows it.

“No, it’s not.” Tommy insists. “Yes, you fucked up. Brother, you really did. You did a number on her-”, Joel’s body tenses instantly at his brother’s words, his jaw clenching as his eyes darken, moving down to his hands, his grip on the tumbler tightening, his knuckles turning white and Tommy stops abruptly, “shit, sorry, I didn’t mean-”, his face twitches with regret.

“It’s the truth. That’s exactly what I did.” Joel’s gaze seems detached as if he's somewhere else right now.

“What I meant to say, is that I should have been there for you in spite of what has happened. I can see you're suffering, it's taking its toll on you, it has been for some time now; tell me what I can do. How can I help you?” Tommy seems almost desperate, like he’s the one in need of redemption.

Your text flashes through his mind, can you turn back time?, making him smile bitterly.

“Can you turn back time?” Joel's repeating your question and as the words leave his mouth he can feel your presence next to him. That's the most he felt of you for the last three years. He's almost blissful.

“You know I can't.” Tommy sighs. Joel laughs earnestly, the irony of the moment too good not to appreciate.

“Joel, brother, please, just talk to me. Help me understand. You act like you’re the one who’s been cheated on. So, what happened? Why did you do it?” Tommy is pleading with him to give him anything.

Silence fills the room for much longer than either of them would like. Joel feels torn between telling his brother everything or keeping his mouth shut. He wants to tell him, he hasn’t told a soul, but he’s not sure he can get the words out. He’s not sure he can bear to hear the words coming out of his mouth. He’s not sure he can substantiate it, make it real. Because that’s how it feels. He talks about it and it becomes real.

But maybe this is the right thing to do. That’s what needs to be done. He needs to talk about it. He needs to tell the truth and admit the pain he’s caused. Make it real for you, too. Perhaps it is time for him to give you what is rightfully yours. Acknowledgment.

Joel’s made up his mind. He’s gonna talk to Tommy. He lifts his glass to down his drink for some liquid courage, freezing his hand in mid-air as the next words fall from his brother’s mouth. “First of all, who was it?”

“What?” Joel's eyes search Tommy’s through his glass for an explanation.

“Who did you do?”, Tommy clarifies.

Joel feels like he’s been struck by lightning. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Who did you fuck, Joel?”, Tommy begins to feel confused, are they not on the same page here?

“You don’t know?”, Joel can barely speak now, his voice low in shock.

“No one does, not even Maria; she never told anyone.”

You told nobody? Not even your best friend? Why on earth would you do that? Did you feel ashamed? Was it just too much to talk about?

But his brain takes pity on him, helping him for once to understand. He’s connecting the dots while your voice fills the corners of his mind through his memories. His head is swarming with images of you standing in that walk-in closet, remembering what you said the last time he saw you. You’re the one I married, not her. I expected better from you, Joel, not her.

You were right.

It didn’t matter who it was. That is why. He was the one making the choice. He was the one breaking his promises, breaking your trust, breaking your heart; breaking you. He was the one who should have known better. He was the one who should have been honest. Easy in theory, hard in practice.

He feels a fresh wave of pain scattering through his body. He welcomes it. Damn, he’s craving it. He’s glad you chose to withhold the identity of the woman. Not because somehow it’s making it easier for him to defend himself, on the contrary.

There’s no one else to blame. Nobody. Just him. All of the anger, the resentment, the disappointment, all of them on him. He embraces them all. Everything. He will take it all, swallow it down and let it rot inside of him.

Joel tells Tommy everything. Everything, but her name.

previous | next

Taglist: @southernbe, @orcasoul, @auteurdelabre

[xkaidaxxxx]

Fortunate Ones

BAKUGOU X READER

Mentions: Corrupt Government, Quirkless, Injections, Pregnancy, Dad Bakugou, Fluff!

reblogs are appreciated! <3

There was a point in time where life was happy for everyone. Then one day things changed.

Those with Quirks lived a better life. Good homes, good environment, upperhand on job opportunities. Quirkless born have it rough. A child should have their quirk by the age of 5 and if not the government will give the child another year just in case they’re late bloomers. If no quirk is developed by the age of 6 they’re separated from their parents and put into the quirkless side of town, Although they are allowed to travel anywhere.They get paired with a good family. They’re not allowed to have any contact with their old family.

You grew up with Bakugou and Izuku. Yeah Bakugou was an asshole but you still followed behind him just as everyone else did. You and Deku had each other. Yes you were parted from your birth parents but the ones you were given too were great. They love you like their own. Deku went through the same thing which is why you guys are understanding each other. You thought you’d be with Izuku forever as besties and have a possibility to end up with Bakugou.

Izuku never told either of you about training with All Might. He couldn’t. He didn’t even tell you about getting into U.A. You thought you'd be going to school. You knew Bakugou got in and it hurt you like hell. Parting ways with someone you fell in love with. “ Since when do you have a quirk!?” You yelled at Izuku. “You’re a piece of shit for not telling her sooner.” Bakugou said. “ It’s not what you think,”Izuku said. He wanted to stay with his best friend. He wished the three of you could attend the best hero school there is. He cared more about being a hero. “ I can’t believe it. How..just have fun with your quirk Izuku. Bakugou have fun as well. I guess this is it…” you say tears running down your face. “Who knows…maybe we can meet up one day or whatever.” He said handing you a piece of paper with his number on it. You smiled. “Y-Yeah..thanks. I’ll miss you guys more than anything.” you said. Bakugou hated it when he was forced into a group hug. He hates physical contact but tolerated it for you. He’s always had a soft side, though he's a total asshole. 

Everyone went their separate ways. You didn’t stay in contact with Izuku. He’s “too busy.” when in reality he didn't make time. He cared more about being a hero. Bakugou is very serious about it too but he tried and did make time even if it was talking on the phone or meeting up in the city going to places where Quirkless people were allowed in. Sometimes he’d even facetime with you at night even after a long and tiring day. Yes he’d knock out mid way with you but he made the time and it made you happy. 

As time went on Bakugou developed feelings towards you and finally confessed after becoming a hero and you two Immediately started dating. During the ending of highschool there was a bill being set. Quirkless people were not allowed to house with a quirk user unless married. Then 2 years later the bill passed. 

“We could always lie. We don’t have to worry about it. Let me handle it.” Bakugou said, holding you close. You were both 20 and ready to move out. Bakugou was making a great amount of money from being a hero even though he's young. You were in your 3rd year in college studying for business management and English language. You had a small business. It’s going very well. You always have orders coming in. “We can’t lie about it,Kats. If they find out then what?” you asked. “We’ll make it happen eventually.” he replied, pecking your cheek. You nodded slightly. It was your plan with him. Him becoming a hero, you finishing school and starting your small business then soon enough live together. You continued your homework. Thank god you’re the smartest in all your class and gained trust from your teachers. They’d give great recommendations for when you need a job. 

“Hey mom. I brought her to meet you. You’ll love her.” Katsuki said. He brought you into the living room. “Really!? All this time?” Mitsuki said, giving you a big hug. You returned it. She’s known you since a kid; she just never thought you’d end up dating her son. “You should’ve told me since you started dating her. Why did you keep it a secret for so long?” She asked, letting me go. “I told him I wasn’t ready not until I was almost done with university.” You answered. “We were planning to move in together but…the new bill was placed..” he said gripping your hand lightly. Mitsuki knows how much he loves you because when you and Bakugou started she noticed how much he started changing and in a great way. “You two are young. Still in the beginning of the new chapter. Us parents will be here to support you both.” Mitsuki said. 

When you and Katsuki turned 21 he proposed to you. While you were at work he decorated the dining room with candles and roses.(he lived on his own.) He made your favorite meal. The lights were dimmed. “Hey Kats. I'm here. What did you need help with?” you asked as you took off your heels. “Yeah I'm in the dining room,” he replied. You went over and blushed as you saw the lovely decorated table. You both enjoyed the food. You talked and laughed. “You’re such a romantic, it's cute. Thank you for this.” You said smiling. “I have one more surprise.” He walked over to you.” he replied and made you stand up. “ Where are you taking me?” you asked. “No No, just stand there okay. Close your eyes, loser.” he replied. You obeyed him. Bakugou took out the ring and got down on one knee. “Open.” he ordered. When you saw him your heart was racing. “Y/n I'm in love with you and you know that. You give me everything you have to offer. You always express your love to me. Make me the happiest man in the world and marry me.” He asked. You nodded as you started crying with him. He slipped the ring on your finger. When the wedding happened a year later you both were so happy, loved and fortunate, very very fortunate. 

You must be wondering why? Well thank god you and Bakugou decided to try for a baby during the honeymoon and it happened. You were blessed twins, baby boys. During the time you were 7 months the government released the news about planning on injecting half of the quirkless females. An injection to stop them from reproducing. You had your babies and after you got approval from the doctor to have another child. You and Bakugou got to work. It was hard to take care of the twins while pregnant but you and Bakugou want a little tribe. 

“ Morning my wonderful boys.” Bakugou said to the twins who were awake and ready for their bottles. He carried both of them and got comfortable on the couch he fed both of them. Struggled but fed them. You were still asleep. He makes sure you get proper rest which is why he took time off work. To help you around the house another set of twins are on the way. You woke up around 9:30 am“Kats?Kousuke?Kensuke?” You called. “In the bathroom babe!” Bakugou said. He was giving the twins their baths. Kensuke was the calm one and Kousuke…sweet lord he’s the wild one. You walked in and saw Bakugou’s shirt all wet. The boys cooed and kicked as Bakugou made silly faces. Kousuke splashed water as Bakugou lifted him to scrub his back. “Let me help kats.” you said with a smile. It took about a good 30 minutes to bath them and have them all set . 

You had a small and cute gender reveal only you,bakugou, his parents, yours and your 2 siblings. It was inside the second nursery. Your sister knows the genders so she planned it. “You guys ready?” Mitsuki recorded. You and Bakugou took a deep breath and then let go as you both opened the closet. Half of it was filled with boy clothes and the other with girl clothes. You shared a kiss with Bakugou. Everyone clapped. “ I love you and our babies.” Bakugou said as he rubbed your bump. “ We love you too, loser.” you replied. Months later you pushed your beautiful babies out. 

You guys want a K family and you also wanted to have one more pregnancy. Hopefully you’re not one of the chosen quirkless females for the injection and lucky for guys you werent. By the time you and Bakugou were 26 you had 6 kids. 

Kids' names. K family. Eldest to youngest.

Kousuke Bakugou(m)

Kensuke Bakugou (m) 

Kyousuke Bakugou (m)

Kimiko Bakugou (f)

Kaoru Bakugou (f) 

Kaisei Bakugou (m)

You changed the kids out of their pjs and into cute clothes. Your mother made a family gathering. Bakugou hugged you from behind then nibbled on your ear whispering, “We should have one more, don't you think my sexy girl.” Your eyes widened when you felt his bulge. “ Go fix your problem in our room.” you said. “ Come on one more?” he begged, leaving a hickey on your neck. You saw the kids fall asleep as you packed up their diaper bags. “ Katsuki Bakugou no.” you replied. His hands roamed your body. When he got to your breasts you moaned as he pinched your nipples,you felt your milk leak a bit. “ one more.” he whispered in your ear and then licked your neck. “Fuck it.” you gave in. He was about to carry you away until baby Kaisei started crying. Bakugou rolled his eyes. “Mommys boy for sure,” he said. You smacked him then carried Kaisei, rocking him in your arms. Bakugou looked at him playing with his little hand. Kaisei wrapped his hand around Bakugou’s finger and gripped it. When the kids do that to him he always ends up crying. You never knew why but he always smiles and pecks their hands in the process. 

The best part of it all is that your children grew up with quirks. When they got their quirks you and Bakugou were blessed. Blessed to be able to stay with your family. 

You both were blessed by God to keep your loving family.

[cats-artbag]

SwapOut/Webcomic/Twitch PSA!

Hi everyone 👋🏻 Zk here >< or Cats, for older followers

So I've been getting back into doing SwapOut again, but I would like to appeal to everyone who reads and loves the comic. Much love to all of you who's still sticking around 🙏🏻💙 But something has also always been bothering me throughout this journey.

As many of us know, we artists do these comics for free (especially fan comics), starting them out of love and taking a LOT of time and energy out of our lives to continue making them.

And it's amazing how many of you come from translations or comic dubs on Youtube, which are also very well-done and take a lot of effort to make, much love to them too. There is a difference, however.

Monetization.

And I'm not asking for pity! I'm appealing for understanding.

Because some comic dubbers on Youtube are able to earn ad revenue from the videos they upload. From the beginning, we artists have given them the permission to dub our works. But we don't receive anything from it, nor do we usually charge them for using our art (against our better judgement).

We let them use our comic pages in their monetized videos for free. And occasionally these videos receive thousands and millions of views, which I imagine gives a decent amount of ad revenue, while the artists themselves don't usually earn anything from their own artwork, nor do we ever want to put it behind a paywall of any kind. (we like reading free comics too so don't worry x|)

... But doing full-colored comic pages for free eventually gets hard to sustain without any income from it, even more so when we need to give our time and energy to other jobs to earn money for a living instead. We legitimately keep going on our comics purely out of love. Truly, we would LOVE to do our own art for a living. There's things like Patreon but it's only feasible if we're also able to produce bonus content or show BTS, and only people willing to spend money for them can help us, and not readers who aren't able to.

And we understand that not everyone can afford to support us monetarily. And that's okay!

But if you love these comics and want to really help us to keep going, there ARE ways you can easily support us for free!

For example, affiliates on Twitch (like myself) are able to earn ad revenue very early on (they must have at least 50 followers, quite a requirement, but still easier to obtain than Youtube's 1000 subscribers).

(my Youtube, btw. not much rn but drop a subscribe?)

But simply put, if the vast majority of readers from the yt numbers visit and stay for ads on the artists' Twitch streams (remember to have adblocker disabled for the site, if any), they'll be making an actual, physical contribution to the artist themselves, at no cost whatsoever. We earn up to 55% from any ads that run on our stream, so the more viewers, the better!

(this is my twitch on average 8 viewers, with a 3 hour stream. again, the more the better!)

(ofc you can also buy subs to watch ad-free and supports me directly, but i'm typing all this to share the free ways people can support their fave creators ✨)

And even if that doesn't work out, I'd be happy enough to see most of you there 🙏🏻💙 I've been treating my streams as work, so I'm striving not to break the streak.

So drop a follow on my Twitch, and catch the streams when you can! They're great if you need company or background noise, and also great for co-working~

Currently streaming WEEKLY, Mondays, Wednesdays (SwapOut) and Saturdays, 10.30AM EST

(art by @cupcakepaints)

>> twitch.tv/zkcats <<

Anyway thanks for listening to my Ted talk, please share this around for others as well >< 🙏🏻 Artists, make this a reblog chain or something! Promo your stuff!

And apologies for the essay, I wasn't expecting to type this much sdghsgh this itself is not an ad for Twitch or whatev, I'm just a little frustrated with needing to juggle all this.

I was also considering hosting SwapOut somewhere that could get ad revenue, but I wasn't sure where until I realized I can probably earn that from my Tapas now (i think?? sdfhgh up to 70% ad revenue there but i haven't seen any yet) So maybe I'll post there a day earlier than here or something? We'll see. Go subscribe there! Check it out! Reread it! Help ME help YOU!

... Much appreciated ><

[scoonsalicious]

Unwanted: Chapter 15, Undermined - Pt. 2

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Fem!Reader

Summary: When your FWB relationship with your best friend Bucky Barnes turns into something more, you couldn’t be happier. That is, however, until a new Avenger sets her sights on your super soldier and he inadvertently breaks your heart. You take on a mission you might not be prepared for to put some distance between the two of you and open yourself up to past traumas. Too bad the only one who can help you heal is the one person you can no longer trust.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, mentions of SA, discussions of sexual situations.

