#its the main thing i look forward to every year

[zombiesama]

I refer to my wigs as the character they're for so I just had a very serious conversation with Aloe's cat telling her to leave Nico alone

[cloudbends]

I feel a bit wary saying this because it doesn't feel quite real yet, but! had my last week of college classes last week. I still have to get through my last exam period but it's very odd to think this degree is almost over and done with. many thoughts about it in general.

[rayvern-sheep]

Update on my mental health: I am doing better! Just in case anyone read those concerning posts the past few weeks and was worried.

I have kinda long-winded advice sorta shit under the cut if you are thinking of top surgery but know you don’t deal w/ change well, or have got it but are wondering why you still feel like shit weeks later when everyone else seems to feel better. And then some more rambling in the tags if you’re into that sorta thing.

Oh boy it’s long under the cut… Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

Some advice: if you have a hard time w/ big change, small change, any kind of change. Be prepared to have a hard time w/ top surgery recovery. The general consensus if you research it is that post-op depression is over by abt the fourth week, and that is actually deemed late by some sources. Many said the second or third week. If you are starting to feel worse after that point it does not mean you made a mistake! Don’t panic!

Even though I wrote several notes to myself before the procedure explaining that I did in fact want this, and I know I am bad w/ change, that did not help me when I was in the pits of a doom spiral. I’m ngl that was genuinely the worst I’ve been mentally in years. I had to ring a suicide hotline at one point because I thought I’d lost the point of life. Talk to someone you trust abt how you’re feeling. I just straight up sobbed into my mum’s shoulder abt how I didn’t understand anything anymore and I was terrified I’d made a mistake getting surgery. She talked me through it and reminded me that I’d wanted this for years, that I didn’t go outside w/out a binder on, etc. She reminded me that everyone deals w/ things at different times, just because most ppl feel perfectly fine by the one month mark it doesn’t mean I would. Then after that I just hung out w/ her. The day after that we went and did some chores outside the house. A little time outside is often a good idea, I do regret to inform you.

I’m not gonna say I’m all fixed and perfect now. I’m still low energy and back to hiding in my baggy hoodies (now I can get them on again yippee!!!) but I’m not pushing myself rn. And I wish I had some good advice other than idk have a good system of loved-ones. If you have a therapist talk to them. Don’t be like me and bottle shit up. I’m so good at bottling shit up that I do not notice smthn is getting bad until I’m at the very bottom of the fucking doom spiral and I look up and see how far I fell down it lmao.

I wrote a whole diff paragraph but deleted it. Better version though is just try not to put too much pressure on yourself. Surgery is exhausting, and feeling burned-out even after a month isn’t smthn to be ashamed of. Just focus on keeping yourself sane. If possible take it easy, do things half-assed and low-effort for a while if you can get away w/ it. Just while you mentally catch up to your new stuff.

For some ppl top surgery “fixes” all their problems, but for most it does not. Whatever mental or physical problems you had before surgery, you will still have. Now, my surgeon literally told me surgery would not fix everything. I knew this before going into this, before I even had my first conversation with him, and I still had a bad fucking time mentally. So don’t expect to feel perfect. I was in a weird surreal bubble for the first like 3(?) weeks where I was just physically recovering before my head fucking lost it.

I don’t wanna put anyone off, and tbh worrying abt how bad you’re gonna feel can be a bit of a self-fulfilling prophecy. I just wanna say that it can get rough. But if it does, you are not alone!!! You’ve not ruined your life, it’s not the end of the world, you still have something to live for. Keep pushing through, take it slow, talk to someone you trust. Try to do things that comfort you and help you feel safe. You’re gonna get through it.

Idk man I just wanted to share my experience on this. Because in my frantic research from the bottom of the pit all I could see were smiling faces saying they felt the best they’d ever felt in their life. It was euphoria all day every day. And the only ppl who weren’t feeling perfect were the ppl unhappy w/ their results. But the thing is I love my results, everything looks as expected. It’s literally how I drew it lmao, couldn’t have gone better. Not to brag sorry. But the point was, nothing was wrong physically. The majority of the physical healing was done, but my brain hadn’t been healing at all during that time. It was just putting itself to the side while the body did it’s thing. And when even proper medical sources are saying that ppl usually start to feel mentally better after the fourth week, and I was actually starting to feel shitty by that point, it rlly made me worry smthn was wrong. I was frantically trying to blame something for what I was feeling. And it was likely a whole mess of shit, with the main culprit being my inability to process change. Dude I freak out when a loved-one gets a tattoo or a piercing or changes their fucking hair. I wish I was joking, but I’m not. It stresses me out. And although I always get over it eventually, I should’ve known that this was gonna happen. After those early weeks of the itchy haze, I totally should’ve known a mental spiral was on the horizon. But I was just so lost in the sauce that was the whole experience.

I would not change the experience of top surgery for the world. I only wish I’d been more prepared for the dive my mental health would take so late in the game. I expected post-op depression. But as I said that’s usually only in the first couple of weeks. So when it didn’t happen I thought I was okay. But oooooo boy. I forgot how slow my brain is at processing shit. And hey, if I did “make a mistake” in getting my tits chopped off. If in the future I’m like “Hey I’m a woman now!” then so fucking what. There are titless women out there, and they’re no less woman than a woman w/ tits so big they break her back. Life is for living so fucking do that. I’ve not butchered or ruined my body even if my gender does change in the future. Get rekt transphobes.

ANYWAY… I think I’ve rambled enough. If I remember smthn I’ll prob add it in a RB cos this post is already long enough now. Thank fuck for the “read more” function. So I can hide all my stupid mushy shit under here and not clog up someone’s dash. Yippee!!

[floswife]

SORE LOSER - T.N X READER

Pairing: Theodore Nott x reader

Summary: Theodore and Y/n learn how to better focus their hate for each other

Warnings: SMUT, oral, dubcon..?

Author’s notes: this is my first time writing smut so I honestly apologise for how inevitably bad this will be 💀

Y/n didn’t know what it was about seeing the anger flash before Theo’s eyes when she’d taunt him, but it honestly was her main motivation when competing against him.

Like now in this quidditch match as she threw the quaffle threw the goal hoops once more, she had to turn to look at Theo for a split second just for the sake of rubbing salt into the wound. She would like to lie and say she was ashamed of her pettiness but what’s the point in that?

She had been out to get him ever since he made her cauldron explode in potions, which prompted Snape to hate her even more than he usually did with Gryffindors. Which was quite a feat, she wasn’t on a Harry Potter level of hatred but on the other hand Snape didn’t have a perpetual hard on for her mother either so that probably helped her too.

In hindsight it was a petty reason to name someone your sworn enemy, but his smug smile when he saw her turn to glare at him was enough to set her eleven year old brain off. Plus she just really liked being a hater for no reason.

After successfully winning the game she went over to Theo who was leaning against the wall, looking like a kicked puppy, she couldn’t lie, seeing him like that really did numbers on her but she wasn’t about to let that get in the way of her favourite thing to do with Theo, gloat.

“How does it feel to lose yet again, Nott?” She called out cheerily, the broad grin he loved hated so much painted across her face.

He groaned in annoyance at the sound of her voice, “leave me alone, l/n, I’m not in the mood.”

He had always been a sore loser, she laughed in amusement “or what? I’m sorry but the last I checked you don’t get to tell me what to do.”

Theo glared at her as she stood in front of him, both of them still in their quidditch uniforms, he towered over her but she did well to push that thought to the back of her mind as she had been doing ever since he annoyingly hit a growth spurt in third year. She remembered how ranted about it to her friends later on, pretending to ignore her friends knowing smirks as she’d feel a rosy blush rise to her cheeks every time she had to crane her neck to meet his cold gaze.

“Why do you always have to be such a brat?” He sneered at the girl.

“Oh I’m the brat? I’m not the one sulking like a child because I lost a match.” Y/n’s continuous retorts just made him snap.

He grabbed her wrist and yanked her to follow after him, practically dragging her, and took her under the quidditch stands.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?!” She rubbed her wrist in annoyance at his harsh grip.

“I’m gonna teach you how to shut up.” He pushed her down to her knees and she looked up at him in shock, she looked forward and saw the prominent tent in his trousers, “now be a good girl and listen to me for once.” His voice was slightly whiny as he said that, like he was begging her.

Y/n gulped, really beginning to question her morals, but all her internal monologue silenced when he unzipped his trousers and freed his member from its constraints with a throaty groan, wetness pooled between her legs at the sound and just the sight of his pretty cock. Merlin he was big.

He rubbed the tip along her lips, the salty taste of his precum invaded her tastebuds.

“Open your mouth and put that mouth to good use.” He demanded, she did as she was told and tentatively kitten licked the tip, he threw his head back in satisfaction and let out a whimper? She then wrapped her mouth around his tip and sucked.

He moaned her name out even louder, making her moan around his cock at the sound, she took as much of him down her throat as possible, she gagged when he hit the back of her throat but she powered through, bobbing her head up and down and using her hand to pump at the parts of his shaft that couldn’t fit in her mouth.

“Fuck! Just like that. Taking me so well.”

He was groaning loudly, and she suddenly gained awareness that they weren’t exactly in the most private of places, she tried to pull away to tell him to shut up but he just wrapped a hand in her hair and pushed her back down, he began thrusting his hips and fucked her mouth, tears ran down her cheeks and saliva dribbled out the corners of her mouth as he used her as he pleased. The thought of how blatantly he was using her as just an object couldn’t help but arouse her.

“Being such a good girl for me.”

He held her head down on his cock and she struggled to breath, he twitched before releasing down her throat, he pulled out and tapped her cheek, “swallow.”

He tucked himself away and she got up and stuck out her tongue to show him she swallowed.

He now smirked, “it wasn’t that hard to listen now was it?”

Y/n was still in a haze as she tried to compose herself and have the decency to at least pretend to be embarrassed and tried to pull away but he firmly placed his hands on her hips and pulled her right back against him again, “Shut up, Nott.”

He raised his brows teasingly and she couldn’t help but grow frustrated at how he had switched the tables on her so quickly when she was so clearly set up for a win.

“That’s not how someone who just had my cock down my throat should be speaking, now is it?” His voice was mocking, condescending.

She get that familiar heat pool between her thighs once more and she remained speechless, he smirked.

“Such a shame, you were gonna get a reward for being such a good girl.”

She tried to gain her composure as she scoffed, “like I’d want it.” She really did want it

He leaned in, that stupid lazy smirk on his lips again, “so you’re not soaked right now?”

Her eyes widened and he then inched his hand from her hip to under her waistband, as soon as his fingers touched her wetness that had completely soaked through her panties she moaned lightly, her eyes rolling back at the contact she was yearning this whole time.

“Theo!” She gasped.

He pulled his fingers away just as quickly as it came he pulled his finger and he brought it to his lips to suck her juices clean from it and he hummed, “so sweet.. on second thought, let’s continue this tonight, room of requirements?”

“What-“

And just like that he left her there, needy for his touch.

She really did hate him.

But he was so hot.

Looks like she had plans for the night.

Part two?

[lurochar]

Before It All (Pt. 3)

Warnings: Obsessive Alastor

Part 1 + Part 2

---------------------------------

It really was you.

His nameless Doe.

You seemed tense, clearly uneasy by the static he emitted and his presence alone by the looks of your erect ears and puffed fur of your tail.

(How cute, you had your clothes altered for your tail. A shame he hadn’t noticed it back when he had summoned you).

Alastor was now used to fellow demons being unnerved and frightened in his presence and so they should be, but you – there was no reason for you to be so anxious in his company, though he supposed he could understand it somewhat.

The power dynamics were completely turned around.

You had no advantage over him, he wasn’t that weak human anymore.

But still, Alastor didn’t like the fact you were so wary of him, so he needed to lighten the mood, break the tense atmosphere, and there was no better way than reminding you of your encounter with him when he was the weaker one, when you had the power over him, was there?

“How I’ve missed your wonderful ears, my nameless Doe.”

Alastor always did find your ears fascinating.

He may have his own pair of deer ears now and they had their uses – his auditory senses were vastly superior when compared to his human self, so much so, it took a week or two for him to adjust to sensory overload. They also gave any would-be attackers a false sense of security, he was just a deer demon, so he had to be weak.

Ripping those sorts to shreds felt much more satisfying.

But his ears were so damn sensitive to touch that Alastor had no idea how you didn’t just melt into a trembling mess when you allowed him to stroke your ears all those years ago.

He needed to move on from these thoughts before–

You blinked at his odd greeting, your body relaxing slightly from its earlier tensed position that had been poised to flee at any given second.

You blinked again.

And then you let out a loud yelp of surprise, springing forward when you felt icy cold hands playfully tug on your ears from behind. 

–before his shadow acted upon them.

You reeled around to see what had touched you, not expecting to see a grin right up in your face and you stumbled back a bit, happy enough that you didn’t embarrass yourself in front of the Radio Demon/Alastor by letting out some sort of pitiful sound like a scream or shriek.

“I do hope you can excuse my shadow’s behaviour. The poor thing can hardly contain itself, seeing it is a reflection of me.” Alastor gestured the shadow away, which it did after giving you a last glance before it vanished. “Well then, should we do now what we should have done twenty-four years ago?”

You’re unsure what he is talking about.

“Introductions, my nameless Doe! Unless you prefer that name over your real one.” Alastor bows in a flashy way. “Alastor Hartfelt! But you already knew that, correct?” He stood up straight and eyed you expectantly.

“It’s nothing special, it’s just Y/N.” You shrug before eyeing Alastor intently and you hope you don’t get killed or worse for your question. “You just seemed like a miserable boy brought up in a miserable situation, so I gave you a pass. I thought if I got rid of your main problem, maybe you could live the rest of your life normally. You didn’t even make it to forty. What happened?”

Alastor hummed. “It would turn out that my father was only a drop in the bucket. After that wretch was gone from our lives, my Mama instilled in me the importance and value of women. Women are not second-class citizens nor are they property, but this way of thinking was uncommon and misogyny was everywhere.”

You think you can guess where this is heading to…

“I killed men, men like my father. Men who see no problem in beating their wife. Degenerates that stalked the alleyways for their next rape victim. For over a decade, I was the ‘Bayou Butcher’. It’s only due to the incompetence of a hunter that I am here now.” The expression on his face was that of delight. “I have no remorse. I thoroughly enjoyed every second of it.”

Oh.

It’s… it’s not what you wanted for Alastor, but you remembered that sheer hatred in his eyes. Something that deeply rooted wasn’t so easily erased, even if the main cause was taken out of the situation.

Unfortunately, you were not wrong in guessing Alastor would eventually condemn himself to Hell.

Fortunately, you had held onto Hartfelt for the past twenty some years.

You do have another question, but you know better than to ask.

Some demons don't care, but some demons can get quite offended if asked about their appearance and why they ended up looking the way they do. It’s personal, tied to their sins in life and their manner of death.

Asking Alastor why he ended up as a deer demon, a prey-based demon, could get you killed or maybe worse.

“I was mistaken for a deer by an inept hunter who took a shot before bothering to confirm what he was shooting at.” Alastor answers easily and casually, as if reading your mind and knowing what you want to ask. “Do not be afraid to ask me anything, my lovely Doe. I assume you heard my message on one of my broadcasts, yes? I meant every word of what I said.”

Lovely Doe?

