#will potentially reblog with tags if i remember no promises

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Naughty

Warnings: non/dubcon, degreding language, sex work, choking, and other dark elements. Not all kinks or triggers are tagged. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Summary: You take a job on Christmas Eve but you're not worth if it's worth the money.

Character: Rafe Cameron

Day Fifteen of the December Daze Challenge.

Prompt - working on Christmas Eve 

Note: As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

“Yes, I’ll be there,” you promise as you stare at the numbers above the door, lighting up one at a time. “I’m not the one who’s always late, Maura.” 

“Sure, try to bring a bottle with you this time. Or something, at least.” Your sister chides. 

“Mm, can’t wait to see you tomorrow. See ya,” the elevator stops and you roll your eyes. “Muah.” 

You stopped arguing with your sister in your teens. She does an awfully lot of talking for someone who doesn’t shut up. If she paid attention to anything besides herself, she’d remember you brough a full charcuterie to last year’s affair. Surely, she must remember eating all the aged gouda. 

The years pass but so much stays the same. You get off the elevator and head down the hallway. You check the room number on your phone as you enable to the tracking app. You can never be too safe. So long as you’ve been doing this work, you’ve never settled into complacency. 

You stop in front of the door and put your cell away. You take out your pocket mirror and do a once over. The last time you worked Christmas Eve was back when your job was standing behind a counter and smiling as shoppers screamed about discounts. No more. Your work isn’t glamourous, but it pays well. 

You slip the mirror back in your purse and unbutton your coat. You push your shoulders back and shrug off the chagrin of the conversation with your sister. You raise your hand and knock. An hour or two and you’ll make back much more than you paid for your Christmas gifts. 

You can hear movement from the other side of the door. You wait patiently. Concern blooms the longer the occupant takes to get there. When the door does open, you’re almost caught off guard. Not just by the suddenness of it, but by the man looking out at you. 

It’s not that you’ve never had younger clients before, but you aren’t typically their choice. You charge a rate which is highly selective on its own and most men opt for a younger flavour. Still, you have your niche. Men who want to be discreet. 

This one is anything but. Early twenties by your measure, shaved head, a scrape across his cheekbone, and glassy blue eyes. There’s no pretense as he greets you in a loosely tied robe, his chest peeking out between the slack fabric. 

He’s tall, a bit lanky at first sight, but his shoulders are broad enough. It’s the leanness that comes with the grace of youth. Give him twenty years, he’ll fill out, probably more so if he can afford your fee. 

You wait politely for an invitation inside. 

“Mm,” he grumbles and slinks away, leaving the door open. Right, he’s not a talker. Most times, that’s easier. 

You step into the room and gently close the door. The expectation is there. You always have detailed discussions prior, and you’re sure to get half your rate upfront. 

You set your purse on the console table near the door and slip off your jacket. The older men, the more established ones who like to play gentleman, will help you and hang it up. Some will even help you out of your shoes, others like you to keep them on. You do it all yourself. 

It’s not often you feel like an intruder. It doesn’t feel like he’s expecting you. The bed is a mess, the TV is blaring, and he’s made no effort to hide the pill bottles across the table. You’re wary as you scan them over for syringes. That would be a red flag. The least he could do is put out a bottle of wine. 

“We had an agreement.” 

“Yeah, shit,” he scratches his head and goes to the table, swiping up a folded paper. “One clinic open today. Out of town. They thought I was tryna get methadone.” 

It’s a good sign that you can understand him. His voice is low and droning but not incomprehensible. You take the paper and look it over. Negative, negative, negative. You go back to the door and flip open your purse. You look up the clinic and the doctor’s name. 

“I’m fucking clean,” he snarls. “Sure are judgmental considering.” 

“Cautious. For your good as much as mine,” you fold up the paper, content. “Condoms?” 

He pushes his head back towards the bed without a look in your direction. You see the wrappers on the night stand; the ones you get from the quarter machines in the hotel restrooms. Wow, big spender. If he hadn’t put your special holiday rate directly into your account, you’d be out. 

“Well, honey, what do you wanna do first?” You soften your tone. 

“You’re old enough. You know how it works.” 

You chuckle lightly, “sure do, honey.” 

“Fucking stop with the honey.” 

“Right,” you accept breezily. 

“I mean, how fucking old are you?” He turns to face you. “Put as much makeup on as you want, you gotta be what? Forty? Shouldn’t you be with your kids?” 

“Why would I have kids? So they can grow up to be snotty brats like you?” You retort. 

“Fucking charming seeing how much I’m paying.” 

“We’re not here to get to know each other, are we?” 

“There’s dozens of younger girls on OF. I could have any one of them for half the price,” he growls. 

“So why don’t you?” 

“Now who’s nosy?” He scoffs as he goes to the mini fridge and swings the door open. He takes out a mini bottle of Tito’s vodka. He cracks the plastic ring and drains it in a gulp. 

You go to the bed and pull the blankets straight. He snorts and whips the bottle onto the floor. He comes up behind you and you tense, waiting for him to shove you down. You get the sense that he’s that type. 

“Why ya doing that?” He breathes down your neck. 

“I--” 

“I didn’t pay you all that to lay on your fucking back, you can fucking work for it,” he fists your hair and wrenches you back. You hiss and try to turn to him. 

“That’s extra,” you snip. 

“Shut the fuck up,” he drags you away from the bed. 

You put your hand on his as your roots tug. He brings you across the room and pushes you up against the sliding glass doors that look out onto the balcony. You hold back a gasp as the high-rise view of the city makes you dizzy. 

He kicks your feet apart as his fingertips dance up the side of your dress. He feels around your hip and finds the slit cut up to your thigh. You stare out at the blurring lights and lean back into his grasp to ease the pressure on your scalp. 

His hand dips under the satin and he pushes a thick fingertip along your slit, pushing between your lips. He crowds you against the glass as your breath fogs your vision. Your can barely keep your nose from touching the door. 

“You old fucking bitches think you got it all figured out,” he sneers as he urges his finger further back, curling it roughly against you. “You’re all just the same, though. You’re just mad your tits are falling.” 

You grimace but don’t talk back. You have a feeling how this is going to go. You have your limits and if he pushes them, you’ll make him stop.  

He continues to rub you, without much results. You grit your teeth and bear it. None of your clients are especially skilled or even concerned with more than their own pleasure, but most of the time, you can guide them to a tolerable experience. 

He leans in and his hot, alcoholic breath seeps around you. He pushes his nose against your shoulder as he wiggles his fingers aimlessly. You put a hand on the glass to keep yourself steady. He growls and teases your skin, just beside the slender strap of your dress, with his teeth. 

“Fuck,” he rips his hand away from your cunt, scratching your thigh. “Don’t you fucking do this for a living?” 

“Tell me what you want,” you counter. 

“Fucking fuck. I want you to fucking scream,” he lets you go with a jerk of your head. You barely keep from hitting the glass. “Get the dress off.” 

He backs up and you do as he says. You drag the straps down your shoulders and shimmy out of the sheath. It pools around your feet and you kick it away. As he specified, no underwear, no bra. You turn as he grabs a condom from the table. 

“The fuck you looking at, turn around.” 

You spin back to face the city. The wrapper crinkles as he approaches you again. He groans as he gets close. He grabs the back of your neck and you let out a noise as he forces your face into the door. You turn your head so the cool glass flattens your cheek. 

He snakes his arm around you and stretches his hand across your pelvis. He hooks two fingers along your cunt and spreads you. You arch your back as his tip pokes at you, catching on your ass but far from its target. You reach back to help him and guide him down to your entrance. 

He snarls again and pinches your neck until your skull throbs. He squeezes his tip between his knuckles as he frames your cunt and bucks his hips. He brings you to your toes as he rams into you. You hold your breath as your walls clench around his intrusion. 

“Huh,” he thrusts again, breaking through the resistance, “you’re fucking tight.” He pushes into you and wiggles his hips as you squirm. His nails cut into your flesh as his other hand retreats to your clit. He rubs around your bud, missing it by inches. “Who’d fucking think...” 

He slides out and ruts back in harshly. You slap your hands on the glass as your tits are smushed against it. He puffs against your hair as he pumps into you, each time harder than the last. You brace the doors as you bend your legs slightly to keep them from collapsing. 

“God fucking damnit.” He slips his hand around your neck before you can react. His long fingers squeeze your throat and you hiss. You try to peel his grasp away. No chocking, one of your rules. “Is this what you do when your kids are decorating the tree at home?” 

“Let--go,” you rasp as you claw at his hand. 

He groans and slams into you harder, the sound of your flesh reverberating loudly as the force radiates through your hips. You try to push back into him and he rips his hand away from your pelvis. He puts it against the back of your skull, adding pressure to your neck as you gulp for air. Your forehead hits the thick glass as he pounds into you. 

“I fucking paid you,” he growls, “so fucking take it.” 

You gurgle, unable to get much through your whittled throat. You cough and wriggle helplessly. He drones around the rhythm of clapping flesh. 

“Fucking bitch! You fucking slut,” he snarls as pushes your head against the glass, only to lean back and hold you at arms’ length. Each tilt of his hips is filled with malice. “God, you’re fucking dirty, aren’t you, whore? Too fucking old to be taking this cock. Fuck, fuck, fuck.” 

You reach back as your head swells. You feel around blindly with your nails and catch the edge of his robe. He grunts and jerks you violently, burying himself deep as he stills. He snickers and peels his hand away from your skull. He loops his arm around your neck as his other hand hooks under to grope your chest. 

He chokes you with his bicep as he hauls you away from the door. He turns you and walks you awkwardly across the room, his dick splitting your insides. He crushes you over the corner of the bed as he falls onto you. Your legs dangle off, toes on the floor, as he pushes your knees wide with his. 

He squeezes his arm tighter around your throat as he once more falls into a frantic motion. He huffs and puffs, grunting and growling, as he digs his nails into the soft flesh of your chest. He bows down to chew on the brim of your ear as a deep snarl plumes from his nose. 

He laughs again as you choke and cough above his thick arm, “oh, it won’t be over soon, slut. I took a fucking viagra for this.” 

[scoonsalicious]

10.4 Major

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Summary: Lily McIntyre, trainer for new SHIELD recruits at the Avengers Tower, has been in love with her best friend, Bucky Barnes, from the moment she met him. She's been content with her role of the #1 girl in Bucky's life, even if it means she has to sabotage a romantic relationship or two. It'll be worth it when he realizes that they're meant for each other, right? There's just one small problem: Lily McIntire never expected Bucky Barnes to fall for You.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, alcohol consumption, drunkenness, brief mentions of sexual situations.

Word Count: 3.6k

Previously On...: Bucky ran to Lily for comfort after running out on you. Despite her best efforts, Bucky realized he done fucked up, A-aron.

A/N: Sorry for the delay. Everything but this and all of you is shit right now, lol.

If you ever feel so inclined to support my work, hop on over to buy me a coffee; it's much appreciated! <3

NOTE! The tag list is a fickle bitch, so I'm not really going to be dealing with it anymore. If you want to be notified when new story parts drop, please follow @scoonsaliciousupdates

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!

After Bucky had stormed out of The WarZone that evening, you had tried to call him. Dozens of times. At first, he’d declined the calls, but soon, they went straight to voicemail, and you knew he had turned off his phone. Either that, or he’d blocked you. 

You knew he would be upset when he saw the contents of that envelope, but for him to make those accusations of you, and then to run away without even giving you an opportunity to speak or explain yourself? To say you were pissed off would be an understatement. So, you did the one thing that came to your mind as a way of dealing with the pain and frustration you were feeling: you went home and drank.

You’d been obsessively staring at her phone screen as you put back glass after glass of wine, willing Bucky to call you and apologize, to text asking for your side of the story, for anything, really, but after hours of his silence, you finally had enough and composed a single message to him:

>> When you’re done with your temper tantrum and want to talk like a grown up, you know where to find me.

Probably not the most mature thing you could have done, but you had been drinking, after all. Besides, it’s not like it had mattered; he’d never answered, anyway. You’d probably never hear from him again. That thought, amplified by the alcohol, had sent you down a dark tunnel of tears and ugly sobs. You honestly couldn’t remember ever crying this much over a man– not even when you’d found out about Connor’s affair, and you’d been married for nearly a decade; no, that had felt more like a relief, like finally having an answer to a question that had been stumping you for ages. But now, here you were, a blubbering mess over a man you hadn’t even known for a full week. 