Word Count: 1k

Previously On...: You went through Bucky's text history with Jade. It was... illuminating, but also soul-crushing. You're not sure how you're going to get past this.

A/N: Thank you all so much for the engagement you've been giving the story! It means so much to me to see everyone so invested! I love you all! Some of ya'lls theories are WILD, and I love them! Keep 'em coming! And if you've sent me a speculation or comment and I haven't replied, it only means that I can't respond without giving away too much information about what's to come, so I feel it's best for me to keep my trap shut; not that I don't appreciate and love you!

Banner By: The absolutely amazing @mrsbuckybarnes1917!

Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!

Taglist: (Sadly, tag list is closed; Tumblr will not let me add anyone new. If you want to be notified when I update, please Follow me for Notifications!) @jmeelee @cazellen @mrsbuckybarnes1917 @blackhawkfanatic @buckybarnessimpp @hayjat @capswife @itsteambarnes @marygoddessofmischief @sebastians-love @learisa @lethallyprotected @rabbitrabbit12321 @buckybarnesandmarvel @fanfictiongirl77 @calwitch @fantasyfootballchampion @selella @jackiehollanderr @wintercrows @sashaisready @missvelvetsstuff @angelbabyyy99 @keylimebeag @maybefoxysouls @vicmc624 @j23r23 @wintercrows @crist1216 @cjand10 @pattiemac1 @les-sel @dottirose @winterslove1917 @harperkenobi @ivet4 @casey1-2007 @mrsevans90 @steeph-aniie @bean-bean2000 @beanbagbitch @peachiestevie @wintrsoldrluvr @shadowzena43

Tumblr will not let me directly tag the following: @marcswife21 @erelierraceala @jupiter-107 @doublejeon @hiqhkey @unaxv @brookeleclerc

The next several weeks passed by quietly. Or, rather, as quietly as living in a towerful of superheroes could be expected to be. You and Bucky danced around each other in a strange sort of limbo since you had officially broken up–almost two months ago, now– no longer lovers, yet not quite just friends. It was difficult. It was painful. He would say something, or give you that look, and you’d be so tempted to melt into his arms. Hell, or rip off his fucking clothes. But you’d remember everything that had happened, the way your life had been completely unended in the span of an evening, and the urges would vanish like smoke in the wind, and the walls would return around your heart.

You’d wanted to ask Steve about what Bucky had said– about getting erections when he sparred, but he was still ignoring you, not wanting to engage with you in any form of conversation that didn’t directly concern Avenger work. It was beyond frustrating, the length his cold shoulder had gone on for, but you couldn’t force him to engage with you.

There was, however, one person you could ask, though you were fairly confident Bucky would be furious at you for doing so. Oh well, you thought. If he didn’t want you asking questions about it, he should have never given you reason to question the things he told you in the first place.

“Hey, Sammy,” you said, cornering your friend in the training room after he finished a run on the treadmill. 

“‘Sup, Baby Girl?” Sam wiped his brow with the hem of his shirt. “Come to watch Ole Sammy get all sweaty?”

“Ew, gross,” you shoved him playfully. “Not even a little bit. I have a question for you, though.” You handed him his water bottle, and he took it from you gratefully, chugging down a few swigs before looking back to you.

“Shoot,” he said. “I got all the answers.”

You chewed thoughtfully on your bottom lip, wondering how exactly you were going to word your inquiry. “You ever spar with Bucky?”

Sam slowly lowered his water bottle and eyed you suspiciously. “Why?” he asked you slowly.

“It’s a simple question, Sam,” you responded as you crossed your arms over your chest. “Have you sparred with him, or not?”

Sam narrowed his eyes, as though trying to determine whether or not you were luring him into some kind of trap. “I have,” he drawed out.

You raised a brow. “Anything… weird ever happen to Bucky when he really lets himself get invested in a fight?” you asked. “Anything… unusual?”

“So, he finally told you about that, huh?” Sam asked, mirroring your stance. 

“I’m gonna need you to be more specific, Sam.” You put all of your weight onto one foot. 

“Well, either you know, or you don’t,” Sam argued. “It’s not my secret to tell you.”

You were growing frustrated at his reticence to give you the information you were looking for. “Come on, Sam. Let’s just say Bucky told me about something that occasionally happens to him when he fights, but I don’t know if I can believe him or not. I’d ask Steve, but he’s not speaking to me at the moment, so you’re my only way of confirming if what he told me is true or not. I need you to be straight with me. Please.”

Sam studied you, his expression unreadable. “What the hell happened between the two of you, Pocket?”

“Nothing I want to talk about right now, Sam,” you told him, your impatience beginning to show. “Are you going to tell me what I need to know, or not?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Sam said, finally giving in. “Alright. So, sometimes, when Tin Man really gets into the heat of it, he gets…” Sam coughed, clearly uncomfortable with the line of conversation, “excited.”

“Excited.” You rolled the word around in your mouth. “More specific, Sam.”

Sam rubbed his eyes. “Jesus Christ, Baby Girl. You gonna make me spell it out?” You nodded, eager for him to get on with it.

Sam’s eyes rolled heavenward, as though he were praying for the Lord to give him the strength to deal with you. “Sometimes he gets a fucking boner when he fights, alright? You happy now?”

You should be. You really should be. It meant there was one thing, at least, he’d been honest with you about. But it wasn’t nearly enough.

“Did he tell you why?” you asked, instead.

“You’re just asking me to break all kinds of confidences today, ain’t ya, Baby Girl?” You gave him a pointed look.

“Fine, fine,” Sam finally relented. “It was awkward as hell, the first time I noticed it happen, but Barnes said it was a left over from the shit Hydra did to him when they were programming him to be the Winter Soldier. They wanted to make him… excited by the fight, aroused by it.” Sam shook his head, disgusted by what his friend had endured. “So, they did all kindsa shit to merge the two– sex and violence, until his body couldn’t tell the difference between ‘em.”

You blinked once, twice, three times at Sam’s words. You supposed you should feel grateful– here was confirmation Bucky’d spoken the truth to you, and you were fairly sure that Sam wouldn’t have lied to your face to save Bucky’s ass. And yet… and yet. Sam, and Steve, as well, had been privy to this part of Bucky’s past that he’d felt the need to keep from you. Even that thought brought you more conflict: if it was something Bucky had shared with Sam and Steve, it made the fact he’d shared it with Jade less significant. But, the angry voice in the back of your head insisted, he’d still chosen not to share it with you. And that still stung. Your thoughts just spun in circles.

“Got anymore horrifically awkward questions for me?” Sam asked, and you realized you’d been silent a bit too long.

“No,” you said, shaking your head as though to clear your thoughts. “Uh, that was it. Thanks, Sam. I appreciate it.” You turned to leave the training room.

“I’d say ‘any time, Baby Girl,’” Sam called after you, “but that was awkward as hell and I sure as shit never want to talk about Bucky’s erections with anyone ever again!”

<- Previous Part / Next Part ->

[winterrrnight]

HI BAE!!!!!!! CONGRATS ON 600!!! 🙌🏼💓💓

go on without me - 16 + 21 with rafe🤭🤭🤭🤭

ahh thank you so much sweet abi!! I'm so sorry it took me so long, I just wasn't feeling satisfied with what I was writing :( I hope you like reading this! but please feel free to not read this if you aren't comfortable w the warnings given :)

protective

PAIRING: toxic!dark!rafe cameron x gn! musician!reader

SUMMARY: rafe doesn’t like another man touching you, not even as much as talking to you or looking at you.

WARNINGS: dark content! minimal swearing, established relationship, slight use of nicknames like babe, jealousy, over protective & possessive rafe, canon!rafe, toxic!rafe, threats to kill, allusions to anxiety and being scared, and kinda shitty writing (??) (please please let me know if something should be added!!!!)

EDITH SPEAKS: this is very, very new for me. this is my third attempt at this fic, the first two just didn’t turn out how I wanted, and the best approach just felt like dark!rafe. this is me basically exploring my writing and trying out new things and testing myself, so if it’s not as good as the rest of stuff you may have read, I’m really sorry, I’m a beginner 😭😭

please please heed the warnings, and it may not be as dark as some other stuff on here, it felt pretty dark while writing, and if at any moment you feel this isn’t for you please feel free to click off.

moreover, if I am being honest here, you might have read a lot of rafe fics based on this idea/prompt. so please don't think I copied someone off for this, this is completely my own creation.

and if you liked this, please please share your feedback with me, and reblog it to support my content <3

PROMPTS REQUESTED: “Actually, we’re leaving. We have something to get to.” “No we don’t – oh, okay fine I’ll call you guys later.” & “You can’t just lose your temper like this each time you get a little upset!”

600 followers celebration (now closed!) || navigation

Everyone around you cheers out loud, glasses of champagne raised in the air as huge grins form on everyone’s faces. Your new single – after a break of over three years came out today, and you have already received an overwhelming amount of support. You’re in your studio, celebrating with your team and your amazing boyfriend.

“Congratulations babe,” Rafe smiles as he hugs you tight, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. You grin at him, hugging him back even tighter as you mumble a ‘thank you’.

You all celebrate for some more time, drinking fancy champagne, eating food, and taking pictures to savor the moment.

You, Rafe, and Jim, your producer, are just talking at the side when you hear your name being called. You turn to see it’s Saylor, who is one of the interns at the record label you are signed with. Your single was the first project he worked on.

“Yeah?” You ask, smiling as you approach him.

“Congratulations on the release,” he smiles, and gives you a small hug. You gladly hug him back, a grin on your face.

“Thank you Saylor,” you smile. “You were absolutely great for your first project,” you say. “I was actually asking Jim if you’d like to continue working for the upcoming singles too,”

Saylor’s lips are pulled in a huge grin as his eyes light up. “You’re serious right now?”

You chuckle as you nod your head. “Yes, of course! I would love for you to be able to gain as much experience as you can,”

Saylor absolutely can’t contain his excitement as he pulls you in for another hug. You are caught off guard but gladly hug back, chuckling a little as you do so.

“Thank you so much,” he smiles. “Seriously, it means a lot to me,” he says, a certain spark in his eyes.

“Of course, a talent like yours shouldn’t go to waste,” you say.

His smile doesn’t falter as he speaks again. “Can I get a picture with you, if that’s not an issue?”

“Oh of course not!” You say, turning to look at Rafe. “Rafe?” You call out.

He breaks from the conversation he was having with Jim and walks up to you. “Yeah babe?” Saylor passes him his phone and asks him to take a picture of you two.

Saylor stands next to you as his arm wraps around your waist, maybe a little too tighter than it should be but you don’t really say anything. However, it doesn’t go unnoticed by Rafe, and he takes a sharp inhale when he sees Saylor’s side pressing more against you, as your arm rests around his shoulder.

Rafe tends to be… possessive, and you’ve always known that. Even when you both weren’t together, he wasn’t the biggest fan of how others would usually hit on you at parties, and would feel enraged when they wouldn’t let you go after you would politely ask to leave you alone.

But that possessiveness only increased when you both got together, when you officially became his girl. There’s nothing you can do about it, because that’s how Rafe is.

You can see the expression on Rafe’s face; the subtle ticking of his jaw, the acute twitching of his eye – you’ve known him long enough to identify his facial expressions just the second they appear. You are quick to remove your arm from Saylor’s shoulder, your arm now resting on your side, but Saylor doesn’t seem to catch on that; instead his grip on your waist tightens a bit, because he most probably wants you to wrap your arm around his shoulders again.

Nevertheless, Rafe takes the picture, and hands Saylor’s phone back. Saylor takes a few seconds before he lets go of you, which only happened because you gently removed yourself from his grip. You quickly appear at Rafe’s side and intertwine your hands, squeezing his hand tightly.

“Thank you for the picture,” Saylor smiles as he looks at the phone screen. All you say is ‘welcome’ with a small smile, and Rafe pulls you to a different part of the studio.

As the small party carries on, Saylor makes subtle moves – or moves which he thinks are subtle, but aren’t missed by Rafe at all. It’s Rafe’s last straw when Saylor gently grips your waist to move past you, saying a ‘sorry’ as he walks by. At that very moment, you decide it’s best if you talk to Saylor about it yourself, tell him that you know what he’s doing, and you clearly have a boyfriend. But before you can do that, Rafe’s arm wraps quickly around your waist, and his grip is tight.

Jim says something about going to a nice nearby restaurant for dinner, but Rafe cuts him off. “Actually, we’re leaving. We have something to get to.” He says firmly. You look at him with a slightly confused expression, thinking if you both do have any other appointments today or not, but your mind is blank.

“No we don’t –,” you say, but Rafe snaps his head at you, his jaw muscles tense, and your eyes slightly widen at the sight as you catch up in the fraction of a second. “Oh, okay fine I’ll call you guys later.”

Rafe leads you out of the studio, and you barely save your half full glass of champagne from falling off the table you’re trying to keep it at as he ushers you out. He opens the door of his truck for you and as you sit down, he slams it a little too harshly than usual. He walks around the truck and sits down next to you, his grip tight on the steering wheel as he starts to drive.

You take a deep breath as you lean back in the chair. This is not the first time this is happening, and you know it’s certainly not the last. You aren’t scared because you already know how this entire situation plays out. He will raise his voice at you, say stuff like how you’re his and only his, how he absolutely hates other guys looking at you a certain way because he just can’t bear the sight, and how he gives you the best treatment you can get.

You’re just silently listening to the soft music from the radio as you look out the window. You steal a glance at Rafe and see his jaw is still tightened, his grip tight on the wheel.

“Relax your jaw Rafe,” you say plainly, turning to look back out the window. You hear him take a sharp breath.

“I did not like how he was looking at you and holding you,” he utters.

You just roll your eyes at him, as if you knew that’s exactly what he was going to say. “It was just a picture Rafe, you don’t have to be so protective about that,” you say.

Rafe snaps his head towards you, but quickly turns back to look at the road. “Just a picture?” He echoes. “So you’re telling me you loved the way he was holding your waist hm?”

“Oh god when did I say that!” You retort. “And besides, did you not see? I literally removed my hand off his shoulders the instant you saw it, and moved away from him the moment you took the picture. There’s no need for you to get so worked up!”

You can see Rafe’s chest heaving as he takes rapid breaths, his jaw ticking as you can literally see a thunderstorm brewing up in him.

“You can’t just lose your temper like this each time you get a little upset!” You say exasperatedly. “You shouldn’t have been upset in the first place because there’s literally nothing to be upset about!”

Just the second those words leave your mouth, he bellows your name causing you to shut up right that moment. “Shut up!” He yells, smacking his palm against the steering wheel once. You feel the truck speed up, his foot pressing harder against the accelerator. You glance at the speedometer and see the needle pointing to larger numbers more and more with each passing second.

“Rafe-” you mumble out but you are cut off the very next instant.

“You just refuse to see it huh?” He hissed. “You refuse to see how I am the best for you. How I can, how I do treat you better than anyone else,” he goes on, and he uses his free hand to gesture around in the air.

“Get this in your head okay?” He speaks, his voice now eerily low as he gestures to his head, tapping his fingertips at his temple. “I never, ever want you as much as looking at someone else, you got that?”

You can feel the truck speeding up more. Your hands are clutching the sides of your seat, as your nails dig into the leather. Your lips are parted as you let out shaky breaths, your eyes wide and shiny with the layer of tears that have formed over them.

