#And don't ask me about Malcolm

[mann-walter]

I think A Little Life would’ve been more enjoyable for me had the main character been either Willem or JB—well, first among equals because the book concerns the life of four people. Both are fascinating people in their own ways, endearing in the case of Willem. Because for me, Jude is too much. Of course, there are times when I love him, but he can feel like a fanfic character and an average fanfic at that. There’s no sense of balance with this character. Reading him is taxing and not in that enjoyment-of-angst kind of way.

[bluerose5]

Hawke and Carver opening the letters during the Family History quest, only to find a bunch of love letters written between Malcolm and Maurevar. They ask Leandra about it and the conversation goes something like:

[thedoctorsaysimwrong]

Malcolm meeting Zira and Crowley

" oops. awkward. "

timeline wise it's iffy at best how it would fit ( cause let's be honest, no way any of these two fall for jack as malcolm the way they do for jack 'cause malcolm sucks ) and i started writing a thing about what could make it work timeline wise but who cares, fuck the timeline.

but somewhere after coe jack comes back and he's grieving, he's not well, but he's not unhinged yet. he stays at the bookshop for a couple of weeks, maybe he tolerates months before he tells them that he needs to go back to traveling off earth's surface for a little while because he just can't get better.

and so they lose track of him for 40 years. canon wise, aziraphale and crowley do travel to america from time to time so either they did that for fun or malcolm needed something in soho, but they meet again 40 years later and it's just awkward. and it's different. and aziraphale can feel love, it's there ( he probably always felt a truck ton amount of love floating around jack cause the man loves everything intensely ), but it's under such amount of 'spooky' no no bullshit it's uncomfortable.

jack would try to make the conversation amicable but crowley would probably antagonize him and he would respond in kind, they'd just feed off each other's bitterness and anger at this point. and unlike aziraphale, crowley probably wouldn't be shy in calling out the dramatics and martyr / god complex.

and it's not that they don't feel anything for each other anymore it's just... you know when a friend you really love disappears and come back so different you don't recognize them and you don't know how to act with them or if it's just better to not renew the friendship? something like that.

also there's something to be said about "why did you go and lose yourself when you could have stayed with us and heal"... and they'd be right. but you know.

[incognit0slut]

was i stupid to love you?

in which a lingering glance at Rossi’s wedding threatens your engagement.

content: angst, 4.8k, takes place right after truth or dare (14x15), a lot of dialogue, mention of prison arc, emotional distress, relationship conflict, not proofread a/n: when was the last time you saw me write angst? exactly. this is inspired by malcolm & marie bc i really like the idea of having an argument while moving around the house (also disclaimer i have nothing against JJ i just like being dramatic)

The lock clicks open. The door swings with a creak. Your heels tap against the hardwood in a hollow rhythm that feels almost too loud. There’s a tightness in your chest, that prickling behind your eyes, and a familiar ache pressing up from the pit of your stomach, churning into a faint nausea that you try to ignore. You’re trying to hold it back.

Not here.

Not now.

Spencer doesn’t even look up. The keys slip from his hand with a soft clink as they hit the side table, and he turns away with a quiet sigh that reverberates deep in your bones.

“Are you hungry?” he asks, tossing a glance toward the kitchen. “Think we could order something?”

You trail after him, the sharp click of your heels echoing as you step onto the kitchen tile. “We just came back from a wedding.”

He’s rifling through the cupboard, his fingers brushing over the mismatched mugs and neatly stacked plates before he pulls down two glasses. “I barely ate anything at the reception.”

You watch him, biting back a response as memories flicker to mind. The slice of cake he’d poked at absentmindedly, washing it down with sips of water instead of real food.

It wasn’t hunger he seemed focused on tonight. No, it was his quiet glances across the room you keep on catching from the corner of your eye, and that conversation he’d had at the bar. The one where his posture softened, his gaze so intent you’d found yourself staring at the back of his head, trying not to read too much into it—and obviously failing.

“Why didn’t you eat?”

He shrugs, his back still to you as he fills the glasses with water. “I don’t know,” he says, sounding almost absent, like it’s something he hasn’t really thought about. “I didn’t get around to it, I guess.”

The muscles in your jaw ticks as you bite the inside of your cheeks.

Spencer turns, offering you a glass. “I was thinking of Chinese, or maybe we can check if that Thai place you like is still open.”

You take the glass from him, barely sparing it a glance before setting it back down on the counter. “Whatever you want is fine.”

A subtle crease appears between his brows. “You sure? You usually have some opinion when it comes to food.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“You don’t want to eat anything?”

You suppress a sigh. "No. I'm tired."

The soft amber of his eyes dims slightly as he studies you. There's a flicker of uncertainty passing through them before he nods. “Alright,” he concedes. “We don’t have to order anything.”

A faint, humorless laugh escapes you before you can stop it. It tastes bitter, a little unfair, but it slips out before you can pull it back, “You don’t have to change your plans on my account, Spencer.”

“I’m not changing any plans,” he responds. “I’m just making sure you have something to eat in case you’re hungry.”

Your shoes dig uncomfortably into your feet. You shift your weight, starting to pace a few steps back and forth. "It's dinner, you don't have to check on me for every little thing. Do whatever you like."

He blinks, looking genuinely perplexed. "What are you saying? I was trying to be considerate."

"Right. Considerate.”

There’s an unmistakable bite in your tone.

“Yes, because we like doing these things together," he observes, watching your uneasy pacing. "Am I missing something here?”

You shake your head. “Nope.”

"Honey."

The term of endearment lands softly, slipping from his lips like he believes it has the power to melt whatever tension has suddenly crept between you. But it only tightens the knot building in your stomach. It’s stirring the words you’re trying to hold back, tangling them somewhere between your chest and throat.

He calls your name this time, his eyes narrowing into sharp lines. “You’ve been awfully quiet on our way home, and now you’re… honestly, I don’t know why you're acting this way.” His voice dips with a tinge of exasperation. "What’s this really about?"

The words you’ve been biting back feel like a stack of stones in your throat, rising up, up, up, each one pressed tighter by the gnawing nausea in your stomach. You can feel them gathering, and before you know it, they tumble out messily.

“I’m just saying, don’t let me hold you back from getting what you want. I wouldn’t want to stop you from anything—or, god forbid," you add, letting your gaze drift away as if a little distance might soften the blow, “anyone.”

The soft, almost stifled inhale he takes is audible. You don’t even have to look up to see his expression shifting. You’ve known him long enough to recognize the way his shoulders tense, the way his breathing slows as he processes your words. You know his reaction by heart, yet right now, you wonder if saying this was a mistake, if this is the start of something neither of you can take back.

His fingers twitching at his side slip into your line of sight. He's angry.

Maybe this isn’t the time to start a fight.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

Your heels click softly as you turn.

“Forget it. I shouldn't have said anything,” you mutter, already moving toward the bedroom that’s been yours, too, for the past year. Although it feels strange tonight, like a space that belongs to someone else. A life you’re not entirely sure you belong in.

“No." His voice is somewhere behind you. “I think you should explain to me what you mean by that.”

You don’t respond, choosing instead to sink onto the edge of the bed, hands fumbling as you try to undo the straps of your heels. You twist the stubborn leather with more force. His shadow fills the doorway.

“Honey.”

Not again.

You decide to ignore him.

“Is there something you’d like to say to me?”

You tug harder at the strap. “No.”

He doesn’t buy it. “You’re clearly bothered by something.”

You shake your head, fingers still fumbling, the leather cutting against your ankle with each pull. “I’m just tired. Can we leave it at that?”

There’s a flicker of frustration in his gaze now, a crease forming between his brows as he studies you. He moves into the room. You barely have the chance to react before he lowers himself, bending one knee to the floor as he reaches toward the strap you’ve been fighting with. “Here, let me—”

“Don’t,” you interrupt, pulling your foot away. “I can do it myself.”

“I know you can. But let me—”

“I can do it myself!”

Your heartbeat thuds loud in your ears, each pulse feeding the frustration that’s wound its way up from your chest. He rises slowly, not a word passing his lips, but the tension radiates off him like heat. He’s close enough that his warmth presses against your skin, although it’s not the kind you usually find comforting. It’s almost suffocating.

You turn your focus back to the stubborn strap, your fingers trembling slightly as you struggle to grip it. Out of the corner of your eye, you catch him slipping off his shoes, one after the other, the soft thuds barely audible over the rush of your own heartbeat. He pulls off his suit jacket, carefully smoothing the crumpled fabric before hanging it in the closet. For a moment, it seems like he’s going to let it go… until his gaze drifts back to you.

You can tell his patience is fraying, and you’re proven right when he asks again, “What did you mean by that? When you said you wouldn’t want to stop me from anyone… what was that supposed to mean?”

You finally manage to tug the strap loose. The heel drops to the floor with a muted thump. “It was nothing.”

“I don’t think you’d say something like that if it was nothing.”

Your focus shifts to the other shoe. “Just drop it, Spencer.”

"How am I supposed to drop it when you're implying... whatever it is you're implying?"

You keep your eyes down, wrestling with the strap in silence. He cuts through the quiet before it has a chance to grow.

“Don’t do that,” he says. “Don’t brush it off like it’s nothing when it clearly means something. I need to know why you said that.”

You kick off the other heel and meet his gaze for the first time since you walked into the room. “You really want to know?”

He reaches for his bow tie, yanking it loose it with one hard pull. “Do I want to know why you’re giving me this attitude right now? Yes. Yes, I do.”

Oh. So this is going to be that kind of fight.

You hadn’t expected it to go here. Fights with Spencer are very rare, usually more a clash of misunderstandings that you both laugh about with limbs tangled between sheets by the time you’ve made peace. But seeing him standing there with the tie hanging loosely around his neck and his five o’clock shadow casting an even darker line along his jaw, it hits you differently.

This is real. And this time, you don’t know if brushing it off will fix anything.

“Fine, let’s talk about it then.” You rise from the bed, tension carrying you to your feet. “Emily’s speech tonight.”

His brow furrows, not quite a scowl, more a cautious crease as he processes your tone. “Emily’s speech? What about it?”

“What do you remember of it?”

There’s a slight pause, and you can tell he's clearly caught off guard by the question. “She mentioned how Rossi and Krystal are twin flames."

“Right. Two souls that are always meant to be together.”

His face is still marked by confusion, but there’s something else creeping in. A subtle tightening around his eyes tells you he’s starting to piece it together. “I don’t understand what that has to do with—”

“You looked at JJ the second Emily made that speech,” you cut him off. “Spencer, you didn’t even spare a glance at your future wife because you were too busy making eyes at the woman who’s apparently been in love with you all these years.”

There. You said it. The words that have twisted around your insides all evening are finally out. And maybe they taste a little bitter, but at least they're not choking you anymore.

A second passes, then another, and by the time the fifth heartbeat ticks by, he’s standing there with his hand on his hip.

“That’s not what happened."

“Then what was it?” you demand. "I sat beside you the whole day, you didn't even try to hide it."

“That’s not—you’re twisting things.” His hand moves through his hair, fingers digging in as his curls tumble forward onto his forehead. “And you know what happened that night wasn’t real. It was a forced confession. She was under duress, we both were. JJ and I are just friends.”

You arch an eyebrow. “You look at all your friends like that?”

His hand drops to his side. "I don't know what else you want me to say. JJ said what she did because she thought we might die. She has a family, and a husband who she loves. We already went through this, I don't understand why this is suddenly an issue again."

“Maybe I wouldn’t be bringing this up if you didn’t look at her tonight like you were ready to break up that marriage yourself.”

A flash of shock and anger crosses his features.

“That’s not fair,” he snaps, his voice sharper than you’ve heard in a while. “Do you really think I’d disregard everything I have with you because of a look? Because of a history that has never gone anywhere?”

“I don’t know what to think. It's not like it happened just once, I saw you looking at her the same way at the bar." You step forward, accidentally kicking your discarded heel as you move. "What were you two talking about, anyway?”

He lets out a tight breath. “She was checking in on me. She… we haven’t talked much since then.”

The corners of your mouth pull down. “Mhm. Another round of truth or dare?”

