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sleepy-wyvern · 1 year

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His Hummingbird (Miguel O'Hara x female!reader smut)

{Angsty smut oneshot}

Available: here on Tumblr and AO3

WC: ~2.2k [oneshot]

Synopsis: You're a human female who has a boyfriend from another dimension; Spider-Man 2099. Miguel visits your apartment late at night as a surprise after not seeing him for a week.

I HAD TO GET THIS IDEA OUT OF MY HEAD BEFORE I COULD FOCUS ON OTHER FICS IM SORRY ;-;

Inspirations: the song Hummingbird by Metro Bloomin and James Blake and you know the fang scene… man definitely bites 👀

A/N: If y’all want/request more I may write more, otherwise this is a one shot ❤️ leave a comment or reblog if you liked.

Warnings/tags: Angst, Smut (18+ Minors DNI), hickies (lotsa biting), fingering, light begging from reader, p in v (condom), light male whimpering

Disclaimer: I borrowed my spanglish friend for some of the translations here. Feel free to send an ask or comment if something feels off.

Enjoy!

The moon shone bright through the heavy clouds as you wondered where your spider was.

Fighting crime, defeating evil, saving lives, all nothing you could complain about. Another universe, another day, another “business trip.” He used that phrase to try and make you feel better but it couldn’t take away from the fact that one day he may not return. Perhaps if things went bad enough you wouldn’t ever be able to know what happened to him, just spending the rest of your life waiting for someone who would never return. You tried your best to shove the thought away as you fiddled with the window latch.

You pushed open the window widely to get whatever cool night air you could in your little city apartment. As the hot summer days neared closer you took solace in the cold rainy night. The sound of the rain and the city traffic was oddly comforting.

You turned and walked toward the kitchen sink opposite of the room figuring you'd at least try to get some chores done. It was a small-ish apartment the size of a hotel room really. The biggest room was the merged kitchen and living room. Still, it was familiar enough space for you to sense the presence behind you.

The moment you turned your back you heard the window blinds gently tap against the window pane; anyone else would’ve thought that had been the wind. Anyone else without a spider person lover anyways.

“Do spiders ever use the door?” You spoke without turning around, instead you turned the faucet on to do the dishes.

“You should start locking that window at night,” his gruff voice was directly behind you.

“Miguel,” you sighed, twisting the tap off before turning around.

It had been a week since his last visit, the longest ever since you started “seeing” each other. You hadn’t put a label on anything yet, what could you call a lover from another dimension that could never stay with you?

Every time you saw him after a prolonged period you were intimidated by how he stood over you. He hadn’t meant to be intimidating as his mask was already removed, yet it was hard to ignore his height and size of his build especially when he had to look down at you.

“Nobody can enter a 4th story window,” you smiled. “Just you.”

Despite that you were angry he was gone for so long your heart melted at the sight of his brown locks falling gracefully over his forehead. He wore his blue and red spider suit as he always did when traveling.

He wrapped his large arms around your waist, pulling you close into his hot embrace. He planted a kiss on your forehead.

“Te extrañé…” He trailed off as he pulled back to look into your eyes.

He held his hands against your face when you eyed his bracelet; the thing that let him stay here with you without “glitching out.” It was a grim reminder of what could never be. Despite the comfort you got from his rough hands against your soft face, it made you sad.

“I missed you too,” you sighed, overlapping his hand with your smaller one.

The bracelet was cool to the touch as you frowned. “Where have you been?” You scolded, “You told me you’d be back by Monday. It’s Friday!”

“I’m sorry,” he sighed furrowing his brows. “It’s work.”

“It always is,” You turn around putting your hands on the smooth countertop.

“I’ll make it up to you,” he offered, sounding sad and hopeful.

You knew he didn’t mean to make you worry or make you sad. You both wished things were different. It would make it so much easier. You knew though that if he could change things he would and you didn’t want to hold what was out of his control against him. It wasn’t his fault you were born in different worlds, different universes. It didn’t help that you weren’t a spider person either.

You felt his hands gently against your waist as he moved closer to you.

“I'm sorry." He sighed. "Mi pequeña colibrí…” he whispered into your ear. His breath was hot and heavy against your neck sending shivers down your body.

“Oh stop, you can’t use the español to make me feel better! No fair!” You laughed.

He placed a kiss on your ear that tickled before you spun back around, wrapping your arms over his shoulders.

“My spiderman,” You giggled as his look of concern melted into happiness. "I'm not mad at you. Just try to let me know if you'll be late next time."

The corner of his lips turned upward ever so slightly in relief. "I promise."

Another thing that was likely yours only; Miguel’s smile. When Jessica met you she was surprised you were even real. She warned you to not mention much of Miguel’s personal life activities to the other spider people but it was hard to remember. Once you accidentally mentioned the flowers on your table were from Miguel to Gwen she nearly fainted. You adored the way he treated you special even if you weren’t sure why he chose you. You could never be mad at him for something he couldn't control.

He brushed his thumbs in a circular motion against your waist as he held you. His dark eyes were full of love as he looked down at you.

You ran your fingers back through his brown hair. He seemed to sigh beneath your touch, it was thrilling in a way to know he was comfortable enough around you to let his guard down. Nobody else could see Miguel the way you did.

“You need to stop being so stressed. Relax more.” You sighed bringing your fingers to his forehead. “Grumpy wrinkles.”

He chuckled low as he held you tightly. He brought his face down into your neck to inhale the sweet scent of your perfume that he loved so much.

“I know what helps with that,” his voice was deep and silky and fuck it made your body melt.

You giggled as his sweet kisses turned into loving nibbles. He was careful to not hurt you with his fangs but he knew how much you loved his gentle biting. You had a hunch he loved it as much as you did. On top of that it’s been a week without it and damn you missed him.

You let his touch overwhelm you as he held you, softly biting against your delicate skin. His body tensed against you the moment you let out a small pleasurable gasp.

“Hm,” He huffed deeply as he pulled back. “I forgot my strength. I’m sorry, mi colibrí.”

He brought his fingers up to your neck, wiping away the wetness before examining the hickie left behind.

“That’s what makeup is for,” you reassured. “Now, you have a week to make up for…”

“No better time to start than now,” he knocked off the stack of papers that were laying on the countertop.

Before you could react he grabbed your hips, lifting you into the air. You let out a faint gasp as you wrapped your legs around him.

“Miguel!” You scolded as he smirked at you, placing you on the empty countertop space. “Naughty, what has become of you?” You teased him.

“You have become of me,” he pressed his hot lips against yours hungrily.

He brought his hands around to the back of your head holding you close so he could kiss you deeply. It wasn’t long before you could feel his cool tongue against your lips. You opened your mouth letting him in, his cold mouth meeting your warm one.

You brought your hands to his shoulders feeling the fabric of his suit. Eagerly you moved your fingers to his back, grasping for the zipper. You rotated between feeling the muscles of his back and fumbling with the damn zipper making your kisses turn sloppy.

“Eager aren’t we?” He laughed low and deep in his throat, it wasn’t a mocking tone. In fact you knew he loved it.

He shimmied his shoulders out of the suit and it took all of your power not to basically drool over him. You wasted no time bringing your hands to feel his hot skin, tracing your fingers lovingly over the scars on his chest.

You buried your fingers in his hair as your lips met again. The man loves to kiss you, almost as much as he loves to bite you. He took the opportunity to switch to biting your neck whenever you pulled back to breathe.

He slowly brought his fingers underneath the hem of your shirt, running his calloused fingers along your silky smooth torso. You separated from him only long enough to remove the pesky fabric of your top before diving back into him again.

You could feel the bulge in his underwear against your leg as he leaned forward to undo the clasp of your bra. He brought his large hands to your breasts lovingly cupping and massaging them. Goosebumps rose against his skin at the sound of your soft, lustful moans.

“More baby,” you whispered.

He brought his lips to your nipple, his hair tickling your chest. You tilted your head down letting yourself get lost in the scent of his shampoo while he planted wet kisses against your stiff nipple. His grabs on your body slowly turned more rough as you felt his teeth against your skin.

“More,” you demand. It’s been a week and damn you wanted him more than anything.

He hooked his fingers underneath the soft fabric of your leggings and panties as you shimmied to help. Your body shivered as the fabric pooled to the floor. Miguel looked at your body with a mixture of awe and hunger- a deep lust filled hunger.

He brought his index and middle finger to your entrance, smiling when he felt how wet you were.

“You really did miss me huh, mi pequeña colibrí?”

You nodded “mmm’, yes I did. Need you, Miguel.” You whined feeling him circle your entrance.

He wasn’t cruel to make you wait as he plunged his fingers in. Your back arched as you gasped, spreading your legs desperate for him deeper. Feeling his fingers arch against your walls and watching the movements of his wrist as he pleased you was intoxicating.

Still you wanted more.

“Please, baby,” you whimpered.

Your body whined when he stopped and pulled his fingers out.

“What is it, cariño?” His voice purred. He brought his fingers to his lips, rolling his tongue over your sweetness.

“You,” your lip quivered as you shuddered from the cool apartment air. “Please.”

You knew this was a game he could normally play for a long time. Not today though, neither of you could handle it. Instead your heart raced as he nodded to the kitchen drawer where you kept the condoms since counter sex had become a more regular activity.

He brought his large, hard cock out of his boxers, stroking lightly. You swallowed at the sight wondering how you could ever take him.

He smirked at your expression “are you afraid?”

You shook your head, reaching your hands out to his broad shoulders trying to bring him closer. You fumbled with the condom, bringing your hands to his hot cock. He gasped lightly as your hands held him him, rolling the condom down over him.

He lined his tip against your entrance, soaking himself in your juices and teasing you just a little.

“Are you ready?” He whispered and for the first time tonight you heard his voice start to shake.

You bit your lip as you nodded “I am.”

He slowly slid himself in as you let out a moan of tight, firey pressure. The moment he was fully inside you both let out a gasp; you both waited so long for this moment. You wrapped your arms around him as he buried his face in the crook of your neck while you got used to the feeling of all of him inside.

He waited for you to nod and give him the okay to continue. He planted a kiss on your cheek as he pulled out slightly before thrusting in again. You spread your legs further apart, moaning at the next deeper thrust. You grasped at the muscles of his back for an anchor.

“Just like that, cariño,” He whispered, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

He thrusted against, harder and faster as you felt your pleasure start to build. He kept a lovely, steady pace and you knew it wouldn’t be long until you reached your climax.

“Oh Miguel,” you moaned, making him shiver. “Baby, I’m close.”

You grasped at his back desperate to have more of him. His heavy breaths and grunts sent electricity through you while his cock pressed lovingly against that sweet spot.

“Don’t move,” his voice was a quiet whimper while you held him.

Fuck, hearing him whimper always sent you feral but you did your best to keep still while he pounded into your tight cunt. Your back arched as the waves of pleasure crashed down into a lovely orgasm.

“You feel so good,” he whispered in your ear.

You knew he was close and you wrapped your legs around him not letting him go.

“I’m, I’m-“ his voice broke off as you felt his cock twitch inside of you.

His arms held you tightly to him as you were wrapped around him lovingly. The heat of your bodies, the feeling of his heart beating and the rise and fall of his chest as he heavily breathed through the pleasure… Despite that soon he’d have to leave again these moments are what make it worth it.

"Te amo," his voice was a husky whisper as he held you.

For now, you got to enjoy the warm embrace of your spider.

===

💙💙💙💙

Thanks so much for reading, let me know if you enjoyed with any comments/reblogs, I appreciate them all!

-Wyv

#miguel spiderman #across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara #miguel x reader #miguel x female!reader #miguel o'hara smut #miguel ohara #miguel o'hara x female!reader smut #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x female!reader #miguel ohara imagine #miguel o'hara imagine #fan fic #fan fics #fan fiction #fan fictions

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justagalwhowrites · 5 months

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Yearling - Ch. 35: Answers

You leave Jackson to find your daughters. A continuation of Yearling ch. 1-34 found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

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

Length: 5.4k

A/N: We are into the final arc of Yearling and we are going to see some TLOU 2 OVERLAP again. There isn't any this chapter but there will be in this arc and here's how: a character from that game will be mentioned as will the spoiler-y incident from a few chapters ago. What happens plot wise in this arc is completely separate from the game and entirely original content BUT there is that character overlap and more specific mentions of the incident and the motives behind it. If you're trying to go in blind to season 2, it might be wise to step back. Feel free to send me a DM, I'm happy to answer any and all questions!

AO3 | Chapter One | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

It was hard not to panic when the world was ending.

You’d lived through it enough by now, you thought you’d get used to it.

You never did.

“Who has them, Kyle?” You asked, holding the boy’s shoulders, searching his eyes. He was still panting for breath, still looking terrified. “I need you to focus, who has them.”

“That man, the one who was here a few months ago but left,” he said. “I can’t… He gave me so much to remember and I can’t…”

“Cody?” You asked quickly, even though you knew you were right, your chest tight. “Does that sound right?”

“Yeah,” he nodded quickly. “Yes, Cody, it was Cody, he has them. He sent me here, to find you. He told me to bring you and just you back, said if we came with anyone else he’d kill them. I’m so sorry, Mrs. Miller, I was just trying to help, I swear…”

Your head spun but you didn’t have time to try to calm yourself down or even come up with a fucking plan.

“Did he say why?” You asked, leaving the teenager hovering in your doorway as you went to your kitchen. You found a notebook and ripped a piece of paper out of it, the pen hovering over it for a moment. Like once you wrote what was going to happen there was no turning back.

“He said you owed him,” he said. “And he that he would collect with them if it wasn’t with you. He said you’d know what that meant.”

You held the pen a little tighter. You did know what he meant and you knew the kind of man Cody was, what he would take if you let him.

You couldn’t let him.

“Kyle, go in the closet by the front door,” you said, wondering how your voice wasn’t shaking. “There’s my patrol pack in there, it has my flashlight, my axe and my knife. Get them.”

It wasn’t going to be enough but you didn’t have guns in the house and getting one would require talking to someone else, something you couldn’t risk, not when it was Savvy and Ellie on the line. You’d have to make do.

You tried to think of what to say to Joel, the man you loved more than you ever thought it was possible to love someone like that. How did you say goodbye to someone who meant that much to you when you didn’t want to leave?

You did the best you could, signing your name - your real one - for the first time since you’d married Joel.

“Found them,” Kyle said as you folded the paper in half and wrote Joel’s name on one side of it, leaving the note leaning against the flowers that he had picked for you before leaving town. You looked around the kitchen, at the spot on the counter where you perched as your husband cooked for you and the table where you sat with him and took a deep breath, hoping you’d see it all again.

“You know where to go, right?” You asked.

“Yeah,” he nodded. “I memorized it.”

“OK,” you said, clipping your knife to your belt, thankful that you’d just fallen asleep fully clothed so you didn’t have to stop to get dressed. You were in one of Joel’s shirts. You always were, when he was outside Jackson, when he promised to come home to you. “Lead the way.”

You followed Kyle through the dark, quiet town. Even the Tipsy Bison was silent and you realized you weren’t sure what time it was but it had to be late, at least 3 a.m.

“We’ll have to sneak out,” Kyle said, his voice low. “It’s what we did when…”

You couldn’t think about it.

“Show me.”

There was an area of the fence, covered by a woodpile and not far from the schoolhouse, that easily pried apart, leaving enough room for a person to slip outside.

Kyle climbed through first and held it for you to follow before the two of you scrambled for the nearest tree line, hoping that you made it out of town unnoticed.

“How far?” You asked, looking back over your shoulder, your heart pounding.

“Three hours, I think,” he said. “I’m so sorry Mrs. Miller…”

“Tell me all of it,” you said, ignoring his apology. It didn’t matter now. “I need to know what we’re walking into.”

It made so much sense when he laid it out for you.