‘I told him my name…’ You decided it didn’t matter too much as it wasn’t demeaning or degrading. You’ve been called much, much worse and on a regular basis by Hartfelt, so hearing an affectionate(?) nickname was a bit of refreshing change–

Should you be thinking that way?

Your ears dropped.

“Listen, Alastor,” you noticed his eyes seemed to glow brighter from you simply saying his name, “I messed up that day. I… I shouldn’t have touched you, let alone hug you. There are countless reasons why most demons don’t have free access to the human world. Contact with demons tends to screw humans up. Even just one night with a Succubus or an Incubus can fuck up humans for months and they’re low-class demons.”

Alastor simply tilted his head.

“I’m mid-class and… and I should have known better.” You sighed. “I think I messed you up in some way by touching you and letting you touch me.”

You were taken back when Alastor started to laugh and your ears flattened completely, slightly bothered by his reaction to your words.

Did you say something amusing?

“Oh dear me, you have twisted it all around in your worrisome mind, haven’t you?” Alastor chuckled. “So you have yet to realize you saved me and my Mama from that piece of scum I had to call ‘father’? My life even? Had you not killed that man for me, I would have made a clumsy attempt to murder that man, whether I succeeded or not. Such a thing would have cost me my life much earlier. I would not have been able to pursue my career and take good care of my Mama until her final days.”

You flustered, not sure what to say back.

“I lived my life the way I wished to because you freed me from that man. I am here in Hell purely of my own actions, though perhaps a little earlier than expected. You are very much downplaying what you are to me and I cannot say I care much for it.” Alastor couldn’t help the loudening crackle of his static.

“...okay…”

“Pardon?” Alastor’s ears twitched at the mumble of your voice, though he heard you just fine. He wanted you to clarify what ‘okay’ meant and look him in the eyes as you did so. He wouldn’t trap you in a contract like the fools whose souls he owned, but with his guaranteed protection for nothing more than just staying at his side and within his sight, how could you refuse?

(Though, if you wanted to give him your soul, he certainly wouldn’t turn it down).

“Okay! Maybe I didn’t fuck you up! Maybe you were… a little ‘different’ from the start!” You weren’t sure how to say ‘psychopathic’ in a nice way. “I still felt guilty about it this entire time. I hoped differently, but I knew you would probably end up in Hell.” You admitted, huffing when Alastor let out another chuckle. “So I did something to try to make up for it in case I did mess with your mind somehow.”

“Hmm, and what is that, my lovely Doe?” Alastor’s smile seemed to widen and it may be hidden from view, his tail wagged in excitement. “You thought of me, even before I landed myself in Hell? I must say, I’m quite flattered!”

“I looked for him as soon as I got back from the human world and found him before he understood how… things worked around here.” You didn’t feel bad in the least. “So I tricked him into making a deal with me. Shelter, food, simple basics for his soul. He didn’t seem used to living on the streets, so he took it right away. He didn’t understand what it actually meant to give your soul away.”

“Well done! What a delightful little tidbit! I had no idea if you would be interested in the art of deal-making. I would be more than happy to guide you. Why, I already own a great number of souls myself.” Alastor’s smile turned a little more sinister and he felt his blood heat at the thought of watching you trick some desperate fool into giving you their soul.

He would slaughter an entire district just to see that.

“I’ve… never really thought about it? I just do what I can to get by. Prey and livestock-based demons don’t have it easy in Hell.” You were sought out for your meat after all. “Anyway, I thought I’d make it up to you by – well, that demon whose soul I own is your father’s.”

The static around Alastor went completely silent.

You swallowed thickly, suddenly nervous. “I, uh, I always intended on giving you ownership of his soul whenever you ended up here, if you ended up in Hell. You can do anything you want to him, I have no intention of interfering if you… wanted to broadcast his torment or something.”

Shit, why was Alastor staring at you like that?

Was it the wrong choice? Did he want nothing to do with his father?

“W-WAH!” It was the most pitiful fucking noise you could probably make, worse than that earlier yelp when Alastor seemed to melt into the floor through a void of shadows and then reappear right in your personal space before you comprehended what happened. That was not the reason you let out a damn bleat before you could help it, though.

Alastor was stroking your ears just as he had done twenty-four years prior.

“A gift from you is always welcome, but this – I never imagined one that would bring me such… joy. Truly, you were always meant for me, my lovely Doe.”

“S-so, I take it you want ownership of his soul?” You struggled to get the words out, feeling your vision blur for a moment. You let out a breath of relief when Alastor reluctantly released your ears, but he didn’t step away from your personal space.

“Yes. I’m more than willing to give you a soul – ten even, in return. Mama may disapprove of it, but I will pay back a thousandfold and more for what that man put her through. He will suffer the worst torture I can possibly think of.” To your amazement, Alastor’s pupils spun into a shape that resembled radio dials before returning to normal.

“It’s a gift. You don’t need to give me anything back in return.” You blinked in surprise when Alastor poked your cheek, pinching it playfully before tutting at you. “What was that?!”

“You have been here longer than me, but it seems I must teach you a few good lessons.” Alastor held out his hand invitingly. “Before this transaction, would you like a tour of my radio tower?”

You placed your hand in his. “You’re going to have to explain it like you would to a child how this radio stuff actually works. I can turn my radio on and change the station, that’s about it.”

Alastor felt that chill that followed him all his life leave him and his smile felt genuine for very few times that it was as he felt your hand wrap around his.

He may be dead and in Hell, but his (after)life was looking rather bright – he still could enjoy his passion for radio and he no longer had to hide his true sadistic nature and homicidal thoughts. Better yet, he could combine the two and broadcast tortured screams for denizens of Hell to hear!

He was powerful and feared, toppling Overlords to become himself in an extremely short period of time and he owned multiple souls to do his bidding whenever and whatever he wanted – and soon, he could add his miserable wretch of a father to his collection to torment all he likes.

Best of all, he finally found you, the demon who made this all possible for him and now that he had you in his grasp, there was no conceivable way he would ever let you elude him. He could certainly give you the illusion of freedom and space if that’s what you wanted.

He was charming, he knew that, it’s all he needed to win you over.

Perhaps it would take a little time and patience, but he would get what he wanted in the end like he always did.

His lovely Doe. His new wife.

It was a dream that Alastor was going to turn into his reality.

----------------------------------------------------------

I hope this ending was satisfying

Tags: @alishii @yourdoorisunlocked @godsent69 @eris-norwega @catticora @tayraedoll @michi-keinz @martinys-world @n0tmentallystable @xalygatorx @everwolf-20 @yui-onnero

[familyvideostevie]

time you will not spend alone

joel miller x fem!reader, 18+ mdni romance at the end of the world is this: flowers, lazy nights in bed after long days, and savoring every moment | or, joel makes you something. jackson!joel au, fem!reader, fluff, maybe a bit cheesy but idgaf, ellie cameo cause i can't do a damn thing without her, tommy gets some page time here too, smut (riding, unprotected p in v sex, some finger sucking lol), tenderness, gift giving | 5.7k a/n: i think this is the last part of the just and just as series for the foreseeable future. thank you for reading about this little au and these two lovebirds! i adore them. thank you @frannyzooey and @macfrog for your eyes and support on this. and thank you everyone else for being patient. <3

Spring sweeps into the valley seemingly overnight. The peaks remain snow-capped but the bare branches of trees between the evergreens begin to bud. Chilly mornings lose their bite and frost turns to dew and every day there is more light.

You've always thought Jackson looks its best in winter, but it's a damn sight to see as life and color return. And the latter is your favorite part -- the rolling hills outside the walls and the forest patrol paths are dotted and then overflowing with flowers.

It makes you feel more alive. Patrol isn't a freezing ordeal anymore -- it's an opportunity to see the remaining beauty in the world.

Today's shift is short and easy but you find yourself lingering, running your hands through pine needles and turning your face to the sun. Your horse is happy to munch on a patch of grass in a clearing just off the main trail, but your patrol partner is less than impressed.

"Are you serious?" Ellie moans. "You're stopping again? What the fuuuuuuuuck."

She sags in the saddle. The pout on her lips makes her look like a kid sent to bed without supper rather than an almost-twenty-year-old forced to spend some extra minutes in the fresh air. Shimmer has no problem chewing on some weeds despite her rider's moaning.

"Let me enjoy the sun," you say. "When you get older you'll appreciate the little things, too."

You hop off your horse and Ellie sighs loudly.

"Jesus, you're not that old," she mutters. "Seriously, what are you doing?"

You sweep your arms around you, gesturing at the meadow. "These flowers are nice," you tell her, pointedly. She adjusts the rifle slung over her shoulder. "I think I'm going to pick some and bring them home."

She snorts. "Oh, is Joel suddenly into flowers?"

You ignore her bait and crouch, gaze sweeping over the array of colors in front of you. You tried to learn the names of flowers years ago when you found a book on them in an old bookstore but they never stuck. Purples, pinks, and yellows, large petals and small ones, delicate yet hardy to survive the world past its end.

Joel isn't a fussy man. Young fathers don't get to be, and anyone alive these days sheds that impulse just as quickly. He's happy to wake up every day with you by his side, his kid in the garage out back and walls around everything he loves, keeping it all safe.

It makes it both easy and hard to please him -- you want to give him everything but he seems to want nothing. A perfect paradox, a puzzle to solve. 

God, you love him. You love spring, you love Joel. Everything feels good.

So, you start to gather stems, snapping them at their bases, humming as you work.

"How do you choose which ones to pick?"

"Fuck," you gasp, careening forward onto one palm and looking over your shoulder. Ellie is off her horse and much closer than before, standing directly behind you. "Jesus, you're stealthy."

She shrugs, her smirk a pleased slash across her face. "You're oblivious as fuck."

You roll your eyes at her.

"Seriously," Ellie says, crossing her arms. She jerks her chin at the small bouquet you've got in one hand. "How do you make it look so nice?"

"Oh, so we've moved on from the making-fun-of-me part of this?"

She crouches next to you, elbows on her knees.

"I, uh -- " Her cheeks go pink, freckles standing out against her blush. "Dina likes flowers."

You bump her shoulder with yours. "I'm going to be so nice and not tease you."

"Fuck off," she scoffs, tucking her smile into her shoulder.

It's quick work. Ellie follows your lead, balances out the blooms she picks with some leafy weeds. She ties them together with one of the minimum four spare hairbands she has on her person at all times -- bits of cloth, occasionally a rare unused elastic from before if she's found some on patrol.

"Isn't it kinda shitty?" she muses, nimble fingers turning her bouquet this way and that to admire it. "We're killing them. The flowers, I mean."

"Little late to have a conscience about killing," you say lightly. The two rabbits she pulled from Jackson snares hang from her saddle. You've seen her in action, too -- gun raised, hands steady, blood splattered across her cheek. It's not an accusation, far from it. Violence is a language you both speak, one she's known for most of her still-short life.

She rolls her eyes, every bit a teenager. "Whatever."

You sigh. "You're right, though," you say. "There were whole shops dedicated to this before. Selling flowers, making bouquets and centerpieces and all that shit."

She probably knows this, but she lets you describe it. Ellie soaks up bits of the old world like it will materialize before her if she listens hard enough. Joel says it was much worse when she was younger, right after they settled into Jackson. She wanted details about everything and watched every movie she could get her hands on. You think she was satisfying her curiosity, sure, but also that she was trying to understand him better -- but didn't know how to say so.

"Weird," she mutters. "And you just...bought them for other people?"

"Or yourself." You pat her shoulder and stand. Your horse tries to nibble on your flowers before you haul yourself back in the saddle. "It was just a nice thing to do, I guess."

"Killing something to make someone else happy," Ellie says with a dry laugh. She tucks her bouquet in the crook of her arm once she's back in the saddle. "I guess everyone does that these days."

It's absurd when she puts it that way, but it's true. You've all got blood on your hands. You would kill for this girl, for Joel, for pretty much anyone in Jackson. And you have.

The flowers are for Joel, they're for your house, they're for you. Something beautiful to bring home alongside your dirt stains and scarred hands, your haunted eyes and nightmares. No one is spared those.

It's only mid-morning by the time you get back to the wall. You and Ellie left at dawn, short sticks drawn for the early shift. She leaves you in the stables with a mock salute and a shout of thanks, practically jogging to Dina's to give her the flowers.

You're untacking your horse when you hear familiar laughter, a deep chuckle and Ellie's faint indignant protest.

"Mornin'," Joel says from behind you. "Was hopin' to catch you at the gate."

"Can you hold these?"

You blindly extend the hand with the flowers. His fingers carefully extract the bouquet and you return to brushing out your horse.

"Does this have somethin' to do with Ellie runnin' out of her with flowers of her own?"

"Never let anyone say you're unobservant, Joel Miller."

He snickers. You leave your horse with a final pat on the neck and thanks for a job well done.

When you face Joel, he looks tired -- he's been pulling extra long days replacing windows and roof tiles after the winter's damage. God knows that man never seems fully rested, but it's a little worse when the seasons change.

He's told you time and time again that standing two stories off the ground is a hell of a lot safer than fighting some Infected on patrol, but you still worry. Just like you know he worries about you beyond the walls, how he's a little tenser whenever you're not in sight, whenever he hasn't seen Ellie for a few days ‘cause they're both busy. It's just how he loves. It's how you both love.

You make no move to take the flowers from him, instead brushing some sawdust from his shoulder.

"Did you have a job already?" you ask.

"Small one. Fixin' a crooked over mailbox." He looks pointedly at his full fist. "You gonna explain now?"

"They're for you."

Joel blinks once, twice, brows furrowing like you're speaking a different language. Maybe a few years ago you'd start to feel self-conscious, unsure of your romantic gesture and insecure in his reaction. But now, as fully in love and connected to this man as you are, you lean in.

"If you're too manly to carry flowers through town --"

You make to take them from him but he snaps out of his daze and wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you to his chest in a smooth motion.

He also holds the bouquet in the air and out of reach.

"Hey, now," he says. "Hands off. These ain't your flowers."

"I picked 'em," you remind him, poking him in the ribs for good measure. 

He flinches just a little but doesn't move. His embrace is warm and familiar and you sink into it. "Gettin' romantic," he mutters and brings the flowers back down to eye level to examine them.

"I'm just trying to catch up to you," you say into his jacket. He huffs and his palm rubs a slow line up and down your arm.

You wiggle out of his embrace to shoulder your pack.

"I am pretty romantic," he muses.

It's true. Even if he's joking and even if no one but you gets to see it, Joel has always made sure you feel loved. Courtship and romance look different these days, but it still comes naturally to him -- loving. Dinner dates, jewelry, and trips to the airport have become a battered paperback, a sharpened knife, and bloody knuckles, but it rings just as true. He loves you and he loves his family the best way he knows how – by keeping you all safe.

And you do your best to convey the same thing. You tell him, of course, but you also mend his shirts and chop wood when his back is acting up, and you look after his kid like she's your own.

Joel deserves to know that he can receive all that he gives, too – the protection, the tenderness, the beauty. Moments of softness and rest where he knows he’s taken care of, thought of, that he matters beyond the things he can do for everyone else.

So, you also do things like bring him flowers.

Sometimes you feel like it will never be enough. You will never have enough time to show him how much he means to you, how he's saved you, how important and cherished and loved he is. How good he is.