“I can’t believe you’re using that against me." His hair flops forward as he shakes his head, falling messily over his brow. "If there were anything unresolved with JJ, I would’ve said something. But I didn’t, because there’s nothing there."

“And yet, she’s always been an important part of your life, hasn't she?"

He tilts his head. "What are trying to say now?"

Your tongue darts out, briefly brushing your lips. You're not sure you should say it, but it feels like a door has swung open—a door to words that have been waiting for their moment.

You take a slow, deep breath, filling your lungs with as much air as you can.

“When you were in prison, you put her on your visiting list ahead of almost everyone else. Doesn’t that say something about where she stands with you?”

He exhales sharply, dragging a hand over the back of his neck.

“She’s part of the team,” he says, as if he’s trying to spell out something he’s already explained a dozen times. "There were strict rules, I already told you that only a handful of people were allowed to visit. It wasn’t like I could just put anyone on the list.”

“But you could’ve put me on there!”

The familiar burn of tears prickles at the edges of your eyes, but you blink them back, refusing to let them fall. An explanation or protest is poised on his lips, but you’re already moving, closing the distance with a single, decisive step. A finger lands on his chest.

“I was your girlfriend, Spencer. Were you that determined to keep me out? Was the thought of seeing me really so unbearable? Do you even understand how hard it was to sit at home, knowing you were locked up, feeling completely helpless? Do you have any idea how much I hated myself day after day because I couldn’t do anything to help you?”

Your lips quiver. You feel like your heart is about to leap out of your throat.

“I was out here, just… waiting. Wondering if you were okay, if they were treating you alright, if you even had someone to talk to. And meanwhile, she’s there, with you. Every single time, she’s the one who gets to be by your side.”

Your nail digs into the fabric of his shirt.

“So forgive me if I can’t just let that go. Because when it mattered, it felt like you didn’t want me to be there for you. And now… now I don’t even know if you need me the way you seem to need her.”

Your breathing turns shallow, each inhale catching in your chest. The tears you’ve been holding back are dangerously blurring your vision. You swallow the knot lodged in your throat.

“I need a minute.”

Without another word, you turn and walk out of the room, leaving him standing there in stunned silence. You slip back into the kitchen, leaning against the counter as you finally reach for the glass of water that’s been sitting there untouched. You take a sip, barely feeling the cool water on your lips, when you hear his footsteps behind you.

“You think I don’t want you in my life?” he demands. “You think I somehow need her more than I need you?”

You set the glass down. “What part of ‘I need a minute’ do you not understand?”

“You really expect me to wait quietly after you unloaded every doubt you’ve ever had about us?”

You life your chin up. “Yes, I do. I need space to think right now.”

“What more do you want to think about when you’ve already convinced yourself that I’m always going to fall short? Is it so hard to believe that you’re the one I want?”

“You want to know why it’s so damn hard to believe?” You turn towards him. “Because every time I try to let this go, there’s always something. A confession. That—that not-so-subtle look. And when those things happen, it reminds me that I’m not as close to you as she is. I’m fucking tired of feeling like I’m fighting for space in your life.”

“Do you think I want you to feel like that? Do you think I’d go through everything we’ve been through if you didn’t matter to me?”

“Then explain to me why I wasn’t on that list!” you cry out. “Explain to me why, in one of the hardest times of your life, you couldn’t make space for me?”

“Because I was trying to protect you!”

A heavy, dreadful silence falls between you. He takes a step back, his eyelids fluttering shut briefly, and when he opens them again, there’s a softness in his gaze that mirrors the gentleness now threading through his voice.

“I know it probably doesn’t make sense to you, and maybe it never will, but I couldn’t stand the idea of you seeing me like that. Living through it was hard enough, but having you there, seeing me so helpless… It would have crushed me. I didn’t want that to be your memory of me.”

His Adam’s apple dips as he swallows, a quick, almost anxious movement you’ve witnessed countless times.

“And when JJ came to see me,” he continues, “the way the inmates looked at her, the things they said after she left… it was disgusting. I couldn’t—wouldn’t—let that happen to you. I couldn’t live with thought of you being subjected to that because of me.”

You lower your head with a sigh. “I don’t care if they looked. I don’t care what they would’ve thought.”

“But I care,” he fires back, taking a step forward. “Because you mean more to me than anyone. All I wanted was to keep you safe, and maybe I didn't handle it right, maybe I made the wrong call... but it was only because I—" His voice drops into an even more gentle note. "Because I love you."

Your heart stumbles, an uneven beat that feels almost bruised, pounding hard against your ribs.

"I-I love you so much. More than I know how to put into words." The ache in your chest sharpens as his hands come up to cup your cheeks. "I don't like fighting with you. I hate it, actually. I hate seeing you look at me like this."

You also hate the way he’s looking at you. There’s a depth to his annoyingly pretty eyes that makes it impossible to hold up your defenses without feeling them crumble. You let your eyes flutter closed.

“Why don’t we… call it a night?” He suggests. “Let’s lie down. We don’t have to talk about this now.”

The blackness behind your eyelids does little to quiet your mind. Nor does his voice. Or his touch. Instead of offering peace, his presence throws every glance, every moment of tension from tonight into sharper relief.

You draw in a breath, trying to find some comfort in his palms against your cheeks. Yet, even this can’t smooth away the doubt that’s settled in. With a resigned sigh, you release the breath you’ve been holding along with the words that have been pressing at the back of your throat.

“You haven’t explained it to me.”

The shadows in his gaze seem to deepen when you open your eyes.

“What do you mean?”

“We’ve been going in circles, but you haven’t explained to me what happened tonight,” you say quietly. “Why did you look at her, Spencer?”

His thumb absently strokes your cheek in a way that feels more hesitant than reassuring.

“Be honest with me,” you press. “Was there a part of you, even the tiniest part, that still wanted something with her? Some small part of you that… wondered what it might be like?”

The silence between you presses in from all sides, broken only by the faint hum of the refrigerator and the distant, muffled ticking of a clock on the wall. It’s the kind of quiet that sharpens even the smallest sounds, yet his lack of response feels like the loudest thing of all.

You pull back from him with an incredulous laugh.

“Unbelievable.” The word barely makes it past your lips, then louder as you start to move, pacing the length of the apartment. “Unbelievable.”

“Wait,” he says, trailing after you, “I didn’t even say anything.”

You stop short by the couch and whip around to face him.

“You didn’t need to! You—you hesitated," you stammer, searching his face for any flicker of denial, but it’s there, plain as day, that split-second of doubt you caught. “That was already an answer.”

He inches closer. A hand closes in on you. “Please—”

You flinch, pulling back, and every muscle in your body tightens. “Don’t. Don’t touch me right now.”

His hand falls to his side. “Please… let me explain."

You watch his hand drop, fingers twitching like they’re not sure if they should retreat or reach out again, but he keeps them there, hovering in some invisible line you’ve drawn. He looks at you with those big, pleading eyes, and for a split second, you almost feel bad for him.

Almost.

A bitter sort of smile tugs at the corner of your mouth. "So now you want to explain?"

He takes that as permission, and his voice comes in low, almost cautious. "When I first started at the BAU, I had… maybe a crush. A passing thing, barely anything, really. But that was fourteen years ago.” His hand scrubs through his hair in a frustrated sweep. “Fourteen years."

Your brows pull into a frown. “Why am I only hearing about this now?”

“Because it was nothing,” he says, almost too quickly. “I was young, it didn’t matter. I didn’t think it was worth bringing up.”

“Oh, I get it now. All those old feelings came rushing back the night she confessed, didn’t they?”

He mirrors your frown, a visible line of tension etching itself between his brows as he protests, “It’s nothing like that.”

“Then what is it?” you press. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks a whole lot like you’re caught between us because some part of you is still hung up on what might’ve been with her."

He shifts uncomfortably, and you notice the muscles in his jaw clenching the moment his gaze falters, dipping away for just a heartbeat before he looks back at you.

“It’s not that I don’t know what I want,” he starts to explain. “I didn’t expect her to say those things, and, yes, it threw me off for a moment. But that doesn’t mean I’m looking back, or that I want her. I want you.”

You shake your head, feeling a tired sort of frustration settle over you, and walk over to the couch. The soft cushions give slightly beneath you as you sink down.

“If you really wanted me, this wouldn’t be happening. You wouldn’t have let her get into your head like that. And now, you expect to believe that none of it meant anything?”

He’s quick to follow, closing the distance in a few tense steps. “It’s not—” His hands flex open and close at his sides. “You’re acting like one single look tonight is enough to decide I’m not committed to you. Do you really think I’d let some confession I didn’t even ask for get in the way of what we have?”

“It’s not just about that single look. It’s the way she could say something and suddenly, you’re pulled back to something you swore you’d put behind you. How am I supposed to feel secure when she still has that power over you?”

“And what am I supposed to do, then? Apologize for things I don’t even feel anymore?”

You flinch at the sharpness in his voice. A low, frustrated noise rumbles in his chest when you don’t respond.

“You’re always going to question me no matter what I say, aren’t you?"

You glance over at him, catching the disheveled strands of hair falling over his forehead, and it pulls you back to that night he came home after that dreadful night. He’d walked in looking worn in a way you’d never seen before, his whole posture weighted down as if he was carrying more than just the fear of being held hostage.

You remember sitting with him on this same couch, fingers brushing his, and asking what was bothering him.

JJ said she loved me.

Your heart lurched, a quick, quiet ache that you tried to swallow down. Really?

Don’t worry. It’s not true.

But with that same haunted look in his eyes right now, you can’t help but wonder if it really was just a well-intentioned lie.

“One glance and you’re accusing me of things that are never going to happen,” he starts again. “Do you really think so little of me? After everything we’ve shared, you really think I’d betray you like that?”

In true honesty, you don’t believe he would ever cross that line. But the doubts still linger, fed by those small hesitations, the moments when his eyes seem somewhere else. It’s not that you think he’d betray you. It’s that a part of him might still be holding onto something he won’t let you see.

“It’s like you don’t know me at all.”

Now those words you might actually believe.

“Maybe I don’t,” you say quietly, eyes drifting to the ring on your finger. You twist it absently, remembering the night he proposed. How he’d stumbled over his words, his cheeks flushing as he tried to make the moment perfect but ended up rambling in that endearing, nervous way of his. You’d laughed, reassured him that it was exactly right, that you didn’t need grand gestures. All you needed was him.

And yet, you don’t think he needs you as much you need him.

A hollow ache settles around your hand as you slip the ring off.

“What are you doing?”

You stare down at the gold band in your palm, blinking back the sting of tears.

“Tell me what you’re doing.”

Panic. Desperation. There’s a sudden rush of melancholy in his voice, a heaviness that wasn’t there a moment ago.

You swallow the lump in your throat. “I don’t know,” you whisper. “I—I don’t know anything right now.”

His face crumples, and in a sudden, almost instinctive movement, he drops down to his knees.

“No, no, you do know me. I’m sorry… I’m so sorry. Isn’t this—” he stops, then dips his head, trying to catch your gaze. “Isn’t that what couples do? They argue, they mess things up… but they work through it, right? Right?”

You look down, feeling the cool weight of the ring pressing into your skin.

“Spencer…” you begin. “I trust you. I do, and I’m sorry if I made it seem like I didn’t. But… I need to feel secure. I… I need to know that I don’t have to wonder or worry about where I stand. I never thought you’d be the one to make me doubt that.”

There’s a sharp ache in your chest.

“I didn’t think it could hurt this much. Not from you.”

Your pulse ring in your ear.

“I can’t—” The words catch in your throat, a stinging burn rising as you force them out. “I can’t be your wife when I’m constantly questioning if I have all of you. When I feel like… there’s always a part of you that isn’t mine.”

“I’m yours, honey. I’m always yours.”

“I wish I could believe that.”

There’s a slight falter in his voice. “Don’t—please don’t do this—”

“I can’t keep pretending it doesn’t hurt.”

He falls silent, and for a moment, the only sound is the rough, uneven rhythm of both your breaths filling the space between you. Then, like something inside him finally cracks open, he sinks down, pressing his forehead against your lap. The sudden weight of him forces a broken sob from your throat.