Savvy and Ellie had snuck out of Jackson the first night Joel was gone, the friends they were hanging out with apparently slipping out regularly. They stashed some pot outside the walls and liked to go sit and smoke when they thought they wouldn’t get into trouble, where they felt like they had some freedom. It was so typical of teenagers, it was almost funny. That even in the apocalypse, in a place like Jackson, the children found ways to rebel. Kyle and Savvy had wandered off from the group. They didn’t go far, just far enough that they felt like they had some privacy. Kyle wanted to ask her to the dance that was happening in a few weeks.

That’s where they ran into Cody.

He’d been nice, at first. Asking after Jackson, how things had been there. How he was thinking about trying to come back. He asked for information, enough that Savvy was starting to feel skeptical.

And then Ellie found them.

Ellie was worried, thinking that Savvy had been off on her own with a boy a little too long, and set off to find them. But she’d snapped when she saw Cody. She was a smart girl, she didn’t leave Jackson unarmed and she put her knife to Cody’s throat.

He’d just smiled, something in his eyes that made Kyle uneasy, more uneasy than Ellie’s knife did.

“Should fucking kill you right now,” Ellie had said, getting in his face. “Joel never should have let you live, I don’t give a fuck what she says…”

“Ellie!” Savvy tried to go for her but Kyle stopped her, catching her around her waist and holding her back. “You can’t just kill him, he hasn’t done anything!”

“Should listen to your sister, little girl,” Cody smirked. “I don’t come back, there’s a whole new set of problems for that perfect little town of yours.”

“Fuck you,” Ellie spat.

“You that serious?” He asked. “Come and get me. Tomorrow night. Bring your mom.” He’d looked at Savvy in a way that made Kyle feel sick. “And get your sister on board. Something tells me she might not know the real reason I left Jackson.”

Cody walked away then, Ellie’s grip still tight on the knife for a minute before she put an arm around Savvy and stalked back off toward town. Kyle couldn’t hear what they were saying.

When they made it back as dawn was on the horizon, he still wasn’t sure what set Ellie off. He wasn’t sure when Ellie and Savvy came to him the next afternoon, either, to ask him to go with them to find Cody that night.

“I want to have the upper hand,” Ellie had said. “And you already know about him.”

Savvy looked different then, something set and angry on her face. Kyle tried to ask her what was wrong but she wouldn’t tell him. He just went along with their plan, Ellie and Savvy out for Cody’s blood and Kyle wanting to keep the girl he was starting to fall for safe.

But they made a mistake.

They were outnumbered from the start, Cody bringing a dozen men to capture them. Ellie killed one as Kyle tried to run with Savvy but they failed.

“Thought I told you to bring your mom,” Cody had said. “But that’s OK. Sure we can work something out.”

He hauled the three of them away, walking a few hours into the forest, before sending Kyle back to Jackson to get you.

It explained so much of what had happened over the last day. The cagey way Ellie and Savvy were talking in the mess hall, the way Savvy had hugged you - Ellie had to have told her something - like she hadn’t in months, the odd way they were acting when you checked on them that night.

“How many men were there?” You asked.

“A lot,” Kyle said. “I don’t know for sure. At least 12 to grab us, we met up with probably another dozen or so after that…”

“Right,” you said, your heart clenching. You weren’t making it out of this. You tried to resign yourself to that, that the best you could hope for right now was getting the kids out in one piece. “Did he say what he wanted?”

“Besides you?” Kyle asked. “No. I’m sorry, Mrs. Miller…”

“It’s OK,” you said, trying to keep him calm. “You did your best, you stayed alive, that’s the important thing.”

The two of you walked in silence for a while, your heart pounding the whole time. You focused on getting to the girls. That’s all that mattered. You tried not to think about what was waiting for you on the other side of it.

“When we find them, let me do the talking,” you said as the sunrise tinted the horizon red. “And stay behind me. If you see a chance to get Savvy or Ellie away, do it. Otherwise, do what I tell you.”

“Yes ma’am,” he said, a tremble in his voice. “I’m really sorry, Mrs. Miller, I didn’t mean…”

“I know,” you said quietly. “Just get them home.”

You caught a glimpse of someone moving in the woods then, just on the edge of your vision, your head whipping around to track the motion on instinct. It was baked into you still, moving through the forest alone, being on guard, knowing when you were being watched. You’d survived most of your life that way and years in Jackson hadn’t pulled it out of you. The second you realized it was a man and not an animal, you adjusted your grip on your axe with one hand and reached behind you with the other, shifting your body so you were between Kyle and the man.

It took you half a second to place his familiar face, one of Mitchum’s henchmen who was low enough that he wasn’t allowed to touch you, a slow smirk spreading over his face.

“Well ain’t you a sight for sore eyes,” he emerged from a fern and gave a long, low whistle. “Mitchum’s been lookin’ for you.”

“Bet he’s been lookin’ for you, too,” your hold on the axe tightened. You wanted to kill him but you couldn’t, not when you didn’t know where Ellie and Savvy were. “Unless you’re still his little bitch. But I don’t think he took too kindly to you taking off on him to serve some other asshole.”

“You always did have a mouth on you,” he said, trees and brush at your back starting to rustle. “But look where that got you.”

“And you were up his ass for how long?” You asked. “Where’d that get you, exactly?”

His eyes narrowed and you tracked where you were hearing movement around you, the sound drawing closer. Kyle’s shaky hand grabbed at your bicep.

“Don’t think the boss would be too happy with you picking a fight with our biggest commodity,” a man said from behind you. Kyle gasped and you felt him jump but you kept your eyes on the first man. “You know what he wants with her.”

“And what’s that, exactly?” You called over your shoulder, still tracking where Kyle was with your unoccupied hand.

“Leverage, of course,” the man came around to the front of you, smirking just like his friend. You didn’t recognize him. “Mitchum has the biggest operation around these parts and you, it seems, are the only thing he wants that he doesn’t have. Give him you on a silver platter? We get first pick of new territory.”

He looked you up and down in a way that reminded you of inspecting livestock. Your stomach turned.

“Don’t really see what all the fuss is about but,” he shrugged. “Don’t really give a shit.”

“You got my girls?” You asked, cutting to the chase.

His smile grew.

“So the boss was right,” he shook his head a little. “You women, so predictable…”

“If they’re not in one piece, I got no reason to leave you two idiots alive,” you snapped, losing your patience. You needed to see your daughters and you needed to see them now. “So if you don’t want my axe in your goddamn chest, you’re gonna take me to them right fucking now.”

He licked his lips.

“Might get the fuss a little more now,” he said, stepping close to you. He knew he had you, knew that you wouldn’t do anything that would risk Savvy or Ellie. “Gonna need that axe and knife and anything else you got on you or the boy. Then we’ll see if we can’t find your girls.”

You narrowed your eyes but surrendered your weapons anyway.

“Mrs. Miller…” Kyle whispered but you shushed him.

“I’ll keep you safe,” you glanced behind you toward him. “Stay calm and do what they tell you.”

You turned your attention back to the men in front of you, more emerging from the trees now.

“If you’ve hurt either of them, you have no idea the shit storm you just brought down on your heads.”

“Not much of a threat without your little toys,” he looked them over. “Something tells me we can take you just fine unarmed.”

“Cody tell you what I did to the men who tried to catch me last time I got out?” You asked, brows raised. For half a moment, there was a flash of concern on the first man’s face. You nodded to him. “He knows. Take me to my girls before you find out first hand.”

The second man quirked his jaw before jerking his head in the direction you’d been walking.

“Keep up.”

You only needed to follow them another 15 minutes or so, your heart pounding the whole time. Eventually, you came upon a clearing, a fire dying at the center of it with Cody standing right behind it, watching you approach with a satisfied smirk on his face.

“Hey there baby doll,” he said, prowling around the fire to meet you. “You don’t look too happy to see me.”

“Where are my daughters.”

He ignored you, like you hadn’t spoken at all.

“You’d think that, after last time, you’d learn…”

“Where are my daughters.”

“…that you should at least pretend to be grateful when you see me…”

Your patience was gone. If he didn’t have Ellie and Savvy, there was no point to this. No point to his game, no point to trying to make it out alive. You needed to see them and you needed to see them now.

The man at your left had a handgun in a holster on his right, one he wasn’t paying close attention to, his hands on his rifle that was strapped across his body. You, on the other hand, had paid attention.

You went for the gun, moving fast enough that he didn’t know what was happening until he felt the tug of you pulling the weapon from his side, turning to face you with a frown on his face after you freed the revolver, pulling the hammer back as you raised it and pulled the trigger. He dropped, Kyle screaming in shock at your back, and you turned the gun on Cody, pulling the hammer back again.

“WHERE ARE MY FUCKING KIDS!”

You could feel every gun and eye turn to you as you fought to control your breathing, the sound of birds taking flight the only sound beyond the echo of the gunshot and your scream. But you knew they wouldn’t shoot you, not when you were apparently so valuable to their boss and their boss was still breathing. And if they were smart, the wouldn’t hurt Savvy or Ellie, either.

“You know you wouldn’t make it out of here alive,” Cody said, stepping closer, until the barrel of the gun was in his chest.

“You think that matters if they’re gone?” You asked, brows raised. “If you killed them, all that matters is that I kill as many of you as I can before you take me down and I’m a damn good shot. So. Give me my daughters or another one of these fuckers dies.”

He gave you a cocky smirk and whistled. There was rustling somewhere you couldn’t see but, after a moment, three men brought out Savvy and Ellie, bound and gagged. You clenched your jaw but stayed still, eyes ranging over them as quickly as you could, looking for all signs of injury. They were still dressed, a good sign. Ellie had a cut at her forehead, Savvy had a bloody bandage at her arm. You clenched your fist on the revolver.

“See?” Cody said. “All in one piece. Now, hand over the gun before we have to change that.”

Ellie’s eyes went wide and she shook her head at you, frantic, but you ignored her.

“Untie them,” you said, gun still in his chest.

“Gonna need a little more incentive than that,” he said. “I know how you are with people who do you favors…”

“Untie them,” you said again, pulling your eyes away from the girls to meet his. “Let me talk to them, make sure they’re OK, then let them go with their friend. And I mean let them go, your men stay where I can fuckin’ see ‘em. You do that? I’ll do whatever you want.”

“Whatever I want?” He asked, looking you up and down.

Your stomach turned.

“You heard me,” you spat.

He mulled it over for a second before smiling, cocky.

“Deal,” he said, jerking his head toward one of his men. They moved to untie Savvy and Ellie. “I’ll take that gun now.”

You lowered the weapon and turned it around in your hand before holding it out to him, handle first. He took it.

“Good as you are, don’t know if I ever thought your pussy was worth all the fuss Mitchum made over you,” he said, handing the gun to one of his henchmen. “But damn if it ain’t fun to watch you break.”

“Mom!” Savvy was freed first, running for you and throwing her arms around your neck. You clutched onto her, clinging to her, breathing in the scent of her, floral with a hint of apple and hay and gunpowder. “I’m so sorry, Mom, I’m so sorry…”

“It’s OK,” your voice was thick and you tried to focus on how she felt in your arms so you could hold onto that memory before stepping back from her. “Are you OK? They touch you?”

“I’m fine,” she sniffed. “They got my arm a little but…”

“They haven’t touched you since you’ve been here?” You asked, brows raised. “No one’s hurt you or…”

“No,” she shook her head. “No, they tied us up but they haven’t done anything.”

“Good,” you nodded, brushing her thick curls back from her forehead. “That’s good.”

Ellie approached you cautiously, like she was waiting for you to yell at her but you didn’t. You didn’t even want to, there was no point to it. Instead, you pulled her into your arms and held her tight as she pressed her face into your shoulder. You tried to remember her, too, the daughter who came into your life so late and that you desperately wanted more time with.

“I’m sorry,” she said, voice thick and wet. “I thought I could handle it, I thought…”

“S’OK,” you said, stepping back from her and looking her over, too. Her lip was split and the blood at her forehead was dried, the cut there scabbing over. “Ellie, I need you to listen to me. You’re in charge, OK? You’re going to get Savvy and Kyle back to Jackson…”

“But -”

“No,” you said, harsher than you really meant. “This ain’t a discussion, this is me telling you what you’re going to do, do you understand me.”

“I can’t just leave you here!” Her eyes were wide and desperate and you forced yourself to be calm.

“Yes, you can,” you said, taking her by the shoulders. “Ellie, the most important thing you can do right now is take care of your sister, do you understand me?” She nodded. “You get her and Kyle back to town. You’ve patrolled, you know how to do it safely. Get them there. That’s your job, they are your responsibility. Promise me you’ll get them home.”

She looked like she wanted to argue but you held her tighter.

“Ellie,” you said. “Promise me.”

“But…”

“Promise me!” You yelled it, loud enough that you saw Savvy flinch out of the corner of your eye.

“I promise,” she said, crying now.

It was like a weight lifted. You knew it was hours back to Jackson but, if Ellie actually kept her word, they’d make it. They would be safe. That was all that mattered.

“Thank you,” you pulled her in for another hug, kissing her cheek as you did. “I love you so much. Take care of yourself and your dad for me, OK?”

“I love you too,” she breathed.

You gave her a final squeeze and went for Savvy who was fighting back tears.

“Mom,” her voice was thick and wet. “I can’t…”

“Yes, you can,” you said gently. “Go with Ellie, do what she tells you and you’ll get back safe. Listen to Joel, stick with school, find your place in Jackson. Have a good life, OK?”

She shook her head.

“I don’t want to do it without you,” she’d given up on not crying now. “I tried to before and I don’t want that, you need to be there, Mom, I need you, I…”

“Savvy,” you said, holding her face in your hands, brushing her tear-streaked cheeks with your thumbs. “Everything I’ve done for as long as you’ve been mine has been for you but you don’t need me now. You’re all that matters. You get back safe, you have a good life with people you love. You do that and I’ll have done everything I needed to do. So give me that, OK?”

You didn’t give her a chance to reply, just pulling her in close and holding her there, kissing her cheek as you did.

“I love you so much, baby girl,” you whispered.

“I love you, too,” she said.

You stepped back and looked at them for a moment before casting a glance at Cody.

“They need weapons.”

“That wasn’t part of the deal.”

You rounded on him.

“Give them weapons,” you said through clenched teeth. “Or I’ll kill as many of your men as I can between here and Mitchum.”

He smirked a little before jerking his head in the direction of one of his men. They surrendered knives you recognized - ones you were sure Ellie and Savvy had come here with - and your axe.

“Better get going,” Cody said. “Before I change my mind.”

You just nodded and watched them go, Ellie and Savvy looking back at you as long as they could, Ellie pulling Savvy along side her as they went. You kept looking at the place where they’d been long after you couldn’t see them anymore.

“Alright Doll,” Cody said eventually, stepping forward with cuffs in his hands. “Wrists together. Not about to risk you changing your mind on that deal. You’re a little too valuable and it’s time for me to cash in.”

***

“Joel.”

Tommy sounded desperate. Joel ignored him.

“You can’t just take off…”

Tommy’s hand came to Joel’s shoulder but he ripped it off, rounding on his brother, moving quickly and decisively and backing the younger, smaller man into a building.

“You tryin’ to tell me I can’t protect my family?” Joel towered over him. “You gonna try and stop me?”

“Can’t do shit for them if you run out there hot headed,” Tommy said, his eyes darting over Joel’s face, like he was watching a wild animal. “You can’t help them if you’re dead, you need to wait, you need a plan…”

“I have a fuckin’ plan!” He didn’t have time for this. “Get my girls back. Don’t try to fuckin’ stop me.”

“Joel,” Maria’s voice was behind him, calm and collected. He turned to face her, ready to go through her, too, if he had to. “We have everyone out looking for them, there are no fresh horses because we sent everyone we had as soon as we could. We’re looking for their trail but they could be anywhere. Wait until we have people back to go with you, wait until we know where they went. If you run off now, you’re only going to make it worse. You’ll waste time. Give it a few hours, Joel.”

“A few hours?” He bit out. “You want me to sit here for a few fuckin’ hours while that monster has my wife and kids? Expect me to let him hurt them for hours while I fuckin’ wait?”

Maria didn’t have a chance to respond, the sound of chaos at the gate sending the three of them running for it.