You weren’t sure what hurt the most about it: the fact that he thought you went looking for that information, the words he’d said to you, or the way he ran out without even hearing your side of things. You didn’t even have the bandwidth to consider the betrayal of him going through your private papers.

There had just been so much potential with Bucky. So much promise. It could have been something beautiful and amazing, and now, it was over before it had even had a chance to really begin. And that just made you sad. Sad, and lonely. Maybe you’d finally get yourself a cat. Yeah, that seemed like a good idea. Perhaps it was finally time to embrace your destiny as a spinster cat lady, just like your mother had always threatened since your divorce. Why fight the inevitable?

A soft knock at your door took you out of your depression spiral. You quickly glanced at your clock– 10:45 pm. Far too late for a social call. Most likely, your nextdoor neighbor, Jeremy, had locked himself out of his apartment and wanted to hang out at yours until maintenance came by with the master key, again. 

Wiping the tears from your eyes, you made a move to stand, but the alcohol sent a wave of dizziness through your system and you almost fell stumbling back down to the couch. This time, you moved more slowly, holding on to furniture for support as you shuffled toward the front door. When you made it about half way, you heard a voice from the hallway that definitely did not belong to Jeremy. You froze.

“Sugar? Are you there? Will you open up, please?” 

Shit. What the fuck was Bucky doing here? You couldn’t possibly talk to him right now– your face was an absolute mess from crying and you were still so drunk. And what if he was still angry? 

You considered your next course of action. Opening the door was a no go– any conversation could only end in disaster. For the same reason, you couldn’t try to talk to him through the door. Knowing the effect he had on you, it would probably only be a few minutes before you were letting him in, begging him to fuck you. No, the best thing to do would be to retreat to your bedroom and hide until he went away. Maybe he would just assume you weren’t home.

Yes, that was the way to do it. To your wine-soaked brain, this seemed entirely logical.  You turned to head back into your bedroom, but you missed-stepped and banged your shin into one of your end tables.

“Fuck,” you hissed in pain, trying to keep your voice down as you rubbed what would no doubt become a spectacular bruise.

“Doll?” Bucky called from the hallway. “I know you’re in there. I just heard you. Please let me in. I just want to talk to you.”

Damn it. 

Without another thought, you hightailed it back into your bedroom, throwing yourself under the covers. Just hearing the sound of his voice through the door brought back the memory of his tirade from earlier in the day, and the words he’d spoken to you:

“You wanna know how many people I killed that didn’t make it into those files, because I promise you, sugar, there’s a hell of a lot. You want to know about the time Hydra sent me to kill an ambassador, told me to leave no witnesses, and I took out his wife and his two kids, too? ‘Cause they couldn’t have been more than ten years old. That kind of thing get you off, doll?”

The rage in his voice had been palpable, and if you were being honest, it had scared you. Not the rage, itself. You knew he was capable of it. No, what had frightened you was how quickly he had turned that rage on to you.

The thought brought a fresh wave of tears, and before you knew it, you were crying yourself into a fitful, restless slumber.

*

There was an incessant pounding coming from the living room that echoed the pounding in your skull. Moaning, you rolled over and picked up your phone to glance at the time. 1:47am. The pounding persisted, and it took your now hungover brain a moment to realize someone was knocking on your front door. 

With a groan, you shoved your head under your pillow, hoping whoever was there would go the fuck away and leave you to die in peace. 

“Ms. (Y/L/N), it’s the NYPD; please open your door.” Well. That got your attention. Sitting bolt upright, you jumped out of bed and nearly tripped trying to get to the door in a hurry. 

You checked the peep hole, making sure it actually was one of New York’s finest, and opened the door. 

“Can I help you, officer?” you asked, leaning against the door frame.

The officer gave you the once over and smirked, and it was then you remembered you’d chosen a pair of boyshort panties and an off-the shoulder cropped Army t-shirt for your pajamas that night. With a scowl, you crossed your arms over  your chest. 

“Are you “(Y/N) (Y/L/N)?” the officer asked, obviously amused by your discomfort. 

“I am,” you nodded. “What is this about?”

“Do you know this man?” the officer stepped aside, revealing Bucky, who was standing sheepishly off to the side of the door where you hadn’t been able to see him at first.

“Hey, doll,” he said with a shameful half smile and small wave.

“One of your neighbors found him sleeping against your door and called us. He claims he’s your boyfriend and he was just waiting for you to let him in. Since he’s an Avenger, I figured I’d give him a chance to prove his story before I booked him for trespassing.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose. You were far too hungover to be dealing with this right now. “He’s not my boyfriend,” you clarified, and you didn’t miss Bucky’s face falling at your words. “But we are dating.” You stood back from the doorframe, making some space. “Come inside,” you told him with an exasperated sigh.

Bucky gave the officer an “I told you so” smirk and shoulder checked him before going inside your condo. You rolled your eyes at the childish display of machismo. You thanked the officer and moved to close the door, but he put a hand out, preventing you from closing it.

“Are you going to be safe if I leave you alone with him?” he asked you in a low voice, all trace of his earlier smirk gone. “Do you have any reason to fear for your life?”

You couldn’t help it– you snorted in laughter. “God, no,” you said. Yes, Bucky’s anger had frightened you, but you couldn’t believe he would ever go so far as to actually hurt you. He just wasn’t that kind of man, right? “I promise you, officer, I’m perfectly safe with Mr. Barnes. I mean, he’s an Avenger.”

The officer nodded. “Just making sure, miss. My partner and I will stay in the area; if there’s any trouble, call 911 and we’ll be nearby.” You thanked him for his concern, but assured him it wouldn’t be needed. He tipped his cap to you and headed for the elevator. 

You closed the door and leaned against it with a sigh. You needed to get some liquid in you. Immediately. 

Without sparing a glance at Bucky, who was standing by your coffee table, studiously avoiding looking at you,  you made your way into the kitchen to pour yourself a glass of water.

“Boyfriend, huh?” you said eventually, keeping your back to him as you ran the glass under your refrigerator’s water dispenser.

“Yeah… I wasn’t sure what to say to him to get him to let me stay,” he said, and his voice was closer now; you could tell he’d followed you to the kitchen.

“What are you doing here, Bucky?” you asked. You took a couple of sips from your glass before finally turning to face him. He looked… rough. His hair was disheveled, his clothes were wrinkled, and his eyes were red-rimmed, as though he, too, had spent some of the last several hours crying. 

Bucky swallowed thickly. “I came to apologize if you’ll let me,” he said, looking intently at your face. “Shit, sugar– have you been crying? Did I– fuck– I made you cry, didn’t I? I’m so sorry, doll.”

You let out a short bark of a laugh. Part of you wanted to throw your arms around him, bury your face into his shoulder, and never let him go, but what he had said to you earlier in the day was… well, it was horrendous and uncalled for, and you couldn’t, out of respect for yourself, just let it slide without some kind of explanation, and some real groveling.

“Explain yourself,” you said shortly, crossing your arms over your chest once again, as though putting a physical barrier between the two of you. 

Bucky swallowed and moved back toward your living room and began to pace. You followed, keeping a decent amount of distance between the two of you.

“I freaked out when I saw what was in that envelope,” he said. “As you no doubt know by now, I did a lot of shit, back when Hydra had me, that I’m not proud of. I’m… well, I guess you could say ‘sensitive about it’ would be an understatement. I carry a lot of guilt for what they made me do, and a lot of shame. Ever since I…” he paused, mulling over his word choice, “came back to myself, for good, I’ve been trying to make amends for all the harm I caused. To make things right. I know I can never erase all the pain I inflicted, bring back the people I killed, but I try to… to make things better. Where I can.”

He slumped down into one of your armchairs, a look of defeat crossing his handsome features. “It’s never going to be enough,” he sighed. “I know that. There are always going to be people who look at me, and only see the Soldier. No matter what I do, how much I atone, or how many lives I save, they’ll never see Bucky Barnes.”

“I told you from the beginning, Bucky,” you said, leaning against the wall that divided the living room from the kitchen, “it was obvious to me that you were blameless. A victim. And so, for you to accuse me of getting off on—”

“I know, sugar,” Bucky interrupted. He was looking up at you with sorrowful eyes. “I never should have accused you of that; I was an ass. I was…” he averted his eyes, embarrassed to admit this next part to you. “I was afraid.”

“Afraid.” You rolled the word around on your tongue. “Bucky, you’re a super soldier. A fucking Avenger. What the hell do you have to be afraid of?”

“I was afraid that if you saw the real me, what I had done, you’d run screaming in the other direction,” he admitted without looking back at you. “Or, that the only reason a dame like you could be interested in a guy like me was because you were attracted to the darkness. To the monster. That it wasn’t actually me you were into, but the Soldier.” He finally looked up at you in time to see the puzzled look you gave him.

“It happened before,” he said, voice low and shamed. “There was this girl– her name was Jessica– and I thought I was in love with her, you know? Thought maybe I’d finally found my person. Was gonna ask her to move in with me but, turns out she just had a thing for the Soldier. She got off on the violence of it.” He looked down at his vibranium hand, flexing and unflexing his fist. “The old one did so much damage. They had me use it to hurt so many innocent people, and then I found out she searched for Winter Soldier choke porn on my computer. This thing that had caused so much pain, brought me nightmares, that woke me up screaming at night, and it was her fucking kink.” 

He looked back up at you, eyes desperate and pleading. “I couldn’t stand to go through something like that again. Not with you, Major. Especially not with you. So, I panicked, and I was an ass, and I hurt you before you could explain, because I didn’t want to give you a chance to hurt me.”

You sighed and moved away from the wall. He was weakening your resolve to be pissed at him by the second. In fact, your heart was breaking for him. 

“And now I’ve ruined things between us,” he said, “before they even really had a chance to begin.” He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “I just wanted to tell you how sorry I am, and I understand if you don’t want to forgive me. I was awful. I just… I just want you to know that I’ll always look back on the time we spent together as some of the best days of my life.” He made a move to stand up, but you took a step toward him.

“Oh my god, sit down, you idiot.” You walked closer, putting both your hands on his shoulders and slowly moving down to straddle his lap, his hands slipping almost subconsciously to your waist. “I don’t know if this is going to come back to bite me in the ass or not, but I forgive you.” You draped your arms around his neck and softly kissed the corner of his mouth. “Were you dumb? Yes. Did you overreact and behave like a child? Yes.” He narrowed his eyes at you, but you just playfully wrinkled your nose at him. 

“But are your concerns understandable, after everything you’ve been through? Also, yes.” You began to toy with the short hairs at the nape of his neck. “Next time you find yourself feeling like that, or questioning my motives, please promise me that you’ll talk to me instead of yelling at me and icing me out, okay?”

“Yeah,” Bucky said, nodding profusely, “I can do that. I promise.”

“Good. Now, I feel this goes without saying, but I want to make sure we’re both on the same page, here,” you said to him. “ I did not seek out those documents. Someone sent them to me, anonymously. I didn’t tell you about them when I got them because I didn’t want to offend you or remind you of a past I know you don’t enjoy reminiscing about. I meant it when I said that I only want you to tell me if and when you’re ready, so I hadn’t done more than peruse the documents to get an idea of what they were and see if there were any hints as to where they came from. The only clue I have to the sender’s identity is a note where they wrote “Do you know who you’re fucking?” in black marker, but the letters are all blocky, so it’s not even like I can compare handwriting samples or something.”

Bucky’s mouth dropped open in surprise. “Oh, shit. Sugar, I’m so sorry. If someone is targeting you because of me…”

You blew out a raspberry and waved your hand dismissively. “I’m a big girl,” you told him. “I can take care of myself. I have a ton of guns and awards for marksmanship, so don’t worry about me.”

A corner of Bucky’s mouth tugged up. “That’s actually really hot,” he admitted. “Remind me to take you on a date to the shooting range sometime.”

You tried to bite back your grin, but failed miserably. “Cheeky of you to assume there’ll be more dates,” you teased him.

Bucky tightened his grip around your waist. “Are you saying there won’t be?” He looked genuinely concerned, and you didn’t want to tease him.

