#like at this point if you don't like it you can ignore it but it's VERY clear to me IS is going with it now

[slvttyplum]

Yn arguing with the JJK men about her not running from dick, so they record her for “evidence” (Gojo, Geto, Nanami, and Toji pls or you can just pick whoever you think this resonates best with) btw I love your blog🫶🏾🫶🏾🫶🏾

suguru hated when you lied about the littlest things, because why? you didn't just lie about anything, though; it was about how you were in bed. he had observant eyes; he knew what got you soaking and what had you squirming and whining, so of course he got defensive when you denied every one of those things with a straight face, and even when he told you that no, you were lying, you would still deny it. 

being who he was, he got irritated a little too quickly when it came to this topic, so he did what he had to do, whipping that camera out while he was fucking you. 

he was going to do it sneakingly while he had you in that one position that you were squirming and running from him in. placing you on your stomach and pushing your lower back as you had your ass in the air, making sure his phone was within arm reach, and placing both hands on your ass and sliding himself in.

a sharp gasp as he keeps sliding into you, not expecting to feel all of him at once, your hands balling a handful of the sheet as you keep your hands open and your eyes squeezed shut. he wasn't stopping; he wanted to make sure that you were a crying and moaning mess, and he succeeded. 

you were so fucked out of your mind that you couldn't stop, pushing yourself into him with a wet face as you felt every inch buried deep inside of you, the tip of his dick pressing on your sweet spot, and your walls clinging around him. 

he had to suppress his whimpers due to the intense pleasure he was experiencing. grabbing his phone to record how well you took him, watching through the screen your wetness covering his dick every time you slid off his dick and back on, your pretty crying from the pleasure crashing down on you. 

when it started to get too much, you did what he always claimed you did, grabbing forward and trying to tap out, but that wasn't going to happen. 

he wanted to make sure you took every fucking inch, even when you didn't think you could. he knew how you responded to him, but once you started to get overstimulated and squirmed from his every touch, he knew that's when you had enough, but he didn't.

suguru didn't just stop here, though; he needed evidence, so he made sure to do this multiple times and in multiple positions, his camera roll filled with all the videos of you going crazy on his dick while whining out his name to give you more. 

he almost felt bad at recording his most intimate moments with you, but he just had to remember he was proving a point, until he was purposely fucking you until the early morning, when your eyes were swollen from your crying and he could barely cum anymore. 

a point was made, so he decided to finally test out what you were going to say when he asked you, having all the videos in one folder so he could pull them out when needed.

"you run from dick, and it gets exhausting, baby." teasing you while pulling out his phone, knowing it'd get you riled up. he knew you liked the back of his hand because it did. 

"shut the fuck up, i don't." crossing your arms and your mouth widening while suguru shows you the multiple videos of you getting your shit beat in, embarrassment covering your face as he turns up the volume.

"come on, baby... there we gooo. you take me so well."

he can safely say that you never tried to lie your way out of those accusations; instead, you groan and ignore him.

[qqueenofhades]

There is no law that prevents a convicted felon from running for and becoming president, nor a law that bans someone from being president in prison. Also, if Trump gets incapacitated in someway, many ultra right republicans who equally despise trans people and immigrants and Muslims would happily take his place

And I ask, with all due respect, what is your point?

Do you think I don't know that?

Do you think I am somehow convinced that everything is hunky dory now and we don't have any work left to do?

Are you just determined to be the first of the gloom-and-doomers who show up like clockwork in my inbox, every time some consequence happens to Trump, to morosely insist that no consequences will happen to him? First it was "he'll win re-election." Then it was "the coup will succeed." Then it was "he will never be indicted." Then it was "2022 will be a red wave!" Then it was "he will never be tried." Then it was "he will never be convicted." Now we've moved on, within less than 2 hours of the first US President ever to be convicted of ONE felony, let alone THIRTY-FOUR, "he'll never be sentenced or face a real consequence or lose the election." The goalposts keep moving RIGHT along without even a single pause to acknowledge the difficulty and the value of the progress we have made thus far, and it makes me CRAZY.

Do you people realize how fucking rare it is, both in the world today and historically, for a former (and would-be future) head of state to be held to criminal account by a jury of 12 anonymous ordinary citizens? When that one person, Trump, is the center of the malignant fascist cancer that has spread through this country ever since 2016, and plenty of his cultists are still insisting that it's Trump or nobody for them? When we've actually reached the stage of holding him legally accountable for (some of) his crimes for the first time in his miserable misbegotten life? I suspect that most of you are so deep in the "America is totally broken and the system is useless and we can only Revolute!!!1" rabbit hole that you're bound and determined to argue away every step we take, however slow, as Meaning Nothing TM. Voting? Fake. Fighting to make real progress? Also fake. Everything is fake except our belief that everything is broken and we need the Keyboard Warrior Glorious Revolution!!! As long as you can keep inventing ever more contorted twists of logic to ignore everything else that's happened so far, this makes sense... or something. I guess?

Now we're onto "removing Trump won't matter :(" when a whole lot of people have been fighting day and fucking night to get all the privileged-princess Online Leftists to get off their Che Guevara cosplaying asses and cast a single fucking vote to keep us from full-on-sliding into fascism. A slide into fascism that, again, has been spearheaded and centered around Trump's toxic cult of personality and which is still tied to him in almost every way. Apparently holding him to account (again, which has never happened to him in his life) already doesn't matter because wah wah he won't suffer any consequences. If he loses this election he's probably going to jail for the rest of his life! We would have electorally defeated the greatest threat to the American democratic experiment in 250 years, and frankly a huge part of the fascist far-right hydra that is currently attempting a comeback around the world! This is, yet again:

THE FIRST TIME ANY AMERICAN PRESIDENT, EVER, HAS BEEN CONVICTED OF MULTIPLE FELONY CHARGES IN A COURT OF LAW BY A JURY OF HIS PEERS

and yet we're still hearing that nothing matters and no work has been done and removing him will have no effect???

Come on. Come on. I know it's tiring and it's slow and it doesn't go as fast as we want. But every single damn time the process goes another step, here you people are in my inbox insisting that we're still at zero progress and it means nothing, and lemme tell you, I am Tired of it. Come on. You don't have to jump up and down (my own feeling is glee and vindication but still not relaxation, I will not relax until he loses the fucking election and goes to jail), but you also don't need to keep myopically pretending that all the effort thus far by so many people means nothing. Come on.

[wileys-russo]

before the void (fresa's version 2.0) II a.putellas

before the void one two II filling the void one two three four five six you can all say thanks to @girlgenius1111 for filling my head with this idea xx

before the void (fresa's version 2.0) II a.putellas

though you were incredibly outspoken now and for the most part a rather fearless teenager, there was once a time that the thought of public speaking made your stomach churn.

you remember where it all started, when you were just six years old.

you'd been given a task in class to write a short fictional story, and even at that young of an age your work was admirable, to the point your teacher after reading it had kept you back in class.

a very flustered eli had sought you out once she'd been informed of your whereabouts by the front office after being unable to find you during pick up.

rushing toward your classroom panic coursed through her at what might have happened for you to be held after class, memories of things your sisters had done over the years to get in trouble never leaving her mind.

though it was sheer relief and overwhelming pride that replaced it shortly after she'd joined you and been asked to read your story.

your teacher then informed that she'd like you to read it aloud at the upcoming end of year performance for the school at the end of the week, and without so much as a look in your direction your mami agreed.

now you were already set to perform, the kindergarten classes all teaming up for an adorable christmas themed group dance number. and initially you hadn't been worried about that, you were with your friends and everything in rehearsals had been kept very light and fun.

you didn't quite understand what your teacher meant when she explained before eli arrived what she wanted you to do, instead just blushing red in embarrassment with the praise about your story, immediately seeking out comfort in your mami's arms once she arrived.

it wasn't until you returned home and it was explained to you properly that you really understood what had been agreed for you to do.

you'd been told time and time again all afternoon by both your sisters and your mami how proud everyone was, your story passed around and read over and over, but the bomb about you performing eli had waited until dinner to drop.

"like all by herself, her own special moment? fres! that is so cool hermana." alba grinned as you frowned, confused by what she meant. "hey what did we say about pulling ugly faces nena." alexia teased, reaching over to smooth out your eyebrows as you pushed her hand away.

"by myself?" you questioned, frowning again and directing the question toward eli who nodded. "sí hija, you will stand up on the stage in front of everyone and read your story!" eli beamed happily but your frown only deepened.

"lots of people?" you questioned again but it was missed as your family all started to plan who they would invite, alexia already having planned on bringing jenni and now eli readying to extend the invitation to almost your whole family.

"do i have to?" you spoke up again, this time not ignored but rather shrinking a little under the three sets of eyes that turned to you, dropping your own gaze to your plate of food, pushing it around rather than eating it.

"sí. you made a commitment to your teacher fresa, but this will be exciting! like alba said, a very special moment all about you." eli smiled, brushing a loose strand of hair out of your face as you nodded.

"you're done?" alexia asked in shock as you pushed your plate away, food barely touched despite your normal seemingly endless appetite, a running joke in the family you had a worm in your stomach which ate all your food.

"no! i trained all day, i get it. you didn't do anything alba you don't even walk to school!" your sisters immediately began to argue over your leftovers as eli tried to play peacemaker before it turned physical.

in any other instance your silence might be noted as odd. you were a boisterous kid by nature, with two outspoken older sisters to compete with for attention you knew how to stand up for yourself and assert yourself despite your age.

but you were caught up in how strange you suddenly felt.

your stomach was twisted up like a knotted rope, your hands a little wet and clammy, chest felt all tight like when you got the flu and couldn't stop coughing, the back of your neck felt very itchy and strange, and suddenly your clothes didn't feel like they fit you properly as you fidgeted and tugged at them in your seat.

"hey!" you were snapped out of it by a hand tugging at your hair, glaring up at alexia who stood beside your chair.

"i'm on dishes which means you're helping me dry hermanita, or else i'll have to drown you in the sink!" your nerves disappeared as suddenly you were hanging upside down over her shoulder, giggles filling the air and your performance now pushed to the back of your mind where it belonged.

but it all surfaced once again the next day at school when instead of returning to class with your friends after dance class you had to stay back to practice reading your story.

"now see all these chairs fresa? on friday night they will be filled with people! your mami reserved a lot of tickets so your whole family must be coming to cheer you on, i am sure they are very very proud of you." your teacher smiled kindly, squatted down beside you as you stood up on stage.

there wasn't more than a hundred chairs, after all you didn't go to a huge school, most of the grades only had about thirty to forty kids. but to you it may as well have been a million chairs, and suddenly the room felt both huge and tiny at the same time.

"no." was all you managed out, that weird feeling from last night returning as you gripped your story in your hands. "no? why would they not be proud!" your teacher laughed, misunderstanding as she stood.

"now when you read fresa we have to make sure we speak loudly and clearly and-" your teacher started as you shook your head furiously. "no!" you repeated, scrunching your story up and dropping it to the ground, running off the stage.

you were held back again after that outburst, assured softly by your teacher that if you were too nervous she wouldn't make you read your story, leaving the decision up to you.

nervous, a new word and a new feeling.

but though it seemed the decision was up to you, and your teacher might have said that, alexia thought otherwise.

it was her turn to pick you up from school that day, already running late having left training to collect you before returning as she always did on wednesdays. so to have to be held up again by coming to meet your teacher she was flustered on arrival.

"fres? vamos nena you're coming to training with me." the older girl appeared in the doorway, nearly knocked off her feet with the force in which you hurtled yourself into her legs, a grunt leaving her mouth as she grabbed the doorframe and steadied herself.

"hey hey hermana what has happened? why are you upset huh?" her demeanor instantly shifted, squatting down and hugging you properly as she caught the eye of your teacher who gave an empathetic smile.

"fresa is a little nervous about reading her story on friday." the older woman explained as alexia stood, a hand on your head as your body sagged into hers with a sigh too deep for someone only six years of age, but that was missed by your sister.

"nervous? by friday she will be fine, we will help her practice at home." alexia assured confidently, your teacher frowning a little. "if she does not want to do it she-" the woman started as alexia cut her off with a wave, moving your hair out of your face.

"she will be fine, gracias. now if that is all?" alexia raised an eyebrow as your teacher stammered for a moment before nodding, taken aback by the abrupt confidence of the ninteen year old in front of her who smiled and thanked her again before guiding you away.

"what was all that about, you are nervous?" alexia asked after you were securely buckled into your seat and she was back behind the drivers wheel, catching your eye for a moment in the rear view mirror as you shrugged, not really knowing what that meant.

"standing up there, i felt weird." you struggled to answer your sister who hummed. "nerves are normal pequeña, they are healthy. it means that you care, that you are excited!" alexia smiled in an attempt to reassure you, something which did nothing to move the frown from your feature.

"i don't want to read my story." you answered firmly, crossing your arms with a huff. "well you will be reading it hermana, you made a commitment. putellas women do not go back on our commitments!" alexia reminded, catching your eye again as she stopped at a red light, almost to the training facility.

"no." "sí." "no." "sí." "no! i'm not doing it, my teacher said i didn't have to." you raised your voice right as alexia pulled into her parking spot, turning around properly now the car was shut off.

"fresa. mami has invited the family, jenni is coming, alba and i will be there, and everyone is very excited and very proud. do you want to let them down? make them sad that they do not get to hear your story?" alexia questioned raising an eyebrow, not understanding what was even making you nervous, you didn't get nervous.

"no." you mumbled, dropping your gaze and kicking your feet out, that strange feeling having been bugging you ever since rehearsal as you pulled at the collar of your shirt.

the door beside you opened, alexia unbuckling you and grabbing your school bag as you slipped out of the car. "hey, stop that." your sister knelt down, tugging your hands away from where you fidgeted and pulled at your clothes.

"do i really have to read it out in front of everybody?" you asked, hitting alexia with your best puppy dog eyes making her chuckle. "sí, but we will all be there to support you. vale?" your sister smiled in satisfaction as you nodded, taking her hand and following after her into the building.

normally you were beyond excited whenever you accompanied her to training, sprinting off to greet all the staff and warned time and time again by your sister not to run ahead where she couldn't see you.

but today there was none of that, you clung tightly to alexia and barely gave the staff a smile as everyone said their hello's and the pair of you headed for the locker room.

your sister hoped changing you out of your school clothes and into something you could run around in might perk you up but it didn't work, and as each of her teammates tried to greet you again you barely acknowledged anyone.

alexia just chalked it up to you being tired knowing majority of today you'd been in dance rehearsals, a letter of warning having been sent home earlier in the week that the end of year concert meant less actual scholastic work would be done in the days leading up to it, eli needing to sign her permission for you to engage with this.

and though your sister might not have picked up on your strange mood being a little more than that, someone did.

"hola chiqui." jenni knelt down in front of you where you sat by alexia's cubby, knees tucked to your chest. "hi." you mumbled quietly, sending her the tiniest of smiles as your sisters girlfriend frowned at the out of character behaviour.

"hey your sister told me about your story! thats very exciting." jenni tried with a big grin, poking at you as you only shrugged. "are you coming to see?" you asked, shuffling around and pulling uncomfortably at your top, wiping your hands on your knees.

"of course pequeña!" jenni beamed proudly, but that faded seeing the look on your face at her answer. "do you not want me to come?" jenni asked softly, moving to take a seat beside you.

"i don't want anyone to come." you muttered, glaring at the ground, alexia catching jenni's eye and sending a curious look which the tattooed footballer waved off, hanging back with you for a moment as the rest of the girls filed out for the afternoon session.

"vale. it is just you and me now fresa, why are you upset?" jenni tugged you to sit on her knee, tensing up for a second as you didn't hesitate to bury your face in her shoulder, gripping tightly to her jersey.

"hey hey hey, whats wrong fresita? do you want me to get alexia?" jenni asked worriedly feeling your small body start to tremble as she hugged you tightly, knowing that was always the best way to soothe you. she was even more surprised at the way your head shook firmly side to side at the mention of your sister.

"i don't want to do it!" you pulled your head away and looked up at her pleadingly, the older girl wiping the stray tears from the corner of your eye as she melted. "don't want to do what? hey fresa, in and out por favor." jenni reminded soothingly as you started to hyperventilate a little, copying her breathing as your body calmed a little.

"now, using your words pequeña. why are you upset?" jenni asked softly, lifting your chin up as your head flopped to look at the ground. "i don't want to read my story." you spoke clearer this time, though not offering any explanation even when jenni gently prompted you for one.

"everyone says i have to, but i don't want to. i can't jenni!" you started to become upset again as jenni quickly stood, holding you on her hip like when you were younger, making her way slowly out of the change rooms hoping some sun might help your mood.

"vale. how about i talk to your sister about your story, and you go sit with andre to help him like you always do. sí?" jenni placed you back down, nodding to one of the assistant defensive coaches who was waiting for you, knowing you came with alexia every wednesday and always finding little things for you to do to help pass the time.

"hey! not so fast." jenni grabbed the back of your shirt as you went to race off. "i did not get a proper hello." your sisters girlfriend pretended to be offended, softening as finally a smile returned to your face and you launched at her in a hug.

"fresa hugs are the best hugs, gracias." jenni sighed, shaking you for a moment and rewarded with a small giggle for her efforts. "ah! beso?" she tapped her cheek as you tried to run off again, amused at the way your eyes rolled and you quickly kissed her cheek.

"no eye rolling! more and more like alexia every single day." jenni groaned playfully, rolling her own eyes as you gasped. "you just did it!" you accused, pushing her shoulder.

"i am allowed to, vamos baby putellas. go help andre!" jenni pushed you back by the forehead, dodging the way your tiny arm swung at her with a huff. "i am six now jenni, i am not a baby." you warned before marching off to andre.

"yeah jenni, she is six now!" the girl turned around at the familiar voice, standing up and pushing at her girlfriend who grinned. "you are a bad influence on her amor, so much atttiude in such a small body." jenni tutted as the two of them wandered back to the team.

"don't look at me, that attitude is pure alba!" alexia laughed in defense as jenni rolled her eyes and hummed. "hey-" the tattooed forward stopped for a moment. "about the story, she really does not want to do it ale." jenni warned quietly, surprised at the way your sister seemed to brush it off.

"sí, she is a little nervous. thats normal! healthy, we will help her be ready." alexia shrugged as jenni shook her off. "no, alexia. she was really upset, i have not seen-" jenni was cut off by the blow of the whistle, alexia jogging off toward the rest of the team before her girlfriend followed after her with a sigh.

by the end of training your mood was back to normal, the strange feeling from earlier going away again as you were kept too busy to even give your story a thought.

but after dinner that night, everything changed.

you'd finished getting ready for bed changed into warm pyjamas from the dryer with your bear in hand, knowing you had another half hour until you really had to go to bed and intending to con one of your sisters into letting you control the tv until then.

but you were stumped to see that on your return to the living room it was changed dramatically.

the entire room had been rearranged, the dining room chairs moved to be stacked in rows and one right at the head of them, the couches pushed to the side.

"alexia are you really sure this is-" alba asked again with a concerned frown, jenni having messaged her about your odd behaviour since it didn't seem your eldest sister was taking it seriously.

"hermana!" alexia cheered seeing you, hurrying over as alba sighed but plastered a smile on her face. "why are the chairs here?" you asked with a frown, alexia handing you your story as suddenly the strange feeling returned.

"well since you are nervous pequeña, we are going to practice so you are not nervous!" alexia answered, grabbing under your arms and carrying you over to the chair at the front and standing you up on it. "red." you frowned as your sister took her from your grip.

"you can't have it on stage with you nena, this is supposed to be like the real thing." alexia explained as you deflated a little but nodded.

"pretend we are at your concert. i will be sat here, alba there, and jenni and mami and all the family will be sat watching you, and all your friends families too!" alexia smiled in a way that was supposed to be reassuring but it just made you feel worse.

"but hermana if-" alba started, noticing right away that you'd suddenly gone a shade more pale and seemed to be fidgeting in a way that wasn't normal, tugging at your clothes and rubbing your free hand against your leg.

"alba." alexia cut her off with a warning glare, the two having been bickering back and forth since the topic was raised, disagreeing on how to go about dealing with it, eli out for dinner with some work friends.

"now. remember what your teacher said fres, speak loud and clear so everyone can hear! because there will be lots of people all the way to the back of the hall and we want all of them to hear you." alexia waved for you to start reading as she and alba settled into their chairs, several of your toys filling the other ones which was alba's doing in her own attempt to try and calm you.

you nodded and swallowed hard, holding up your story and all but burying your face in it, mumbling along. "no no no, not like that." alexia shook her head and stood as alba sighed and dragged a hand down her face.

"when you read for people you have to look at them, so they know you are speaking to them." alexia took your story and stood beside you.

"you read a sentence, remember it, and then look up and say it. then you look at the page again, read it, remember it, look up and say it. vale?" alexia explained as you nodded slowly and she handed you your story back.

"you are overwhelming her, she's six alexia!" alba hissed quietly, dismissed with a wave as alexia sat back down. "go fresa. nice and loud!" your sister encouraged, your knees shaking slightly as your face felt hot and you shifted.

just like before the strange feeling returned as you felt your sisters eyes pierce into you, imagining what it would be like with hundreds more as you stammered through the first few words of your story.

"eyes up fresa! remember, read and look up. read and look up!" alexia coached, not meaning to come off as strict as she did but not realising she was only making you feel worse.

"speak clearly fresa!" "remember, you want everyone to hear." "no hermana, look up more!" "we will all be here watching you, supporting you." "you don't want anyone to be disappointed, no?"

her words echoed around your head until they were all you could hear and the strange feelings intensified. your stomach was twisted and churning, hands wet and clammy, chest all tight like you couldn't breathe properly, back of your neck itchy, and your clothes didn't feel like they fit you properly.

then, then came the nausea, followed by the contents of your stomach all over the floor.

"fresa!" alexia hadn't meant to shout, she really hadn't. but she was shocked at what had just happened and thinking she was mad at you you took off, dropping your story and sprinting away.

"nice alexia." alba snapped, standing up and shoving at the older girls shoulders before sprinting off after you.

with another bath and a new set of pyjamas, both of your sisters put aside their argument to promise you weren't in any trouble and tuck you into bed, alexia quite sure you'd only end up in hers later on anyway.

but the bickering resumed the moment you were asleep and your door clicked shut, eli returning home and frowning at the sound of the hushed argument, the vomit cleaned up and living room put back to how it normally was.

"hey!" your mami's voice was firm and commanding as she placed her bag down, both of your sisters falling silent and looking over guiltily, eli raising her eyebrow silently asking for an explanation.