Joel reached it just as three horses rode up. It took him a moment to realize they each carried more than one rider. His heart pounded. For one second - a glorious, peaceful second - he thought everything was going to be OK. That they’d found you and the girls before anything bad happened, that he was going to be able to hold the three of you close and never let you go again.

And then he realized that you weren’t there. That you’d gotten the children you shared with him back but you hadn’t made it.

“Joel!” Ellie jumped off her horse before it had fully stopped. “Joel, he has Bambi, we have to go get her, we have to.”

She threw her arms around his neck and clung to him and he could feel her taking shaky breaths.

“It’s OK Baby Girl,” he said, holding her close. “I’ve got you, you’re OK.”

“We have to go get her,” Ellie said again, frantic as she pulled back from him. “We have to.”

Joel, Tommy and Maria led the girls and a trembling Kyle to the clinic. Ellie and Savvy didn’t wait for the doctor to be done looking them over as they sat beside each other on the exam table, the story spilling out of them quickly. How they’d lied to you and snuck out of Jackson the first night he was gone. How they’d run into Cody in the woods. How Ellie threatened to kill him and Savvy didn’t understand why. How he told them to come back the next night with you. How Ellie had told Savvy everything she knew about what happened to you. How Savvy wanted to leave then and there to take care of it and Ellie had to make her wait, confident that they could handle him. How Ellie had killed men like him before, how she was sure she could do it again. How they got help from Kyle to be sure. How it had all gone to shit the second they were too far from Jackson to get help. How you’d come for them, how you’d sacrificed yourself to get the three of them out safely.

How Joel knew that’s exactly what you would do.

Because of course you would. It was exactly what he would have done. How would you have done anything else?

“We need to get her back, Joel,” Savvy was crying, pleading. “We can’t leave her there with him, we can’t, please…”

Joel looked between the two of them. He wanted to scream. He wanted to ask why. Why had they snuck out? Why had they tried to take matters into their own hands? Why had they put themselves in such danger? Didn’t they know, if they failed, you’d have no choice? That you would do anything for them? That he would, too?

But yelling and questioning wouldn’t do any good. What was done was done. Taking his fear out on them would only make shit worse.

“I’m gonna get her back, Baby Girl,” Joel said. “I’m gonna bring her home.”

He turned and gave Tommy a look, half begging for help, half daring him to stop him. Tommy just squared his jaw and gave him a single, firm nod. Joe returned it and the went to leave, but Ellie stopped them, catching them on the porch of the clinic.

“I’m coming, too.”

“No,” Joel shook his head. “No, you’re stayin’ here…”

“No,” she said sharply, a fierce look in her eyes. “I’m going. I can help, I know…”

“It don’t matter,” Joel cut her off. “Not putting you at risk…”

“I don’t care about the risk!” She snapped. “You can’t just expect me to sit here on my ass while she’s out there…”

“You think she’d want you gettin’ hurt for her?” Joel grabbed Ellie by the shoulders and held her tighter than he should. “She took care of you by…”

“By cleaning up a fucking mess I made!” She yelled before closing her eyes for a moment, a single tear slipping down her cheek. She took a deep, centering breath before opening her eyes again, voice calmer now. “I never had parents, Joel. I never had anyone who loved me like that until you and then she showed up and she didn’t have any fucking reason to care about me like that but she did. She’s my mom and I got her hurt because I tried to handle shit on my own. I’m not handling it on my own now, I’m handling it with you. I know what you’re capable of. I know what you’re going to do. I’m telling you that I don’t want to be here when you do it, I want to be with you. I want to get her back and I want to make him fucking pay and I can’t do that from Jackson. So are you going to let me come with you or are you going to make me sneak out and try to handle this shit on my own again?”

Joel looked to his brother. He’d done shit like this more times than he cared to count but only twice with stakes as high as this. Every time, it was either alone or with Tommy at his side. He knew he wouldn’t be able to do what he normally did with Ellie there. He’d be worrying about her, watching for her, protecting her.

But they were out numbered and Ellie was a strong rider who was smart and good with a gun.

“She’s an adult, Joel,” Tommy said hesitantly. Joel could see in his eyes that he was thinking about William, if he would let his son do something so reckless if he had any say. “And she does a good job on patrol.”

Joel took a deep breath.

“You gotta listen,” he said. Ellie was already nodding quickly. “Do what I say so I can keep us all safe. I tell you to get back to Jackson, you do it. If you’re a liability out there, you’re makin’ things worse for her, not better. Got it?”

“Yes.”

“Repeat it.”

“What you say goes,” she said, watching him closely. “I won’t fuck up, Dad. I promise.”

In another time, another place, Joel’s heart would have soared in that moment. Just knowing that Ellie saw him the same way he saw her made him feel complete in a way he didn’t realize he was missing.

But he wasn’t able to enjoy it. There was another vital piece of him that was gone, one he was going to get back if it was the last thing he ever did.

“OK,” he said, looking at Ellie. “Let’s go get your mom.”

Next Chapter

A/N: Figured we'd kick off the more feral part of this fic with some Feral!Bambi. Don't worry, Feral!Joel fans, he's up next ❤️ As always, thank you so so much for reading and for sticking it out with this fic! I know it's been a long one. I'm glad you're still here. Love you!

Taglist: @ashleymsnodgrass@planet-marz1@kalea-bane @juneswonderlust @ilovepedro @h-annahayy @starstruckmusiciansartghost @beccerjune @mumma-moonchild @netonetoneto @mellymbee @purplelye @n7cje @flugazi @evyiione @randomhoex @aliengirl99 @orcasoul @reds-ramblings @pedropascalsbbg @fupoola @tinypotatothing @knopes-waffles @lilmizmoz @ayamenimthiriel @jenispunk @panda-pascal @sarap-77 @flugazi @your-slutty-gf @daniegraceg @partyofone3413 @cumberpegg @noisynightmarepoetry. @fifia-writes @grumpygrumperton @srmacaroni @txlady37 @bigboiseason123 @ashleyfilm @arizonadreamingg

#fanfic #joel miller x female reader #yearling #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x oc

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ataraxixx · 1 year

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AJAX 1K DTIYS!!yayyyyyyyy

(flats under the cut btw)

hey guys. heres that dtiys i promised for 900 followers and waited so long to make i ended up getting 100 more followers. so this is a 1k follower dtiys now. sorry. anyway. THANKS FOR 1K FOLLOWERS? you guys are awesome i appreciate the support for my insanity. to honor that insanity i have made a dtiys of the 3 characters i am most insane about(shocking nobody) lets go papaya nation👻⚙️👹!!!!

le RULES?

> draw morro harumi and echo together.....idrc if theyre watching tv like in the drawing tbh i just did that because i wanted to draw it. feel free to use the drawing as inspiration for your own artwork but dont feel limited . just make sure to include those 3 interacting at minimum! you can include other chars if u want too idrc but the focus is this trio

> umm that being said no morro x harumi. thanks. i dont care in terms of anything else if u wanna make it platonic or romantic but keep that one out of here pls🙏

> doesnt have to be my designs! feel free to use ur own designs for the characters as long as u include all 3 of them. u can do a mixture or something too idgaf. get silly with it

> tag me & include #ajax1kdtiys on the post because tumblr sucks a lot sometimes

> EDIT: entries due november 15th now bc i had a couple ppl ask for an extension and also im really busy rn lel💀

prizes???

guys i foyght for my life in the trenches last time trying to decide winners so we're doing it a different way now. im just gonna assign every entry a number and draw straws if youre cool with that. its much easier i think..

so basically i am just gonna pull 3 random names out of the hat and all winners will get 1 fullbody drawing of their choice!! no first second third etc thats too complicated 4 me. i mostly just want this to be for fun for anyone interested in participating:)

FINAL NOTES if anyone has any questions feel free to DM me or send an ask. the flats for the drawing are included below for reference. byeee

#ajax art #ninjago #ajax1kdtiys #morro wu #echo julien #papaya trio #yahooooo #i heart them #post crystallized au #harumi yamada

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fakeboysfixed · 2 months

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I’ve suddenly got so so into detrans kink and just needed to say this somewhere - because I found detrans tumblr through this blog I figured this was as good a place as any to make myself confess so I’ll always know I’ve admitted I want this

I’ve been flirting with detrans content for months, usually on twitter, telling myself I’m getting off to it because I’m imagining doing it to someone else, because there’s no way I could be into this - I’ve been transitioning for years, I’m intersex so my body has taken to testosterone like nothing else, I’m stealth, my top surgery scars are basically invisible.

last week, I woke up in the middle of the night to my husband on top of me - we’re both v into somno, so far so normal - and I could tell he was still half-asleep, his instincts were taking over from whatever he was dreaming about and he needed to relieve some tension.

my husband has another partner, who uses she/her pronouns.

as he pressed my face into his chest and spread my legs, felt me stop struggling and relax into what was happening to me, he said it - he moaned out ‘good girl’ as he slid inside me. he was dreaming about her.

I want to say that I properly woke him up and told him to stop, that I safeworded, told him not to fucking call me that, but it made my pussy so. fucking. wet. I clenched so tight around him when he said it and that just made him say it again, louder, no doubt in my mind that my husband was using my hole while thinking about a woman, and who could blame him? he was fucking a wet, girly pussy that was spasming around his cock whenever he called her a good girl, he was fucking a little whore who couldn’t help but fuck herself on his cock with how desperate her pussy was to be stretched open and bred.

I can’t stop thinking about it. Whenever I touch myself it always comes back to being praised for being a good girl, or being reminded that what’s between my legs makes me a woman. It’s so humiliating. I found detrans tumblr through your blog and I can’t stop reading. I want to be corrected so badly. Punished for ever thinking I could be a man and reminded what my cunt is for.

"I found detrans tumblr through your blog and I can’t stop reading." - Something so beautiful about reading that statement. Knowing that I've awoken another fakeboy to the reality of their situation. Now I've planted that seed in your head you'll never be able to get it out. Every time you are being fucked, every time you look at your body, you're going to think the words "FAKEBOY". OOOFF. Then to add on that story about your husband. Can you imagine being a fakeboy and marrying a man who is otherwise poly with women? How could you ever really take seriously that he respects your identity? He might say all the right words, but you know he is sexually attracted to female bodies. He enjoys the way female cunts feel clenched around his cock. As someone who has done it himself, let me promise you this. Even if he says all the right words about you being a man, when he is fucking you he is thinking of you as a woman. Watch him next time you fuck. See if he stares with laser like focus on your pussy while fucking you. Watch him crave your feminine parts. Does he talk about breeding you? I can promise you, in his head, he's been saying "Good Girl. Good Girl." For years while he fucks you. He just thinks you'll freak out if he says it out loud. At least next time he fucks you, you can think about what a good girl you are too.

#detrans kink #detransition kink #ftm bottom #ftm sub #ftm puppy #forced detrans #ftm misgendering #misgender kink #misgender me #misgendering blog #detrans ftm #ftm detransition #misgenderingkink

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royboyfanpage · 7 months

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Okay a post by @mew-poo got me thinking about Titans (1999) #15-#16 again, and I think I noticed something. This may be absolute bs, I haven't slept in two days so I might be doing analysis that doesn't exist, but-

I think Roy is the only one of the fab five who doesn't hold grudges.

Essentially the comics, particularly #15, focus on the fab five being stranded on an island with Gargoyle, who is bringing their personal resentments and grudges to light, causing a lot of tensions between the team. But one thing I've noticed is that the different arguments Roy makes are rarely centred around anything that happened between him and the others off the island. The main issues for him are-

-the current situation, or-

-regarding Lian. Comparatively, the things that the others say to him, such as Garth bringing up his addiction arguably unnecessarily-

-Donna suggesting that Roy's stupid for thinking their relationship will last (and later insulting him for leaving after she said that)-

-and Dick questioning his commitment to the Titans (which I won't post a panel of due to Tumblr photo limit, so imagine it's here), it's clear to see a difference. Despite being on an island intended to highten negative emotions, Roy never actually brings up anything anyone's done in the past (at least not yet) unless he's actively prompted to by someone else, like his defending himself from Dick's criticism-

-and the only time he really brings anything up without a prompt (prior to the end) is STILL in reference to something that was said to him on the island as opposed to years ago.

I think that makes a lot of sense for Roy as a character. He's a very practical man, and so it makes sense that he wouldn't dwell on old grudges compared to current issues he's faced with. It could also, at least partially, explain why it takes Roy so long to recognise that Garth is mad at his teasing. Roy reacts strongly in the moment to issues in his life and relationships rather than letting them brew (at least this era of Roy does, his reactions were different in the Snowbirds era), which may make it harder for him to see that someone *is* harbouring a grudge against him that they haven't acted on- that's just not how his brain works.

And then, there's the moment where Roy does snap.

I don't think that Roy's dialogue here stems from a grudge, and it's not based in negativity. As mentioned earlier in the comic, Gargoyle thrives on negativity, that was what was keeping them in purgatory. However, Roy's rant and punch was what managed to free them. It's not based in bitterness but rather... I guess violently constructive criticism? Roy doesn't like seeing Dick stuck in Bruce's shadow, and his tirade is based in concern for Dick more than anything, a wake-up call. And anything similar to bitterness in this is rather based on the double standards towards Dick- everyone has to walk on eggshells around Dick's issues, whereas Roy's issues are constantly brought up (Roy's addiction is mentioned in almost every comic with him I've read). He's angry that his friends will step in and give *him* a wakeup call, but they let Dick spiral without stepping in.

Anyway I'm very tired and forgot my point halfway through writing this, so do with this as you will and reinterpretations are more than welcome.

#roy harper #arsenal #red arrow #speedy #dc comics #titans #fab five #garth of shayeris #donna troy #dick grayson

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kingofbodyrolls · 7 months

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My Heart's Home (m) | pjm | one

🐴Chapter summary: You arrive back at the ranch, a place you used to call home as a child. But it doesn’t hold the same meaning anymore. With the passing of your mother, you stand to inherit part of that very ranch– and you don’t want it. Only problem, your sister doesn’t want to give you her signature for you to sell your share. 🐴Chapter title: Inheritance 🐴Pairings: jimin x reader (main), jungkook x reader (only happens once in the first chapter), jungkook x OC (jessi), namjoon x OC (jessi), yoongi x hoseok, namjoon x oc, seokjin x oc, taehyung x oc 🐴Characters: female reader (isn’t mentioned by name and no “y/n”), Jimin, Jungkook, Namjoon, Yoongi, Hoseok, Seokjin, Taehyung and four female original characters. 🐴Genre/AU: ranch!au, slice of life!au, soulmate!au, cowboy!au + smut, humor, fluff, romance, slow burn and angst 🐴Rating: mature/explicit/R18 – this is mature/explicit content, so minors, please do not interact!

🐴Disclaimer: I do not own BTS or know them personally and this work of fiction is purely fictional and for entertainment purposes only. The actions and personalities described in the story do not reflect those of BTS— it’s just fiction. Also, if you would kindly read the tags/warnings before reading, that would be lovely: and if you don’t like whatever is described in the tags, just hit return and find something else to read. Thank you 🌸 🐴Chapter warnings: mention of past character death of parents, exhibitionism, explicit smut in the form of protected sex, quick and dirty sex, doing it against a barn, creampie, nipple play, clit play. Doing it in public / outside. Mention of past infidelity (of parents). Spoiler ahead!!! Jungkook and Jimin are (half) brothers and reader sleeping with JK is necessary to happen for the sake of the plot 🥲 It sucked to write that part, and if you feel like the smut if ‘eh’ it’s because it was written that way because reader isn’t meant to be with JK! So, please, don’t let that discourage you from reading it, the rest of the story is really good and MC realizes she’s made a mistake… anyway the smut with Jimin when it eventually happen, is just 🥵🥵🥵 🐴Status: completed 🥳 🐴Word count: 8.2k 🐴Taglist: @kookswifesblog @kiki-zb @babejinnie @ownthesunshine @allie-is-a-panda @glllhjh @bergandysam @13-manggaetteok

*tumblr isn’t letting me tag you! There could be a lot of reasons for that, check out this lovely post about it.