You thought you had seen the worst. Which was him arguing with you and telling you he’s the best for you. But right now, when his foot only seems to be pressing more and more against the gas pedal, your back pushed back against the seat due to the fast speed of the truck, you realize there’s a hidden side to Rafe you’ve never seen before.

“Rafe I-”

“Say it!” He yells, cutting you off swiftly. “Say it, that you won’t even look at anyone else!”

“Rafe please-” you mumble out, squeezing your eyes shut as hot tears flow down your face, leaving a sticky trail as they go down.

“Say it before I crash this truck in a fucking tree!”

His breathing is heavy, his eyes are wide, and you can’t recognise him anymore. His eyes are an icy blue instead of the usual dark blue you get lost in so easily, and that’s the moment you realize Rafe will never ever let you exercise any control over him. Ever.

“I-” you hiccup, “I won’t look at anyone else, okay?” You gasp, gulping down the lump in your throat as the tears keep on streaming down.

When you don’t feel Rafe slow down the truck, the seatbelt starting to dig into your neck harshly and your grip on the seat gets harder, your breathing gets more erratic as you try to gather more air to speak up again.

“Rafe, baby, please please slow down I…” you whisper, looking at him desperately.

You expect him to lash out, but he doesn’t, and the truck starts to slow down, coming at a normal pace. You move a shaky hand to your face, running your fingers across your skin to wipe off your tears, but your breath keeps on coming out in short gasps, and you feel yourself tremble a little; your heart loud in your chest.

The truck slows down more and more, and you see Rafe has parked it at the side of the road. The truck comes to a full stop, and you turn to look at Rafe through your still slightly blurry vision, your eyes now red, and panic being the only feeling clouding your mind.

Rafe rests his forehead against the steering wheel, taking in a deep breath. His grip on the wheel loosens a bit, the knuckles not so white anymore as their color flushes back. He lifts his head from the wheel and turns to look back at you, his eyes now not so icy, but still not the comforting warm blue you’ve always loved and adored.

A smile tugs on his lips, and it’s not the kind which always warms you up the moment you look at it, but it’s… sinister. It’s a smile you’ve never seen before. It’s the kind of smile that shows that he is enjoying seeing you this way. Seeing you so weak under his control.

He moves his hands to your face, brushing any loose strands off your slightly sticky face and gently running his fingers across your cheeks.

“Now baby,” he says softly, but the softness doesn’t comfort you – no. It scares you even more. “You made that a little too hard didn’t you, hm? Next time when I ask you to do something, just do it, okay? Don’t have time to wait, or- or to see how you react m’kay? Just… agree to what I say. It’s not as hard as you may think,”

He leans forward and presses a kiss to your forehead, but at that moment, all you want to do is to scrunch up into a ball and be far, far away from him and his cold, unknown touch.

Your breathing fastens up, but all you can do is stare at him with wide eyes, wondering where did that sweet, loving boyfriend of yours go and got replaced by this?

When he sees you aren’t arguing back, his menacing grin only widens, and he takes his hands off you, turning to start up the truck again and continue to drive – as if absolutely nothing happened.

A hand rests on your thigh, softly rubbing the skin through the material of your pants, but you’re too afraid to even slightly move under the touch. It’s cold, it sends shivers down your spine, and you don’t know who’s hand it is.

If only someone could stop and tell you that you had lost your ‘loving’ boyfriend forever.

↶ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊˎ-

TAGLIST: @runningfrom2am @saccharinesammie @maybankslover @totalswag @madelynie @chenslucy @ietss @elle-mp3 @viawritesstuff @wallsdreams @lunalitva @sadfury @newsies-pape-girl @jamesbuckybarneswify @xxxlaura @thatsthewaythechrissycrumbles @callsignwidow @starkowswife @drewstarkeyswifehoe @jjchaer @f4ll-for-you @wearemadeofstardust0 @drewsmusee @rafegirly @addriaenne @leighbronk @rafesdrew @bejeweledreverie @raf3sgff @aerangi @drewstarkey1bae @moneymaybank @spideysimpossiblegirl @the-tortured-poets-depxrtment

[dollyji]

hello everyone.

i know this probably isn’t the type of post you all would like to see from me right now, or maybe even at all. but i think it’s been a long time coming and i haven’t had the courage until now. after two and a half years, i have made the difficult decision to close dollyji. at least for the time being. it’s been a wild ride, but i think it’s time for me to close this chapter of my life.

i want to thank each and every one of you, all of almost 3,000 of you, for all of the love and support you’ve given me over the years. from following me here from rensxn when i got flagged and was worried about losing my account, to waiting two years for a fic that i’ve been promising. and i want to apologize for that as well. i truly appreciate all of the support and patience i’ve been shown and i feel truly sorry for leaving you all hanging for such a long time. you’ve all meant the world to me.

the decision to close dollyji was not made lightly or impulsively. in fact, i didn’t want to make the decision at all. but as of late (read: the past two years that i’ve been missing), i found that my interest in nct has dwindled and i don’t keep up with them as much as i did before. i wish things were different, and i wish i could blame it solely on writers block, but i know that’s not completely the truth. that’s not to say that i don’t still like nct or that i’m not a fan anymore — i still love them deeply, i still listen to their music and i’ll never let jisung go. my interests have just changed and they unfortunately aren’t a priority anymore. and that’s okay.

i will always hold dollyji close to my heart. i’ve made many pleasant memories and connections here, including one of my best friends to this day. i won’t be deactivating the blog, so don’t worry about losing anything. i’ll be reblogging some of my best asks and writing, plus some extras from rensxn. my navigation will be linked right here.

thank you all for being part of this journey. hopefully one day i will return. i love you all.

dollyji.

update: due to an anon’s request i have made a personal blog for those of you who may want to continue following or talking to me even if i don’t write! @oneirosomnia

[katareyoudrilling]

The Sweepstakes: Javi Gutierrez (Porn Star AU)

Series: The Sweepstakes

Pairing: Porn star Javi Gutierrez x Female Reader

Summary: It seemed like a great idea at the time, but now you’re not sure you’re brave enough to claim your sweepstakes prize.

Word count: ~3.2k

Rating: Explicit (18+ only. NO MINORS)

Content Warnings: reader is a full-figured gal, vague body descriptions, body insecurity, some ass smacks, ass worship, oral (m and f receiving), unprotected PiV (there is paperwork)

A/N: Huge thank you to @burntheedges for all her help with this!  Javi is a new character for me as is some of the subject matter I’m writing about.  I hope I’ve done both justice!  Spanish translations are at the end, but everything should be able to be understood in line with context.  I hope you enjoy!

Reblogs and comments are always appreciated!

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Taglist – link in bio or ask me to add you!

“There’s a kitchen to the left and a bathroom here,” Erin opens a door to show you a spacious full bath.  “The production room is at the end of this hall, which is where I will be if you need anything.”

You nod along and follow her down the hall.

“And of course, here is the room where you’ll be doing your scene!” She opens the double doors with a flourish.

It’s so… bright in there.  Is it always that bright?

You look around the large bedroom.  A bedroom you are very familiar with, as it is where your favorite porn production company films many of their videos.

You wrap your arms around your torso, feeling exposed even though you’re still fully clothed.

Maybe this was a bad idea.

You entered a sweepstakes you never expected to win.  You saw the ad after a particularly satisfying session with your vibrator.  It said, “Enter to win a night with your favorite performer!”

Your favorite performer had just given you a fantastic orgasm.  In your dopamine haze it seemed like the best idea you’d ever had.  You’ve never had an orgasm with a partner, but he gets you there every time.  Could he do it in person?

The “he” in question was none other than Javi Gutierrez.  The friendliest porn star there ever was.  Sunshine incarnate. You wondered and then you clicked submit.

Now, seeing the room in person, faced with the reality of the large bed and sunlight filtering through the curtains… your brilliant idea doesn’t seem so brilliant anymore.

Erin leads you into the room and continues, “Since you’ve opted not to be filmed, we have removed all the cameras except one.”  She gestures towards a tripod in the corner.  “The lens cap is on though, it’s just for sound.  We will be monitoring the feed just to be sure everyone is safe.”

“I… I don’t know… if I can do this,” you choke out, your breaths coming faster and faster as panic builds in your chest.

“Hey, it’s ok.”  Erin places her hands on your shoulders and captures your darting gaze.  “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.  If you just want to meet Javi and call it a night, that is completely fine.  He really is the sweetest.” She smiles at you, and you let out a long exhale, allowing your shoulders to relax slightly.

“He won’t be upset?”

“Upset? No. Our performers are all very aware of how intimidating this is and would never judge anyone for backing out, Javi especially.  I know he is excited to meet you, though.”

“Me? Why?”  That’s just ridiculous.  One of the most beautiful men in existence is excited to meet jiggly, squishy you?

“He’s excited to meet everyone, all the time, but we did show him your photo and tell him a little about you from your paperwork.  I believe his exact word was deliciosa.”  She winks.

Delicious? What? Javi is always so complimentary to his scene partners, telling them how beautiful they are and how good they feel, but none of his scene partners look like you.

“What do you think? Want to meet him?” Erin asks you gently.

You nod.  “Yeah, I guess.”  If Javi is who you think he is, then he will at least be friendly and kind.

“I’ll send him in in a few minutes. Make yourself comfortable and remember, we are here for you, however you want this evening to go.”  She leaves the room, closing the doors behind her.

You face the bed, the space you’ve traveled to in your mind so many times now real in front of you.  You’ll just meet him, and it will be fine.  So what if you’ll never know what it’s really like to be with him.  So what if this once in a lifetime opportunity passes you by.

You hear the doors open behind you and quickly turn around only to be blinded by the gorgeousness that is Javi Gutierrez.

He’s wearing a white tank top that shows off his broad, muscular shoulders, lightly freckled from the sun, and loose linen pants that hang low on his hips, revealing a thin slice of tummy and happy trail.  His skin positively glows in the setting sun.  His hair falls softly in ringlets of brown and gold around his handsome face.

“Hello, I am Javi.” He introduces himself with a wide smile and open arms.  You allow him to gather you into his broad chest, too stunned that this is happening to even introduce yourself properly.  You mumble your name against him.

His scent fills your nostrils—citrus and the ocean breeze—and you breathe it in greedily.  Too soon he lets you go and steps back.  A look of deep concern fills his chocolate brown eyes as he considers you carefully.

“Erin said maybe you want to leave.” His deep voice is so gentle and soothing. “It is ok if you do, but I hope not.”

“You don’t have to say that.”

His brow furrows in confusion. “Say what? That I would be sad not to get to fuck you?”

“You don’t… really want to do… that with me. It’s ok.”  Your cheeks heat as you stutter your answer.

“Of course I want to, why would I not want to? You are so beautiful. Bonita.”

“No I’m not, you don’t want this,” you gesture towards yourself, your tummy, your ass.

“I do want this.  What is wrong with this?”  He looks genuinely confused.  “May I touch you, bonita?”

“I… I guess.”

He takes your hand and brings it to his lips then trails kisses up your arm.  You shiver as his mustache brushes against your sensitive skin.

“¡Que linda!  So beautiful and soft,” he murmurs as he gets to your shoulder, dropping your arm and placing his hands on your waist.  “Why would I not want more of you to fill up my hands?” He slides his hands around to your ass, bringing your fronts together.  You can feel his length hardening between you and your mouth falls open in surprise.  He squeezes your ass, “This. You. Are beautiful.  And I do want to fuck you.  Te deseo, bonita.”

He closes the distance between you to press a kiss on your mouth, currently open in shock.  He teases your lips and chin as his hands knead your ass, pulling you against him.  One hand travels up to palm your breast. He finds the hard point of your nipple and you gasp as he pinches it.

“Do you not want the cameras because you do not think you are beautiful, bonita?” he whispers against your skin as he drags his angular nose along your jawline.

You nod as you whimper.  The idea of watching yourself like that… it makes your insides churn.  You just knew when you saw the question in the paperwork that you would never want to watch it, so why record it?

He pulls back and holds your gaze intently.  “It is your choice, por supuesto.  But I hope I can make you feel beautiful tonight.  With me. Will you stay?”

His smoldering gaze is hypnotic and you find yourself replying, “Yes, I’ll stay.”

“Bueno, this makes me very happy.”  The smile that lights up his face confirms his words.

You find yourself smiling back, your insecurities taking a backseat to the fizzy excitement now bubbling through your veins.  His joyful presence is contagious.

Javi returns to your mouth, no longer in teasing nips, but with intent as he draws you into a deep kiss.  His tongue slides against yours with languid, knee-weakening strokes.  He leads you backwards until you feel the bed against the backs of your legs and directs you to sit.  With your head tilted back, he continues to explore your mouth, standing between your legs, his large hands cradling your face.

He steps back and pulls his tank top over his head.  He moves to return to your kiss, but you stop him with your hands on his chest.  You have to see him, touch him, this beautiful man you’ve fantasized about so many times.

“You’re gorgeous, Javi,” you whisper reverently as you drag your palms down his golden chest, delighting when his nipples pebble under your fingers.

“Gracias, bonita,” he chuckles softly.  His fingers trace your jaw and the shell of your ear as you explore his body.  “Undo the tie,” he murmurs as your fingers trace the edge of his trousers.  You can already see the shape of him through the thin material, straining to be released.

You bite your lip and Javi groans, “Fuck. Those lips, ay, son deliciosos.”

Carefully, you tug at the drawstring knot, it gives way, and his pants slide down his beautiful legs, revealing the full glory of his nakedness to you.  His cock bobs in front of you and your mouth waters at the site.  You shift, squeezing your legs together at the ache building at your center.

His glorious length, hard… for you.  It boggles your mind.

“It’s so sexy, you looking at me like that,” Javi growls.  “I can’t wait to fuck you with this cock.”  He strokes himself in front of you.  He’s so thick it sends shivers up your spine.

You look up at him and lick your lips.  “Can I taste you, Javi?” The boldness of the request surprises you even as the words escape your mouth.  You’ve become brave so quickly in the presence of Javi’s obvious desire.

“Absolutamente.  Whatever you want.  I am here for you.”  He smiles down at you as he stands in front of you next to the bed.

You take him in your hand and stroke lightly from root to tip, then bend over to retrace your path with your tongue.  Javi’s approval rumbles in his chest as you lick and taste your way along him, ending with a swirl of your tongue over the head of his gorgeous cock.  Grasping him firmly in one hand you draw him between your lips.

Javi caresses your neck and cheek as you pump him into your mouth.  You close your eyes and focus on remembering the salty taste of his skin on your tongue.  You never want to forget.

You lose yourself in the rhythmic action, stroking him with your hand in time with your mouth until your jaw aches.  You pull back to catch your breath only to have his mouth on yours again.

“Your turn, bonita,” he practically growls into your mouth.  “I need to taste you. Por favor. Lo necesito.”

You remove your clothes with his help. You want to look down, away from his face, so you don’t see his reaction to you, but you force yourself to meet his gaze.  What you see looking back at you is pure lust and desire.

Goosebumps rise over your skin at the intensity of it, your nipples pebble and your pussy throbs.

“So soft,” he whispers reverently, cupping your breasts.  He squeezes and moans before taking your nipple in his mouth.  He presses you back, so you’re laying on the bed.  Out of habit, your arms move to cover your body, to somehow make yourself smaller.

“Don’t hide from me, bonita.”  Javi gently takes your wrists and pins your hands out to the side.  “Let me see you. You are so beautiful. Quiero verte.”

Sincerity shines from his kind eyes.  You take deep breaths and relax.  You want to trust him.

He kisses your lips then travels down your neck, sucking at your pulse point and making you gasp.  He gathers your breasts in his large hands and nuzzles into them before taking each peak in his mouth.  He travels across your belly, licking and nibbling at your roundness, before grasping your thighs in his hands and licking a broad swipe up your slit.