Joel reaches for your face with his free hand. He traces the line of your cheekbone with his thumb and smirks when you inhale sharply. Another patrol returns and the stables are suddenly louder and more crowded than before. If you're both free for the rest of the day, you want to drag him up to your bedroom and spend the hours there. You want to show him, for the millionth time, how much you love him.

"Okay, Mr. Pretty Romantic," you say, grabbing his hand and tangling your fingers together. "Let's go home."

___

Joel is hiding something from you.

The flowers last for a week and you watch him eye them and smile every time he enters the kitchen.

But after they droop and go in the compost pile, something shifts. Something subtle, sure, but you spend most of your waking hours looking for or at Joel, so you notice.

He starts keeping his workshop door closed. Normally you'll sit and watch him work, or he'll teach you a few chords here and there on the guitars he's making, but your lessons move to the porch and the upstairs hallway loses the scent of wood glue and stain.

In fact, he actively steers you away from the room altogether. He's all just needs a deep clean and it's messy, is all. It's not rocket science -- he's making something for you, clearly. But giving him a hard time is too fun to pass up.

One night, you and Ellie wait at the bottom of the stairs. There's a dinner and movie night in the old church and you're taking the opportunity to make it a family outing.

"You coming?" you holler up the stairs. You hear the door creak open.

"Gimme a second," he calls back down.

"Jesus," you mutter. You tap the side of Ellie’s sneaker with your boot. "You know anything about that?"

Honesty is important between all of you, but you know Joel and Ellie need to have their secrets. There is too much tangled history between them for you to understand it all. It's important to you that they have a relationship all their own, even if it means they scheme.

Ellie is examining her switchblade with intense focus. "I might," she says with a smirk. "He's a lovesick loser, I'll tell you that."

You lean on the banister and raise your eyebrows. "Do you remember when you asked me how to embroider so you could put Dina's name on her jacket?"

The knife swings closed with a snick and she rolls her eyes at you, cheeks pink.

"Shit, dude," she says. "Why do I tell you anything?"

"She liked the flowers, though, didn't she?"

Ellie crosses her arms and smiles at whatever memory she's seeing in her mind. "Yeah," she says. "She did. Jesse gave me so much shit, though --"

The door upstairs closes and Joel's heavy footfalls cut her off.

"Finally," you grumble. He trods down the stairs, arms half in his jacket when he catches sight of the two of you. "Are you hiding state secrets in there?"

"What the fuck does that mean?" Ellie asks.

"Might be," is all he says. He's got that twinkle in his eye that means mischief but he looks proud of himself. You can let him have this, whatever this is. You trust him and you'll find out eventually.

"Alright," you say, pushing off the banister and heading for the door. "You're going to breathe toxic fumes with the door closed."

"No, seriously," Ellie says. "What kind of secrets would a state be keeping?"

"Ain't nothin' toxic in there," he says lightly. He bumps Ellie's shoulder with his. "C'mon."

She throws her hands up in the air. "You know, it's shitty when you ignore me."

"Did you hear somethin'?" Joel says to you.

You shake your head, swallowing your laughter. "No," you say. "Nothing."

"Assholes." She pushes past you and down the steps onto the street. "I'm going to make sure there are no mashed potatoes left when you get there."

__

You don't mind letting Joel do whatever he's up to in all of his spare moments. It does mean you have more time to yourself, so you pick up some extra wall shifts.

And when one of those shifts is with Tommy? Well, you can't help but needle him a little bit about it all.

"Do you know what your brother is up to?" you ask him.

The wind today carries some lingering winter bite, so you've got the collar of your coat pulled up around your ears. Tommy’s hair whips around his face when he raises his eyebrows at you.

"Gonna have to be more specific," he says. "My brother is always up to some shit."

"I think he'd say the same thing about you."

Tommy laughs. He's got the reputation for being the more easy-going of the Millers, but you know he's more a match for Joel than most think. Out in the world, they work as one, silent and deadly, always in step when it counts. They still speak a language all their own with just a look and you see so much of them in each other when you pay attention.

"Well, I learned it all from him," he says. He adjusts his grip on the rifle and sighs. "I happen to know what you're talkin' 'bout, though."

"Is he just telling everyone but me?"

"Nah," Tommy scoffs. "Asked me and Ellie for help, s'all. And you know he tells that girl everythin'."

You both smile for a moment at your fondness for them.

Tommy clears his throat. "Does it bother you? Him keepin' a secret?"

You know Tommy won't let your answer get back to Joel. He's asking as your friend, as your kind-of brother. He's asking because he cares.

A patrol crests the hill, green flag waving in the air. They whistle and shout for the gate to be opened. 

You step closer to Tommy so he can hear you. "No," you say. "I just like to gossip."

"Don't I know it," he chuckles. "You two are the eyes and ears of this damn town. Knowin' everything."

"Except what happens in my own home," you tease. 

He shrugs. "You'll like it, if that helps," he adds.

"I know I will."

You look out at the world beyond the wall and smile to yourself. 

Joel has made you a few things over the years. He works wonders with his hands all the time: Beautiful, intricate carvings for the house, for Ellie, for new babies in town. The wall of guitars, not to mention the ones he's made for kids to learn on in school. You're better at sewing than he is, but he's pretty damn good – fixing up pillowcases and blankets and clothes of all kinds. Joel is a craftsman.

Hands that hold you can also pull a trigger, punch until there's nothing left, and craft a work of art.

And he knows you. He pays attention -- there is a reason behind everything he does. If he's making you something, you know you'll love it.

"Strange, ain’t it?" Tommy says. You turn to him, a question on your face. "World ended and here we all are, happy. Makin' shit for each other. Gosspin'."

You sigh. “Took a lot to get here.”

“Damn right,” he says with a long whistle. “Lotta shit behind us.”

“Do you ever regret it?” you ask. 

Tommy considers your words. You two talk plenty, but you’ve never really spoken about the past. Joel tells you whatever you want to hear about the years before you knew him, so you’ve got a pretty good picture of their lives after the outbreak.

"Can I tell you somethin’?” Tommy asks. You nod. "Alright. I – I never thought I'd see my brother this happy again. And I wish every damn day that Sarah was here to see it. To know him this way, to meet Maria. To know you and Ellie."

Joel has said the same thing before and it’s an honor greater than you can ever explain.

"When I saw him and that girl a few years ago, I thought --" Tommy clears his throat. "I thought maybe he’d made it through all the shit we did. And I was right. She brought him through it. And now he’s here, doin’ stable life shit we dreamed about before."

"Ellie is a force," you say, a little surprised to find your voice watery. The love between Ellie and Joel is fierce and powerful, evident to anyone who witnesses it. They would do anything for each other, even though they're mending.

"She is," he says. "And so are you.” He sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “Shit, I don’t know where I’m goin’ with this. Point is – seein' him love you, too, shows me he’s through it. He's alive again, you know? And I’d do all the shit we did over again just to get us all here. So, no. I don’t regret it."

It’s nothing you haven’t thought before, but the words work their way into your heart and sit there, heavy and warm.

“Damn,” you say. You swallow and give him a wide smile. "If you keep going, Tommy Miller, I will start crying and that would embarrass us both."

He laughs and blinks a few times. You join in, wiping your eyes.

"Alright, I won't," he says. "Jesus, all you did was ask what he's doin' in that workshop."

You clap him on the shoulder. "I won't tell anyone you started blubbering on duty."

He snorts. "Ain't that generous of you.”

__

Days pass. A week. You almost forget about Joel's project because he spends less and less time in the workshop and more on tasks around town as the days get longer. You're both busy -- chopping wood, planting bulbs for the fall, helping de-shed the horses. There's always work to be done.

After a particularly long day on your feet, you come out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel to find he's gotten home while you were in the shower.

"Hey, stranger," you say. You're mostly dry but some water drips down your back and you shiver. Joel is leaning against the headboard on top of the sheets without his shirt, reading whatever book he's onto now.

"Didn't hear me come in?" he asks. He sets his volume aside and pulls off his glasses.

"I was too busy coming back to life under some hot water." He probably heard you singing off-key to some long-lost song stuck in your head for the millionth time. "And you're quiet as hell, Joel."

He shrugs.

You just look at each other, the intimate gaze of two people who know every inch of each other and never tire of it.

The sleep pants he wears to bed this time of year are lightweight, thin enough that you can see the outline of him from here. His stomach is soft where he's bent at the waist and the trail of hair above his waistband is dark, darker than the rest of what's on his chest.

The golden expanse of his skin just begs to be touched, so you make your way over to him in your towel. He makes room for you to perch on the edge of the bed, the bare skin of your thigh pressing into his pants. His palm rests on your knee.

"I haven't seen much of you lately," you say softly. "’Cause of that damn thing you're working on."

His fingers press into your skin.

"Ain't patience a virtue, or something like that?"

"Whatever magic you're working better be worth waiting for," you tease.

Joel's hand resumes its path up your leg and he smirks.

"I can work some magic right now," he says.

You laugh, throwing your head back as his fingertips edge under the towel.

"That was awful," you say. "I should get dressed in all of my layers right now and go sleep on the couch."

You pull away from his touch so you can straddle him, your towel only held on by one hand at your breasts.

Joel snickers. "But then I wouldn't be able to do this."

Nimble fingers find your cunt between your spread legs and you gasp a laugh, one hand on his shoulder to balance you in his lap.

"Smooth," you manage. His other hand tugs on the towel and you release it, your slightly damp skin breaking out into goosebumps in the air of the bedroom.

Joel drags his lips between your breasts and you feel his smile.

"Christ," he says. "You comin' outta there in just a towel and you expect me to go to sleep?"

He pulls his fingers from you and frames your face with both hands to drag it down to his in a lazy, thorough kiss, like he's savoring each moment.

His tongue traces the seam of your lips and you let him in readily, arms wrapping around his shoulders as you grind down on the hardness you can feel through his pants.

"I've missed you," you say, dragging your tongue along down his jaw. His fingertips press into your bare hips hard enough to bruise, but it's a grounding touch rather than an urgent one. You want to take your time because you have missed him, and you think he feels the same way.

"Sorry, sweetheart," Joel groans, dragging your lips back to his. "It'll be worth it."

You pull back to look him in the eyes. The hazel-grey is almost totally taken over by his pupil, but his gaze softens when you cup his cheek and smile.

"I know," you say, and mean it. Naked in his lap in your bedroom, you mean it. You always mean it. You always trust him.

Joel kisses you once, twice, and you pull on his lower lip with your teeth when he pulls away. His nostrils flare and before you can tug his cock from his pants, he holds two fingers out to you.

You laugh, circling his wrist and bringing the digits past your lips. You swirl your tongue around them and really take your time with it, laving at his knuckles before releasing them with a pop.

His cock twitches beneath you and he huffs.

"You're an easy man to please, Joel Miller," you tell him, tugging down his pants and letting his shaft spring free. You stroke him root to tip and he hisses.

"Nah," he manages. "It's ‘cause it's you."

He follows his words with a circle of your clit from his spit-slick fingers.

"See?" you gasp. "Romantic."

It's a bit crowded, his hand rubbing your clit and yours slowly jerking him, but neither of you rush it. You pant together, dotting lazy kisses on any piece of bare skin you can reach. You breathe him in, the combination of sweat and gun oil and fresh detergent that's just Joel. A rush of tenderness hits you so suddenly your nose stings.

"Joel," you say, a bit ragged. "Joel, can you --"

A gentle hand on your face brings your foreheads together, his eyes on yours.

"Whatever you want," he groans. "Whatever you want, it's yours."

You can't help it -- you laugh. Brightly and happily, almost in disbelief that this man is yours. Real and solid under you right now, beside you every night. Yours to love and cherish and all the rest.

"You laughin' at me?" he grumbles, though you can tell he's fighting a smile.

"I just love you, is all," you say. You probably don't say it enough. You and Joel show each other every day, so much so that you can't imagine he doesn't know. As it is, you feel loved by him with every move he makes, every time he looks in your direction, every time he says your name.

"And I want you to fuck me," you add.

It's Joel's turn to laugh.

"Now who's the romantic one?" he says. 

You rise from his lap and settle onto your back on the other side of the bed, stretching with your hands above your head.

His eyes follow the line of your bare body, fondness and hunger recognizable in his gaze.

"Always so damn pretty," he grumbles. "Prettiest thing I've ever seen."

"Flirt," you tease.

He rises to his knees and pumps his cock a few times with his fist. You spread your legs for him, knees bent up against your chest.

He settles between your knees and you lock them around his hips. Joel honest-to-god winks at you before dragging two fingers through your folds to make sure you're slick enough.

"Ready?"

You nod. He enters you in one practiced move and you groan in unison as you adjust. It takes some shuffling but he finds a position he can hold, and you wrap your arms around his neck.

Joel fucks you slow and deep. Each drag of his cock against your walls curls your toes and drags whines from both of your throats. He keeps up his usual babel -- doin' so good, feel like a dream, so damn tight, cunt's a fuckin' miracle -- and you press your hands into his bare back like he's a life raft.

Sweat beats on your brow, your chest, everywhere, and you suck bruises into his neck as his thrusts get a little frantic. Your own orgasm sneaks up on you, the pressure building and building and building until it snaps without warning.

"Joel -- Joel, fuck, I --"

You clench around him and he chants your name, that's it, baby, come on my cock, and buries himself to the hilt to finish inside you.

He hovers above you on trembling arms long enough to press a sweet kiss to your lips before rolling off of you.

"Now I'm ready for bed," you say, panting.

You fling a hand out lazily and it lands on his chest. He intertwines your fingers and his gaze finds yours. You smile as you get your breathing under control.

Joel smooths your brow with a thumb. "Don't forget to --"

"I know, I know," you say. "C'mon, you know this isn't my first rodeo." You get up from the bed and head to the bathroom.

"You sayin' I'm a bull?" Joel calls after you.

"Save a horse, ride a cowboy!" you holler back, cleaning yourself up. "Didn't people used to say that?"

Joel doesn't answer you but you laugh at your own joke. You make your way back to the bed in old pyjamas and find him back in his sweatpants, feet flat on the floor like he's about to get up and go somewhere.

"Joel?"

He sighs, his shoulders moving up and down like he's bracing himself.

"It's done," he says. "Your surprise."

The confession stops you in your tracks.

"Oh?"

You know Joel better than mosty, but sometimes he's still a puzzle. The hesitation, the slight air of anxiety about him as he says it confuses you. Because Joel is good at taking care of people, and he has to know it -- those years he and Ellie didn't speak you know he left her things, know that he took care of her from afar as much as she would let him. It's just what he does, he uses his hands to beat and shoot and bloody – but also to carve and hold and love.

They're the same thing, really.

And he's made you something – one of countless gifts he's given you, tangible and not, throughout your relationship.

But he's nervous. As if you wouldn't love anything he made, anything he does. As if you're not gone over every part of him.

"Hm," he says. "Yeah. Let me --"

Joel gets up from the bed and pads over to the dresser to rummage around in a drawer. You meet him back on the bed and he's holding a square-ish parcel wrapped in cloth.

You gingerly take it from him.

"This is what you've been working on?" you ask softly. He nods.

You unwrap the cloth and find yourself holding leather-bound journal. The hide is smooth under your fingertips, scraped clean by hand and tanned a dark chestnut.The spine is about an inch wide, the whole thing swen together with neat stitches of what can only be catgut. A thinner strip of leather is wrapped around the cover and tucked into itself carefully. It must have taken him ages to make. 

"Joel," you gasp. "It's...god, it's beautiful."