"fresa cannot read her story." "fresa is a little nervous."

both girls glared at one another at the conflicting sentences, at eli's request taking turns to give their sides of the story about tonight.

"she was sick?" eli frowned, sat at the table now with a concerned frown. "sí. it is more than nerves mami, she is terrified!" alba stuck up for you as alexia made a dismissive noise.

"she probably ate her dinner too fast, you know how she gets. she will be fine mami! she just needs to practice." alexia spoke, shooting her younger sister a dirty look who rolled her eyes, both girls awaiting eli's verdict.

"vale, i will speak with your hermanita tomorrow."

but tomorrow, things got even worse.

your nerves now taking over entirely you'd refused to even participate in the dance you'd spent weeks learning, faking a stomach ache and being sent to the nurses office, but your teacher saw right through you.

"hola mi hija." you looked up from the bed you were sat on in the nurses office, a sick bag and a bottle of water untouched beside you, your feet hitting the floor and your body ramming into eli's legs as she sighed.

she'd already spoken with your teacher who'd called, raising concerns for your odd behavior and just like she had with alexia promising there was no pressure for you to read your story, or participate in the dance if that was too much.

eli promised to speak with you tonight about everything, and that was still her intention but she knew you'd be more comfortable having the conversation not at school.

so pulled out early you headed home, uncharacteristically silent in the back seat the entire way there, your mami not pushing you to say more than the few words it seemed you were able to.

"hija. your teacher told me you do not want to read your story, can you tell me why?" eli asked softly, having made you a snack and allowed you some time to settle down before she raised the topic again, not missing the way you immediately began to fidget.

but all she got was a shrug, and not for any malicious reason, you really weren't sure why you were feeling this way about reading the story, and so you weren't able to actually verbalize it.

"vale. well, if you do not want to fresa, you do not have to." eli promised as you looked up with wide eyes. "really?" you questioned as your mami nodded. "no. it would be good if you could try, but if you cannot, then that is okay too." eli assured as you frowned and nodded, the older woman dropping the topic for now and leaving you in front of the tv.

you seemed back to your normal self by the evening, racing around playing a game entertaining yourself as alba was locked away studying for something and alexia was yet to return home from training, dinner almost ready.

"fresa!" alexia groaned as she'd barely stepped foot inside before you were zooming through her legs, almost taking her down to the ground as alba snickered in amusement helping eli to set the table.

"it is a new game she made up, be nice." eli warned, alexia rolling her eyes as alba stood and you raced through her legs too, counting along with the points system nobody but you understood.

having showered at training your eldest sister dumped her things in her room, returning to the table right as dinner was served, all four of you chattering away as usual and you again seemed back to your normal self.

but again, everything changed after dinner.

once more alexia had told you to practice, alba had voiced her argument and eli had silenced both of them. handing you your story and curious to see if you displayed the same behaviors alba had reported the night before and alexia had dismissed.

"remember fresa. read, look up, speak. loud and clear, vale?" alexia coached, ignoring the way alba's eyes bore daggers into the side of her head, the room at least not set up like it was last night but still you were stood on a chair in front of the three of them.

just like last night and every time before, the strange feelings burst forth from where they'd been laid in hiding, biding their time and waiting for the right time to resurface.

your stomach twisted and churning, hands wet and clammy, chest all tight like you couldn't breathe properly, back of your neck itchy, and clothes didn't feel like they fit you properly, your spare hand tugging and pulling as you shifted on your feet.

"vamos fresa." alexia clicked, eli sat between both her daughters really the only barrier to alba knocking some sense into her older sister, grateful for eli nudging her eldest and subtly shaking her head.

"i can't." you shook your head after opening and closing your mouth a few times, trying to read but the words wouldn't come out, stuck in the back of your throat.

"you can." alexia argued, waving for you to. "no." you shook your head, knees trembling as alba frowned. "go fresa. read, you are fine!" alexia spoke a little more sternly, much like her coaches would to her on the pitch, misreading the situation all together.

"alexia." eli warned quietly, but it fell on deaf ears. "mami said i didn't have to, miss luisa said i didn't have to. i'm not reading it!" your own tone of voice raised, nerves bubbling over into frustration as to why your sister wouldn't listen to you.

"you are being silly fresa. read it!" alexia ordered, her own patience running thin. "no!" you yelled now, spare hand balling into a fist. "alexia-" eli began again but your sister was already up to her feet.

"you made a commitment, putellas women do not give up on commitments. you will read your story here, and you will read your story tomorrow. you are fine fresa, so read it, now!" alexia warned, and then it all bubbled over and you snapped.

"i hate you!" you screamed, ripping up the piece of paper with your story on it in half, jumping down from the chair and sprinting off to your room, throwing your door closed as hard as you should as it slammed shut.

a string of angry spanish curses filled the room as alba lunged at alexia, the two bickering quickly and aggresively, shoving one another around before eli yelled for them to stop and pushed her way in the middle.

"you are so selfish and stupid and stubborn and-" alba started, becoming too frustrated to even get her words out. "as much as you think she is alexia she is not just like you. she is normal! she gets nervous! but that, that is more than nervous-" alba growled, yelling now over eli's head who was still attempting to diffuse things.

"she is terrified and you just push and you push and you push, and you made it worse! imbécil testarudo." alba spat, wrenching her arm away and storming off after you, alexia scoffing at the dramatics with a roll of her eyes.

"sit." eli ordered sternly, the taller brunette giving her a look which quickly withered away at the one she got in return, sitting down in defeat as alba knocked at your door.

"hola hermanita, it is just me. can i come in?" alba called out softly, taking your silence as a yes as she pushed open the door. but she frowned closing it again and unable to see you anywhere, calling out your name.

finally, a noise in your wardrobe which was firmly shut.

"are you going to come out hermana?" alba asked gently, taking a seat by the wardrobe door, hearing a faint no echo out from inside. "vale, we will just talk like this then." your sister promised, nothing sounding in return.

"or i can talk, and you just knock on the door. two for yes, three for no." two knocks sounded making alba smile and tuck her knees up to her chest.

"do you want to read your story tomorrow pequeña?" three knocks sounded. "it makes you feel...bad to read your story in front of people?" two knocks. "you think you will let everyone down, make them sad, if you do not read your story?" two knocks again. "but you really don't want to read it?" three knocks one more time.

"okay, then you will not have to read it hermanita. i promise i will speak to mami, and to alexia." a slight creak sounded, the door opening just a sliver.

"can you come out? i need a fresa hug." alba cooed encouragingly, knocking on the door but not making a move to open it herself not wanting to push you.

"i can't." "why not?" "i'm stuck."

"stuck? is the door jammed?" alba frowned, reaching over and pushing it a little as it easily slid, a small hand sneaking out and slapping hers away from inside.

"promise me...no laughing!" you warned, voice muffled as alba frowned and agreed. but as the door opened properly and you emerged, a hand had to be slapped over her mouth to stop the sixteeen year old collapsing into laughter.

"oh fresita..." alba trailed off clearly amused as you sat in your wardrobe, head stuffed into one of your papi's old motorcycle helmets, arms crossed against your chest.

"ven aquí idiota." alba chuckled, offering you her hand which you took and allowed her to pull you from the wardrobe, now stood in front of her. "where did you even find this nena?" alba asked with a smile, fiddling with the clasp which was indeed stuck.

"garage. helps me think!" you huffed, stomping your foot impatiently as finally with a few little wiggles your sister pulled the clasp free, carefully tugging the helmet off and placing it down on your floor.

"there, much better." alba smiled, opening her arms as you collapsed into them, body sagging into hers and a very deep sigh exhaled into her shoulder as she rubbed your back.

"promise i don't have to read my story?" you mumbled, arms locked around her neck. "pinky promise." your sister poked you gently, holding up her hand as you locked your pinky with hers, each kissing the others hand.

you both sat in silence for a little while, your sister playing with your hair and rubbing your back feeling the tension in your body slowly dissapate.

"hey fres?" finally she spoke, your head pulled away as now you both sat cross legged on your floor facing each other. "when you have to read, does your stomach feel a little funny?" you nodded at that.

"your face gets a little hot?" nodding again. "your clothes don't feel right? a little itchy? tight?" nodding again.

"and my hands get all wet!" you piped up, alba now nodding in understanding. "guess what?" she questioned as you looked on cluelessly. "i feel like that too, when i have to take a test at school." your sister revealed honestly, pulling a face and successfully getting a smile from you.

"really?" "really."

"you know what helps me?" alba asked as you shook your head. "hand out." your sister motioned as you frowned but did as she asked, eyes widening at the small woven bracelet she slipped onto your wrist, tying it up so it sat loosely but not enough to move much up and down your arm.

"whenever i feel like that, i play with one of my bracelets, and it helps me feel better!" your sister promised, holding out her own hand where several other bracelets sat.

"so you don't have to read your story hermanita, i promise. but if you ever feel like that, you can always talk to me about it, or you can play with my bracelet and think of something happy. take your mind off whatever is making you feel icky, like reading the story." again you nodded, a proper smile on your face now as you launched at the older girl in a hug.

catching eli's eye who was hovering in the doorway alba gave a small thumbs up, the older woman nodding in understanding and leaving the two of you to it.

a knock sounded shortly after, though as alba looked up this time her eyes narrowed as alexia shifted from foot to foot in the doorway. "fresa?" she called out hopefully, your head peering around to look at her.

"can we talk please?" alexia asked softly, a hopeful look in her eyes as you stood and began to make your way over. "no." you answered firmly, pushing at her legs until she was out of the doorway, slamming it shut again as your eldest sisters eyes widened in shock.

"alexia." her name sounded as her hand was on the doorknob, ready to push it open and try again, looking over her shoulder as eli sent her a look.

"try again tomorrow hija, give her a little space."

but as friday rolled around, your attitude toward her only worsened.

of a morning alexia was always the one who helped you get ready for school. she would help you pack your bag, check you had everything, do your hair for you, help you pick what to wear and sit with you at breakfast normally coloring something in together.

but this morning, you wanted nothing to do with her.

eli packed your bag, alba did your hair and helped you get ready, you sat with alba at breakfast and anytime alexia tried to speak to you all she got was a frown and your body turned the other way, each action like a punch to the gut.

she watched on helplessly as you hugged and kissed alba goodbye, ignoring her once again before you raced out the door, eli sending her eldest a sympathetic look before following after you to the car.

alba also opted for the silent treatment with alexia before she left for school herself, not having been given any sort of apology from her sister she wasn't going to be the one to extend the olive branch given she was right.

that day at school for you was the same as the last, you refused to participate in rehearsals, sitting out to the side by yourself and watching your friends all giggle and run around.

a note in your pocket from your mami handed to your teacher earlier that morning explaining you wouldn't be able to read, your teacher promising she understood and giving you a few small tasks to try and keep you engaged throughout the day.

when you returned home that afternoon it took a little convincing but you agreed to still attend the concert, eli gently explaining it wasn't kind not to go and watch your friends which you'd agreed with, grateful that only your sisters, jenni and mami were coming, the rest of your family coming over for a barbecue on sunday instead after alexias game.

alba taking you to go and wish your friends good luck alexia purposefully kept the seat between her and jenni free, hopeful that you might choose to sit there even if it was just to be closer to jenni and not her.

but when you returned you blanked her entirely, opting to sit wedged in the same seat as alba, jenni rubbing her girlfriends back in comfort as the lights dimmed and she deflated, at a loss for how to make things up to you for once.

for alexia this was uncharted territory. she had always been your favourite, she was always the one you sought out for comfort, she was who you'd sit with anytime you could, she was who you went to when you had a problem.

but now, just trying her best in her own to help you overcome something she didn't want plaguing you for years to come, she'd gone about everything all wrong and the barcelona midfielder was miserable at the results.

after the concert things only got worse. it was late, you were tired, and you were even more clingy than normal.

normally when in these overstimulated moods you'd find yourself spending the night in alexia's bed, curled up with your sister who would trace shapes on your back until you fell asleep and braid your hair so that it would be all wavy in the morning when she took it out.

and that was the comfort you sought out, but with alba, and not with alexia.

the entire weekend in fact you avoided her like she had a disease, out of the house most of saturday at a birthday party removed any chance of alexia trying to fix things, and then not even going to her game on sunday given you'd spent the night at your abuela and abuelo's.

finally, sunday afternoon rolled around and coming off of a 7-0 win alexia was in an invigorated mood to make things better with you, your entire family gathering together meaning you were in the best mood you'd been in all week.

so much so, alba was surprised when you'd tugged at her pants, pulling her out of conversation with one of your cousins.

"i want to read my story." you announced when it was just the two of you alone in your room, alba all but dragged there the moment she'd excused herself. "really?" your sister asked in surprise, taking a seat beside you on your bed.

"sí, i have your magic bracelet to help me now. but will you help me?" you asked hopefully, a small smile coming across the older girls face as you fidgeted with her bracelet on your wrist. "of course pequeña. what do you need me to do?" alba asked gently as you jumped down from your bed.

"fix this." you held up the two halves of paper containing your story with a frown, alba hesitating for a moment as things ticked over in her head. "mm i am not very good at fixing stories fresa. but you know who is?" you shook your head, lowering the two halves with a sigh.

"alexia." alba promised, not missing the conflicted look which crossed your features. "ven aquí." the girl lifted you back up and onto your bed. "i know ale upset you. but she is very very sorry, and i know she misses you." alba continued softly as you shook your head.

"no she doesn't, she's mad at me." you sighed again, pulling at the bracelet and refusing to look up. "mad at you? why would she be mad at you hermana?" alba asked confused as to where this was coming from.

"i didn't do my commitment." you mumbled as alba exhaled, suddenly now putting the pieces together now of why you'd been avoiding your eldest sister like the plague.

"hey, fresa look at me." you did as she asked. "alexia would never ever be mad at you for that. she loves you very very much, maybe even more than me." alba added on teasingly, poking your side as you gave a little giggle and pushed away her hand.

"really?" "prometo. so why don't you go and ask her to fix your story, and then both of us can stand with you while you read it to everyone. would that help?" alba asked gently as you nodded.

"vamos!" alba motioned to the door, chuckling as you took off right away, zooming through and around the family members littering the house, avoiding every cheek pinch and hair ruffle you could.

alexia was sat with a few of your tio's discussing the match, jenni's own parents in town meant she wasn't there to indulge her pity party so she'd opted for the other thing which always made her feel better, talking about football.

but all of that came to a screaming halt as suddenly you appeared, tapping her knee and holding up the two halves of paper. "can you fix this for me please?" you asked hopefully, alexia catching alba's eye across the yard who sent her a nod.

"of course." alexia promised taking the paper off of you, standing and cautiously offering you her hand, almost melting in relief when finally you accepted, pulling her into the house.

a few pieces of tape and a ruler later and the story was whole enough for you to read again, alba quickly texting alexia the contents of your conversation so she knew the real reason you'd seemed so upset with her.

sat up on the desk in your sisters room as she'd worked you thanked her as she handed you the now mended story, alexia taking a seat in the chair by your feet.

"fresa." she'd called for your attention as your eyes scanned over your story, mumbling under your breath. "i am very proud of you." the older girl started softly as you frowned, confused. "why?"

"well, because even though it took me a little longer to see it, you expressed your feelings and your needs and you stood up for what was best for you." alexia started, absentmindedly drumming her fingers against your shoes.

"nena i am very very sorry that i did not listen to you. sometimes i think that i am always right, and that i know what is best for everyone, but you knew what was best for you. you told us that, and that makes me very very proud of you fresa." your sister promised, grunting as suddenly you swung yourself off the desk and into her lap, arms wrapping around her neck.

"i missed your hugs, fresa hugs are the best hugs." your sister mumbled affectionately, kissing the top of your head and squeezing you tightly.

"sorry i said i hate you. i promise i don't hate you, and i am proud of you!" alexia couldn't help but grin as your small hands fell to her cheeks and you frowned up at her as seriously as you could muster.

"gracias pequeña. i love you very very much!" alexia promised, her own hands falling to your cheeks and smooshing them together as you whined and pushed them away.

"more than alba?" you asked, a cheeky grin on your face as alexia shook her head with an amusement smile. "maybe. but don't you tell her that diablillo!" alexia warned, pinching your cheeks again and helping you down.

"its okay...she already knows!"

[withleeknow]

whiskers.

pairing: minho x reader genre/warnings: established relationship, fluff; reader has whisker dimples bc this is self-indulgent as hell, written in one sitting and v unedited lol it is once again 2am and i am half asleep. the fake cut mimo has on his cheek in the pics is kind of exactly where my whiskers are lmfao word count: 0.6k

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

navigation / masterlist / ko-fi

"whiskers," minho says, pulling your gaze away from the laptop in front of you.

you roll your eyes half-heartedly, though you do put the device to the side to give minho your undivided attention. he's looking at you expectantly but patiently, like he's just asking you to give him a little love.

this isn't something that you've always liked about yourself, your whisker dimples as the internet has so lovingly deemed them these days. they would come out when you smile, or when your face twists into an unpleasant scowl. as a kid, people often found it odd how you had dimples so high up in your cheeks when others had them around their smile lines. you always felt a little different, a little weird whenever someone pointed this out even if it was only in harmless fun.

when minho first became aware of it, he was absolutely fascinated. he'd made you laugh so hard that you couldn't contain the bright grin that spread across your face as complete and utter joy took over you. you were clutching his arm, giggling at the story he was telling you when the dimples showed themselves, the cute indentations settling on top of your cheeks as if they were the physical manifestation of the happiness you felt inside.

you remember what minho did. he had cupped your face gently in his hands, then traced the soft lines with his fingers as he marveled at you. "you look like a cat," he had said, and you didn't really know what to make of it. it was so early in your relationship that you weren't sure if he was complimenting you or making fun of you like the others had.

but then the stars in his eyes twinkled a little brighter, the delighted quirk of his lips expressing his wonder better than words could. he had kissed you right there, softer and sweeter than he ever did in the short time that you had known each other back then, and you quickly learned that oh, maybe this little detail about yourself that you were embarrassed of your whole life was a good thing after all.

you still don't know the reason minho likes them so much. to you, they've always been something to ignore as best as you can, something to not draw attention to because you don't want people to highlight that maybe you're a little different from everybody else.

even as you sit here, years later with the love of your life who's got a very particular request for you, you're still not entirely sure why he's obsessed with your odd dimples enough to want to see them almost every day. it's a mystery to you and yet, it makes you feel all warm and bubbly inside whenever he sends this simple demand your way.

you adhere to his request nonetheless. when the dimples appear, you watch as a smile blooms on his face, growing bigger and bigger until it makes his eyes crinkle. like an instant boost of serotonin, you think.

minho traces them with gentle fingers, gazing at you in awe as if it's the first time he's seeing you like this. when he leans closer, you can't help but meet him halfway until his lips are tentatively brushing your cheeks. you can't help your own smile either, when it deepens and only accentuates the small moon-shaped dents which he kisses. five times on each side, and then he's peppering kisses all over your face while you laugh and accept the sudden burst of love.

sometimes he calls them whiskers, sometimes he calls them moons.

all rights reserved © withleeknow. reposting, translating and/or modifying is not permitted by any means. [posted 31.05.2024]

[buckybabesonly]

as long as we're together (does it matter where we go?)

Summary: You don't want to be a burden to Bucky, knowing he has the weight of the world on his shoulders.

Pairing: Bucky x Female!OC

Genre: Angst

Length: 7.8k

Two years ago

“I don’t think I want to be with you anymore.”

Bucky had expected it. Weeks of you being distant, making secret phone calls, avoiding his touches like they physically hurt you. Countless times Bucky had asked, what's wrong?, only for you to shut him down and say that everything was fine. Bucky was sick of hearing that empty, meaningless mantra, but it didn’t mean that he reveled in your confession now.

Even though it didn't come as a surprise, it still felt like a punch to the gut. It physically winded him to hear those words leave your lips.

He wondered what he did wrong. He wondered where they went wrong. They were so in love, so wonderfully content in each other's company. You were his person. Steve had once told Bucky that he would find someone unexpectedly, when Bucky made an off-hand comment about how lucky he was to have met Peggy.

“You’ll find your Peggy.”

Things had been perfect. Or maybe Bucky had just been in denial, ignoring all the problems between you because he thought that his feelings for you triumphed over everything, no matter what hardships you may have been suffering from. How could he ever face the reality that you might actually leave in pursuit of something better?

Now, Bucky’s chest was tight with an indescribable feeling, both of you stood in your shared apartment. Your belongings stuffed into a black suitcase, Bucky’s heart in pieces on the hardwood floor.

He had expected it, but it didn't stop him from wanting to die.

"Why?" It was all he could ask. He wanted to know the reason, wanted to understand. Wanted to know if he could fix it. He was desperate to make you stay.

Bucky stared at your face. You looked so...indifferent. Unattached, in contrast to the woman he had met all those years ago. Where had the softness in your eyes gone? Why couldn’t you meet his pleading gaze, even now? At what point did your feelings for him start to fade, and was there anything he could have done to salvage it?

Your face was a blank slate, emotionless, and it made Bucky feel a truly troubling combination of sadness and anger. It was as if you had already said your goodbyes to their relationship, completely ready to move on whilst Bucky was still trying to process your words. You were ready to leave him behind to mourn.

“I don’t think we’re right for each other,” you had said quietly. “I don’t think we can give each other what we need.”

"Bullshit," Bucky said, his voice cracking. You grimaced ever so slightly at his tone, still unable to meet his eyes. "How can you say that?"

He took a step forward; you matched it with a retreating step, but with wide strides he seized your wrists. He silently willed you to say something which could somehow lessen the excruciating pain.

“Will you just look at me?”

He wanted so badly for you to meet his stare, to find some source of comfort within your eyes which usually held so much love for him.

Finally, you relented and lifted your head. They did not fill Bucky with any hope. You pressed your lips together firmly as he searched your face desperately for any sign of residual affection.

"We - we're in love. How can you say after all these years that we're not right for each other? For fuck's sake, will you just tell me what happened?"

"People change, Bucky," you said softly. The look on your face - was it sadness, or apathy? "We've become too distant."

"And whose fault is that?" Bucky released you then. He was so angry, wanting to elicit some sort of reaction from you, that he wanted to punch the wall beside them. It made him feel nauseous at how stoic you were now, like a piece of unyielding rock. He knew you hated it when he took his anger out physically. You had been the one to teach him how to manage his rage more constructively, to talk things out and use his words rather than his fists.

"Are you trying to say it's mine?" Your tone was sharp, finally demonstrating some emotion. "Are you saying that all those nights waiting for you to come back home, all those evenings alone whilst you stayed at the Tower, all those hours I spent staring at the four walls of this apartment were my fault?"