You moan as his warm mouth envelopes your cunt and his tongue nudges at your sensitive bud.  “Delicioso,” he groans between licks.  He slips a finger inside you, and you instinctively roll your hips into him.

Him stroking you inside and out is divine, and you try to sink into the sensations and just enjoy, but a thought keeps worming its way back in.  Your mind won’t let it go, so you clear your throat, “Um Javi? I need to tell you something.”

“What is it, sweetheart? Are you ok?  Do you not like it?” he kisses the inside of your thigh, looking worried.

“No no, it feels so good, don’t stop.  I just…  I… fuck…” you lose focus, distracted as he resumes dragging his fingers in and out of your pussy, circling your clit with his thumb.

“I have read your papers, have you changed your mind about something?”

“No, it’s not that.  It’s just… I’ve never… come with a partner.”

“Hmm,” he murmurs into your skin, continuing to stroke you, “Do you come when you watch me?”

“Every time,” you moan as his fingers find a spot deep inside that makes your arch off the bed.

“Then we will see.  It is ok if you do not.”

“I want to.  With you.”  You do, so so badly.

It’s something you’ve thought about a lot.  It could be a matter of skill, but you can get yourself off alone just never with a partner.  You have a suspicion that how you feel about your body might be the reason.  None of your partners have ever said anything to make you feel badly, but you haven’t exactly let them appreciate you either, assuming that they wouldn’t.

You cover yourself, turn off the lights, only partially undress, in the hopes that a partner won’t notice what you look like.  As if they haven’t been looking at you in all the moments leading to the bedroom.

But Javi didn’t let you do that.  In this bright room, you bared yourself to him and he said you were deliciosa.  

“You have my word, I will try very hard,” he places his free hand over his heart, sealing his promise with a nod, making you giggle. “And we have things to help, if you need them.  It is ok. I will take care of you.”

“Thank you, Javi, oh…” you cut yourself off with a moan as Javi dives back into your cunt, sucking your clit into his mouth and making your hips jerk.

You decide to believe him and work to clear your mind.  Your eyes drift close as you focus on the pleasure he is pulling out of you.  His warm tongue strokes wide and firm, circling your clit in determined strokes.  You let your body respond how it wants.  Your hips rock into him with each stroke of his tongue, seeking that perfect pressure.  It feels amazing.

But you don’t come.

Before you can get frustrated, Javi kisses his way back up to your tits and gathers them in his palms.  “Look at you in my hands,” he moans, mouthing at your soft flesh, swirling his tongue around each nipple.  You take the opportunity to run your fingers through his silky hair, twirling one curl and then another.

He groans in appreciation when you tug slightly.  The sound goes straight to your core.

He looks up at you with a wicked grin. “Roll over, bonita.”

He rolls you on to your stomach, kneeling across your outstretched legs.  He gently smacks your ass cheek, sending ripples through your body. You gasp and your pussy clenches around nothing. 

“Yesssss,” he hisses and he smacks you again.  “Look how you bounce for me.”

He takes handfuls of your ass cheeks and kneads and squeezes them together.  Suddenly you feel his cock slide through the cleft of your ass.  You try to twist to see him but can only get glimpses of him staring down at you, slack jawed and wrecked.

Your body is making him look like that.  It makes you feel powerful, and you wish you could watch him enjoy you.  For the first time, you regret not allowing the cameras.  

“Fuuuck,” Javi growls, sliding his cock between your ass cheeks.  You whimper and whine pinned underneath him.  “I could come like this, bonita, you feel so good.”  He lets your ass cheeks fall apart and smacks them again before gathering you back up around his cock.  “So juicy and plump.  Fucking amazing.”

You’re drenched with arousal and unable to relieve any of the pressure.

“Fuck me, Javi, please,” you beg.

“Sí, bonita, I will fuck you,” he growls.

Javi scoots back and rolls you over then wedges himself between your legs.

Taking his cock in hand he glides himself through your slippery folds, nudging at your clit with each stroke.  You whimper as he teases you until he notches himself at your entrance.

He eases himself into your channel.  He’s a lot to take and works his way in gently, watching your face for signs of discomfort.

You let out a guttural moan as he bottoms out in your cunt. “So good Javi, you’re so big.  Fuck, I’m so full.”  The stretch of him is glorious.

He pistons his hips slowly at first as you both savor the drag of him through your walls.  Gradually he speeds up until he’s slamming his hips into you.

Every thrust reverberates through your body.  Your breasts and tummy wobble, but you don’t try to stop them.

“Look how you bounce when I fuck you,” Javi groans, continuing his relentless pace, “ it’s so sexy.”  His fingers dig into your thighs as he presses you open.

“Yes Javi, more… yes… please.” You beg nonsensically as your orgasm begins to sparkle at the edges of your awareness.

“You need to be filled up, don’t you bonita?  You need to be stretched around this cock.  That’s it.  Fuck. You feel so good.”  He moves a hand in between your bodies to circle your clit and you cry out.

“I think I’m close, Javi,” you whine.  He circles your clit faster continuing to drag his thick cock in and out of you.

“Let go, bonita.  Let me see it.”

You tip over the edge, an edge you have never found with a partner before, but you’ve never felt so desired with a partner before and so free in your body.  Javi’s skill with his cock and mouth and fingers is unparalleled for sure, but what does it is the look in his eyes and his filthy words when he fucks you.

He has made it so clear that his arousal is not despite your body, but because of it.  And he made you believe it too.

“Bonita?”

“Mmmm?” you mumble as you come back into your body, the aftershocks of your orgasm spacing farther and farther apart.

Javi is next to you, holding the back of your hand up to his lips as he peppers it with kisses.

“I have a question.”

“What is it?” you crack one eye open.

“Can I go get Erin to set up some cameras? For the next one?” he asks, eyes wide and hopeful.

You bite your lip as a shy smile spreads across your face.  “Yeah, ok.”

“Deliciosa.” He smiles in return before bounding out of the bed towards the door, leaving you giggling on the bed.

You stretch out while you wait for him to return, feeling more at home in your body than you have in a long time. You wiggle your fingers and toes and smile to yourself. The next one is going to be fun.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - 

Translations: Deliciosa/o/son deliciosos – delicious, they are delicious Bonita – beautiful Que linda – how beautiful/pretty Te deseo – I desire you Por supuesto – of course Bueno – good Gracias – thank you Absolutamente – absolutely Lo necesito – I need it Quero verta – I want to see you

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Taglist – in reblog

[nemisisnemi]

Nemi’s 100 followers Art Raffle! 

I’m holding this event as a way to thank you all for getting me to 100 followers :D 

I’d like to give a special thanks to: ( @loser-jpg @spookyavenuestreet, @lemonchuu @artistnettles, @nyx-of-night, @celestcelest, @vauxxnm (and so many more i cannot @ in one go due to the tag limit but you know who you are!! I'll be tagging more ppl in the reblogs!) for supporting me on my journey all the way to 100 followers! Thank you for always interacting with my posts <3 

EVENT RULES: 

No harassment is allowed. You will be taken out of the raffle and blocked. 

If you have multiple accounts, be sure to link your other account(s) in your bio or intro post. 

Do not ask me when I will be starting the pieces. I have a busy schedule and do not know when I will have the time. 

No NSFW & suggestive requests allowed!!  No furry & mecha requests, I do not have the skillset to draw these. 

The winners must send me(preferably multiple) references and or descriptions of what they want drawn. Any overly complicated details and or clothes will be simplified. 

The winners will be allowed 2 changes when I check in with them with their pieces. 

GUIDELINES + INFO: 

This event will be held for a week from (July 23 12:00 am - July 30th 11:59pm est time) and I’ll randomly select the winners at the end of the week via the wheel of names (https://wheelofnames.com/)

To enter, all you need to do is to reblog this post with the tag “nemi 100 followers event”! Each username will apply as an entry. While multiple reblogs are appreciated, you’ll only receive one entry to give everyone a fair chance! Any follows during this event are greatly appreciated

There will be 5 winners selected in total

The 1st & 2nd place winners get to choose one of the options I've given and the rest of the winners will get their respective prizes. Once the 1st & 2nd place winners have selected their choice, it cannot be changed. 

I will be tagging & DMing the winners so make sure you have your dms opened! If there is no communication from the selected winners within 24 hours, I will select someone else for that slot. 

Prizes:

1st place: (choose only one of these options!)

Full body colored/rendered piece w/ a simple background 

2 characters simple interaction bust shots in one drawing sketch/clean lineart (can be characters or ocs but no color!) 

one character colored bust shot w/ simple background 

examples below!:

first piece(from left -> right) is full body example, 2nd one is of the bust shot, 3rd one is the type of rendering I'll be doing, 4th one is an example of the sketch I will be doing

2nd place: (choose one only)

a full body sketch/lineart piece w/ no color & background 

one character bust shot w/ no color & background

examples below!:

ignore the doodles around the first piece, but that will be somewhat what a full body no color will look like, 2nd piece is closer to what the style might be in & is also what the bust shot looks like.

3-5th place: one character bust shot w/ no color & background 

If you're curious on what my current art style looks like, go through my recent posts or master list! The examples I gave aren't 100% accurate to how my art looks like right now.

link to masterlist: here

I would like to give another special thanks to @/celestcelest @glidiaxoxo @raguiras @twistedwonderlandshenanigans for helping me with this event. Go show these people some love!! This event would not be possible without their help!! 

Good luck to everyone and thanks for participating!! 

[myownwholewildworld]

wherever you go (a joel miller’s ff) - chapter 7

chapter 6 | series masterlist | main masterlist | chapter 8

pairing: outbreak!2003!joel x f!reader. (it's actually 2004 now)

summary: as idyllic as chicago may seem, the world around you is still in shambles. your duties to the community take you on a rescue mission, one you think will be easy. but will it?

a/n: hiya! we are soooo close to the vision i had for this series, i'm literally shitting myself with nerves but also excitement, ugh 😫 i really hope you like this one! i do appreciate any comments, reblogs and/or likes you may want to leave! even asks/requests if you want to! take care lovelies <3 x

warnings: 18+, mdni. a smidge of angst and fluff. filthy smut (don't you know me by now?). unprotected piv. masturbation (f receiving). oral (m receiving). spanking and one account of pussy slapping. joel's a boobs' guy in this one. soft!dom!joel. pet names (darlin’, sweetheart, baby). then clickers, clickers everywhere. death & violence. swear words. i'm sure i'm forgetting something lol. reader is female, no other description given. reader is mid-late 20s, joel is 37. no use of y/n.  joel’s and reader’s pov.

w/c: ~4.7k.

tags aka the drama wagon (let me know if you want to be added/removed from the list pls!):

@yesjazzywazzylove-blog @pedrospurplerain @missladym1981

@fancyyoouu @smolbeanzzz @guelyury @bishtrouille

“Joel Miller”.

Was that a suicide mission? Probably, but you hoped not.

It wasn’t like you had a choice anyway. The moment you heard Joel’s name being called for this rescue mission, you knew you were going to volunteer to go with the party. Yes, he was going to get angry and try to talk you out of it, but it would be in vain. You would follow him to the end of the world if necessary.

You stood there by his side, the canteen rammed with people ― all of you looking towards the platform in the north corner. One of the leaders, Troy, kept on shouting names to the void. You glanced up at Joel, who was completely still, his eyes fixed on the podium. You couldn’t tell if he was upset or not, but he would soon be for sure.

Once Troy finished talking, an uncomfortable silence ensued, only broken by the quiet sobs of a young fellow whose named had been picked. Eric, you remembered. He must have just turned eighteen, because he looked so damn young. His mother was by his side, hugging him with tears on her eyes.

That scene broke your heart a little.

“Any volunteers?”, said the leader after a minute.

You looked around. No one was talking, everyone pretending they didn’t hear the question.

You felt Joel’s hand firmly grip your left wrist, silently asking you to remain quiet. He knew what you were about to do, but he couldn’t stop you.

You raised your right hand, eyes to the front, avoiding visual contact with him.

“I’ll take Eric’s place”, you said with a steady voice.

Joel grunted audibly, his fingers tighter around your wrist.

“The fuck do you think you’re doing?”, you heard him mumble under his breath.

You ignored him.

“Great, thank you. Y’all are dismissed, except for those elected. Come forward”.

Before Joel had the chance to even talk, Eric and his mother approached you. She hugged you, still sobbing, and you palmed her back in a calming manner. The young bloke stared at you, silently crying and mouthed a “thank you”.

“I’m eternally grateful. Eric is the only person I have left by my side. My husband, my daughter… everyone is gone”, whispered the woman in your ear.

You held the tears by gulping down the knot in your throat. Although you didn’t necessarily volunteer for his son originally, her emotion was so sincere it tugged at your heart.

The woman broke off the hug, touched your forearm in gratitude, and then walked off with her son.

You turned around to face Joel. His jaw was so clenched you worried he was going to chip a molar.

Joel wanted to shake some sense into you so badly, he had to tightly close his fists. He couldn’t comprehend why you would do that. He wanted to keep you safe, and you were not making it an easy task. What if he lost you? What would he do then? That simple thought made him feel sick. You were the glue holding him together, the only reason he woke up every day and didn’t give up.

The mere thought of losing you consumed his brain, whether he liked it or not. He… he loved you, all of you, but was too afraid to speak his mind, to jinx it. Because he was cursed. Saying it out loud would put you in the universe’s bullseye, he was sure of it.

When the woman and his son left along with almost everyone else, Joel pulled you from your elbow, slamming you against his chest. He really was trying not to lose his shit in public, but fear was gripping him by his neck, the grim reaper’s noose strangling him.

“You ain’t coming. I don’t fucking care if that kid dies, you’re staying right here. Tell Troy you have changed your mind now”, he muttered, teeth gritting, his fingers sinking around your flesh.

“You’re hurting me, Joel”, you whispered, and he relaxed his hand’s grip, although he didn’t let go. “Look, I know it’s scary, but if you’re going, I’m coming with you. You won’t get rid of me so easily”, you taunted him.

The joke wasn’t welcomed, which you expected.

“If you get hurt, even a tiny scratch ― I’m gonna fucking kill you myself”, his head was bowed towards yours, his mouth too close, your palms on his chest.

So close you couldn’t refrain yourself from placing a gentle kiss on his lips. That soothed him, but just a bit. You glanced at him, containing your amusement.

“Well, that’s a paradox, don’t you think?”, you spoke softly before taking a step back, holding his hand. “C’mon, they are waiting”.

“We’re not done talking about this”, he grunted.

You dragged Joel to the circle where the other six lucky people were standing around Troy, in time to listen to whatever he had to say about this mission.

“As I was explaining at the beginning of this meeting, our most experienced medic, Sasha, and her team, have not returned from their scavenging run. They went out a couple of days ago looking for medical supplies and we have not heard back from them in the last twenty-four hours. We must bring them back. That is, if they are still alive”, Troy explained while he flattened a map of the city on the table in front of him. “Their last contact was from Illinois Medical District, somewhere around Ogden Avenue. We assume they went in John H. Stroger, Jr. Hospital of Cook County”. Troy laid out the plan to follow, before finishing with a, “You’re leaving in three hours, good luck”.

“Have you lost your fucking mind?”, Joel growled as soon as the door closed behind him.

Even if he wanted to, he couldn’t stop himself from worrying. The memory of almost losing you still haunted him. The overthinking, the fear, the irrevocable doom ― it all made him feel uneasy. He just wanted to keep you away from all harm. That fateful night Joel swore to himself he would never let anything happen to you ― not while he was still breathing.