“That’s gonna depend on you, Bucky,” you told him. “I’m not Jessica, and I’m not going stand by and let you punish me for the ways she mistreated you. I can tell you right now: if you ever talk to me again the way you talked to me in my office, it will be the last time you ever talk to me, at all, do you understand?”

Bucky nodded. “I don’t want to lose you, Major,” he said, and you could feel the sincerity in every word; and you hoped that he would be true to his word. “I promise to never let my anger get the best of me and speak so disrespectfully to you ever again.”

You nodded, satisfied for now. “Good,” you said, standing up from his lap. “Then we can call it a night.”

Bucky rubbed his hands on his knees and stood up. “Uh, yeah,” he said. “I’ll, uh, just be heading back to the Compound, so…”

You tilted your head. “No. It’s late, Bucky. Come to bed.” You reached out a hand, and Bucky’s entire demeanor changed, his face lighting up with surprised, but cautious delight.

“Really?” he asked, as though he almost expected you to pull your hand away from him and tell him you were just joking. 

You shrugged your shoulders. “I missed you,” you said simply. And it was true– it had only been a few hours, really, since your fight, but you had missed him. You had seriously considered that the two of you might be over for good, and you didn’t want to waste an opportunity to be close to him. 

Bucky reached for your hand, pulling you into him in the process. You let out an ‘oof’ as you collided with his chest, but soon his arms were around you, the fingers of his flesh hand tangling in your hair. 

“I missed you, too,” he said, leaning down to kiss you, and you felt yourself melt into his hold, the rough skin of his calloused right hand dragging along the exposed skin of your hip, the cold metal of the left tracing delicate patterns up and down your side. You could forgive him practically anything when he kissed you like this.

“We should go to sleep,” you said, breathlessly pulling away from his lips, “before we get ourselves worked up into a situation.”

He followed you into your bedroom, and you did your best to not ogle him as he stripped down to his boxer briefs. The second he joined you under the covers, you scooted over to snuggle yourself against him.

“You said we can’t get each other off,” you reminded him as you burrowed your head against his hard chest and rested a hand on his ass. “You didn’t say I couldn’t cop a feel.”

Bucky chuckled, wrapping his arms around you, and you could hear the rumble of it through his skin. “Yeah, that’s definitely a loop hole, sugar,” he said. He kissed the top of your head and rested his cheek against it. Slotting his knee between your thighs, the two of you fit together like perfect puzzle pieces. 

“Goodnight, Bucky,” you said, trying to fight off a yawn.

“Goodnight, doll,” he replied, running his hands up and down your back. “Thank you for giving me a second chance. I promise, you won’t regret it.”

As you drifted off to the sound of his heartbeat, you couldn’t help but hope he was right.

<- Previous Part / Next Part ->

[myownwholewildworld]

wherever you go (a joel miller’s ff) - chapter 4

chapter 3 | series masterlist | main masterlist | chapter 5

pairing: outbreak!2003!joel x f!reader.

a/n: hiya! i already mentioned all of this in my snippet post, but i'll do so again. in this chapter we are going down some dark path. probably not wise considering how shit has been going down as of late in the pedro pascal fandom. i have tried to write this chapter as sensibly as i could given the circumstances reader is in. i know this is a sensitive topic so please, PLEASE, read the warnings before you go ahead. i promise i'll make it up to you guys in the next chapter. other than that, i do appreciate any comments, reblogs and/or likes you may want to leave! i love engaging with you guys. take care of yourselves <3

warnings: MDNI, 18+. please proceed with caution. if any of the following warnings trigger you, skip this chapter. DARK THEME. r4pe threats (it doesn’t happen, but still). death threats. mention of voyeurism. unsolicited dirty talk. slapping. reader is humiliated. derogatory terms (bitch, whore). swear words. masturbation (m to himself). body shaming (well deserved though). blood. violence. gore bc joel loses his shit. murder (but it’s okay because i say so). soft!caring!joel. pet name (dove). reader is female, no other description given. reader is mid-late 20s, joel is 36. no use of y/n.  joel's and reader's pov.

w/c: ~2.3k.

tags (let me know if you want to be added/removed from the list pls!): @yesjazzywazzylove-blog

Joel groaned, face down on the ground. His head hurt like hell, to the point where he could not even open his eyes. A drilling pain on the back of his skull pierced through the whole way to the space between his eyebrows. He squeezed his eyes, in an attempt to clear his sight, before opening them. The whole world spun around him like a merry-go-round ― he felt like throwing up.

He motioned his hand backwards to where the searing pain was coming from, only to find a new source of aching ― his right shoulder felt like it was dislocated, but the reality was that he had been shot.

I have been shot, he repeated in his mind.

Why though? He couldn’t remember what had happened nor where he was.

“Joel! What the fuck is going on?!”, Tommy’s voice forced him to close his eyes again. He kneeled beside Joel, putting pressure on his shoulder. “Where is she?”

Where is who? he wanted to reply.

And then it hit him. You both gave in to your passion, and he ruined it by labelling it “a mistake”. And then hell broke loose ― his last memory was your screams before you were dragged away.

Consciousness flooded back into him. Joel sat up quickly ― too quickly as his head pulsed in excruciating pain.

“Easy, Joel”, said the younger Miller, removing his hand to inspect the wound and tying a piece of clothing around the shoulder to contain the bleeding. “The bullet has gone through cleanly. You’re going to need to take care of that wound but should heal just fine”.

“They’ve taken her, Tommy”, Joel managed to mutter.

Doom washed over him. He felt sick to his stomach at the mere thought of what your destiny might be. He should have paid attention; he should have known you both were being watched. But at that moment in time he was thinking with his cock, not with his brain. He put you in harm’s way. He knew he shouldn’t have exposed you like that. He would not have done it had he known someone was spying on you both.

His last words to you basically meant that you were a mistake he regretted. His heart contracted so hard at the realisation of what he had said, his lungs evacuated all air within them. Where those going to really be his last words to you?

Joel gulped down the knot in his throat. He truly was a damned man. Everyone he touched, died. His deceased wife, Sarah, now potentially you too.

Death might be her best way out, that intrusive thought scared the shit out of him. He shook his head at the idea, in denial.

“Who have?”, Tommy asked. Joel could hear fear in his brother’s voice, mirroring his own.

Joel stood up with the help of Tommy and touched the back of his skull, finding the sore spot. It was wet ― blood covered the palm of his hand, which he cleaned on his jeans.

“I don’t know, but I’m going to find out. If something happens to her, I swear to fucking God, Tommy, I will―”.

Tommy nodded in understanding and handed Joel the rifle and his jacket.

You were finding very hard to come back to consciousness. Your thoughts were a tangled mess, not being able to connect them in a way that made sense. You felt like you had been sleeping for ages, but it had only been five minutes. Your heart was beating slowly on your chest, your breaths shallow.

You heard two male voices nearby. For a second, you thought they were Joel and Tommy. But even in your semi-conscious state, you knew it wasn’t them. You managed to open one eye, looking around. Memories started to crawl back ― you and Joel fucking like the world was ending, him being a prick once again, then the gunshot, Joel falling to the ground, two men approaching and taking you away. Your heart began to race.

Was he alive? He had to be. He couldn’t have died. You would know, you would feel it in your guts. You felt like your chest was being crushed. No, he can’t be.

“God, I am gonna come”, you spotted the first man you saw, the one who shot Joel, jerking off besides you.

Had you been fully conscious, you would have retched when he cleaned the cum off his hand on your T-shirt.

“She was fucking that guy like a whore, she won’t mind if we use her for a bit”, said the second man. “I bet her cunt is still fucking wet. But we should wait for the others to get here first”.

You were slowly coming back to your senses, starting to understand the gravity of your situation. By the way they talked, it was pretty clear what their plans for you were. The prospect of being raped awakened your fight-or-flight instinct, your brain racing with thoughts, trying to come up with an escape plan. Either you fled, or you died trying.

You were sat up, your back against a tree, your hands loosely tied up in front of you. You rubbed one hand against the other, the right one slowly coming off the knot.

“I want to fuck her mouth so bad ― I don’t think that lucky bastard did”, you were not sure who said it, but you didn’t care.

“With such a small dick, I bet you I still would have plenty of room in my mouth to be able to talk unbothered”, you couldn’t stop the snarky remark.

The first man didn’t take your comment very graciously, probably ashamed of such a small dick. He slapped you with such force, the ring on his finger slashed the skin on your right cheek. You fell to the ground on your belly, your hands becoming free in the process, which you hid under your body so that monkey of a man wouldn’t notice.

“We’ll see how much you laugh after we’re finished with you and leave your broken body somewhere for your boyfriend to see”, he threatened with a laugh, touching himself again. "Open up, bitch".

He grabbed you by your hair, forcing you to face him, his ridiculously tiny dick too close to your mouth. You pulled away from him with all your might, releasing yourself from his grasp.

Although you put on a mask and pretended this was not affecting you, you were so fucking frightened. Your survival instinct kicked in again when the same ape tried to snatch you by the T-shirt as you slithered away, partially ripping it. You turned around quickly and scratched his face ― your nails sinking in his skin as deep as you could. You thought you hit his eye ― and you wished him blind. You growled like a cornered animal when the second man approached you, while the first one was on his knees wailing like a newborn baby.

“So you’re a fighter, huh?”, he chuckled.

When he got close, you knocked him off his feet by swinging one of your legs sideways under him. That was your chance ― and you took it. You got up and started running, the second man shouting blasphemies while going after you.

You had only run like five yards when a gunshot echoed in the middle of the night. You ducked and tripped, falling to the ground.

You looked back and saw that guy face down on the dirt, not moving. The back of his head was blown to pieces, half of it had disintegrated into thin air. Blood and brain bits had started to soak the leaves under him.

Then you saw Joel a few feet back, rifle on hand, Tommy just a few metres behind him.

You sighed with relief.

Joel had one look at the state of you and wished he hadn’t shot that man. He should have suffered a more terrible death. He felt anger ―no, fury― burning up his insides. Joel was seeing red, not being able to tame his feelings back under control. Adrenaline was rushing through his veins with solace ―you were alive― but also with rage.

“Man, we’re sorry, I’m sorry, it’s not what it looks like, I had nothing to do with this”, begged the man who had shot him ten minutes earlier.

Joel slowly turned around to face him. The asshole was on his knees, his left eye bleeding profusely, trousers pulled down and his micropenis dangling out of his underwear. With his eyes fixated on the poor excuse of a man praying on the ground, Joel handed the rifle to Tommy and unsheathed the folding hunting knife he kept in his boot.

“No, please, I promise you I didn’t touch her, I would never―”, his pleading fell on deaf ears.

“You fucking liar”, Joel said under his breath, positioning himself behind the kneeled man.

Joel grabbed him by his hair, pulling his head backwards to expose his neck. He could see tears on the edges of his eyes. He was young, probably around twenty, but Joel didn’t give a fuck. He deserved to die. Joel unfolded the hunting knife by removing the safeguard, placed it under his chin and slit his throat slowly but steadily. The man gagged, desperately trying to fill his lungs with oxygen ― his hands had flown to his neck in an attempt to stop the bleeding, but blood was pouring out like a fountain.

Joel looked at him dead in the eye until the man’s arms fell to his sides. When he was sure that motherfucker was dead, he let go of the head, the body making a thudding sound when it hit the floor.

Only then he dared to look in your direction. He wasn’t ready to see you down on your knees, dry tears on your cheeks. You looked like a baby deer in the middle of the road at night, blinded by the headlights. One side of your T-shirt was ripped from top to bottom, one of your breasts showing. You were not moving, your big eyes widened in shock.

Joel did not want to imagine what had happened to you, but he saw semen on your T-shirt and his brain started wandering off to the darkest of places. He was frozen in place for a few seconds before finally approaching you slowly, afraid you were going to step back away from him. He wouldn’t blame you if you did. He put away the knife before kneeling in front of you ― his hands, palms down, up in the air.

“Are you…?”, he didn’t finish the question because it was obvious you were not okay.

“It’s okay”, you answered immediately.

Joel gave you a puzzled look.

“No, it’s not fucking okay”, he whispered.

Then reality dawned on you. Your body had been on high alert this whole time, your instincts forcing you to put your feelings away so you could focus on the task at hand ― escaping as unscathed as possible. It wasn’t until those men were dead and Joel faced you, that you allowed emotions to take over you.

Your eyes welled up, your entire body shaking as the adrenaline abandoned your system.