"You left me!" Bucky retorted, gritting his teeth. "You left me long before today! You think I haven't noticed? You can barely stand touching me. You're always on your phone, always texting, always out seeing your 'friends'," he said, making air quotes. "I asked Wanda, she said you haven't been meeting her or your other friends for weeks. Who's this 'friend’? Who the fuck is it that's so important that you can't spare any time for me, never mind your actual friends?"

A long, pregnant pause filled the air, an indecipherable mask on your face once more. Bucky’s eyes were wet, and if he hadn't been so angry, he would've seen the way your lower lip was trembling ever so slightly, the way it did whenever you were trying not to cry. It had been the biggest telltale sign for him over the years to know when you were upset and trying your best to hide it.

He was usually so good at reading you, but he was blinded with sadness.

"Fine," you said eventually, slicing the silence with a shaky exhale. "I'm seeing someone else."

You might as well have struck Bucky across the face.

Suspecting it and hearing the words fall from your lips were two different things. He physically reeled back in anguish as he stared at you. He took in the sight of his girlfriend in front of him, swallowing the lump that was forming in his throat. This was, without a doubt, the woman he had met five years ago. The woman he spent five years loving. The woman whom he recognized no longer.

"Why?" Bucky whispered, all the fight leaving his body. He physically seemed to sag, forehead creasing at all the other questions running through his mind, visions of you being touched and fucked by some faceless, nameless man.

You were almost pitiful in the way you looked at Bucky, and he hated it.

"I care for you, Bucky. But I’m not in love with you anymore. And I'm sorry I had to do this to you. Things just got out of control."

I’m not in love with you anymore.

You offered no further information, but he had stopped listening, anyway. The finality in your voice pierced him slowly, tortuously, through the heart. He barely moved when you took your suitcase and pulled it out behind you, out of their apartment. Out of his life.

The door slammed shut.

Present day

You are cordially invited to attend the wedding of Mercedes Knight & Samuel Wilson

Sam had become Bucky’s closest confidant in the past few years, and the latter had been a close witness as Sam met Mercedes ‘Misty’ Knight, a former NYPD officer who had somehow become roped into their crazy world. It was no surprise to Bucky when they announced their engagement just six months into dating.

Bucky found himself being pulled into their wedding planning discussions far too often. He tried to keep an amused smile at bay whilst listening into Misty and Sam’s wedding talk at the Tower. They were using one of the many conference rooms - a Knight-Wilson union was official business, Misty insisted.

"Are you bringing a date?" Misty asked suddenly in the middle of everything, the question directed at Bucky.

"Of course he's bringing a date," Sam smirked. "Heard things with Sharon are going well, right?"

Bucky smiled non-committedly, shrugging. "She's great." It didn’t go unnoticed by Sam that this didn’t quite answer his question.

"You two look good together," Misty offered. She glanced at her watch and widened her eyes theatrically, grabbing Sam’s hand. "Oh crap, we need to go meet with the wedding planner."

"But it feels like we just sat down," Sam complained.

"There's no rest for the bride and groom, Sam," Misty said, pulling her fiancé out of his seat as she waved goodbye at Bucky.

As soon as they departed, the smile on Bucky’s face dimmed. He was beyond happy for his two friends, he really was - but every couple he knew was a fresh reminder of his own failed love life.

Ever since you, he hadn't been in a long term relationship. Sharon is different, he told himself, and she was. They had been friends for a long time, and of course spent a lot of time together carrying out missions and the like. Over time, somehow, they had gotten closer, and one day Sharon had just asked him, “So when are you going to ask me out, Barnes?”

At that point, Bucky was still frequently thinking about you. Sharon had never met you before, but Bucky wouldn’t be surprised if she had heard stories about you from the others, since he had been notoriously affected by the breakup. Even though he was dealing with the aftershocks of the broken relationship, he was forcing himself to get past it.

They had been dating for two months now, and it only seemed right for Sharon to be his date at the wedding.

He had moved on. He was no longer the depressed, dark wreck he was when you left.

Sometimes it’s better to lie to yourself than to face the reality.

“You invited Bucky’s ex to the wedding?” Misty asked curiously.

“Uh, yeah. She’s not just his ex,” Sam explained gently. “She’s my friend too, and I haven’t seen her since she left town.”

"You told Bucky?"

"Nope," Sam snorted, shaking his head. "I can't. I don't think he'd turn up if I did. I want them both there on the day - I'm sure they can be civil for one night."

“I wonder how Bucky will react," his future wife pondered.

Sam shrugged. Not well, probably.

"What else can I do? I can’t not invite her, I really want her to be there. You never met her, so you don’t know, but she’s been through some shit.”

“I know, I know, you told me,” Misty said. “I just don’t want anyone to get hurt. Do you think she'll be okay seeing Bucky again? Especially if he'll be there with Sharon?"

"She said she can handle it. She would be happy to see that Bucky was happy. She was the one who practically begged me to encourage him to move on."

“Do you think he has?”

Sam paused, considering the question carefully.

“He has to.”

Several weeks later, Misty Knight and Sam Wilson were officially wed at the local registration office. The day was full of hugs, cacophonous laughter, friends and family, and Bucky watched with a wide beam on his face as he witnessed his friends glow. Those kinds of smiles were few and far between nowadays, but he was truly happy for once.

"They look so good together," Sharon murmured as hundreds of guests filled the hotel ballroom, the party commencing in full swing. The newlyweds were in the center of the room, Misty being twirled around wildly by a laughing Sam before his wife collapsed against his chest in fits of giggles, looking up into his eyes adoringly.

More and more people joined them on the dance floor after the conclusion of their official first dance.

"Barnes, would you like to dance?" Sharon asked suddenly with a smile, extending a hand.

Bucky chuckled, allowing her to take his hand and lead him out to the dance floor.

An hour passed, and Bucky had to truthfully say that he was enjoying himself, assisted by all the alcohol he had consumed. Sharon was draped all over him as they swayed to the music, and Bucky found himself appreciating the feel of her body against his all too much, the scent of her intoxicating. His hands felt the fabric of her silky, emerald green dress, buried his nose into Sharon's blonde hair, sighing softly as he tightened his grip on her waist.

Her perfume was strong and woodsy, like a forest. It irritated his nose ever so slightly. You had preferred a more subtle, floral perfume, one that smelt like sakura blossoms.

Sharon was more confident and seductive in the way she danced, whilst you used to always let yourself become putty in his arms, enjoying how he took the lead and managed to make you look like you knew how to dance despite your two left feet.

However, despite the differences, if Bucky closed his eyes and just tried a little harder, he think he could pretend that -

"Sorry to interrupt.”

Bucky pulled away from Sharon suddenly, and he turned to mock glare at Sam. "What do you want, Wilson?"

"Need to borrow you for a minute," Sam said, an undecipherable expression on his face. Bucky tried to see where Misty had disappeared off to, but saw no trace.

"Um, sure..." Bucky tried to read Sam’s face but gleaned nothing.

"I'll just go say hi to Natasha," Sharon said, giving Bucky’s forearm a squeeze before she disappeared.

Sam’s smile faded, and he caught Bucky’s arm in a vice grip. "I need to tell you something. Don't get mad, okay?"

"What?" Bucky scowled as Sam dragged him to the side of the room, weaving through the crowds of guests. "What good news starts with, ‘don’t get mad’? Are you gonna tell me you want to run out on Misty or something?" He joked.

Sam pulled him out through one of the open French doors which led to a pretty, outdoor stone balcony. He shut them behind him as Bucky continued to babble, a little tipsy from the champagne he'd had. "I gotta tell ya, if she asks me to kick your ass I will literally do so -”

"Bucky," Sam said, taking a deep breath. "She’s here." Meeting Bucky’s nonplussed eyes, your name rolled off Sam’s tongue in clarification.

He felt like the breath was sucked from his lungs as he stared back at Sam, who looked uncharacteristically anxious.

“What?" He asked hoarsely, instantly sobering up. “What do you mean?”

Chills were running through his body. The name he had avoided for years was suddenly causing him to feel breathless. How did you still have such an affect on him?

"She couldn't make it to the ceremony earlier today, but she just arrived."

"You - you invited her here? She’s here, now?"

"Yes," Sam replied, nodding. "I invited her.” He straightened up and crossed his arms over his chest almost defiantly.

Bucky was speechless for a moment, taking a step back and scoffing. He shook his head. “Do you remember what she did to me?”

“I'm sorry, Buck..."

Bucky suddenly laughed, startling Sam. His laugh was curt, humorless. "What are you sorry for? I'm over her, Sam. It was two years ago. I haven't seen her in two years. I don't care anymore," he said quickly. Too quickly.

"Listen -"

"Look, it's okay." Bucky raised his hands in small surrender. “You have the right to invite whoever you want. I’m not mad. But I just don’t want to be held accountable for whatever happens now.”

He turned and wrenched the French doors open with such force that the handle buckled slightly. The noise inside the ballroom spilled out to replace the painful silence on the balcony.

He disappeared inside before Sam could say anything else, and he tried to hide it, but Sam could clearly see that his hands were shaking as he marched inside.

For the next twenty minutes, Bucky found sanctuary in the restrooms. He stood inside the stall, trying to stop himself from mentally collapsing.

He didn’t know what was happening. He had never felt this overwhelming panic rush over him before, immobilizing him. Anger, sadness and yearning swirling inside a melting pot of emotions that was crippling him.

She was here. The woman he hadn't seen in two years, the woman who broke his heart, the woman who betrayed him, the woman who left him in tatters.

Your infidelity had had an unforeseen impact on him. When he first found out, he was devastated. Terrified of how you became someone he didn’t recognize - or had you always been someone capable of betraying him, just good at hiding it?

You had poisoned all the happy memories they had once shared. Bucky found himself recounting all the years you were together, micro-analyzing everything, wondering if there was a hidden lie behind it all.

That was one of the things which made him angriest. You turned all the beautiful years of your relationship into a lie. None of it was real, Bucky had told himself.

You crushed him.

Of his feelings, anger prevailed, slowly simmering to the surface, like a volcano about to erupt. How dare you walk back into his life like this? He would show you, Bucky thought with determination. He was over you. He had no reason to be angry, he thought bitterly, because you were nothing to him.

Just like Bucky was nothing to you.

When he emerged from the toilets, the first thing he did was find Sharon. She looked relieved to see him, although confusion was clear on her face as she eyed Bucky.

"Where have you been? Are you feeling okay?" She commented, brow furrowed with concern.

"I'm fine," Bucky assured her. "Have you seen Sam?"

Sharon pointed, puzzlement still painted across her face, and Bucky snapped round quickly.

And there you were.

It was as if you had never left. As if the past two years filled with Bucky trying to eradicate every memory and feeling he had for you had never happened, because as soon as Bucky’s eyes found you through the crowd, everything came collapsing back down on top of him like an avalanche. Suffocating.

You were still so beautiful, strikingly so. Like a burning beacon among the crowd, Bucky’s eyes found your face as easily as anything. For a second, he allowed himself to ignore anything except you, and how the sight of you still managed to take his breath away.

You looked thinner than he remembered, your face gaunt. Bucky frowned slightly at this acute observation and found himself wondering if you had been taking care of yourself.

"Barnes? You okay?"

Bucky registered Sharon shaking his arm, but his eyes remained fastened on yourself and Sam. Neither of you had spotted Bucky yet, who was rooted to the spot like a statue. Sam’s mouth was moving, words that Bucky couldn't hear escaping his mouth, but his expression was angry. Almost as if he was scolding you for something.

"I have to...I..." Bucky stumbled over his words, voice faint. He could feel those tendrils of anger slowly seizing him again, wisps at first, until they grew more and more potent by the second. He remembered every single thing he felt when you left him, and instead of trying to hold back the emotions, Bucky just saw red.

"Let me introduce you to someone," he said suddenly, his voice strained as he took Sharon's hand.

"You said you were better," Sam said, expression torn.

"I am," you lied, trying to put on a smile. Truth was, you were exhausted, just like how you always felt. The ballroom was so crowded and loud, and you just wanted to go back to the hotel and sleep, which you would the moment you finished congratulating Sam and Misty. And perhaps, even though you didn't want to admit it, you wanted to catch a glimpse of Bucky, too.

"Look at you, you're -"

“Sam, please don’t,” you interrupted gently. “Just drop it, please? It’s your big day, I don’t want you to worry about anything else.”

Sam opened his mouth to talk, but stopped suddenly, his eyes flitting to look behind you.

"Hey."

You froze. You knew that voice, of course. Heard it enough times, the deep, gravelly voice that had once whispered sweet pet names, proclamations of love, and plagued your dreams ever since you left him.

You had longed to hear his voice again, hear your name being spoken lovingly. His voice was your favorite sound in the world. Except tonight, hearing it for the first time in two years, you heard nothing but ice.

"Bucky?" You turned slowly, and your breath hitched. He was just the way you remembered him. Even more handsome, if possible. Clad in a sleek black tux, tall and dark and sexy, everything you had missed and dreamed of, and...

He was holding another woman’s hand.

"Bucky," Sam repeated, voice tense. Bucky could hear the underlying warning.

"It's been a while," he said stiffly, acting as neutral as he could. As if he hadn't spent months after their terrible break up being a shell of who he used to be, barely repaired even now. Bucky felt like any other venomous words from your mouth would shatter him again, but he had to take the chance. He had to talk to you, show you that he had moved on. He didn't care about you anymore, or how you so ruthlessly left him.

"Yes," you said weakly, smiling softly. God, he still thought that you looked beautiful, clad in a periwinkle blue dress, a thick coat draped around your shoulders. You were shivering, and Bucky resisted the urge to ask you what was wrong. Now that he was closer, he could see that didn’t look well at all. You had dark circles under your eyes and your collarbones were too prominent, your gaze devoid of any livelihood.

You glanced at Bucky’s fingers interlaced with a gorgeous blonde. You had seen her on the news before, you were pretty certain. Your smile forcibly stretched wider, blinking a few times, not knowing what to do with yourself.

"This is Sharon," Sam said, clearing his throat and exchanging introductions.

“It’s very nice to meet you,” Sharon said politely. She was gorgeous, you thought, watching as she sent Bucky a subtle, questioning glance.

Bucky was still staring at you, unmoving. You took the initiative first.

“Bucky, can we talk for a second?"

You could see the way he was trying to control himself by the way his lips stiffened, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. He gave a curt nod. He didn’t want to cause a scene in front of Sharon and the other hundreds of wedding guests.

“Let’s leave these two to catch up,” Sam said lightly, trying to hide his discomfort as he led Sharon away.

"So now you want to talk?" Bucky asked as soon as they were out of earshot, his voice sharp. You cringed, almost folding into yourself at Bucky’s hard stare.

"Yes," was all you managed to whisper, eyes darting to the ground to avoid meeting his glare. “Let’s go somewhere quieter.”

You turned and walked towards the exit of the ballroom, turning back to look at Bucky. He followed after a second, his jaw set like stone as you led the way to the empty lobby outside, away from the noise.

"It's been a while, Buck.” You voice was sad as you turned to face him again.

"Yes," he said, fighting an internal battle. He was so torn. Seeing you again made him want to wrap you up in his arms like he would've done two years ago, when you were still together. And feeling like that made Bucky angry. What right did you have to make him feel this way? Who gave you the right to mess with Bucky’s heart again after so long?

"How have you been?" You asked eventually after a painfully awkward silence.

He scoffed at that. "How have I been?" He repeated incredulously. He doubted you really wanted to hear about all those nights he spent in his apartment, refusing to talk to his friends, being a complete social introvert (more than he usually was) because he felt like he just couldn't live anymore. Not without you.

"Great. Fantastic," he said without a shred of sincerity.

You stared at him for the longest time, your lips pressed into a thin line. You looked so regretful that it made Bucky feel uncomfortable.

"I'm sorry," you said eventually, your voice wavering like you were struggling to breathe properly. "I'm so sorry for leaving you like that. We...we could have ended things better. You didn't deserve how I treated you."

You flinched when Bucky scoffed derisively. He dropped any remaining restraints he had previously put in place, letting all his feelings run free.

"Are you kidding me? Why? Why are you coming back here and apologizing after all this time?" He felt like he wanted to tear his hair out in frustration as he stared at you, making sure to keep his distance lest he found himself wanting to pull you closer. God, it was all so confusing. He despised you, and yet seeing you here in the flesh was everything he had ever wanted in the last few years.

He hated how you were making him feel.

"Look, it doesn't matter anymore. What's done is done," he spat through gritted teeth, all the while completely unaware of how your heart clenched painfully at Bucky’s scornful eyes. “Do you have any idea how unfair this is? You fucked up big time, disappeared off the face of the earth, then come back standing in front of me now asking how I am?”

“I know. You’re right, about everything. I just wanted to let you know that I’m sorry.”

“No. You have no right to do this,” Bucky seethed. “You have no right to come back here and try to - what, settle your guilt? Make amends?”

You didn’t say anything, choosing to let him vent instead.

“I still remember the way you left. What you did. I will never forgive you for that. So don’t you dare stand in front of me today with all this bullshit and expect me to have something nice to say.”

"You really hate me, don't you?" You asked then, taking Bucky off guard. You lifted your head properly to stare at him, and the look in your eyes was unsettling.

"I hate you," Bucky confirmed unwaveringly, his voice hard. "I hate what you did to me and by extension, you."

You didn't respond. You bit your lower lip hard, trying desperately not to cry in front of him. Your heart hurt so much.

It was the worst feeling in the world, maybe, seeing the man you loved so dearly tell you that he hated you. It was excruciating, the clenching inside your chest as Bucky’s words rang in your head.

"I know my apologies will never be enough. I just wanted to see if you're happy now," you whispered.

"I'm happy," Bucky replied almost immediately. "I'm happy with Sharon. Does that bother you? Did you hope that I'd still be pining after you? I'm not that pathetic anymore." The barriers were broken, and the hurtful words were falling from Bucky’s mouth, two years worth of it.

“I never said you were pathetic,” you retorted, slightly indignant. “I’m glad that you’re happy.”

Bucky was breathing hard, unconvinced by your words.

“And how's the man you left me for?"

"He...it didn't work out," you shrugged, trying to keep your face as straight as possible.

"Good," Bucky said harshly. "Because you don't deserve happiness." If he wasn't so mad, he wouldn't say such irrational things. But he just wanted you to hurt. He wanted you to feel all the pain you caused.

Bucky pretended he didn't hear you gasp. He pretended that he didn't see your eyes gloss over at the sheer amount of hate in his voice.

"Okay," you said finally, your voice clearly shaking. "Okay," you repeated again, nodding your head. Bucky watched you take a step back, away from him.

“I -”

“I'm sorry, Bucky. Please take care," you interrupted, smiling sadly before you turned and walked away as quickly as possible.

That was not how you envisioned the reunion to go. All you wanted was to apologize, know that he was happy, so that you could go in peace.

But maybe that was the consequence of your decision. Maybe he was just always going to hate you for the rest of his life and remember you as someone awful.

You didn’t know that all Bucky wanted to do was run after you. Tell you to stop. He wanted to apologize and tell you how he didn’t mean a word of what he just said.

Rage and pride kept him shackled, and he watched your retreating back, feeling like a coward.

The last thing Bucky expected when he opened his apartment door a few days later was Sam’s dirty glare.

"You can be a mean son of a bitch, do you know that?”

"Hello to you too,” Bucky retorted.

“Why did you say all that stuff to her?” Sam asked, pushing his way past Bucky.

Bucky closed the door, knowing exactly who he was referring to.

"Why is this any of your business?"

"You acted like a dick!" Sam said furiously.

“Look, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done something like that on your special day. But-”

“I want you to feel sorry to her.”

"She left me,” Bucky exclaimed. "You were there, Sam, you saw how fucked up she made me. She cheated on me! You want me to apologize to her?” His face was incredulous.

“You’re so fucking frustrating.”

“Oh, excuse me for not being the bigger person,” Bucky sneered. “But you don’t know how she made me feel, Sam, so don’t you dare try to give me a fucking lecture now.”

Sam was quiet for the longest time, looking exasperated. He stared up at the ceiling, sighing.

“Bucky, look man. She never cheated on you,” Sam said finally, an apologetic look in his eyes.

The apartment became filled with nothing but the sounds of Bucky’s heavy breathing.

“What are you talking about?” He spat, realizing now that Sam knew something he didn’t.

Sam let out a resigned sigh, rubbing the back of his neck.

"I promised her I wouldn’t tell you. But fuck it, man, cause I think this is messed up. She’s sick, Bucky," he said solemnly. "Like, really sick."

Two years ago

"It's cancer, Sam."

You physically couldn't cry anymore. You had done enough of that the day the doctor had told you, your eyes puffy and swollen. Funnily enough, the first person you had sought out wasn’t your boyfriend, but rather his best friend.

Bucky wasn’t even in town that weekend, and you really didn’t want to tell him over the phone. In fact, you never wanted to tell him. How do you tell the man you love that you're dying?

"You can get treatment, right?" Sam asked.

"I don't know. It’s not looking good. They're doing some sort of new clinical trial in England, but even that’s a long shot. I - I’m going to try, though.”

Sam sat up straighter. “And Bucky?”

"You can't tell him," you said firmly. You had thought about it all night, and you knew you couldn't let him know. You didn't want to put him through something like this. "My father had cancer too, Sam," you said softly. "He died in so much pain, he had so much treatment but it didn't help. He was throwing up all the time, having fevers, his body was so weak, and by the end he wasn’t the same anymore. I don't want him to see me like that."

“But-”

“No buts,” you said. You had given it enough thought already. You knew that you would have to be very, very lucky to make it through this - the end was essentially inevitable. There was no way you would make Bucky bear witness to you succumbing to this illness the same way you had to watch your father.

It was the worst time of your life. You had told Bucky about it in the past, as he had never had a chance to meet your father since he passed away years before you met Bucky. Knowing what you did, you would never inflict that same experience on him.

"So what are you going to do?"

"I have to leave him.” You had been preparing yourself for what you needed to do all night. "If I go, there's a chance I might not come back, you understand that, right?"

"Don't say things like that," Sam said forcefully, clenching your hand. "Just stop. Bucky will support you all the way, you know that!"

"That’s exactly why I have to go by myself. I can't be selfish, Sam. I want him to be happy. That's all I've ever wanted. I can’t make him drop everything to make me his number one priority. Looking after me will take time and constant care. If I go to England, he will abandon everything and come. Manhattan is his home.”

Sam looked anguished and you knew that he was disagreeing with everything you had just said, but you plowed on.