He had lost too much, but also gained so much ― he could not, would not, lose you too. Even if it was the last thing he did in this world. Over the last year, he had grown attached to you. You taught him there was light on the shore ― that life didn’t have to end the moment he lost Sarah, as much as he wanted it to. You showed him he could still care, laugh, protect, cry, worry, relax, feel. Feel so much, so vividly.

Joel could have said all that to you instead of his scolding question, but he didn’t know any better. His feelings were an entangled mess, one he didn’t have the experience to unravel.

His anger shimmered when you rolled your eyes at him.

“Honestly, I don’t know what you worry about, Joel. It will be fine. We’ve been through worse than this puny, little rescue mission. We’ll be okay”, you downplayed with a sweet smile, your hand stroking his forearm.

“What if we aren’t? What if you get hurt?”, he muttered, his jaw muscles rigid.

Your features softened; your sweet lips pursed.

“I can’t, you’ll kill me yourself, don’t you remember?”, he deciphered your joking tone, but to him this was no laughing matter. “Your paradox?”, you added cocking an eyebrow, mistaking his silence for forgetfulness.

“I know what I said. And I meant it. You can’t get hurt, got it? I forbid you”, his voice was serious. He knew you couldn’t make such a promise, but he insisted anyway, “Promise me”.

Something in you shifted because Joel saw your expression change from amusement to understanding. You got closer, sliding your arms around his waist. Joel draped his around your shoulders, his heart beating loudly in his ribcage. He held you tight, your nose poking his chest, your palms resting on the small of his back.

He shut his eyes, counting his blessings.

“I promise”, you conceded in a hushed tone.

His reply was simple ― he pressed his lips against your forehead as his body relaxed into yours.

At midnight, both you and Joel walked towards the 1999 Jeep Cherokee you had parked on South Damen Avenue. You had just done a reconnaissance mission around the hospital’s west wing. You had been in there for two full hours and didn’t find a living soul, just clickers. You were sweaty because of the physical effort, your gun still hot. You cleaned the blade of your knife on your jeans before sheathing it in your belt. You trotted to the passenger’s side while Joel headed towards the driver’s, both of you jumping in the car.

Two members of the team, Jordan and Margaret, had just taken over you after you reported back to them what you encountered inside. You saw them walking towards Winchester Avenue to sweep the north wing of the building. Daisy and Adam just returned too and headed towards the second car in West Polk Street ― they had explored the south wing at the same time as you had been inside. Luke and Taylor had just taken over them to inspect the east wing of the hospital.

“That was… interesting”, you said while closing the passenger’s door. “If they really went in there, there was absolutely no trace of them. It’s like they have vanished”.

“Yeah, it’s weird. Not even one clicker was dead before we entered. If they had encountered any issues, surely they would have killed some of them. We should have seen bodies or something, I dunno”, Joel thought out loud, leaving his firearm on top of the dash at the same time you did.

“Let’s see if Jordan and Margaret, or Luke and Taylor get back with news, otherwise this is going to be boring as fuck”, you commented as Joel leaned towards you to open the glove box. “What are you doing?”, you asked him out of curiosity.

“Looking for entertainment”, he then pulled a pack of cigarettes with a smile on his face. “You smoke?”, he asked while breaking the plastic seal around it.

You shook your head. It wasn’t a habit you wanted to pick up now, although you didn’t mind others smoking. Joel rolled down his window while pressing the car’s cigarette lighter against the tip of the fag. He then put the lighter back in its slot and laid his right hand on your left thigh ― his fingertips stroking your inner thigh. So possessive, your temperature started to rise, a slick warmth pooling in your lower belly.

You glanced at him with a raised eyebrow, but he didn’t notice ― Joel was looking through the driver’s window, his elbow poking out and resting on the door frame while he took a puff. You hovered your fingers over his on your thigh, your palm against the back of his hand, your digits intertwined in a fist as you slid them closer to your crotch.

“I could entertain you, if you wanted me to”, you whispered when his knuckles nudged your cunt.

Joel turned to look at you so fast you thought he might snap his neck. His eyes drifted down and darkened. He poked your pussy with his knuckles again, this time of his own volition.

“We shouldn’t”, a muscle twitched in his jawline.

You smiled.

“I’m sure Adam and Daisy can keep watch on their own for a while”, you bit your bottom lip as you flattened his hand against your belly and guided him down, underneath your jeans and panties. His palm flushed against your mound. “Please?”, you added, flashing your eyelashes at him.

Joel dunked his middle finger in your wet slit and stroked your clit. You pressed your lips, gazing at him like a needy puppy. He didn’t break visual contact as his index joined the middle finger, both digits tracing your damp furrow. You sobbed quietly as Joel took another drag, submerging his long finger until it disappeared in your weeping hole. He moved it in a circular motion, and you gasped.

“Is this what you need, sweetheart?”, he murmured. You nodded frantically. “Always so needy for some cock, aren’t you?”.

“Not just any cock, yours”, you emphasized with a stuttering voice, your insides melting for him.

His eyes flickered with lust, a sinful grin taking over his lips.

You whimpered, tilting your head backwards to rest against the headrest, as his index joined the middle one in your warm pit. You started panting when he caressed your g-spot non-stop while he finished his cigarette nonchalantly. Joel stubbed it out when he was done with it and then pushed his fingers in your cunt as far as he could take them, bottoming out, to the point where the force he was using made you lift your hips off the car seat.

You were so close to coming ― your sleek pussy beating for him, clasping around him. You were so soaked, his digits were drowning inside of you, making squelching noises as Joel fingered you relentlessly. You held on to his torturing wrist, feeling the rhythm he was imposing on you. Your drenched pussy palpitated, your clit on fire ― and so you came with a loud, prolonged moan, your knees shaking.

Joel rubbed your clit one more time before removing his hand from your underwear.

“C’mon, be a good girl now and do your job”, he ordered, cupping his swollen groin.

“Yes, sir”, you murmured, your cunt still gushing, deluging your panties.

He took your right hand and placed it on his bulge, rubbing your palm against the zipper of his jeans. You grasped the metal rod of his headrest while you leaned forward and ghosted his mouth, your playful hand kneading his erection. Your lips crashed and the kiss got sloppy ― his tongue wrestled with yours, while you unbuckled his belt and undid the zipper.

The palm of your hand slid off his length over his briefs. Then you pushed down the elastic of his underwear and his cock popped out. You ignored his shaft to massage his ballocks. You squeezed them gently and Joel let out a horny moan in the middle of the messy kiss. The most perfect melody you ever heard.

You broke off the smooch to catch a breath, your hand still holding his balls, your thumb rubbing the ridge in between his nuts. You pecked his Adam’s apple as you wrapped your fingers around his shaft, moving your hand up and down slowly. Joel sat up a bit to remove his shirt and then rested his back against the car seat again. You kissed the centre of his collarbone, your lips drifting southwards on his skin.

You bit around his belly button when you heard him lit another cigarette, the smoke filling up the cabin. You finally went down on him and showered his cock with wet licks. Joel sighed audibly, relaxing on his seat, which made you smile. Your tongue twirled around the tip of his dick once before you backed off and spit on his erection. You slathered your saliva on his steely column, then bente forward with your mouth open to imprison his glans with your plush lips.

A controlled groan escaped Joel’s mouth ― squirming in place, trying to make himself comfortable when you took his dick in your mouth. He looked down, your head bobbing up and down on his lap, your lips pressed around his cock, creating a seal. He felt himself trapped in your throat, his tip touching the back of your wet cavity. His left hand put the cigarette on his lips and took a long puff as he placed his right hand on your neck. You were wearing a ponytail ― in a moment of weakness he grabbed it resolutely, forcing you down on him.

Your eyes watered, your gag reflex being tested, your chin caressing his testicles. You retched a bit, your throat adapting to his massive girth and length. He had gotten rough for a second, which meant you were pushing him to his limits. When Joel realised that you were struggling a bit, he quickly let go of your ponytail.

“Shit, sorry, darlin’”, he growled.

You freed his cock to breathe and giggled, your mouth full of sticky precum. You started pumping him, kissing the velvety skin on his balls, while his right hand travelled down your back until he seized the back of your underwear and yanked it. The rims of your panties slid over your skin and got stuck in your slit and butt crack, as if you were wearing a g-string. The clothing caught on your clit and you gasped as he pulled upwards, the garment scrunching in your fold, causing a delightful friction against the centre of your pleasure.

Joel stirred his hips, which told you he was close to coming. You sat back up, your teary eyes meeting his lustful ones. He wiped away a tear off your cheek.

“Come sit on my lap, baby, let me fuck that pussy of mine”, he offered, tapping his left thigh, and putting out the cigarette butt on the car’s ashtray.

Before you happily obliged, you pushed down your jeans and panties to your ankles and kicked your feet until they came off. Your t-shirt quickly followed, no bra. Then you hastily straddled him as commanded. Joel set down his hands on your ass and abruptly spanked one of your buttocks. You jerked your hips up at the surprise ― your cunt above his belly button.

Holding you there, he lapped your right nipple with the tip of his tongue. The tight button shrunk in excitement as you whimpered. Then his lips closed around the puckered teat and sucked it in in his mouth. This time you whined, the sound reverberating in your throat as you slammed your eyes shut. Your wanton pussy was dripping on to his belly while he alternated between your boobs to eat them like a glutton ― the discharge of your passion running down from your leaking hole on to his belly button, then pooling on the tip of his manhood, sliding off his happy trail and length to finally gather on his balls.

His tongue gave you no truce ― licking, sucking, taunting, smothering your nipples. You dug your fingers in his hair, pressing his gorgeous face against your breasts. Joel palmed your shivering pussy from behind, his fingertips caressing your clit, which he started tapping sweetly. Your head leaned forward in awe, eyes closed, to kiss his crown. His fingers became more intrusive, his mouth more demanding, until you couldn’t deal with it anymore. You wailed his name as you came, your knees quivering. Then he slapped you hard on your pussy ― one of your hands flew to your lips to stifle your own scream. Joel immediately massaged your puffed-up flaps, his cold skin a calming balm on yours.

“Good girl, sweetheart. Now fuck yourself with my dick”, he instructed you before trapping your nipple in between in his teeth and pulling.

You saw stars behind your eyes.

You let go of his hair, curved your back and cradled his face with both hands, tilting it up towards you so you could kiss him fondly as you dropped your hips. His cock found your pulsating opening �� it was like his body knew its way to yours blindly. Your palms flat against his cheeks, your breath and his collided like a tornado when you both moaned in each other’s mouths. You plummeted on his lap, burying him completely inside of you. Your hips rolled of their own accord. Slowly you rode him, up and down, back and forth, your lips attached to his at all times. The tip of his cock kept stroking the right spot over and over again ― every single time it would drag along your anterior wall, driving you crazy.

You felt like riding a rollercoaster ― your orgasm building up as you approached the top and then you tipped over with no warning. Your lips parted as wave after wave washed over you in bursts. Your cunt narrowed down, choking his dick, palpitating, involuntarily pleading for him to come with you.

“Fuck, fuck ― FUCK”, he groaned painfully, lifting your ass off his cock rashly.

Just in the nick of time, he came ― his cock twitching against your belly button, you wielding him, gently pumping his shaft as the last shots of cum spurted out the slit on his glans. You squeezed his erection one last time, kissing him lovingly on the chin.

Labouredly breathing, both of your hearts slowed down together as you recovered. His gaze darkened ― you could see the longing, the yearning in his eyes. The care, the affection, but also the fear. Your heart swelled at the realisation ― he hadn’t said it yet, but you knew, even though you thought he hadn’t realised it himself. You just needed to be patient with him. You had time.

With a doting smile, your thumb hovered over his lips before you pressed them with yours.

An hour had gone by, and there was no news from Jordan nor Margaret. You had radioed the second car ― they hadn’t heard back from Luke and Taylor either. The pack of cigarettes was only half full now, Joel chain smoking, both of you watching the building attentively. You tried to contact Jordan over the radio, but there was no reply.

You clicked your tongue, handing Joel the radio and grabbing the gun off the dash.

Joel’s eyes darted to you.

“Where do you think you are going?”, his brows furrowed.

“I’m just gonna have a quick look around the corner, that’s all”, you said, opening the passenger’s door.

“Then I’m coming with you”, he grunted.

Joel grabbed his firearm and left the radio on the dash. Both doors shut silently, the night was so eerily calm you could hear a pin drop.

The chilling early December air greeted you as you stepped out. You started walking towards Winchester Avenue, where Jordan and Margaret had disappeared from sight. Joel was a few metres behind you, covering your back.

Then you heard it before you saw it. You signalled for Joel to stop in his tracks. A quiet sob, a thud. With your back against the wall, you sticked out your head to sweep the entrance to the emergency room. Sasha was on the floor, all bloody, Margaret crouching over her. You couldn’t hear their whispers. As Margaret helped Sasha to her feet, the medic whimpered and hobbled, her knees touching the pavement again.

“Shit”, you cursed, running towards them, Joel on your heels. “What’s happened?”, you questioned, putting your gun away, grabbing Sasha’s left arm to drape it over your shoulders.

Sasha just wept, shaking uncontrollably, so you looked at Margaret for answers.

“Where’s Jordan?”, you asked before she shook her head with pouty lips and mournful eyes.

Fuck, you thought, the weight of a massive stone grounding your stomach.

As Sasha stood with you, Joel clutched his fingers around your left elbow, yanking you away from both women. You lost your grip on Sasha as you stumbled with your own feet, Joel’s hand steadying you to prevent you from falling.

You wanted to shout at him, but you refrained. He had drawn his gun and was pointing it to Sasha’s forehead.

“You’ve been bit”, he sentenced, unruffled, his hand still.

You looked down and then you saw teeth’s marks on Sasha’s forearm. Your eyes jumped to hers, a mixture of fear and sympathy.

Margaret sobbed, her hand flew to Joel’s wrist, trying to push down the gun.

“Joel, please, she’s my best friend, we can’t just―”, before she was able to finish, a commotion caught your attention.

Both you and Joel looked up at the same time, a clicker dragging its feet towards you. In its past life, it had been a teen girl, brunette, curly hair. Had it not been for the fungus growing around her mouth, her decomposed expression and awkward walking, you knew she would have been beautiful.

Then it lunged forward towards you, but Joel was quick enough to shoot it right between its eyes. You gasped, clutching onto him. You had a glimpse at his face ― he seemed to have seen a ghost, but the moment was fleeting, his demeanour composed again.

He turned his gun to Sasha once more. You really thought he was going to execute her there and then.

More clicking sounds, dragged by the wind. You could see movement through the glass doors.

“Are you coming or not? She’s staying though”, Joel repeated, his tone soulless.

There was no time to respond, as a small group of clickers tumbled through the emergency doors, throwing them open and running fast towards all of you, as if they had awakened from their lethargy.

Joel reacted before you did ― he snatched you and pushed you in front of him, urging you to run.

“Run! Run!”, he screamed at you, your legs taking you away as fast as they could, Joel racing behind you towards the car.

You heard the loud shrieks as both women were torn apart. You blinked to keep the tears at bay, and you didn’t look back.

Joel skidded through the mud, his hand grasping the handle on the driver’s side as you jumped inside. He swiftly put the keys in the ignition at the same time the radio went off.

“Abort! Drive! GO! THEY ARE HE―”, you both looked towards West Polk Street, the headlights of the other car blinded you as they turned the corner towards South Damen Avenue.

Three clickers were on the roof of the car, two on the hood. The driver steered the wheel to the left abruptly to get rid of the infected, but lost control of the car quickly ― and then hit a tree. Both Daisy and Adam jumped out of the car, horror folding their faces.