He tells you how he found it on patrol a few weeks ago. The cover was fucked but the paper was somehow fine, so he dried out the pages and rebound it with a hide he tanned himself. You run your hands over it again almost like you can feel his fingerprints all over it, the hours he poured into the pages.

The inside cover falls open easily when you undo the tie and you see letters in the bottom left corner of it. Your eyes sting.

Joel has carefully burned your name into the leather, each letter perfectly lined up with the next. You haven't had something with your name on it in years.

He clears his throat. "Ellie said she'd give you some of her pens. Show you how to refill 'em."

You look up from your gift and find so much love on his face you can hardly stand it. He was inside you not that long ago and somehow this is more intimate. You surge forward into his space and wrap an arm around his shoulders, burying your face in his neck.

"I don't know what to say," you confess. "Just -- thank you."

He runs his hand along your spine.

"S'nothin'," he says. "Just saw it and thought of you, is all."

You release him and shake your head in disbelief. This man.

"What should I write in it?"

Joel's cheeks darken a little. Of course he's thought of everything.

"Figured you could write about...all this." He waves a hand in the air like that explains anything.

"All what?"

He shrugs one bare shoulder.

"Life," he says. "Jackson. Folks here. Might be nice, havin' the memories."

You scoot closer to him so you're almost in his lap again.

"You want me to write down the gossip?" You mean it as a joke but Joel nods.

"You pay attention," he explains. "Someone's gotta."

You're not much of a writer anymore, haven't had cause to be in twenty years. But you do like to tell stories. You both do. 

The pages are soft under your fingertips as you flip through them again. You're going to fill them with stories -- about this town, about Joel and Ellie and Tommy and the people you love. The people you've lost, too. The memories that hurt like bruises, like fresh wounds. But the good stuff, too. The gossip, the love stories, the plants in the yard and the flowers on the trails.

Joel has given you the ability to record your lives.

You reach over him to set the journal on the nightstand before you frame his face with both of your hands.

"I'm going to write pages and pages about you, Joel Miller," you whisper.

He huffs, cheeks warm under your palms. "That's borin'."

You shake your head and lean in until your lips brush and your eyes flutter shut.

"That's the story," you say. "That's my life. This is my life. You are."

“I love you,” he breathes. “So damn much. Y’know that?”

How could you not? You say so and kiss him firmly but without hurry. You’ve got lots of time. You’ve got forever.

[writersmess]

DEATH WISH LOVE | EVAN BUCKLEY

gif credit

Pairing: Evan Buckley x fem!reader

Summary: Buck never thought he could love someone like that. Especially not someone with the same death wish love as him.

Warning: Anxiety crisis, near-death experience, hospital, crying, ansgt.

Word count: 2.5K

a/n: My God, I can't believe it's taken me over a year to get back. I missed this place so much. It's been an intense, crazy year. I finally got my dream job at the best hospital in Latin America. I'm so happy, but at the same time it's demanded everything of me, working long shifts almost every day, but its the price I have to pay. I hope you like this one, it was based on the song Death Wish Love by Benson Boone, which as soon as I heard it I immediately imagined something with our dear Buck. I confess I thought I'd do something angsty, but I don't think I have that capacity, he already suffers so much that I just wanted him to have a happy ending this time.

Masterlist

................................

You were the new firefighter in 118, and also new to the city. In order to follow your dreams, you left your hometown with everyone and everything you knew. You craved for bigger things, you wanted the big city, you wanted Los Angeles.

The team welcomed you with open arms, which was unusual to you. You weren’t used to this or neither known by your affectionate gestures, but apparently everything was an excuse for a hug at the station. It was a bit hard to get used to all this affection, especially when you came from a place where you were always by yourself.

That was one of the main reasons you became a firefighter, you have walked through fire every single day of your life, why not make it your profession?

You were a source of curiosity between the team, always so quiet and so resistant to everyone's affection. It was hard to win you over. Especially because you had a rather difficult personality, you were fearless at work, you weren't afraid to go into the fire to save lives, you did it without thinking twice.

To Bobby you were a cause for concern, and sometimes the reason why he was having trouble sleeping. He knew this personality very well. It was the same one he had struggled for years to learn to deal with, the one he had to fight with so many times, he was very familiar with this death wish love, it was the same as Buck’s.

The blue-eyed man on the other side, couldn't understand why he couldn't take his eyes off you. Ever since you arrived a few months ago, your image has been running through Buck’s mind. You've become a challenge for him. But not in a bad way, he wanted to get to know you, he wanted to understand you. But you didn't make things any easier for him, especially when today was the first time he'd seen you laugh.

"You're drooling" he snapped back to reality when he heard Eddie mocking next to him.

"Shut up" Buck said, turning his gaze back to you playing with his niece.

You had a beauty he couldn't explain, an angelic one. You had this steely gaze and looking at you felt like suicide. He would fall to his knees if you asked him to. How could someone so delicate also be so dangerous?

The way you were reluctant to follow Bobby's orders, you'd walk into the fire without a second thought. You would take risks without thinking about your own safety, just thinking about everyone else. He saw how hard you worked, he saw how mad Bobby got when he ordered the building to be evacuated and you were always the last one to leave. You were intriguing and he was fascinated.

It was so strange for you. Being in Maddie's living room, with everyone gathered together like a big family, laughing and telling funny stories. The team met once a week, with all the families together, the children running around the living room, the smell of food in the air, the voices, the laughter.

You accepted the invitation after a few months of refusing, and now you spent the week looking forward to the moment when you would be together again.

Sometimes when you got home from a meeting, you cried. You cried because you never had that, you never had anyone who cared about you. You were an unexpected pregnancy, your parents didn't planned you, they didn't want you and that was never a secret to anyone.

And that's why you were surprised when one day you arrived early at the station and Hen had a cake for you that you had once said reminded of what your grandmother used to bake.

Or when another one Eddie handed you a drawing that Chris made specifically for you. Of the two of you playing together.

Or when Maddie sent you, through Chim, the cookies you said you loved one day while you were having coffee together.

Or when Bobby invited you to have lunch with him and Athena on a Sunday ‘cause he knew you were going to do it alone.

Or when Buck gave you a book he'd heard you say was your favorite during a conversation.

*

It was mid-afternoon on a Sunday. Your hands were shaking, your heart pounding. The words your father had once spoken echoed in your mind. "You will never be loved". But you were at a table with 118's entire family, and you felt loved. Maddie told you about the gossip from her work. Karen hugged you from the side every time you passed by her. Hen included you in every conversation. Athena calmly answered all the questions you were curious about her work. So why did you feel like an imposter? Why was your father's voice echoing inside your head? Why were you on the verge of an anxiety attack?

"I'll be right back" you muttered to the girls, but you realized how shaky your voice sounded. You were pathetic.

You barely made it to the bathroom, your legs buckled and you sat down in the corner of the room. You could hardly breathe, it was hard to pull in the air. Tears streamed down your face. Your heart was racing. Your hands were shaking.

You heard your voice being called from outside. Damn. You couldn't calm down, your hand was on your chest as if it could make the pain go away.

"Hey, hey. I'm here. Calm down, I’ve got you" it was Buck.

His voice was just a whisper in your ear. You let a sob escape your lips. Pathetic. You felt his arms around you, until you were all wrapped up in his arms. Why was he doing that? Why did he care?

He stayed there until you stopped crying. You were still in his arms, and it was so warm, so safe. Sighs came from your lips, and you couldn't imagine what a mess Buck's head and heart were in. He wanted you in his arms, not just now.

"I'm sorry," you whispered and tried to pull away, but he wouldn't let you, so you stayed.

"You don't have to talk about what's going on in there, but the day you feel like you need a hug to cry into, you've got mine" your eyes filled with tears again. "And don't ever apologize for it"

*

The smiles on your lips were becoming constant. And it was Buck's favorite image. You were letting people through your armor, you were letting your guard down, and it felt good. You now baked pies and cakes for the station on your days off, recipes learned from the girls after a few long afternoons of chatting and coffee.

Your laughter was contagious, and the boys would always crack little jokes to get them out of you.

Your eyes were now looking out for a pair of blue ones, all the time, everywhere. Eyes that were always looking back at you. Your hands were always looking for an excuse to bump into Buck's, just to feel that shiver run down your spine every time. And he would find any reason to text you, until the excuses became routine. You woke up every day with a good morning message and went to bed with a good night one. The little touches now became big gestures, Buck loved to brush your hair out of your face and tuck them behind your ear. And you loved to run your hand over the birthmark above his eye. You loved when his warm lips traveled up your neck to your lips. You loved when his hands ran over your body always so slowly and so gently, bringing goosebumps wherever they went. You loved making love with him. How he worshiped your body, how much he worshiped you. The way he made you feel loved.

You had a hold on Buck, and you didn't even know it. He had become attached to you, attached to the idea of having you by his side. The nights with you were the ones he could truly rest in, the mornings where he woke up to your soft kisses on his face, were the ones he would keep forever in his mind.

But he could feel that you were still resisting his feelings, and he was terrified of losing you. Buck was in love with you. It took months for him to realize that, but he did it. He loved you.

But one thing has never changed. And as Buck followed the loud murmurs coming from Bobby’s office, where he knew you were at, he kept in mind the danger you were in at every call. He couldn't lose you.

"Hey, what happe-" he couldn't finish the sentence when he saw you walking out the door, since you brushed past him, bumping into his shoulder, without even looking him in the face.

Buck made his way to the room, where he saw his captain wiping his hands across his face, letting out an exhausted sigh.

"She'll end up dead if she keep acting like this, Buck"

"I know"

"After the last call, if she doesn't change her behavior, I'll be forced to suspend her."

"I know."

Buck couldn't lose you.

You couldn't talk to Buck yet, you were so nervous after your conversation with Bobby. You were trying your best, how could he tell you that you had a death wish love? You were saving lives, and it didn't matter if it cost you your own. You didn't care.

A new call ecoed through the station. It was something big. A fire in a shed. People were working at the time, so there were many likely victims. You were anxious, just as you were before any call, but you were ready for it. You were born ready.

"Be careful," Buck told you before you got off the truck and you nodded. You were always careful "I love you"

You turned surprised to Buck, you'd never said that to each other before. It disconcerted you.

"Buck, I-"

Before you could say anything, you heard Bobby calling you to give instructions and you had to run.

I love you.

The words echoed in your head as you entered the burning building. No one had ever said that to you. You didn't even know the weight those words carried.

"Sir, follow this path and the fireman will take you to the exit."

It was so hot. You'd already lost count of how many people you'd pulled out of the line of fire. Your head was heavy. It was getting hard to breathe.

"Evacuate the building now," you could hear Cap saying over the radio. Everyone agreed and gave their location. You were about to respond when you heard something.

It was a call for help.

You could have sworn it was a call for help.

"Captain, I'm in the east side, I hear someone screaming for help. I'm close, I can get them out"

"Negative, the building will collapse at any moment. Get out immediately"

Your vision was blurred.

I love you.

You couldn't go out and leave those people to die, so you went ahead. The way to the door was difficult, there was a lot of rubble, and when you opened it, you froze in place.

It was empty. The fire danced in front of you, mocking you. But the cries for help... you've never been so wrong before.

I love you.

“It’s empty” you murmured at the radio.

Bobby was shouting your name from the other end of the radio. You turned around, but it was so hard to breathe. You tried to find your way back, but everything was spinning. Buck was now calling your name.

I love you.

His words were running through your head. Your steps were now slow. The way out, you couldn't find the way out. You could hear the fire laughing at you. Stupid. Pathetic. You heard an explosion behind you, and it threw you off balance, bringing you to the ground. You'd been walking through fire all your life, and now it would finally take its place back. Your siren buzzed in your ears. That would be the end of you.

I love you too, Buck.

The moment Buck came out of the building and didn't see you outside, he tried to go back. But hands held him in place.

This couldn't be happening. No, no.

Bobby called your name on the radio and you didn't answer. It's empty. That was the last answer they got. You weren't answering. An explosion. On the east side, where you were.

Buck's knees gave way, and he went down. All eyes were on the exit of the building waiting for you, waiting for a miracle. But it never came.

Buck screamed, and he would scream until his lungs gave up.

Time seemed to stop. Buck's screams were the only noise to be heard. And another explosion. Tears rolled down trough some faces. No one could believe it. This couldn't be happening.

Buck couldn't lose you like this.

"We found her" some voice echoed over the radio.

Buck's heart could stop any second now.

But the building was collapsing.

He broke free from his friends and ran into the building, dodging all the fallen and burnt obstacles, and he saw you. You were in the arms of a fireman. He ran up to you and carried you out of the building. As soon as you stepped onto the sidewalk, the building collapsed. Buck held you in his arms with all his strength and ran, feeling the debris fly past you.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry" was the first thing that came out of your lips when he put you on the stretcher and he shut you up, pressing his lips to yours.

Buck analyzed each of your wounds alongside Hen and Chim and you could see the tears streaming down Buck's face, the ones that were also streaming down your own.

You were still struggling to breathe, every inch of your body ached, and you felt on the verge of losing consciousness. Until you succumbed to the darkness that was calling your name.

*

You woke up a few hours later in hospital. Your hands were being squeezed and you could feel something wet running down over them. Tears.

Buck had his face in your hands, he had never felt so afraid before. And when he heard your voice calling him, it was as if he could finally breathe.

"I'm sorry, Buck, I-I don't know what happened-"

"I almost lost you today"

Your heart broke into a million pieces. You did this to him, your recklessness, your impulsive behavior. It was your fault.

"I'm sorry"

Tears were now streaming down your face and he moved closer, running his hands gently down your cheeks.

"I was terrified of losing you. I'd die if I do."

"I would never leave you"

"Promise?"

"I love you, Buck. And I'll love you to death"

"Please don't let it be soon"

You smiled. No one had ever loved you like that.

"It won't."

[forever-rogue]

Hi! so i've kinda had the worst past couple of days in a long time and I have a joel request of him just trying to cheer you up in his own grumpy old man way where its not really working but he's trying his best + maybe some Ellie enjoying how shit he is at it. Thank you :)

AN | Joel being soft for reader and only reader 🥰 

Pairing | Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Warnings | Language, Mention of Injury (mild, nondescript but mentions blood)

Word Count | 2.2k

Masterlist | Joel, Main

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Joel Miller was a hard man. The years and circumstances had done that to him. Every year, with every little thing that had happened he'd retreated further into himself and became a shadow of himself. 

But then had slowly he'd come more out of his shell, more alive again. He'd never again be the same man from before the Outbreak, but he could be happy again. It was something he'd thought was impossible but he was gradually beginning to believe was obtainable. It had all started with Ellie; he might have been her savior but he was every bit her savior as well. 

And there was you. You had caused him to feel a hundred thousand emotions he thought he'd long buried and forgotten. He just wasn't quite sure how to approach that just yet. But he did what he could and tried to show his affection in his very own Joel way.

Ellie might have teased him about it, but he did his best. Even if you didn't notice, that was okay. He just wanted to make sure you were happy and to put a smile on your face.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

But right now there was no smile on your face. You'd gotten to the cafeteria and were on the hunt for some cookies. You were definitely in the midst of some pms and the cravings had hit. All you wanted now was something sweet. Your tummy had decided that it was chocolate chip cookies you were after. 