"It’s not just a matter of time and effort. If he stays, he will watch me die, and I don’t want him to do that.” You began to cry, and Sam hugged you, wishing he could say something comforting.

“It’s okay," you said through the tears, even though every fiber in your body was telling you the opposite. You had been repeating these words to yourself all night, as if you would believe it if you said it enough times. "It’ll be okay."

Maybe you were being stupid, but you didn't care. You knew Bucky loved you with his body and soul, as did you. But you weren’t going to let him suffer over your illness. You wouldn't let the person you cared most about in the world see you slowly deteriorate.

You had been witness to how your father was clearly in a depressive state, and yet tried his hardest to pretend to be happy and fine around other people. You didn’t know if you had the strength or bravery to even pretend.

You began distancing yourself. Stopped trying to make conversation with Bucky, until the long, endless, random talks you used to share diminished into curt sentences. You stopped waiting for Bucky to come home, simply pretending that you didn't care. You became more secretive, furtively hiding your calls with your doctor and your mother.

There was no other man. You loved him and only him, and had been nothing but faithful. You didn't know what hurt more: having to lie to Bucky or the fact that he so easily believed you would betray him like that.

In the end, you had really regretted fabricating a story of infidelity. You should have just gone your separate ways without making him think that you had been unfaithful. But at that time, you wanted to find a quick solution that would make Bucky voluntarily detach himself from you. It seemed like a wise decision, but you really, really wish you hadn’t let him believe that you didn’t love him. It was truly the worst feeling in the world.

It was all over in a few weeks. You packed your things and left, trying not to cry with every heavy step you took towards the door of your apartment. You knew you were making the best decision for them both, surely.

Time would heal Bucky, and he would be happy again one day.

It just couldn’t be with you.

Present day

"She just didn’t want to feel like a burden to you, man," Sam said, shaking his head. "Why did you have to say all those things to her at the wedding?"

Bucky could register nothing else after Sam finished explaining everything. He was in disbelief, though he knew that there was no way Sam would fabricate a story like that.

Now, he could only think of the way he had shouted at you. The way he told you how much he hated you. The way you had left.

"Where is she?" Bucky whispered.

"She’s leaving today," Sam said tersely. "She’s going back to England. She was real sick for a long time, and she recovered a few months ago, but the cancer came back.”

He slipped a hotel business card into Bucky’s hand. “This is the address she’s staying at," Sam said.

He grasped it like a lifeline, eyes unable to see Sam standing in front of him. His vision was completely filled with images of you.

"Go," Sam said forcefully. "Go and find her.”

The tears wouldn't stop falling.

You didn't know words could hurt so much. Sure, you had expected Bucky to hate you, but you weren’t prepared for the way every single word seemed to embed themselves into your skin like splinters into your heart.

They were once so happy. They were so perfect.

You hated yourself. Hated yourself for getting ill, for ruining what you had. The logic was irrational, but the self-hatred had become second nature.

You had spent the last few days holed up in your hotel. You had planned to use the time to see a few friends before returning to England, but you no longer had the heart.

You left your room that morning only because Wanda was furious that she missed you at the wedding, and you agreed to have coffee with her. She almost cried at the sight of you, but you put on a brave face, refusing to talk about Bucky. You begged her if you could just talk about happy topics and she eventually obliged, smiling sadly when you hugged each other goodbye.

“I’ll see you again, dear,” Wanda had said, and you hoped to God she was right.

As soon as you got inside your hotel room, you felt a switch click internally.

Everything hurt. You were tired, unhappy and you really didn’t know if you would ever make it out of this emotional blackhole. You felt so weak, like you would keel over at any given moment.

Cancer really was a bitch.

You kicked off your shoes and entered the bathroom. You lay down in the bathtub, fully clothed, turning the cold water on until you were almost completely submerged, wanting to numb all the pain inside your body and mind.

You eyes were red and swollen, and you couldn't remember crying so much since that day the doctor diagnosed you. Why was life so unfair? You wanted your old life back again. The life where Bucky didn't detest you, the one where he was happily and wonderfully in love with you.

You lay back, letting the water cover you completely. You closed your eyes, your hair gently swirling around your face. You opened your mouth and screamed, bubbles erupting to the surface.

Eventually you emerged, gasping and coughing, your tears hot in contrast to your frozen face. Your body wracked with sobs, shaking uncontrollably.

You sank back down into the water, your mouth opening once more to scream in uncontrollable rage. It was cathartic, your fists clenched into balls as you willed the feelings inside you to just - disappear.

When you opened your eyes beneath the water, you nearly gasped at the sight of a blurry, warped figure above you. You didn't have time to do anything when arms were suddenly encasing themselves around you, lifting you to the surface.

You spluttered and coughed, your ears assaulted by the voice that once whispered sweet nothings in your ear.

"- the fuck are you doing? Are you okay?"

Bucky.

You blinked past the water in your eyes, bewildered at the sight of him, kneeling beside the bathtub with his hands gripping your shoulders. His bright blue eyes were scared, wide open with concern.

You were startled at his sudden appearance, unable to say anything as he scooped you out, lifting you with ease. You were clearly in shock and scared.

You collapsed against him as he sat down on the bathroom floor with you in his arms.

"What were you doing?” Bucky was appalled as he pulled you close to him, watching how you continued to weep, blinking blearily at him. Your body was ice cold, every inch of you soaked.

He whipped a towel down from the railing beside you, wrapping it around your body as you shivered uncontrollably.

"Bu - Bucky?" You asked, as if you couldn't fathom why he was here. You were almost convinced you were hallucinating.

"Fuck, we need to get you out of these clothes," Bucky said, gritting his teeth as he tried not to cry. He had so much to say to you. He wanted you to know how sorry he was, how he didn't mean anything he said, but now wasn’t the time. He had to be strong for you.

You felt like a baby as Bucky removed your soaking wet garments until you were naked, then immediately swaddled you with more towels. He picked you up completely off the floor and took you out of the bathroom.

He chose to place you down on the edge of the bed, positioning himself to kneel down in front of you.

"Bucky," you whispered, voice thick, trying to pull away from him. “I think you should just leave me alone."

He stiffened. It scared him to hear you talk like this, to see you look at Bucky with such defeat in your eyes.

“No,” he said resolutely. “I'm here now, okay? I'm here, I'm not leaving, and I need you to be with me. I need you here, talking to me.”

"I can't. I can't do this anymore. Just go, please."

Bucky looked at you then. Really looked at you. The woman he loved and misunderstood for so long was now a trembling wreck in front of him, skin paper thin and trembling like a leaf. You looked so vulnerable and sad, and it made his heart twist.

Bucky suddenly held you tight against his chest, tucking his nose against the crook of your neck, and you didn't resist.

"Do you have any idea how much I hate myself? I hate myself for letting you go through this alone. I hate myself for telling you all those lies that night. I love you, I love you, I love you," Bucky said, wishing that you would see it.

“Don’t.”

“I wish you had told me. I would have helped you. You should have told me. I can’t believe you -”

You realized now that Sam must've told him the truth, and you sighed softly.

"I'm not good for you, Bucky," you whispered. "I will only ever hurt you, put you through more pain."

"I know everything now," Bucky said firmly. "No matter what happens, I will gladly endure it as long as it means we're no longer apart."

“Don’t be so stupid,” you said, anger tearing through your voice, though the tears were still falling. “I’m broken, Buck. I can’t give you a future. Please just find someone else - stay with Sharon.”

“Sharon?” If you hadn’t mentioned her name, Bucky would never have even thought about her. “No - we’re not serious, doll. She was never going to be the one.”

“No,” you insisted. “If not her, then fine, find someone else. Just not me.”

“Why aren’t you listening?” Bucky asked furiously. “I love you. I’ve always loved you. Please don’t do this. I need you." He was desperate to make you see, to make you understand. It was you or nothing. "You don’t know how awful the past few years have been. I don’t want to be apart from you, please.” He was prepared to grovel at your feet and beg.

He hated himself for how easily he gave up two years ago. This time, he was not letting you leave him.

His beautiful blue eyes pleaded with you, and you felt your barricades crumble. Your arms finally moved to wrap around him, and he felt a wave of relief as he encircled you in his arms. You had missed this, the feeling of Bucky holding you so tenderly.

You didn’t know if you were making the right choice, but you wanted to give in so badly and just let yourself be selfish and enjoy what time you could have together. And now that Bucky had you back by his side, he was definitely not going to let you go.

Even if they were in pieces, at least they were together. And Bucky was positive that they could put those pieces back into a whole, as long as you gave it a chance.

"You're so stupid," you said through your tears.

"I don't think so," Bucky said, managing the smallest smile. "Just stupidly in love with you."

You wanted to stay like this forever, entangled in each others arms. He pulled back slowly to study your face, and leaned in to press a gentle kiss against your lips. He kissed you again, deeper this time, breathing you in.

“You owe me two years of kisses,” he mumbled.

You laughed softly, but it soon died. First, you had a lot of talking to do. You used the following hour to tell him the details about your illness, why you had left, how sorry you were for treating Bucky the way you did when you broke up with him.

"You're so dumb," Bucky had said, sounding furious for a moment. "You had no right to decide something like that for me. You know I would support you.”

"I know, Buck," you had interrupted. "That's exactly why I had to leave. I didn't want you to see me die, okay?"

You had looked like you were about to cry again, so Bucky stopped scolding you immediately. He would never make you cry again, he swore.

"You're here now," he said, kissing your temple. "We're together now. Everything feels...right again."

You swallowed, biting your lip. "I told you, my cancer is back and -"

"You'll get better again," he said, refusing to look at you. You knew that tears were in his eyes. "You'll get better, okay?" His voice wavered slightly.

"It's worse this time, Bucky," you said. "Look at me. I'm practically withering away."

"You'll get better," he said, clenching his teeth.

You didn't say anything, just nestled against Bucky’s chest, relishing the way he wrapped his arms securely around your frame as if you would disappear at any moment.

Maybe he was right. Maybe by some miracle, with Bucky by your side, you would be able to give him all the time in the world.

"I'll try to stick around," you whispered.

[akxmee]

𝗔𝗠𝗢𝗥 𝗣𝗢𝗦𝗧 𝗠𝗢𝗥𝗧𝗘𝗠. //𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔 𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐎.

He loved her since childhood, yet she married another man.

Words: 11.3k

Suguru Geto was never seen like a man interested in relationships. Not flings, not one-night stands, real relationships. Unlike his best friend satoru who used to have tons of girlfriends week after week, Suguru wasn't fond of it. Don't get him wrong, he did like to have his fun too, but once he had it and was satisfied he never once was seen again.

It's not like he didn't want a relationship either. He wished for the warmth of a relationship, he craved the proximity and he needed that closeness with someone, but not with anyone. Because he only wanted you.

He always did.

Everytime he felt some random woman's hand run through his hair, every moment he felt someone admiring his beauty, everytime he was sent gifts from some "secret admirer" on valentines, everyday he woke up next to some lady he met on a party..he wished it was you. No matter how many hands he held, they never fit his like yours do. No matter how many people he met, none of their personalities was made for his like yours is. Maybe that's why he never really even tried to establish a serious romantic relationship with someone, because he knows no one will fit him like you do.

"It's no use. If she doesn't like you by now, give up. Want something to smoke the pain away?"

Yeah, shoko said that to him more than once and he remembers it too well. He always ignored the last part, because Suguru knew you didn't like the smell of cigarettes from the way your beautiful face turns into an expression of disgust when you smell it. He has always been able to admire your beauty, even when he first met you as a child and decided to play with this pretty kid from the other class.

Oh, how he cursed the day that he met you.

He remembers it as clear as a day, it was a snowy day in primary school. He was in class, waiting while sitting on a chair while he waited for his patents to pick him up since they were late because of work. All the kids were already gone, and he was just staring at the floor while patiently following his teacher's orders.

—Psst!

He looked around for the owner of that sound. The door wasn't opened, and nobody was inside of the class too.

—Over here!

Suguru looked to his right, seeing another child standing on a chair to get part of their face visible through the tall window. The kid waved, and he found himself waving too.

—You look bored, want to play?

He looked around the classroom for a second. He was more than happy to have someone to play, but it was a classroom. What game could he play here, if it wasn't doing basic mathematical exercises?

—Bur there are no games here..

To his surprise, the child nodded.

—I know! But look.—The kid proceeded to signal to the opposite window, the one that had looks to the exterior of the school.—There's snow. We can make a snowman, like the movies!

He sounded interested in her offer. However, he was still not fully trusting you.

—Won't we get sick? I'll say it's your fault if i catch a cold!

He said, pointing at you with his finger along with a sly smile. Even if there was a dirty window between the two of you, he could still feel the warmth of the smile you just gave him then.

—No worries! I'll make sure you stay warm.

—You promise?

He looked at the child's innocent eyes that grew excited as he seemed to have agreed to play with her now. His lips curved into a smile due to this.

—I promise!

And he trusted her word. His mom once said that promises couldn't be broken once you make them, so that kid was responsible of him now in case he grew cold. He got off of his chair, opened the door and finally saw her whole, not just half of their face looking at him through a window. The child he has been talking to smiled as they got off a chair to get to his level, and he helped her get the chair back to the classroom it was borrowed from before going outside.

The kid was called Y/N, he learned.

And you were so fun to be with. He played with you, made a few snowmen, threw snowballs at eachother, and laughed the hardest for a long time when he hit you and you fell to a huge pile of snow. He thought you were going to be boring at first, that you were just one of those stupid kids who laughed at him because he claimed to see "spirits" or "curses" as he liked to call them, but you weren't. You didn't even understand what he meant when he talked to you about them, however you were sweet about it. You even said it was alright and that everyone has imaginary friends, he just has tons of them! That's cool, isn't it? Having so many friends must be cool.

For a moment, he thought it was cool too.

Not a curse, not a gift, but something cool only he could do.

And that single feeling of being someone "cool", someone interesting and not some crazy child, made him feel free for the hour he kept playing with you until his parents picked him up. He was scolded for being outside and catched a huge cold that had him in bed for two whole days, but it was okay. He liked the way you kept him entertained that day, so he forgave you for breaking the promise.

Yeah, he liked you.

Suguru sighed, those memories he thought he would eventually forget coming back to him. He was a shy kid, and you made him get out of his comfort zone. That little you tore down his walls and stepped all over his beloved silence until he began to hate it as much as you did. Now, there was no place for it when you were together and he got used to you yapping everytime just like Satoru. Only difference was he actually enjoyed your voice, he found the tone you spoke to him with quite relaxing.

He noticed how you always had a different tone for each person.

It was endearing, to say the least. Suguru loved the way you called for him, the way his name sounded so sweet from your lips. When you talked to him, he noticed your voice was soft. Softer than usual, soft as if you knew you didn't have to raise your voice for him to understand you better. Sometimes there wasn't even a need to say something for him to understand you, but he still pretended he didn't hear you just to listen to your voice once again.

He adored your voice.

And maybe, just maybe, that was the reason he was calling you to tell you this instead of texting you right now.

He thought about it once again, how brave he was being right now when as a teen he couldn't be able to even look at your face despite being your childhood friend. It was all because he had just discovered he had this silly crush on you, wasn't it?

Oh, how he cursed the day he fell in love with you.

It was when he recently joined the jujutsu tech, as far as he remembers. You two were then at his home, with a bottle and a half of alcohol empty, doing both a celebration and goodbye party. He got into the college, but that only meant he was leaving you behind to go and live in Tokyo while you stayed at his childhood town. That explains why you were completely drunk, drunk enough to look at him and not think about how he was going to leave next week.

—Going to fall asleep already?

You looked at Suguru with sleepy eyes. Right, you two were on the sofá with some of those random pathetic TV shows at 3am as background noise as you leaned on his shoulder and he talked about the people he was going to have class with. None of the ones he described to you seemed interesting since, for you, your Suguru was always going to be the strongest. However, you listened to him carefully anyways like you always do.

—No, I won't.

He chuckled.

—Right. I'll be guessing you're spending the night here?

He felt a slight nod against his shoulder.

—You even dare to think i won't?

—Not at all, m'am.—You rolled your eyes at the formal nickname, getting your head off his shoulder as a punishment. You also intended to get up to be more dramatic, but a hand on your waist stopped you.—You're drunk, i wouldn't recommend standing up just yet.

You looked to the side, meeting his half lidded eyes and cocky smile as he talked to you. A slight blush crept its way on his cheeks due to the alcohol, but didn't sound drunk at all despite all of that.

—So what? It's time to go to bed anyways, Suguru.

—You actually intend to go to bed knowing how tipsy we are right now?

—No, but i do want a blanket from your bedroom.

He looked at you and wondered if you were serious. Alcohol warms people up, so how could you be cold? It was winter, but his house was surely warm enough to stay hot and comfy.

—Hell, are you sick?

The hand on your waist pulled you closer to him and as a result you ended up with your head on his chest. Next thing you knew, a pair of soft lips were pressed on your temple for a few seconds until the feeling of them disappeared.

—You don't seem to have a fever.

You looked up, not caring about what he just did and how your actions could be misunderstanded if someone walked in right then. You were always this close to Suguru. You didn't mind being this close to his chest, neither did you care if he pulled you by the waist, and the feeling of his lips on your forehead to check your temperature was just another of the things you've grown used to. Not only that, but you were too drunk to even give it a second thought. Hell, he could have kissed you on the lips with the excuse of checking if you're sick and you wouldn't have thought anything bad about it because of how sleepy you were getting.

And he knew that.

He just didn't know why he wanted to do it so bad.

That time when he was leaning in to kiss your forehead his tired gaze lingered on your lips for a bit, nothing too weird. You were wearing that lipstick shade he helped you pick, and it suited you really good! It was okay, so why did he feel the urge to ruin it until his lips were of that shade too? Why did he feel like he was doing something wrong by pulling you into his chest, thinking of this as something that wouldn't be quite considered friendship?

—Hey, Suguru.

Your voice interrumpted his thoughts. You were still on his chest, now in a comfy position and playing with a strand of his loose dark hair. The man simply looked at you, mumbling a soft "mm?" waiting for you to keep going even if he knew you were just going to tell the most carefree thing ever since you were drunk.

—I've been thinking, and i'm really glad you're the one I get to call my best friend.

Best friend.

Yeah, he needed to get that carved into his brain urgently since that was what you two were, are, and will be. There was no space to even think about something as complex as some kind of attraction to his kind of cute childhood friend, and he was once again reminded of it. All the times he got butterflies just because you held his hand like you always do, he needs to get rid of all of them. All of the times his heart raced because of a silly kiss on his cheek, the long hugs, the late night talks about life..it needs to stop. It was dirty to think of you in a way beyond friendship when you saw a brother in him, and he knew that. You didn't see it the way he wanted you to, so he had to start forcing himself to think the way you do.

It should be easy, that's what he thought when he first felt this strange around you.

Yet, it was anything but easy.

So with a sigh, he placed a hand on top of your head while the other one rested on your lower back. He positioned the two of you so you completely lay on the couch and turned off the TV, admiring how you didn't even question his actions as you waited for an answer to what you said a few seconds ago.

—Yes, i'm grateful you're my friend too.

"Liar", he thought.

But what could he do? He doesn't like you anymore.

It's clear now,

He entirely loves you.

The phone made a sound, and it once again stopped him from daydreaming.

—Suguru?

He heard you talk from the other line. The man smiled just by hearing you call his name.

—Y/N.

Suguru called your name back, his voice was deep and sweet, and had this endearing sweet touch that made it sound like he was purring your name.

—It's late, why did you call me?

You didn't even sound worried despite the fact that he was calling you so out of nowhere, this was a normal thing. He kept quiet for a bit, he could hear some utensils being moved around.

Perhaps you were at home, cooking?

That's good, he loved your cooking. You made food for him several times, so many that he lost count. Seeing you cook while he waited leaning on the kitchen's counter made him dream of a universe where you cooked for him everyday. Oh, how he imagined you cooking something for him as he got from work. You and him, at home, married and not friends. That's the perfect life, the life he desired next to you.

However, it was not possible.

He exhaled.

—I'm not going to attend your wedding.

He didn't even get to keep talking, and the sound of a metal object —some cutlery, he guessed— hitting the floor was already interrupting him.

—What do you mean?!

You asked him desperately, getting worried. What did he mean by not coming to your wedding? Was he crazy? He was one of the only people you specifically wanted to see at your ceremony. You wanted to spend your special day with him, who you considered part of your family at this point. You wanted to recieve an speech from him congratulating you as he promised, you wanted him to joke about how your husband's family was so dry, you wanted him to see you in your wedding dress.

And he did, too.

He just wasn't able to.

—Suguru!

You called for him, waiting for an explanation. He stayed quiet for a second, the only thing you could hear from his line was the sound of heavy steps and wind. He was walking through an alley, leaning on the wall once he was there.

—Listen, i can't.

—Why?!

He wondered about what excuse would suit best right now to give it to you. "I love you" he wished to say, but was it really relevant when you were soon to marry another man? How could he even dare to be as selfish as that, letting you know of all of the times he took advantage of your friendship to have an excuse to hold you? How could he, as a man, ever think of saying such a thing? However, you did deserve to know the truth. Was he really going to tell you?

He shook his head, a bittersweet smile in his face.

—I can't, Y/N. Something just came up, and I-

—Something more important than your best friend's wedding day? Really, Suguru?

—Yeah.

He hated the way your breath hitched at that, the way he could feel the pain in your voice. Because the pain you felt, he felt it even worse. Everytime the smallest of the corners of your heart broke, his whole soul shattered.

—And you can't even give me an explanation?

Your voice cracked. He just stayed quiet, and you got your answer.

Your tone changed this time.

—I hope you're glad of what you've just done. Don't you dare to call me again, Geto.

You hung up, and he knew he fucked you up.

His last name was spat with what felt like venom through his ears, the feeling of not hearing you calling out his name with a cheery tone had him at the verge of tears. It was his decision, so why was it so hard to do this to you? You were supposed to be the only woman he could ever love, and he just hurt you.

His shaky hands threw his phone across the street, frustration getting over him.

Fuck it.

He crawled along the alley still leaning against the wall for support, sitting on the ground once he reached the edge of it. His breathing was accelerated, he didn't know if it was due to stress or the stinging pain coming from his shoulder.His head leaned back as he hissed in pain, clutching on his arm.

Or what was left of it, anyways.

Blood stained his hands, which he didn't even realize were paler than usual. He left out a shaky breath, recalling all of the things that happened faster than he could ever imagine. He was beat up by this kid called Yuta, ruined his relationship with you and was about to die, all in a span of time of a few hours.

It was for the best.

—Suguru.

A voice called his name. For a second he thought he would see you, but the voice was too masculine to be yours. His mind must be playing games on him.