🐴Now playing 💿 “Theme from McLeod’s Daughters” by Rebecca Lavelle. [Wanna listen to the serie’s playlist?] 🐴Author’s note: this story has been in my head forever, and I’ve spent months outlining it and planning it– so I’m so stoked to finally post it! 🥳 I love both McLeod’s Daughters and BTS, so why not combine it?? I am not sure anybody will read this story, but if you do, thank you! It truly means the world to me.

I also want to give a very big thank you and shout out to my dear friend, Lua, for reading it while I worked on it, hyping me up and giving me such fucking wonderful feedback 😭✨ Thank you so much @letjungcoook7 💖🥹

It’s been cross posted to AO3 if you prefer to read there. Wanna see the book cover?

| s.masterlist | m.masterlist | next →

“I said, I wanna touch the earth I wanna break it in my hands I wanna grow something wild and unruly I wanna sleep on the hard ground In the comfort of your arms On a pillow of bluebonnets In a blanket made of stars Oh, it sounds good to me I said, cowboy take me away Fly this girl as high as you can into the wild blue Set me free, oh, I pray” - “Cowboy Take Me Away” by The Chicks

The tires of your car dig into the unforgiving dirt road with a tenacious grip as you navigate the rugged terrain. A symphony of sand and dust dances before the windshield, yet your focus remains unyielding. The landscape is open and inviting, yet there’s tall mountains in the distance framing the idyllic nature.

The pulsating beat of the music reverberates through the vehicle, echoing the determination coursing through your veins. Your fingers tighten around the wheel, your resolve unshakable.

Amidst the chaotic whirlwind outside, you're on a singular quest: to get your sister’s signature to sell your share of the ranch.

You yearn to sever all ties with the place.

It's not a matter of hatred, per se, but rather an aversion steeped in memories you'd rather forget.

The grounds echo with a tapestry of recollections, most of which cling like shadows to the recesses of your mind—a gallery of moments you're desperate to erase from the canvas of your past.

The passing of your mother, a woman absent from your life for over two decades, casts a melancholic hue over this reunion, that leaves much to be desired.

Separated by the passage of years, your sister remains a distant specter on the horizon of your past. A chapter of familial connection was abruptly closed when your father took you away from the ranch during your formative years, the sprawling fields replaced by the relentless rhythm of the city.

The city, with its towering structures and ceaseless energy, has woven itself into the fabric of your existence. Amidst the hustle, the stress, the eclectic cafes, and the teeming crowds, you've found a peculiar treasure trove of experiences that pulse through your veins like a vibrant heartbeat. The city's flaws, laid bare like urban scars, only deepen your affection for its complex tapestry, making each chaotic street corner and neon-lit club a cherished fragment in the mosaic of your life.

As an undesired song infiltrates your playlist, you find yourself questioning its very existence on your curated soundtrack.

Swiftly, you dismiss its intrusion, replacing its notes with the growling intensity of a much angrier anthem.

The need for focus on this mission is paramount, an unyielding commitment that not even the persuasive tones of Jessi, with all her influence, can sway or alter.

A familiar sign with your family’s last name emerges on the horizon, unleashing a flood of memories from an idyllic childhood—filled with the echoes of hide-and-seek, the warmth of love, and the harmonious symphony of laughter—that paints both your irises and your heart in hues of nostalgia.

Yet, as your fingers instinctively clench around the steering wheel, you staunchly refuse to be swayed by the emotional undertow. Determination courses through your veins, a steadfast resolve not to let sentiment cloud the clarity of your purpose.

With a resolute spirit, you navigate the winding road that leads to the ranch.

As the familiar landscape unfurls before you, a creeping uneasiness takes root within the recesses of your being. Despite the passage of two decades, the ranch appears frozen in time, an unchanged picture that sends shivers down your spine. The unsettling familiarity of the place only amplifies the weight of the past, casting a shadow over your determined journey back to a place that seems to have resisted the relentless march of time.

Bringing the car to a halt before the imposing main house, you silence the engine with a decisive twist of the key. A heavy sigh escapes your lips, mingling with the weight of anticipation that hangs in the air. Inhaling deeply, you draw in the essence of the moment, your fingers betraying a nervous rhythm as they tap anxiously against the steering wheel.

The stillness belies the turmoil surging within, as you ready yourself to encounter the ghost of your past.

A mere thirty minutes— an hour at most, and you'll resume your journey on the open road, bound for the comfort of home in the city.

Determination courses through your veins, intertwining with the staccato rhythm of your anxious heartbeat, the pulsations reverberating so forcefully that you can sense them echoing all the way to the depths of your ears.

The moment your car door swings open, a subtle shift in the wind whispers a tale of transformation. The landscape may echo familiarity, but an intangible alteration lingers in the air, an elusive metamorphosis that leaves you questioning the very essence of this place. Is it a mere illusion, or has something truly shifted, perhaps within the confines of your own soul?

Navigating the uneven terrain in heels proves to be a challenge, but undeterred, you conquer the dirt road and arrive at the tall front door. It stands before you, a sentinel of memories, somehow appearing taller than in recollection. The weathered, dark-red wooden door remains stoically unchanged, a silent witness to the passage of time.

Two deliberate knocks break the stillness, and you retreat a step, a reverberation of anticipation coursing through the air as you stand on the threshold of both the past and the unknown.

The door frame, once pristine in its white coat, now bears the scars of time, its paint chipped and revealing glimpses of the weathered wood beneath.

Stationed in front of the door, you endure a suspenseful five minutes, an eternity compressed into every passing second, yet the silence remains unbroken. Undeterred by the absence of response, a resolute determination guides your actions as you seize the handle. With a deliberate press, the handle yields, surrendering to your resolve and releasing a cacophony of creaks—a symphony of protesting hinges announcing your entrance into the realm of memories.

“Hello?”

Your voice, tinged with uncertainty, dances into the air as you cautiously poke your head through the threshold, a hesitant entry into the familiar realms of the house.

A gentle warmth envelops you, tenderly kissing your skin and infusing an instant sense of calm. The scent, aged and rich, swirls around you like a tangible embrace of wood and cherished memories from your childhood. The hallway stretches out before you, adorned with snapshots frozen in time—images of you and Jessi playing in the fields, your first pony, and a cherished trio with your mom. Each picture pulses with the erratic beat of your heart, echoing the palpable journey down the corridor of reminiscence. Amidst this gallery of the past, you navigate the tapestry of nostalgia, your destination set on what memory deems to be the kitchen.

The staccato clank of your heels resonates boldly against the unpolished hardwood floor, a deliberate announcement of your presence that reverberates through the silent expanse as you press deeper into the heart of the kitchen. Despite the resounding echo, a mysterious absence lingers, the emptiness amplifying the solitude within the room, a poignant contrast to the persistent cadence of your steps.

Surveying the scene, your eyes capture the delicate dance of white curtains adorned with lace, their elegance offering a stark contrast to the weathered state of the kitchen. Time has etched its story on the cabinets, pleading for a rejuvenating touch—perhaps a cleansing and a new coat of color to breathe life into the tired, faded cream. A wistful smile graces your lips, an emotive response to the tactile connection forged as your fingers trace the countertop. The surface, a touch dusty yet evocative, sparks an odd familiarity, transporting you to a realm of forgotten times and the comforting essence of what was once home.

A sudden voice startles you from your reverie, its unexpected presence slicing through the air like a well-timed interruption in the symphony of memories.

“Can I help you?”

A jolt courses through your body, a startled response to the abrupt intrusion of the voice, yet you pivot on your heels, meeting the owner of the enigmatic, yet somehow airy, tones.

In the face of the unexpected presence, you lock eyes with the source, a meeting that feels like a convergence of past and present, each heartbeat resonating with the electric charge surging through your body.

A nervous chuckle escapes you, the residue of your earlier determination dissipating in the charged air as you assess the man standing before you.

His eyes, a deep and authoritative brown, lock onto yours, unraveling a silent narrative in their depths. Blonde and untamed, his long hair falls with a disheveled grace, framing a face that exudes both strength and mystery. His slender physique conceals well-defined, lean muscles beneath the snug embrace of a gray shirt, each contour subtly hinting at the strength within. Clad in blue denim jeans with artful rips at the bottom, and adorned with chunky western boots boasting intricate ornaments, he carries an aura of rugged elegance.

“Can I help you?” he repeats, the query hanging in the air like an unspoken challenge.

Crossing his arms over a torso that amplifies the definition of his biceps, his deliberate posture commands attention, drawing your gaze to the undeniable display of strength.

“I’m so sorry,” you quip nervously, a hint of self-awareness coloring your tone. Inwardly, you curse the fact that you were caught in the act of checking him out, and you’ve yet to acknowledge the man properly. “I’m looking for Jessi?”

A low, rumbling chuckle escapes the man, accompanied by a soft smile that carries a subtle mystique, rendering his eyes nearly elusive.

“Who are you?” he inquires, his arms still defiantly crossed, and a flicker of realization dawns upon you—this interaction holds a peculiar tension. The awareness sets in that, in essence, you are an intruder, a stranger trespassing into the intimate space of a home that isn’t yours anymore.

“I'm Jessi's sister,” you declare, a succinct introduction that hangs in the air. His response is a simple “Oh,” a word that resonates with a spectrum of unspoken sentiments.

As his arms fall to his sides, his posture eases into a more relaxed stance, and his gaze, now unhindered by the barricade of crossed arms, traverses the contours of your figure. Your choice of attire—heels and a summer dress that daringly grazes your thighs—doesn't escape his notice.

You sense his eyes lingering on your exposed legs for a beat longer than societal norms might deem appropriate.

You find yourself unapologetically appreciating his attractiveness, recognizing the allure that binds both of you in a silent dance of mutual fascination.

“You don't remember me?”

His question pierces through the air, catching you off guard, and instinctively, you lean back against the countertop. A subtle shake of your head accompanies the inquiry, and as you witness a shadow of sadness flicker across his eyes, an unexpected weight sinks into the chambers of your heart. The unspoken question lingers—should you know this man?

“It's me, Jimin,” he asserts with a voice steeped in pride and certainty, a declaration that sets your mind into a whirlwind of attempted recollection. His name resonates with a familiarity that dances on the periphery of your memory, like an elusive wisp slipping through the cracks of forgotten moments.

“Park?”

You question with a voice that wavers in uncertainty, the mere utterance of the name carrying the weight of a fragile hope. As the word escapes your lips, you cling to the fragile threads of memory, desperately seeking confirmation that you've pieced together the puzzle of identity correctly.

“Yeah! Don't you remember? We played together when we were kids,” he chuckles warmly, the nostalgia of shared memories evident in his eyes.

With a warm gesture, he invites you to take a seat, a silent acknowledgment of the intricacies of your shared history. As he crosses the room to the sink, a subtle limp marks his stride—a detail you keenly observe as you pull out a chair. Your curiosity about his altered gait tugs at your thoughts, begging for expression, yet you restrain the impulse, deeming it too forward. Silently, you observe him reaching for a glass from the overhead cabinet, pouring water with a practiced ease.

“Here you go,” he offers, placing the glass before you. As you take it, your fingers brush momentarily, and an unexpected electric jolt courses through your body. You respond with a sheepish smile, expressing gratitude for the simple gesture. “Jessi is out riding; she'll be back soon.”

You nod, the cool touch of the glass against your lips serving as a momentary distraction from the impending wait. As you take a measured sip of water, the realization sinks in — a quiet acknowledgment that the road back home may stretch longer than initially anticipated.

“I'm sorry about your mom,” he offers his condolences, and a palpable pain reflects in his eyes. The depth of his empathy hints at a connection with your mother that might surpass your own or perhaps, he carries the weight of loss in his own experiences. Regardless, you express gratitude, but as you do, a nonchalant shrug of your shoulders accompanies your words. “It's whatever,” you say, attempting to downplay the complexity of emotions that linger beneath the surface, yet the weight of grief echoes in the unspoken spaces between you.

He offers a minuscule smile, a mere flicker that fails to reach the depths of his eyes, and a subtle shift in the atmosphere becomes palpable. A quiet tension weaves through the kitchen, the air thickening with unspoken complexities. It's as if the very walls themselves have become sentient, closing in with a slow and deliberate intent, creating an immersive sense of confinement that mirrors the unexplored territories of emotions lingering between you and Jimin.

The rhythmic clank of boots announces her arrival before she materializes in the doorway — Jessi, a force of raw determination, a cascade of muttered curse words trailing in her wake.

With an aura of purpose, she strides into the kitchen, a whirlwind of energy that disrupts the tension-laden air.

“Aren't you supposed to be working?” she demands, a subtle undercurrent of anger weaving through her voice as her gaze fixes on Jimin.

You sense that you've slipped beneath her radar for now. Jimin responds with a casual chuckle, turning his head in your direction. In that moment, you feel the weight of her steel gaze bore into you.

You observe the subtle tensing of her body, her gaze meticulously scrutinizing every inch of you. Arms crossed defensively, she acknowledges your presence with a guarded stance.

“Long time no see. What do you want?” The words, delivered with an edge that slices through the air, reverberate with a mix of curiosity and suspicion, embodying the complex web of emotions that intertwine your shared history.

Your lips involuntarily tighten, the already tense atmosphere escalating to an almost suffocating degree as Jessi's presence intensifies. A rhythmic tapping of her foot reverberates through the room, an erratic metronome that hints at a cocktail of emotions—perhaps nervousness, perhaps anger, the fine line between the two eluding your understanding.

“The inheritance,” you utter, and a visible transformation sweeps over Jessi. Her countenance, already frosty, plunges into an even colder abyss. The pallor that washes over her skin accentuates the darkness of her brown, curly hair, transforming it into a cascade that seems to absorb the shadows of her perturbed soul.

A nervous gulp echoes in the charged silence, your attempt to fortify a wavering resolve. The mission is clear — secure her signature, liberate yourself, and sever the lingering ties. The weight of unspoken history and familial complexities hangs in the air, urging you to complete this fraught encounter, hoping that once the ink meets the paper, you’ll leave and never bother her again.

“I want to sell my share of the ranch. I just need your signature.”

The declaration hangs in the charged air, a revelation that sends a ripple through the room. Jimin tenses visibly, gaping in clear surprise at your bold proclamation. Your sister, on the other hand, is barely faring any better. The undercurrents of anger surge to the surface, a tempest of emotions that bobs precariously, threatening to breach the veneer of composure that barely holds.

She hisses, the sound cutting through the charged silence like a serpent's warning, and grinds her teeth together with a simmering intensity. “You're not getting that,” she declares with a venomous resolve, the words laced with an unmistakable determination that resonates with the unyielding clash of wills in the room.

The sternness and anger in her voice reverberate through the room, creating an invisible barrier. Undeterred, you summon a quiet resolve and press forward, attempting to cut through the emotional tempest that surrounds her. “I just need your signature, and then I can go,” your words, a delicate plea amidst the tumultuous clash of emotions, hang in the air, a fragile bridge between the chasm of familial discord and the resolution you seek.

She strides purposefully towards you, anger etching furrows into her brows. Coming to a halt just before your seated form, she looms over you with a fiery intensity in her eyes.

“No. Get the fuck out,” she commands, the force behind her words reverberating in the charged space between you. The air crackles with the energy of unresolved conflicts, and her words hang in the air like a proclamation, leaving no room for negotiation.

Jimin's expression no longer holds surprise, his features now marked by a disapproving shake of his head. As Jessi retreats from you, turning with a storm brewing in her wake, the kitchen becomes an echoing chamber of unresolved tensions. She storms out, leaving you and Jimin in the wake of her departure, the remnants of conflict lingering in the air like an unspoken presence that refuses to dissipate.

You clench your hands into tight fists, the physical manifestation of the internal turmoil that courses through you. The realization dawns, like a belated epiphany, that her vehement reaction was all but predictable. A heavy sigh escapes your lips, and you slump back into the chair, the weight of disappointment settling upon you like a shroud. This isn't unfolding as you had envisioned.