“Please,” he begs, fingers clutching at your sides. His chin presses deep into your thigh. “Tell me how to fix this. I can’t— I can’t lose you.”

“Spence…”

“I love you,” he blurts out, the words tumbling from him in a rush. “I love you.”

But what is love, really? Is it just a word people reach for when they’ve run out of things to say, a way to patch over bruised hearts and broken promises? Or should it feel like something more solid, something that doesn’t leave you questioning or aching? You can’t even tell anymore.

You wonder, too, if maybe you’ve been wrong all along. If this feeling in your chest isn’t love but something dressed up as it, something that fills the gaps while slowly hollowing you out. Because here you are, clinging to a love that somehow makes you feel like you’re both needed and unseen. Everything and nothing all at once.

You feel like a fool.

“I want to go to bed.”

His head lifts from your lap, a flash of surprise darting across his face, as though he hadn’t expected you to say anything at all, let alone that. “Yeah, okay, let’s go to bed. We’ll… we’ll figure this out in the morning.”

“I’d rather be alone.”

The words hit him visibly. His mouth opens, an argument forming there, but he catches himself, letting the silence stretch before he nods slowly.

“Then… I’ll stay out here. On the couch,” he offers softly. “Just… in case you need anything.”

A pang cuts through you at the thought of him stretched out on the couch, his legs too long, his shoulders folded in to fit the cramped space. But the idea of sharing a bed right now feels impossible.

You reach down, holding out the ring towards him.

“No,” he says firmly, gently pushing your hand away. “Don’t do that. This… it doesn’t mean we’re giving up. It just means we need time. That’s all.”

You’re not sure if your mind will change in the morning. The ring presses into your skin, but finally, you close your hand around it, nodding faintly before you peel away from him.

The tears start the moment the bedroom door clicks shut behind you. It spills over in a jagged, helpless cry that sounds nothing like you imagined heartbreak might sound. It’s messy, a kind of aching grief that feels too big for your chest, clawing its way out with no grace at all. You can practically hear how pathetic you sound, and yet you can’t seem to stop.

Even when the hem of your dress trails across the floor. Even when you finally collapse onto his side of the bed. There’s no stopping you. With the ring sitting cold in your hand, your tears keep coming, soaking into the pillow as you cling to the last trace of him woven into the sheets.

[disasterofastory]

A shocking night (Brahms Heelshire x Reader)

A shocking night // Brahms Heelshire Masterlist Brahms Heelshire x Reader Kinktober 2023 - 2/14 Warnings: shower smut, a bit dub-c, dead bodies

Summary: You meet Brahms, the living one, for the first time.

It's so quiet you can hear the rapid beating of your heart as it tries to break free from the hold of your ribcage. Your chest heaves as you pant and gulp for air. Your lungs burn. You can feel the wild rhythm of your pulse at the tip of your fingers. It makes your limbs numb and frozen. It makes you stop from running and escaping this hellhole.

The entrance door of the mansion seems far away. Too far away.

Your eyes are on the man. He is the only one still alive. The other three lie on the ground, bloody and motionless. They chose the wrong house to break into. Your attention falls on them for a second before snapping back at the one who stares at you from behind his mask. The white but dirty porcelain is familiar. Too familiar.

"Brahms?" Your voice is high and panicked. At first, you think he doesn't even understand your question. He tilts his head to the side before nodding. His posture is still tense and ready to jump at any second if you dare to move even an inch. His broad chest moves up and down as he pants. The white shirt he wears is dirty and bloody, too. Everything is.

How is it possible? You heard about the history of the family who hired you. Malcolm told you about their son who died in the fire that still marks the outside of the house. That's why you were so accepting to take care of a toy. You had no idea what secret they hid among the tall walls of the mansion.

"Y/N?" Your heart stops beating for a second when a high, childlike voice pulls you out of your thoughts. Your eyes focus back on the man in front of you. "Yes?" You ask back, gasping. "Are you going to leave?" He asks. It's a dangerous question. You hear the silent warning underneath his words. "No, Brahms," you force yourself to speak. "I won't leave you." He nods. Even through the mask, you can see the satisfaction that your reply brings to him. "Did they hurt you?"

Did they hurt you? You have to think about his question. You don't remember. Everything happened so fast. In one second, you were asleep, and the next, you woke up at the sharp sound of breaking glass. You went to see what it was, and before you knew it, chaos ensued. Brahms broke through a mirror and killed everyone. Well, expect you.

He steps closer, and your back presses against the wall as you try to keep your distance from him. His hand lands on your shoulder, sliding over the curve until he reaches your neck. His touch is surprisingly gentle.

Oh, now you remember. One of the men grabbed your neck when they noticed you. Your head is still dizzy because of it. And because of everything else. "I'm fine," you tell him. "Please, Brahms." Tears gather in your eyes as you stand still in his hold. "Please, don't hurt me." The man frowns behind the mask as he moves his gaze from your neck to your face. Your face is wet from crying. Your eyes shine with tears and panic. He shakes his head. "If you are good to me, I will be good to you." His words do nothing to calm you down, and his thin voice makes you want to cry harder. How is it even possible? The boy, the man in front of you, should be dead. Taking a deep breath, you reach for his hand still on your neck. His fingers curl around your fingers instantly. "We have to do something with… them," you tell him, glancing at the lifeless bodies behind Brahms.

You are not even sure what you should do. Call the police? You are sure Brahms wouldn't let you, and you would end up in prison without a question. Nobody would believe you. But maybe being behind bars would be better than staying here.

"I will take care of them," Brahms says. His voice is normal now, and you are surprised at how good it sounds. "What will you do with them?" You ask him. "I will take care of them," he repeats his previous words, and you get the hint. "Okay," you nod. "Take care of them, Brahms." At your instruction, the man's posture straightens. He almost seems happy that you told him what to do. "I will go and make some tea, okay?" You ask him. He is not happy about letting you go out of his sight, but the promise of warm tea after he is done makes him relent.

You know this is your chance to escape, but you can't make yourself do it. You are too afraid. And too tired. You sit at the kitchen island for what it feels like forever. You hear Brahms moving around in the other room, and you can see his dark form outside, but the greenery of the garden hides what he is doing. Well, you have a guess, anyway.

"Are you done?" You ask him when he appears under the door of the kitchen. He is even more dirty than he was. His boots are almost black because of the mud outside.

You have to clean up everything tomorrow. You stop at the thought. What? There is no way you will stay and play nanny after this madness.

When Brahms nods, you push the other mug his way, and he sits down in front of you. "How will you-?" Before you can finish your question, he pulls on the mask, and you get a glimpse of his thick beard and lips. "Oh." For long seconds, none of you say anything. Brahms just stares at you while sipping from his cup, and you look back at him with several unanswered questions. "Brahms," you break the silence after a while, clearing your throat. You are still afraid to say the wrong thing and anger him. As it seems, he has a sure place for dead bodies. He says nothing but watches you, waiting. "You were here the… whole time?" He nods. "And the… doll? It is just a toy, isn't it?" He nods again. The thought of him watching you without your knowledge sends unease down your spine. He was there the whole time, and you did know nothing about it. "Your parents," you continue. The words roll down your tongue slowly and carefully. "They wanted to protect you." You heard about him killing a little girl. Brahms nods, putting down the mug onto the wooden surface. It's empty. You have not enough courage to ask him why he did what he did. "You…" Your throat tightens. "You killed those men so easily." He reminded you of a feral beast, taking down those men easily and quickly. Even when they begged, Brahms didn't have mercy in his heart to throw them out and let them run away. "They hurt you," he says. His gaze falls on your neck, watching the dark bruise already forming on your soft skin. It makes him angry. "You came out to protect me?" He looks into your eyes again as he nods. "Will you hurt me?" He thinks for a long, horrible second and shakes his head. The dark curls on the top of his head frame the porcelain mask on his face. "The mask," you continue. "You can take it off." His muscles tense, and he shakes his head again. "Okay," you nod, looking at the clock on the wall. "It's late Brahms. You should take a shower and go to sleep." "No," he replies, and his voice is childlike and high again. You frown at his answer. "Do you want to go to sleep like this?" You ask him. He is dirty and bloody and sweaty. He shakes his head. "Then go and shower. You will sleep better." "No." "Brahms," you sigh. "It's late, and I'm tired. Please, just do as I say." After watching over the doll for weeks, you fall into your caretaker role automatically. "Will you be there?" "While you shower?" He nods. "If you want me there." You have to force your face not to grimace. "Will you bathe me?" 'No' is your first reaction, but you keep it yourself. He is so calm now. You don't want to do anything that can disturb it. "If you want to." He nods again, standing up. "Then go and get some clothes and meet me in your room, okay?" You can see he wants to argue for a second but decides against it at the end. He must be tired, too.

While you wait for Brahms in his room, your eyes are glued to the doll in the middle of the bed. He stares back at you. The dim lights reflect in his glass eyes. You are almost angry at it. There were moments during your time here when you foolishly thought taking care of a toy wasn't the biggest waste of your time.

A thought gets stuck in your head, and you frown. Your eyes are still on the doll when you hear the real Brahms's arrival. "Brahms," you say his name. He stops, watching your back until you turn to look at him. He holds his clean clothes against his chest. "Your parent. They won't come back." Your question sounds like a statement, but the man nods anyway.

You need several deep breaths to calm yourself. Upsetting Brahms won't lead you anywhere good.

"Come," you break the silence after a while. Your voice is surprisingly steady. "The sooner you get cleaned, the sooner we can go to sleep."

In the small space of the bathroom, Brahms seems even bigger. He towers over you easily, watching you put his clean clothes on the toilet through his mask. His heart is wild in his chest. He imagined you this close to him so many times before. Of course, he acted on his desires several times, but now you are awake. You know about him. And you will stay. "Take off your clothes, Brahms," you tell him, trying to look everywhere else but him as he slowly does as you say. "You don't like me?" His voice is a mix of his real and childlike pitch. You gulp. "Of course, I like you, Brahms." "Then why don't you look at me?" He is confused. You don't like how he looks like? Maybe you would prefer Malcolm instead of him? The thought angers him. That man is weak and incapable of protecting you. You force yourself to look at him. "I just thought you would feel uncomfortable," you lie. Oh. The man calms down within a second. How nice of you. "Now go," you tell him, pointing at the already running water. For a moment, you think he will obey again, but at the last second, he grabs your wrist, trying to pull you with himself. "Brahms!" You gasp. "What are you doing?" "You are dirty, too." "I will take a shower after you go to sleep." "No." "Brahms!" You don't stand a chance against his strength. The sleeve of your shirt is already wet. "Get in with me!" The anger is clear and powerful in his voice. Blood freezes in your veins at his sudden aggression. "Okay! Okay!" You gasp, afraid. With a quick step, you are under the water, too, letting your clothes get soaked and stick to your body.

Being so close to him, you don't have any other option but to stare at his bare upper body. His skin is several shades darker, with dried blood and dirt on it. His chest is covered in dark hair that barely hides his hard muscles. How can he be so fit while living inside the walls?

"No," he breaks the silence when you reach out for the sponge. "I don't want that." After his last outburst, you decide to let it go. Pouring some soap in your palm, you smear it all over his chest. Your lungs burn for air as you stare into nothing, trying not to think about what you are doing right now. You can feel his muscles quiver and move under your touch. "Am I a good boy?" Brahms asks, making you look up at him in surprise. "Yes," you reply. "You are a good boy." "I protected you." "You did, Brahms." "And good boys get rewards, right?" You gulp. "I guess you are right." "Then take off your clothes." Fuck. "I will take off my clothes if you wash your hair. I can't reach it." The man thinks about it for a second, then nods. By the time you reach for your shirt, he is already washing his hair.