Unfortunately, there weren't any to be found. You had been positive that Vickie had baked some but they were either nonexistent or already all gone. You snooped around the counter and eventually found an empty tray that had suspiciously cookie-like crumbs on it.

"Animals," you sighed softly. People always descended on sweets first. You should have gone in the morning rather than waiting for the afternoon, "not a single cookie left."

You felt prickling at the back of your eyes, which you knew, realistically, was a dramatic reaction. But hey - hormones were weird and cravings happened.

Joel happened to walk in and noticed you staring dismally at the empty counter. A deep frown was tugging on your features, setting your mouth in a pretty little pout. He loathed seeing you upset. He was at your side in an instant.

"Everything alright?"

"No - yes," you shrugged as you turned to look at him. He still managed to make you weak in the knees despite how often you'd seen him. He was handsome in a roguish way and he'd always been kind to you, "its nothing."

"Don't look like nothin'," of course he wasn't going to let it go. You knew him better than that by now, "you look upset."

"It's noth - it's silly and you're going to laugh at me," your face burned under his intense gaze; you felt so vulnerable.

"Never," and that was a promise.

"I just really wanted some chocolate chip cookies," you confessed, so quietly that he almost wasn't sure he'd heard you. Then you noticed the way the corner of his mouth twitched into a small smile, "I know it's stupid! It's just that I've got pms and it's making me want something sweet. I was looking forward to some cookies."

"Oh," you didn't have your cookies and were upset. By proxy, Joel was now upset. His brows furrowed as a heavy sigh escaped your lips, "I'm sorry they didn't have your cookies. And that you're dealing with your…monthly stuff."

"Yeah," you sighed softly, "me too. But I'll just find something else. Thanks for listening to me complain."

"It ain't complaining," he hesitantly reached over and gave your shoulder a gentle squeeze. You tried - unsuccessfully - to ignore the tingles that surged through your veins, "I'm sure you'll find something sweet."

"Thanks Joel," you offered him a small smile, "you're very kind."

You brushed past him, giving a last little parting wave as you headed outside. Joel watched you go, a plan already forming in his mind. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It was evening before you returned home, deciding that it was time for a hot shower and then into bed with a book. You were starting to feel crummy and hoped this would help. 

But when you got home, you were greeted by a delicious smell that made you stop in your tracks. You hadn't cooked or baked anything…you'd guard went up as you walked into the kitchen.

On the table there was a huge, fresh plate of cookies. You couldn't hold back your squeal of delight as you padded over to them and eagerly grabbed one and stuffed it into your mouth. The idea that it could have been a trap hadn't even crossed your kind. 

There was no note or anything, but you knew exactly who these were from. 

Joel Miller. 

Your heart felt it could burst from sheer happiness. You were going to find later and thank him; this was one of the nicest things anyone had done for you in a long time.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It had been a few weeks since Joel had made you cookies. You still hadn't managed to properly thank him; every time you saw him he appeared to be busy or disappeared within the blink of an eye.

One day you'd do something special for him. 

That day just wasn't going to be today. You were leaving the sheepish enclosure after feeding the small herd, as it was your designated day to do so. You'd been so preoccupied with playing with them that you weren't paying much attention to the closing of the gate. 

Not until you have a piece of rogue wire scrape down your arm. A sound of surprise escaped your lips as you looked at your arm to find it bleeding.

"Oh," you stared at it until you heard a pair of hasty footsteps stop in front of you.

"What happened?" you looked up to find Joel watching you with concern etched all over his face. He reached for your wrist, hesitantly at first but when you didn't flinch away, he wrapped his fingers around your wrist and gently pulled your arm towards him, "you're bleeding."

"I scratched my arm," you looked towards the fence, as though realization suddenly dawned on you. You swore that your arm started to hurt even more, "it hurts."

"I know baby, I know," he didn't seem to have a clue as to what he had said but it was definitely not lost on you. You watched him intently, unable to contain the wild thumping of your heart as he looked you over, "let's go and this cleaned up, okay?"

"Okay," you agreed softly, trying to hold back your sniffles, "okay."

He reached for your hand on the opposite arm and tenderly took it in his hand, leading you over to his place. You'd been to his house before on several occasions but something about this felt so different.

Joel was quiet as he took you upstairs to the bathroom, motioning for you to sit on the side of the tub. He made quick work of getting all his supplies together and then patching up your wound. Not that it was much, it probably looked worse than it really was, but you appreciated him nonetheless.

"It might sting a little, okay?" He grabbed the alcohol and started to clean the scratch and you tried not to hiss at the pain but you knew it was written all over your face, "almost done. It'll feel better soon."

You nodded in understanding as he dabbed some ointment onto your arm before wrapping the wound up so it would stay clean. It was over before you knew it and you were almost sad that it was done. That meant his hands weren't going to be on yours anymore. 

He patted your knee when he was done and stood back up. You looked at him with such wide, soft eyes that Joel had struggled to hold back from kissing you. Damn.

"Thank you," your voice was soft and all he could manage in response was a nod of his head. It was then that you had remembered you still had something else to thank him for, "oh! Before I forget - thank you for the cookies. They were delicious."

"H-how did you know it was me?" his cheeks flushed pink as you beamed at him.

"It wasn't hard to put two and two together," you insisted, "I complained about not having cookies and suddenly there's a plate waiting at home? Come on, Joel. You made that almost too easy! But they were also delicious."

"I'm glad you liked them," he whispered softly, "and I'm glad your arm is okay."

"Me too," you smiled up at him, "all thanks to you, Joel Miller."

He couldn't find it within himself to muster up even a single word, too afraid he might spill his innermost secrets. Instead he brushed his knuckles along your cheek ever so gently.

He didn't have to say anything, not really. Everything between the two of you was loud and clear. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You hadn't been sick in a long time and realized it wasn't something you missed. When it came around, you were really down and out. 

Like right now. You caught something but from who or what you had no clue. 

You did know however that you felt and looked like absolute garbage and had no energy either. So you did all that you could - stay in bed and rest.

But you were hungry and thirsty but didn't have it within yourself to actually get up to take care of yourself.

When you heard someone knocking at the door all you managed to do was shout in response, "its open!"

A moment passed before the door was actually opened and you heard a pair of tentative footsteps. You listened to their path until they stopped in front of your bedroom.

You rolled onto your back and looked up, finding Joel standing there and holding several bags of supplies. He hated seeing you like this; you hated him seeing you like this too. 

"What're you doing here?" you asked softly as he cleared his throat nervously, "Joel?"

"Maria told me you weren't feeling well," he said gruffly, "I came to take care of you."

"'m sick," you coughed lightly as he grimaced, "don't want you to get sick too."

"I don't care," he insisted in a tone that suggested it was pointless to argue, "I'm here to take care of you. You realize I'm not just leaving, right?"

"Of course I do," you sat up as he hesitantly came over and sat at the edge of your bed, "you're a stubborn man, Joel Miller."

"I've heard that a time or two," he snorted in amusement, "and much, much worse."

"Hmm," you laughed lightly as you leaned against your pillows, "what if you get sick?"

"I won't."

"If you did," you pressed further, "would you let me take care of you?"

He paused for a moment before nodding. He knew that you were just as stubborn as him, "I would."

"Good," you paused for a moment before a serious look crossed your features, "can I ask you something, Joel?"

"Anything," he insisted softly, his voice dropping to a tone that seemed to be reserved just for you.

"You’re always so nice to me,” you tried to ignore the fact that warmth was rising in your face, enough that you were sure you could fry an egg on it, “but…”

“But…” he echoed, reaching over and brushing your hair out of your face before feeling your forehead, “but what?” 

“It’s me,” you waved your hand around, “you’re always like this with me. But not anyone else. I don’t think so anyway.”

“You’re right,” he confirmed, his simple and sure answer coughing your brain to scramble, “the kid keeps saying I’m sweet on you. She’s not wrong.”

“Oh,” you hadn’t quite processed the weight of his words…not until, “oh.”

“Mhmm,” Joel didn’t necessarily have a way with words, but he didn’t need to when his actions spoke so loudly. You smiled at him and he felt like he was the one that was going to melt into a puddle, “have you eaten?”

“No,” you admitted sheepishly, “too tired.”

“Well then,” he stood up, hands on his hips, “I’ll go and make some soup. Okay?”

“Okay,” yeah. You could definitely get used to this. He grabbed the bags with groceries and supplies before turning to head to the kitchen. But you could let him go just yet, “Joel?”

He turned around and raised an eyebrow, “yes?”

“Me too,” you was the only thing you could get out. Judging from the way his face lit up, you knew he knew what you were trying to say. 

“I’ll be back,” he promised, “get some rest in the meantime.”

“Okay.”

[silksongeveryday]

Drawing Hornet everyday until Silksong comes out - Day 200!!!

(huge thanks to this person for the art suggestion!! <3)

I genuinely can’t believe that I’ve made it to 200 days, it’s truly been wild how time flies by like that and the amount of doodles I’ve made during that time. Over 200 doodles (217 to be exact if we’re counting double pictures/extra doodles) have been made over the past 200 days. :0

And thank you all so much for the love and support! Not only have we reached 200 days but also 1400+ followers about a week ago! <3

But, having said that I’d like to make a few announcements—some good, some not so great—about a few things regarding the blog, myself, and other stuff.

Putting it all under the cut so the post isn’t long if you’d like to know more

______________________________

Announcements!

My pfp!

1.) I’ll be changing my pfp again!! I’ve officially decided that after every 100 days or so I’ll change up the pfp so it’s up to date with my doodle style (assuming it changed at all lol), but generally it’ll look relatively the same as the last!

Possibly more admins?

2.) As of right now I’m looking into the idea/possibility of having a second (maybe third?) person help me with daily doodles! As much as I’d like to keep doodling everyday there are some days that it can be tough or some situation might be happening. (i.e. recently got injured)

See, the problem is I don’t exactly have a proper way of trying this out??? My idea was to maybe do this through dms or more preferably Google Forms. I also don’t really know what form of communication afterward would be best either, suggestions to help me work this out would be great! (as you can tell I’m not very good at this stuff lol)

Commissions!

3.) After much consideration and a lot of thought, I’ve decided that in the near future, I’ll be opening commissions again for the first time in years. I don’t have everything set up quite yet, but expect more info in the near future!

About requests:

4.) You may have noticed recently that I haven’t been doing as many doodle requests recently. Sure, there’s usually quite a few in a row at once but you may have noticed I’ve also been doing “non-requested” doodles aka ones that I just do on my own.

Expect this to become a very normal thing going forward. I probably won’t be doing as many requests as before because frankly with the amount of requests I get daily when it’s open is a lot to handle sometimes. Does this mean requests will be stopped entirely? No, I’ll still do some occasionally, but not as much as I have in the past.

Also I’ll likely be doing strictly anonymous requests.

About Burnout:

5.) Alright let’s address the elephant in the room.

There have been quite a few instances where people have wondered if I would ever have burnout and have occasionally joked about “dying” from said burnout because “Silksong will never release, you’ll be doing this forever” etc etc.

In the past I’ve been fine, motivation has been great, but recently I’ve noticed it a little bit.

Unfortunately life has its own plans so it can be a little hard for me to make a doodle that day, expecially recently since I’ve been experiencing personal/medical issues. It’s part of the reason I’m hoping to get a second (maybe third) person to help me do daily doodles so I can take a little bit of the load off my shoulders.

So what does this mean for this blog?

Not much right now. But in the future, there may be some changes. My current plan is to keep going on daily doodles/posts for the length of a standard year, so roughly 365 days. After that, if things in personal life keep up the way they have, I may have to stop daily doodles and instead will post only if I have time. That likely means doodles every other day or every three days or something. At the very least I’ll still post a doodle once a week.

Not to worry though! I’ll still try my best even after I reach day 365 :)

I’ll discuss how things work a little more on my main @miizori later, but that’s as much as I can think to explain rn.

———————————————

Just a few more things I wanted to say!

This community has been so cool to interact with, so much tamer than some others I’ve been apart of in the past. I’m genuinely thankful for how much support and how nice everyone has been. I truly didn’t expect to get this far, I was fully expecting to have stopped like 10 doodles in lol. I especially love to see all your comments in the tags and people sharing their art. You’re all so cool :)))

I have a dtiys from back when I reached 300 followers that’s still available if you’re feeling up to it!

Also my main (again, @miizori) is where I make updates on doodle stuff, regular art stuff and so on if you’re interested at all in that lol

I think that’s all that I can remember wanting to say, so thanks!! I look forward to more doodles for you all :)

[deliciousangelfestival]

The Lady - 7

Character: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader, Eddie Horniman x Female Reader

Summary: After fifteen years away, a step-daughter returns for her Duke step-father's funeral, only to inherit a staggering 8 million pound debt and strike a risky deal with a criminal underworld figure.

Main Masterlist || support: Ko-fi

Chap 1, Chap 2, Chap 3 , Chap 4 , Chap 5 , Chap 6 , Chap 7.

Your ongoing support means the world to me! Reblogs are a fantastic way to help spread the word about my work.

Eddie's classic car roared up the gravel driveway, the engine's purr echoing through the quiet morning air. The sleek, polished body of the car gleamed under the sunlight, its timeless elegance a stark contrast to the tension that gripped the house.

Bucky clicked his tongue, his eyes narrowing in disdain. "Tsk, show off," he muttered. You shot him a sidelong glance, annoyed that he was still hanging around despite your earlier insistence that he leave.

"Don't kick me out. I want to see where this is going," Bucky said, leaning back casually as if he had all the time in the world.

Eddie moved swiftly, opening the back door of his car and helping Charles out. Charles looked like he'd been through hell. His face was swollen and bruised, one eye nearly shut from the swelling, and dried blood crusted at the corner of his mouth. He winced with every step, leaning heavily on Eddie for support.

Before you could fully process the sight, a hysterical scream pierced the air. "Kyaa!!! Charles, who did this to you?" Susan, your mother, ran out of the house, her face pale with panic.

She reached Charles and frantically checked his face, her hands trembling. Without a second thought, she helped Charles into the mansion, her expression a mix of fear and anguish.

Bucky watched the commotion with a detached interest, his eyes flicking between you and the unfolding drama. "Well," he said, his voice breaking through your daze, "looks like things just got a lot more interesting."

Leaving the three of you dumbfounded by your dramatic mother, you sighed and looked at the boys. "It’s already come to this. Let’s talk with cigars and whiskey."

“Yes. Let’s go!” Bucky walked inside, his steps light and eager. You and Eddie lingered behind.

You couldn't share Bucky's enthusiasm. Instead, you grumbled, feeling the weight of yet another problem. One issue had just been resolved, and now a new one had emerged. Eddie gave you a sympathetic smile, his eyes filled with understanding.

You sighed deeply. "The next time we meet, I hope it’s not about drugs and debt."

Eddie nodded, his expression somber. “I’ll drink to that.”

🤍🤍🤍🤍

You, Bucky, and Eddie are drinking whiskey in your study while your mother tends to Charles's wounds.

“What did a priest do to get beaten up like that?” you ask, leaning back in your chair.

“He got into trouble with ‘The Gospel,’” Eddie replies.

You raise your eyebrows. “Who?”

“John Dixon, aka ‘The Gospel.’ He’s an evangelical nutjob who also runs a cocaine syndicate,” Eddie explains.

You’re taken aback, hardly able to believe what you just heard. Charles, sitting nearby with a bandage on his forehead, interjects.