You opened the passenger’s door, standing on the edge of the car. The whole scene was hectic, your heart pounding so hard you feared it was going to explode inside your chest. You waved at them.

“RUN! OVER HERE!”, your screams drowned by the characteristic sounds of the clickers. And then the infected caught up with them, knocking them to the ground. “NO!”, you squealed as their deathly screams filled the air.

You froze in place, in shock. You couldn’t look away ― Daisy’s hand emerged from the mass of bodies she was buried under, her fingernails digging the ground to get away. You caught a glimpse of her imploring eyes, a silent plea asking you to save her.

Bile travelled up your throat, but you swallowed hard.

Joel grabbed the back of your t-shirt to pull you back inside the car and pointed to the crushed car, now on fire, the motor of yours roaring awake. Then you saw them. Dozens of infected coming towards you. Your eyes widened, but you managed to slam the door shut as Joel drove away towards Interstate 290.

His driving was manic, as if the devil himself was following you. He turned the wheel so harshly, so many times as he dodged anything and everything in his path, that you had to hold on to the grab handle.

You took a deep breath, trying to calm your nerves. You surveyed the outside world ― your forehead almost touching the window as you saw herds of clickers in motion. Hundreds of them pouring out of the buildings. You scanned the landscape in terror ― there were so many.

Now you understood why this was no man’s land.

Joel laid his hand on your left thigh, a soundless beg to look at him instead of out the glass. So you did. You gaped as if you were about to say something.

“It’s okay, we’re okay, baby”, he whispered, his eyes never leaving the highway.

You both were okay. But at what cost?

Sasha and her team. Adam and Daisy. Margaret and Jordan. And Luke and Taylor, most probably dead too.

So was the world you lived in. So fucking dead.

But you kept your promise, the paradox forgotten. You were okay.

[ily-fictional-women]

Rumors

Summary: A Russian. A cold-blooded killer. An assassin. Or at least that’s what they say about the new recruit in SHIELD. And the worst part is, Y/n will have to work with her without knowing if these rumors are true.

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader + platonic!Maria Hill x fem!reader

Warnings: None that I know of but if I should add anything let me know.

Word count: 3526

a/n: Y/n/l is for your last name since y'all voted for that one the most. Also this was supposed to a be a quick one shot but I kind of got carried away. (Reblogs are welcome and critiques/advice are heavily encouraged, but please no translating.)

Y/n lugs her duffle bag over her shoulder before jumping off the helicopter and feeling the adrenaline from her mission finally subside. Already going on autopilot to her bunk, she’s suddenly stopped. Y/n rubs her eyes, “Maria? What do you want? I’m trying to go to my bunk right now.” Maria holds out a file to Y/n, “Fury wants to talk mission prep with you.”

Taking the file reluctantly Y/n gives her a tight-lipped smile, “Thanks Maria.” As Y/n walked off towards Fury’s office she could hear the other woman holler, “And for the last time L/n, It's Hill. Agent Hill.” Y/n laughs out loud, “And last I checked Hill we’ve been friends way before SHIELD.”

Maria slowly follows Y/n with a grin, “Then as your friend, I should tell you that apparently you’re working with the new rookie everyone’s been talking about.” Y/n immediately stops mid-step, turning to face her friend. “Oh you’ve got to be kidding me,” Y/n groans. “I already don’t like working in teams, but a rookie who’s an emotionless assassin is crossing the line.”

Maria lets out a soft laugh at Y/n’s dramatics. “Just go talk to Fury, Y/n.” Y/n gives her a sarcastic shocked look, “Whoa whoa whoa now. I thought we were on a last-name basis, Agent Hill.”

“Stop stalling and just go Y/n/l.”

Y/n lets out a deep sigh, “Fine”

//

Finally making it to Fury's office Y/n knocks on the open door. “ Agent Y/n/l, good of you to finally join us.” Us? Y/n thinks to herself. Peering her head through the doorway she sees a woman with fiery red hair turn her head to look at her. “Agent Y/n/l stop standing around and sit your ass down.”

Sitting down, Fury clears his throat, “Before we talk about mission work we’ll talk about the elephant in the room. Agent Y/n/l, this is Agent Romanoff, you’ll be working with her on this mission. Now Y/n/l I’m sure you’ve heard plenty about Miss Romanoff, and I honestly don’t care. You two need to work that out yourselves.”

“But I don’t-” Fury cuts Y/n off. “Y/n/l, you’re doing this mission. You gotta learn to work with people.” Out of the corner of Y/n’s eye, she could see the redhead tense up slightly, grip tightening around the arms of her chair.

“Moving on, if you review your mission files you’ll see that your mission is taking place in an underground Hydra laboratory in the White River National Forest. Your goal is to take samples of a new super soldier serum Hydra is attempting to make. Then destroy the lab.”

“And what do we do with the rest of the samples and the laboratory?” This was the first time Y/n heard Romanoff’s voice, she’d heard rumors that Romanoff is Russian but the American accent caught her off guard. “You both will be given explosives with a personal detonator. The faster you get out of there the better. Are we clear on everything?”

Y/n closes her mission file getting up from her seat, “Crystal, sir.”

//

Hearing a quick knock, Y/n opens the door to her room with a yawn, “What do you want, I have a mission tomorrow can’t-” squinting her eyes she realizes it’s Maria. “I was going to ask how the meeting went, as your friend. But I feel like this is a bad time.”

With a huff and another yawn, Y/n pulls Maria into her room before flopping onto her bed. “She’s weird, Maria.” Maria sits next to her on the bed with an amused smile, “And how exactly is she weird?” Y/n throws up her arms dramatically, “She was just so quiet! It was off-putting.”

“That’s not really fair Y/n.” She sits up, “How is that not fair Maria?” Y/n could see a huge grin grow on Maria’s face and already knew what she was going to say. “Rember boot camp? Before SHIELD?” With a dramatic whine, Y/n quickly flopped back down on her back, “I knew it! I knew you were gonna bring this up.”

“It’s a valid thing to bring up, Y/n!” Maria tries to shake her arm to get her attention which results in a quick scowl. “Don’t look at me like that, you know I’m right. You didn’t talk a lot or have a lot of friends then. Now you have me and I can’t get you to shut up.”

“Ha ha Maria. But how is that supposed to help me?” Maria lets out a stressed sigh. “Do I really need to spell it out for you?” Y/n shrugs, “Yeah, please. I’m tired, and I have to wake up early tomorrow.”

“Just try not to treat her like everyone else does. Be nice to her.” Rubbing her face into her pillow, she closes her eyes and lets out a soft, “Okay.”

//

The loud rumble of the helicopter was muted by the headsets Y/n, Romanoff, and the pilot wore. Looking down at the view through her window Y/n could see small flakes start to quickly pile up on the trees below her. “Hey, are you sure it’s safe to fly in these conditions? It’s starting to snow pretty hard.”

The pilot presses on her own headset, “Shouldn’t become a problem as long as there’s no delays, Y/n/l.” With a quick sigh, Y/n presses on her comms headset again, “Copy that Agent May.” It takes another irritatingly quiet silence to land a safe distance from the Hydra base.

After everyone takes off their headsets one by one, Agent May pulls out a tablet with an overview of the base. Turning to face the two she gestures to the defenses of the base. “About half a mile from here is the south entrance, which is closest to the ramp leading to the lab you need to go to. The lab is the most heavily guarded part of the base, so be prepared for that.”

The two quickly nod, slinging the supplies in their duffle bags over their shoulders and trudging through the snow as the helicopter started to lift up into the sky again. Making their way to the entrance, two soldiers guarding the front immediately started firing at the two agents.

Reaching for her sidearm, Y/n manages to shoot one in the shoulder while matching Romanoff’s sprinting pace. On the other hand, Romanoff manages to hit the other guard with a blast from one of her wrist tasers, then sliding on one leg sweeping the guard off his feet. Examining one of the guards' bodies, Y/n pulls off their ID card.

Moving slower and quieter, the two make their way to the ramp leading to the lab– the entrance only being a large cement wall and a steel door with, as predicted, an ID scanner beside it. Y/n begins sliding the ID card but pauses, looking over to Romanoff. “Do you have anything besides those taser things?”

Romanoff pulls out her own sidearm and holsters it, "I’ll be fine Agent Y/n/l.” Sliding the card the rest of the way, the two agents are met with seven guards on the other side of the door. Three on each wall of the narrow hallway and one last extra burly soldier in front of the last door that leads to the laboratory.

One of the soldiers smirks, inching closer to the two and slowly raising his rifle. “Now who let you pretty ladies wander down here?” Immediately Romanoff taps something on her wrist, sending the man into a greater electric shock than the last. Romanoff looks down at him, “We let ourselves in.”

“We?” Y/n asks with a smile, following her lead shooting at the guards.

“That’s what I said,” Romanoff replies plainly as she picks up the rifle the soldier dropped, shooting at the other guards.

Now the only one left is the burly guard who started charging for Y/n. Trying to shoot at him, Y/n’s gun only makes a clicking noise. “I’m ou-'' Before Y/n can even finish her sentence Romanoff taps her wrist again, shooting the man which causes him to immediately fall to his knees and land flat on his face.

Finally taking a moment to breathe, Y/n feels a sharp pain in her shoulder, touching the most painful part and feeling blood. Romanoff looks at her with somewhat of a false calm look, “You okay to keep going?” Y/n nods painfully, “Yeah, yeah. The padding took most of the hit. Just a flesh wound.”

Giving Y/n a hesitant look for a moment she moves forward toward the lab, Y/n following suit. Opening the lab door the two are met with a mess of a lab and an obviously panicking scientist. She immediately breaks a glass beaker, lunging at Romanoff. “Y/n grab the vials!” is the last thing Y/n hears before Romanoff starts wrestling the other woman on the ground.

Searching the tables of the lab, there’s no visible sign of the Hydra super soldier serum. “Agent Romanoff, there’s nothing here.” Romanoff manages to straddle the scientist, slowly inching the broken beaker towards her. “Well then keep looking!”

“I will not have my work seized by some spy scum!” The scientist manages to flip Romanoff over, inching the broken glass closer to her chest. “Romanoff! Catch!” Y/n slides a large sharp piece of glass towards the other woman before getting back to looking for the serum.

With the new shard of glass, Romanoff manages to toss the other woman to the side, stabbing her. But in the process of doing so getting stabbed herself.

“Romanoff! I found some vials! We need to plant the bombs and go-” her voice goes quiet as she notices the wound- “right now. Shit.” Romanoff pulls the glass out of her side, putting pressure on her wound. She grits, “Plant the bombs first, worry about me after, Y/n/l.”

For a second she hesitates wanting to help her, but ultimately she listens to Romanoff’s instincts. Shoving the samples in her pocket, Y/n takes off her duffle bag and begins unloading the explosives. Four explosives, one for each corner of the lab– ensuring that everything is destroyed.

Lugging her bag over her shoulder, Y/n pulls Romanoff off the ground before swinging the agent’s arm over her uninjured shoulder. Hobbling out of the lab, Romanoff groans in pain, “Y’know you don’t need to do this. I can walk fine on my own.”

Y/n manages to let out a pained laugh, “Save your energy and stop complaining, Romanoff.”

Managing to get out of the laboratory is one thing, waiting for extraction will be another thing. Sliding against the cement wall, both Y/n and Romanoff sit down. Looking out in the distance Y/n noticed the snow, there was so much more of it compared to when they first landed.

Pulling out her phone, she called her last resort, Fury.

“Come on, pick up, pick up.”

“Miss Y/n/l, I was just about to call you.”

“Don’t Miss Y/n/l me Fury, where’s extraction?”

“As I was saying Agent Y/n/l, I was about to message you stating that because of an incoming blizzard, it isn’t safe to bring extraction to you. But there’s a SHIELD-owned cabin that Hydra doesn’t know about 2 miles West of your drop-off point. I suggest you start heading there.”

Not having the composure to reply to anything Fury said Y/n just hangs up on him. “Romanoff. Come on, we gotta start walking. Fury said there’s a place we can stay for a bit.” Y/n was met with no reply. Slapping the redhead’s cheek lightly a few times wakes her up. “Good, I can’t have you falling asleep on me Romanoff. Let’s go!”

“The bombs Y/n/l,” Romanoff nearly whispers. “What?” Y/n asks more focused on making it to the cabin. “The bombs,” Romanoff says louder one more time. “Shit, you’re right.” Y/n immediately comes to a stop, nearly causing Romanoff to trip. But with the bomb being set off they needed to move fast.

//

“In SHIELD training there’s similar exercises to walking long distances with partners. What they don’t account for is the snow, injuries, and trees! So many damn trees. I don’t know why I’m rambling, you've probably gone through SHIELD academy.”

Romanoff hisses in pain, “I haven’t, and you can stop complaining about the trees-we’re here.” The outside of the cabin looks practically abandoned, with the paint peeling and wood rotting. When touching the rusted handle though, an automated voice appeared. “Access granted. Welcome Y/n Y/n/l.”

Unlike the outside of the cabin, the inside looked nice. It wasn’t luxurious looking but it worked. And most importantly, there was a fireplace. Easing Romanoff onto a nearby chair gave Y/n a moment to look through the drawers of the cabin. “Matches! Finally.”

Flicking a lit match into the pre-placed pile of wood in the fireplace, Y/n starts rummaging through her duffle bag, grabbing a first aid kit and kneeling in front of the other woman. “Okay, Romanoff this is gonna sound super weird but I’m gonna need you to unzip your jumpsuit.”

“I- It’s too cold.” Y/n stands up, wrapping one of Romanoff’s arms over her shoulder once more. “We are going to sit on the floor in front of the fireplace then, because I can’t have you dying on me here.”

Y/n eased Romanoff on the floor, quickly sitting in front of her looking for the right supplies. “Your shoulder.”

“What about my shoulder Romanoff?”

“You’re bleeding through your jacket Y/n/l.” Y/n shrug,s finally pulling out the right supplies from the first aid kit. “I told you already. I’m fine.” Y/n flashes a quick smile, “Now you need to unzip that jumpsuit so you can stop bleeding. Please.”

With a painful groan, she unzips the jumpsuit, revealing a black sports bra and a nasty wound not so far below it before tying the upper part of her jumpsuit to her waist. “Okay, you shouldn’t need that many stitches. Can you lean back a bit?”

Leaning back, Romanoff could already feel the sharp sting of alcohol. She was in pain, but trying to hide it. “You wanna talk?” Y/n asked, managing to keep her focus on cleaning the wound. “What do you mean talk?” Y/n shrugs, not breaking her focus, “Anything,” she glances up at the redhead. “It usually helps me forget about what’s happening.”

Romanoff lets out a dry chuckle, “I don’t think I’m in a talking mood.”

“What if I ask questions and you just answer them? It’s less effort,” Y/n grins. “And it’s the least you could do for me after I dragged you for two miles in a snowy forest.”

“I told you I could walk fine on my own.”

“Yet you didn’t bother to stop me once on the way here.” Romanoff lets out a deep annoyed sigh, “Fine. Only five questions though.” Y/n glances up at her one more time with a subtle smile, “Deal. First question, what’s your name? In situations like these, I usually like to be on a first-name basis.”

“It’s Natasha, Romanoff.” Y/n pauses immediately, before tossing a cotton ball to the side with a playful smile plastered across her face. “Can I call you Nat then?” Natasha cracks a genuine half smile with Y/n’s being too infectious. “We’ll see, but that does count as one of your questions.”

“All right, all right, fine.” Y/n continues cleaning the wound. “So, third question, your accent, is it real?”

“No, but I’m sure it’ll become real over time.” Starting the first stitch Natasha winces, but Y/n just keeps talking. “So if you fake your accent, is that why you don’t talk a lot? So you don’t slip up.”