Brahms's heart thuds in his chest as he watches you get rid of your clothes. Soon, you are bare and soft in front of him. Your hair is soaked, and small drops of water run over your skin, caressing the parts he wants to touch, too. His large palms almost burn with need, and his fingers twitch with need. "Am I still a good boy?" He asks, staring down at you. He doesn't even try to hide the fact that he is mesmerized by your breasts. Your nipples are hard peaks almost grazing his chest. "Yes." Your reply is barely louder than a whisper. "Then I can wash you too." It's more of a statement. "Brahms, I don't think it-" Your words end in a startled gasp as he tugs you closer without your permission. His hands are large on your back. His erection is pressed between your bodies. The friction makes him grunt. He caresses your skin, starting on your back and slowly but surely slipping to your front. His thumb flicks over your nipples, playing and teasing them. "Brahms!" You want to sound stern, but your voice trembles at the pleasurable feeling that goes straight between your legs. When he tugs on one of your nipples, your back arches on its own. He knows your body better than you think, and his little secret pulls a naughty smirk on his lips. "Y/N," he says your name, almost whining. "You said I am a good boy." "You are," you tell him. "But you shouldn't-" Your moan is loud and clear in the small room. His long fingers slip between your legs even when you try to close your thighs. "Let me get my reward," he says, on the edge of demanding. "I am a good boy, Y/N. I protected you from those men." "You did," you cry out, feeling him on your most intimate part. His fingertips graze over your slit, opening you up to caress you some more. He isn't sure what he is doing, but it doesn't stop your body from reacting. You feel yourself getting wetter and wetter. His breathing is heavy next to your ear, and his hips rock against your stomach. He grinds his cock to your skin for some friction and whines every now and again. "Teach me, Y/N," he says. "Tell me what to do to be your good boy." If he is a good boy, you won't leave him. You won't even try it. "M-my clit," you tell him, reaching down for his hand to lead him to the small buddle of nerves. "Rub it, Brahms. Here!" He does as you say, watching your face to see what feels good and what isn't. The man draws small circles on your clit while his fingers get soaked in your juices. He can feel the familiar pull on his balls as he continues to grind against your body. Your soft stomach feels like heaven on his aching cock. Your hands snap up to his shoulders, grabbing onto the man to keep your balance. Your legs shake, and your thighs open for his curious fingers. He feels proud when he notices it. "Call me a good boy," he pants demandingly. "Tell me I'm your good boy, and you won't leave me." His fingers on you move faster, rubbing and teasing. "You are my good boy, Brahms," you tell him, gasping and moaning. Hot coil burns in your stomach as you feel your orgasm approaching. "So good!"

You almost fall against the tiles when Brahms squats down in front of you. Your nails scratch over the wall to find your balance. For long seconds, you forget how to breathe as you stare down at the man's curly, wet locks in front of you. You can feel the cold of his mask on your thigh as he pushes it out of the way. "Brahms!" Hearing his name falling out of your lips in a shocked cry makes his cock jerk and leak even more pre-cum.

The scent of your arousal is thick and heavy in his nostrils. Saliva gathers in his mouth as he takes several deep breaths to burn your smell in his memory. When one of your hands finds his hair in a strong pull, he doesn't waste any more time. He leans closer and closes his lips around the small bud he teased a few minutes ago. The vibration of his moan strikes over your body. Your taste floods his mouth, and he can't help but crave more. He devours your pussy like his life depends on it. His tongue flicks over your clit, and his cheeks hollow when he starts to suck on it. "Fuck!" You scream, letting your head fall backward. "Brahms!" Your hips grind down on his face with fastened pace as you chase your release. His muffled whines and moans echo in the small bathroom, mixing with your cries until both of you reach your highs and fall over the edge. His cum lands on the ground until the still running water washes it down the drain while your pussy gets cleaned by his tongue. Your muscles twitch and jerk under every swipe on your sensitive center. "Good boy, Brahms," you gasp for air. "You are my good boy."

[death---dealer]

*reader talking with Malcolm's wife, and she complements readers hair beads made by the female apes*

Reader: aw thank you, I never get compliments often *side eyes caesar*

Caesar: *gives the "bitch what" look*

This is the funniest thing because imagine that night, you're in the nest tangling your hair out of the beads and Caesar is watching with baited breath because he genuinely does think that you are beautiful. Like, he's aware he does not verbalize it often, he knows that you called him out earlier in front of Humans. You're deathly quiet as you pull the beads out, almost placing them down pseudo-aggressive.

"You... are angry."

"You think so?" Caesar is quiet and huffs out of his nose from minor frustration. Why... Were you like this sometimes? He did not know, he did not understand but he chose to press on regardless, "Why?" "No reason, just tired I think. Long day at the dam helping my fellow Humans." You uttered, turning to face him finally and unbuttoned your flannel shirt so you could snuggle into an oversized t-shirt for bed. "You know, they're just so nice."

Ah. So... That's what this was about. His green gaze falls to your bare chest and then back to your eyes as you're holding the t-shirt in your hands, raising an eyebrow, "What? Do you have a staring problem?" Anger flares for a moment as does his nostrils at the absolute audacity of the tone that you used. "I... Do not understand... Why you are being this way." "Would it pay you to give me a compliment?" You uttered and slid the shirt on much to Caesar's digression as he was no able to see less of your bare flesh. "You know, we humans, as tough as I might appear to be. We like that. Compliments. Telling us that we're pretty, or funny, or smart---"

"You know I feel that way, why is it important for me to say it constantly?" "I'm not asking for constant." You rolled your eyes and trailed towards the nest and quite frankly, threw yourself in and tangled yourself into the animal hides that kept you warm when Caesar was not with you. "Geez, you really don't get it."

Caesar grunts, following you into the bed and before you're aware of what was happening, you're pinning flat on your back and he's hovering over you with a hand on the entire scape of his stomach, your skin lighting itself on fire in sudden arousal as you made eye contact with him and felt yourself sink back a bit a the intensity. The nest creaked under you at the sudden shift in weight as Caesar commandeered you and almost had you in a straddle.

"Do you want to hear how much I want you?" You were going to utter a yes but nothing came out, surprised by the bluntness of his words. He was brash, this you knew very well, but he kept these thoughts to himself for a reason you figured, having pressed a bit too far into the rabbit hole but there was no denying that the hold he had on you was exhilarating. "How much... Your scent... Drives me..." Caesar drew his head down and rested it in the crook of your neck. "how I want to... pick at your skin with my teeth. Every... single... part..." Hot and heavy breathing erupted between the two of you as you squirmed out of heady arousal, Caesar's voice tearing into the deepest piece of his baritone that he was capable of reaching and it felt like he was rumbling against you like thunder. All the more enticing, all the more alluring. "You do not understand the want I have to always be near you, to have myself inside of yo---" "I-I was just asking you to call me pretty every once in a while, Ceasar. No-nothing that serious." Swallowing softly, you knew exactly where his sentence was going to end and cut it short out of minor embarrassment that he was able to get you so flustered with just tones and words. He got quiet above you and let his hand drift upwards to encase one of your breasts that caused you to arch against him. "You are pretty."

Well, that was better than nothing, you chuckled to yourself, feeling the heat rise in your navel as you pulled your arms around him to tug his larger body against yours without reserve.

[accihoe]

Christmas Surprise

Pairing: Sergeant!Bucky Barnes x fem!reader

Summary: I don't want to spoil it, read and find out 💕

Warnings: mentions of war and army stuff

A/n: Merry Christmas, folks. I hope you all have a blessed day. I think it's kind of obvious what the story is about, but I hope you like it.

Read this pls❤️

Xxxx

"It's a pity James won't be making it this year. He's scarcely been around for Christmases since Papa passed, and Y/N seemed to have changed that, I thought. Though I suppose he is part of the army now, and they need him for war and all that."

"I was under the impression that all soldiers in training got Christmas off. But I know nothing about military matters, so don't trust my judgment."

Y/N stood in the hallway as her sisters-in-law spoke, Rebecca and Rudy (I made Rudy up for the sake of the story). Her heart beat heavily in her chest as she stared at the framed sketch of James Buchanan Barnes, drawn by Steven. G. R. .

With a smooth of her hands down her apron, she walked into the kitchen. The chatter instantly and awkwardly shifted to the peas that stood on the counter, and Rudy scattered to look for the rolling pin, that was tucked into the front pocket of her apron.

"It's alright, I heard. And Rudy's right. Jamie was supposed to come home four days ago, but for some reason him and his commando friends got refused dismissal or something."

Rebecca sighed, setting down her eggnog, and went to Y/N, laying a hand on her shoulder.

"Y/N/N,"

"Becca, it's quite alright. I really understand your concern, I do. I just feel bad for Jamie. He often spoke of his fondness for Christmas."

Rebecca gave another sad sigh and looked at Judy, who understood the silence.

"Well, on a different note. We've managed to scrounge together some canned versions of James's favourites. It ain't the real deal,"

"But it's pretty damn near."

Rebecca finished Rudy's sentence, allowing a little humour to fill the space. Y/N chuckled lightly, picking up a can of peas. This Christmas would be their 5th without Rudy's husband Joe, their 3rd without their father, and their 16th Christmas without their mother. And now, it would be their 3rd with Y/N, and 1st without Bucky. The three sisters (minus Y/N, merely Bucky's girlfriend, but they went by that nickname), were left to spend Christmas by themselves.

A knock at the door pulled the three women from their thoughts. They shared a look: that was not a feminine knock. It could mean one of three things;

•James was home by some miracle

•They were about to geat dreaded news about James

•The old man next door sent by his wife for sugar

•Rebecca's secret admirer (though this thought was only shared by Y/N and Ruby, and had James been there, him too)

"I'll go get it."

Y/N rushed to the door, heart pounding excitedly. To her dismay, it was Tom, the butcher's son. Y/N's heart sank and her smile faded to an annoyed expression.

"Tom. What can I do for you?"

"Merry Christmas, beautiful."

Y/N sighed, about to close the door when he handed her an envelope. Y/N cocked a brow, hesitant to take it.

"What's this?"

"It's from the post office. Mr. Bennett asked me to deliver it to you. Says the sender pleaded."

Y/N reached to take it but Tom pulled it back.

"Uh uh, first, Malcolm sent you something, and you need to take it before I give you your letter."

Y/N groaned, rolling her eyes.

"I am not obligated to take it."

"Well I'm not obligated to give this letter to you. It's just a favour."

Y/N narrowed her eyes and pressed her lips into a fine line.

"Fine."

Tom picked up a wrapped tin box and handed it to Y/N. Her gut sank, she knew what was in the tin. Tom placed the letter on the box and left. Y/N retrieved inside silently and placed her belongings upstairs in her room. She locked her door and ripped open the paper, sighing heavily when she saw the note on top of the expensive boots she'd been dreaming about.

Just a glimpse of what a real man could give you. Merry Christmas.

The note read.

She felt too bad to open the letter she knew was from James.

-Fast forward to eating time-

After the girls had dished up and said Grace, they sat at the table, ready to eat. Another knock sounded at the door, a man's knock. But a specific pattern belonging to only one man.

"James!"

The three girls said together and got up, but Y/N beat the rest to the door. The door was jerked open, blowing Y/N's hair from her face from the friction. Her stomach swarmed with fiery butterflies when her eyes registered the man before them.

"Buck,"

His signature grin spread across his face before he stepped forward, dropping his bags. Before she knew it, her lover was crushing her bones (just about) in a hug. Y/N's arms wrapped around his neck as he stood on a step lower than her. She felt his figure move as he inhaled her scent.

"What are you doing here? I thought you weren't allowed?"

"I'm not. But no command from any general jackass is gonna stop me from seeing my baby on Christmas."

Y/N laughed, pulling away to flick his forehead before hugging him again. The 'three sisters' made quick work of fixing Bucky a plate while he freshened up upstairs. Y/N couldn't keep her eyes from James as they ate the lunch. She could see the beginning of stress on his features, the slight fatigue from training, but there was something else.

He'd always been a pro at masking his true feelings, but the usual "Bucky shimmer" in his eyes was missing. He tried hard not to lock eyes with Y/N over lunch, but he couldn't keep his eyes from her. Though it'd been a mere two weeks, he'd missed her.

"Becks? I feel something is the matter with James. But I don't want to worry him asking, or pry, he just- oh I don't know he seems off."