The wind whips through, mercilessly tossing your hair into a chaotic dance across your face. Grumbling, you navigate the exterior of the main house, entering a realm where nature and grandeur coalesce. The yard unfolds before you, a testament to meticulous care, stretching expansively with paddocks extending for miles. To the left, a substantial stable stands as a regal sentinel, while to the right, three cottages punctuate the landscape.

Your gaze sweeps across the panoramic expanse, capturing the undulating beauty of the paddocks that cascade over the hills while the sun slowly sets. Cows and horses graze lazily, mere dots in the vast canvas of the countryside. The scene unfolds before you like a living painting, each blade of grass, each creature contributing to the symphony of nature. Amidst this serene image, you find yourself standing at the crossroads of contemplation, pondering the labyrinth of decisions that now lay before you.

Jessi won’t give you her signature, and you need her damn ink on that paper to be able to sell your share of the ranch.

Maybe if you get on her good side, she’ll reconsider? It’s worth a try at least.

“Hi,” a lilting female voice disrupts the current of your thoughts, a melodic intrusion that yanks you back from the recesses of contemplation. Your pivot is swift, attention now redirected to the stranger who has materialized behind you.

Her hand extends gracefully towards you, a gesture that transcends the usual formalities. “I'm Soo-ah, one of the stable hands here,” she introduces herself with an easy confidence, her words resonating with a sense of belonging and familiarity within the expansive realm of the ranch.

“Ah, hi,” you muse with a soft smile, extending a handshake that bridges the gap between stranger and newfound acquaintance. Her stature is modest, a curvature of curves, with a disarming smile that reveals a charming imperfection in the form of endearing crooked teeth. Clad in short denim shorts adorned with delicate white lace on the trim and a pink tank top, she exudes an aura of comfort and warmth. Her eyes, a mesmerizing shade of blue, gleam with a radiance that speaks of love and hope, amplified by the contrast against her sun-kissed tan skin.

“Your trip didn't go according to plan?” she inquires, the gentle cadence of her question accompanied by the sweep of a hand, gracefully gathering her long blonde hair away from her face.

A chuckle escapes you, accompanied by a nonchalant shrug of your shoulders, as you confess, “Not really.”

“You know, this place means a lot to Jessi. It's her home. She wouldn't want you to sell your share for some random people to buy it or worse, use the land for housing or something.” Her eyes mirror the softness of her words, and a gentle smile graces her lips, a gesture that carries an unexpected soothing effect on your conflicted heart.

The weight of her words settles on your conscience, a realization you had secretly dreaded. You grasp the depth of your sister's emotional connection to this land, an affection you once shared but have since outgrown. The prospect of selling your share, allowing strangers to lay claim to the cherished homestead, unfolds before you, and you acknowledge why Jessi vehemently opposes it. Yet, your heart remains indifferent to the sentimental ties that bind others to this place. It ceased being home long ago, and the notion of it ever regaining that status in your life appears as elusive as a distant memory fading into the horizon.

“Say what. It's late, and dinner's almost ready. Why don't you come eat with us and meet the rest of the gang? After that, I'll show you one of the guest rooms!” Her invitation resonates with a contagious enthusiasm, her voice exuding a warmth that almost verges on giddy. The surge of energy she emanates feels almost overwhelming, a stark contrast to the subdued atmosphere that has accompanied your arrival.

“I haven't packed anything. I didn't plan on staying��” you mumble, your words trailing off into the evening breeze. Despite your half-hearted protest, she seizes your hand and playfully pulls you towards the main house. Reluctance threads through your steps, a tangible resistance to the unexpected detour that fate seems to be orchestrating.

“There's a guest room in the house, and you can borrow some clothes from Jessi or me. Those heels and that dress aren't exactly farm-friendly attire.” She laughs, a melody of warmth that resonates through the short walk to the house. Soo-ah guides you to the guest room where you'll be spending the night, and then you both make your way to the kitchen.

There, you encounter another enchanting presence—a statuesque woman, tall and slender, her ebony hair culminating at her neck. Her eyes, a captivating shade of incredibly dark brown, bordering on obsidian, stand out against her lovely fair white skin. Clad in a simple yet elegant ensemble of a dark t-shirt paired with dark blue denim jeans, she moves gracefully around the kitchen, orchestrating what appears to be a culinary feast in the making.

“I'm Ha-rin.” A casual wave accompanies her introduction, a seamless dance of gestures as she deftly grabs a handful of vegetables with the other hand.

“This is Jessi's sister,” Soo-ah introduces you with a warm smile, and Ha-rin nods in a gesture that suggests a preexisting understanding. “How can we help?” she inquires, her words carrying a blend of genuine curiosity and an unspoken readiness to extend hospitality.

“You can set the table. I'm almost done with the food,” she declares, seamlessly transitioning to the task of cutting carrots with a professional speed that leaves you duly impressed.

Soo-ah guides you to the location of plates and glasses, and in a synchronized dance, you both embark on setting the table in the dining room. The collaborative effort carries an unexpected warmth, a departure from the solitary routine you've grown accustomed to. The act of sharing this communal task conjures a sense of nostalgia; it's been a long time since you've partaken in such simple yet meaningful rituals. Your dining experiences have often been solitary, occasionally shared with a partner, although those instances are rare occurrences in the tapestry of your solitary meals.

In no time, Ha-rin completes the culinary masterpiece, presenting a spread of oven-cooked chicken, a colorful assortment of vegetables, and tantalizing kimchi. The table becomes a canvas adorned with the promise of a delectable feast. As you all take your seats, another presence joins the gathering—Ara, a tall woman with big brown eyes and chocolate-brown hair cascading gracefully over her shoulders. Her curves and paler skin distinguish her from Ha-rin, yet she radiates the same warmth that characterizes the group.

The door swings open, and into the room strides your sister, a pronounced frown etching lines of disapproval on her face the moment her sharp eyes lock onto your figure seated at her dining table.

“Didn't I tell you to leave?” Her voice cuts through the air, laden with an undeniable tension that hangs like a storm cloud, casting a shadow over the gathering.

With an exasperated roll of your eyes, you confront the directness that has always characterized Jessi, even if it doesn't always come across as nice. “It's getting dark, and Soo-ah graciously provided me with a room for the night. I'm not leaving until I get your signature,” you assert, the declaration hanging in the air like an unyielding challenge.

Jessi's voice carries a distinct air of deflation, and it becomes evident that obtaining her signature won't be a victory achieved tonight, if at all. Resigned, she takes her place at the head of the table, a silent acknowledgment of the impasse.

A stretch of silence envelops the dining room as everyone engages in the act of eating, a temporary truce. However, the calm is shattered as Jessi, unable to contain her emotions any longer, erupts like a dormant volcano. “Why can't you just keep your share of the ranch, huh?” Her words punctuate the air, each question a stab to the atmosphere, accentuated by the forceful plunge of her fork into the unfortunate chicken.

“Honestly?” You draw in a deep breath, preparing for the verbal fallout, fully aware that you've stepped into a minefield. “I just need the money.” The words hang in the air, a stark admission that lays bare your motivations. Jessi's frown deepens, her disapproving expression not eliciting the slightest surprise from you.

“Why can't you just buy my share?” The words escape you in a frustrated huff, irritation building with each passing moment. Jessi's ability to get on your nerves becomes increasingly evident, a skill she's always excelled at.

“I don't have the money to buy you out,” she states bluntly, her voice carrying a mix of blankness and anger, turning the tension at the table sour. Your plate, once adorned with the delicious offerings crafted by Ha-rin, now sits neglected, the food losing its appeal in the wake of the strained conversation. What a shame, you think, as the beautifully prepared meal becomes a casualty of the familial clash, and your appetite dissipates like the vanishing aroma of an abandoned feast.

“Why are you so mad at me?” you sputter out in frustration, resisting the almost overwhelming urge to pull at your hair in exasperation. The room echoes with a tense silence, interrupted only by the subtle sound of your sister's scuff, a precursor to the deep inhale that precedes the unleashing of her fury upon you.

“I haven't seen you in twenty years. You stomp in here, wanting to take my home away from me. And you didn't even attend Mom's funeral. Some balls you have.” Her voice is stern, each word laced with venom, and her glare cuts through you like a knife. To punctuate her disapproval, she slams her hands down hard on the table. “I'm going to bed. Goodnight.”

Then she stomps off. At least she has some manners, you think, acknowledging the begrudging ‘goodnight’ she offered. Nevertheless, you sigh, the rest of the girls casting pitiful glances in your direction.

You lean back in the chair, contemplating the daunting challenge of ever getting on your sister's good side. The prospect seems as elusive as catching a shooting star, an almost impossible mission. Just as you sink into the depths of your thoughts, Ara shatters your contemplation with a beaming smile. “We're having a party tomorrow. Won't you stay for that?”

You take a few seconds to mull over her offer: a party in the countryside does sound intriguing, but the prospect of extended time with a sister who harbors animosity towards you gives you pause. Soo-ah, sensing your hesitation, steps in with a persuasive grin, “There'll be hot men!”

Then, in an instant, thoughts of Jimin flood your mind, and the prospect of his presence at the party becomes a tantalizing factor. A glimmer of optimism flickers; perhaps attending won't be as unbearable as you initially thought. Contemplating the possibility of a good time, you decide, “Who can say no to that?”

A forced laugh escapes your lips, but within it, there's a hint of genuine enjoyment. Sometimes, you remind yourself, you have to fake it until you make it.

The barn pulsates with the rhythm of the music, a lively mix of country tunes, not exactly your preferred genre, yet the melodies weave seamlessly into the rustic ambiance. Couples and friends sway to the slow beats on the dance floor, creating an intimate atmosphere that, despite your initial reservations, feels oddly fitting. Most attendees linger along the walls engaged in conversation, and as your eyes scan the scene, you notice a handful of men. The girls weren't exaggerating – the company includes some undeniably attractive men.

The majority of women sport casual dresses, much like the one you've borrowed from Ha-rin. Clad in a long black lace dress that subtly accentuates your curves, you navigate the sea of familiar and unfamiliar faces. In stark contrast, Jessi's attire veers towards practicality – shirt, jeans and boots, a reflection of her enduring tomboyish nature. While you entertain a fleeting thought about the silliness of her choice for a party, a deeper understanding dawns. She’s always been more practical, and her choice of clothes tonight might align with that too.

Surveying the lively scene again, your eyes lock onto your sister, deeply engrossed in a conversation with Jimin, an interaction that sparks both curiosity and a twinge of apprehension within you.

As Ha-rin diligently tends to the culinary offerings, ensuring a variety of light snacks for everyone, Soo-ah and Ara steal the spotlight on the improvised dance floor. Their laughter echoes through the barn, a harmonious blend of joy and camaraderie, and you can't help but be drawn into the dynamic and diverse interactions unfolding around you.

Turning on your heels, a craving for the crisp embrace of fresh air seizes you. Opting for the subtlety of a quiet exit, you make your way toward the back door of the barn. The metallic touch of the door handle graces your palm with a forgiving chill, a stark departure from the warmth and vibrancy pulsating within. Pushing the door ajar, the night air rushes to greet your face, prompting a sigh of contemplation.

However, as you step outside, your serenity shatters with a startle – a towering, muscular figure leans against the barn, arms crossed, waiting in the shadows of the night.

A startled yelp escapes your lips, accompanied by an inadvertent inhalation of lingering smoke in the air. The features of the stranger remain elusive, shrouded in the haze, as they release a deep and resonant chuckle in response to your momentary disarray.

“Scaredy-cat?” he teases, the resonance of his laughter causing an animated jiggle through his entire upper body. Your gaze inadvertently drifts to his well-defined pectorals, emphasized by the snug fit of his ripped tank top. The exact hue of the fabric eludes you in the dim light, a mysterious darkness with a hint of, perhaps, deep blue.

You approach him, trying to maintain an air of nonchalance, though inwardly acknowledging the undeniable truth – you are indeed a scaredy-cat. Closing the distance, your eyes trace a path from his broad shoulders down his right arm, a canvas adorned with a full sleeve of tattoos. Among the intricate designs, some manifest in striking black and white, while others burst forth with vivid splashes of color, each telling a silent tale waiting to be unraveled.

Approaching him, you realize you've left his question hanging in the air. Coming to a halt in front of this enigmatic figure, you find yourself captivated by his deep, dark brown eyes. In the obscurity of the night, tiny glints of light echo the stars above, gleaming in his gaze. His pitch black long hair, with small curls at the end, frame his handsome face. Contrary to the rugged bulk of his body, his facial features exude a surprising softness. Thick, black eyebrows frame his expressive eyes, while a slim, pointed nose adds to the symphony of features. A sharp, defined jawline contrasts with the plushness of his rosy lips, gently circling a half-smoked cigarette.

“Jessi’s sister, huh?” He inhales deeply from his cigarette, exhaling a plume of smoke that dances in the air beside you.

“Y-Yes,” you stammer nervously, a feeble symphony to the deep timbre of his laughter. Nonetheless, you summon the courage to introduce yourself, your name a tentative melody lingering in the night air.

“I'm Jungkook.” He announces, the remnants of the cigarette meeting its demise beneath the sole of his boot, extinguishing any lingering embers. A subtle caution against the spark that could set the night ablaze.

“You look hot. Want to make out?” His gaze boldly traces over you, and a sudden self-consciousness grips you in the delicate embrace of your lace dress. Your cheeks ignite in a bright red flush, caught off guard by the unexpected boldness of his proposition.

Your flabbergasted expression seems to amuse him, and his laughter echoes, revealing an endearing smile that prompts a soft, airy chuckle to escape your lips in response.

“I'm serious, you know,” he says, wriggling his eyebrows suggestively. Another blush creeps up on you at his bluntness. Initially thinking he was joking, you now realize he's actually serious. As you assess him, you can't deny his incredible attractiveness, coupled with a nice smile and soft eyes. Perhaps he can't be all bad, right?

You saunter closer, conducting a swift yet thorough assessment of him. With a teasing lick of your lips, you signal that you're up for the game. “Sure.”

In a bold surge, he captures your lips, biting down on your lower lip as if seeking entrance. Yielding to the magnetic pull, your tongues engage in a fiery dance. His hands firmly grip your shoulders, giving a reassuring squeeze before deftly maneuvering you against the wall.

In a ravenous and swift embrace, his lips claim yours, leaving you breathless when he breaks away, his gaze smoldering with a lustful intensity that ignites a fiery sensation beneath your skin. Though not one to engage in impulsive encounters, the intoxicating allure of the moment fans the flames of excitement within you. Reminding yourself of the imminent departure tomorrow, you boldly lean in, craving another taste, and surrender to the intoxicating dance of desire.

As the kiss deepens, his demeanor doesn't exude sweetness or tenderness, and strangely, you find solace in that. After all, tomorrow marks your return home. The intensity of his kiss, possessive and profound, spirals you into a mindless whirlwind, your thoughts dissipating into nothingness, overwhelmed by the feeling of his rugged frame pressed firmly against yours.

His gravelly voice breaks the kiss momentarily as he breathlessly declares, “Your lips are so damn soft.”

Locking eyes with you, he plunges back into the intoxicating exchange, this time with an urgent and fervent intensity that mirrors his escalating desire, leaving little room for restraint.

Your fingers dig into the firm contours of his hips, tracing an electrifying path along the sculpted landscape of his toned body. The rhythmic play of his muscles beneath your touch is a tactile symphony, every ridge and sinew a testament to his strength, creating an intricate dance beneath the fabric of his shirt.

His lips embark on a tantalizing journey, lingering on your cheek with teasing kisses before reaching your ear. A low, guttural growl escapes his lips as he presses his pelvis against you, sending a bolt of electricity through your body. The warmth of his breath against your ear ignites a wildfire of sensations, and the undeniable presence of his arousal is impossible to ignore. Control slips away like sand through your fingers, and you find yourself succumbing to the irresistible pull of desire.

You bite down on your lips, the struggle to suppress a moan palpable. Despite the lively party unfolding just a breath away, Jungkook possesses an uncanny ability to whisk you into a world of his own creation, making the chaotic celebration fade into insignificance.