He opened his eyes, seeing a white haired man he knew a little too well.

—Ah, Satoru.

Satoru looked at him with those eyes, those eyes that used to be filled with emotion now looking empty. His friend kept quiet, so Suguru kept talking.

—You know, just had a chat with your wife. We might have fought a little.

Yes, Satoru's wife. That was no one but you, the only woman he could have ever desired, taken from him by his best friend. He was mad at first, hearing that you and satoru were offcially dating.

Satoru knew he liked you, so why?

He was crazy, refused to talk to Satoru in private or when you were not looking. He placed his trust on Satoru when he said he would respect his crush, and he betrayed it. He didn't even understand why would he do such thing when Satoru was known for having like.. four, five? girlfriends in one month. He didn't want his best friend to break your heart.

But then he saw it.

He saw the way Satoru looked at you and noticed how you looked at him back.

Fuck, you loved eachother.

Because he knew that gaze of yours, he dreamed of it more than he could ever count. He wished of the day you would look at him like that, but Satoru got that dream come true before him. He cried until the next morning that day, cursing fate for giving him a heart that wasn't his, but yours. He cried because no matter what he did for a decade, Satoru got you in just two years.

Was it Satoru's eyes? Was it his pale hair? Perhaps you thought he was unattractive. He knew he was always going to be less than his best friend, but he thought that maybe you would choose him and not the strongest.

But you didn't.

And with time, he learned how to live with it. He helped Satoru pick anniversary gifts for you, supported your relationship with him, calmed you down when you and Satoru fought, helped satoru pick a ring and propose to you... Hell, he was going to be Satoru's man of honor at your wedding too. How could he not? You looked so happy when you gave him that handwritten invitation letter inviting him you to your wedding with another man while his heart crushed in silence.

But everytime, he smiled at you.

Because you were happy, and Suguru wouldn't want anything but that.

And that's why he, even though he took the thing he wanted the most, smiled at satoru who was looking at him in this pathetic situation where he didn't even have an arm and was covered in blood. Yes, he had no bad things to say about his best friend if he was the one making you happy.

—Told her i wouldn't attend the wedding. You must understand why, huh?

Satoru tried his best not to let his serious and professional expression fall at Suguru's words. He seemed as if he was so calm, but he knew what he was thinking. The white haired man simply kneeled down in front of him.

—She used to like you too.— He spoke in a low voice.—A year before we started dating. Remember when she started to wear ponytails? Asked me what your type was and i said that because i didn't actually know.

Suguru's eyes darted towards his friend's, looking for the slightest clue that would indicate that he was lying. He wasn't, he knew that gaze.

—Why are you telling me that?

—Thought you would want to die with a happy thought. I know you still..

"You still love her" he wanted to say, but suguru's chuckle didn't let him continue. Satoru saw the widest smile he could have seen in his best friend's face since years and years ago. He laughed and laughed, forgetting about the pain he was feeling at that moment. More than feeling like he lost a chance, he felt glad; not because he didn't even realize it, but because of the fact that if you liked him once, that would only mean you had looked at him. It was okay, because you laid your eyes on him and he was chosen by you. He was worthy enough to be liked by you, and he felt his younger self scream of joy inside of him.

That made him even happier, because It means that maybe, in another universe, he gets to make his dream come true and finally date you withouth having to worry about ruining your friendship. In another universe, maybe he gets to be the reason of your happiness. A universe with no curses, where you two live separated from the world and live a married life with children.

Yeah, nothing could make him happier than that.

So he closed his eyes and rested his head on the wall, relaxed and ready to accept the fate his friend was going to give him. His smile didn't ever fade, grateful for what Satoru told him.

—At least curse me a little at the very end..

—AUTHOR'S NOTE: honestly not really happy with how i've written this fic, i was kind of rushed. However, hope you liked it!

It's not edited, so let me know if there are any mistakes.

[gardengirl222]

Babe ily and that is why I need you to write jj fucking reader in chokehold (this is not an ask but a plea)

omigod sexyyyy yes yes ofc! (ignore any spelling mistakes lol)

jj and his chokehold!! `ᥫ᭡ ˑ ִֶָ 𓂃⊹

you and jj had been at it for a while now, as mean as he can be sometimes, he was actually trying to be as gentle with you as he can. he had you bent over on the bed, your face smushed against your clean pink bed sheets and one of your pretty manicured hands reached behind you holding his hand.

"you're such a good girl." he groans, pounding your little pussy from behind. "fuck. so good. so good."

you mewl into the sheets as your cunt pulses around your boyfriend's dick. "y'feel good babydoll?"

when you don't answer due to being totally cock drunk he lets go of your hand and slides his tanned arm under your neck, his big warm bicep squishing your cheek, trapping you in a strong chokehold.

"need ya t'answer me, feel good?" your cunt squeezes him harder as stretches you out.

“uh huh, feel really good jay jay” you whine as you feel jj squeeze the arm that had you in the chokehold.

"aww babe, you're droolin' on me." he cooed with fake pity. you momentarily snap out of your haze and look down onto the sheets to see your saliva dripping down, probably also covering your chin and jj's arm.

"goin' dumb on me huh?"

he kisses the back of your ear and down your neck, as he starts to pick his pace back up and continue to ruin your pussy. the heat of his body and his sweat intoxicating you, he tightness his hold around your neck and tries not to be so rough but he just can’t when you're drooling and clenching around him like that.

"feels- too much jay!" you cry softly.

“shhsh” he shushes you softly, hoping that will keep you from whining that he's going too hard.

“holyshit- go on an'cum for me so i can fill you up. cuhmon." he rambles as his pace gets faster and sloppier, slipping his other hand around your waist to rub your little clit hard.

“ohmygod!” you scream, cumming around his dick leaving a white ring of your cum on the base of his shaft, and with that, he holds you up just by the headlock since you no longer have the strength to hold yourself up at all.

"gonna fuckin'- knock you up at this point…" he breathes and fills you up with his thick hot cum. jj's thrusts start to slow down and lets you out of the chokehold so he can put his hands on your waist to pull out gently. still dizzy from your orgasm, you feel your boyfriend turn you around and lay your back down on the bed.

he bends down to inspect your spent pussy leaking both of your cum, and holds your legs open with his large hand gripping your thigh, the other hand sticking in two thick fingers to plug you up and keep you from leaking anything out.

"gentle!" you mewl at how your super sensitive pussy is clenching around his fingers.

"thaaat's what im doin', you just relax and let me do what i gotta do." he gives your thigh a light smack and then presses a little kiss to the spot he just hit.

ᥫ᭡˚₊‧⁺˖

[doctorbitchcrxft]

Provenance | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader (Eventual)

Warnings: canon violence, canon gore, j e a l o u s y

Word Count: 6703

A/N: Taglist will be closing at the start of season 2! if you aren't currently tagged, and you'd like to join, please please let me know within the next two posts!!

Series Rewrite Masterlist

You gripped your beer tightly watching Dean getting a girl’s number across the bar from you. 

“(Y/N), if you hold that thing any tighter, you’re gonna break it,” Sam snorted. “What’s your deal?”

You looked back at Sam but were unable to pull your eyes from Dean and his new “friend” for longer than a few seconds. “Nothing.” You took a swig of your drink.

“Are you sure you don’t know how you feel about Dean?” the brunet taunted. 

You shot him a glare. “Shut up.”

He snickered in response and returned to looking over the papers in front of him.

You waved Dean over, who held a hand up behind the woman’s back to get you to wait. You gestured again and his smile dropped. He said something to her quickly before making his way back over to you. 

“I think we got something,” Sam told his brother. 

Dean grinned over his shoulder. “Oh, yeah, me too. I think we need to take a little shore leave; just a little bit. What do you think, huh? I'm so in the door with this one.”

You rolled your eyes. “So, what are we today, Dean? Rock stars, army rangers?”

“Reality TV scouts,” he grinned at you, ignoring the bite in your voice. “Looking for people with special skills. I mean hey, it's not that far off right?”

“If by ‘not far off’ you mean ‘completely off the mark,’ then you’re spot on,” you deadpanned.

Dean shot you a look while he turned to his brother. “By the way, she's got a friend over there. Possibly hook you up. What do you think?”

“Dean, no thanks, I can get my own dates,” Sam responded to his question.

“Yeah, you can, but you don't.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

Dean shook his head. “Nothing. What you got?”

“Mark and Ann Telesca of New Paltz, New York were both found dead in their own home, a few days ago. Throats were slit. There were no prints, no murder weapons, all—” He trailed off as his brother looked back at the women at the bar. 

“Dean!” you snapped your fingers at him.

He turned back. “Huh, what?”

“No prints, no murder weapons, all doors and windows locked from the inside,” Sam continued.

“Could just be a garden variety murder, you know, not our department,” Dean answered.

“No. Dad says different.”

“What do you mean?” Dean’s interest was piqued at the mention of his dad.

You pointed at the map. “John noted three murders in the same area of upstate New York. First one here in 1912, second, right here in 1945, and the third in 1970. Same M.O. as the Telescas. Throats slit, doors locked from the inside; the whole nine. Now, so much time passed that nobody checked the pattern. Except for your dad. It’s frustrating how much better he is at this than me sometimes,” you muttered at the end of your sentence.

“Alright, I'm with ya. It's worth checking out. We can't pick this up ‘til first thing though right?” Dean asked, trying to contain his excitement.

“Yeah,” Sam answered.

“Good.” Before you could stop him, Dean was off to the two women again.

You were fuming; staring daggers at him and downing the rest of your drink.

Sam snickered at you. “Let’s get you out of here before you end up killing one of those girls.”

“Nah, I’d kill your brother. They didn’t do anything wrong,” you responded, helping Sam pick up the papers scattered about the table. “How ‘bout the Telescas’ house?” you asked.

***

You and Sam headed back to the motel you were staying in to research the history of the Telescas’ home. You sprawled out across Dean’s bed with your laptop, and Sam sat on his bed with his laptop.

“Finding anything?” you asked him.

“Nope. You?”

You shook your head. “Nada.”

He shut his laptop. “So? You wanna talk about it?”

You shut yours, too. “About what?”

“Dean?”

“Oh, hell no,” you snorted.

“You two are made for each other,” he deadpanned at your boxed-up emotions.

“Fuck off, Sam,” you retorted. “What about you? Still not ready to jump back into the dating pool?” You snuggled into the blankets on Dean’s bed, reveling in his scent emanating off them.

He shook his head. “No, I don’t think so.”

“What was she like?” you asked after a moment.

“Who?”

“Jessica. You never told me much about her.”

He sighed. “She was just… the best, man. You two would’ve gotten along great, honestly. She was—” he grinned sadly at the thought of her, “—so smart. So beautiful. Quick, witty, and…” he shook his head. “I was looking for wedding rings. Few weeks before she...”

You smiled sadly at him. “She sounds amazing.”

“She was,” he responded. A quiet settled over the room.

“Don’t you think she would’ve wanted you to be… I don’t know, happy? Do you think she’d want you to move on? It’s been almost a year,” you said. “Jesus, I’ve known you guys for almost a year now," you realized.

He chuckled before going quiet again momentarily. “I think she would. But Jess… I don’t know if I’ll ever be fully over her. She was my best friend, y’know?”

You nodded. “I get it. I’m glad you had that with her, though. Sounds like you really loved each other.”

“We did.”

You and Sam went silent once more, and you succumbed to the tiredness of your limbs and mind. You were so comforted by the scent of worn leather, Dean’s cologne, and whiskey, that you slept better than you had in years.

***

When you woke up the next morning, Sam was standing over you, shaking you gently. You popped up and grabbed his wrist, twisting it and putting a hand to his throat. “Hey, hey,” he tried to calm you down, “Dean’s back.” 

You released him immediately. “Sorry, dude. Uh… reflexes,” you laughed awkwardly.

“It’s okay. Dean does that, too.”

The man in question stumbled into the room tiredly. “Move your asses. Let’s go.”

***

You and Sam had just swept the Telescas’ house for EMF while Dean slept in the car trying to get over his hangover. When you returned to the car, you beeped the horn. Dean shot up a foot in the air and groaned. 

“Man, that is so not cool.” He adjusted his sunglasses and leaned back against the car door. You and Sam climbed into your seats and began to explain what you had been up to.

“We just swept the Telescas with EMF. It's clean. And last night, while you were, well, out—” Sam trailed off.

Dean’s smirk made your stomach drop. “Good times.”

“—we checked the history of the house.”

“Nothing strange about the Telescas, either,” you said, swallowing your feelings.

“Alright,” Dean’s gravelly voice came, “so if it's not the people and it's not the house, then maybe it's the contents. Cursed object or something.”

“The house is clean,” you said.

“Yeah I know, you said that.”

“No, no, it’s empty. No furniture, nothing,” you explained.

Dean turned back to you. “Where's all their stuff?”

***

You felt so out of place in the swanky auction house the Telescas’ belongings had been brought to. Even the Impala looked like an outcast in the parking lot full of McLarens and Corvettes. 

You and the brothers wandered around the auction house, and you wrapped your jacket tightly around yourself.

“Consignment auctions, estate sales. Looks like a garage sale for Wasps if you ask me,” Dean commented. He took some food from a tray table as a man came up behind you.

“Can I help you?” the man questioned. 

You wheeled around to face him.

“I'd like some champagne please,” Dean said in a mock posh voice.

You could’ve killed him. “He’s not a waiter.”

Dean cocked an eyebrow at you, and you held out your hand to the man. “I’m (Y/N) Dewitt. This is Sam and Dean Connors. We’re with Connors Limited. We’re art dealers.”

The man didn’t give you the courtesy of a handshake. You fought the urge to make an inappropriate comment.

“You. Are… art dealers,” the man said, clearly having difficulty grasping that concept. “I'm Daniel Blake, this is my auction house. Now, this is a private showing, and I don't remember seeing you on the guest list.”

“We're there, Chuckles, you just need to take another look.” Dean, of course, talked through a mouth full of food.

You shot a sharp look at Dean as he took a glass of champagne off the tray. He turned and walked off, and you followed him.

“Can you chill out?” you asked him.

“What?” he asked through a mouthful of champagne.

You rolled your eyes. “You know what I’m talking about. I don’t like this crowd either, but relax.” You noticed a painting just beyond where you and Dean were talking. It was of a family in an American Gothic style; presumably from the early 1900s. The family contained three young girls in frilly dresses, a man with a gaunt and creepy face, and a woman you assumed was the mother seated in a chair.

“A fine example of American Primitive wouldn't you say?” a woman’s voice called from behind you.

You turned to the place the voice came from to find an extremely good looking woman in a sleek black dress with glossed lips descending the staircase. You noticed Dean beginning to ogle her as Sam answered her. “Well, I'd say it's more Grant Wood than Grandma Moses. But you knew that, you just wanted to see if I did.”

The woman smiled as she approached you. “Guilty. And clumsy. I apologize. I'm Sarah Blake.”

“I’m Sam,” he said. “This is my… brother, Dean.” Dean was still stuffing his face with food from passing trays. “And our friend, (Y/N).”

“Dean. Can we get you some more mini-quiche?” Sarah questioned.

You snorted. You liked her.

“I'm good, thanks,” he smiled through a full mouth.

“So, can I help you with something?” she asked Sam. You knew she liked him; she was giving him the same look you often gave Dean.

“Yeah, actually. What can you tell us about the Telesca estate?” Sam asked her.

She grimaced. “The whole thing's pretty grisly if you ask me, selling your things this soon. But Dad's right about one thing, sensationalism brings out the crowds. Even the rich ones.”

“Is it possible to see the provenances?” Sam asked.

The man from earlier came up behind you. “I'm afraid there isn't any chance of that.”

“Why not?” you asked.

“You're not on the guest list. And I think it's time to leave.”

You rolled your eyes, dropping your polite disposition. “Don’t have to tell us twice.”

“Apparently, I do,” he said.

“C’mon, Dean,” you said, dragging his arm out.

***

You and the brothers found a decently priced motel and approached the rooms you had been assigned.

“Grant Wood, Grandma Moses?” Dean scoffed at his brother.

“Art history course. It's good for meeting girls,” Sam replied simply.

Dean unlocked the door to his room and chuckled. “It's like I don't even know you.”

You walked a little further down to the room next to theirs and unlocked it only to find a gaudily outfitted room full of obnoxious disco decor. The "do not disturb" hanger was even of John Travolta’s silhouette from Saturday Night Fever.

“Huh.” You dropped your bag off and headed back to the boys’ room.

“What was… providence?” Dean was asking as you entered the room.

“Provenance,” you corrected. “It’s like a biography for a painting. You use ‘em to check the history of the pieces; in this case, to see if they have a freaky past.”

“Alright, professor,” Dean taunted you. “Well, we're not getting anything out of Chuckles, but Sarah…” he smirked at his brother.

“Yeah, maybe you can get her to write it all down on a cocktail napkin,” Sam smirked back.

“Not me,” Dean laughed.

You shot a look at Sam, too.

He seemed only mildly horrified. “No, no, no, pickups are your thing, Dean.”

“It wasn't my butt she was checking out,” Dean snorted.

You giggled despite yourself.

“In other words, you want me to use her to get information,” Sam deadpanned.

“Sometimes you gotta take one for the team. Call her,” Dean instructed his brother.

Sam rolled his eyes, but took out his phone. You weren’t sure when he had gotten her number, but he left about an hour later to take her out to dinner.

You and Dean sat in awkward silence for a bit.

“So…”

“So…”

You went silent again. 

“What’s goin’ on with us, (Y/N)? You’ve barely spoken a word to me this whole trip.”

You huffed. “Nothing.”

“Obviously, it’s not nothing.” Dean held your challenging stare.

“Seriously, drop it, please,” you said.

“Fine. You wanna go get some food?”

You smiled despite yourself. “You know I do.”

You and Dean found a crappy diner with deliciously greasy burgers to stuff your faces with. 

“So, how ‘bout you, sweetheart? Why don’t you ever go out?” Dean asked.

“On dates, you mean?”

He nodded.

You nibbled on a fry. “I’m just not one for hookups. I can’t take ‘em,” you admitted. “You, though, are king of the unattached drifters.”

He chuckled. “What’s wrong with hookups? 

“I get too attached, which kind of defeats the whole purpose,” you replied. “The idea of being intimate with somebody I don’t even know makes me want to throw up.”

“Why? You’re gorgeous. Anybody would kill to get with you," he said casually.

You ignored the way your heart swelled in your chest. “It’s not that, it’s just…” you sighed. “I’m, like, allergic to vulnerability.”

“I get it,” Dean chuckled. “You know by now I’m not exactly the best with it, either.”

“Oh, yeah, you’re worse than me,” you quipped. “You look like you’re gonna throw up any time you have to tell me you’re sorry or something like that.”

“Maybe it’s just your face,” he retorted.

“Hey!” you giggled. “You can’t call me gorgeous one minute then tell me looking at me makes you sick the next.”

He chuckled. “I just did, so…”

“Whatever, Winchester. What is it about hookups you enjoy so much, anyway?”

He shrugged and took a bite of his burger. “Sex is just fun, I guess. Always helps me blow off steam.”

You scoffed. “I’m sure it does.”

“I’m serious! Helps me take a break from… all this.” He gestured around him. 

“That’s why you have hobbies, Dean. Sex is not a hobby.”

“It can be! You draw, Sam reads, I fuck."

“Well, get a better one,” you scoffed.

“What would you suggest I do? Knitting?”

You rolled your eyes. “No, just… something a little more wholesome, maybe. You said it yourself, it doesn’t always make you feel great.”

“Never should’ve told you that,” he responded.

“Well, ya did, so.”

He snorted at you. “It’s frustrating how well you know me sometimes.”

“Oh, look at that, another crumb of vulnerability from Mr. Closed Book.”

“That’s the best diss you could come up with?”

“Hey, it’s not easy being effortlessly funny all the time,” you retorted. “It’s a lot of pressure.”

***

When you and Dean returned to the motel room, you pulled out your whetstone to sharpen your knives.

“Who you plannin’ on carvin’ up, sweetheart?”

“Haven’t decided yet,” you answered.

“Remind me not to piss you off,” he remarked.

“You do literally all the time,” you quipped. “You’re lucky you’re still in one piece. If you give me yours, I’ll sharpen ‘em, too.”

“Thanks,” he said. He handed his knives over to you. 

Sam burst through the door at that moment holding a stack of papers. “Got ‘em.”

“So she just handed the providences over to you?” Dean questioned.

“Provenances,” you corrected.

“We went back to her place, I got a copy of the papers—”

Dean raised his eyebrows expectantly. “And?”

“And nothing. That's it. I left.”

“You didn't have to con her or do any… special favors or anything like that?” Dean questioned.

“Dean, would you get your mind out of the gutter, please?” the younger brother scoffed.

“You know when this whole thing's done, we could stick around for a little bit,” he suggested.

“Why?”

“So you could take her out again. It's obvious you're into her, even I could see that.”

Sam ignored his brother. “Hey, I think I've got something here.”

You headed over to Sam’s seated position at the desk and looked over his shoulder at the papers. “ ‘Portrait of Isaiah Merchant's family, painted 1910’,” you read off.

“Now, compare the names of the owners with my dad's journal,” Sam said.

Dean pulled it out. “First purchased in 1912, Peter Simms. Peter Simms murdered 1912. Same thing in 1945. Oh, same thing in 1970.”

“Then stored, until it was donated to a charity auction last month. Where the Telescas bought it,” Sam continued.

“So what do you think? It's haunted? Or cursed?” you asked.

“Either way, it's toast,” said Dean, getting up from his bed.

***

Under the cover of night, you and the brothers broke into the auction house. You were consistently impressed with and sexually frustrated by how easy scaling tall fences and gates were for Dean. 

“Come on!” Dean urged you. 

You disarmed the security alarm, wearing gloves to avoid leaving fingerprints. “Go ahead,” you whispered. 

Dean picked the lock at your cue. You shone your flashlight ahead of you searching for the painting. When you found it, you and the boys were in and out within minutes. You and the boys had clearly been breaking and entering for years. You found it comical almost how good you were. You brought the painting out to a field behind the arthouse and set it alight.

Dean dusted off his hands. “Ugly ass thing. If you ask me, we're doing the art world a favor.”

***

Dean banged on your door the next morning. “We got a problem. I can't find my wallet.”

You opened it. “How the hell do you lose your wallet?”

“I think I dropped it in the warehouse last night.”

“Fuck, dude, that’s bad.” You started pulling on your boots as he paced around the room.

“Yeah, I know. It's got my prints, my ID— well, my fake ID anyway. We gotta get it before someone else finds it. Come on.”