“I… I don’t… It’s just…”, you couldn’t form coherent sentences.

Joel closed the distance between you two and hugged you. You buried your face in his chest and sobbed silently for minutes on end. His left hand stroked your hair as he held you and whispered calming words in your ear. When your eyes dried up, you looked up at him through damp eyelashes and he swept away the tears from your cheeks with his thumbs, the rest of his fingers gently placed on your jawline.

“Your cheek”, Joel’s lips wrinkled as he hovered his thumb over the wound.

You could tell he was trying to control himself, but as the seconds went on, he got calmer.

“Can I?”, he muttered, looking down to your teared T-shirt.

You nodded and he helped you take it off. Joel blocked Tommy’s vision with his broad body while he removed his jacket and helped you put it on, discarding your dirty T-shirt to one side.

“They didn’t…”, you tried to explain, your bottom lip trembling.

“We don’t need to talk about it now, only when you’re ready ― if you’re ever ready”, he spoke softly.

You greatly appreciated he didn’t push you for an explanation of what had happened. You were not sure you could talk about it without breaking down again. You breathed in deeply and nodded again. Then you noticed the blood on his shoulder. You raised one hand, softly touching the improvised dressing.

“You’re hurt, Joel”, you mumbled.

“It’s nothing, it’s not even painful. Let’s go back to the cave. You need to rest and I need to clean that wound on your cheek before it gets infected”, said Joel while helping you up.

You saw Tommy in the distance ― he had been kind enough to give you some privacy. Joel guided you through the trees, his left arm firmly wrapped around your waist to aid you in your walking.

You didn’t get too far though, not even with his help. Your legs were so wobbly you were afraid you couldn’t stand any longer. Joel saw you struggling and with no hesitation whatsoever, he picked you up in his arms to carry you to the cave.

"You're gonna hurt your shoulder even more, Joel", you complained.

"Nonsense", he whispered, softly kissing your forehead.

You did not protest after that again and hugged his neck, your face hiding in the curve of his neck.

In his arms, you felt safe. Your haven on this twisted, revolting earth.

“One of the men said they were waiting on more people to arrive”, you remembered suddenly.

Joel briefly looked down at you. You could tell he was controlling his face expression.

“Don’t worry about it, dove. I’ll take care of each one of them”.

That was a promise he kept religiously.

[chronically-ghosted]

remember that, uhhhhh, post that announced, i am definitely absolutely without a doubt going to be more of a presence on tumblr??

turns out i'm really bad at announcements.

this year has been one for the books - good and bad. every day i come home switching from work brain to strategic brain and the only time i have to unwind is 20 minutes right before bed where i put a hot pad on my throbbing eyes and lay eagle-spread under the covers.

suffice it to say, there's not really a whole lot of room for creativity left to write the fics i wanna write. and it looks like that might be the case for a while...

so, in the interest of setting expectations (and finally admitting to myself i can't do all the things), i probably won't post any new fics - chapters or oneshots - until next year. This means all of my fics, including Lover, Share Your Road, are on hiatus. but this does not mean i won't finish them ever - i cannot tell you how excited i am to continue LSYR in particular - but i feel like it's only fair to all of you to be honest about a potential release date.

if you wanna unfollow, i totally understand. i will still be reblogging things and signal boosting challenges and sharing the fics i love. there are so many talented people in this fandom and i will do my best to promote them all! my ask box will remain open, so feel free to come yell about me being a lazy lay-about - no hard feelings. i am also more than happy to share my discord with anyone who wants it - again i can't promise i will respond immediately but i will do my very best!

and before anyone asks - this has nothing to do with the recent drama in the fandom. i literally had no idea any of it was going on until this morning when i woke up to so many notifications i thought someone died! nothing more to say on that other than be liberal with your block button, write what you want to write, and surround yourself with people who will protect your peace.

i really, really hate to do this, but i can't keep pretending i can nightblog like i used to. i am very appreciative to be surrounded by lovely people who have made me such a better writer, a better friend, and a better person 🤍 that's all for now, folks!

tagging a few beloveds below:

@perotovar @sp00kymulderr @toomanytookas @futuraa-free @schnarfer @itsokbbygrl @swiftispunk @mothandpidgeon @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @covetyou @joelsgreenflannel @freelancearsonist @ghotifishreads @maggiemayhemnj @sin-djarin @morallyinept @iamskyereads @survivingandenduring @doscharolastras @smokeinherperfume

[brb-on-a-quest]

Tumblr should really let you pin multiple things as a blog introduction. (I wish).

Anyway, hi, hello, (new friend?), I'm Brb/Birb/(real name redacted). I'm an almost graduated student from the general land of cornfields and more cornfields. There's not much around, that's why I'm here, lol. (Also I've met a bunch of cool people, so now I think I'm kind of stuck here - come join us!).

⚔️🐦⚔️🐦⚔️🐦⚔️🐦⚔️🐦⚔️🐦⚔️🐦⚔️🐦⚔️🐦⚔️🐦⚔️🐦

If you happen to be a New Person Who Has Found Me (Hello!) and You Want To Talk to Me, I don't bite, I swear. I am a Birb with the heart of a Golden Labrador Retriever. Feel free to Tag Me in any tag games or haunt my inbox. <3 Come say hi! i love friends.

((Art by the amazing @mayamohini jfkfjjfkjgjgjgjfj it’s gorgeous)

(my "character sheet" that is based on my real life attributes--yes, I did roll all of these numbers. I use canva a totally healthy amount sometimes)

⚔️🐦⚔️🐦⚔️🐦⚔️🐦⚔️🐦⚔️🐦⚔️🐦⚔️🐦⚔️🐦⚔️🐦⚔️🐦

Anyway, more information y'all should know: This is the main account; I do have a sideblog. I reblog a lot of friend's nonsense, post a lot of my own even more nonsense, kind of have a whole "I want to be a hobbit living my best life somewhere not here vibe" I think. You will also see posts about things I think are wholesome/sweet, writing, psychology, fantasy, whatever fandom I'm in (or a friend's fandom),....just general nonsense I suppose. I do post some amount of life stuff when relevant or whenever I find things funny. Although the pic above is an owl, I am probably more akin to a magpie with much reblogging of things I find "shiny" to add to the chaotic mess that is my tumblr dashboard.

⚔️🐦⚔️🐦⚔️🐦⚔️🐦⚔️🐦⚔️🐦⚔️🐦⚔️🐦⚔️🐦⚔️🐦⚔️🐦

@brb-on-a-side-blog is also me! This was created to hopefully separate original writing content from the rest of the reblogging I do so it doesn't get buried in theory. This may not work out in theory as well as in practice, but I promise to reblog the cool writing stuff to my main blog if you don't want to have it clogging up your dash :).

There are other ones but as I am currently not using them it seems futile to put in an intro post.

⚔️🐦⚔️🐦⚔️🐦⚔️🐦⚔️🐦⚔️🐦⚔️🐦⚔️🐦⚔️🐦⚔️🐦⚔️🐦

Tags to help sift through to find me in the hoard of posts!

#brb-rambles: Original thoughts about something (or at least as original as I can be).

#brb-(insert part of moots name here): interactions between me and said moot! I'm actually really not great at this but will get better and I forsee mass post editor being a BFF if I do this.

#brb-life: original content relating to my life/thoughts.

#brb-writes: original writing content (this will be potentially moved to sideblog).

#brb-memes (i make memes sometimes).

#brb-library: posts that are either really funny/really struck me so I'm going to save them to print out

#brb-adventures: the hopeful travel tag for some upcoming trips (either the grocery store or New York who knows).

#brb-learning-things: Things I have learned (although it's from my school/classes so questionably but I reason sourced; if it's not, I'll include source link/some kind of citation).

#brb needs a laugh check: I am joking. Please do not take me seriously.

#brb vs the call of the academia: school posting?

#brb-asks/#brb-report:s hopefully new ask tag if I can remember to add them.

#dear north canada love south canada (and associated tags I will not be typing out here) is a fun series I have with @igotthisaccountunderduress (she's absolutely cool, check her out). Again, that won't cover all the posts but again, vibes).

[ferrarisbabygirl]

i think that his aura it's also due the fact that he died racing, like gilles

hi, anon! i believe you're talking about a tag i put in an ayrton senna reblog i made, saying "photos of ayrton always fall on either the legend who must not be touched and exists in a higher dimension than me (…)" or the post about him actually being a silly guy who pranked his friends and was involved in psychological walfare and not an alpha male bro but yes!!! i agree 100% that it has a lot to do with him dying while racing.

like you said, gilles villeneuve has a similar aura around him, as does michael schumacher and even elio de angelis i would say.

they all feel untouchable in a way: gilles and elio died as promises of the sport, gone before they could fulfill all their potential and win the ammount of races and championships they seemed destined to.

as to michael and senna looking at them sometimes feels like looking at a religious image or a renascence painting, the aura feels godly almost, just from knowing everything they achieved in their years.

senna in specific is very hard for me to compare because brazilian idols are built this way, they all have this way of being perceived that makes you forget they were flesh and blood like you. and him crashing on live tv - can you even imagine what that does to a nation? to the sport even? - intensified this aura even more. everyone above 40 remembers the day he crashed or worse, remembers watching him die, that's a saint being born.

i truly believe there is no one like ayrton senna to brazilians. the nationwide love, watching races just to see him race, experiencing live the loss of an idol and not having any other brazilian driver get anywhere near him to this day just cemented his image as unforgettable, untouchable and unlike any other.

[sundayeleith]

I agree sm with your takes and especially with the most recent one about the smut in touchstarved and how ppl can just make fanfiction istead of taking it out on the devs or mischaracterizing the cast

it reminded me of a convo i had with a friend of mine, some ppl are literal porn addicts, their inability to comsume media that doesnt include porn is baffling, cant pass one comment section in a +18 game or book without people asking if there is porn and when there isnts they get disappointed, its literally so insane to me

I am sorry i am yapping so much but its truly such a problem for me and you put it so nicely into words that i had to spill my guts too, touchstarved has so much potential and i hope the devs dont get swayed by the fandom, i also hope it never goes mainstream amen 🤞🤞🤞🤞 We dont need more illiterate people

Honestly I totally agree with you, and dw I yap a lot too lmao (look at all I wrote... And I tried to make it short. I did, I promise 💀)

I don't like to shame or judge one's consuption of certain media and anyone can seek out smut if they want ! But acting that entittled and horribly when a piece of media is devoided of such content is not it at all. It's insane to me to act like this really, it's not like there's no smut on the internet of all places. Like people in general since 2020 are completly out of touch and chronically online. If one piece of media they find isn't exactly to their expectations or tastes they get out of control instead of just- dropping it and looking elsewhere 😭They expect to have smut everywhere to a point it's almost ridiculous, not every +18 media is about sex nor is every media with queer rep about sex.

On my previous post I had someone reblog it with tags saying how some people lost their marbles when the devs said they won't include full on smut adult scenes and called them scammers when like it was stated nowhere they'll make scenes like this. Like that is INSANE behavior either I didn't see it at the time or don't remember but damn- 💀

I did assume there may be some smut like many, but honesly I didn't mind the absence of it I shrugged it off like It's fine I'm not here for that anyways I'm here for the plot and rizz the deranged master manipulator mage with big man boobs and if I do want smut with my beautiful wife Leander in it I take my pretty ass to AO3 and look it up or I look here 🤷‍♂️ Or better anyone can write something ! They could do like most of us and put their energy into writing or art but no they'd rather be online bullies and ruin things for everyone with that sort of negative attitude (and I feel like this term is an understatement)

Thank god most of the fandom is just normally regulated people, I do hope we won't have any other major issue in the fandom in the future. Between all this shit, the queerphobia and the patreon backlash I can't e_e Ok I'll stop there it's long enough already isfhbisuohfosf

[my-castles-crumbling]

hi cas. no need to assign me a anon name or anything! i already have one on here but i don't really want to use it because, well, that is vulnerability or whatever.

i recently started posting stuff that i write on here. i don't use my account for much, normally it's just reblogs. i think i have one non writing non reblog post.

and i know that numbers don't matter and who cares if people like my posts etcetera etcetera but i can't help but feel kind of .. down in the dumps about it? like maybe im not doing something right? whether if that's actually related to my writing or to my lack of knowledge of the tumblr tagging system, who knows.

idk. i just wanted to tell someone this. only 1 friend i have follows my tumblr and then i have a few other people on here but no one close, so i just wanted to let it out somewhere. no need to reply!

thank you for )potentially) reading my rant. i really appreciate it. please take care of yourself - remember to eat, drink, take breaks, etc. you're amazing<3

Hi! <3

I hope you don't mind that I decided to reply to this because I think a lot of people feel the same way as you.