His hands explore the contours of your breasts, coaxing a soft moan from your lips. The absence of padding in your bra leaves your nipples immediately responsive to his teasing fingers. Sensations surge through you, and as your panties cling uncomfortably, an urgent desire to shed them intensifies.

His breath hot against your ear, he whispers, “I want to fuck you so bad, can I?”

The firm squeeze on your breasts sends a wave of desire through you. Fuck. The craving intensifies, and the anticipation of being with him grows insatiable. It's been an eternity since you felt this desire, and you're already on the edge, yearning for his touch.

Your response escapes in a breathy whisper, “Hell yes.”

Your fingers find purchase on the contours of his chest, seeking stability amid the whirlwind of desire that envelops you both.

The symphony of desire crescendos as you catch the melodic jingle of his belt being undone, the tantalizing slide of metal against leather, and the whisper of a zipper surrendering its secrets. Soon, his jeans cascade down, pooling around his knees.

Your curiosity takes over, compelling you to cast an audacious gaze downward, and even through the fabric of his underwear, the impressive outline of his arousal is undeniable. The undeniable bulge hints at a restrained intensity, and summoning your courage, you boldly cup him, your touch sending a low, guttural groan reverberating through the charged air.

“Are you good to go without any prep?” His question, a tantalizing whisper in your ear, sends shivers down your spine, and the resonant, lust-laden timbre of his voice resonates deep within you.

Nodding in affirmation, you can't help but bite your lip, feeling the promise of an exhilarating encounter ahead. “Yes,” you murmur, a breathy admission to the impending intensity.

As he lowers his underwear, his dick is unleashed, an impressive display of length and girth, veins tracing its sculpted form. The engorged head, flushed and intense, undergoes a few suggestive strokes from his skilled hands, droplets of precum glistening as they descend to the ground below.

His touch is commanding, fingers tracing a path down the contours of your dress, gathering the fabric in his strong grip. Swiftly, his hands venture beneath, reaching the apex of your panties. In one bold motion, he removes them, allowing them to cascade to the ground as you gracefully step out, shedding inhibitions along with the delicate undergarment.

Unexpectedly, he seizes your hips, effortlessly lifting you into the air. As you leap, your legs instinctively wrap around his tiny waist, aligning your bare core with his throbbing dick, a subtle gasp escaping your lips as your wetness coats his cock.

A soft moan escapes your lips at the tantalizing contact, and Jungkook, seizing the opportunity, grips your supple curves, pressing you firmly against the wall for stability. Skillfully, he produces a condom out of thin air, wraps his cock with it and positions his dick at the entrance of your eager pussy. Your hands instinctively clutch his neck, a mixture of anticipation and desire written across your face as you brace yourself for the impending ecstasy. With a devious smile playing on his lips, he tantalizingly teases the velvety folds of your cunt with the head of his cock. But the pretense of gentleness is short-lived, as he discards any lingering pleasantries and thrusts his dick into your warm and eager core in one seamless motion.

A gasp escapes your lips as an exquisite stretch engulfs you, momentarily testing your limits. Yet, the generous coating of your arousal ensures that the discomfort swiftly transforms into an intoxicating wave of pleasure, leaving a tingling sensation in its wake.

He moves with an urgency that suggests an impending deadline, setting a pace that mirrors a sense of immediacy, as if time is a luxury he can't afford. The reasons behind his haste remain a mystery, and in this moment, you find yourself indifferent to the ticking clock, wholly absorbed in the intensity of the present.

“Mmmhh. You’re so tight.”

You gasp at the force of his thrusts, feeling the impact resonate through your body as your back collides with the wall. The slight discomfort is eclipsed by the overwhelming pleasure, and his raspy pants only intensify the raw, visceral connection between you, each movement a symphony of pleasure and urgency. He thrusts forcefully, plunging into the depth of your pussy.

Wrapping your legs around him, you greedily pull him closer, breathless huffs escaping your lips with each relentless thrust. “Yes! Right there!” The pleasure becomes almost blinding as he unerringly targets that sweet, sensitive spot, sending shockwaves of pleasure that build an exquisite tension, promising an impending climax that pulses in the depths of your core.

“Shit.” He pants huskily into your ear, a shiver running down your spine in response. The intensity of his thrusts is unparalleled, each powerful movement leaving an indelible mark on your senses. The realization hits you that tomorrow might bring soreness, but in the heat of the moment, with a dick this good, you decide it's a price worth paying.

Your moans have evolved into uninhibited symphonies, each thrust hitting that exquisite spot that sends shockwaves through your body. The coil in your tummy tightens, ready to snap, just waiting for that final nudge to propel you over the edge. “I’m so close.”

Jungkook's grip on your ass tightens, but with skilled precision, he frees one hand and navigates it down the narrow space between your bodies. Despite the limited room, his large hand finds your clit and begins to rhythmically rub it to the beat of his thrusts. The sensation is mind-blowing. Every rub and thrust unravel your body, sending waves of ecstasy through every inch of your being.

Then he leans in, his hot breath grazing your ear, and he moans, pushing you right over the edge, “Come on my cock, pretty.”

“Jungkook!” You pant his name erratically as the coil inside snaps, and you release your fluid over his cock, synchronized with his relentless thrusts. You gasp for air, momentarily feeling your vision blur as your orgasm surges through your spent body.

He keeps thrusting into you, and you feel utterly spent, so you’re just hanging on and clinging to him for dear life. You bury your face in the crook of his neck, closing your eyes as he relentlessly fucks you, searching for his own sweet release.

At a particularly hard thrust, you open your eyes, and they collide with a figure standing in the shadows.

Brown eyes and blonde hair meet yours.

You gulp, feeling your core clench instinctively.

It's Jimin.

His eyes reflect a mix of sadness and disappointment as they lock onto yours for a few lingering moments. He turns away and retreats back into the lively party. You don’t appreciate the unsettling expression on Jimin’s face, but there’s little you can do about it now. A strange and disconcerting feeling settles in your stomach.

“Fuck, you just got tighter, babe. I’m almost there.” His hands tighten their grip, his biceps flexing as he pulls you closer, syncing your movements with the intensity of his thrusts.

You sense Jungkook's thrusts growing more erratic, a telltale sign he's close. Despite his exhaustion, he strives to give his all in those final fervent moments, and you feel the warmth of his release filling the condom inside you as his pace slows. He's visibly breathless, and you empathize; after all, he exerted himself, utilizing every ounce of strength to keep you elevated. In his position, you'd likely be a panting mess on the ground.

“You good?” He inquires, scrutinizing your expression. Whether he discerns the melancholy etched on your face or not, he doesn't comment. Gently withdrawing from you and discarding the condom, he steadies you on shaky legs. You respond with a pensive smile and a nod. The night was undeniably enjoyable, yet Jimin's forlorn gaze lingers in your thoughts, casting a shadow over the post-passion atmosphere.

“I had a good time, thank you.” You muster a smile, though it feels a bit strained. Whether he perceives it or not is uncertain, and even if he does, you doubt it holds much significance to him.

“Same here. Thanks, babe.” His laughter rumbles as he rights himself, adjusting his underwear and fastening his pants. As he tends to his attire, you scan the floor for your abandoned panties.

As you retrieve them, you notice the dirt clinging to the delicate fabric, deciding against putting them on. Instead, you allow them to slip from your grasp, figuring you'll retrieve them tomorrow for a wash. The last thing you want is to flaunt dirty underwear at the party.

Jungkook strides confidently back into the lively party, and you trail closely in his wake, anticipation and a lingering heat coloring the air around you.

As you reenter the vibrant party scene, a sudden hush falls over the crowd, and the weight of all eyes on you feels like an invisible spotlight, making you wish for a momentary escape beneath the ground.

As you scan the crowd for Jimin, your gaze briefly collides with his, only to witness him quickly diverting his eyes elsewhere.

A perplexing mix of emotions lingers in his gaze—perhaps hurt or frustration. Puzzled, you question the impact of your intimate encounter outside, contemplating why he might be affected when, by all accounts, you share no significant ties.

As you enter the dining room, the tempting aroma of Ha-rin's carefully prepared breakfast envelops you, offering a flavorful farewell before you embark on your journey back to the bustling city.

As you approach the table, a surprising sense of harmony fills the room, with everyone already seated, including Jessi, who appears to be in higher spirits—perhaps fueled by the knowledge that she’s getting rid of you today.

Soo-ah's eyes sweep the table, a mischievous glint in her eyes as she starts, “ I discovered a pair of lacy red panties outside the barn this morning.”

You nearly choke on your food, a sudden realization hitting you like a ton of bricks. “Shit. Those are mine. Completely slipped my mind. My bad.”

All eyes suddenly fixate on you, their curiosity palpable. Soo-ah's gaze is practically bulging out of her eyes, Ara looks equally stunned, and Ha-rin can't help but release an amused ‘ooohh.’ Even Jessi, with her usual nonchalant demeanor, can't completely hide the flicker of intrigue in her eyes as she rolls them at the unfolding gossip.

Curiosity and a mischievous glint spark in Ara's big brown doe eyes as she leans forward, her cheeks tinted with a hint of red, and pops the question, “Who did you fuck?”

Between casual bites of scrambled eggs, you drop the bombshell, “A guy named Jungkook. You know him?” The nonchalance in your tone does little to mask the intrigue dancing in your eyes, leaving the table hanging on your every word.

A heavy hush descends upon the table, and you scan the faces around you, perplexed by the sudden silence. Disapproval lingers in Jessi's slow shake of the head, while the exchange of disconcerting glances among the girls hints at a shared, unspoken concern.

“What’s wrong?” Concern etches your voice as you inquire, the subtle panic seeping through, unable to grasp the sudden tension enveloping the table.

Soo-ah leans in dramatically, her words hanging in the air like a heavy secret. “You fucked Jungkook,” she drawls, the gravity of her statement sinking in, and a chill coursing through your veins. “The same Jungkook who's been with half the town—Park Jungkook.” The weight of his name leaves you wide-eyed, a sinking feeling settling in your gut.

Your jaw practically hits the floor, or it would if that were humanly possible. Park? Jungkook and Jimin are brothers?

Fuck.

Author’s note(2): Thank you so much for reading! 🌸 I would very much appreciate it if you reblogged the chapter, if you liked it ✨ A small review or a comment would also mean a lot to me, and even a like. But please, don’t be afraid to let me know what you think; your kind words makes me extremely happy 💜

Omg 🫢 How did you like the ending??? I hope you won’t be too mad… The fling with Jungkook only happens this one time, but necessary to happen for the rest of the story to make sense 🥲

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winterrrnight · 7 months

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edith's 600 followers celebration!

I absolutely cannot believe my eyes! 600 of you! (well, there are bots too but STILL!!!) this really means sooo much to me <33 writing is my vice, my way of letting out emotions, and to share stories of scenarios dreamt and words thought. To see so many of you enjoy reading it, share such beautiful views with me, always makes me so giddy with happiness 💓💓 thank you so so much for the continuous support 🥹 I hope to always keep on providing you guys content <33

navigation

STARTED: 29 february, 24 ENDED: 10 march, 24

EVENTS

go on without me: choose a prompt from here and a character from drew/rafe/zach and I will write you a concept/blurb!

sitting in traffic: ask me anything from here + give me your answers too!

japanese whiskey: give me a character out of drew/rafe/zach and a concept and I will make a 9 pic moodboard of it!

let the grass grow: send me this ask and I will tell you what I associate with you and your blog! (moots only!)

you against yourself: send me this ask and I will share one of my favorite drew/rafe/zach edits off pinterest or instagram! (Inspired by @runningfrom2am's celly event <3) (you can specify if you need one of a certain character out of the three :))

if and/or when: send me a profile picture and I will give you matching navigation post pictures and headers!

end scene: recommend me something! recommend me any of your favorite movies, shows, albums, artists, books etc, and in turn I’ll recommend you one from my collection of favs!

no tumblr games like fmk, cym etc. because they stress me out LMAO

RULES

be nice and respectful in the ask box and to everyone else participating in the event!

please be patient as I go through my asks, I am a full time student so I unfortunately have a life outside tumblr which at times needs more focus than my little tumblr blog does </3

please be mindful of my requesting rules, main one being I only write sfw content!

only one request per ask please! you can send infinite number of asks though <3

my regular requests will be closed for the time being!

anonymous asks are very much welcome! <3 (I also accept anon emojis :))

tagging my mutuals and my taglist who are the reason this blog exists and keeps on running 🥹💗 you all give me reason to wake up each morning <3

@runningfrom2am @saccharinesammie @maybankslover @totalswag @madelynie @chenslucy @ietss @elle-mp3 @viawritesstuff @wallsdreams @lunalitva @sadfury @newsies-pape-girl @jamesbuckybarneswify @xxxlaura @thatsthewaythechrissycrumbles @callsignwidow @assmaaaaa @starkowswife @drewstarkeyswifehoe @jjchaer @f4ll-for-you @wearemadeofstardust0 @drewsmusee @rafegirly @addriaenne @leighbronk @rafesdrew @bejeweledreverie @raf3sgff @aerangi @drewstarkey1bae @moneymaybank @spideysimpossiblegirl @tortured-poets-depxrtment @xxbutdaddyilovehimxx @oceandriveab @rylie-m @obaex @b1mb0slvt @cameronspecial @congratsloserr @rafeinterlude @brioffthegrid @flonkertn @milo-manheim-luver & my beautiful anons <3

so sorry if you did not want to be tagged, feel free to ignore!

check out the tag ‘edith’s 600 followers celebration! 🪄’ to remain updated with everything I post for the celly!

#celebrations #600 followers #600 followers celebration #drew starkey #rafe cameron #zach maclaren #edith's 600 followers celebration! 🪄

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yoonia · 1 month

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Some writing updates (before I log off for a while):

Postponing today's update on The Bedroom Hymns due to personal issues. I'm planning to still post the chapter this week because I'm planning to post another thing next week, but I guess it'll depend on whether or not I can get more done today

Chapter 22 is currently 75% done, with a total word count 11k words. The chapter might end up around 13-14k words and I'm not planning to split this chapter up because the next chapter needs to focus on something else entirely

Spoiler: will they reunite in this chapter? yes, and this one's going to be a bit fun. and sorry, no, there's no sword fighting

Ever A Never After: Act 2 is now at 19k words, and I still have about 2-3 scenes to work on

I'm going to finish this chapter and if it does end up with more than 20k words, I'll be releasing Act 2 in two separate chapters

This is what I'm planning to post next week while TBH is on a short break

The rewriting process of Carousel is currently ongoing

I just finished rewriting chapter 1 last week, but I'm planning to start updating the chapters here once I'm done working on more chapters

I might begin posting the updated chapters on Wattpad next week once chapter 2 is done, so you can catch up with the upgraded version there if you want to read faster

Blood Moon Rising is also undergoing some changes as I'm re-editing and republishing the Wattpad version

The Tumblr version will be updated once I'm done with this process or perhaps when I start posting new chapters

I'm currently considering on prioritising posting on Wattpad first before sharing on Tumblr since I'm working on this story one small chapter at a time so I can finish it faster (let me know if you're okay with this!)

These are the stories that I've been focusing on lately with the addition of some fic commissions that have been on pending. Feel free to ask anything about my WIPs! (ps. just don't ask about other WIPs that I'm not opening my draft for. if it's not mentioned, then I'm not working on them yet!)

#psa #misc: work in progress #misc: writing progress #sharing my wips so you'll know that I'm writing lol #will be sharing some spoilers once I'm back if you're interested!#I mean...the attached tbh moodboard above is already a spoiler lol

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ohbo-ohno · 22 days

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Heyyyyy so id like to apologize in advance for this ask, it’s dlmliyh related but mostly just a Drabble I wrote in a trance and figured no one else but you would appreciate. BUT if you’re done posting about that AU I totally understand and pls feel free to delete haha! Anyway, i was going through the whole dlmliyh tag (an entire years worth of posts woo!) and came across this one in particular ( https://www.tumblr.com/ohbo-ohno/727861861927747584/okay-but-reader-hearing-simon-punish-soap-for-the ) and omg this little Drabble just wrote itself basically. Uhhh yeah I hope u enjoy??? I’m not a writer obviously but I was possessed. Also I’m sending on anon cus tumblr is dumb but my cod side blog is irnbruandmanu so yeah u might see me floating in ur notes ❤️

You can hear the harsh smack smack SMACK of Simon hitting Johnny in the other room, probably in the face from the way he grunts after each impact. A particularly harsh sound of rubber hitting flesh followed by a heavy THUD paints a perfect picture of Simon kicking John right in the ribs, sending him sprawling to the floor.