You and the brothers hurried around the auction house searching for the wallet. Sam was clearly frustrated with his brother until he caught sight of Sarah.

“Hey guys!” she smiled.

You wheeled around at the sound of her voice and attempted to act cool.

“Sarah! Hey,” Sam breathed. 

“What are you doing here?” she asked.

“Ahh, we.... we are leaving town and, you know, we came to say goodbye,” Sam responded.

“What are you talking about Sam, we're sticking around for at least another day or two,” Dean grinned as he strolled up to the two. He took his wallet out of his pocket and shot a look at Sam. “By the way, I'm gonna go ahead and give you that $20 I owe you.” He turned to Sarah. “I always forget, you know.” Dean chuckled and you grinned as he held out the cash to his brother. Sam took it and glared at him. “Well, we’ll leave you two crazy kids alone, I gotta go do something… somewhere.”

“Smooth, Dean,” you told him as you walked away from Sarah and Sam. The two of you headed back out to the Impala and sat in it waiting for Sam. When he returned, he was frantically saying the painting was back in the auction house.

“I don't understand. We burned the damn thing,” Sam rushed out.

“Yeah, thank you, Captain Obvious,” Dean remarked. 

“Alright, we just need to figure out another way to get rid of it. Any ideas?” you chimed in.

“Well, um, in almost all the lore about haunted paintings it's always the painting's subject that haunts 'em,” Sam began.

“Yeah. So we just need to figure out everything there is to know about that creepy-ass family and that creepy-ass painting. What were their names again?” 

“Merchant,” you answered. “I say we find us a bookstore.”

***

And so, that was where you headed. You found a proprietor whose personality was interesting, to say the least. You found his quirk had a bit of charm to it.

“You said the Isaiah Merchant family right?” he asked you.

“Yeah, that’s right,” Sam said.

You and Dean were flicking through a book with pictures of guns in it. The proprietor laid a book of newspaper clippings on the table in front of you. “I dug up every scrap of local history I could find. So, are you folks crime buffs?”

“Kinda. Yeah. Why do you ask?” you responded.

He held up the newspaper article before him. It talked about the sinking of the Titanic, and just next to it, read “Father Slaughters Family, Kills Himself.”

“Yes. Yeah, that sounds about right,” Dean replied.

“The whole family was killed?” You tilted your head.

“It seems this Isaiah, he slits his kids' throats, then his wife, then himself. Now, he was a barber by trade. Used a straight razor,” the proprietor explained.

“Why'd he do it?” Sam questioned.

“Let's look. Ahh... ‘People who knew him describe Isaiah as having a stern and harsh temperament. Controlled his family with an iron fist. Wife, uh, two sons, adopted daughter…’ “ he skimmed on. “Yeah, yeah, yeah… ‘There were whispers that the wife was gonna take the kids and leave.’ Which of course you know in that day and age, um, so instead, old man Isaiah, well, he gave them all a shave.” He drew his hand across his throat and made a noise to go along with it. You and Dean joined in laughing with the proprietor.

“Does it say what happened to the bodies?” asked Dean.

The proprietor shook his head. “Just that they were all cremated.”

“Anything else?” you asked.

“Yeah. Actually, I found a picture of the family. It's right here. Somewhere. Right— here it is.”

It was a picture of the painting, but something seemed off to you. 

“Hey, could we get a copy of this please?” Sam asked the man. 

He nodded, and returned a few minutes later with it.

***

You and the boys sat at a table in the motel room and looked over the copy of the picture. 

“I’m telling you,” you started, “The picture at the auction house, Dad’s looking down. Here, dad’s looking out. The painting changed.”

“Alright, so you think that Daddy dearest is trapped in the painting and is handing out Columbian neckties like he did with his family?” Dean questioned.

“Well, yeah, it seems like it. But if his bones are already dusted, then how are we gonna stop him?” Sam asked.

“Maybe other things changed in the painting, too. Maybe it could give us some clues,” you answered.

“What, like a Da Vinci Code deal?” Sam asked.

“Maybe,” you shrugged.

Dean looked down at you, confused. “I’m lost. Still waiting for the movie on that one. Anyway, we gotta get back in and see that painting.” He walked over to his bed and laid back, crossing his arms. “Which is a good thing ‘cause you can get some more time to crush on your girlfriend.”

Sam huffed. “Dude, enough already.”

“What?” he responded.

“What? Ever since we got here, you been trying to pimp me out to Sarah. Just back off, all right?” he said defensively.

“Sam, relax,” you told him.

“Well, you like her don't you?” Dean pushed.

Sam threw his arms up and looked to the ceiling.

“Alright, you like her, she likes you, you’re both consenting adults…” Dean trailed off with a smile.

“What's the point, Dean? We'll just leave. We always leave,” came Sam’s frustrated response.

“Well, I'm not talking about marriage, Sam.”

Sam snarled angrily. “You know, I don't get it. What do you care if I hook up?”

“ ‘Cause then maybe you wouldn't be so cranky all the time,” Dean answered calmly.

Sam stared at him and huffed before looking away.

“Look, I’m not crazy about hookups either, but maybe it would be helpful,” you suggested.

“And this isn't about just hooking up, okay?” Dean continued. “I mean, I think that this Sarah girl could be good for you. And... I don't mean any disrespect, but I'm sure this is about Jessica, right? Now I don't know what it's like to lose somebody like that, but... I would think that she would want you to be happy.” Sam’s eyes welled with tears as his brother continued to talk. “God forbid, have fun once in a while. Wouldn't she?”

“Yeah, I know she would,” Sam responded softly. “Yeah, you're right. Part of this is about Jessica. But not the main part.”

“What’s it about?” you asked.

He wouldn’t answer you.

“Well, we still gotta see that painting, which means you still gotta call Sarah, so…” Dean trailed off.

Sam picked up his phone and cleared his throat. Dean shook his head and closed his eyes, settling back on his bed. 

“Sarah, hey, it's Sam… Hey, hi… Good. Good, yeah. Umm. What about you?... Yeah good, good, really good.”

Dean opened one eye and looked at his brother. “Smooth.”

You suppressed a laugh. 

“So, ah, so listen,” Sam continued. “Me and my brother were, uh, thinking that maybe we'd like to come back in and look at the painting again. I- I think maybe we are interested in buying it… What?!” 

At Sam’s tone, you and Dean snapped to attention. 

“Who'd you sell it to?” Sam stood up. 

Dean rose and came to stand next to you.

“Sarah, I need an address right now,” Sam urged her.

Once she’d given it to you, you and the boys sped away in the Impala to an upscale neighborhood. You and the boys were surprised to see another car parked right outside the building: Sarah’s. 

“Sam, what's happening?” she asked as you and the boys ran up the front steps of the house.

“I told you, you shouldn't have come,” he responded.

“Hello, anyone home?” Dean banged on the heavy front door.

“You said Evelyn might be in danger; what sort of danger?” Sarah asked Sam frantically.

“I can't knock this sucker down. I gotta pick it.” Dean crouched down in front of you and you moved over to the windows, banging on them with all your might.

“What are you guys, burglars?” Sarah yelped.

“I wish it was that simple. Look, you really should wait in the car. It's for your own good,” Sam told her.

Dean got the door open and you followed him inside quickly. 

“The hell I will. Evelyn's a friend,” she said, trailing behind you and the boys. “Evelyn?” She moved over to the elderly woman sitting half-turned away from you. Something was wrong and you knew it; the woman’s gaze seemed completely empty. “Evelyn? It's Sarah Blake. Are you alright?” She touched her shoulder gently. 

“Sarah, don't. Sarah!” Sam told her. 

Evelyn’s head tipped back, exposing her slashed throat.

Sarah jumped back in horror and screamed. Sam put his arm around her and led her out of the room. You and Dean stared up at the painting before following the younger brother out of the house.

***

Back in the motel room, you and Dean clacked away at the keys on your laptops while Sam paced in front of you. A knock on the door stirred all of you from your thoughts. Sarah stormed into the room and brushed past Sam.

“Hey. You alright?” he asked her.

“No, actually, I just lied to the cops and told them I went to Evelyn's— alone— and found her like that,” she answered, wheeling around.

“Thank you,” Sam nodded. 

“Don't thank me. I'm about to call them right back if you don't tell me what the hell's going on. Who's killing these people?”

Sam looked back at you and Dean, and you shrugged.

“What,” he told her.

“What?”

“It's not 'who'. It's 'what' is killing those people,” he explained.

Sarah was still looking at Sam like he was insane.

“Sarah, you saw that painting move,” he sighed.

The woman began to pace. “No, no. I was— I was seeing things. It's impossible.”

“Yeah, well, welcome to our world,” Dean grinned.

“Sarah, I know this sounds crazy, but we think that that painting is haunted.”

Sarah laughed humorlessly but had tears in her eyes. “You’re joking.” She looked between you and the Winchesters. “You're not joking. God, the guys I go out with.”

“Sarah, think about it. Evelyn, the Telescas, they both had the painting. And there have been others before that. Wherever this thing goes, people die. And we're just trying to stop it. And that's the truth,” the brunet told her.

“Then I guess you'd better show me. I'm coming with you,” she said matter-of-factly.

“What? No. Sarah no, you should just go home. This stuff can get dangerous and… and I don't want you to get hurt,” he admitted.

“Look, you guys are probably crazy, but if you're right about this? Well, me and my Dad sold that painting that might have gotten these people killed. Look, I'm not saying I'm not scared, because I am scared as hell, but I'm not going to run and hide either.” Sarah strutted over to the door. “So are we going or what?” She walked out.

“Sam?” Dean said. “Marry that girl.”

***

You and the boys returned to Evelyn’s house to scope out the crime scene a little further. Sam picked the lock to let you, his brother, and Sarah inside.

“Uh, isn’t this a crime scene?” Sarah protested.

Dean smirked. “You've already lied to the cops. What's another infraction?”

Once inside, you and Sam got the painting down from off the wall to examine it. 

“Aren't you worried that it's gonna kill us?” Sarah asked.

“Nah, it seems to do its thing at night. I think we're alright in the daylight.”

You took the copy of the painting out of your pocket. “Sam, check it out. The razor: it's closed in this one, but it's open in that one.”

“What are you guys looking for?” she asked.

“Well, if the spirit's changing aspects of the painting, then it's doing so for a reason,” Dean explained.

“And look, the painting in the painting,” you pointed out. “Looks like a crypt, or a mausoleum or something.” 

Dean grabbed a thick glass ashtray and used it as a magnifying glass. You ignored how your body came alight as he wound his arm around you to reach the painting. “Merchant,” he read out.

***

Your next stop was a graveyard. Several, in fact. You stepped over gravestones carefully to avoid disrespecting the dead even further.

“What, are you superstitious?” Dean asked.

“A little, actually. I think I’m in such deep shit with the spirits already; I don’t wanna make it worse,” you laughed.

“You are somethin’ else, woman,” he smirked. “This is the third boneyard we've checked,” Dean addressed your group. “I think this ghost is jerking us around.”

Sam and Sarah talked amongst themselves behind you and you and Dean walked a bit ahead.

“Over there,” you said, pointing to a mausoleum. The group followed you into the mausoleum where you found four urns in front of little glass-fronted boxes on one wall. On the opposite, there were five brass nameplates. 

Sarah looked at one of the boxes containing a little porcelain doll with brown hair. “Okay, that right there is the creepiest thing I've ever seen.”

“It was a sort of tradition at the time,” Sam told her. “Whenever a child died, sometimes they'd preserve the kid's favorite toy in a glass case; put it next to the headstone or crypt.”

Wind blew in the mausoleum, sending a chill down your spine.

“Notice anything strange here?” Dean asked.

“Ah, where do I start?” remarked Sarah.

Sam snickered. 

“No, that's not what I mean. Look at the urns,” said Dean.

“Yeah. There’s only four. Where’s the dad?” you questioned.

***

You and Dean discovered that Isaiah’s body had been buried in that same cemetery away from the rest of his family. You returned there that night with Sarah in tow. 

You stood watch with Sarah while the boys dug the hole down to Isaiah’s corpse. 

“You guys seem to be uncomfortably comfortable with this,” she said.

Sam climbed out of the hole laboriously. “Well, ah, this isn't exactly the first grave we've dug. Still think I'm a catch?”

You giggled when Dean’s shovel tapped something hard. “Think I've got something.” He cracked the coffin open to reveal Isaiah’s rotten bones. You helped him out of the ground and began pouring salt and kerosene over the body. 

“You've been a real pain in the ass, Isaiah. Good riddance.” Dean tossed the match he’d struck down on top of the body. 

“God, I will never get used to that smell,” you commented.

“What? Burning flesh?” the older Winchester turned his head to you.

You made a face and scrunched up your nose to which Dean just smirked at you and chuckled.

***

You returned to Evelyn’s house soon after to make sure the job was complete and bury the painting. You and Dean remained outside and told Sam to go in with Sarah. You and Dean smiled at each other before turning the radio up. A love ballad played loudly through the speakers, and Sam turned to the two of you. You both snickered at the “what the fuck” gesture he was giving you. Sam motioned for the two of you to cut the music. You sighed and turned it off.

Before you and Dean could say a word to each other, the door slammed shut behind Sam and Sarah. You and Dean jumped out of the car and ran across the lawn, trying your best to unlock it. 

“Guys! Hey! Is that you?” Sam called from inside.

“Sammy, you alright?” the older brother asked. Moments later, you got a call from Sam.

“Tell me you slammed the front door,” you said after you answered.

“Nope, it wasn't me. I think it was the little girl,” he told you.

“The little girl? What girl?”

“What’s he saying?” Dean interjected, leaning close to your ear and the phone.

“Yeah, she's out of the painting. I think it might've been her all along,” Sam said.

You snorted humorlessly. “The dad was trying to warn us all along. He was looking down at her the whole time.”

“Hey, hey, hey, let's recap later all right? Just get us out of here," the younger brother rushed out.

“Well, Dean’s trying to pick the lock, but the door won’t budge.”

“Well, knock it down!”

“Okay, smartass, just let me get my battering ram,” you remarked.

“(Y/N), the damn thing is coming!”

“I know, I know, just hold it off til we figure something out. Get some salt or iron or something,” you responded. “Stay on the phone with me!”

Moments later, you heard Sam say to himself, “What kind of house doesn't have salt? Low-sodium freaks.” Another minute or so went by before he spoke back into the phone. “Uh, (Y/N), give me a sec, don't go anywhere.”

You and Dean began to walk around the outside looking for an alternative entrance. A bit of yelling and crashing was heard on the other end of the phone. “You okay, dude?”

“Yeah, for now,” he responded.

“How’re we gonna waste her?” you asked.

“I don't know, she was already cremated. There's nothing left to burn.”

Dean got close to the phone again. 

“Then how's she still around?” you challenged.

“There must be something else!” Sam went silent on the other end, but you could faintly hear Sarah’s voice.

“(Y/N), Sarah said the doll might have the kid's real hair. Human remains; same as bones.”

“The mausoleum,” you and Dean said in unison. 

“Hang tight, Sam,” you said, snapping your phone shut. You and Dean sprinted back to the car, and Dean drove as fast and as wildly as he possibly could.

“One of these days, your driving’s gonna fucking kill us all,” you said, gripping the leather of the seat next to you and the door. 

“Not now, (Y/N),” he responded evenly, driving even faster. He plowed straight through the fence of the cemetery and drove right up to the mausoleum. You and Dean jumped out of the car and hurried into the building.

Dean pounded the door of the glass box containing the doll with the butt of his gun, and then went to walk out of the mausoleum. “Come on, Dean,” he grimaced. “Cover your eyes!” He told you. He shot at the box, and you shielded your face as he did so. You leapt back into action and knocked away more of the glass with your hands, cutting them as you did so. You ignored the burning in your palms and took the doll out of its case. 

You held the doll’s hair over the lighter, which Dean was having trouble lighting. “Come on, come on!” he said. Thankfully, the lighter caught the hairs of the doll and sent it up in flames. You dropped it on the floor between you and Dean and watched the rest of the doll burn.

Dean pulled out his phone moments later to call his brother. “Sam, you good?” He breathed a sigh of relief and hung up the phone.

You looked down at your bloodied hands. Dean followed your gaze. “(Y/N), you maniac, what were you doin’ pawin' at that glass with your bare hands, huh?”

“It seemed like a good idea in the moment,” you mumbled.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, huh?” He guided you back to the car. He held your wrists and sat you down in the front seat of his car. He went to his trunk and returned a few moments later. He sat next to you and gingerly began wiping down your hands. You hissed and grabbed his hand at the pain. He looked back up to you and paused momentarily.

“Sorry,” you said.

“All good,” he responded and went back to work. He gently cleaned your wounds with an alcohol-soaked rag and began to wrap up your left hand. You watched as he worked, heart swelling at the kind gesture.

“Thank you,” you said. 

“You’d do the same for me,” he muttered.

“I would,” you affirmed, smiling. 

He picked a piece of glass out of your right hand. You hissed again. 

“I know, I know, I’m sorry,” he said. “This one’s probably gonna need stitches.” He handed you his flask. “Drink this.”

You did as told and took a sip, swallowing sharply as you felt the first prick of the needle in your palm. “I’m not trying to be a little bitch. I’m really not when it comes to pain,” you said. “I can finish stitchin’ me up on my own if you wanna get back to Sam—”

“No. Let me,” he responded authoritatively. He looked up through his eyelashes at you before returning his attention to your fingers. He ran his along yours and gingerly cleaned the cuts, giving special attention to the deeper ones before bandaging the exterior of your hands. You flexed them painfully.

“Thank you. Seriously,” you said softly.

“Any time,” he responded.

***

“This was archived in the county records. The Merchant's adopted daughter, Melanie. Know why she was up for adoption? 'Cause her real family was murdered in their beds," Dean explained to you. “Who'd suspect her? Sweet little girl. So then she kills Isaiah and his family. The old man takes the blame. His spirit's been trying to warn people ever since.”

“Huh,” you said. “Psycho bitch.”

He scoffed. “You know you’re talking about a kid, right?”

“Yeah. Psycho bitch all the same.”

You and Dean were waiting outside of the auction house for Sam to finish talking to Sarah. You and he leaned against the car, watching Sarah and Sam talking at the door. Sam turned away from her before turning back moments later. He grabbed Sarah’s waist and pulled him to her, kissing her deeply. 

“That's my boy,” Dean smiled.

“Alright, perv,” you remarked. You shoved him down into the car.

Series Rewrite Taglist: @polireader @brightlilith @atcamillanorrman @jrizzelle @insomnia-bookworm @procrastination20 @mrs-liebgott @djs8891 @tiggytaylor @staple-your-mouth @iloveshawn @jesstherebel @rach5ive @strawberrykiwisdogog @bruhidkjustwannaread @mxltifxnd0m @sunshine-on-marz @big-ol-boat @mgchaser @capncrankle @davina-clairee @chervbs @simpingdeadcharacters @nesnejwritings @stillhere197 @stephshaww @tearsforhan @take-it-on-the-run @iloveyou2mia @maxinehufflepuffprincess @ohgeehowdigethere @here-for-the-extravaganza @seninjakitey @berarenado @s0urw00lf @princessleahorgana @quarterhorse19 @rei0812 @isla-finke-blog @silverdoragon @karacaroldanvers @gayandfairycore @examishbookwyrm @more-espresso-less-depresso-og @mysticmyth @favoritefandoms27 @star-yawnznn @real-sharena-h

quite a few tags are broken; so sorry, my loves!! make sure you have my blog notifs on so you don't miss a chapter, and please let me know if ive misspelled your blog name!

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for refusing to hang out with my partner's family?

Me (26f) and my partner (26m) recently got a new place together. We've already been living together for a few years now. His family has been asking if they can come visit. He asked me if I would be okay with that and I said sure, I just won't be in the house when they're here. I'll go out with them to dinner or some public space but I refuse to spend time with them in my home or theirs.

To be clear, I do not like my partner's family. In particular I have bad history with one of his brothers (24m) who used to live with us and said some rude shit to me including comments about my body, belittling my interests, ignoring boundaries about shared spaces, and on top of that just being bigoted in every way you can think of. For example, I'm not white, he is, and when I called him out on making generally racist comments he deflected by saying they weren't about me so I shouldn't get upset.

Most of my partner's family is this same flavor of generally bigoted. I've gotten into arguments with them before. They're not completely horrible people but it's come to the point where I've since taken a step back and don't really interact with them much. My partner has a strained relationship with his family (even before I came into the picture though I realize I'm not exactly helping) but he still wants to have them in his life. I know they're important to him and support him maintaining his relationship with them. I just won't be a part of that.

My partner says it's awkward when I'm obviously distant and avoiding them. It makes his family feel bad. He says he understands my frustration but doesn't think it's proportional to the situation. Disagreements like this are common and not worth causing problems.

So AITA? Should I put more of an effort into hanging out with his family?

[kedreeva]

This is Eris (left, 2020) and her younger half-brother, Bismuth (right, 2023)

This is Citrine (left, 2023) and her full brother, Bismuth (right, 2023)

I've talked a lot about how breeding and care matters so hugely to these birds, but I think this is a really obvious example.

When it comes to choosing breeders, 99.9999% of breeders I've seen and spoken to are mainly looking at the males and how pretty their colors are, and largely ignoring the hens. "Any" hen will do- I RARELY see people being choosy. Maybe they don't know how to be, maybe they think it doesn't matter - the hens are not as flashy, so what difference could there really be? - maybe they just don't care, maybe it's hard to find nice ones anyway because people don't care. I don't know. Once in a while I see people going gaga over a nice spalding hen with a lot of color on her, but by and large, they're ignored.

These three birds share a father. Indie is a beautiful boy, and he held his color very well, but honestly his train carriage left a lot to be desired and he was pretty small compared to my own birds. Regardless, he made a few really nice kids, including Amber (Bug), Bismuth, and Citrine (The Trio). He also fathered Eris, Opal, and Onyx, though not with my hens and not on property.

And here's where we get to the point. This is Eris' mom, Sasha:

And here is The Trio's mom, Aurora:

Sasha was itty bitty, with a small head, and very short legs. She also didn't have particularly good color- almost none, if I'm being honest, and her train carriage was Not Great. Aurora, on the other hand, while not as leggy as her offspring (which is partially due to feed... I raised her from 3mo old 15 years ago when 'game bird feed' didn't exist and the recommended "best" feed option was chicken layer feed mixed with kitten chow... atrocious by today's standards), still has pretty good type and excellent color. She typically carries her train high, she's spurred, she's Big. She's also an EXCELLENT mother and broody.