“He’s not evangelical. That man is a liar. His people sell that devil powder at schools,” Charles says with conviction.

You cross your arms, incredulous. “So you confronted them? All by yourself?”

Charles looks at you, pain and determination in his eyes. “I know what those drugs can do. It ruined my life. I don’t want others to go through the same hell I did.”

He leans forward, his expression earnest. “You have to stop him.”

“Me?” you respond, surprised.

“Yes, because you can. You have to save people from a man like ‘The Gospel,’” Charles insists. "If this were medieval times, he’d be the corrupt pope, and you’d be the martyr trying to bring him down."

Bucky, always eager for excitement, chimes in. “This is getting more exciting. Can I join?”

“No!” you and Eddie answer simultaneously.

“I’ll provide you with the guns,” Bucky offers, unfazed.

You consider his proposal for a moment. “Fine,” you agree, knowing you’ll need all the help you can get.

Before you go to meet the fake evangelical, your mother chases after you. She grabs your arm and says, “You have to avenge your brother.”

She's so determined to get her stepson some justice. You sigh inwardly; since you've come back, she hasn't shown this kind of worry for you, only for Charles and Charlotte.

After she leaves, you notice Bucky and Eddie looking at you. Bucky says, “It’s just me and my dad. And I’m sure he’d like you.”

“Huh?” you reply, confused.

Eddie chimes in, not wanting to be outdone, “All my family likes you.”

You chuckle, “Let’s go.”

🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍

You arrive at the chapel where ‘The Gospel’ has his hideout. It’s a dilapidated old building, its stained glass windows cracked and dirty. The air is thick with the scent of incense, masking the more sinister activities taking place within.

Eddie leans in and whispers, “Be careful with him.”

“I know,” you respond, steeling yourself for what’s to come.

As you approach the entrance, Bucky nudges you and hands you a small revolver. “Just in case things get messy.”

You nod, tucking the weapon into your coat. The three of you push open the heavy wooden doors and step inside. The interior of the chapel is dimly lit, casting long shadows across the pews.

At the front, a figure stands at the altar, preaching to a small group of followers. His voice is smooth, charismatic—a stark contrast to the malevolence you know he harbors.

At the front, ‘The Gospel’—John Dixon—stands, his face a mask of calm malevolence. He looks up as you approach, a twisted smile playing on his lips.

John’s eyes flick to Eddie first. “We meet again,” he says, his voice dripping with false piety.

Then his gaze shifts to you. “So you’re the priest’s older sister,” he says, sizing you up.

"You hurt my family," you say, your voice low and filled with barely-contained fury.

John’s tone turns accusatory. “He stopped God’s plan that I received. That’s why we gave him a warning.”

Listening to this madman talk, you realize he belongs in an asylum, not leading a drug syndicate.

John’s expression softens into a mockery of benevolence. “I will forgive and forget if he apologizes to me,” he declares.

You raise your eyebrows, incredulous. Then you cross your arms defiantly. “Fuck no.”

The room falls silent, everyone taken aback by your boldness. Bucky immediately grins, thoroughly enjoying the confrontation. “Go on,” he whispers, urging you on.

You step forward, your voice steady and resolute. “Charles was too soft on you. Not me. I’ll wipe out people like you from this earth.”

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[momolady]

Somerbron Lake: A Romance (Part Three)

Female Main Character x Male Monster Dark Romance - Sense of dread - Creepy Neighbors - Sick husband

It had been so long since James and I had been able to perform the duties a man and wife are thought to do. He’s been so weak, and his doctors had advised against it, especially while he was in the hospital. I missed his touch, I missed him pressed against me. I liked how his hairy chest felt against my breasts. I liked fucking James, he was quite good at it.

We’d been nervous to go about it, but once we started it was hard to stop. Lots of pent up desires came rushing forward and toppled us like a waterfall. Beat under the torrential waves, we gave in, using our marital bed to its fullest for the first time in over a year.

We laid upon the bed, all the blankets had been tossed off and laid on the floor. Both of us were winded, out of practice and out of shape as we were. James let out a laugh, and I had to join in with a giggle. We smiled at one another, cuddling close again, wanting to be within reach once those desires built up again.

“That was amazing,” James sighed.

I ran my hands up and down his back. “It was.” I lifted my head, beaming so bright it could light up the whole time. He kissed me, sighing in relief.

“There you are,” he murmured as he stroked my hair from my sweaty brow. “This is the first time I’ve felt at home here.” He kissed the top of my head and squeezed his hand around my hip.

I furrowed my brow. “First time? I thought you liked it here.”

He was quiet, considering what he could say next. “Well, yeah, Somerbron is a nice place and all, but-” He hissed, sucking hair through his teeth. “I don’t know how to explain it, Lori. It’s like staying in a hotel. It’s nice here, it's fun to visit, but I don’t feel welcomed.”

Pulling away from him, I sat up upon my elbow so we could have this conversation eye to eye. “Everyone has been so nice.”

“Yeah well,” he propped up at well, staring straight ahead to the foot of the bed. “I just feel like everyone is…watching us.”

“I don’t understand,” I murmured.

“Anytime I go into town on my own, it’s like all the women are staring at me,” he said. “They watch me, take in my every move, like I’m going to do something. Something bad. And I feel guilty! But I’m not planning on doing anything. I’m just…I feel as if I’m being invasive.”

“But anytime I’m out they always ask about you,” I try to argue. “Maybe they’re keeping an eye on you because they know you’ve been ill.”

“I don’t want that either.” James shook his head then put his palm against his forehead. “If I could stay out by the lake all day, that would be great, I would be happy. But I can’t keep shaking this feeling that I’m being watched all the time.”

I put my hand over his. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

James exhaled with some force. “The past few years all you’ve done is worry about me. I didn’t want to add to that. You seem happy here, you’ve made friends. I’ve already taken a lot from you, I didn’t want to take this away too.” He looked me in the eye, taking my hand and holding it tight.

It was a hard sentence to hear. I hadn’t thought of it that way at all. But I did feel like being in Somerbron was something for me. I held that back out of guilt. “I don’t want you to feel that way, James. We both deserve to be happy.”

“Maybe so, but I’ve been taken care of for a long time.” He sighed heavily. “It’s your turn to have that comfort. I can get over this, I’m sure. We lived in our last place so long. And I got used to being in the hospital. Being in a whole house to ourselves, a small town, it’s new for now.”

“But you have to tell me things that bother you. Alright?”

James smiled and put his arms back around me. “Okay. I will.” He held me for a long time, both of us quiet.

“Lachlan creeps me out,” he finally muttered.

I laughed, giving him a slight push. “I thought you two were getting along!”

“I guess?” James scoffed. “But it seems like all he cares about is you. It sets off alarms for me.”

“Don’t be jealous,” I laughed.

“I’m not.” James’ voice took a serious turn. “And excuse me if this makes me sound territorial, but I don’t like him being around you. When you both were working upstairs when I had to rest, I don’t know, it made me feel weird.”

“He’s a sweet guy,” I tried to assure him.

James frowned, pursing his lips together. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s just me. Maybe it’s just I’ve grown to mistrust men because of all the doctors.” He shook his head again. “I didn’t mean for us to have a conversation like this.”

We had been having so much fun. The sex was good, a little sloppy, but good. And I had an orgasm for the first time in ages. I didn’t want it to turn sour. I had been hoping to go again. Now it didn’t seem like this was going to shift tones again. “It’s okay. I’m glad you brought it up. I know now.”

James reached off the side of the bed and grabbed up the blanket. He laid flat upon his back and looked up at the ceiling. “Remember in college and I would sneak into your dorm? You had that black light and all those weird posters.”

I crawled under the blankets and curled up beside him. “I remember.”

“That was the first time I felt at peace with myself. I was always so restless as a kid. Being in that dorm room with you was peace on earth.”

I smiled and kissed his chest. “It was.”

“Maybe we should get a black light,” he teased.

I giggled and pressed up against him, hoping to get him aroused again. “I’m sure we could find one. Maybe my mom has my old one packed away somewhere.”

James rolled onto his side to face me. “Maybe we can move into the actual master bedroom at some point.”

“Would that help you feel better?” I asked.

He nodded. “I think I can manage the stairs. One at a time.”

I kissed him, rolling him back onto his back so I was straddling him. He reached up, taking hold of my hair and wrapping it around his fingers.

“I might be getting that all chopped off tomorrow,” I teased. “Enjoy it while you can.”

James chuckled, pulling it so I leaned down to kiss him again.

In the morning, James’ mom came to pick him up for his doctor’s appointment. They’d be out most of the day, as she also wanted to give him some things from his grandmother’s house they were cleaning out. Jane came over not long after to take me into town for my hair appointment. I had set it a couple of weeks ago, back when I still thought I had so much to do moving. But then Lachlan came and helped me with it. I was done so quickly, I was just sitting at home twiddling my thumbs most days.

I was sitting in the salon with Jane looking over catalogs. I still had no idea what I wanted for my hair.  My mind wandered between that and what James had told me the night before. I looked around at the few other women in the room. No one was paying any attention to me. Maybe James was just mistaken. After being in the hospital so long, maybe he thought all eyes were on him.

Jane huffed and set her magazine aside.“Most of these styles I just don’t get. Young women these days are so brave.”

“It’s just a haircut, it all grows back. Nothing is forever,” I murmured, eyes fixated on the glossy pages. The magazine was old and some of the styles were outdated, but I still kept looking.

“How's that husband of yours doing?” Jane asked.

“He’s doing quite well actually.” I set the magazine down and leaned back in the plastic covered chair. “The air seems to be doing wonders for him. And of course he’s down at the lake almost everyday. He’s starting to be like his old self.”

Jane smiled and nodded at me. “Good. Very good. A strong husband is what every wife needs.”

I never needed James to be strong, not in the traditional sense.

“Mrs. McLeod, we’re ready for you.” A light blonde said as she stepped out of the back. Another woman whisked past, going out the door with a glance towards me.

I followed her to the back while Jane sat up in excitement. “I’m sorry, I don’t really have an idea of what I want today.”

The blonde’s all too perfect smile beamed back at me. I was reminded that I needed to check out the dentist here. James and I hadn’t really gone since his illness had progressed.

“That’s alright, I can help you out with that. I’m Rebecca by the way.” She led me to a little room in the back done all up in green with antique pictures hanging on the walls. The whole room seemed out of time.

She sat me down upon the old chair and leaned it back, placing my head upon the lip of the sink. “You do have very thick hair,” she said over me as water began to rush down.

The water was cold, unbearably cold. It made my scalp tingle and my teeth ache. I wanted to say something, but I kept quiet. I saw that creature again, the one that pulled me into the lake. Or was it a nightmare? It seems so fuzzy and vague now. But I recall it clearly. Those eyes. Those big, wide, sad eyes.

“You know, I hear all the gossip around here.”

I opened my eyes and swallowed. The water was growing warmer. “Do you have something about me then?”

She laughed. “Oh just that Lachlan has taken a liking to you.”

My eyes went to the wall again, the faded wallpaper, the mirror that was cracking all around the edges. The pictures on the wall were old, black and white and faded from the sun. There was a photo of a little girl with a bike. Another of a dapper man whose face had faded past recognition. There was a round portrait of a lovely woman who resembled Rebecca.

“We’re a small town with not much going on. Any bit of news gets pulled and twisted like taffy.” Rebecca's fingers were strangely sharp against my scalp as she shampooed it.

I flinched, wanting to yank away, but I couldn’t. “He’s been helping James and I move in. He’s been a big help. James still loses wind fairly easily.”

“But he’s doing much better, I hear.”

I furrowed my brow. “He is.”

Rebecca took the spout and began rinsing my hair. “That's good. A strong man is good for a town.”

I was about to say something when Rebecca gasped. “I know just the perfect style for you!” She said excitedly. “Do you trust me? Oh I promise it’ll look wonderful. And if you don’t like it, you don’t have to pay.”

“I guess?” I was so taken aback I wasn’t sure what to say or do. She seemed genuinely excited.

“Wonderful!” Rebecca sighed in what sounded like bliss.

She worked for longer than I wanted to be in that chair, setting curls, and doing what I suspect was some sort of perm. I was nauseous from the chemical smell. I was set under an old hair dryer and told to relax.

When Rebecca left the room I was there alone, unable to hear anything over the roar of the hair dryer. From where I was sitting now, I could see more pictures on the wall. All old, all faded enough to where things were hard to make out. Lots of pictures of men, all of them had something wrong with the picture, the glass, even the frame. Then there was one of a young woman with dark hair all piled to one side, almost alone at the far edge.

I don’t know if it was the queasiness from the chemicals or the heat, but I was suddenly unwell. I pushed the hair dryer away and tried to stand, but I fell to my knees again. After the initial shock, I stood up shakily and pressed my hand against the wall. I inched slowly, practically dragging myself along.

A deafening crunch fell behind me, and I turned to see one of the pictures had fallen off the wall, glass glittering everywhere. I kept moving, I could explain it to Rebecca later. Then another portrait fell. Then another and another. I was trying to walk and they all fell behind me. I couldn’t move fast enough.

I almost fell at the end of the wall, gripping onto the corner. The portrait of the woman fell, hitting my arm. The sharp frame put a hole in my arm, and the searing pain turned my stomach even more. It fell to the floor face up, I fell to my knees, leaning over top of it. I could see her closely now. Her eyes staring out at me beyond the glass. I saw myself in her place, sitting poised so prettily, wearing a gown that swallowed me up like pretty flower petals. My mouth opened in the portrait, whispering for me.

I smelled smoke, and my dress began to go up in flames. I sat there, surrounded by fire and smoke, unmoving, unblinking. My skin melted away in chunks, peeling back from muscle and bone. Out before me I saw the town, I saw the women shrieking in horror, clawing at the ground as they were held back. Bodies lay at my feet, burnt, melting bodies that I was happy to see.

I smiled, looking back out upon the women. I was truly happy. Burning alive, I was the one who was no longer suffering. They were the ones who were suffering. I can’t entirely blame them. But they were all at fault as well. They could have spoken for me. But they didn’t.

I started to giggle, my mouth opened wide into a horrible laugh. I cackled, I screamed. My mouth tore open wide to red and gore. I laughed harder, I shouldn’t have been able to with all the smoke and flames. I laughed and I laughed and I laughed until there was no more pain. No more fury. Just quiet and peace on earth. True bliss.

“Wake up Lori. Wake up.”

I opened my eyes to the ceiling, seeing Jane fanning me with a magazine. “I told you that damned old hair dryer got too hot, Rebecca!”

“You try to order a new one for me then,” Rebecca huffed back. “Is she okay?”

I swallowed, but my mouth was so dry. My throat was sore beyond belief. “I’m sorry,” my voice croaked and cracked. “I’m sorry about the pictures.”

“Pictures?” Rebecca murmured.

“You passed out!” Jane said slowly and loudly to me.

I groaned and clasped my temple. “My head. I felt sick for a second.”

“Get her some water,” Jane fussed at Rebecca with hushed urgency. She turned back to me, continuing to fan me. “We called your house. Someone is coming to get you.”

I closed my eyes again, still reeling. Jane helped me sit up so I could drink water. But I tasted rancid. I wretched and bent over, throwing up onto the floor. It was all so fast, from one moment to the next it was both eternity and seconds.