Rebecca put down the plate she was washing and turned to Y/N with her own signature look.

"If anyone knows him well, it's you. So I'd say to trust your gut."

With that, Rebecca returned to washing the dishes. Y/N smiled faintly at the tilted floors of the Barnes' kitchen and nodded to herself.

"If it's alright with you, I think I'm going to have a word with him. See if he's alright."

"It's fine by me. Judy's the one you should be worryin' about. Now go, shoo, before she comes back from her rendezvous in the powder room (yes I'm implying that she's taking a dump)."

With a giggle shared between the younger girls Y/N scurried upstairs, knocking on the door of the guest bedroom, her bedroom for the holidays.

"Give me a moment."

James called back.

"Jamie, sugar, it's me."

"In that case give me two moments."

Bucky sassed. At least he was being himself. Y/N pushed the door open, thankful it wasn't locked. She instantly knew what was off. The stupid boots from Malcolm.

"What happened to respecting a man's privacy?"

He frowned at her.

"Darling I don't believe you get much of that in the army, and besides, I don't want us to spend the little time we have together on the blessing of a day brawling about a stupid third party inconvenience."

"So the fella you've been seeing is called 'stupid third party inconvenience?'"

Y/N shook her head with a soft laugh.

"I'm not seeing anybody, James."

"Then what's this?"

He pointed toward the boots, that remained untouched. Y/N sighed, putting the lid over them.

"My letter is right next to them. You didn't even open it. Though perhaps a mere letter that I split my ass to get to you isn't 'manly' enough is it?"

"James, language, and please, let me explain."

His furrowed brows dropped slightly, and Y/N took his silence as her opportunity to explain.

"You remember that rich kid whose father owns the country club?"

Bucky nodded apprehensively.

"I accidentally knocked my bag off a table a few weeks back, and he assisted me in picking up my belongings. He hasn't left me alone since. He's had his friend, or more like servant Tom deliver things to me ever since. Tom wouldn't give me your letter unless I accepted his gift. And I knew what it was going to be, but I was so horrified at his gesture, that I felt too ashamed to open your letter. I'm sorry."

".....Well he's not man enough to enlist."

James said after a moment of silence. Y/N chuckled through her nose and nodded.

"And he's not man enough to deliver the gifts himself."

Y/N nodded, smoothing a hand down James's arm, and then took ahold of his hand.

"You're all I want, Bucky. Believe you me. There's no overly priced pair of boots that could make me change my mind about that."

It was Bucky's turn to laugh at her comment.

"But does he know you've got a suitor?"

Y/N nodded, an irritated expression across her features.

"He knew when I dropped my bag, he knew when I was at the train station to send you off and he waited there to talk to me. And the gifts have ampled since your departure."

Bucky's jaw ticked, and Y/N felt his fingers clasped around hers twitch.

"What do you say you and I pay him a visit and return his gift?"

"Isn't that a little rude, especially on Christmas day?"

"Dollface, we're amidst a world war, I couldn't give a damn about being polite to a jackass who's tryna steal my girl."

"Buck you know he'll never succeed, right?"

"I do trust so. But still, I want to rub it in his face."

"James, baby, come on. If we give him a reaction, he'll probably like it. It'll give him the impression that he's getting to you."

"You were always the clever one in this relationship. So what do you suggest we do, miss smarty pants?"

Y/N hummed, pretending to think as she rubbed her chin.

"Well, for starters, you never call me that again. And, perhaps you and I dress nicely, beg Becca to use her camera, and post him a picture of us with Christmas regards written on the back."

"Not mean enough."

"There's a twist?"

James cocked an eyebrow, intrigued.

"I'm wearing the boots he sent."

James's face broke out into a boyish grin.

"Sounds more like it. I'm in. Get dressed, dollface, I'll use my baby blues on Becks."

"Work your magic Sergeant."

Y/N called as he left the room.

Xxxx

Fin. Merry, merry Christmas, people. I've derailed a little, I'm sorry. Never forget the true meaning behind Christmas, and never forget that you're loved.

Lots of love and best wishes

(Yes I am planning on a pt.2 depending on how well this does)

[crepesuzette2023]

Hold up ,,, Mal called Paul his love in his diaries?

Yes. In his autobiography. He also analyzed their relationship in his diaries. For some context, here's a longer passage from Ken Womack's book, Living the Beatles Legend (Chapter 31).

As January 1970 came to close, Mal began drifting into an emotional slide that had been developing over the past several years. "Seem to be losing Paul," he wrote on January 27. "Really got a stick from him today. He let me down," and ominously added "Fixing a hole," "Pepper," and "directorship" to a growing list of disappointments. Apparently, the conversation had turned yet again to the issue of Mal's servile role in Paul's life, with the roadie believing that the association was bounded by friendship and love. "A servant serves," Mal wrote, "but he who serves is not always a servant," he added, echoing John's philosophy from December 1968. "Love is as sharp and piercing as a sword, "Mal reasoned, "but as the sword edge dulls — you sharpen it. So love's keenness needs honing — needs honesty." *

[...]

On February 11, Mal joined John and Yoko for a lip-synched performance of "Instant Karma!" on Top of the Pops, with the roadie, clad in beige suit and a light-green tie, playing the tambourine. By this juncture, Mal's long-standing relationship with Paul was in freefall. A few days earlier, he have been awakened by a 1 p.m. telephone call from the Beatle. It went "something like this," he wrote in his diary:

Mal: yeah? Paul: I've got time at EMI over the weekend. Would like you to pick up some gear from the house. Mal: Great, man. That's lovely. Session at EMI?! Paul: Yes, but I don't want anyone there to make me tea. I have the family – wife and kids there. Mal: [thinking to himself] Goes my poor head, "Why????" **

By the next week, Mal found himself behind the wheel of the Apple van, moving Paul's gear from EMI Studios to Morgan Studios, another Northwest London facility where Paul could work incognito. At one point, Neil cornered Mal about Paul's surreptitious recording sessions, demanding to know more. "Where's Paul?" he asked, to which Mal tersely replied, "Not telling you."

In other instances, Mal ordered a Mellotron for Paul, while keeping him fully stocked with plectrums and other gear. In late February, Paul asked Mal to move everything back to EMI, where he was set to record "Maybe I'm Amazed" in Studio 2. For Mal, everything came to a head at 7 Cavendish Ave., when "my long love, Paul, to whom I have devoted so many years of loyalty, turned around to me and said, I don't need you anymore, Mal." *** *, ** : Evans, "Diaries." [1963—1974.] 10 vols. Malcolm Frederick Evans Archives. Entries from Jan 27 & Feb 5, 1970.

***: Evans, Mal, 'Living the Beatles Legend: Or 200 Miles to Go.' Unpublished MS, 1976. Malcolm Frederick Evans Archives.

[cursedvida]

your last ask reminds me of this post: https://www.tumblr.com/mortalityplays/751567991841423360?source=share

people are refusing to recognize that Mae is one of the main characters and that she's going through her own arc that will likely carry on and expand in the next film. It's so exhausting listening to ppl complain about how she's a bad person as if doing something bad makes her a bad character.

Yes, but it's because you've made a very good point: they don't perceive her as a co-lesd of the saga. They see her more as a companion to Noa (similar to Will, Malcolm, or Nova). For them, Mae isn't a character on her own but an extension of Noa, so they always read her as a complement. Add to that the fact that she's a woman, we have all the ingredients for her not to be seen as an autonomous character but rather someone whose actions are marked by how they should or shouldn't affect the protagonist.

The post you shared is a 100% yes to everything because basically the standards of fiction and its narrative resources are rooted in white heteronormative vision. Every creative piece has a perspective, and ours is heavily influenced by this because ultimately it's what has always predominated in the media. But the good thing is that nowadays we have plenty of information and means to be critical of it and understand where the root of the problem lies.

Returning to the topic of Mae (sorry for the rant, but I can't help it with this), it's precisely as you say: Mae is going to have her own story, her own path, and her own character arc in which she'll likely experience many conflicts and moral doubts. This first movie has only laid the groundwork for that because now it's not just about the rebellious apes; it's about apes and humans in conflict, and she's the visible face of an essential part of the equation.

[abbysimsfun]

Sims In Bloom: Generation 2 Pt. 77 (A Baby and a Surprise!)

Heather went into labour at the tail end of fall. She left work and phoned Conrad, who set aside his casework to meet her at the hospital.

When he arrived, he called Ash on the phone he was too young for - but Nancy had insisted on it. "Hey bud, are you going to be okay at home for a bit? Mrs. Goth's on her way over to hang out until we get back from the hospital, but we might not get home until you're in bed."

"Gord's here; I'm good."

"Just remember to lock the door and don't answer for anyone but Mrs. Goth."

"I know," he said casually. "Are you at the hospital, too? Is mommy okay?"

"She'll be fine, but when we come home we'll be bringing your little brother or sister."

"That's pretty cool." He still didn't completely understand, but everyone around him was happy about it, so Ash was happy, too. "Are you going to get married like Daddy and Miko?"

Conrad paused. "Do you think your mom and I should get married?"

Thoughtful and smart, Ash considered the question. "I don't know what you should do, but sometimes I don't know what to call you."

"What do you mean, buddy? Conrad's just fine."

"I mean at school, when people ask if you're my stepdad."

Conrad gaped. "What do you tell them?"

"I say sort of. Don't people who love each other get married?"

He laughed. "It's about a bit more than that."

"How much more?"

He didn't have an answer. Not for a five-year-old. And maybe, if he really thought about it, he didn't have an answer for himself. But his thoughts were interrupted by some noise on Ash's end of the line. "Mrs. Goth just got here and she wants to teach me to play chess. She won't let me wear my hat! She says it frames my face wrong."

Conrad shook his head with a laugh. "It's not too cold out tonight. Just humour her and try not to beat her too badly once she's taught you how to play."

Ash grumbled playfully. "It's not my fault games are easy."

Conrad hung up and returned his attention to Heather, who sat on the bed doing breathing exercises between contractions. This was her third time in labour and delivery, and Conrad was far more nervous. "What was all that about?" she wondered.

"He asked if we were going to get married like Malcolm and Miko, but now Mrs. Goth has him focused on learning to play chess."

Heather smiled. "Malcolm says he's always asking him and Miko to have a wedding he can be invited to since they eloped without telling anyone. He'd scam all of us for that much wedding cake."

She grimaced as her contractions returned, breathing through them as Conrad felt helpless to soothe her pain. "What can I do?"

"Just be here. And get me ice chips, maybe."

"I can do that."

As Heather's labour progressed, they moved downstairs to a birthing room. Conrad swayed with her between contractions. "Why do you look so...concerned?" she asked.

"I'm not. I was just thinking about what Ash said earlier."

"When he asked if we're getting married?"

"He said he doesn't know what to call me because I'm not technically his stepdad. We know we're a team, and I know what we said after Hazel's wedding, but marriage means more to some people than just the certificate."

"What do you mean?"

"I think I want to get married."

"You think...?"

"Heather Nesbitt, I want to marry you."

"Not today, I hope." She grunted with discomfort. (He never fails to make her flirty but today is the exception, pushing out a human and with a full cache of uncomfortable moodlets drowning out everything else.) "I'm sorry, I love you...I was never the girl who dreamed of planning her wedding. I want to get married. Wait. Are you proposing?"

"You're hanging on a little tight for me to let go to get down on one knee, but whenever and however you want to get married, I'll be there."

She smiled as they swayed. "I was going to say the same to you."

"I am going to tell our friends you're my fiancee now, though."

"I like that."

After another contraction, he helped her back into bed and she looked at him with a serious expression. "Nothing will change once we get married, right? We'll still always be us. We're a team, and we'll always tell each other what we're feeling?"

"Married or not, we're a team." Leaning forward he kissed her head, gently caressing her hands with his own. "I'm with you forever. You, me, Ash, and this wild one right here. I love you."

"Are you two teammates ready to push?" Dr. Serra interrupted their quiet moment with a smile. "You should be fully dilated now."

"I'm so ready to get this baby out of me, Dr. Serra. If they kick me one more time I might explode from the inside out."