On top of having Sasha for a mom, Eris was raised in a brooder, and later in a small pen, and on feed that was 18% protein (instead of the 26-30% they should be on). She didn't have the space early on to use her leg and wing muscles, and it shows in her type. Even though i got her when she was just a couple of months old, those first few months are crucial to their development. Feed and environment can only go so far though.

Anyway, you can see the difference in breeding and care here. Eris is short, stout, short necked, and her rump curves down. Her face, particularly her beak length, is short like her mother's. It's hard to see in the photo, but I assure you her neck lacing is thick/muddy. In contrast, Citrine has thin, clean lacing, she's nearly as leggy as her brother, her neck has richer and more purple color, and her rump does not curve down- you can see the bend where her tail begins and is held down. She's also quite slender/racy in body type, like a good game bird should be, rather than heading toward the stout body type of domestication.

I can tell people that hen choice and care/environment matters until I'm blue in the face, but honestly, I think having comparison photos really brings it home.

[apompkwrites]

the school-bound kingscholar || leona kingscholar

masterlist characters: Mwezi Miji Trio (OCs), Leona, Ruggie (platonic) genre: Angst contains: (Brief) Swearing, Possible OOC moments (depending on how you view Leona and Ruggie [mainly Leona]) summary: Following the admittance of Night Raven College's newest freshmen, both Kingscholars begin to come to terms with the newest changes in their lives. notes: I AM SO SORRY FOR DISAPPEARING AGAIN OTZ. Unfortunately, my lapses of writer's block and demotivation have only increased since I last posted. I'm trying to get back into the hang of posting things (as evident by my art account suddenly coming alive again). ALSO! As you can tell by the formatting, I'm actually writing with proper grammar on Tumblr now! Right now, I don't plan to go back to reformat the older chapters, but maybe once I find the drive to do it, I will! Thank you, everyone, for being so patient with me, I really appreciate it <3 parts: [og post] | [previous] | [next]

Leona felt something knock the air out of his lungs. To Ruggie, who stood right beside him in a robe that was a few inches too long, it was hilarious. Seeing the very prince (well, second prince) of the Afterglow Savanna lose his composure was enough to make Ruggie let out a quiet "Shyeheehee" under his breath before he ultimately straightened his posture under Leona's pointed glare.

Nothing could have prepared Leona to see (Name) again. Honestly, he had long since come to terms with the fact that his little sibling was missing, lost to the Outlands and likely a rotting corpse in the middle of nowhere.

He's lying, he could never come to terms with that, no matter how much he deluded himself.

But they were here. They were here and they were walking closer and they looked exactly the same as he remembered them.

Well, obviously, not exactly. But they looked so familiar and yet so different at the same time. Leona didn't even notice the tip of his tail swishing behind him until he heard one of his dorm members complaining about a tickling sensation against his ankles. And that only caused Leona to grumble under his breath and snatch the base of his tail to stop it from moving.

By the Seven, had they changed. They seemed bolder and more confident compared to the last time he had seen them. The way their shoulders were no longer hunched forward and instead rolled back in a pride strut he wished he could attribute to someone who had come to accept their own status or the way their eyes seemed sharper rather than soft and wide with innocence. And their hands. By the gods, what happened to their hands...? No, they had changed severely, akin to the way Leona recalled seeing the royal guards before and after their training.

Something had happened, that much he could figure out. And as much as he wanted to advance the board, reach out, and capture them like a king in a game of chess, he couldn't. Not when they were surrounded by a queen and two rooks.

"Ignore him," Nuru advised, although his words were more of a formality if anything. He knew how well you could handle yourself, but this was a unique situation.

"I know," you replied curtly, flipping your hood back on and sidling up to Nuru's right side. Jabori immediately flanked your other side in turn, followed by Jabali. It was a familiar formation, one that the four of you had cultivated for as long as you could remember.

"It doesn't hurt as much as I thought it would," you whisper. However, the sharp pain lingering in your chest said otherwise.

Student after student soon began trickling out of each coffin, repeating the painstaking process of standing in front of the mirror, listening to its spiel about their innermost workings, before joining whatever dorm they were assigned to. Until finally, finally--

"We're done with orientation and dorm assignments?" One of the hooded figures lamented, his hand perched prim and properly on his hip. If you didn't any better, you'd assume that he was royalty or nobility. But, judging from his scent alone, he wasn't.

"Well, that ceremony was as boring as ever," Leona yawned, covering his mouth with his sleeve as he turned on his heels, facing the mass of hooded figures now under his care. "I'm going back to the dorm. If you're in Savanaclaw House, follow me."

He went to take a step amidst the other chattering dorm leaders before the doors slammed open, the handles banging against the wall from the force at which it swung. Leona groaned in response, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Psst, Nuru," Jabali called from his spot beside Jabori, leaning forward to actually see him. "Are you sure this is the right place? We're actually supposed to find answers from..."

Jabali paused and motioned out towards the commotion now terrorizing the mirror chamber. The little gray cat scampered around the floor, setting fire to whatever he could in some strange show of physical prowess and magical ability. "...These people?!"

Nuru said nothing at first. From where you stood beside him, you could tell doubt was beginning to creep up behind him. Lucky for him, Jabori decided to take the lead.

"This is Night Raven College," he points out, pulling back the hood of his robe by a hair to peer over at his twin. "Pretty much everyone here, especially the dorm leaders, are adept at some kind of magic. I mean, look."

This time, Jabori pointed towards the commotion, his finger following the way that the redhead shot a spell in the cat's direction, materializing a red and black collar around its neck.

"It's the best shot we have," he concludes, nodding in support of Nuru. That single gesture instantly calmed Nuru down, his shoulders no longer hunched up and his wings relaxing behind him. You merely smiled and patted his forearm in response. Jabali, on the other hand, grumbled under his breath and crossed his arms in begrudging compliance.

"Fine. But I'm not gonna get along with 'em or nothin'," Jabali huffed, rolling his eyes. Jabori laughed lightly at his brother's annoyance while Nuru let out a single huff of air.

"I wasn't gonna ask you too, either," Nuru hummed, glancing at Jabali from his peripheral. "Same goes for both of you, (Name), Jabori."

"Copy that," you nodded, the quiet chuckle that seemed to bubble from your throat disappearing the second Leona turned to face you and the rest of the new Savanaclaw members.

"You heard the headmage. I'm headin' back," Leona grumbled and, without missing a beat, brushed past the crowd and headed towards the door. Another hooded figure, one who had been standing beside Leona the entire ceremony, let out an exasperated sigh before raising his hand.

"Savanaclaw! Follow me," he ordered, earning a few half-hearted "Yes, sir"s from the rest of the huddled crowd.

You had to admit, it was pretty entertaining watching Jabali and Jabori marvel at the size of the campus halls. And Nuru too, if only he'd have more obvious reactions rather than just a single flick of a wing or a tilt of the head.

While the halls were nothing compared to the Kingscholar home, it was still pretty big. If you were any smaller than you were now, you'd probably react the same way.

"No way they need these doors to be this big," Jabali murmured, lightly elbowing your arm and pointing at one of the classroom doors. Your eyes followed his finger and a snicker managed to escape you. He wasn't wrong, those doors were freakishly huge, both in height and width.

Jabali went to comment on something else before he stopped, his eyes drifting over toward the new mirror chamber everyone had been led to. The doors were held open to accommodate the crowd, letting handfuls of students walk towards a mirror and get sucked into it, the glass rippling as if took wisps of bodies and left nothing in its wake.

"Savanaclaw House! This'll be your only way in and out of the dorm," the same hooded figure that led you all here called out. He had hopped up onto the lip of the mirror's decoration, using one of the rib-like sculptures as an armrest.

"Hurry up and get in! The faster you do, the faster you'll get to claim your rooms," he snickered before skipping ahead of the first dorm member and hopping into the mirror.

The prospect of first come first served seemed to spur on the first years, causing a near stampede of people trying to get into the mirror first. Nuru hooked an arm around your waist while Jabali did the same with Jabori, the two of them finding a single break in the crowd to get away, Nuru through flight, and Jabali through scaling one of the pillars by the wall.

Lucky for the four of you, the mirror seemed to accommodate more and more people as the crowd diminished. Perhaps through how many bodies reached a specific threshold, you thought. Regardless of the magical mechanics, it allowed Nuru and Jabali to let you and Jabori down after a few minutes.

"So many people," you grumbled under your breath, earning a quiet chuckle from Jabori. Nuru and Jabali nodded at your observation before the four of you hopped into the mirror yourselves.

Immediately, the four of you felt the familiar searing heat of the sun beating down on your skin. It almost felt like home if not for the increased heat coming from the fire serving as lights just outside the dorm's entrance.

Jabali and Nuru were the first to shrug off their robes, the former because he finally had enough of the stuffy fabric, and the latter because the heat was already starting to congregate around his feathers. You and Jabori followed suit, although the two of you merely hiked up your sleeves and flipped down your hoods.

Nuru shook out his wings and let out a soft grunt, one of his feathers falling into the sand beneath your feet. Turning to look over his shoulder, he shot the three of you a soft, almost comforting smile.

"Off we go, then," he hums, waving for you all to follow. If it were anyone else, you three probably would've found offense to a command as expectant as that. But it wasn't just anyone else. It was Nuru, the Guardian, and your dear friend.

The inside of Savanclaw was nothing really to marvel at like the rest of the school's campus. It wasn't cramped, per se, but it was quite a bit more tight than to your liking. Luckily, the walkway opened up the building quite a bit with the roped bridges connecting each floor.

Nuru scanned the room for a moment before his eyes landed on a room on the top floor, tucked all the way in the furthest corner. You figured everyone else left it since it was so far and their mentalities were focusing on that first come first served promise your leader from before declared.

Nuru unfurled his wings and shot up past the bridges, making a beeline towards the unoccupied room. He didn't have to go that fast, of course, considering only a few students were lingering in the walkways who sure as hell weren't planning on making the long walk up there.

Jabali seemed to share their sentiment considering his frustrated "Damn it, Nuru" muttered under his breath. A long, drawn-out sigh escaped his lips before he trudged up along the nearest bridge, his hands shoved in his pockets and his robe slung haphazardly over his shoulder.

You and Jabori took a more relaxed walk up behind him, appreciating the familiar decorations that reminded you of your hometown. Of course, that appreciation turned into apprehension at the thought of Mwezi Miji now being unguarded by the main four.

What if something happened? What if they had sent word of an all-out war between themselves and the Dens and you hadn't heard of it since you all were knocked out in coffins? What if they were all already--

"On your right," Nuru called to you from the doorway, his hand shooting out to grab your shoulder. Ah, you had gotten distracted. Nuru shot you a concerned glance, his brows furrowed in the same way they always were when you got stuck in your head before he ushered you into the room.

Jabali and Jabori had already claimed their beds on the left side of the room, Jabali near the door and Jabori near the window. This left the entire right side open for you and Nuru.

The winged beastman glanced over at you, patiently waiting for your next move. You caught his glance and mustered up a small smile before heading towards the bed closest to the door. Nuru subtly lit up at your decision, a little skip in his step as he moved towards the window.

You managed to hold back a snort at his hidden excitement. He always loved the window spot. Maybe it reminded him of when he was small enough to fit through them back home.

"So, what's up with you and that new first year, huh?" Ruggie huffed as he walked straight into Leona's room, leaning down to pick up a discarded shirt and dropping it in the laundry basket. "I've never seen you react that way other than with them."

"Watch your words, Ruggie," Leona growls from the bed, his head already buried in his pillow. His back was facing Ruggie who still stood in the doorway, but with the way his ears were perked up, it was fairly obvious that he wasn't even close to sleeping.

"My bad," Ruggie snicked in response, holding up his hands defensively. "But, seriously, who was that? Someone I need to watch the pockets of? I mean, who else would it be if not roy--"

"Out," Leona demanded, his hand latching onto his pillow and launching it backward at Ruggie, the soft fabric turning into dust and scattering across the floor as he muttered the incantation under his breath. Ruggie yelped and scampered out of the room, throwing the door closed behind him before he could see the pillow disintegrate into sand.

Leona took a single breath through his nose before slowly sitting up. He rubbed at his face before reaching over to the desk placed beside his bed, his fingers curling around the drawer's handle and pulling it open.

Underneath notebooks thrown carelessly inside lay a single photograph. It was small, yet free of any creases. He lifted the books off of it before slipping the photo out, nearly cradling it in his palm.

Back when he first found the photo tucked neatly in one of his notebooks, he grimaced. It was an annoying keepsake, one that only served to remind him of the bothersome family waiting for him back home. But now...

Now the sight of his little sibling smiling ever so brightly while his older brother screamed in the background about a bug in his hair brought the smallest twitch of a smile to his lips.

taglist: @brokenncrown @help-meplz @destinationdesignation @rainys-personal-garden @kalims @sxftiebee @luxaryllis @auld-a @the-dumber-scaramouche @ayra2452008 @tinywho-man @spadecentral @justeclem44 @kenma-izhu @mulandi @sadimon @stormyovent0aster @sn00zl4x @f1fty-f1fty @bloomed-night-flower @madusas-girlfriend @b0nkers-papaya @arandomeroacher @randonamedcl @potabletable @meerpea @luvcalico @chlousp @prettyinblack231 @dindarasuum @elizaboba @ravenlking @reveristmain @lasignoramybeloved @poto-de-michi @sherryuki-callmeyuki @cadit-in-aestus-sidereum @valeriele3 @munchkinkazooie @venusdandy @Leviathansgamerbuddy @poorunfortunatesimp @yarnoverpullthru @potablee @sunnydaze4ever @anxious-chick @silvers-tongue @minteaspoon @kitty-chan33 @hornehlittleweeblet2 @letskeepitsimpleshallwe @atsuki-mitsuri @catgirlwannabe @miss-puregotti @havens-not-here @sacrificialwife1 @cherrykissesss890 @a-random-bored-person @shuriiiewrites @chaos-inperson @1midnightcoffee @mizucika @lunavixia @gasoline-eater @thesirenwashere @rainingdandelion @thomanok @BakabaneSimp @mariesakamari @steruberry @potatohuman04 @illnesscomm @blu3b3rri-p4yn3 @kahunap @turtleducker @BooPleg03 @twst-rui @rotting-nerium @devilfishcafe @marisely03 @angelthoughtz @valka-230 @kih-lux @honestlyyoungcandy

[uncharismatic-fauna]

heya, in regards to that ask requesting intersex/hermaphroditic animals for pride month to weed out ter.fs:

when you make those posts, please acknowledge that the animals in question are intersex (hermaphrodism is a different thing, species-wide instead of individuals like intersex (at least thats how i was taught)), and not trans.

intersex people have asked us trans folks so many times to stop calling intersex animals trans, because it just further contributes to the erasure and alienation of intersex people. we as a group have a history of using intersex people as a convenient "gotcha" or as proof that trans people are natural, without actually supporting or considering the intersex people were making use of, and ignoring that an animal is intersex to say that its trans instead, even if its just to be silly or just as a joke, does contribute to that. (im not saying you, personally, have done this, but that us trans people as a whole need to do better)

if its an animal that goes female to male or vice versa, ive not seen anyone have a problem with calling them trans, but if they are intersex (like the lionesses that start growing manes & roaring like males), i feel its important to respect and acknowledge them as such. i very much understand the desire to say an animal is trans or gay or queer, to show that we are not unnatural, but lets include our intersex siblings and allies in this as well, and call intersex animals what they are.

🩷🩵🤍🩵🩷 🫶 💛💜💛 trans-intersex solidarity forever

Hey! Thanks for sending this.

In the posts specifically about one species in particular, I do try to avoid calling them trans-- and please let me know if I've misworded anything. I am aware that gender is very much a human construct, and labeling hermaphrodite species as trans is inaccurate and can be seriously harmful for intersex people. Frankly, when I first started making posts about those species, I was hesitant to label them as hermaphrodite at all because I know how much weight that term carries in the intersex community. That goes double for species that are not traditionally intersex, like the lionesses with male characteristics.

That said, and as you've pointed out, I do include them in my queer pride collection because A: queer-intersex solidarity forever

And B: the existence of these species, along with those that display homosexual behavior, was denied for a very long time specifically because it legitimized both the queer and intersex communities. Even today there are plenty of people that don't want to acknowledge those parts of nature because it goes against what they believe is the "correct" way to be.

So yes, trans-intersex solidarity forever! 🩵🩷🤍💜💛💜 and again, I'm only human so if I get something wrong please let me know!

[raina-at]

Pride

Omg, you guys, it's the last one! Where did the month go!

A huge, huge thank you to @calaisreno for keeping is going the entire month, and a huge thank you to all of you for reading and writing and gushing and commenting and crying and making this more fun than it had any right to be. I'll miss this!

I did a Pride ficlet last year as a bonus ficlet because I missed two days. I had a lot of ideas for this year's, and maybe I'll post some of them as bonus ficlets through June, but for now, I say goodbye to May with John and Rosie.

--------

"Dad."

"Hmm?"

"Dad!"

John puts down the newspaper. Apparently this is a serious discussion. "Yes, love?"

Rosie throws herself into Sherlock's chair and contorts herself into a pretzel-like shape that can't be comfortable. "I'm...um..." It's apparent she doesn't quite know how to phrase her issue, because she's unnaturally hesitant. Sherlock's influence has made her shockingly blunt, while John's influence has made her shockingly foul-mouthed. Arguing with her is a joy. But now, very untypically, she looks confused and a bit lost.

"Ro, whatever it is, you can tell me," John says, leaning forward, a bit worried now.

"It's..." She sighs, looks down at her hands. "It's a bit personal?"

"Oh my god you're pregnant!" John blurts out, his momentary fear overriding his usually good brain-mouth-filter.

"Dad, what the actual fuck! I'm not fucking pregnant!" Rosie rolls her eyes so hard John wonders if she sprained something. "You know I'm on birth control. You went with me to get my first prescription, for fuck's sake."

"Accidents happen, my dear," John says, gesturing at his lovely daughter, who, light of his life, and joy of his world as she may be, was also very much an unplanned pregnancy.

"Fair enough," Rosie admits, deflating a bit. "Still."

"It wasn't a completely unreasonable assumption. You have a boyfriend, you're twenty, I'm assuming you're having sex."

"Please, dad!" Rosie exclaims, the tips of her ears turning red. "I really don't want to talk about my sex life."

"You think I do?"

Rosie makes a very Sherlock-like  'never mind all that nonsense now' gesture. "Anyway," she says, giving John a glare that tells him to shut up until she's finished. "It's actually kind of about Mark."

John nods, to let her know he's listening, but carefully and deliberately keeps his mouth shut, even as he's thinking, If he hurt you, I'll kill him so fucking dead so quickly he'll never know what hit him.

"It's... you know... he's... well, he's a boy," Rosie finally gets out.

John blinks a few times. Waits a bit. When it's clear Rosie won't be any more forthcoming about the issue, he dares to ask, "And?"

She looks down at her hands, studying them with unwarranted fascination. "I'm..." She sighs. "When did you know you were bisexual?"

John exhales audibly. Now he knows what this is about. In a family of mostly queer people, Rosie seems to have assumed she'd be some kind of queer as well. And if anyone knows how complicated identity can be, especially if it's weighed down by expectation, it's John. "Um. Quite honestly, I'm not sure I am."

Rosie looks up, surprised. "I mean. Mum. And Paps. Um. You know..." she makes a 'please fill in the gaps yourself' gesture.

"Look," John says, leaning forward and taking his daughter's hands. "I personally think labels are vastly overrated. If a word, or a label, or a phrase, helps you to better understand yourself, that's great. Use that label as long as it serves you, and if it doesn't anymore, use another one. As for me, I was raised in an environment where being different was bad. What kind of different you were exactly was completely beside the point. And I saw first-hand how the world treated your aunt, so I thought, best not think about it. I wasn't that attracted to men, it wasn't difficult to ignore. Until I met Paps, and you know how difficult he is to ignore."

Rosie grins. "Oh, yeah. So Paps made you bi?"

"No, you know it doesn't work like that. He made me... " John answers, smiling fondly at the memory. "Well, quite simply, he made me fall in love. He was—still is, of course—the most intriguing, gorgeous, infuriating, exasperating, fascinating person I've ever met, and I fell in love with him so hard, and so fast. But I wasn't ready, and he wasn't ready, and it took us years to get our acts together. And part of that was that we both couldn't accept a fundamental truth: The heart wants what the heart wants. Fighting against it only brings misery and destruction." He squeezes Rosie's hands. "So. Do you love Mark?"

She nods, her eyes shining with the truth of it.

"Is he good to you? Good for you?"

She nods again.

"Then who the fuck cares about anything else?"

Rosie's silent for a bit, apparently mulling over his words, still holding on to his hands. "So," she finally says, looking up from her joint hands with a smile. "You'll love me even if I'm straight?"

"Well, love, I suppose I can overlook this glaring character flaw. Also, you might meet a stunning lesbian when you're forty and she'll rock your entire world and turn everything you thought you knew about yourself upside down. And I want you to remember," he says, leaning in a bit more, looking deeply into her eyes, "I'm fine with everything, as long as you give me some grandkids first."

Rosie laughs and pushes him away. "Fuck off."

John gets up and makes his way to the kitchen. "So, sexual identity crisis over? You want to have some tea now?"

"Of course I want tea. But what you're saying, if I understand you correctly, is not to assume I'm straight just because I fell in love with a man?"

"I'm saying," John says, flicking the kettle on, "is that it doesn't matter, love. Gay, straight, pan, bi, ace, all these labels are useful if they help you understand yourself. But if you feel boxed in by a label, don't use it. Use another one. Use none at all. Let nothing ever keep you from knowing and understanding your own heart. That's the only thing that matters. I might be bi, who knows. The important thing is that I love Sherlock with all my heart, and that I made a commitment to him. Everything else is just noise."

Rosie is quiet for a bit, looking thoughtfully at the fire crackling cherrily in the hearth of 221B. "You're getting soft in your old age, Dad," she finally says, with a grateful smile.

John hands her a mug, drops a kiss on her head. "Love you too, dear," he says, smiling into her hair.

----

Don't forget that I'm collecting these ficlets here on AO3, and don't forget to check out the wonderful collection of May prompt ficlets as well. I know I'm already looking forward to reading all of them again.

Tags under the cut as usual.

@calaisreno @totallysilvergirl @jrow @peanitbear @jolieblack @meetinginsamarra @helloliriels @keirgreeneyes @lisbeth-kk @friday411 @givemesherbet-blog-blog @weeesi @thalialunacy @thegildedbee @dapetty @salmonsown

[thewertsearch]

NEPETA: :33 < […] i know for a FACT that you are still f33ling b100 (h33h33) from losing aradia […] NEPETA: :33 < it may purrk you up to know that i had a dream about her during my last catnap! […] NEPETA: :33 < yes, she had these purrty wings and a splendid hood, i think she might have b33n cosplaying much like friska has b33n! […]

Derse is gone, so Nepeta presumably met Aradia in the Furthest Ring's dream bubbles.