Honestly, interaction has a lot to do with luck and knowledge, not just writing skill. There are so many AMAZING fics I read that have little-to-no interaction, and they're beautifully written- so much better than mine! I think it's a combination of just pure luck and also knowing how to tag the right way (which is basically just tagging a LOT. like. a LOT). That's why I try to post fic recs, because I know that a lot of my interaction is literally luck, and it's my job to pass that on to people who deserve it a while lot more than me.

Please don't beat yourself up too much about it. I promise it's not a sign of skill at all.

[melodygatesauthor]

Weekly Update

11/07/2023

It has absolutely been weeks since I've done one of these but it's time for a new update! (Also I'm going to start doing these on Tuesday or Wednesday since Sundays are going to start getting busier for me with work)

Announcements/Reminders

Alright guys I'm back trying to abide by some sort of schedule. We're going to try it out. I don't want to set myself up for failure, and I don't want anyone getting upset if I don't post when I say I'm going to so I'm going to TRYYYYY.

You can see a comprehensive list of my current WIPs here. (Most of them are on there but there are some still missing I know. I'll add them). I'll add the potential update schedule later in this post.

ART ANNOUNCEMENTS

I'm taking art commissions! - Pricing - Follow my art blog: @melodymakesart

Currently I'm working on finishing the last part to my Frankenstein piece.

Fic Updates

Disclaimer - I never know which way the winds of inspiration will blow. Timeframes aren’t a promise/guarantee, they’re a goal.

Fic Updates Legend:

Blue - Update this week

Pink - Update in progress

Red - Backburner Fic (not currently working on. See WIP list for status)

You can find my current WIP list here

Chaptered Fic Updates

Always Yours, Never Mine - Chapter 4 is in progress, hoping to have the next update out either next week or the week after!

The Fractured Moon - Chapter 4 is in progress for this one as well. I'm not going to promise an update for next week but I'm actively working on it.

The Dark Side of the Moon - Chapter 7 is in progress. There will hopefully be another update for that this week. This fic is at the top of my priority list as I'd hoped to have it done before Halloween and clearly that didn't happen.

Mini-series Updates

Feeling You Can’t Fight - Okay I made this one half and half cause honestly I think I'm going to be able to get a chapter out this week but I can't make any promises but I'm hopeful!!!

Worth the Risk - I've written some stuff for part 3 hehe I'm very excited about it and I'm hoping you guys are going to like it <3 It will be out soon.

Remember to look at my WIP list for other backburner fics - There are many not included above lol).

Events/Miscellaneous

I'm still working on the fics for my ficversary. I'm ALMOST done with them and I'm hoping to have them done this week! Stay tuned!

I think that's all for now! Much love!

Don't forget to follow my other blogs:

@melodymakesart - My art blog

@lockandkeynovel - The blog for my original fiction novel, Lock & Key

@melodyreadsfanfiction - The blog where I reblog works I intend to read, a good place for fanfic readers to follow!

@melodygatesupdates - This is where I'll reblog any chapter updates for my fics and whatnot. This is what I use instead of a tag list!

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

He Sees You

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. Not all kinks or triggers are tagged. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Summary: You go away for the holidays but you can't escape all the worries you tried to leave at home..

Character: Walter Marshall

Day Seventeen of the December Daze Challenge.

Prompt - let's go somewhere warm for the winter.

Note: As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

Let's go somewhere warm for the winter 

The sun beams amber over the dulcet ripples. Your room looks down onto the hotel pool in the setting evening, a calming hue soothing your nerves. You haven't felt this close to peaceful in month. No... has it already been a year? 

"So, honey, what do you think about trying the restaurant? I was just looking over the menu. I've never tried mussels," your mother's voice cuts through the din. Another comfort you've longed for. 

"Sure, whatever you want," you face her and sigh.  

It's more than getting away from work and your tiny apartment and the city. It's that foreign feeling. Something you almost forgot. You feel safe. 

"You alright?" She asks with concern. 

"I'm great, mom," you assure her. "Thanks for bringing me." 

"Didn't know what else to do with all that money. You wouldn't believe it, Sheila was so jealous that I won the jackpot at bingo. I would've asked her if she hadn't been such a crabby ass about it." 

"Oh, I'm sorry." 

"Ah, she always was a pain," she shrugs. "Besides, I miss my baby girl. You're always so busy with work." 

"I know, mom, I'm sorry." 

You look down guiltily. You can't tell her that it's more an excuse these days than the truth. You are busy but not with your job. You're hiding. You don't have to here. It's nice and distant and warm. You can't remember a winter without snow. It's so strange to be hot in December. 

"I'll just change into something... not this," you look down at the sweats you wore on the plane. 

"Wonderful," you mom gives a small clap but concern lingers in the lines of her forehead, "we can wait until tomorrow if you're jetlagged." 

"I'm not. Promise. I want to," you assure her. 

You grab your bag and flip the lid open. You take out some capris and a flora shirt. You go into the bathroom as she searches her purse. You want to make the best of it. It's not often you have this luxury; not only the time off, but the all-inclusive resort. It's amazing.  

And it might be the only escape you get for a while. Or ever. 

You come out as your mom spritzes herself with body spray. She smiles and grabs her wallet, "dinner's on me." 

"Mom," you chide. 

"No, you don't even try. This is my present to you, honey. I want you to enjoy," she goes to the door and looks back at you. "What happened to my little girl and her smiles?" 

Her question pierces your heart. You know but it would break her heart to say it. You force a smile. 

"I'm just grown up and tired," you chuckle dryly. "Come on. I saw something about pineapple sangria." 

"That's my girl," she trills and holds the door for you. 

The restaurant is just as you expect. Tropical in the tourist sort of way. Fake palm trees, colourful glasses, twisty straws with fruit slid onto them. You order a sangria as your mother puts her glasses on and squints at the menu. 

The server brings your drinks and gives you time to peruse the selection. You settle on the carribean prawn cocktail as your mother stirs her spicy margarita. She sits back and looks around. It's good to see her happy too. 

"This is so nice," she preens. "You should come to bingo with me when we get back. If we both win, we could stay twice as long next time." 

She cackles and you laugh too. Genuinely, this time. That weight on your shoulder lessens bit by bit. You slurp down some sangria and let the alcohol sink in. You need this. You need to just forget. To let go. 

You're far from home. No one even knows you're here. Even work thinks you're just puttering around at your apartment, and your friends, the few who still talk to you, are too absorbed in their own holidays. 

You put in your orders and get another round. Your refills come with the food as your mother tells you about Maureen who steals her fliers. You laugh as you remember the rivalry she used to have with the other soccer moms. You were never very good at the sport though. 

"How's your food?" She asks as you pick away at the prawns. 

"Very good. I could eat a whole other platter but I won't." 

"It's a holiday, go on," she chirps. 

"No, no, really. My mind says yes but my stomach would say no way," you shake your head. 

"Hm, we'll need to get a dessert menu then," she grins and looks around for the server. 

He comes and clears your plates. Your mother requests the dessert list and he flits off to his task. He returns with more than the menu. He has another round of drinks in hand. 

"Oh, we didn't--" your mother begins. 

"The gentleman at the bar sent them over." The server puts down the drinks. 

You stiffen as you stare at the pineapple ring hooked over the brim. Your mother cranes to see whoever it is and you shrink down. You're paranoid. Not here. He couldn't be. 

"And the desserts," the server taps the menu before he hands it over. "I recommend the key lime cheesecake or the coconut cream trifle." 

"Oh, thank you." Your mother fawns, "honey, cheers." 

Your mother raises her glass in a gesture towards the bar. You hold your breath and lift your glass, mirroring her. You glance at the bar and nearly drop the drink. You quickly lower your hand and turn to her. She doesn't see your panic. 

"Um, you know what," you set the glass down gingerly as the waiter retreats. "I'm going to find the bathroom." 

You get up and keep your eyes ahead of you. You resist the urge to peek at the bar again. You don’t need another look. You know it’s him, you just can’t fathom how he found you. 

You enter the bathroom and quicky hide in a stall. You sit without intent. You need to think. What do you do? What can you do? You didn’t tell a soul. You wouldn’t even text your mom the details, just in case. Your stomach clenches until you think you might vomit. 

Then another thought brings you to your feet. Your mom. Shit. 

You get up and hurry back out. As you come into the dining room, your eyes move instinctively to the bar. He’s not there. With dread, you look to the table. Your mom’s alone. Thank god. Yet, you know better than to believe he’s gone. 

You join her and reach for the sangria without a thought. You nearly choke on the mouthful as you recall where it came from. You force it down and place the drink on the table. 

“That stranger sure was kind, treating us to a round,” she smiles. “Been a long time since a handsome man bought me a drink.” 

You try to smile but you’re so tense, you can hardly breathe. “So, uh,” you swallow to restrain the tremble in your voice. “What do you want for dessert? The banana pudding sounds good.” 

You look down at the menu, hoping she can’t see the truth. She’s always been smart. She always catches you out. Maybe the drinks are enough to save you. At least, enough to protect her. Ignorance is bliss and you don’t want to ruin the first vacation she’s had in years. 

🌴

Your mother snores in the other bed. You lay awake. Your phone rests on your stomach. You wait for the inevitable buzz. 

You feel weak, so fraught that your bones are heavy. Weary. That’s the word. You’re so tired of running, especially when it only feels like you’re standing still. 

Brrrrr. 

The vibration makes you jolt. You grab at the phone clumsily and raise it to read the message. It’s him. It’s not a surprise. No one hs your number but the woman in the room with you. Or so you thought. 

‘You looked really nice tonight.’ 

You stare. You can’t answer that. You doubt he expects one. No, he’s taunting you. 

‘How’s your mom?’ 

You sit up and hiss. No. No. That’s off-limits. 

‘Leave her alone,’ your thumbs skitter over the keys quickly. 

Three dots appear. Then disappear. Then pop up again. 

‘I don’t like talking like this.’ 

You grit your teeth. Fuck off. You want so badly to type it in. Your mother snorts and rolls over. The next message shakes your hands. 

‘Room 3054.’ 

‘Where?’ You text back as seeing your suite number makes you ill. 

‘Bar. Got a cocktail waiting for you.’ 

Checkmate. You’re no good at his game and you’re terrified of him flipping the board. You slide out of bed quietly and wade through the dark. You pull a hoodie on over your camisole, careless of the flowy fabric of your shorts. You step into your sneakers, bending the backs, and shove the room key into your sweater pocket. 

He’s waiting, just like he said. With a beer for himself and another bright yellow drink for you. You near as he tugs at one of his dark curls, combing his fingers through the knot at the base of his skull. He grunts as he looses it and brings his hand back to the bottle. 

You climb up next to him. You ignore the drink. 

“What are you doing here?” You ask. 

“I should ask you the same.” 

“It’s none--” you begin and think better of it. “I’m spending time with my mother. Shouldn’t you be with your family?” 

He grits his teeth and swallows. Walter is a big man. Burly is an understatement. Before, when he was just customer, you compared him to a teddy bear. Now he’s grizzly stalking you through the trees. 

“We were supposed to be together. It’s the holiday. You couldn’t even let me know?” He turns to stare you down with his icy blue eyes. 

Your cheek ticks and your eyes flick to the wall. He scares you. More than anything. 

“I’ve been asking to meet your mom, haven’t I?” 

“Please, why... why do you have to do this?” 

“Why do you have to do this?” He shoots back. “I’m the only reason you’re safe.” 

You shudder and rub your arm. No, he’s the reason you’re scared. He's the reason you can’t sleep. You never asked for any of this. 

You gnaw on your cheeks and shake your head. Your mouth is dry and your chest is empty. The futility keeps you quiet. 

“Your mom seems nice--” 

“No,” you look at him again. “No. She’s my mom. She’s all I have so you don’t-- don’t.” You beg. “Whatever you want, I’ll do it, but you don’t get near her. You--” 

“You act like I want to hurt her. Why would I do that? She gave me you?” He arches a brow. 