After one final exam, Dr. Serra nodded. "It's time."

Heather laboured with Conrad by her side. In the early hours of the morning, Dr. Serra announced he could see the head. "It won't be long now, Heather. Just keep pushing."

Conrad held her while she worked to bring their child into the world. "You're the strongest woman I know," he assured her. "The baby's almost here."

"The shoulders are out, Heather. One more big push."

Heather complied with a grimace, and her efforts were met with the wailing cries of a healthy infant.

"Congratulations, you guys. It's a..." Dr. Serra paused for dramatic effect as he passed the infant to Heather's waiting arms. "...Girl! You have a daughter!"

Heather smiled, holding their baby girl against her chest as Conrad looked on in awe. Ten fingers, ten toes, and a healthy set of lungs - little Lavender Helena Gordon was finally here!

With winter just around the corner, how would the Nesbitt-Gordon household adjust as a family of four (+ 4 pets)? ->

<- Previous Chapter | Gen 2 Start | Gen 1 Summary | Gen 1 Start

NOTE: I didn't plan their engagement at all. They did this entirely on their own and this is the stuff I live for with this game. After Heather went into labour, Ash got a text from Conrad, and it was the whole 'I found a ring, what should I say?' advice cycle. And since it's technically against the rules for them to get married, I could have said no. I wanted to say yes! And after Ash was so supportive of Malcolm and Miko, and with how much he loves Conrad, I couldn't bear for him to be the one to say no. So I split the difference and said 'decide for yourself.'

Without skipping a beat, Heather and Conrad decided for themselves to get engaged! This isn't in the challenge rules, but they wanted this, I definitely wanted this, and I think we all wanted this! And I loved so much that Conrad asked Ash. Their bond is so deep. He's been in Ash's life since before he was two, which really isn't that much less time than Malcolm, since Ash's bio-dad skipped the first year of his life being a dick.

There was the issue that Heather wouldn't propose, but technically Conrad didn't propose, either. She's so unflirty and content as things stand, and even though this engagement was autonomous and that's everything, it didn't come with any animations. So since it all went down while Heather was in labour, I reshot everything in a second save and gave the very important moment the storyline it definitely deserved. (This also explains why they're in many different hospital rooms and beds while in labour but shhhh! It's an illusion, it's all happening at the same time!)

NOTE 2: All the poses used for this post are from the New Life pose pack by @eclypt0sims, which I think is spectacular! But I don't know how to use toddler sliders, so it's angles to disguise that there's no baby in those shots. But there could be if you have skills!

[vaguely-concerned]

listen I don't even know what I'm talking about anymore but on this playthrough of DA2 I found myself once more entranced and heartbroken to see hawke reenact their relationship with their mother with the entire cursed city of kirkwall. you can never do enough for leandra, and you can never do enough for kirkwall. leandra is proud of you, and kirkwall uplifts its champion, but no matter how hard you try for them you can't fix everything there that's broken, no one could, and even the fact that anyone would feel the burning responsibility to take that task on is a huge warning sign on its own. leandra will easily allow you to sacrifice yourself on the altar of the family's continued well-being again and again, even when she'll beg you to spare the twins from the same thing. it's such a sad, painfully realistic thing because I truly don't think leandra meant to fuck up her kids, and yet she primed her oldest for an abusive toxic codependent relationship with an entire ongoing dumpster fire of a city state better than she ever could have if she had meant to.

I think what leandra actually, deep down wants from you is something you can never ever give her and that is cruel to ask of anyone, but especially your kid -- to bring her back to a time when she was happy. to reclaim when you were all happy, when nothing was broken that couldn't be fixed, before malcolm died, before you had to leave behind bethany or carver's broken body on the ground. to get her childhood back from where she left it and found it all gone and in ruins when she returned. 'this is all your fault'. this is the tragedy of parenthood sometimes I think, that capacity to define a life: she said that once, in a moment of profound pain, and she probably wouldn't have said it under other circumstances and she apologizes later, but now hawke has to live with that forever. leandra can't bear her own emotions without letting them spill over onto someone else so she won't have to hold the discomfort of them anymore, and hawke is left to shoulder that burden and responsibility again and again, handed the impossible task of making it all okay again, somehow -- of stopping anything bad from ever happening again in the Nr 1 Bad Things Constantly Happening capital of thedas.

and then at the same time there's the mirror of how varric's whole family wants orzammar back (and to him orzammar is just a ghost he's seen in their eyes -- there's something in his voice when he says 'That stupid plate was the whole city of Orzammar to him' that gets me every time, how much he understands that he doesn't understand and how lonely that makes him among them, and on top of it all he's frustrated and ashamed and sad that he just doesn't get it and can't meet them on it -- like it's a betrayal that he actually belongs up here, when varric wants so badly to be loyal), just as the hawkes want happiness back. (I don't think it's Lothering in itself that longing is for, it's for being together. Lothering was just the place they stayed the longest.) they're all in exile, even as they try to make a new home out of that exile.

(varric and hawke's real 🤝 quality across all personalities, affinities and choices is 'parentified child' lmao. so much of varric's character makes perfect sense once you know he grew up supporting a mother who was an emotionally volatile alcoholic, honestly. between varric, the hawkes, isabela, seb if you have him and merrill's whole Situation with marethari I feel like DA2 covertly is to mommy issues what ME2 is to daddy issues fjsdjfa)

basically I think I'm trying to pick apart exactly why the fact that leandra is clearly proud of hawke and tells them so several times doesn't feel like it helps at all, almost feels more like a cage even though it's clearly meant well? and what I'm getting is that it's because my sense of what hawke actually needs, in general but especially from a parent, isn't admiration or approval but to be loved and supported and understood. I don't believe leandra ever quite understands them, and it scares her because it makes her think she maybe never even understood malcolm. (that's the subtext of a lot of what leandra will say about him in legacy, at least. he's slipping away from her as the years pass after his death and she fears she never really had him in the first place, if he had secrets like these.) she consistently treats her oldest more like a partner or peer than as her child, which considering hawke is always described as being very similar to their father… I mean I totally see how that could be easy to slip into for her after he died especially, but it doesn't make it any less fucked up or unfair.

the real leandra in legacy is. she is SO absurdly self-centered, if you really pay attention. I don't want to keep dunking on her because I don't think she's like this on purpose, but it boggles my mind. if you do the quest in act 1 she gets so upset and overwhelmed that the kids just sort of sit there like :( at the end, which adds to the trend that through the game you constantly see hawke comforting leandra, and you pretty much never see leandra comforting hawke, beyond some light vaguely encouraging comments in passing. if you do legacy in act 2 while she's still alive hawke comes to her, tentatively asking if malcolm ever spoke to her about any of it -- clearly requesting some sort of emotional support or help to make sense of it. she then expresses her side of it, but never once does she say anything to the effect of 'hey that was a lot to go through, are you okay after all that?'.

instead she essentially hands them the responsibility of having a good life, to repay what malcolm did for all of them. and in theory that's not the worst takeaway I suppose, malcolm probably would want them all to be happy, but in the moment it only feels like more expectation heaped upon you somehow? especially since you don't really get to express anything about how it made you feel before she goes to the 'ah no use complaining' zone (after SHE got to express her grief at feeling like she's losing more and more of that old life, and hawke barely got to say anything fhsfalkjfs). in general she really doesn't do much like. parenting, does she haha. there is so much love there in that relationship, and yet so little comfort. Oh, those days. All of us, in that simple place. Well, that's neither here nor there, is it. This life, we have to make the best of it. And thanks to you, and him, I will. Oh well, mum, I'm uh. I'm glad you feel better after that, at least. Nice to be of service.

it's varric's ghost-leandra who actually acknowledges what a burden hawke has taken on, that shows an understanding of why they're doing it, acknowledges the loss they've been through and also reassures them in their sense of belonging that still can't be taken from them, despite it all -- The best of him is still with you. The best of all of us. It's what makes you try so hard. You'll always have that. We'll always be family. (you can't take 'loved' away, huh.) you get a bit more of a reconciliation/reconnection between hawke and their dad's memory by being reminded he got like this too, you know (implicitly you're not alone). varric through leandra is the one who tells them what they probably would have wanted and needed to hear from a parent right then -- It's going to be alright. that's what Hawke, The Champion means to everyone else, and for once they get to be the one to hear it. except only in a kind dream that never really happened. I. it. hmmmmmm. crushing. that is crushing. but also so incredibly tender from varric's side, and so moving to me that he's seen all this stuff and so desperately wants to give them that comfort. anyway DA2 is about love in some of the realest and thus messiest and most human ways I've ever seen and it makes my brain go wild it's my favorite game of all time goodnight

[jjkilll]

-—--—-—-✫ 4ME 4ME | JJK ✫-—-——-—

— pairing | bestfriend jk x y/n | friends to lovers

— summary | jungkook involuntarily signs you up to be his wing-woman at an upcoming party, and you're saying all the wrong things.

—  warning | smut, choking, spit, cum, cum-eating? fingering kinda, unprotected sex (please for the love of god, use a rubber), drinking, ass slapping (like once), and dirty talk? really explicit (i feel idk)

— word count | 2.5K

— song | 4Me 4Me - Malcolm Todd

Jungkook never drank or smoked too much at these parties, he had to ensure you and him made it back safe every time you went out. So, this night you were especially drunk and high, the music was loud, and dancing, and drinking games had you so preoccupied you forgot truly why you were here. Which was your plan exactly.

You and Jungkook grew up together, your mothers were best friends and you two did everything together. Christmas, Halloween, New Year, Easter, you name it, you and Jungkook matched somehow. You also developed a crush on Jungkook the summer you turned 13. It was weird, you found his cute instead of gross. You always wanted him around, you made sure it was that way. You used to tell girls who thought Jungkook was all the weird shit he'd do.

"He snores... loudly."

"He chews with his mouth open."

"His farts are deadly... you wouldn't last two minutes."

It wasn't until you're mom overheard you once and asked why you say those (very true) just personal things about him. You told your mom you might have a crush on him and she warned you to prioritize your friendship and follow your heart.

Except following your heart led you into being a wing-woman for the man you were in love with. Not fun. Jungkook walked up to you as you danced. "What? Can it wait until this song is over?" You shouted over the loud Tove Lo blasting from the speakers. "No. I need to talk to you." He protested grabbing your hand and pulling you out of the crowd. "Y-you are a party pooper, what couldn't wait until a-after my song?" you stutter drunkenly. "My god, you smelled like vodka," Jungkook says handing you some water. "I don't need that shit Jungkook, I'm having fun." You pout, he rolls his eyes dragging you away and sneaking into you the library of the home.

"Holy shit it's fire in here. Wait, Whose house is this even?" You laugh at yourself nearly falling to the ground. "Can you pull it together, please? Jesus Christ. Taehyung said you were drunk but I didn't realize you were this drunk."

"Is that why you had him follow me around? Why were you keeping tabs on me?" You ask standing as your laughing fit wears off. "To make sure you don't tell any more girls that I snore." You went quiet unsure of what to say and you felt your tummy turn. "What do you mean?" you asked acting clueless, sobering yourself up.

"Don't ask stupid with me, Y/n. Stella told me you told her that I snore and I always put my batteries in upside down. The shit is just really hard to read, okay?" You swallow.

Jungkook is a handsome man, anyone could see that, he was sweet and caring and truly the only reason chicks weren't all over him was you. They never liked the closeness and when they got over your relationship with Jungkook, it felt like you were losing him. He was the most important person in your world. You've never known a good time without him. So you started being weird and telling little shit about him that would turn them off sooner than later, giving them a chance to accept it.

Truth was you loved his snoring, it was like weird white noise for you. When he put his batteries in wrong he'd always ask you. So the thought of him eventually asking someone else hurt you more than it should have.

You sit on the long L-shaped sofa that takes up the right wall.

You look up noticing the skylight "I'm sorry I just can't do this." You say. Quickly Jungkook sits beside you, "What's going on with you, Y/n? You've been asking weirdly since I asked you about the whole wing-woman thing. You could've told me no, I would've never made you do it." He says.