There was silence between Rebecca and Jane. I didn’t stay long to say much else. I ran outside for fresh air. But for some reason all I could smell was smoke. I spat into a potted plant outside, then slid down the wall to rest and catch my breath.

“You look like her, you know?”

I opened my eyes to see an old man standing over me. “I beg your pardon?” I heaved, sweat dripping down my brow.

“Goodness, you do look like Laura. That’s not good,” the old man shook his head. “Not good at all.” He sounded frightened.

“Laura who?” I shook my head, it didn’t matter. I felt too bad to care about anything like that.

“This place ain’t good for folks like you,” he whispered. “Ma’am, you shouldn’t have come here. Not looking like that poor girl. I may be old now, but I remember it like it was yesterday. never forgot Laura Harrison. Young lady, take my hand.”

I opened my eyes to look at this old man, but all I saw was Lachlan walking up behind him. “What are you doing here?”

The old man turned around and stepped out of the way. He didn’t say so much as a word to Lachlan and he scurried as fast as he could across the street.

“Are you alright?” Lachlan knelt down beside me. He put his hand over my head, the cold was just what I needed.

I breathed out slowly, relying on his touch to save me. “I don’t know. Jane said I passed out. I threw up-” I went to point but decided he didn’t need to see that.

“Poor thing. It’s all alright now. I’ll get you home.” He smoothed his hand back towards my hair. “Do you think you can get up and walk at all?”

I tried to stand and my legs wobbled beneath me. I took a few steps and then Lachlan picked me up, swooping my legs out from under me. “Wait! It’s-” I was held against Lachlan, and at first I went rigid, but the more I was held in his grasp, the more I was comforted. I closed my eyes, relieved to be off my feet and away from the world.

I saw the woman from the portrait. Myself, I mean. I was dressed in red, sitting by the edge of the pond. A man approached and I was excited, at first I thought it was James. The light reflecting off the water hit my eyes, and I couldn’t quite see him at first. I ran to be near him and I was pulled away. The man became tied and bound, a sack with a morbid face was thrown over him. I cried for him, I screamed, losing my voice in the process. He was thrown into the water while the hands that held me all over my body, pulled my limbs, my hair, they ripped my clothes away from my body and threw me to the floor.

“-even at the garage there was only women there,” I heard my mother in law fussing. “I thought this town was nice at first, now it’s this big lesbian commune.”

“Mom,” James said sternly. “This is what you’re choosing to complain about?”

“I’m just saying-”

“Stop it. I invited you over to help me with the house so Lori wouldn’t have to worry when she gets up.” James' definitive tone made me happy. He sounded strong again. I sat up in bed, looking around at the dark room. All the curtains were drawn tight, but I could see slivers of daylight peeking through.

I sat up from bed and there was a sore, aching pain through all my limbs. What the hell happened to me? All I wanted was to get my hair done. “Fuck-” I grumbled.

“I think I hear her.” James said in a low, hushed voice. Moments later, the door opened. “You’re up. That’s great.”

“My whole body is killing me,” I groaned.

I couldn’t see James as the light back lit him. He came into the room, sitting down on the bed with me. He put his hand upon my forehead, and it was cold. “You probably need something to eat. Definitely some water.”

My eyes adjusted, and I looked up at him. Long hair draped over his shoulders and I was confused. I rubbed my eyes to focus. James' eyes were dark. No, they’re supposed to be blue, right?

“Can you get up?” He asked. His voice sounded different too.

I was more worried about my head than I was about my legs. “I think so.”

James gave me his hand and helped me up. My legs felt more sure than they did before. “There we go. Come on, some fresh air should do you some good.”

“Is she up?” My mother in law called from the kitchen.

“Yes, Mom.”

I blinked a few times, looking up at James as we stepped out. I pulled my hand away, I recognized him, but it wasn’t James. I stepped away, trying to rush along the side of the house to put space between us.

“Lori, what’s wrong?” He asked.

I shook my head, still glaring up at him. “Where’s James?”

He chuckled. “I’m James. Goodness, maybe you're allergic to whatever Rebecca used at the hair salon.” His pale hand reached for me, trying to take my hand but I yanked it away. He looked sad and frightened. “Lori!”

“Lachlan, this isn’t funny.” I glanced back into the house, seeing he was away from the door now. I ran inside, slamming the door shut and locking it. Lachlan beat upon the door and rattled the doorknob.

“Lori, honey,” James’ mother said behind me. “What’s going on, what are you doing?” She came down the hall towards me, wearing one of those gauzy, flowy caftans she liked so much.

I ran to her, grabbing her and trying to pull her away from the door. “Is this a joke? Where’s James really at?”

“Oh, Lori!” She pushed me off and went to the door, unlocking it and opening it. “Stop playing around. We’ve been worried sick about you all day.” She smiled as Lachlan came inside the house again. “James had us rush home when he heard.” She placed her hand upon his back.

“That’s not-” I stepped away, moving towards the back of the foyer. “Is this a joke?” I forced out a laugh. “Come on.”

“Maybe I should call a doctor.” My mother in law stepped away from Lachlan and I darted back into the kitchen. I grabbed the car keys on the table and I ran outside and around the house. I was heading towards the car when Lachlan opened the front door.

“Lori, get back here!” He sounded so concerned. “You’re scaring me.”

I was about to reach the car when I was grabbed from behind. “Lori! I’m so glad you’re okay!” Jane’s hand held me in a death grip. “How’re you feeling?”

I yanked my arm, trying to free myself. I had been trying to stay calm, but this was making me panic. “Let go of me!”

“Thank you, Mrs. Lancaster,” Lachlan sighed with relief. “I think she’s still a bit loopy. It’s like she doesn’t recognize me.”

“I told Rebecca she needed to update her equipment,” Jane scoffed. She handed me over to Lachlan and it was like my body was quitting.

“It’s alright.” Lachlan scooped me up in his arms like he did before. “I’ll put her back to bed.” He carried me inside, Jane watching us intently the entire time.

Once inside, Lachlan took me into the bedroom and set me back down upon the bed. “Lay down. I’ll go get you some water-”

I knocked his hand away from me. “What’re you doing? You’re not James. I know who you are.”

Lachlan looked me over with a gaze I couldn’t read. He touched my face with that cold hand of his. My body relaxed despite my nerves still frying at the ends. He laid me back, brushing my hair away from my face.

“You won’t get hurt again. Not this time,” he whispered.  “No one is around to put their filthy hands on you,” his voice grew dark and raspy. “No one to drag us apart. You came back to me. After all this time.”

Tears ran down my eyes. “Lachlan-”

He pulled the blanket over me and tucked me in. “Don’t worry, Laura. I can protect you now. I promise.” Lachlan lifted my hand, placing it upon his gaunt face. Tears streamed out of his eyes and his skin felt slimy and slick. I wanted to pull away, but I always didn’t want him to cry despite everything that was happening.

“Laura,” he whimpered pathetically, falling over onto the bed. “My Laura!” he sobbed while I laid there.

Eventually my eyes closed, and I saw fire spread out before me.

[buckevantommy]

https://www.tumblr.com/buckevantommy/757878657756872704/btw-i-dont-think-we-need-to-worry-about-buck-and

Agree 100%. But, to further expand that, and going outside the world of the show.

From a GA perspective, or the audience full stop, how many partners are we willing to watch before we lose interest? By this I mean - if the writers are spending screen time / several episodes introducing a new character and a new relationship, usually we get invested. And when that person disappears, it can be frustrating, and the introduction of a new person (thus the start of the cycle again), can feel a bit tiring. Every time they need to find something that makes the audience go: okay, it’s worth for me to care about this character.

Buck’s case is a bit particular, because his relationships haven’t been all that well received (until now). Either it was an ‘okay’ situation, without much interest, or an okay reception but controversial at times (for me, Taylor - I do think the GA was okay with her, but ultimately the couple was not good). Tommy has been imo the first relationship that truly has brought in lots of positive and good reviews and a good investment of attention from fans and even GA. Tommy’s clips in any social media are usually the ones with most views, and in things like IG it goes to talk about the GA more than a focused fandom.

This to say - if Buck was to break up with Tommy, I think a lot of the audience would be frustrated or even grow bored of the constant change of partners. Even, they would be less receptive to a future new partner, because if Tommy (so well received) is gone, who would even stay?

Not to say this means Tommy is Buck’s endgame, because no one knows. But at some point the constant change of partners gets old, and we know Tim agrees when he expressed wanting to get Buck off the hamster wheel (something Oliver agreed on), and Tommy is a really strong character to have Buck settle with.

Long story short: not only from a SL perspective, but Bucktommy being long lasting makes sense for the overall image of the show.

You're absolutely right nonny.

bc if we think about bucktommy in terms of it being Buck's relationship aka. a main character's relationship, enough is enough on dragging him from illfit to illfit - that guy deserves to be settled, at ease in himself, as Bobby once told him, and we've already seen Tommy help make that happen for him.

and if we look back at Buck's relationship history: we're 7 years into poor matches for a guy who has always wanted to love and be loved - and Tommy can be that for him! he has been that for him so far and could so easily fit into the narrative as Buck's significant other moving forward indefinitely. Tommy already feels like the missing piece to Buck's story the same way Karen was for Hen and Maddie was for Chim and Athena was for Bobby - and he's a fleshed out character in his own right just as those partners are.

enough screwing around with Buck's relationships. sometimes it feels like just bc he started out as a fuckboy he somehow doesn't deserve a stable, healthy, loving relationship, like the narrative is going out of its way to ruin any chance he has at that for the sake of drama (but again: none of his previous partners were the right match for him).

i'm going to mention dear dean winchester again bc he has so much in common with Buck, and these kinds of characters (male, strong, macho, attractive, swagger, charming, sexually active, presumably bisexual) always cycle through relationships that never pan out - bc they're not the right fit, but moreover bc these partners seem written in just to be eventually written out, there to help the main character's plot along, aid in some personal growth and add drama, maybe attract more viewership for those interested in seeing more (temporary) female characters.

but it is.. *sigh* tiresome, indeed. let Buck have a stable partner - like Hen, and Chim, and Bobby do - and let their relationship be woven into the narrative to create a richer tapestry like those other pairings do. that is so much more satisfying in terms of storytelling and character growth, than trying to insert drama snags that threaten to unravel things. you can still have drama with committed pairings - every other committed pairing in the show is proof of that.

and if we take off the shipper googles: Tommy is good as Buck's partner, he makes sense, and he has great potential in the longrun both as Buck's boyfriend/husband and as his own character within the wider narrative of the show. he's a natural fit, but he's also entertaining and he has history with most of the main characters already.

i really do see Tommy as Buck's endgame btw, bc they work so well together as a pairing but also as independant characters. BUT i wouldn't be mad about them breaking up/taking a break (as i mentioned in that post: uncertainty about having kids; a potential permanent job position out of state) and then come back together stronger for it. we saw it happen with Henren (but i don't want to see cheating with our boys bc it doesn't fit who they are) so we know if they do breakup it doesn't have to be permanent - and i actually would love the mirror to Buck's first serious relationship where Abby leaves him - only Tommy comes back to him.

[verstarppen]

A THANK YOU LETTER

an apology and update! for all you beautiful people - 2 for the price of 1

hello! over the months i've written and deleted this letter because i was too much of a coward to show my face after i left. i contemplated if it would be adequate enough, if it even matters. At the end, i owe this fandom too much, so here it is:

THE APOLOGY

i am truly sorry. there's no better way of putting it.

the more i create the more i realise how this fandom held my hand and i simply wouldn't be the person i am now if this blog never existed. i've always struggled with sharing art and writing online, as i thought it was too lame and took the coward route of keeping it to myself and my closest friends.

ever since this blog, i've found that less of an issue. the more i think about how much i let you and myself down by disappearing the more i feel the shame weigh me down. i never wanted to leave, but life has this funny way of forcing your hand when you least expect it.

without getting too personal, this year hasn't been great for me or anyone close to me - friendships died, family members were hospitalised, university crushed me, expectations from everyone around me made me question if i'm failing in every aspect of my life, i lost passions like art - something i've always thought of as my dream career, and i fear the stress will only grow rather than die down.

in some of those harder moments i would always turn to a distraction, create something for a fandom i enjoy to get my mind off things. to see your comments and your messages always kept me going even when i physically couldn't take the stress of everything around me anymore. being busy made my flame for F1 dwindle, too. it's one of the main reasons i didn't return earlier. I've missed half the races this year, yes that includes both lando and oscar's wins, and although im looking forward to the summer break ending and the racecs coming back, i don't think the enthusiasm will ever return to the way it was when this blog was at its peak.

i feel like a coward for disappearing and it's a big regret of mine this year. i can't promise to write for F1 again, but what i've made will always be archieved here :)

THE UPDATE

not great. i can't even lie i'm not doing too hot right now. i promised i would return to writing when things finally calmed down and yet the more stress there was the more one off projects i made to combat it. throughout the months i've accumulated a lot of side projects for different fandoms like star wars, star trek, dc, merlin and lesser known fandoms such as heavy rain, mortal kombat, the sims (no seriously have you seen the lore) etc. that i have nowhere to post. in april i decided i can't afford (literally) to distract myself with any hobby projects for the sake of my situation and thus... i was an idiot and i deleted my ao3 account. there weren't that many stories on there anyway, but i regret it even if it was the right decision.

i owe @wtfisakilometer2 so much for telling me that the people who love the blog wouldn't mind what fandom it is as long as it's by me, even if i don't fully believe it. it did open my eyes to finally write this, though, so direct all your love to her.

so that leaves me here, sort of homeless on my own blog and with very conflicting feelings about it's direction. i intend to preserve it as an archive of my F1 writing without messing with it, but still let you know about my new ao3 and everything on it so i can keep both our interests in mind.

thank you for reading if you made it this far, i hope you have an awesome day and a lot of cat memes in your pinterest. thank you for all the lovely messages (i read everything) and thank you for everything this fandom has offered me. i will truly never get over you guys.

- star :)

[nicoline1998enilocin]

Everything I ever wanted

Pairing -> Husband!Tony Stark x Wife!Fem!Reader

Word count -> 2K

Summary -> During your pregnancy, Tony couldn't keep his hands off you, and neither of you could get enough of each other. Now that your twin boys are born, he wants nothing more than to have you pregnant with his babies again, and he'll let you know exactly how he's planning on doing that.

Rating -> Explicit (E)

Warnings -> Established relationship ~ Husband/Wife, age gap ~ 10 years, references to breastfeeding, use of pet name ~ Gorgeous, references to pregnancy/childbirth.

Smut -> Breeding kink, pregnancy kink, lactation kink, Daddy kink, drinking of breastmilk (sexual), dirty talk, vaginal fingering, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!), creampie, implied aftercare.

A/n -> My deepest appreciation and love goes out to @ccbsrmsf1 for helping me with the ideas for this fic because this couldn't have existed without your help! From listening to my ideas to bringing in some of your own, you have helped me a lot! I love you so much 🩵

A/n 2.0 -> My requests are open again! Please consider that I only have 24 hours in my day, so it might take a while to get the new requests posted, but I expect to post them around February/March. I'll be looking forward to what you will all come up with, and I can't wait to start writing requests again 🩵

Banners: @vase-of-lilies | Divider: @firefly-graphics | GIF: Owner

Main Masterlist | Tony Stark Masterlist | Read on AO3

You're sitting on the couch with your son, Joseph, watching TV and breastfeeding him. Next to you is your husband, Tony, holding the other half of your beautiful twin boys - Jacob. While your attention is divided between your son and the TV, Tony can only focus on one thing: the taste of the delicious milk your body produces.