You inhale and lean your elbow on the bar, “Walter.” 

His lashes flick up and his tongue pokes out to trace his lips, “have your drink. We’ll have enough time to go back to my room before she’s up.” 

You stare at him. He turns to the bar and lifts the beer bottle. He drinks casually as you watch. You lower your head as your hands shake over your lap. You reach to turn yourself on the tall stool.  

The mirror behind the bar reflects your fear. His eyes meet yours and you wince. You knew this was too good to be true. You knew that even here wasn’t far enough. 

[silvysartfulness]

Heyyy you usually tag all moths and butterflies as such but very recently you posted a huge ass moth photo that was only tagged with the species, would you mind tagging it with a broader tag? I got a phobia and let me tell you. that was a jumpscare lol

Hi! Sorry you got scared! But the thing is, I don't actually tag for butterflies and moths? In fact, I don't really trigger/content tag for anything. The only content tag I use regularly is #the untamed. Other than that, I really only use tags to either leave commentary, or to help my original content posts show up in searches - I did tag a post with butterflies the other day, but that was my own photo set, and it was tagged to help people find it.

The thing is - I have a very burned-out, broken brain and struggle a lot with fatigue and focus and memory problems. I use tumblr to relax and unwind, and I don't have the spoons to try to remember to tag for every potential trigger in every single post I reblog. I just hit that reblog button and keep scrolling. So by choice and necessity, my blog is as-is, unfiltered and untagged, rather than me promising to content tag for stuff and then forgetting about it. It's all stated in the intro.

So unfortunately, while you're absolutely allowed to ask people to tag certain content, I am equally allowed to say no. Sometimes different needs simply can't be accommodated at once. I wholly understand if that means you choose to unfollow, you should take care of yourself first and foremost!

Whichever you choose, may your dash be free of unwelcome flutteries from now on!

[silas-soule]

about me and the blog:

my name is silas (or dee or beathan). i'm white, british and autistic. my special interest at the moment is the nez perce war, but this blog is mostly about 19th century american history in general. sometimes i post stuff from earlier or later periods, or about things that aren't american, but not very often.

i am trying to educate myself, but sometimes i will make mistakes. of course, i understand that some of the things i post about may be difficult subjects, but i try to approach them with respect and understanding. i know that native history is very broad and diverse and continues to this day. (i don't post abt modern native culture cos this is a history blog, and it feels kinda disrespectful to put modern native stuff in a history blog. so if you're wondering abt the lack of contemporary stuff, that's why). EDIT: i rb some modern native stuff on my blog @bisonposting

i don't know too much about non 19th century american history, but feel free to tell me any cool facts you might have about it. but 'native american history' is a very broad topic and i might not be able to cover it all.

if you have any specific questions feel free to @ me and i'll try and answer them to the best of my ability. i promise i'm friendly and i'm always ready to learn new facts and educate myself further. at the moment, asks are turned on, but if yall start sending me threats again then i'll turn them off.

blog rules:

this is not an aesthetics blog!!! sometimes i reblog art but please remember that native american cultures are not aesthetics!!

i tag every potential trigger warning as 'tw [x]'. i tag tws for animal death, slurs and pictures of dead bodies. i don't tag tws for racism and genocide, since that's a blanket tw for the blog.

dni if you're a confederate sympathiser, believe that leif erikson/columbus 'discovered' america, believe that any pre-colonial american artifacts were made by the ancient greeks, aliens or guys from the bible or if you're a general conspiracy theorist or white supremacist. you will be blocked on sight. sending me threats will not change my mind.

my prev special interests have included the celts, medieval britain (especially the barons wars and the wars of the roses), spying and codes in ww2 and ancient egypt). for anything medieval related go to my other blog @wyncandel and for anything classical civilisation related go to my other other blog @mus-rusticus

(main blog @bison-appreciation-club. i like and follow from there.)

[witchyleehibernates-fics]

About Me

Hiya! I'm Lee, or WitchyLee if you like, and I'm a fanfic writer for a multitude of fandoms. I use They/Them, He/Him, and Neo pronouns interchangeably! Any and all neos are welcome! Even if they sound inherently feminine, I just don't like she/her in regards to myself for personal reasons.

This is my blog where I post and promote my fanfiction! This 'About Me' will be edited as time goes on, whether I add tags or fandoms, or even boundaries should I need them!

My main blog is: @witchyleehibernates

I do a lot of reblogging there, hence me making this one for my Fanfiction and Headcanons

Examples of Fandoms Include:

DSMP (Dream SMP)

X-Men

The Outsiders

Percy Jackson

MHA (My Hero Academia)

And others!

At least, in the future there will be others. I love and read a wide variety of fandoms (like Hermitcraft, Grian's Life Series, Voltron, Black Butler, Marvel Avengers, ECT...)

I post here on Tumblr, and I post to AO3 and Fanfiction Net. I also have a Wattpad, though I don't have anything up currently, unsure if I'm gonna use it or not (there's some good fics on Wattpad I like to read).

I also participate and write in a lot of writing events, some times I'm posting four five or six times a week, other times I'm silent for upwards of three months, LOL.

Writing Events Participated in:

SBI Bingo (there were several and I participated in most of them)

TWB MCC (on a different AO3 which no longer exists)

TWB Countdown Event

Seasons Skirmish

Romy Week 2024

Solstice Scribes Summer Solstice

Fic Fight

Seasons Skirmish Monster Of The Week

Alliums Trick or Treat Event (on going)

Solstice Scribes Winter Solstice (future)

And more i just cannot remember a lot of 'em, and a lot of them were on an account which no longer exists (for mental health reasons, my OCD could not handle that account? I don't know why, but I'm upset I didn't save all my fics to a collection at the very least)

Important Tags on my Blog:

#WitchyLee Answers - Used when answering all asks on my Fanfic Blog!

#WitchyLee Talks - IRL stuff on my main blog

#WitchyLeeHibernatesAUs - Mainly used on my Main Blog when I'm talking or rambling about my au's, though can and will be used here!

#WitchyLee Headcanons - Headcanons that I have! Potentially will add what fandom it's for too (i.e. 'WitchyLee Outsiders Headcanons' or 'WitchyLee PJO HoO Headcanons' or 'WitchyLee XMen Headcanons')

#WitchyLee Master Lists - to group all my Master lists together on my main blog

#WitchyLee Snippets - Snippets of my works!

Feel absolutely free to send in asks or questions! I will answer them here! Whether it's about a fic, a world build, any headcanons, or if you were simply curious about something or anything! I'm really nice and I promise I don't bite!

Any and all advice to using Tumblr would be appreciated as well! I still consider myself very new here!

[thatsmzbitchtoyou]

can i go on a rant? please can i go on a rant? i promise it's a good rant!

I. CANNOT UNDERSTAND. HOW. YOU DON'T HAVE 5K+ NOTES ON EACH POST/PIECE OF WRITING YOU PUT OUT! because, my darling, your writing is so perfectly balanced! there's angst, there's fluff, there's smut and there's amazing research done in the background!

just last night, i read through ALL of your 5-7 part series's for Bucky Barnes and i loved each of them! and i will definitely be coming back to re-read them, thank you very much! (⸝⸝⸝• 3 •⸝⸝⸝) ♡

however, i'm gutted, absolutely gutted that you don't have summaries introducing your phenomenal fics in the beginning of each post because i would have skipped past your writing completely if i didn't take a chance last night. and, knowing that, knowing that i would have missed out on your incredible work...! 。°(°.◜ᯅ◝°)°。my darling, that's criminal!

i'm begging you on my knees that you write a quick and brief summary of each series and have it available on every post so that more people would be willing to read your writing and give it a chance; your talent needs to be recognised and shared wildly! you have so much potential and i hate to think that you feel inadequate or unmotivated in any way for receiving less notes, comments and love than you absolutely DESERVE! so please please please write a short summary or something and reblog your work with that summary and with an entire list of tags! YOU DESERVE SO MUCH MORE LOVE!

i also want to praise you for your unique readers, many writers have relatively basic reader characters, which i understand, it's a reader fic after all and it needs to cater to the masses but i adore that you give your readers a little more personality, a little more background and a little more depth! they feel a lot more human but i can still imagine myself in their shoes, kind of like an alter ego situation going on. again, your fics are so well balanced, i'm in awe of how you're able to do it! however, i'd like to ask that you put a small notice of warning in the beginning of your fics if the reader has a specific body image so that everyone knows what to expect. i still read your series' where the reader is curvier because i adore your writing so much but i was definitely surprised and had a little hesitation going forward when i read the description of a curvier reader since it's not really my body type anymore. it's not to offend you, i assure you, i just believe a warning of that detail would be good to have in the beginning of your posts x

one more thing i want to add is that i admire you so much for the research you do for each series you've written so far! i've learned so much about different eras/times, different lifestyles, different rituals different everything from your fics and i love that so much! i truly fall into a different world when i read your writing, you portray it all so so well -- i can tell that you love writing and care a lot about the quality just from that which makes you such a phenomenal writer! i can't wait to read your upcoming series' and i hope to send you more love in the future as well after i've read them!

all that being said, i think you're brilliant and i just wanted to send you some love for keeping me so entranced with each fic; i can't wait to see what else you have in store as i'm already an avid fan

all my love, 🌱 anon x

(i'll be coming back often so you can remember me as 🌱 anon)

You are so incredibly sweet and kind. Thank you so much for the praise and feedback. I'm very new to this, and I'm literally just writing what I want to see in fanfics for characters I love, but I will definitely try to take into consideration your suggestions. I guess I'm just afraid of ruining plot points with summaries? Or just struggle with putting the stories into a small blurb/description? Nevertheless, I'll definitely try. Thank you for recognizing the research. I take great care in making sure that things are correct historically as much as I can, and I enjoy learning about different historical periods so it's fun! But of course if I ever write anything that isn't correct or badly researched I hope those who are smarter than me will message or comment and let me know!

And yes, I should put some kind of content "warning" that the reader I usually write for is curvy. (Yes, it's because I'm plus size, so I want my plus size baddies to feel all the love). I'm so happy you liked them! I've got a few more things in the think tank but I fear I'm running out of ideas, so if you or anyone else has any suggestions or requests please let me know.

Again, thank you for reading. I appreciate you and all others who have taken the time to read and comment or follow. Y'all are the best. Much love.

-Li

[lucicherie]

BEFORE YOU’RE JUST A GIRL!

𖥟 hi again from mars! pls take the time to read this in order to know everything about my blog!

𖥟 do not interact if you’re racist, homophobic, sexist, transphobic, a kinkshamer, can’t separate fiction from reality, etc.

𖥟 like I’ve said in my rules, minors please do not engage or interact with me or my blog unless you are 18 or older. if I catch you interacting with my blog, automatic blocks are being used. i don’t care what you have to say, this blog & these works do not pertain to you, plain and simple.

𖥟 this is my blog & my rules, this is a safe space for me and for anyone else that wants a safe space at any time so be nice.

𖥟 do not spam like, excessive spamming could get me shadowbanned and a really good chance of you getting blocked.

𖥟 this blog will not actively contain manga spoilers of any kind unless it’s jjk (since im caught up)

𖥟 be aware that stuff i write is mature so make sure you have the settings changed so you can see it incase I get flagged or reblogged works tag is set to mature.

𖥟 i don’t mind being asked to be mutuals, as long as we get along or have the same kind of vibe, im good. I’ll determine if i wanna be mutuals based on my comfortability.

𖥟 please remember i'm a human being that has real feelings and has a life outside of this so requests/asks could take a while. pls be patient, thanksss !!

𖥟 i loving talking to people and creating a safe space so i dont mind chatting but please don’t trauma dump in my inbox, it could be a potential trigger for me. I dont mind being an ear to listen or being asked for advice depending on what it is but that’s all i’ll be comfy with.

𖥟 don’t spam my inbox please. I like answering asks but sometimes im not in the mood to or just get busy.

𖥟 i have the right to block any mutual or anything else without giving an explanation. This is my safe space and i want to be comfortable at all times.

𖥟 for the love of all things please do not copy + steal my themes and layouts. It takes time and patience for everything I create and make so don’t do that cause you will be called out and blocked.