"No, I'm sorry for what I'm about to say. I said all those things. I did. I don't feel bad though. It's selfish I know but I want to be with you. You make me crazy, and if I hadn't listened to my mother when I was thirteen I wouldn't even have known this pain. I can't sit back while you fall for someone that's not me, because I fell for you years ago. Seeing you with other girls hurt me to no end. When they hurt you I felt a rage that I couldn't even express because all I know is I would give you every ounce of my love if it killed me." You breathed deeply realizing you had begun the cry. He hasn't looked at you, you realized that too.

"and you- you can't even look at me. You don't look at me, I can't even understand that, Jungkook. So I'm sorry I hurt you because never want to hurt you, but I'm not sorry for not wanting to lose my best friend."

For the first time in a long time, Jungkook looked at you as you sobbed in front of him. "I just wanted some of you before you choose someone whose not me." Your tears blurred your vision.

"Y/n...Why didn't you say anything to me?" He asks wiping the tears from your face. "Because what good was it going to do, you don't even see me that way. I want to do things that friends don't do." You spoke slowly sniffling through your tears. "Like this?" He says grabbing your chin and placing a soft kiss on your lips. You nod eyes wide and lips unsure of what to say next.

You kiss him desperately. Hungryily, his hands find your waist pulling you on top of him. "I used to jerk off to you." He says breathily breaking the kiss."What?" you chuckle.

"It was your 13th birthday and you had on this pink bikini and I instantly got a boner. So when I told you I needed to sleep for a bit I went upstairs and jerked off the thought of you in the bathroom." You look at him a little shocked. He scans your body.

"13-year-old me would have never ever believed this." He spoke grabbing at your waist. You kiss him lightly, "I only asked you to do the wing-woman thing, because I was hoping you'd find someone just like you." He kisses you deeply. Your lips part, still close enough he whispers, "So I could stop dreaming about you." You kiss him roughly, nibbling at his bottom lip. "You can have me... all of me." You slip the straps of your dress down revealing your tits. "No more dreaming." You whisper.

"Fuck, you're going to be the death of me." He kisses down your neck, kissing your nipple before he swirls his tongue around your erection bud. You gasp. He looks up at you and you leak. His eyes are lustful, no, hungry. He craves you.

"Please." You whimper. "Whatever you want, baby. I'll give you whatever you want." He growls hungrily. You lift his face and kiss him. "Fuck me." You whisper against his ear. He groans at your lewdness. "That mouth is gonna be the death of me." He speaks before leaving a hickey on your neck. "Wait til it's wrapped around your cock." You say breathlessly. He moans, "Fuck." He quickly hikes up your dress pulling it over your head. "You are so pretty, gonna ruin your little body." He says before slapping your left ass cheek and squeezing it. You whimper at the sting from his slap.

He slips his hand in your panties running his fingers over your slit. "You're so wet for me, baby." He says looking at his fingers covered in your slick. He puts his fingers to his lips before he sucks them. "mm taste so fucking good." He groans. "Wanna taste?" He teases. "Kook please." You grind against him whining. He kisses you deeply. "Shh, I got you baby."

You lean back undoing his belt and pants, shuffling them down. You stop before pulling down his boxers. Jungkook looks at you. "What's wrong?" He asks. "Nothing I... I just wanted this for so long." You admit. "You don't have to wait anymore, baby. I'm all yours." If your panties weren't soaked before they're drenched now. You peck his lips before stroking him through the thin fabric of his boxers. "Fuck." He huffs, watching your ever move.

He assumed Jungkook had a big dick, you heard the girls he'd bring home beg him to fuck them harder. But his dick, his dick was thick and long. You weren't sure he'd fit. You pull his boxers down watching his cock spring free. You hadn't seen a lot of dicks before but, Jungkook's dick was the prettiest you'd ever seen. His pretty pink tip leaked pre-cum.

"You're so big." You mumble. You gather spit in your mouth before letting it drip onto his cock. "My fucking god." He whispers. You stroke him slowly. You feel your pussy pulse, the thought of his cock stretching you out made you feral. Before you can even realize Jungkook flips you over so you're underneath him. He quickly pulls down your panties. Your pussy on full display. "My god, even your pussy is pretty." You whine bucking your hips up. "I'm sorry baby, I'll stop teasing."

He rubs the tip of his cock between your fold, and you moan as he rubs against your clit. He slowly sinks into you and you shiver. You moan clenching around him. "Fuck Jungkook my god," you scream. He bottoms out, filling you up nicely. You think you could come before he even moves. He pulls out before thrusting back into you at a moderate pace. He grunts fucking into you. "This is the best pussy ever. S-so fucking tight."

You claw at his back, "Choke me, Daddy." You whine. Jungkook throbs at the nickname you've given him. His hand wraps around your throat as he fucks into you harder hitting the spot that makes you see stars. You mumble out a string of unintelligible words as the knot in your tummy loosens. "Like when I fuck you like this, hm? When I choke you?" You don't respond too lost in the pleasure. You moan and whimper, "Awe, too fucked out you can't even answer me. Tightly little pussy." He spits on your clit rubbing circles on your clit.

"Fuck! Fuck! Daddy, I'm coming. Just like that, please just like that." He fucks into you at the same pace. "Cum on my cock baby, that's it." You fall apart moaning almost pornographic like. "You sound so pretty cumming for daddy." Your eyes roll back as he fucks you through your orgasm.

"Oh my god, it's too much." You say coming down from your high, still sensitive from your first orgasm. "I'm so fucking close. Where?" He asks quickly. "Inside, cum inside of me." Just like that Jungkook paints your walls with his cum. He moans emptying himself inside of you.

He pulls out slowly watching his cum drip out of you. "Jesus." He breathes out flopping beside you. You gather some of his cum on your fingers and lick them clean. "Mm, yummy." You say with a chuckle. "You are so fucking dirty, I'm jealous of all the guys you fucked before me." You laugh. "Well luckily," You start sitting up, "You get to have me forever." You say with a smile. "That's only if you want." You add, not wanting to add any pressure to your newfound relationship. "Fuck yeah, I want you!" He says looking at you as if you'd just grown three heads. "We can get married tonight, If you want an Elvis or MJ, I'm fine with whatever." He jokes as you laugh climbing on his lap. He grabs your waist pulling you in for a small kiss. "Will you um..." He looks you in the eyes.

"What?" you ask. He looks a little nervous. "I'm still me Jungkook. I'll always be your best friend." He smiles. "I know, that's why I want to do this right. I was thinking maybe... I could take you out." He breathes out. You kiss his nose, "I would love to, Where to?" You ask cutely. "I was thinking somewhere downtown?" He asked. "What!? No, Kook, that's too expensive. You don't have to-" He stops you. "No, when have we ever gone out to a nice dinner, just us?" You hum. "See. So, I'm taking my pretty girl out." You smile. "Say it again." You say.

"Say what?" He asks tucking one of your loose curls behind your ear. "I'm yours." You speak simply. "My beautiful girl. All mine."

You look up, the ceiling is glass and you can see the moon. Big and bright it shone through. "Look." He tilts his head back. "Wow, that's beautiful." He looks back at you.

"Y/n?" You hum looking back down at him. "I'm sorry I kept you waiting." You kiss him. "I love you." He admits.

"I love you more." You say with a smile. "I'll love you forever." He says. "Also I love when you call me Daddy. That shit is really hot." You hit his chest before standing up. "Let's go, Taehyung is probably on the roof looking for you." He laughs.

You fix your dress and walk over to Jungkook, brushing the wrinkles out of his shirt. "You look good in this. I meant to tell you earlier." You say looking at his outfit. "Thank you, baby." He says with a smile. You grab his hand walking to the door. "You're welcome, Daddy." He turns pulling you close to him. "Maybe we should stay in here a little longer. Round 2?" You laugh pushing him away. "Come on, Kook."

You rejoin the party and run into Taehyung in the hall. "Where were you?" He asks drunkenly. "Uhh..." Jungkook stalls looking at you. "The library. Cool ceiling, you should check it out." You say, "Oh! Where's the bathroom." Looking to Jungkook as he points to the door down the hall. You let go of his hand going into the bathroom.

Taehyung looks to Jungkook, after watching you walk away. "You two slept together." He states, already sure of the truth. "What?!" Jungkook almost screams. "The hand-holding, s-she finally doesn't look annoyed with y-you, and the fa-act that you have that stupid grin on your f-face." He slurs. "No-" Taehyung puts his hand in his face before he can continue. "Shut it. Y-you can't lie to me. Now i owe Jimin $100."

"You bet on if me and Y/n would have sex?" Jungkook asked shocked. "Duh, I said it would happen next week. Fuck Jimin and his g-good timing." He says before walking away.

You walk out of the bathroom and find Jungkook standing in awe. "What?" you ask. "They bet on if we'd have sex." You laughed throwing your head back. "Doesn't shock me. I bet that you'd sleep with Jackie next door. I got $200 that day." You reminisce. "You're terrible." He jokes. "But you love me." you say walking away.

"That I do, baby."

✫ -----------------------✫

a/n: I saw Malcolm Todd is April and I'm just missing him so this is a random song I'm sorry, not sorry. Please enjoy, liking, reposting and requests are so very greatly appreciated.

[faghubby]

Family help

"Paul, Judy tells me you wear panties" Kelly giggled. Kelly was my sister in law. I had been married to Judy for 15 years. For the last 5 Judy has controlled our marriage and cuckold me for most of it. I didn't answer Kelly I just stared at my shoes.

"Don't worry it can be our secret, just like how John's truck got detailed. She handed me a bucket full of car cleaning material. I just took it and went to clean my brother in laws truck. I wondered what else Judy had told her sister. As I cleaned the truck. I was at it for about 2 hours when Kelly came out with a glass of tea.

"Judy was right you do nice work. Is it true you did her boyfriends car wearing only a thong" Kelly asked. I just nodded. "Well I am sure my neighbors would complain about that" she laughed taking my glass she went back inside.

"Judy called says she is spending the night with Malcolm?" Kelly smiled. "Since John won't be home till Monday. I have some things you can do around here for me" Kelly smiled. "First I am curious. I want to see" she smiled and motioned for me to strip. I knew if I argued she would tell Judy. So I stripped quickly I stood before my sister in law. Wearing only a pink lace thong. The tannins from a bikini where obvious on my chest. Having returned from vacation only a week ago. Kelly wore a sundress and sat on a stool she spread her legs and lifted her dress to reveal she wore no panties. Her well trimmed red bush glistening she was already excited.

"Show me what Judy brags about" she said.

" I shouldn't not without Judy permission " I told her. She showed me her text messages from Judy. Judy had given her permission to use me however she liked. I knelt and buried my head between my sister in-laws thighs she went wild riding my face. I soon found myself on my back as Kelly rode my face. She came over and over loudly.

"I forgot how much I love oral" Kelly laughed catching her breath.

"John doesn't do that" she told me. With a huge smile. She pulled my thong toward and giggled.

"That's why the tounge is so good" she patted my 4 inch erection.

"Get dressed you have work to do" Kelly told me. I did as she took me upstairs to my nephews room. It was a disaster. It even smelled bad.

"Kelly assures me you deep clean. I want this room perfect" She told me. And left me alone. I set to work stripping the bed, curtains and all dirty clothes. I started the laundry and went to work. As I started got to the closet I discovered several old penthouse magazines. I set them on the bed not sure what Kelly wanted me to do with them. As soon as I did Kelly came to check on me. She picked one up,

"Did you have girlie magazines under your bed at 15? Or from what I hear where they more playgirl?"Kelly teased.

"Moms lingerie catalogs" I responded.

"These are old must be John's" Kelly commented. She then stopped.

"Are you allowed to look at these dirty magazines?" Kelly asked.

"Judy doesn't approve of them" I responded.

"Are you allowed to look at naked woman at all?" Kelly asked.

"No" I responded.

"Bur you saw my pussy earlier" Kelly said. I just looked at the floor.

"What would happen if I told my sister" she asked.

"Any number of punishment" I told her.

"Really? Does she spank you?" She asked.

"Sometimes" I told her.