“I’m not afraid of slipping up. I think it makes things less complicated. Less questions are asked, usually.” Y/n slips out a loud sarcastic laugh finishing the second stitch. “Wow! I think you just made a joke!” Natasha smiles to herself, “I think I did. But you’re on to your last question.”

“Okay, why did you join SHIELD?” Y/n can see Natasha bite the inside of her cheek, regretting the question. “You don’t have to answer or anything I can-” Natasha stops her, “No, no it’s fine. Um, long story short I was part of the red room. Then I met a guy who gave me an opportunity to clear some red from my ledger and take down the red room. So I took it.”

“Have you thought of reclaiming the title Black Widow then? Maybe clear the red of the title itself, make it something good?” Natasha gives Y/n a mock shocked look, “I thought you agreed to just five questions?” Y/n shrugs with a smug grin, “I mean I finished up when you were talking about clearing your ledger. I figured I might be able to sneak one more in.”

“How about this, you take that jacket off and let me look at your shoulder that’s ‘just fine,’ then I might answer it.” Y/n collects all the bloody materials used to clean up Natasha’s wound, throwing them away. “And I told you it was just a flesh wound, Nat. I’m okay.”

“And flesh wounds still should be disinfected Y/n, sit down.” With a loud reluctant sigh, Y/n sits in front of her, unzipping her jacket and exposing the bloody shoulder with a small hole made by the bullet. After leaning back a little, Natasha Immediately starts cleaning the surrounding area of the bullet wound.

“What about you?” Natasha asks as she continues cleaning the wound. “What about me?” Instead of avoiding eye contact this time, Y/n keeps her eyes on Natasha. “Why did you join SHIELD?” Y/n smiles, “No, nope. You didn’t answer my question first.”

“Fine, I’ve thought of it. Now what about-” Natasha quickly pulls out the bullet in Y/n with tweezers, “you.” Y/n yelps in pain pressing a hand against her shoulder for a moment before letting Natasha get back to work. “Okay, next time give me a warning.” Natasha grins to herself, “You should hope there isn’t a next time.”

“You knew what I meant. Anyways, when it comes to your question I joined SHIELD because my best friend did. Before SHIELD her and I, Maria, we served as Marines together. But Fury realized could do more, be more if we joined SHIELD. And she saved me enough times back then for me to trust her.”

“Do you trust me?”

“Considering you are finishing patching up the shoulder I got shot in, I'd say yes. Not with my life though, yet.”

“Do you plan to trust me with your life?”

“I don’t see why not. Having just one person to trust like that is limiting.”

“Trusting me like that is dangerous though.”

“Sometimes you need to live life a little dangerously.”

//

“That was a good debrief Romanoff, although I think you could have left out the part about me complaining about the trees.” Natasha grins, “Maybe don’t complain about trees the next time we’re in a forest then Y/n/l.”

As Natasha starts to walk off to her bunk Y/n stops her, “Nat, wait.” Natasha has a faint smile visible on her lip. “Did you need something Y/n?”

“Not really, I was just wondering if you wanted to maybe train together sometime. You could even teach me that leg sweep move you did.” Natasha crosses her arms looking Y/n up and down for a second. “Yeah, we could do that. Just prepare to fall a lot.”

“Am I interrupting something?” Both women jump a little, Y/n specifically turning around to see who it is. “Oh! Maria! Ehm um, I mean Agent Hill. Did you need something?” Natasha starts backing away, “I think I’ll leave you two to whatever is going on.”

“Okay, I’ll talk more about that move tonight?” Natasha smiles, “Yeah. That works.” As Natasha walks out of earshot Maria immediately starts giggling. "I told you to be nice to her Y/n/l, but not that nice." Y/n looks at Maria with a slight blush coming onto her face. "Wait, what do you mean by that?"

Maria shrugs with a suggestive smile on her face, "Y'know what forget that, how'd the mission go." Y/n smiles bashfully, "Uh it was good, it went really well actually."

"You like her don't you?"

"W-what no. It's not like that." Maria smiles knowingly, "Oh it totally is like that." Y/n slaps Maria’s arm in embarrassment, "Shut up."

"For what it's worth," Maria glances over Y/n's shoulder, "it looks like she likes you too."

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

All In 13

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, power imbalance, low self esteem, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

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

Summary: you meet a mysterious man on a night out with your sister. (petite!reader)

based on the winning option for this poll

Characters: casino owner!Bucky Barnes

Note: I had this pistachio cake and it was so good. I didn't know what else to put here but yum.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You’re shaking, barely able to keep your legs from collapsing beneath you. Even with Bucky’s arm around you, you’re weak. His confidence makes you feel even smaller; reminds you of who and what you really are. You’re not this. You’re not arm candy. You’re not some gorgeous supermodel. You’re just you. 

As you get to the end of the hall, you face the elevator and wait. His large hand squeezes your hip and he draws you even closer. He surprises you with a peck on your head. A thrill flows through you. 

“I’m the luckiest guy in this casino, baby,” he purrs and urges you through the doors as they open. 

You gulp and lean back into his arm as you step on, the transparent walls peering down on the drop. You try not to look and put your hand over his. You cling to his fingers and close your eyes, dizzy from the descent. 

“Ah, I forgot, doll,” he holds you even snugger, “Don’t worry, I got you. You stay close to me, alright?” 

“Okay,” you wisp out as the motion of the elevator adds to your displacement. 

When at last you reach the bottom, you nearly wriggle right out of his hold. He keeps you firmly against him and struts off with you at his side. He releases you only to hook his arm through yours. You cling to him if only to keep from tripping in the heels. 

You look down at yourself, recalling your attire as you pass a mirrored wall. You barely recognise the woman and yet it’s you. The make-up isn’t too heavy, your hair is perfectly done, and despite your frightened expression, you look good. Better than ever. Well, anything is an improvement over your typical aesthetic. 

You pass through the hotel lobby into the main room of the casino. The ringing of machines and flashing lights stun you. He stops with you and raises his chin proudly. To him, it’s just another night. For you, it’s a night you won’t ever forget; one you’ll never know again. 

“All of this is ours, doll,” he says. You wince at that word; ‘ours’. It’s a fantasy, he knows it. It must be what he tells all his women. 

You can only let a jitter shake you. He continues on and you follow. The chaos of the casino has you senseless. You drift through like his shadow as he pulls you along.  

Yet, you notice that you are not unseen. You feel the eyes all around you, you see them. Necks crane, bodies twists, and lips whisper. You’re overly aware that they’re watching you. No, they’re watching him. 

You feel ice form a shell over you. You numb yourself to it all as best you can. If you let yourself feel the storm brewing inside you, it will surely blow you over.  

Bucky stops you and winks at you. He reaches to rub your hand on his forearm and gives a squeeze, “relax. I got you. You trust me, don’t you?” 

You exhale and nod, “yes.” 

“Alright, then, doll,” he pulls his arm back and puts his hand on the small of your back, “let’s go.” 

He walks you along, a casual pace. The looks continue. People acknowledge him as he passes, the bartender calls him sir and several other staff. He approaches a table and you steel yourself nervously. Men in suits chuckle loudly as dice are thrown against the trim. 

“Stark,” Barnes stops beside a man with grey patches at his temple, “you didn’t bring your own dice again, did you?” 

“They searched me on the way in. What’s that about?” The man snickers, “but I see you get to bring your own toys.” 

The man makes a show of looking around Bucky, leering at you. Bucky pushes him straight by the chest, “never had any problem finding something to play with.” 

“Ah, don’t be so sensitive. Your girls are always so much fun,” the man, Stark, taunts. 

“Keep your hands to yourself, that goes for the staff too,” Bucky warns. 

“Wow, have you demoted yourself to bouncer now?” 

“These are my people, Tony,” he claps the man’s shoulder, “consider it a friendly reminder. I know you tend to forget.” 

The man scoffs and rolls his eyes. He takes the dice as they’re held out to him and tosses them onto the felt. Bucky tickles your lower back with his finger and you squirm, elbowing an unexpected figure behind you. You let out a squeak and turn as Bucky does the same. 

“Hey,” a skinny man, not much taller than yourself greets, “been looking for you.” 

“Steve,” Bucky says, “what’re you doing here?” 

“Ah, you know,” he scratches his floppy golden hair, “you haven’t picked up your phone so--” 

“Shoot, what’s the date?” 

“Buck, it’s tomorrow,” the blond, Steve, grins, “I’m just making sure you show up. Ma would be real disappointed.” 

“I wouldn’t miss Sarah Rogers’ birthday for anything,” Bucky avows, the genuine tone in his voice wrenching at your chest. “You gonna stay and enjoy the tables? You still got your complimentary chips waiting on you.” 

“Told ya, I don’t like to gamble,” Steve chuckles, “but thanks.” 

“I’m sorry, buddy. I should’ve picked up. I’ve been so busy...” Bucky pauses as Steve smiles at you sheepishly as if he’s only just noticed you.  

“I get it,” Steve’s lashes flick, “she’s... miss, you’re real pretty.” 

He sounds as nervous as you feel. His cheeks tinge pink and he tucks his thumbs into his pockets. His brown slacks definitely don’t fit into the sparkling casino. Bucky laughs too. 

“Chill, have a drink at the bar before you go.” 

“Thanks, pal,” Steve smooths back his hair, “but I should probably head out--” 

“She don’t bite, Rogers,” Bucky chides, “well, I’ll tell her to keep her teeth to herself,” he rubs your back and slips his fingers around your side, pulling you close once more. “Have a drink for me, alright?” 

“Alright,” the smaller man exhales, “don’t forget.” 

“I won’t,” Bucky promises. 

As the blond strides away, slightly off kilter as he looks around, seeming lost as he tries to see around the people around, Bucky draws you away from the dice table. The small man reminds you a lot of yourself in some ways. He’s braver than you, he came all alone. 

“That... who?” You wonder. 

“My best friend. Since we were kids,” he answers, “good guy, just a bit... uppity. His ma’s got her birthday tomorrow. You should come.” 

“Oh, uh, that’s... I don’t know--” 

“She’ll be happy to meet ya. She’s been telling me to settle down for years,” he scoffs. “Her son too and he does try...” 

“Well, this isn’t.... it’s early--” you stammer. 

“You still don’t believe me,” he challenges you as he angles you to face him. He brings his hands to your arms, stroking the bare skin with his roughened fingertips, “you don’t think I’m gonna keep ya, doll?” 

“No, I didn’t-- I don’t know. It’s all so new and—I'm sorry, Bucky, I want to—I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t know--” 

“Shhh, doll, I’m not mad. I got work to do. That’s fine,” he trails his fingers up the strap of your dress and tickles your throat, “I’ll keep it up, don’t you worry. Let’s get ya a drink.” 

He walks you to the bar, laying his hand on the top as the bartender crosses to him attentively. Bucky pauses before he orders and looks at you, “ladies first. What do you want, doll?” 

You look between Bucky and the bartender. You have no idea. You weren’t planning on drinking, you’re already a mess as it is but you don’t want to be rude. 

“You like cranberry, doll? How about a cosmopolitan?” Bucky suggests. 

You nod and face the bar again, “sure, uh, please, a cos...” 

“Cosmopolitan, coming up,” the bar tender agrees, “usual, sir?” 

“Single,” Bucky holds up a finger, “I wanna keep my wits about me.” 

The bartender sets to work and you fidget. You crane around to see the rest of the casino, a furor rising from the blackjack table. Bucky rubs your arm and draws your attention back to him. You give a nervous smile as you try not to think about those watching you in turn. 

“Hey, don’t even worry about it,” his voice is low and gravelly as he brings a finger up under your chin, “the only thing that matters is us, doll.” 

Before you can react, he leans in to kiss you. You’re caught entirely off guard, trapped in his snare as his tongue glides along your lips. He hums and pulls back, dropping his hand with a sigh. 

“I gotta get a hold on myself,” he laughs as he shows his palm, “you make it hard, doll. You really do.” 

You rock and smile bigger. Your cheeks are fiery and your temples are pounding. The bartender announces your cocktail and puts it up. Bucky takes it and hands it to you. You thank him as he turns to retrieve the short tumbler of flat whiskey. 

“Go on, have a taste, doll,” he encourages as he gives a gentle tap to the base of the stemmed glass. 

You look down at the coned glass of vibrant red liquor and juice, a twist of lemon against the brim. You raise it cautiously and give a sniff before you press your lips around the glass. Your eyes flick up as Bucky lets out a rumble. He fixates on your mouth as you sip, his teeth graze over his lower lip. 

Your cheeks pinch as you taste the mixed drink and you pull it away from your mouth. You dab your lips with your knuckles, terrified of smearing the gloss. You flutter your lashes at him and force another tight smile, “mm, it’s... sweet.” 

“Dangerous,” he smirks, “I don’t do cocktails. They go down to easy.” 

“Oh,” you give a guilty pout. “I don’t...” 

“It’s fine, it’s not that much,” he waves off your excuse, “really, doll, you could use it. It’ll help you relax.” 

“Right, er, thanks,” you slowly turn the stem between your fingers and look down at the glass. “I’m sorry I don’t...” 

“Hm,” he shifts closer as your voice drifts off, “sorry for what, doll?” 

He nudges you smoothly away from the bar, putting you back into step as he casually traverses the floor, his hand right on your back. He guides you subtly with the constant warmth between your hips. It is both comforting and disjointing. He’s there with you, propping you up, and yet you do not belong. 

“I don’t really fit, er, or... know what to do,” you murmur. 

He leans in to hear your small voice. He scoffs. 

“Let me tell you something, doll. You fit just nice on my arm. You don’t need to worry about anyone else but me, you got it? All these people in this room, they’re nothing. All these lights, all this noise, and I can only see you,” he purrs. 

You giggle nervously. He’s so flattering. He always knows just what to say.  

“Thanks, I...” you look away, embarrassed at your little confession. You’re supposed to be trying to blend in and yet you can’t help but put yourself on the sideline. He’s not the type. He is the main attraction. 

“You feel better, doll?” He asks as he rubs the dip of your back. “If it’s too much, we can go somewhere else.” 

“I’m... I’m good. I don’t wanna ruin the night,” you say, “really.” You raise the glass and sip again, “it’s really good, thank you, Bucky.” 

“Mph, I love it when you say my name,” he snarls, “come on.” 

He continues along, guiding you between tables and behind distracted bodies. The tables are packed with gamblers and figures pass from one to one, a line forming around the counter dolling out chips for cash. You take it all in, as if it’s a scene in a movie, observing all the background characters... still, you don’t feel like the star. 

A sharp pain strikes your arm suddenly and you stumble into Bucky. He keeps you from teetering onto your ass as he hugs his arm around you. Your cocktail slips out of your grasp and the glass cracks on the floor, splashing the remnants across the carpet.  

You’re pressed into Bucky as the unstable man latches onto the tall stool he just slid off of. The impact of his elbow thrums in your arm and you rub the tender spot and wince. Bucky shifts you behind him and moves as fast as a shadow. The back of his dark jacket strains across his shoulder blades as he grabs the man by his collar. 

“Hey, what the hell are ya doing? Watch yourself! You nearly knocked my woman over,” he sneers as he as good as shakes the man, “you made a mess of my carpet, you scumbag.” 

“Bucky,” you squeak in horror, the hot eruption of rage surprises you. He is a different man; he looks more like a wolf as he snarls at the offender. “It was an accident--” 

“Nah, it was a mistake,” Bucky brings the man even closer, “get the hell outta my casino before I break you like that glass.” Bucky shoves him away and kicks the broken glass on the floor, “now.” 