Really, it's a bit of a no-brainer that Aradia would end up there. Her session's in tatters, and she's clearly not returning to the Veil, so where else can she even go?

NEPETA: :33 < she was so happy, just like she used to be, and she said she would s33 you soon!

Me: "Ok, maybe I'm being too much of a downer. If he's lucky, Equius might survive the coming-"

Aradia: "Equius is about to enter Homestuck's afterlife."

EQUIUS: D --> That's a nice thought, and thank you for sharing it EQUIUS: D --> But it was only a dream, and will surely have no consequence in reality […] NEPETA: :33 < are those f33lings i an detecting with my wiggly whiskery nose? EQUIUS: D --> Maybe NEPETA: :33 < then we must take this to the pile, scratching-posthaste!!! ;33

This is sweet, but in light of what I'm increasingly sure is about to happen, it's also a little heartbreaking.

These two never had much screentime together, and it's becoming increasingly obvious that they never will.

Honestly, this is kind of a look. I actually think she wears those glasses better than Equius himself.

EQUIUS: D --> :33 < The e%posed belly commands to be scratched […] NEPETA: :33 < D --> RAWR, HULKING BRUTE NO OBEY COMMAND, TOO STRONG FOR TOUCHY CUDDLY STUFF PURR USUAL! BPP EQUIUS: D --> :33 < The scruffy haired, saucer eyed smart alec takes issue with the tone of the girl currently posing as said hulking brute EQUIUS: D --> :33 < She/he wonders if he/she appurreciates that the pawerful nobleman currently meow%querading as her/him would be more than happy to accommeowdate said cuddly stuff, outrageous STRONGNESS purrmitting

Just tell her you're having fun, dude! Tell her how much she means to you, and how much you unironically enjoy your roleplay! It's the last chance you're ever going to get!

NEPETA: :33 < equius, dammit! why do you always have to make this so cerebral! […] NEPETA: :33 < […] you dont always have to announce who you are purrtending to be in every line! and you dont always have to point out that its just purrtend! […] EQUIUS: D --> I was having fun EQUIUS: D --> The line about the belly scratching was e%ceptionally playful, and I am to be commended EQUIUS: D --> You will commend me, I command it NEPETA: :33 < yes yes, ok youre right. that was really great! […] EQUIUS: D --> I think I'm out of material though EQUIUS: D --> I don't actually know that much about cats

How one can be Nepeta’s moirail for any length of time and still be ignorant about cats is a greater puzzle than twenty pen-pals combined.

[kandlewick]

since its taking so long, im gonna drop a preview of my leona's ''i'll dry the villain's tears'....... this one is special because i unfortunately decided mid writing that i wanted it to be romantic but alas that means i had to scrap a lot of twst lore to fit my narrative hghfg so think of this one as an au to my usual entries. an interest check. these entries were MEANT to be strictly platonic but a few of them (leona, MAYBE azul and malleus (between lilia and the reader)), just gave me so many ideas.

SO IT IS UNFINISHED! its 4k words but still unresolved unless people like, want me to scrap twst lore as heavily as i did in this lmao

i'll dry the villain's tears pt. 3.1415926535897

you get reincarnated into a role that became the breaking point of the villain's story and you, be it an unwillingness to cause them harm or a desire to survive, must work hard to make sure they grow into a better (or at least safer) person.

all entries are USUALLY to be read as platonic however this one wouldn't go away. All are USUALLY meant to be taken place in the TWST universe accurate to the game but this one is special because I love leona and he'd be so cool as a manwha love interest.

You awaken one day with perhaps the largest bump you've ever seen placed nearly perfectly center on your forehead. You don't remember how you got it exactly but the two princes never left your side (Falena would not stop crying and despite his claims of laughter at your expense, you can tell his brother was equally worried), only being dragged away by their tutor as soon as they let their guard down.

You looked down at the hands on your lap and clutched your fists open and closed over and over again. Gone were your long fingers and wide palms, instead you looked down at the chubby hands of a child no more than six.

From what your handmaiden had told you, the three of you had been playing spelldrive together and Leona, in his eagerness to best his brother, had shot the disk perhaps a bit too strong and instead of flying in to the goal, it had changed course and struck you hard enough to knock you unconscious for the rest of the early hours of the morning.

You remembered this event. It's what led to Falena's betrothed sticking closer to him and farther from Leona. What once was a well balanced trio had become a teeter totter with Falena and her on one side and Leona alone, unable to change anything with what little weight he had to offer.

Falena's betrothed; that was you. From the story you had read, the two were deeply in love and ruled the kingdom hand in hand towards a brighter future... all while unknowingly leaving the youngest brother in the shadows, forgotten and alone and desperate. You couldn't afford for that to happen.

You don't see the two of them until late that evening. Falena looked exhausted, like the tutoring had beaten any last bit of energy he could spare and with a loud yawn, had eagerly hopped into the cot next to you on your right. Leona was slow to join the two of you but settled himself to your left, his shoulder bumping yours as you turned to give him your attention, curiously returning the gesture. Leona matched your gaze, looking you over for any signs of pain before he opened his mouth.

"You look ridiculous," he spoke aloud, glancing at your bruised forehead. Subconsciously, you reached up and checked the tender spot and gave him an unimpressed look.

“I only look like this because you can’t shoot a disk right.” You huffed, choosing to ignore his presence, instead cuddling up to Falena who was more than eager to reciprocate, easily wrapping a comforting arm around your shoulder and nudging your chin in a friendly hug. “At least your brother is being nice to me.”

However, despite your teasing voice, Falena was quick to come to his defense, “Leona’s just not good at showing he was worried about you. You should’ve seen his face when he saw you fall over, I’ve never seen him run that fast in his life.” Leona rolled his eyes but made no response as his brother laughed, choosing to settle himself in your cot while closing his eyes, his tail lazily curling up behind you. Your beastman tail - you don’t know when you would ever get used to that - sat itself besides his, curling the two into a gentle hold. Leona glanced over at you from the corner of his one opened eye but chose not to comment about it.

Even at your young age, you could tell that Leona communicated in a particular way. His words may be harsh, but his actions were tender.

“Mmm, someone had to.” Leona muttered, nuzzling himself deeper into the pillows, “Falena was too busy crying about you to be of any help.”

Falena made no effort to deny the claims and sheepishly smiled at you, “He is not wrong, haha. I was very worried for you! You should’ve seen the maid’s face when they saw you passed out in the field!” He reached out and plucked your hand into his. When you looked at him, you could still see the red dotting his eyes from how hard he had cried. It was no wonder your body’s original owner had fallen so head over heels for this boy. While he and Leona were brothers, they couldn’t have been more night and day. 

“You shouldn’t have worried too much, Falena! I’m fine, really. Kifaji said that I should be fine in a few days.” You waved his worry off with your hand, gingerly pressing the tips of your fingers against the small lump, “There wasn’t a concussion or anything but he wanted to make s- Hm?”

Falena and Leona both looked up at you with wide eyes, both of their gazes making you feel small. You slumped in your seat and blinked at the both of them, silently feeling sheepish all of a sudden, “Is something wrong?”

“Why are you calling me by my name!” Falena looked almost scandalized as he let go of you, his hands floating at your sides like he was too scared to touch you, “Are you mad at me? Did I do something wrong?”

“Eh? Eh?”

“Looks like I hit her a little too hard.” Leona chuckled, watching in barely contained amusement as his brother’s soul practically floated out of his chest, “What happened to calling him, ‘husband’?”

This body’s former owner was a precocious little child, wasn’t she!!! You couldn’t believe the audacity, calling your ten year old fiance ‘husband’!

As required of any royal belonging to the Sunset Savannah, you were expected to build lasting relations with other tribes and honorable guests much like any other adult and as such, other than the two royal siblings, you were given many playmates. Some were older than you and some were younger, but they were many and varied and always tried to stay on your good side. And as such, they were exceedingly worried about you when you arrived late to your most recent playdate with a freshly bandaged head.

“My liege, what happened!” the youngest cried, quickly latching on to your arm, tears welling up in his shiny eyes, “Are you alright? Does it hurt?” 

You waved them off with your hand, a soft but embarrassed smile on your face. Their eyes watered, their large elephant beastman ears flopping up and down wildly as they looked you over head to toe for any sign of injury. You could hear them loudly sniffling as they bit back tears. They’ve always been a bit of a crybaby from what your memories could tell you. A shy, but friendly young boy… if a little bit of a hypochondriac. One of your older playmates rolled her eyes but you could tell she was worried by the subtle way she refused to leave your side, glancing over at you from the corner of her eye.

“I can’t believe Prince Leona would do something as clumsy as hurting his brother’s fiance!” One of your newer playmates huffed loudly, her eyes narrowed in annoyance, “Really, he’s lucky his brother forgave him so fast - ah! You as well, it’s good you forgave him too!! He doesn’t deserve it if you asked me!” She huffed loudly as she played with your toys, her jaguar tail batting the floor loudly. She paid no mind to your two companions sounds of offense, instead choosing to meet your gaze from over her shoulder.

You blinked at her, your eyes wide in confusion. Your two other companions matched your expression, the two of them surprised she would dare to say anything like that outloud. Leona hadn’t meant to hit you after all! You were playing…

Your newest playmate, so new you could hardly remember her name scoffed at the three of you, obviously annoyed you didn’t join her in her thoughts. “For real, who does he think he is? He’s the second son, he should be bowing on his hands and knees at your feet! You’re the future king’s fiance, he should be grateful he’s even allowed to play with you two! W-”

You don’t know what came over you and why you did it, but you felt your body react to her words, and somehow, your fist made contact with her cheek sending her sprawling on the floor. The sound of her collapsing was loud enough to shock you out of your stupor, a dull ache throbbing around your knuckles. She looked up at you with wide eyes as she cradled her cheek, you staring down at her with equally large doe shaped eyes. You couldn’t believe you had just done that!

“Leona is my friend.” Your lips began moving before you could even think. You were firm on this even as tears began welling up in your eyes. Ah, you sighed. Even if your mind isn’t young, your body still is shaking like a leaf. The hand you had punched the child with quivered from nerves. “Dont - don’t speak that way about him!” Your voice raised in pitch, “His brother and I love him very much!”

The little girl bared her teeth at you, unwilling to take your actions lying down, “How can you say these things? He hurt you!” She hissed.

“It was an accident!” You matched her tone, the sadness quickly evaporating into anger, “Sometimes accidents happen when you’re playing! He’s good and kind and would never, ever hurt me! Ever!”

Your shouting was quick to alarm the servants stationed outside your playroom’s walls. Kifaji was the first one in, eyes sharp as he immediately separated you from the other children, stepping in the way with his back to you. “What is going on here?” He questioned. There was no room for nonsense in his expression and his words matched that as he gazed around the play area. The girl cradled her cheek as she glared at you, unwilling to speak up. She may have made the mistake of bad mouthing the second prince in the presence of other children, but she knew better than to say those words around another adult that wasn’t her own parent. Kifaji raised his brow at her silence before turning to your gorilla and elephant companions, silently questioning the two. They shrunk under his glare and made no move to open their mouths instead choosing to nervously shuffle closer to you. 

You tugged on Kifaji’s robes, the fabric soft between your trembling fingers. Glancing over at you, he leaned down and crouched to match your gaze. While his eyes were hard and strict, you could tell that he cared about you and the princes. He would listen to you. You could trust him.

“She was talking badly about Prince Leona…” You whispered to him, “so I punched her.”

Kifaji made a face, but nodded his head slowly. You hoped he understood. With a heavy sigh, he gathered up his robes and picked himself up.

“Come along,” He gestured to the girl, “Let us find your parents. I believe the playdate has come to an end.” and with a gentle hand, he helped her up as she began dabbing away at her eyes but not before shooting you a glare from over her shoulder. You stuck your tongue out at her. As soon as the adults exited the room, you quickly reached up and wiped away the tears staining your cheeks before returning to your friends, the mood sufficiently ruined for the rest of the play date.

It wasn’t until later that evening that Kifaji returned, a cross expression on his face. The guards at his sides were quick to disperse as he approached you, his robes billowing out behind him like colorful plumage. With practiced precision, he kneeled down to your eye level and reached out, bringing your small hands into his. His rough hands itched against your soft ones.

“What you did today could have ended very poorly, my liege.” He spoke softly, but his tone was firm, “You must remember, your position here in the palace is not final. If you cause too much of a ruckus…”

Was the king’s advisor really telling you to ignore this? That you should let Leona be bad mouthed by those in power? You were quick to glare at the older man, ripping your hands away from him and taking a few steps back, eager to separate the two of you.

“I’m not going to let people say whatever they want about Leona.”

Kifaji, shocked, stared for a moment before narrowing his eyes, “This is what I’m talking about, my liege. You are too quick to anger. You must calm yourself. I am not saying you must ignore the problem, but what I am trying to say is, your position in the palace as Falena’s future spouse, is not permanent.”

You hated to admit it but he had a point. You bit your lip but said nothing, cowed under his words. It was the truth. If you wanted to protect Leona, despite having the best intentions, you couldn’t exactly expect to have the sway as an adult. You were a child and easily replaceable. A glorified playmate.

“That is why, my liege,” Kifaji brought himself to his feet, dusting off his robe with a flick of a wrist, “you come to me.”

You turned and looked at him, not expecting the protective glint to his eye. He nodded his head before continuing.

“I will make sure that these things are handled correctly without repercussions. As the king’s advisor, I am not so easily replaceable.” He chuckled, fixing his glasses with a precise motion, “I will admit I am not as… in touch with the other servants in the palace and diplomats are always so careful with their words around me, it’s difficult to gauge their true intentions but with you, they will surely slip up and speak more plainly then perhaps they should.”

You stared up at the man in awe. You couldn’t believe your luck! Kifaji was taking your side and was going to actively help you in your quest to project Leona. Maybe before he was never given the opportunity, never had the time to set aside to investigate. Maybe he never knew. Now, however, he was given the chance with you to defend the prince. You very nearly teared up but were quick to wipe them away as Kifaji laughed, his hand reaching down to ruffle your hair affectionately. 

And so the two of you were quick to act, swiftly cutting contact with merchants and dignitaries that shared less than favorable feelings for the second prince. You and Kifaji would have monthly meetings together with snacks courtesy of the king and his wife as you spoke of matters in the palace. You had a special role, scouting out and spying on maids and soldiers that gossiped in the servant’s quarters. Nobody expected anything when you even brought in your two playmates, Magani and Akut (the gorilla and elephant beastmen respectively) to join in on the spying. This carried on for several years as you heavily vetted all coming through the palace all without letting Leona see the work you pulled behind the curtains. All the strings and wires were yours to control and you were going to make good use of the opportunities you were given. 

But, for some reason, Leona never seemed to want to leave your side. While you worked on your schooling, he would sit and while away the hours under the light of the sun from his favorite perch right beside your desk. Even in this life he was a lazy lion, preferring the quiet you brought then the loud personality of his elder brother. Sometimes you would join him on his naps, your tails quietly intertwining in a silent embrace. It was a comforting feeling. Moments like this were always a relief after the hours you and Falena had to spend together in your diplomacy lessons. A lot was expected of you as the future queen of Sunset Savanna. There were many late nights where you both stayed up till the crack of dawn together, stubbornly unwilling to give up with tears in your eyes as you studied until your vision blurred. It wasn't an uncommon sight for Kifaji to find the two of you bundled up together with books piled at your feet in the early hours of the morning.

Afternoon lunch dates with Falena and Leona were also rowdy and fun. While Falena was always quick to stay by your side and fight for your attention, Leona was seemingly content with letting your future husband monopolize your time. It wouldn’t be uncommon for Leona to doze off while Falena tried to do ‘couple-y’ things with you

It was all perfect.

Until Falena was accepted into the Royal Sword Academy. 

“You’re… breaking our engagement?” 

[gardengirl222]

kinda need some 80s slasher jj pleaseee!! like maybe he tries to apologize but like reader avoids him and that gets him mad!! thank you angel!

oooh! absolutely!! i literally love anything 80s you have no idea, i love talking about it!! (ignore the spelling mistakes, i'm exhausted lol)

₊ ⊹ warnings! 18+ - non con, cock warming, blood, death, violence, obsession, squirting, slight breeding kink, gun mentions, dark!jj - ₊˚⊹

"it's almost 1 in the morning jj, go away!" you whisper yell at him, lightly pushing his shoulder to get him to leave and climb back down your balcony.

"i tried to talk to you all day. you kept walkin' away from me…what's up with that?" he whisper yells back, not budging, he walks closer to the balcony window as if he's going to enter your room.

"i was about to go to sleep jj."

"nah, your light was on." he shakes his head.

"go away please!" you plead with him, hoping it is enough to just leave you alone.

"hey, you're not scared a'me? are you? cause, you don't need ta'be. i'm still the same jj."

"you killed someone!" you back away from him, placing your hand on the handle of the balcony door.

"well okay, but i apologized that day in the car and i've been trying to talk to you and apologize again, you were the one who kept avoiding me." he reasons, holding the door open with his hand.

"i accept your apology, now please go!" you whisper yell again.

"nah nah nah…you don't mean it, i need you to know that i fucked up n'i'm sorry."

"that you killed danny?"

"no, that you saw that i killed danny…look your my frie- no your my girl and i had to do somethin' cuz that asshole was just-" you put your hand up to get him to stop rambling "jj stop." but he just takes the opportunity to push past you and walk into your room.

"never saw your room before…y'like janet jackson?" he laughs softly and points to the poster on your wall and then looks over at the cassette tapes on your dresser. "…and madonna huh?"

"jayjay my parents are gonna freak if they wake up and find a boy in my room!" you grab onto his arm, trying to drag him back out.

"ya' got any dirty movies?" he diverts his attention over to your little tv on the other side of your dresser.

"seriously! beat it!" he sighs dramatically and lets you walk him back over to the balcony. "fine. see ya tomorrow then?"

"yes. yeah…you will, goodnight," you assure him, watching as he nods, satisfied with your answer he climbs back down the side of your house.

you tried you best to smile at him when you happened to cross paths or make eye contact but you just couldn't help avoiding him, i mean he did still totally freak you out. you had just about survived the day without having to talk to him but then on your way back to your house you see him leaning against his truck, parked on the side walk. you decide to just pretend you don't see him and walk right past him.

"hold it." he grabs onto your arm tightly, stopping you from walking away. "…listen, i don't know if i was a total dip for apologizing cause the whole point was t'get you to stop ignoring me, and clearly the message was not received. " he squints, obviously not very happy with you.

"i was just super busy and i had a major test to study for so thats wh-"

"no no hey, don't worry about it babydoll, i know how you can make it up t'me," he loosens his grip on your arm and gives you a charming smile, dimples showing and everything.

"o-ohkay…what did you have in mind?" you begin to relax at how his demeanor has changed, hopefully, you think.

"rented this gnarly tape n'i wanted to watch it with you. your folks home?"

"no…they don't back tonight till 3 in the morning…big dinner benefit thing, they usually get drunk and stay really late into the night…" you ramble.

"right. great. i'll drive you home."

"ohkay jayjay…thank you," you respond shyly as if you two had just met and he was asking you on a date.

"so which movie did you rent?"

"its a surprise, think you'll reaaaally like it."

"i like most movies…want anything from the kitchen? water, beer…"

"m'good, i just put the tape in, cuhmon, i'll be gentle with you." he sits down on your bed and pats his lap for you to come over and sit on. you nod slowly and sit right next to him, so he grabs your waist and scooches you over onto his lap, your ass right up against his gradually hardening bulge.

"jj…what are you doin'?" you take your eyes off the tv and look down at his hand coming to flip your skirt up and feel that you're not wearing any panties, giving him full permission to rub on your pussy.

"shshsh, just focus on the TV, princess." you ignore his actions like an idiot and figure at least he's being gentle with you and focus back on the TV, the camera in a POV angle following a guy with his hands up defensively.

"what are we watching?…" you whisper, trying to push jj's hand away from your pussy, but obviously that doesn't do anything. he smacks your hand away and goes right back to touching you.

"it's a movie i made…see there that's your ex-boyfriend, talked him into the role," he whispers back, clearly very interested in what's on the screen…and playing with your pussy. the next thing you know you watch as your ex-boyfriend gets shot in the face and then shot more times in the chest, blood going everywhere.

"ohmygod jay-!" you scream, shutting your eyes and covering your mouth with one hand, while the other tries to get his hand away from you so you can get the hell off of him. he ignores your attempt and tightly wraps his other arm around you to keep you in place.

"holyfuck you're so wet." he laughs, dipping two fingers into your embarrassingly wet cunt, the intrusion making you mewl and turn your head away from the screen and the gory mess being shown.

"nah uh, keep watching." he tuts, moving his hand away from your princess parts and over to his jeans to pull his dick out to put inside you.

"i don't want to watch this anymore! i don't wanna-"

"don't care whatcha don't wanna do, worked hard to do this for you babe…so you're gonna sit here on my cock and watch the fucking movie i made for you." he grunts, lifting onto his dick, the stretch and fullness you feel is unreal, you have no choice but to sit there and soak his fat cock.

"no!" you cry, tears starting to gather at your waterline.

"yeah…she's likes it, she's squeezing me reaaaaal good baby. jj presses a wet kiss to your cheek and wraps his arms around you again to keep you there.

"turn it off, please! please!…"

"y'gonna quit ignorin me, cupcake?"

"uh huh…i swear just please!"

"it's almost over, keep watchin." but you just can't, squeezing your eyes shut you try to block out all the noise and just focus on not cumming on him, not wanting to give into him. yet, there's no use, cause now he's got his three fingers pressing down on your little clit, rubbing it fast and hard.

"jayjay!" you squeal, digging your nails into his arm that is around your waist, as you cum hard around his dick. when you blink your eyes open the tape has finished and you notice all the liquid sprayed on your sheets.

"oh ho…there she is, squirting on my cock like a dumb slut.” he smiles and presses a little kiss to your neck.

"not on birth control are you?" you can barely hear him over the ringing in your ears as he continues to softly rub your clit.

"yo, i'm talkin to you." he spits, slapping your cheek a few times with this big warm hand to get you to respond. a few more tears spill down your face and respond with a weak whisper. "no, m'not…m'not…"

"maybe y'should be." he grunts softly before dumping his huge warm load in you just from cock warming.