𖥟 on top of that i absolutely do not allow my work/ideas to be plagiarized, translated, copied, or stolen. Inspiration from anything of mine on the other hand is okay and I would prefer to be aware of it.

𖥟 i have no time for drama, girl please i am a full time college student and in my 20s, i promise you i do not care and i have no patience for it either. i will block you without a second thought. I don’t start drama, encourage drama and it being brought on my blog is unacceptable.

𖥟 i’m a new writer and i don’t mind taking criticism only if it’d be helpful and it’s not coming from a place of being mean/bullying. If you wanna be a hater and don’t like what i read, then maybe don’t read it and write your own work instead :)

𖥟 i dont argue, get mean or allow people to be mean/bully for no reason. I’m very nice and friendly but this is just a hobby of mine and I have no desire to do this forever or take it serious. I write about fictional men from anime, interact, and make my blog pretty and a safe space, that’s all besties. <3

𖥟 please refrain from calling me out my name in any way, including derogatory words. I only go by mars (or other nicknames/petnames).

rules!

[strawberrysoup]

Pocketful of Posies || Chapter 5

You’d been hiding for years and years now; from your family, from society, from alphas and packs. Suppressants were dangerous but effective and necessary for an omega who refused to be owned—but no suppressants were strong enough to fool the nose of a super soldier, who together with his pack would stop at nothing to bind you to them forever.

pairings: dark!Avengers x reader

word length: 4.7k

chapters: 5/?

warnings: A/B/O dynamics, power imbalances, noncon and dubcon sexual situations, loss of autonomy, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat — this is a dark!fic, read at your own risk. more detailed content warnings are included at the end of the chapter to avoid spoilers, click through the read more, CTRL + F “content warnings”. 

Rationality within Carol’s pack was often treated like a talking stick; only one person could have and use it at a time, and stealing it required either brute force or a clever trick—which was why she and Loki fumbled it back and forth so often. Sam seemed to have snatched it for a moment, until their omega’s sharp tongue made him fumble. She was cutting and brutal, as wild as she’d looked the first time Carol saw her: covered in mud and blood, half soaked from the bath and thrashing violently while Thor and Peter tried to gently get her in the tub.

The blonde figured it was time to regain the upper hand over their omega and came to stand at the top of the stairs, eyes locking on Sam from behind. He was turning the corner from patience to frustration, their little omega’s demeaning comments making the muscle in his jaw clench. It was impressive though; any of the other alpha’s in the house (plus herself and maybe minus Peter) would’ve had her nose in the corner by now, bent over to hold her own ankles and struggling for balance so that her forehead didn’t press against the wall lest she earn herself a spanking for being sulky.

“Alright Sammy, tag out,” Carol made sure that there was an undertone of mirth in her voice, hoping to bring the other alpha out of his anger. “You should probably go check on dinner and—Bruce, test results?”

“Oh, you’re right,” the beta nodded, immediately headed for the stairs. “Her hormone analysis should be ready at the least.”

The moment her eyes landed on the little omega on the bed, Carol felt her heart melt just a bit. Despite the vitriol she’d been spitting just moments before, the precious thing looked like an angel sprawled out in their den. All she wore was one of Thor’s t-shirts, the hem brushing the tops of her thighs and perfuming her scentless skin with his musk—she couldn’t wait until the suppressants were out of their omega’s system, Carol desperately wanted to know what she smelled like.

“Sammy?” The blonde prompted when the male alpha didn’t move, leading him to sigh.

“Yeah babe,” he leaned over and pressed a kiss against the omega’s forehead, ignoring how she shrunk back into the pillows behind her. “I’m out. Take care of her, beautiful.”

Sam stopped to press a kiss against Carol’s cheek on his way down the stairs, gesturing for Tony to follow. The genius rolled his eyes and huffed but followed nonetheless, only after tossing a wink at the scowling omega huddled in what would hopefully soon be a nest. Carol waited until they were both down before returning her attention to the younger woman, stomach filling with butterflies.

Carol had wanted an omega since she presented as an alpha at twelve. 90% of the people she interacted with thought she was such a waste—a female alpha? Objectively, a useless combination. Female alphas were weak and passive, certainly not strong enough to lead a pack or produce strong alpha babies. If only she’d been a delta or a beta, she could’ve at least carried children. She’d always been fully aware that society’s perspective was incredibly flawed; she was as dominant as any male, just as potent and just as strong. Stronger even—more recently by unimaginable levels.

But omegas rarely looked negatively upon female alphas. Omegas preened and clamored for the attention female alphas provided, they saw it as more tender and careful. Carol didn’t know if she exactly agreed with that either, but at least an omega would never look at her and consider her a very pretty waste.

Or so the blonde had thought, right up until making eye contact with the sweet-faced omega her pack had managed to stumble upon. She certainly didn’t look pleased, her glare verging on incendiary.

“You sure are feisty,” she felt her lips quirking at the corners, especially when the omega seemed to puff up like an angry kitten. “What you said to Sam wasn’t very nice. You gonna hiss at me too?”

The answer was a resounding yes, the cute, clicking cub growl she made only reinforcing Carol’s gut instinct that the little omega was perfect. She liked that fire, it wasn’t disrespectful—it demanded respect and the blonde could certainly understand that sort of attitude. Considering her omega’s evident disdain for modern presentation centered care, it could even be considered mild.

“Claws away, baby,” she ordered, tone amused and the smile still curling her lips as she toed her shoes off at the edge of the bed. “Be a good girl for me now.”

Carol pressed the omega flat to the bed before she could fight, plastering herself against the half-naked woman and burying her face in the crook of her neck. Scenting deeply made the blonde’s eyes roll back in her head—the faint scent of panicking omega wafted off her skin, only noticeable at such a distance. Thank God the Hulk picked it up, the alpha’s senses so incredibly strong that even while masked by Bruce’s beta he had picked up the faint whiff of omega; if Bruce hadn’t prompted Steve to scent carefully they might not’ve found her. Carol hadn’t been the only one in the pack desperate for an omega.

Thor had been… devastated to learn of the lack of omegas on Earth. With the destruction of Asgard and the remaining population’s relocation, it had been another gut punch to the alpha prime who’s people had already endured so much. He’d spoken at length about how omega Aesir were different than humans’ and the tone of longing and sadness in the prime had radiated through their entire pack.

The deltas, Bucky, Tony and Loki had all realized years ago how sorely their dynamic suffered without an omega. A delta’s overwhelming physiological drive was to provide support and comfort to pack members, their intuition let them see their packmates in a way the other presentation’s couldn’t replicate. Their pack’s deltas were all incredibly intuitive, beyond the norm, and without an omega to properly direct them they got manipulative. It was rarely antagonistic or cruel and if there had only been one delta in the pack, it would’ve slid by without notice—but deltas perceived the deception where others didn’t and it usually led to dissent amongst the three.

And while Steve had never said a word, Carol knew that as a sickly little beta he’d dreamt of being ‘strong enough to deserve an omega’. Bucky had mentioned it briefly—as had Tony, who’d heard it from his father at least biweekly. Steve loved omegas; he loved that they balanced an incredible strength with equal fragility. The very nature of them spoke to his inner artist, ‘his inner romantic,’ Bucky had teased. Now that he was a big ass alpha prime? He could deserve an omega now, he was strong enough now.

Their omega was practically a miracle, considering how few of them there were—so few adults, especially. Some claimed the overall population of omegas was going up despite the overwhelming evidence of the opposite and besides, the number of omegas born every year didn’t matter when you had packmates approaching their mid-forties. Tony, Bruce, and Clint were getting up there, as everyone liked to tease. Finding a reasonably aged omega that was also unclaimed? They’d never even considered the possibility, it was unfathomable.

Carol had consoled herself with the knowledge that her pack loved her deeply, found no fault in her gender or presentation. She knew it would take time, but soon her omega would realize the same. There was nothing wrong with her, she didn’t need to hide or put on a façade; not in their pack, not under their protection. Whatever the omega had gone through in her life must’ve been traumatizing, the blonde could only assume some sort of abuse, and it would be tough to instill confidence in her. They’d need to build her back up from scratch.

“You know, if you’d let Wanda search your mind, we’d have a much easier time understanding what’s going on,” the blonde murmured into the omega’s neck, nose brushing back and forth over her left scent gland. “Will you tell me why you’re so scared? Are you afraid of alphas or of packs? Or deltas?”

“I’m afraid of being trapped forever by a bunch of fucking rapists and kidnappers!” She spat furiously in response, struggling futilely under Carol’s careful grasp. “Get your fucking face out of my neck!”

“Packs it is then,” Carol sighed, lifting her head but keeping the woman pinned beneath her.

“You’re so shifty ‘mega, calm down. There are some horrible people out there, we know that better than anyone, and I’m sorry that you were hurt. I’m sorry you had to go through whatever it was.”

The omega froze, muscles pulling so tightly that she started to shiver. Her lips pursed, jaw clenching and her eyes got dim, lashes fluttering as she looked into the distance over Carol’s shoulder. It was a dead-eyed stare, one the blonde had seen before. Her baby was half trapped in a memory, tightly clenched hands clawing at Carol’s shirt and trying to force her body away.

“I’m sorry baby, I’m sorry, come back—” Carol cooed into the omega’s ear, holding her tighter as she struggled. “You’re with me baby, you’re safe. Breathe with me, come back to me.”

“Would you fucking get off!” The omega choked, sounding both parts desolate and frustrated. “Why don’t you people fucking listen? Am I speaking gibberish?”

“I’m sorry you’re so angry omega,” the blonde’s eyebrows furrowed, sadness permeating her expression as she lowered her head to rest her forehead against the omega’s. “I’m sorry, I can’t get off—you need the pheromones, the alpha contact chemicals. Even if you’re traumatized, once the suppressants you’re on start to wear off you’re going to have to submit. We need to start practicing now so you can get comfortable with it, before it’s critical for your health.”

“Stop saying you’re sorry, you’re not sorry! If you were, you would’ve let me go. You wouldn’t be holding me here! I don’t need or want your help, I don’t want to be in a pack!”

“I hear you, baby, I promise I understand what you’re saying,” Carol carefully pinned one of the flailing omega’s arms down with her knee, reaching up to stroke the woman’s face. “You don’t want to be here, you don’t want to have a pack, I’m sure you don’t want to be bonded to us. But you’re on so many suppressants baby, there are so many mind-altering chemicals in the shit you were taking—”

“If you force me to stop taking them I’ll only be under the ‘mind-altering’ chemicals produced by the other presentations and—and this stupid collar forcing my body to produce addictive chemicals at a rapid rate,” she argued, “you want to argue that I’m out of my mind like I can’t be trusted with my own safety! I’m fully conscious, I’m not stupid, I’m an adult for fuck’s sake. The only thing that’s going to fuck up my personal agency is you!”

“We’ll know for sure when Bruce gets your test results back,” Carol sighed realizing how unlikely it would be for her to get through to the omega. “Tony’s having some equipment dropped by in the morning so he and Bruce can run some more. If your hormone levels aren’t entirely trashed, we’ll revisit this conversation.”

“You have to let me take my suppressants tonight then,” the omega pushed against the blonde again, grunting with effort and irritation when she didn’t move at all. “Otherwise the test results from today won’t match the ones tomorrow, missing a dose will entirely trash my hormone levels! The tests won’t provide an accurate reading!”

Carol was shaking her head before she’d even finished the explanation. “No way, there’s a reason those are illegal, baby. They’re so dangerous—”

“I’ve been taking them for fifteen years and I’m completely fine, come on—”

She watched the omega’s face fall when she sighed, “it’s not gonna happen baby. This one isn’t up for debate.”

“This one?” The omega scoffed bitterly, lips twisting as angry tears collected in her eyes. “Nothing is ‘up for debate’. I’m here, aren’t I? Obviously against my will. I’m not even wearing my own clothes, you won’t let me move! You’re acting like this is the one bit of agency you’re planning to strip from me but you’re either too stupid to realize that or you’re too caught up in the idea of having a house bitch to care!”

“Hey, don’t say that,” Carol frowned, thumb smoothing over the crease between her brows. “We’re not looking to ruin your life, baby. The last thing we want is to make you meek or take away your ability to make your own choices, but we have to take care of you.”