You’re shaking almost uncontrollably now. Adrenaline and fear mixing in your stomach to create a cocktail of 100 proof nausea and anxiety. You’re in an entirely separate room but every hit makes you flinch like it’s coming straight for you. It keeps going. On and on and on, and you’re getting more agitated by the second, nerves ramping up. Smack smack SMACK. A whine. Muttering voices. You shake your head to clear the black spots. You can’t stop picturing Simon treating YOU like that. Hitting YOU so hard you slide across the floor. God you’re scared. This punishment is the worst you’ve heard so far, and even though Johnny is technically the one who wrought this whole situation upon you, you want, NEED, his suffering to end before your brain splits in half and you completely lose your mind out of fear.

Trembling fingers come up to the bars of your-no, johnny’s- no, THE dog cage, flexing against the metal. When you clear your throat, you find it so dry it feels like you haven’t spoken in days. You swallow a few times to build up both nerve and saliva.

“Stop.” Christ it’s basically a whisper. Maybe you HAVEN’T spoken in days, it’s hard to tell really. But even your own ears had trouble picking up that pathetic cry.

This time, you hit the bars a little bit and try to yell. “Stop!”

But the punishment DOESN’T stop, doesn’t even slow down from the sound of it. Christ, Simon might actually kill him. Then there’ll only be you for him to focus on. You really rattle the bars now, finally seeming to find your voice.

“Stop! Stop it!”

Silence. Instant and total silence. The air seems to have been vacuum sucked from the entire house. Despite how much you were begging god for it just seconds ago, the quiet suddenly seems so, SO much worse than the noise. Maybe this was a mistake. Fingers still wrapped in the cage bars, you sit there trembling and waiting to see what’s going to happen.

The creaking of the floorboards is the first indication that anyone else is still alive in the abode. You know it’s Simon’s boots because you’d seen Johnny barefoot before the whole incident lit off. Slow, methodical steps from the next room followed by the sound of something heavy being dragged across the hardwood floors. The seconds tick by like they’re being dragged through molasses. By the time Simons big black boot steps over the threshold of the bedroom, your eyes are glued to the floor, body seizing up periodically with involuntary shakes.

You started this. But any confidence you had is gone with the wind. You can’t even make yourself look up. Fuck, FUCK, you should’ve let Simon kill the idiot. When he fully enters the bedroom you see he’s half dragging Soap behind him by the hair, and you flinch. He comes to a halt in front of the cage and releases his hand from Soap’s head, letting the younger man basically collapse on the floor at his feet. Then Simon slowly crouches down in front of the cage, craning his neck to try and get a good look at your face. Every move is so slow and calculated, you know you’re in for it. You can tell you’ve really upset him now. You’re still too nervous meet his eyes.

“You say something?” He growls, actually literally GROWLS the words out like it pains him to even be in your presence.

When you still don’t look at him, he snaps his fingers at your face until your gaze finally flickers up to his. “Oi! I asked you a question, girl.”

You know you have to respond, and you know you probably look like a dumbstruck fish when your mouth opens and closes a few times. Eyes dropping back down to Soaps body on the ground, you manage to get out a few words. “I just…please stop hurting him. Please. Please I can’t-“ But even those few words have you choking up and starting to hyperventilate, anxiety ramping to a full blown panic attack.

Simon cocks his head again and looks you up and down. The silence besides your panicked crying and johnnys breathing weighs heavy for a long moment before Simon chuckles, and the tension seems to break immediately. The masked man in front of you relaxes his shoulders and shakes his head.

“Aww you hear that, pup? Our girl’s already worried sick over you.” The condescension drips like poison from his mouth, but underneath it all you think he might genuinely be finding this kind of funny.

Johnny groans in response from the ground, but when Simon cards a hand through his hair, he sighs and lifts his head from the floor to lean into the touch.

“Go on boy, tell ‘er you’re alright.” Simon says, nudging Johnny’s back in a place he must have hit earlier, because John practically whines at the touch.

“ ‘S okay Bonnie…” he mumbles. “Was a bad boy…’ave to take my punishment now.” At this, Simon seems to rumble an agreeing sound.

“You’ll get it one day” Soap adds, even as you’re starting to shake your head in disbelief. At this, Simon lets out a real laugh, seemingly uncaring as you flinch back further into the corner of the cage, trying to form any kind of distance between yourself and these two fucking psychopaths.

hello!!!! i have literally nothing to add but this was so so good!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

#asks and answers #dlmliyh

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badbatchposts · 2 months

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Quiet Corners of the Galaxy, Ch. 18

Fic Teaser: While on a routine mission for Cid, the Bad Batch encounter a woman fleeing from the Empire. Crosshair suspects her seemingly free-spirited, nomadic existence is actually a cover for something else, but struggles to keep his attraction toward her in check as their personalities and ideals clash.

Relevant tags/content warnings: Crosshair/Original Female Character, Slow Burn, Enemies to Lovers, Periodic Smut, Canon-Typical Violence, Alcohol Use

Read the full fic so far on AO3

Read previous chapters on Tumblr: Ch. 1 l Ch. 2 l Ch. 3 l Ch. 4 l Ch. 5 l Ch. 6 l Ch. 7 l Ch. 8 l Ch. 9 l Ch. 10 l Ch. 11 l Ch. 12 l Ch. 13 l Ch. 14 l Ch. 15 l Ch. 16 l Ch. 17

Chapter 18 summary: Crosshair does not like this feeling. Hunter does not like Dara's suspicious behavior.

Crosshair was experiencing that unpleasant, swooping feeling in his chest again. All he could do for a moment was stare; even in the fading evening light, his eyesight was too good for him to convince himself that he was seeing anything else besides what was right in front of him.

He was delusional, thinking Dara might want to stick around. Thinking of telling her about Pabu.

Of course she wanted Howzer. Howzer, who could be charming and kind with seemingly no effort, when Crosshair could barely manage a supportive word as she was hurting—and even then, only because he knew she was too drunk to remember. Howzer, who had stood up against the Empire on Ryloth because he knew it was the right thing to do—unlike Crosshair, who had arrested him. Crosshair was already certain: Dara didn’t need to know all the terrible things he had done to despise him, to prefer the company of the reg captain and even his own brothers. He knew Dara would never choose him.

But Crosshair was also experiencing another feeling, one far more familiar: a heat creeping up the back of his neck that had him clenching his fists and snarling his mouth into a glower to rival his best.

No, Dara would never choose him, but that didn’t mean he would hesitate to interfere. He might have been full of self-loathing, but he was nevertheless a proud man, and he wasn’t about to simply let Howzer have someone he wanted for himself.

The couple still hadn’t noticed his presence as Howzer pulled back, sweetly stroking his thumb over Dara’s face where the bruise from the bar fight was still visible. The bacta had been administered too late, and it would be slower to heal. Crosshair’s jealousy at seeing Howzer touch her warred with his guilt at not having treated her injuries himself, or even having stopped the pirates before they could ever hurt her.

“What happened there?” Howzer asked. Their faces were still only centimeters apart as they stared unhurriedly into one another’s eyes.

Dara smiled charmingly. “You should see the other guy.”

“Like you can remember,” Crosshair interrupted snidely. Howzer and Dara both pulled away with a start, finally noticing Crosshair standing a few paces away, arms crossed irately in front of him. Of the two, he couldn’t decide whose glare was more venomous. Probably Dara’s.

“What do you want?” she demanded impatiently.

Crosshair raised a careful, indifferent eyebrow at her before shifting his focus to Howzer.

“Gregor should be arriving any minute. Rex wants you there for debrief.”

Howzer’s shoulders relaxed, and he turned a charismatic smile back towards Dara. He let one finger come to rest affectionately beneath her chin for a moment.

“Duty calls,” he shrugged. With a final wink at the woman, he strode away, rounding the corner toward the entrance to the warehouse.

Dara sighed, dropping all pretense of sweetness and charm. “Great timing, asshole,” she grumbled.

Crosshair strode closer to where she was still perched on the edge of the crate. “What? Hunter wasn’t enough for you?” he spat.

“Hunter will barely come near me. Which you’re aware of, since I’m sure you had something to do with it.” She rolled her eyes and met his gaze defiantly.

Now that she mentioned it, Crosshair hadn’t particularly noticed the same number of flirtations or casual touches between them recently—not since the villa heist, at least. He wasn’t sure what had changed. Sure, he had warned Hunter away from Dara early on, but his brother certainly wasn’t in the habit of listening to him for no reason. Perhaps Hunter had decided it was better to keep things professional with the new member of their team.

Crosshair took a step closer. “Maybe you just aren’t fooling him as well as you think.”

She gritted her teeth, working her jaw in frustration. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He laughed coldly. “It means you’re not nearly as sweet or friendly or agreeable as you’re pretending. Underneath it all, you’re just like me. Angry. Bitter. Tough. Mean. That’s who I first saw through my scope. That’s who you really are.”

“You don’t know anything about me,” she snapped. He could tell that she wanted to storm off, but he was too close to where she was seated now for her to get up without pushing against him. When she raised her hands to shove him away, he caught her by the wrists. Slowly, meeting her eyes that flashed at him like lightning in a storm, he lowered her arms and held them at her side, pressed against the surface of the crate. He moved even closer, leaving only centimeters between them.

“I know plenty,” Crosshair purred. “Like just how badly you want me.”

Dara laughed, letting some of the frustration bleed out of her expression to be replaced with disdain. “Sure. That’s why I was just kissing Howzer. You’re an arrogant son of a schutta, you know that?”

It was Crosshair’s turn to chuckle smugly. “I know that you want me because last night I watched you sucker punch a pirate just for putting his arm around you.” He released her wrists only to slide his hands up along her forearms to her shoulders, then stroked one finger along her neck and gently curled it through a lock of her soft, silver hair. “And I know you wouldn’t hesitate to do that to me unless you wanted this.”

Her eyes had fallen closed, her breathing gone just an iota heavier. Crosshair leaned in closer, his mouth a hair’s breadth away from her throat. He nosed a trail along her neck and jaw up to her ear, knowing she could feel the warmth of his respiration against her skin.

“Is that it?” he whispered. “Been thinking about me since I kissed you, burk’yc? Been wanting more? Because I could do things to you Howzer’s never even dreamed of. In fact, I think that’s what you’ve wanted this whole time.” He grinned wickedly at Dara’s nearly imperceptible shudder. “I bet you’re tired of being in control all the time. I bet you like it rough.”

Dara was biting her lip, eyes still screwed shut, but when he moved back slightly and took her chin between his thumb and forefinger they fluttered open. Her wide-open pupils flicked urgently down to his mouth, and he knew he had her. But then—

“You were there last night?” The tense set to her jaw was back, her eyes narrowed and fiery.

Crosshair scoffed. “I’m the reason we didn’t have to scrape your sorry shebs up off the floor of the bar.”

That seemed to bring her fully back to herself, and Dara shoved him in the chest. He could have stood his ground easily, but he took a step back, allowing her the space, feeling the anger and jealousy boil back up inside of him.

“I don’t know what I said to you,” Dara eked out through gritted teeth, “but whatever it was, I do not want you.”

“Fine,” Crosshair snapped back. “Have fun with Howzer.” Without another word, he stalked off into the gathering darkness, leaving Dara still seated on the crate, rubbing a frustrated hand over her tired eyes, behind him.

***

She needed to get her kriffing shit together.

Here she was, again, lying awake at night in her hammock in the Marauder, angry, restless—and uncontrollably aroused.

Thinking of that asshole.

She had better things to be doing. In fact, earlier she also had better things to be doing, better things than kissing Howzer, but sweet stars and galaxies, she hadn’t had sex in over a year and if she didn’t get laid soon she was going to make a terrible mistake.

Probably a terrible mistake involving that asshole.

Crosshair was driving her crazy. She was losing it. She was descending into madness, just short of certifiable. Howzer was nice, good-looking, and most importantly, uncomplicated. She didn’t need the sniper, she didn’t want that asshole, she didn’t, he absolutely did not get her fired up in a way that she hadn’t felt in—

It didn’t matter. This was all getting too complicated. She should’ve extricated herself from all this rotations ago, and now it was too late.

She needed to get her shit together.

Dara swung herself carefully out of her hammock, padding against the cold durasteel floor on bare feet. The members of the Batch that had turned in for the night were all asleep by now, and Echo and the other men were in the warehouse, reminiscing about war stories or maybe going over plans for whatever it was a group of rogue clone deserters got up to. Her steps were quiet, careful, practiced as she left the cargo hold and made her way out of the Marauder and into the breezy night.

She had work to do.

***

The careful, quiet footsteps weren’t nearly quiet or careful enough for Hunter not to hear them. They would have been, for anyone else. As it was, the Sergeant was awakened instantly. He was always a light sleeper, and he was trained to recognize the sound of someone sneaking around, even when the noise just barely filtered through the edges of his unconsciousness.

It was someone who wasn’t wearing boots, who was trying hard to go unnoticed. The familiar tread of someone he’d gotten used to hearing pad around the Marauder in recent weeks. Someone who wasn’t one of his brothers.

Dara had been restless all day, although, as usual, she was good at projecting ease, maintaining control. She just wasn’t quite good enough to get past Hunter. Not when he could smell her stress, hear the just-off beating of her heart.

Maybe he was about to find out the source of that restlessness.

Hunter slipped out of bed to follow her. His own footsteps were silent, and he blended with the gloom. This was what he was made for—to track his prey.

Outside the Marauder, Dara darted between shadows through the swaying grasses, cautiously approaching Rex’s ship. Hunter watched at a distance as she entered the empty transport, able to detect the slight sounds of tapping keys that meant she was fiddling with the consoles. No part of the engines clicked on, no alarms sounded, but he could feel a delicate humming in his brain that indicated she was operating the electronics. He heard Dara’s near-silent huff of frustration before she slipped back outside, dashing her way over to Gregor’s ship instead, where she repeated the process.

Whatever she was up to, Hunter didn’t think it meant anything good.

A few minutes later, Dara exited the ship, her shoulders tensed and face screwed up in annoyance. Hunter had to admit that Crosshair was right: unaware that she was being observed, her careful façade dropped, Dara seemed much less friendly. And she was maybe hiding more than they had even expected.

The woman made her way carefully to the entrance of the warehouse, pressing her back close to the wall beside the open door, listening intently. Hunter tuned in his own enhanced hearing to Echo’s voice as he chatted quietly with Rex, Gregor and Howzer both snoring lightly nearby where they had surely nodded off after a few too many swigs from the bottle Gregor had cracked open earlier in the evening.

“It’s getting worse out there, Rex,” Echo sighed. “I know we’re doing the right thing, but it’s still tough for me to leave the others behind when you need me. They all understand, but Omega takes it hard every time.”

“How is the kid? She didn’t want to come with you boys for these last few jobs?” Rex replied.

Echo chuckled. “At first she wanted to stay on Pabu with all her new friends, but we delayed coming back between missions because we didn’t want Dara to find out about her before we knew we could trust her. When we called Omega up today she was about ready to ream us out for leaving her behind for so long.”

Hunter pulled out his comm, frantically tapping away a message to the cyborg:

Code Leebsie-Lurker

“I imagine that’s tough for Hunter. He hates saying no to her,” Rex responded.

The Sergeant felt the faint electronic pulse of his message being received, then a moment of quiet. He imagined Echo was passing the meaning of the communication—you have an eavesdropper—along to the Captain via hand signals.