It was relatively early on in your pregnancy that you and Tony found out he had a lactation kink, and as soon as your milk came in, he was nursing from you to get the edge off.

And now, as he's sitting on the couch next to you, there's nothing else he would rather do than wrap his pink, plump lips around your sensitive nipple to get every last drop of the precious milk he so much desires from your body.

"Careful before you drop him while you stare," you joke, and a bright red flush spreads over his cheeks as he knows he got caught staring. He adjusts his hold on his son, who is comfortably snuggled up in his dad's arms during his nap.

It's good that Joseph was quickly done drinking because while both boys were down for their nap, Tony pulled you into your shared bedroom for his fill of your milk. Soon, you're completely bare on the bed while he has one of your sensitive nipples in his mouth, sucking and drinking from you as moans tumble from his lips.

One of his hands has found its way between your legs, his thick, long fingers slowly thrusting in and out of your wet pussy, his thumb giving some attention to your clit. It's not enough for you to cum yet, but with him drinking from you, your pleasure is very much heightened in the process.

His clothes are strewn across the floor, and his hips are rutting against the soft fabric of the sheets to give himself a little relief, too. His cock is achingly hard as he tries to alleviate some of the arousal he's feeling, not wanting this to be over before it even starts. A deep moan escapes your lips when he changes the angle of his fingers, finding your sweet spot effortlessly.

"D-Daddy!" you exclaim as one of your hands squeezes his bicep, leaving small crescent moon-shaped indents where your fingers are, the other laced in his hair, pulling roughly as your orgasm threatens to wash over you with a powerful force.

"C'mon, Gorgeous, cum for Daddy," he coaxes you, and it doesn't take much more for you to fall over the edge finally, his fingers thrusting in and out at a brutal pace, his thumb stimulating your clit to work you through and prolong your orgasm all at the same time. A deep groan falls from Tony's lips, reverberating through your entire body as he sucks the last drops of your milk out of your breast.

"Look at you, such a good girl for Daddy," he purrs at you before removing his hand carefully and climbing up, capturing your lips in a soft, sweet kiss that has your head reeling in excitement.

"I'm fortunate to call you my wife, Gorgeous, and you're such a perfect mama as well for our boys," Tony tells you as he places small kisses from your mouth to your jaw and neck. Before he met you, he would never have thought he'd ever have a kid of his own, let alone two at the same time.

Tony has been working in his lab for most of the morning while you're sitting in the large bathroom attached to the main bedroom on your floor of the Avengers Compound. Your phone is in your hand as you're waiting for the timer to go off, which seems endless. Your eyes are shut as you nervously await the test results, secretly hoping for a positive result.

It has been about two months since you and Tony got married, and even though you never talked about having children - with Tony still busy as he saves the world as Iron Man - it's something you've been wishing for. Every birthday, every Christmas, your one wish was to become a mother, and the universe is finally swinging things your way.

The alarm finally goes off, and you quickly grab the test, which shows a very clear positive. You're pregnant and can't wait to tell your husband this fantastic news. With the test in your hand, you practically run through the building and down to Tony's lab, where he is tinkering with yet another one of his projects.

When you're at the door, Jarvis automatically opens it for you, and before Tony can even lift his head your way, you're already throwing yourself around his neck, sobbing from pure excitement.

"I'm pregnant, Tony! We're going to be parents!" you exclaim after pulling away, and you see a slight hint of fear on Tony's face before a wide smile appears, and the earlier emotion is nowhere to be seen. He is going to be a Dad, something he has never even given a second thought to until now.

"Are you- Wait, are we going to be parents? Oh my god, I'm so happy right now!" he says before grabbing the backs of your thighs and placing you onto the workbench, capturing your lips in a hungry kiss. The positive test is long forgotten as it drops to the floor, and Tony makes love to you right then and there.

"You'll be so beautiful when you're pregnant, all round with my baby, these tits all big and full with milk. Can't wait to have a taste of it, Gorgeous, want to nurse off these fucking tits every single day," he tells you between the rough, short thrusts. When both of you are completely spent, you collapse against Tony with a content smile, knowing you'll be starting a family in a few months.

He has been such a supportive husband throughout the pregnancy, from rubbing your feet when they got sore to listening to your endless rambles; he did all of it without a shadow of a doubt. And now, after a long delivery, you're both holding your twins in your arms. Jacob, the firstborn, and his brother, Joseph. They are identical twin boys, and both carbon copies of Tony.

As he looks at them, he feels a love that he can't explain. It's something he's never felt before, but he knows he will do anything and everything to protect his beautiful boys. And to know he has made these wonderful humans with you, the love of his life is the cherry on top.

As he thinks about the way you looked when you were pregnant, he knows he doesn't want to wait for another second but instead, he wants to be buried deep inside you to get you pregnant again, breeding you until you're dripping with his cum between your thighs.

"Can't stop thinking about how fucking hard I get when you're pregnant for me, Gorgeous. Having my babies growing in there has me going crazy," he tells you as he guides you comfortably onto your back, your hair spread around your head like a halo. You're looking up at him with love- and lust-filled eyes, biting your bottom lip in anticipation of what's coming.

He pulls your lip out of its soft grip with his thumb before grabbing it between his own, nibbling softly before pulling away and releasing the soft flesh from the gentle grip. A slight whine escapes your mouth as you get restless, needing to be filled by your husband before the twins wake up from their nap.

"What do you think, Gorgeous? Shall I fuck another baby into this perfect pussy of yours? This tight, warm cunt I love to be buried in? Spilling every last drop of my cum into it until it sticks, and you're pregnant for me, giving me another baby or two?" he asks as he guides your legs up, and you grab them by the backs of your thighs so you're beautifully presented for him.

"Maybe we'll make a little girl this time, what do you think? Having a little Princess to make our family complete," he whispers against the shell of your ear as he lines up with your entrance, your slick dripping out at a steady pace as you're getting more and more turned on by his words.

Without a single warning, he slides it into the hilt, and you clench down on his cock, feeling every single ridge and vein on his thick and long member inside you as you adjust to his size. Even after giving birth to the twins, it's a little bit of a stretch, and the moan leaving your lips is almost pornographic.

"Yes, Daddy! Please, fuck another baby into me; wan' all your babies and be pregnant for you all the time," you beg him, and that's all he needs to hear before setting a brutal pace, sitting back on his haunches as he holds your legs so far they're almost touching your shoulders, only intensifying the pleasure you're feeling.

With every thrust, he hits the perfect spot inside of you that has you seeing stars, driving you extremely close to the edge without tipping you over just yet. Your hands are gripping the sheets tightly, and Tony can feel himself getting harder inside you as he watches your breasts sway back and forth with each thrust.

"Fuck, Gorgeous, you're gripping me like a damn vice, 'm gonna cum for you! Take all of your Daddy's cum like the cumslut you are," he growls before letting one of your legs go and instead opting to give some love to your clit as well, which turns out to be your undoing. A wail of his name is enough to send him over the edge, too, making him fuck every last drop of his cum inside of you.

"Jesus, fuck! Take it, Gorgeous, take your Daddy's cum like you're meant to; gonna keep you pregnant for me all the time. Always want this delicious milk of yours," he says as he works both of you through your orgasms before collapsing next to you and panting heavily while some of his load drips out of you, your pussy unable to keep it all inside.

After he pulled out, he looked at the mess you had both made before scooping some of the cum with his fingers and shoving it back into you, not wanting to waste a single drop of it.

"We have to make sure it sticks, Gorgeous; we don't want to take any chances," he tells you as you gasp from overstimulation, but you also love it. By the time he's done, he lets you clean his fingers, and you moan contently at the faint taste of his cum that's lingering on them.

"I love you, Gorgeous, more than I'll ever be able to tell you," he says before pulling you close. You two lay like that for a few minutes before it's time for a shower, where you both wash each other gently, being careful of any sensitive areas.

It turns out that Tony's sperm is a lot stronger than either of you could have ever anticipated because nine months later, you're in the hospital again, and you have given birth to two beautiful identical girls, who are exact copies of their Mom. Baby Sophia and baby Olivia are your family's newest members, and they complete it.

When it's finally time to go home to your little boys, Tony can't help but look at you as you're getting one of the twins ready. What came out of his mouth, however, is something you didn't think he'd ever ask, though it doesn't surprise you either as you burst out into laughter.

"So, can we make another one?" he asks with a straight face, and it makes the moment perfect. His humor is one of the things you fell for; even in moments like these, you'll never get sick of it.

"Maybe later; right now, we have to take our girls home," you say with a content smile as you rub your thumb over little Olivia's cheek. You have never felt more in love than you do now and never want to leave the beautiful pink cloud you're sitting on.

[turn3tifosi]

VIII. our last summer

charles leclerc x model!reader

a summer romance hidden from the cameras and everyone but you and him, a chance at normalcy for you both

series masterlist | main masterlist

The glitz and glamour of the gala could not hide your disinterest. As a famous model, you were no stranger to such events, but tonight, you craved anonymity. Mingling among the elite, you longed for an escape from the flash of cameras and the endless small talk. As you scanned the room, your eyes landed on a familiar face. Charles Leclerc, Ferrari's star driver, stood by the bar, looking equally disenchanted, though the only reason you recognised it was because you saw him rolling his eyes. He was a good actor.

You had heard about Charles through the media, admired his prowess on the track, but never had the chance to meet him in person. There was something magnetic about his presence, a shared sense of disconnection from the event. Gathering your courage, you made your way to the bar.

"Not a fan of these things either?" you asked, your voice carrying a hint of humour.

Charles looked up, his green eyes meeting yours, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "You could say that. They’re always the same, aren't they?"

You chuckled, nodding in agreement. The conversation flowed effortlessly from there. You talked about everything except the worlds you both inhabited – no racing, no modelling. It was a refreshing change, a rare moment of normalcy.

As the night wore on, you found yourselves gravitating towards each other. "I was thinking of taking a walk," Charles suggested. "Care to join me?"

You accepted without hesitation. Outside, Paris was alive with its usual magic. The two of you strolled along the Seine, the city lights reflecting off the water. The cool summer breeze felt liberating. For the first time in a long while, you felt free.

Over the next few days, you and Charles spent every moment together. You sat on the grass near the Eiffel Tower, shared quiet meals in quaint little bistros, and even visited a few hidden gems only the locals knew about. It was a time without worries, without cameras – just the two of you living in the moment.

One afternoon, as you both lounged on the grass, you turned to Charles. "This feels like a dream."

He smiled, brushing a strand of hair from your face. "Then let's not wake up."

The summer break flew by in a blur of laughter and stolen glances. It was a time of no regrets, a brief interlude where the world and its expectations melted away. But like all good things, it had to end. The racing season was about to resume, and you had to return to your life as well.

You two decided to not keep in touch. As much as it hurt you both, you knew the relationship would not last long, with both of you constantly travelling. And just because a love doesn’t last forever, doesn’t mean it isn’t love. It was love when he held your hand like he would never let go, and it was love when he let go.

Fast forward a year. The Monaco Grand Prix was in full swing, and you had received an invitation to the Scuderia Ferrari paddock. Dressed impeccably, you walked through the bustling area, heart pounding with anticipation. You hadn’t seen Charles since that summer.

As you entered the paddock, you spotted him immediately. He was surrounded by his team, the epitome of a professional athlete. He glanced your way, a fleeting moment of recognition in his eyes. Taking a deep breath, you approached him.

"Charles, it's a pleasure to meet you," you said, extending your hand, your voice steady despite the butterflies in your stomach.

He shook your hand, a polite smile on his face. "Likewise. I've heard so much about you."

The pretence was necessary, you both knew. This was not the time or place to acknowledge your shared past. And perhaps, there was no time or place to acknowledge the past, not when you were both in committed relationships now, and happily so.

[faeriekit]

some venting: on parent fandom acceptance and the danny phantom tag

Honestly, the worst thing that certain Danny Phantom fans have done on this site to other fans is say that dp x dc is its own fandom. It's not. There's no such thing as a "crossover fandom" unique unto itself. You can say that people are too into this crossover or too into this au or whatever, but people who are fans of DC and Danny Phantom are into Danny Phantom and DC. That's just. What it is. Both properties are cool and combining them adds more characters and settings to play with together. All lore leads back to one or both parent fandoms, because those are the source material.

"Well the DC crossovers are so different—" Please. There have been Danny Phantom and Teen Titans crossovers since Danny Phantom was airing. I have read crossovers with House, NCIS, Supernatural, and probably anything else ffn had to bother with. One of my favorite works is a Gravity Falls fancomic that I still hope will update one day. No one cared how it was crossover then. In fact, I would say that we were one of the most crossed-over properties I knew of at the time that wasn't a SuperWhoLock-type popular show. DC crossovers are not new, they're just popular now.

"Well, it's got its own lore! >:(" Oh, like the vivisection aus? The Full Ghost aus? The corpse aus? The Danny-is-a-portal aus?? Tell me more about how new it is for an au to have its own unique lore. Love to hear it. Definitely it's the same for every author with no variation. There's for sure no unique takes from fans at every step of the way.

"Well, there's so MUCH of it." Tell me more about how other people having fun in their own way is your problem. Go ahead. Tell me more about how other people doing their own thing is personally horrible to you. It's really terrible when people do things you don't want to engage with, isn't it. It has to be separate from your fun. There is definitely no place where they blend; it has to be segregated altogether.

"But they're doing it in MY tag!" Oh, the Danny Phantom tag? The one with Danny in it? Where he's a main character? In the art and fic where he features??

The result is exactly as you'd expect; people who would be interested in joining the Danny Phantom community and making art and fic long-term because they like the characters and the show are getting sidelined because they're failing to like the show in the 'right way'. People who might love to join in and participate in community events and discussion and bring new ideas and aus to the table are being told that they like something completely different than the show in a way that, you know, somehow the original and extremely malleable fandom isn't??

I've been following multiple Danny Phantom blogs (or their author blogs that used to post dp fic) on and off on different accounts since 2015. I used to read Danny Phantom fanfic on ffn on my ipod touch during lunch or on my laptop once I made it home from school years before I even made a tumblr. I used to look forward to Dannymay and Ectober and I think I was even on tumblr the year that Narwhals started the Dannypocalypse?? (I for sure only saw the fallout though. I think I was busy that day)

I don't even open the Danny Phantom tag anymore. I still follow the people I follow...minus the people who've talked crap about fans who like Danny Phantom wrong, apparently, and I hope that good art comes my way without the constant underlying message that we're a scourge on our own fandom, I guess.

Congrats. There are no Danny Phantom fans who find the show through this form of crossover content. You've convinced them there's no point. They have their own tag, their own headcanons, their own fics, and their own culture. Are you happy now? Are you proud to be the fandom that doesn't want new fans? Is it nice, that people won't want to see your art and fics now, despite being hungry for new content? Did it help? Are you better for it? Did you maintain that canon purity you craved??

I saw a supernatural x danny phantom art piece today that kicked ass. It's from an artist I really, really like, who makes a lot of great stuff. I've bought their merch before and was excited all the way through their creative journey. No one tried to jump on them for crossover posting in the Danny Phantom space, using lore that's unique to that crossover.

But it's not about the crossover itself, is it.