He puffs his chest out as the other man rambles drunkenly, apologising and staggering, skittering off in an uneven gait. He glances back several times as if fearing he’ll be followed. Bucky signals across the room and you see a man in a suit nod; he must be security. 

“Bucky,” you touch his elbow and gently graze his sleeve down to his hand, “are you okay?” 

He opens his fist and lets you tuck your hand into his. You’re quaking again. You cling to him out of need. You’re adrenaline rings in your ears. You don’t like anger. 

“I’m sorry--” 

“Don’t be sorry, doll,” he squeezes your hand as he exhales the tension from his shoulders. He looks down at your hand and lifts it, turning to you as he kisses the back of it. He leaves a tingle on your skin, “I like that.” He tightens his grip as he keeps a hold of you, “you need a fresh drink, doll.” 

[typicalopposite]

Oh wow! Hey, Hi– um… How are ya?!

I have so much on my plate with asks I still need to get to and two WIPs (plus a couple things not currently being posted) I’m working on that I don’t think I could ask for prompts or anything. Maybe I’ll think up something for if I get to 500 🫶

Sooo instead I will give you some sappy sappy word vomit below the cut👇

I just hit 400 followers <3 which might not be a huge number compared to other blogs on this app, but it is leaps and bounds more than I ever thought I’d have. Especially since, when I first joined I only expected to lurk around other peoples posts… maybe share a few… mostly because I have never been much of a blogger— I have tried in the past, and it never stuck (first time for everything I guess)— but also because I’m extremely introverted, and as much as I would LOVE, and desperately attempted, for it not to bleed into my online persona… it did, regardless. BUT, somehow as quiet and kept to myself as I always wind up becoming in the fandoms I’m a part of… I still have managed to meet some TRULY amazing people through them!

@scripted-downfall wench, angst queen you are so important to me and I hope I’m lucky enough to keep you a part of my life forever! 🫶

@onthewaytosomewhere MELZZZZ! Always a shoulder to vent on about my stressful stressful life! My smut writing mentor 😂 I luv you!

@bucksxkinard and @somethingaboutfirefly tumblr besties!!! You two inflate my head so much about my writing but you have no idea how appreciated you are!

@30somethingautisticteacher @judymarch15 @sunnywithachanceofbi @nine-one-wanton @herrmannhalsteadproduction my golden girls 😂 giving me a little bit of everything: feelings(Hannah) rarepairs(Judy) angst(Chrissy) smut(Jo) memes (Kay). And don’t get me started on how you each interchange these and so I’m just fed for daysss! (Plus, Bucks dreams, come onnnn) It’s an honor to be a part of that *said in Tommy’s voice, of course*

@girlwonder-writes you found me and brought me into your amazing accepting community. And your ability to flesh out OCs (Olivia my beloved she is so mean to you, lol) and your encouragement for us to show our OCs love! 🫶

And to all of you other amazing people— @witchy-writer-lady @thecadenceimperfect @windwardstar @adinarj @luainthewild /@meraki-yao @hgejfmw-hgejhsf @priincebutt @thinkof-england @tailsbeth / @shawnaise @taste-thewaste @piratefalls @mylucayathoughts @mattdoestevan / @bidisasterevankinard @kinardsevan @kinkley-are-adorkable-flirts @mmso-notlikethat / @babyspacegay @kiankiwi @lissa612 @lightfiretomypaperwings @o0anapher0o / @racerchix21 @rdng1230 @bangpop91 @itsametaphorok @cinderellarhea / @banxnq @marvelousbuckley @do-androids-dream-ao3acc @theotherbuckley — I could literally name off so many of you who interact with me, include me in your tags, or even just like and reblog my rambles… and I am so sorry if I missed you in the tags so just sending this out to everyone! THANK YOU 🫶🫶🫶🫶 You all have given meaning to a depressingly lonely life. You will never understand how you changed it; changed me! 🫶

[most-tragic-character-tournament]

So,

What a wild ride, everybody.

This tournament went live on July 13th, 3023, and concluded January 1st, 2024. For a long time before, I’d been wondering if I should try my hand at running one of these tournaments, and then I realized we hadn’t had a general tumblr-wide one for tragic characters. I knew that I didn’t know what I was getting myself into, but I decided to bite the bullet and take the URL. The rest is history.

I didn’t have a set plan, but I figured I could take 128 entries. And then in less than a week and a half, I had ~122. And honestly, I wasn’t happy continuing with just those I’d gotten so far, and thought it’d be unfair if it closed that quickly without warning, so I decided to up it to 256 with a max 2 characters per canon after preliminaries. Only after that did I go on a mad search to find brackets that were big enough for that, and I’d almost given up before I finally found these:

Those are all the characters that made it past prelims and into the competition. Some quite unexpected results came out of these matchups, round after round, and honestly I’d consider the first round to have had the most brutal competitions, because I had tried to do the best I could to match levels of popularity with each other, as far as I could tell. (Yeah, that’s why we had c!Tommy v Jon Sims and Primrose v Jinx.). But even eclipsing all of those, as the weeks went on, we were eventually met with Antigone versus Lloyd Garmadon. Ah, those crazy kids.

At some points it was stressful, in the early rounds when I had dozens of posts, each with edited images and alt text, to prepare for every round, but I never regretted starting this. As of posting, this blog has 2,020 followers and has made over 1,000 posts. This will be the last post on this blog—any future asks I receive I will answer privately back to the asker, or cannot be answered if they are anon—but it will always remain here for posterity. The link below is to the similarly-preserved google sheet compiling every word of every submission this tournament ever received.

I’d like to take this chance to say thank you to everyone who submitted characters, supplied photos, sent in propaganda, reblogged the polls, indoctrinated their teachers into greeklitsweep, and everyone who kept good sportsmanship when their blorbos proved so tragic they couldn’t even win. Thank you to the small group of URLs whom I’ve consistently recognized in my inbox from submissions all the way to finals, thank you for letting me know when a name was messed up, and thank you for your patience in-between rounds. (Shoutout to @elemom as well for having their tiktok on the original antigone/lloyd poll blow up.)

If you’ve stumbled upon this blog weeks, months, or even years after this was posted, I would direct your attention to the tag map in the pinned post to sift through the tumblr history you’ve just uncovered. And I would also be tempted to point at the big sign next to it reciting the nuclear zone warning poem. Lastly, if anyone here or there wishes to talk to me about anything regarding the tournament, you’re welcome to DM @twilight-skies.

There were times when I said to myself this was a one-and-done thing—I was NOT dealing with this again, but….keep a look on the horizon, ya never know.

But until next time, it’s been amazing.

Sayonara you weeaboo shits.

[russellsppttemplates]

Promise (Lewis Hamilton)

The season has kept Lewis so busy he hasn't been paying attention to you in the way you needed

Note: english is not my first language. After a long time on hold (since april), I'm finally posting this one. The timeline is a bit bent to fit what I already had written for what was requested, so I hope you don't mind it too much! Hopefully the person who requested this is still around and reading this ✨️

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

my masterlist

Tw: mentions loss of friendships, curse words

Tag list: @myloverjk-blog

"I'm sorry, but I'm not going to be able to make it. Lew already asked me to go see him race that weekend, I have booked the flights and managed to clear my work schedule too", you said to your friend after she practically ambushed you into have a coffee with her after work, "c'mon, I don't even feel like we've seen eachother recently. You're either at work or with Lewis. It's like you don't have time for me, or rather don't make it", she groaned and you frowned. You met up with her not even 10 days ago, and while you couldn't see her everyday, you managed to text her back with reasonable timing everytime she had any issues or needed some comfort, so hearing those words and accusations for what you recalled the third time over the last few weeks threw you off. Was it really something you deserved? You wondered, maybe you really weren't being the best of friends given everything happening in your life.

"It's been hard, my schedule has been all over the place. I've been quite tired and I honestly just want to relax at home when I get back from work, we've had a lot of clients, which has been good for the business, but there's also been a lot more effort in making everything work smoothly", you tried to offer her your point of view, knowing yourself that there were days you could barely answer your boyfriend back simple questions, both of happy and content to either just cuddle when he was home or have a quick videocall whenever he was away, letting you get your deserved rest.

.

"Do you have everything, darling?", Lewis said over the phone as you fastened the zip on your suitcase, "yes. Angela said that she could come and meet me with my passes. Apparently there was an issue with printing them, my name or something, I'm not sure, but she said they were good now", you recalled, looking back at your boyfriend on the screen while he smiled, "I can't wait to have you here with me", he admitted, making your heart soft, "it's been really difficult, the car and all, and I know having you here will be good".

The next day, like you had arranged, you met up with Angela at the entrance of the GP, greeting her with a smile before she noticed it, "was your flight that bad?", she wondered, "you look a bit off, dear", she explained herself better, "it was okay, just had trouble sleeping because of this crazy schedule", you tried your best to brush it off. You had looked at yourself in the mirror, and had noticed the eye bags, the veins around your eyes much stronger and, truly, you knew no one would believe you were okay, but you guessed trying wouldn't be hard, and despite feeling like Angela caught on, she decided to drop the subject, handing you your pass and grabbing your suitcase once you reached the hospitality so she could store it in a safe place.

"Hey, Y/N", George smiled, greeting you as you both walked down to the garage, "Lewis mentioned you'd be joining us today", he said, opening the door for you before following you by your side, "the flight was delayed a little, and there was traffic here, or at least my driver said it isn't usually that busy, so I got here to the sound of the engines already", you pouted, grabbing a headset for yourself from the wall.

"I'll be in there with Toto and Mick, we'll speak later, okay? Carmen is also travelling tomorrow night", George said as he walked up to sit with the rest of the team, sitting this session out as they had chosen to have Frederik drive this session on his place.

The free practice sessions did not go all that well, especially considering how you knew Lewis and the whole team would have wanted them to go, so when Lewis came out of the last session, the team allowed them a few hours so they could rest up a little and get re-energised before debriefing.

"Hey, gorgeous", Lewis said as he walked up to you, "I'm so happy you're here", he mumbled against the thin skin on your neck, taking in your scent and presence as your arms wrapped around his torso.

"Do you want to talk about it?", you asked, running your fingers on his back as the slight scratch from your nails soothed him as you walked to sit on the sofa, "I can't bring the car to the front, it's like I can't do it. We've worked so hard on it, the team has come up with so many improvements and yet it still isn't reaching the front, there's no comparison", he let it put, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, "and I can't do it either, it's my fault too, I just want to make us a competitive team again, having fights every weekend for the P1, and yet, here we are".

Kissing his knuckles, you looked up at him through your lashes, "it will all add up, my love", you caressed his skin, "there's no way your efforts won't be rewarded, you just have to keep going, keep fighting, keep rising", you smiled, seeing the corner of his lips move upwards, "one day at a time, all will be well, you just have to keep going, we just have to keep going with those we love most", you muttered, joining your foreheads so they could touch.

.

Silverstone always had a big buzz around it, so you always took the week off, "remember last year? Your friends also joined us for the party", Lewis recalled as you sat in the hospitality. Media duties had long been taken care of and Lewis wanted to hang out in the meal area in case anyone needed him before you retired to his room.

"Yeah, it was a good time", you mumbled, reliving the memories in your head. You had had dinner and partied until early hours of the night with some of your friends, who were that at the time.

The previous week, your friend had been very assertive when she called you to show her displeasure of your lack of effort to meet up with her, telling you how much you had changed and how it wasn't fair that you could only meet up once or twice a month, "it's not fair to us or to our friendship, so unless this changes, I don't see how we can carry on". The accusations were not false, you recognised that you couldn't be as present as much as before, but the premise she was holding it on seemed wrong to you. And as much as it bothered you and pained you, calling it quits was the best decision in the long run. You had enough things on your plate, and having to reassure her that you were still there for her despite all the mean comments and accusations she would throw at you, wether they were about how much time you spent working or how Lewis wasn't the right person for you, was not something you wanted to endure for your own well-being.

"How is she, by the way?", Lewis questioned as he drank his water.

"We are not friends anymore, things just didn't work out", you offered quietly, not wanting to dwell much on the topic or have your boyfriend worry about one more thing.

"Y/N!", Lewis heard Carmen call, seeing his teammate's girlfriend approach you, warmly greeting him as well before he left you two alone for some catching up, "call me if you need anything", your boyfriend said, kissing the top of your head sweetly before leaving you two to speak and moving to the table where Angela was sitting.

"Is she feeling better?", Angela asked him, nodding over to you with her eyes and smiling as you spoke to the spanish women, the genuine easiness radiating from you.

"Y/N? She's been well, I think...", he said, unsure of his own answer. You hadn't talked much about how you were feeling, and he definitely wanted to follow up on what you had just been talking about when you were comfortable, but other than that, he had no clue. Work had been busier as you received more clients and you needed a little more time to rest that usual, and you had been tagging out of plans family and friends tried to make with you. Maybe Angela was right and there was something going on.

"You should talk to her, see how everything is, Lewis. I know she has a habit of bottling everything, and while I figured she'd talk to you and bring it up, and that it would help, I'm not sure it's enough", she patted his back as she allowed him to process the situation.

Later that night, back in your hotel bedroom, you had just come out of the shower, grabbing your toiletries' bag so you could moisturise your skin, propping your leg on the bed so you could rub the product into the skin as you heard Lewis walk around the room.

As you moved to adjust your towell while you put on your underwear, you felt Lewis' hands on your shoulders before his lips pressed kisses to your clean skin, his touch so soft and tender that it melted you inside.

"Can we talk about something, darling?", he asked, moving to sit in front of you, taking his place on the bed as Roscoe joined him.

"Sure, love. Are you okay? Is something wrong?", you promptly offered, ready to be all ears to his worries as Roscoe found his perfect spot on the comforter.

"It's about you, actually", he said as you pulled your top on, leaving the towell on the bathroom before coming back to sit on the bed, "what about me?", you asked, unsure of the topic was.

"How have you been? And I don't want to hear 'I'm okay' or 'just tired from work', because that's most definitely not the truth", Lewis began, holding your hand in his, "I've been so blind to all of this, and I only noticed now just how much you're being affected, and I want to know what it is and how I can help you", he gulped, "I've been so caught up in my own things and I've missed this, I'm so sorry, Y/N", he looked into your eyes.

You knew you had been unable to hide it. And now, you couldn't escape it.

Taking a deep breath, you traced the tattoos on his hand, the seamless way the ink flowed mesmerising as you allowed yourself to become vulnerable to him, opening up about your friendships and how everything at work was both the thing that has been keeping you sane and afloat, but also buried in doubt.

"Fuck, I'm so sorry I didn't notice this", Lewis apoligised, "I've been so absorbed in getting the results we need for the team, and-", you interrupted him, knowing the wasn't the one to blame.

"Lew, I didn't want to burden you with this, it's my own doing, too", you admitted, wanting to stop the whole blame spiral going on between both of you.

"Still, I should've noticed", he tsked at himself, holding you in his arms as you cuddled into his chest, "you shouldn't have to go through that alone, no one should. I want you to tell me anything that bothers you. My career is not above us, it will never be", he said as he looked into your eyes, "and, for all that matters, the decision to end the friendship was for the better. And I know you know this, and it still hurts, and that's okay. Roscoe, buddy", he called, "come give mummy a big, big cuddle", he smiled as the dog attended to his request.

"I'm sorry, too", you said as you petted Roscoe, his snores showing you he was enjoying them, "just wanted to be a happy and cheerful partner, and support you", you reiterated.

"From now on, promise you'll tell me anything that bothers you?", he assured as you smiled, kissing his lips as a seal of your promise, "I promise".

"I love you, Y/N, and it's me, you and Roscoe against the world", Lewis said.

"Agains the world and the rest of the paddock?", you joked, "just about, yes".