“Y-you don’t though,” she hissed, breath hitching as she fought not to cry in front of the alpha. “I’ve been taking care of-of myself for years. I’ve never had a problem I’ve—I’ve never been attacked or assaulted or—”

Carol shifted until the omega was cradled in her lap, easily blocking the omega’s attempts to escape her grasp, “If that’s true baby girl, I don’t think you understand how rare it is—or how it would mean you were poisoning yourself so thoroughly that no alpha could scent you. There’s too many people out there would hurt you just for being you; the only way for you to be safe is with us, where you don’t have to keep taking the pill equivalent of drinking gasoline and bleach.”

“I should have the choice!”

“The choice to slowly kill yourself?” The blonde looked down into the omega’s face in disbelief. “No one in their right mind would allow another person to suffer like that.”

Their attention was suddenly and brutally drawn to the stairwell, both of their hindbrains reacting to the scent of overwhelmingly aroused alphas accompanied by raised voices and shouting. The omega in her lap went completely and utterly still, instincts locking down all movement as if it could prevent her from being seen. Carol sighed quietly through her nose, nudging her forehead gently against the charming little creature hiding against her chest. She couldn’t really tell what they were yelling about but she figured it had something to do with whatever Bruce found.

“Someone has to—!”

“That doesn’t mean—!”

“It should be—!”

The blonde cracked her neck, arms slipping around the waist of her omega and locking in place like iron bands. The cowering made it easier for Carol to snuggle her tightly against her chest, wiggling them carefully as several pairs of feet began stomping up the stairs, until the omega was entirely engulfed by the alpha from behind. Steve and Thor made it up first, shoulder to shoulder and passive-aggressively nudging each other in the ribs. Sam was next, along with Bucky—both of whom were being decidedly antagonistic to poor Peter who followed behind.

“Would you guys shut the hell up? What’s going on?”

Before anyone else could respond Bruce forced his way between the group of more dominant males, eyes flashing green even as he attempted to shake it off, “the amount of alpha pheromone in her blood is so low it’s amazing she isn’t in shock.”

“What?!” The omega snapped furiously, eyes darting between the people standing around the room nervously. “There’s nothing wrong with me—!”

“Carol, hold her,” Steve ordered, as if the blonde hadn’t locked the omega down the second they heard them coming. “Thor, how are we gonna do this?”

Both primes looked almost pained, their faces painted with grimaces as they exchanged glances. Their struggle was easy to identify; neither wanted to cause any strife between them, damage to their partnership would damage the pack but they wanted to be first. Their hindbrains could barely function beyond the desire to fuck their omega, their pretty, sweet little omega who desperately needed alpha semen because her body would stop functioning without it. Primes always got first take on omegas, but when there were two primes in a pack things got dicey.

“Have one of us do it,” Carol chimed, carefully maintaining an expression that relayed she wasn’t trying to step on toes. “Both of you are massive, you could do damage without proper prep and if it’s that serious we can’t wait on that.”

“I’ll do it!” Peter was quick to step forward. “You all know I’ll the gentlest and she’s already upset—”

“Shut it Spiderboy,” Sam quickly interjected, giving the younger alpha a stern look, “she needs careful handling, not some teenager fumbling with his knot.”

“I’m not a teenager anymore you asshole—!”

“Carol’s cock is the smallest,” Tony stated nonchalantly as he kicked off his shoes in the closet that faced the den, “no offense babe, just logistics.”  

“None taken,” the blonde snorted slightly in amusement before turning her attention to the two primes, “I can get her started, at least get her hormones on the right track.”

“Let go of me you psycho!” The omega howled, voice constricted by her collar. “Get away from me, let me go!”

A low, bone-deep rumble suddenly washed over everyone in the attic, the growl emanating from both Steve and Thor. A keening moan escaped the omega, her breath hitching and eyes rolling as viscous slick gushed from her pussy. The scent of it made waves through the rest of the pack, a cacophony of moans and growls echoing off the high ceiling as the responding scent of hot and bothered emanated through the den.

“Thor?” Steve questioned the other prime imploringly, knowing that they needed an immediate answer and follow through.

The taller man grit his teeth, nose flaring for several moments before he let out another low growl that made their omega cry with arousal. “You first—leave my shirt on her, please.”

“Oh God, oh God,” the whimpering omega shifted in Carol’s arms, likely about to try to make a break for it when Steve swept her up into his arms. “Please, wait—!”

“Your pussy is dripping for your primes, isn’t it precious?” The alpha male hummed quietly as he swiftly lowered them both to the bed, hands grasping the backs of her thighs and pressing her knees towards her shoulders. “So much slick for such a little thing.”

The whine that came from Peter sounded wrecked, only minutely more embarrassing than the groans and panting coming from the rest of the pack as they watched. The omega looked to be approaching frantic and Carol sighed, shifting farther away from the prime on the bed—there was no reason to test Steve’s incredible patience. Well, that had been Carol’s opinion anyway.

Evidently Loki believed otherwise, but then again the delta was habitually prone to testing Steve’s last goddamn nerve. The brunet had appeared with a shimmering green light, lying on the bed so close to the omega that the scent from his ridiculously expensive Fendi sweater was transferring to her arm and shoulder. The prime had barely flinched, certainly hadn’t reacted in a manner more noticeable than a slight dilation in his pupil. Thor made a reprimanding noise but didn’t move forward to remove the delta, much to Bucky and Tony’s immediate disdain.

“Why the fuck does he get to—!”

“You better rethink that, Ice Man!”

The combined snarls from both primes quickly brought all three deltas to heel and while Loki didn’t retreat, he did keep his hands to himself. One hand propped up his head, the other tightly fisted and rested on the bed between himself and the omega’s borrowed shirt while eyes burned into him from all sides. The omega’s wide eyes were locked on the man, some flicker of recognition fleetingly passing over her face. Loki was good at surprise entrances and even better at taking advantage of his brother’s status in the pack—not that he necessarily got away with things the others wouldn’t, but none of the others particularly wanted to find out what the prime’s breaking point was either.

“I just want to keep her calm, is that so horrible?” The tone the God used was smooth and Carol remembered the talking stick analogy again. “You can smell the poor thing’s terror, is it really necessary?”

Steve looked conflicted for maybe two seconds when a light went off behind his eyes. “Keep her calm so I don’t have to purr and you can stay.”

The delta’s hand immediately slipped up the front of her shirt, cupping the curve of her rib cage just under her breast. His nose pressed into her neck in the following moments, a small golden glow flowing over the little omega’s skin where he touched her. The odor of fear was quick to recede once the windows were open, replaced with the tangy-sweet scent of her pussy. Carol inhaled sharply and whined, drawing Steve’s attention to her wide, sad eyes.

The prime huffed, running one big hand through his hair while Loki held the omega’s thigh in place. “Hands to yourself, Carol.”

The blonde immediately tucked her nose into the other side of the omega’s neck, hands clenched into fists and tucked tightly against her stomach. She could hear the rest of the pack shuffling around, vying for space and views on the bed. Steve seemed entirely unbothered, his gaze once again locked on the pretty omega’s.

“Is your cunt working your slick hard enough precious?” He murmured directly into her ear, lips brushing the skin gently. “If those muscles aren’t strong enough we might have to put in a bit more effort to stretch you out. Squeeze around my fingers baby.”

Carol’s eyes rolled back when a breathy whine escaped the omega, the only perceivable reaction that might’ve betrayed her fear—otherwise, whatever magic Loki had used made her eyes shine with bliss. Steve had two fingers knuckle deep in her cunt, still pressing forward while his slick coated thumb swept up through her folds to pass over her clit. She shook under the grasp of his packmates, hips shifting without her consent to follow the movement of his hand.

“Come on sweetheart, please?” Steve implored quietly, looking at the loosely pinned omega with soft eyes. “Clench your pussy for me, let me take care of you. Please, I—oh, there you go, that’s a good girl.”

He hummed, working his fingers deeper into her cunt and scissoring them carefully. A smile lit the prime’s face when the cutest hiccupping moan escaped the omega, her legs pressing futilely against his hold. Muscle memory tried to guide her legs closed but Carol easily slipped a hand around her knee, keeping her spread wide while Steve continued to stretch her pussy. Another bass toned growl from Thor reverberated off the walls and she wailed, slick dripping over Steve’s fingers while her pussy contracted in waves as commanded by the prime’s guttural growl.

“I’m gonna take care of you precious,” her low whine prompted a moan from Steve as he added a third finger, carefully pressing the pads of his fingers up against her g-spot. “You’ll feel so much better once we fuck you, I promise.”

Carol watched with heavily lidded eyes as the omega’s attention was sparked by Steve’s use of the collective we. Likely it was only Loki’s magic that kept her from lashing out as viciously as they knew she was capable of. In spite of it, her little teeth showed, sharp incisors flashing in a botched hiss. The prime poised himself over her carefully with a small grin, fingers still fucking into her with vigor while he rested his weight on his elbow next to her head.

“It’s gonna be okay omega, it’s gonna be okay,” he cooed quietly against her ear, removing his hand only to pull his cock from his pants. “Take deep breaths, baby.”

“Don’t—” She didn’t sound distressed, the omega sounded aroused and desperate, “I—”

“Shhhh,” the prime’s lips skimmed over her cheeks, down her nose while his hand guided his dick up and down her slick folds until he was dripping with her arousal. “I’m gonna take care of you, precious. We’re gonna take care of you.”

The sound that escaped the omega’s lips as he slipped into her was goosebump inducing in the best way. She whined as the head popped in, breath hitching with every millimetre that came thereafter—and there were a lot of them. The omega was squirming, her heels scrambling against the blankets and both Loki and Carol found themselves having to focus much harder than expected on keeping her still while Steve bottomed out.

“You’re doing so well, darling,” Loki cooed, his nose brushing the line of her jaw. “I know it’s a lot but you’re taking it beautifully. Stay still love, just relax we’ll hold you.”

“That’s right ‘mega,” Steve groaned as he withdrew, the squelch of her cunt making his teeth clench. “We’ll do all the work precious, you just have to be a good girl and take my cock.”

It was easier said than done and everyone in the room save Thor was fully aware of that. The omega’s sweet little whines and cries were causing a massive feedback loop of arousal in the pack’s consciousness and Carol was pretty sure she could hear the sounds of several people going at it but she couldn’t pull her gaze away from where Steve’s cock was drilling into that pretty cunt. Evidently said feedback loop was also affecting Steve, who very suddenly growled possessively.

“Carol, Loki, off,” The prime snapped barely hesitating before dropping his elbows into the pillows on either side of the omega’s head, narrowly avoiding giving his pack mates concussions. “Now.”

Both the alpha and the delta were yanked off the bed by their ankles—well, Carol was yanked off the bed. Loki was yanked off the bed and then promptly thrown into the wall by said ankles. The reinforced exterior wall meant there was only a small dent where the god had landed, but the ensuing ruckus had a strong potential of causing even more damage. Thor immediately turned to deal with the problem, along with several other packmates.

Several things occurred in the next few seconds and the pack would probably fight about what really happened for the next twenty years, but somehow Bucky was thrown through the window and Tony’s right ring finger was broken.

And Wanda—poor Wanda, Thor pushed her out of the way before Bucky could accidentally take her through the window with him. The beta was sent flying, sailing across the bed until she hit the unyielding form of Steve. He startled in shock, immediately drawing back to assess her condition—only for a heel to slam directly into his nose. The prime’s head snapped back from the force, big body falling backwards while his hands scrambled for purchase on his face.

The omega probably would’ve even gotten down the stairs if Natasha hadn’t been ascending the stairs at that moment, having heard the commotion from where she and Clint had been putting away groceries. The redhead smelled her before seeing her, a somewhat sinister grin pulling Nat’s lips when the omega ran directly into her while attempting escape #2.

“Now where are you going, kitten? With that mess dripping down your thighs,” the beta cooed, head tilting as she scented the air. “Why can I smell Steve on you, but not his cum?”

There was a horrible, long pause while the omega seemed to consider her options before landing on Go For Broke. She attempted to dodge past Natasha but the beta’s strong arm immediately lashed around her waist, her superior strength making it easy to force her up the stairs even as she refused to hold her own weight.

Steve met them just two steps from the top, dick out and covered in blood. The prime’s expression wasn’t so much angry as it was disappointed and Natasha hummed in false sympathy.

“Someone’s been naughty, huh kitten?”

content warnings: nonconsensual sex, voyeurism