“Just like you could never say no to Fives,” Echo changed the subject. “Remember when he convinced you to…”

Their conversation was smoothly derailed into innocuous recollections about the war. Dara hovered outside the warehouse, listening persistently, for a further half an hour before calling it quits and making her way back into the Marauder. All the while, Hunter lurked, watching her, from the shadows.

He woke his brothers before sunrise the next morning while Dara’s even breaths showed she was sleeping deeply, using hand signals to usher them silently out of the ship and into the warehouse. When they were safely inside and his enhanced senses ensured him they were not being overheard, Hunter crossed his arms, his expression tense and serious.

“We have a problem.”

Next chapter

Tag list: @stardusthuntress @skellymom @megmegalodondon @somewhere-on-kamino

Thanks again to @cloneflo99 for the amazing banner!!!

#the bad batch #star wars #bad batch #clone force 99 #tbb crosshair #the bad batch fanfiction #clone wars fanfiction #tbb hunter #tbb echo

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limepigeon · 9 months

Text

Fallen Hero Fanzine 2024 - Info and Theme Poll

All info is under the cut since I don't want to clutter your dash too much! EDIT: Tumblr hates multiple choices for Polls apparently, you can vote but also write in replies (or send anonymous through dm, but please don't send multiple of the same option to get what you want, let's keep it fair!) if you want to vote for more than one option! (Sorry for the inconvenience!)

Hi everyone!

Since I got the feedback on the interest check for a possible Fallen Hero Fanzine it seems like we have some interest and I’ve been looking into various ways we could do this. As I’m big on collaboration and everyone getting a say, I was thinking that deciding on a theme for the zine could be our first collaborative step.

I’ve made a poll (found further down in this post) with 7 options for you to vote on. Descriptions/explanations are found right below the poll so make sure to read those before casting your vote. We’re keeping this first zine sfw, please keep that in mind if suggesting themes of your own. Voting doesn’t tie you to contributing to the zine.

Jumping into something headfirst without knowing what you’ll find on the other side is scary, that’s why I’ve written a short list of what I have in mind for this zine.

The zine will be 100% free and non-profit, this also means no compensation for the contributors. Theme: TBD through majority vote Number of contributors: Max 30 (I would love to have more but, unless someone can help me with admin stuff, I think that’s my limit for how much organising and planning I can do on my own). Rating: SFW. Innuendos, cursing, violence and the like is okay but not straight up sex. Format: Digital/e-zine, with permission to print at home for personal use only. I will put together a bonus version made for easy to print at home, with instructions for how to assemble it. Media types allowed: Any visual media suited for print as long as it’s your own (e.g. illustrations, sketches, photography, collages, short comics, cosplay etc). Keep in mind that if you make a collage or mood board, all pictures must be your own (or have the rights to). Any writing as long as it’s your own (e.g. short stories, poetry, analyses, personal anecdotes etc). Pages in zine per contributor: 2. Time frame and deadlines: TBD but I plan on us having it finished around September/October of 2024, with some reservations.

I hope this has been informative so far, if you have questions you can either reply to this post (so everyone else can see the question and reply), or dm me if you want to be anonymous.

Now, let’s get to voting on a theme! Descriptions for themes under the poll.

Nemesis - More action focused, showdowns, heroes and villains battling it out in their suits! Some softer moments could fit in here as well but if too many opt towards it I might steer some of the submissions to make sure the zine in whole stays on theme. Coming Home - New beginnings, finding your place. It could be sweet and cozy, finding friends, or stepping into your own skin for the first time. Interpret as you like, but the main focus should be on the concept of “home”, whatever that means to you or the characters you choose to portray. Los Diablos - Snippets and snapshots from the city and lives you are sworn to protect or destroy. HG’s lair, Herald’s apartment, or a sewer (sorry, secret base), as well as the people found in these places. Nightmares - The bad vibes (tm) one. The Heartbreak Incident, decanting, paranoia, all the nasty bits you don’t want people to find. This one is open to more possible body horror than the other themes. Ship specific - Pick this one if you want a more romance focused theme, and specify in replies which characters you’d want in centre. Please write Ship Theme before the characters in your reply. I have another idea! - Got an idea for a theme that isn’t in the poll? Pick this one and specify in replies what it is! Please specify even if someone has the same idea, or close to, as you. Please write Theme Suggestion before the theme in your reply. No theme - Don’t feel like sticking to a theme? Want to create an amalgamation of everyone’s mind stuff without any limits or guidelines? This choice is for you.

#fhr #sidestep #fallen hero #fallen hero rebirth #fallen hero retribution #fanzine #fallen hero fanzine 2024

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not-poignant · 4 months

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Hi Pia

Feel free to ignore if this is unwelcome, but have you ever thought about publishing traditionally to sublimate your income and draw in new readers? I know you've self published two books already and that you didn't feel like they did very well, but maybe the experience would be different if someone else was in charge of marketing and all the other business stuff?

Obviously everyone's experience is different but as an author myself who's published both trad and self, traditional publishing has been a completely different experience and has allowed me to focus more on writing because I'm not the one responsible for advertising/marketing/financing anymore.

There are a ton of literary agents nowadays that want to represent diverse and lgbtqia+ fiction, some of them even in Australia.

Websites like Reedsy, AgentQuery and Jerichowriters have extensive directories to find literary agents.

(This is lengthy folks so I'm putting the other two parts (and my response) under a read more! Also putting it under a read more so the anon can skip my response since it's very 'here's all the reasons I can't do this' and they just might not want to read that, lmao)

(continued -> )

Trad publishing houses have better resources for marketing and helping authors get more attention than any self publishing website could.

Obviously most authors, unless they're really prolific, don't get a huge advance (the average is between $1000 - $5000) but getting your foot in the door or on the traditional publishing "ladder' so to speak can have a huge benefit for your serials. Because it gives you more exposure. Plus it's in the agent's best interest to find a publishing house that accepts stories that contain darker themes and negotiate the best deal for you.

For some reason places like Amazon and the like accept and keep up more "dark" books that are traditionally published than they do with self pub ones. Maybe because they have more respect or leniency for publishing houses? I have no idea. But you could use this to your advantage. I think I remember you mentioning that writing novels felt quite isolating to you? But you already have 2 completed novels (3 if you count the fae one) that you could potentially revisit or rewrite to your liking and get them represented by agents.

You already have a loyal readership and that's very attractive to trad pub houses and agents.

As well as trad publishing, you could also make s simple website that doesn't require much maintenance. It could be just a landing page that says something about you and then has links to your tumblr and patreon where you're more active. That way you increase the chances of getting your serials found by additional readers and also come across looking more "professional". Not that you're not professional now. You are and I admire you greatly, but the unfortunate reality is a lot of people still judge by appearances and some will be more drawn to an author's website than a tumblr page, at least at first. So I think having a simple landing page would open up another door for you to benefit from.

Trad publishing is work but definitely not as much as self publishing, and you can continue on with your serials. Getting an agent can be time consuming but I personally believe the pros outweigh the cons and I also believe that your stories would be a huge treasure to the growing lgbtqia+ market. Seriously there needs to be more!

These are just suggestions and thoughts and like I said before, feel free to ignore. But I know you've mentioned wanting to grow your career in the past and I genuinely believe you can do so with some of these pathways.

Okay, my response. Posting this because firstly I think the suggestions could work very well for other authors reading this! And I hope they take the advice to note, and secondly because I haven't talked about this for a hot minute so let's talk about it again.

So the TL;DR is yes I have considered traditional publishing. I have actually been traditionally published in short stories, poetry, and also had my art published on covers and re: interior illustrations. But my Fae Tales works got soundly rejected when I sent them to publishing houses that were doing open calls for that sort of material. I've never heard back from an agent and I never expect to, heh.

Now for a bit more detail

I have been traditionally published before (it's how I got my writing out there long before I ever wrote serials), and yes, I have approached publishers with my writing since then. In fact Tradewinds was written for the traditional publishing market, and it got soundly rejected, and then shelved. The reasons it was rejected ran the gamut from 'I don't like that these fae eat humans no one is going to relate to these people' (while the editor then went on to publish vampire books idk) to 'There's too much worldbuilding you can't expect readers to keep up with this' to 'Your stories are too long, no one wants to read characters talking all the time.'

Meanwhile in my online serials I was getting feedback like 'my favourite chapters are the ones where the characters just sit in a room and talk' lol.

The traditional publishing world is also not quite as utopian for most authors as you make it seem. I'm friends with a lot of authors who are traditionally published because that's the world I came from, and unless they're solely in KU and doing generic rapid release formula romances, none of them are making that much money. Certainly not enough to live off. It may have been that you were very fortunate, anon, but I know hundreds more traditionally published authors that left trad pub to make money, and I know about 5 in trad pub personally who are making enough to live off of.

Only one of those is really writing what she truly loves to write, and even then, publishing houses have refused to commit to her entire fantasy series (and she's regularly in 'Top 10/20 Women Fantasy Authors in the World' lists) and forced her to finish the series prematurely. Something I never ever have to worry about in self pub.

The reality is that in trad pub these days, you're still in charge of most of your marketing unless you're one of the big earners for the publishing house. In fact I'd be expected to keep even more of a social media and marketing presence than I do now. I don't do almost any of the things you're supposed to do as an author in marketing to be appealing. I don't have a Facebook author account. I don't have an Instagram author account. I don't maintain or regularly send out newsletters (which automatically puts me in the like 0.05% of authors who make money doing this lmao).

I don't know if you ever have looked that closely into what m/m publishing houses expect from most of their authors, but the newsletter swaps, cover releases, review circuits, interview circuits and more are fucking grueling. We're expected to be responsible for our advertising and our marketing to a fairly massive degree. Some traditionally published in m/m still have to pay for their release blitzes out of pocket. These publishing houses, by and large, do not offer advances. You say most authors don't get large advances. I don't think most authors in this arena get offered advances at all unless they're somehow miraculously acquired by a Big 4.

We're expected to have an already established social media presence because of that (that's why it's so appealing to publishers that we have social media presences already, anon, so we can market, they can save money, and we still see only a minimal cut from the royalties).

And you still have to focus on your finances, because publishing houses like Dreamspinner straight up didn't pay a whole bunch of authors for so long they destroyed careers. They still haven't paid some of their authors. And they're still running a business and people still buy their books.

Trad publishing houses have better resources for marketing and helping authors get more attention than any self publishing website could.

This is true if a) they're a big publishing house and not an indie publisher of which most LGBTQIA+ publishing houses are and b) they're willing to use them on you.

The authors that make the most money get the most resources. If they believe you're going to earn back your advance and move thousands or tens of thousands of units per book, then yes, you will get those resources.

I have been told so many times now - even from friends who run publishing houses, including one who works at HarperCollins - that my work will never be mainstream enough to have broad appeal. They literally told me not to keep trying re: trad pub, because that was my dream for a long time. These folks have given me rock solid advice in the past, it's one of the reasons I'm doing so well now via Patreon + Ream. But they were like (paraphrasing) 'you don't write 60-80k romances and you don't want to and that's not your strength anyway, you're multi-genre which makes you hard to market, you write psychological and literary trauma recovery which is hard to market, you write character studies which are hard to market, publishing houses often don't commit to series anymore if the first two don't move units and if they pulled the plug you'd be contractually obliged to never finish that series until your contract was up.' I could go on, but it was like yeah...actually. Fair.

They do, but most publishing houses want very formulaic dark romance which is not what I write.

I have a 300k omegaverse slowburn that still hasn't had any penetrative sex in it, anon. Publishing houses don't want that. They don't expect anyone will wait 4 full length novels to get to literally a single penetrative sex scene.

But you already have 2 completed novels (3 if you count the fae one) that you could potentially revisit or rewrite to your liking and get them represented by agents.

If I rewrote them to my liking, trad pub wouldn't want them. They'd be too long! I think agents etc. take one look at me and go 'oh god, no thank you!' I'm not an easy sell, by any means.

Plus I'm very e.e about all of that with the knowledge that they then give me only about 10-15% of the royalties on the sales, vs. self-pub where I get around 70%, or subscription where I around 80% of it. When someone subscribes to me, they don't have to worry about 85-90% of their subscription fee going to a publishing house. I don't have to think about how many thousands and thousands of books I'd have to sell to make the same amount that I do now via subscription.

As well as trad publishing, you could also make s simple website that doesn't require much maintenance.

If it was that simple, I'd be doing it. I don't mean this in a facetious way, I mean it in a: I've made a lot of websites, in fact I run one at the moment not connected to my writing (I've been running it for so long it's now in its 20s and can probably has a driver's license). I find it so tedious that I barely remember to check in on it. But forgetting about it means there's always maintenance to keep up with when I get back to it.

Running websites is simpler than it used to be, but it's still not simple. There's hosting and hosting costs, there's server changes, there's back-end maintenance etc. I'm considering it for down the track, but there's a reason I decided to go the route of Patreon over my own site. There are authors (like Christopher Hopper) who actually do subscription through their own domain, but it's a lot of work.

Even placeholder sites are still work. They need updating, details change, story titles changing etc. Maintaining my Patreon + Ream About pages is enough, they're always both a little out of date, lol.

Not that you're not professional now.

Oh no, I mean from a 'traditional publisher looking at me to see what kind of candidate I am' I'm really not though. Like I said, I don't have the newsletter (100 subscribers who get one newsletter a year is not really a newsletter), I don't have the Facebook/Tiktok/Insta/Twitter/Bluesky/Threads accounts, etc. I write multi-genre across multiple steam levels, and I'm allergic to writing serials shorter than 150k. One of my best performing original serials was an 800k contemporary story with no sex in it but a lot of BDSM. It can't be marketed as clean or sweet, it's not high steam, an entire chapter is 'boy saves snail from rain.' Also he was cruel to animals, so not exactly what I'd call a sympathetic main.

And yet that story did so well for me via Patreon + Ream, because people want the kinds of stories that publishing houses generally don't want and I happen to be writing them.

Anon I just literally do not believe an agent would want to represent me. I have 0% belief in that. Not from a self-deprecating angle but from a 'I am not a good bet for the trad market' perspective. From a 'I have so many friends who are trad pubbed authors who stare at me like I'm insane for writing serials as long as I do' perspective. From a 'professionals in the industry have told me it's amazing I'm doing so well in serials because there's no way they'd take a risk on what I'm doing' perspective. From a 'just because it's queer and diverse doesn't mean it hits literally any other thing a trad pub is looking for' perspective. I've been doing this for 10 years. There are agents who represent work similar to mine who know what I'm doing and wouldn't touch me with a ten foot pole. They're not missing out on a trick, they know I'm not broad appeal, and they're right.

Also the only way I'd have the energy to manage trad pub is by quitting serials. And honestly, I never found trad pub all that much fun while I was doing it for non-novel stuff. It was fine, and it is nice to have my stuff out there, but it was a ton of admin and a lot of going back and forth between people who really only care about marketing a product, and that's great and what they excel at! But I'm too disabled to turn this job into something crushing just to potentially make more money, I'd rather just quit and go back onto a full Disability Pension. I can't see any way I still get to write the stories I want to write, in the way that I write them, and be remotely appealing to a single reputable trad pub or agent.

Also *gestures to everything in this article*

#asks and answers #pia on writing #pia on publishing #i appreciate your thoughts anon #and i'm so happy it's working out well for you #and that you're able to live off what you're doing #you are one of the rare outliers in the world of publishing #and i truly wish you all the success in the world #i do think a lot of your advice will go to help a lot of writers who sometimes check in #at my tumblr #but yeah no i don't even write that much 'dark' stuff in the classic sense #of what trad pub wants #right now the publishing world that i'm adjacent to #seems to view me as some kind of oddity #'i don't know how he's making an income off all this stuff that we know would never work for us'#'how odd and strange'#'best leave him alone'#most authors are thankfully not doing what i'm doing #in which case yes they should absolutely consider agent representation #and looking into trad pub #unfortunately i'm not like a CS Pacat #even though she's a role model for me #and when i tried to write for the more traditional market #which was perth shifters #i honestly really struggled

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