"When you're done I have another chore for you" Kelly left me. I found Kelly in her room. She spread her legs again on the bed.

"I got so excited thinking about you being spanked" she told me like she needed a reason for me to go down on her again, she saw quieter this time but spuurted all over my face when I surprised her by sticking two fingers in her as I sucked her clit.

"I have never" she was embarrassed looking at my face covered in her juices. Then said "Does Stacy?" She asked. I just nodded. And she smiled. I did a few more chores before Stacy came and picked me up. Kelly wanted to talk but she could tell Stacy was in a hurry. As soon as we where in the car.

"I am leaking" Stacy told me. She put on cruise control and I parted her legs and licked at least her lovers cum that was leaking out. When we got home I did a though job of cleaning her up.

The next morning I was informed I was spending the day at my mother in laws house. As Stacy dropped me off again. Diane had figured out my submissive nature early on.

"Mom, Paul is very skilled at all types of housework. No need to just make him clean the garage" she told me. But that's exactly what Diane had me do. She set me to work. Clean out all her husband's things. Donate, sell, or just throw away. I went to work. And was making lots of progress. I moved an old box out to the driveway. When Diane opened it find my father in-laws old porn stash. Videos and magazines most very tame by today's standards.

"I don't want this " Diane said " well you can have it Paul" she told me.

"Stacy would never allow that" I told her.

"Of course but even man has his stash I guess you call it" she laughed

"No, Stacy would go ballistic" I informed her. Diane stopped me.

"Stacy controls alot of what you do doesn't she?" Diane asked.

"I think you should talk to her about this" I said feeling uncomfortable.

"Paul, I know she has had lovers. But you seem to have worked thru it" Diane said making me sit and talk.

"Tell me, just between us if you like" Diane told me. Holding my hand.

"We have a different type of marriage is all. It makes us both very happy" I told her.

"Are you saying she knows you wear her underwear, I don't mean to embarrass you I just well you bent over" Diane was the one blushing. To make her feel better I explained how Stacy cuckolds me and I serve her. Diane was fascinated and we talked for over an hour.

Then she made a comment

"It's been years since I have had any pleasure that way" she mumbled I don't think she meant to say it out loud.

"Would you like me to help you?" I offered sincerely. I loved this woman. I reached over and kissed her. She didn't pull away.

"I can't I mean, you can't see me naked it's too wierd" she blushed like a schoolgirl. I got up went out to one of the boxes in the garage it had a hand massage thing some one had given her she never opened. I ripped it open and changed the batteries.

"Trust me" I asked I parted her legs and held the muscle massage against her crotch

"Ohhh" she giggled. "Wait she stood and drooped her shorts. She wore cotton granny panties. And already a wet spot appeared I used the massager to tease her. And rather quickly she bit her lio and wimpered as an orgasm hit her. She pulled at my shorts and again saw my pink panties.

"OH I didn't realize, it's not very big is it" she tried to say it gently. I didn't answer. But Diane took the massager and held it against my panties. I came very quickly. Making a mess in my panties.

"I am glad you and Stacy are happy. Even if you are a little girlie boi." Diane told me. I helped her by a vibrator online. Then after we cleaned our selves up. We finished in the garage. Stacy picked me up. Diane showed her the box of old porn from her dad.

"Seems Paul finds everyone's dirty secrets." Stacy laughed.

"Well at least he doesn't need this" Diane flashed me a smile.

"Can't help finding smut where ever you go can you" Stacy laughed at me when we got in the car.

Having neglected our house for two days. I spent the next few days getting it to Stacy's standards.

Stacy continued to expose me to family and friends by loaning me out, or little comments. Soon it seemed everyone knew something if not everything. I spent a day every two weeks at Kelly's house. Cleaning but also making her scream. Diane and I became more like friends. But we discussed everything from sex to recipes over tea. Or as I washed her windows.

Some of our friends disappeared from our life. And some got closer. The couple next door invited Stacy over for an evening she returned in the morning, While I spent the night scrubbing the basement floor.

The more she exposed me the more I was denied any attention from her. If I wasn't man enough to stop her. Then certainly I wasn't man enough for her. She told me. Offering to let me start wearing a dress.

"I am sure there are lots of men that will love fuckingthat ass of yours" Stacy told me.

[night-market-if]

Answering some bulk questions

I am getting the same kind of questions in my inbox and instead of answering them all individually, I thought I would just make one long post. Hopefully that can clear some things up.

Why is m!pen white and f!pen black?

Mostly because the character of Pen is death. They have no form. Not a real one. Much like the MC, the image they are presenting is a construct. So, when I thought about that, I kind of thought it would be fun to play around with two very different aesthetics (I think in the final edit I might even write them a bit different). I did this for two reasons. One, because I haven't really seen this in ifs. And two, I kind of liked the duality of it. Opposites, really. It sat well with me for the character of death.

2. Why does nothing bad ever happen to Milo? Stop playing favorites.

Bad things have happened to Milo. More so than the other characters, I would argue. I have a feeling this is more from people annoyed that a very specific bad thing won't happen to Milo. Because Milo has watched Malcolm and MC die. Was beaten as a child. Orphaned. Didn't know where his real home was or who he was. Has a ghost for a sister. (who he also watched die). Has been responsible for keeping his best friend sane for quite a few years. And got the shittiest job in the world. He has also been stabbed at quite a bit. Betrayed. And used.

I do a lot of bad things to Milo. Favorites would be if nothing bad happened to him. And defending your characters decisions is not playing favorites. It is just knowing your characters as a writer.

3. Who is your favorite RO?

I have said before that Milo is not my favorite to write. So inevitably I get asked who is. I don't answer this question because I don't want the complaints.

4. Why don't you have stats?

Because I don't like them. I come from much more of a storytelling perspective than a game mechanics one. And don't get me wrong. People that do game mechanics are awesome. I admire them a ton and enjoy their games (though my field is more video games). But that's never what I wanted the Night Market to be. I just want people to be immersed.

5. Do you feel you have to have inclusivity as a writer?

I don't know why I've been getting this one a lot. Might be something going on in the community. The honest answer is no, I do not. I have never felt pressured to have a certain representation within the Night Market. That all being said, maybe I don't feel that way because I tend to have an organically more diverse cast of characters? But I can't say I have ever felt like I have to put a certain representation in. And I don't believe writers should feel pressure for that. Because a lot of times, if you are just putting in a token character to do it, it becomes a bit problematic.

6. What are your favorite IF's and do you have recomendations?

I hate to say this, but I don't read IF's. I've dabbled occasionally in the past but I find when I read IF's, it messes with my head and my ability to write. Now, I read a lot of novels. That is my preferred vehicle of reading. But as for IF's, I probably won't read a lot of them until I am officially done with the Night Market. I struggle to enjoy stories when I feel like it is a part of my day to day job.

7. Why don't you ever speak out politically?

Because that is private for me. I don't want to. I want to provide an escape from the world. Not add to discussions that are being had by people far more adept than me. I leave my political feelings and responsibilities at home.

8. Why can't you provide (insert numerous topics) to the route?

Because coding and writing are a bitch. There is a lot of work that goes into this stuff that isn't always fun. And sometimes, as much as I would like to put something in or have a new route, I just can't. I am one person. A person who has a pretty hefty personal life. I am doing what I can.

[vlansy]

Run Away Baby Before I Put My Spell On You

Pairings: WandaNat! x Fem!Reader

Summary: Natasha and Wanda is set on a mission to find out who the "new" super hero in town is.

Warning(s): Violence, Voyeurism, murder, use of gun, swearing- (MINORS DNI 18+ )

CHAPTER 1 CHAPTER 2

Reader's POV

Growing up I have always wondered what I was made for, my mother said she prayed to have me and the deities gave me to her. She said I was special and she was the most blessed woman to have me. I was blessed by every God, giving me gifts and power.

But I still wonder what my purpose is.

I mean don't get me wrong having been given powers to move things with my mind, and control anyone if I wished to is an honor I will forever be thankful for, but sometimes I feel like I’m cursed to have them. I still have morals though, I ask for permission first before I enter someone's mind but even without asking I could still do it. Levitating and creating illusions is also one of the many powers given to me by the Gods. The Goddess of beauty and love herself even bestowed me with the power to charm and captivate anyone I wish to kneel for me.

When I was given to my mother they all expected me to be the one to stop the war and create peace among everyone.

I was sent to the mortal realm at a young age by my mother, she wanted me to live there with her immortal friend whom she said she’d known for a long time. I don't know what her reason is and why she wanted me to leave her but I know better than to question the queen.

I visit sometimes though, I mean what's a castle without its princess?

And what's a mother without her daughter….

My thoughts were interrupted by a sudden knock on the door.

“Y/n, are you awake?” A soft masculine voice said.

I was lying on my bed my feet dangling on the edge. I raise my hand opening the door without getting up.

I hear my Uncle Malcolm's footsteps coming closer my eyes remain closed.

“Is it just me or does the “woman in white” look familiar?” He said emphasizing the “woman in white”.

I opened my eyes and turned my head to him. I looked at him and raised my brow. “I see you’ve seen the news.”

“Y/n, I know you have a mind of your own and you’re a bright girl, but honey please be careful out there.” He said as he sat on the edge of my bed.

I’ve lived with my “uncle” Malcolm here on earth since my mother decided it would be a good idea for me to leave. He’d known my mother when he was in high school and my mother was a curious princess who wanted to see the whole universe.

His only family is me now and his fiancé Luthor.

They’re both very much in love and I would love nothing more than to officially welcome Luthor to our family. They both treat me as if I were their real daughter and I love them both like their my real Dad’s

It’s ironic really, before I got sent to earth I’ve only ever had women around me, since where I came from women are the ones to rule and provide for their offspring. No men exist where I came from they’re practically extinct.

I look at my uncle. “I promise I won’t get hurt, Dad,” I assure him. “And would you really think I’d let anyone catch me?”

“I know you wouldn’t let that happen but I know you too well to know that if the Avengers were the ones after you, you would let them.” He said knowingly.

“I- okay I probably will, but come on Dad if the Avengers were to want me I’d be honored to be caught by them.” I laughed at him.

It's an understatement to say that I'm a huge fan of the heroes that protect the world. But I would never admit that to anyone but my Dad’s.

They know how much I admire them, especially the two wonderful redheads I have a tiny bit of a crush on.

So when I thought of the idea that the Avengers might be on to me I had mixed feelings about it. I don't know whether to be excited that they know of me but also a bit scared because they know of me.

“And besides, whatever happens, happens. I'm a powerful being but I can't control what will happen, Dad.” I finally sat down on my bed.

He just sighed at me, knowing how stubborn I am he probably thought not to argue with me further.

“Where's Papa, by the way?” I changed the topic.

“He's still in his office, you know your Papa he's very hard working.” He said proudly. I just nodded.

My Papa is a well-known lawyer and my Dad is a popular Fashion designer. When I was younger I started to model the clothes he designed which gained me popularity all throughout high school and college.

I graduated college at 18 due to my high credentials and skipping a few grades. I honestly don't know what to do since I don't go to school anymore, I'm 19 now and turning 20 in a few months but all I want to do is keep my position in the modeling industry.

People say I'm too smart to just throw it all away but I don't really care what they think, plus My dad’s supports me with everything I do and whatever I choose to be.

I live by myself most of the time, I bought myself a house, but I miss my Dad’s too much so come over at weekends.

“I'll leave you to rest now sweetheart, goodnight,” he said as he kissed my head.

“Goodnight, Dad.” I smiled at him as I watched him walk out the door.

A few minutes passed and I was tucking myself to bed when my phone rang.

“Yes, Shaye?” I said when I answered the call.

“Y/n! Girl let's go out tonight!” She screamed right in my ear making me move the phone away.

I look at the time, “Babe it's literally midnight?”

“Yeah so? Come on honey the other girls are coming too,” she reasoned.

I thought for a second, what could go wrong? Right?

“Fine, give me like 30 minutes.” I finally agreed.

“Yay! Okay hurry up and I'll call you when I'm there, Byee!” She said cheerfully.

“Bye.” I said and quickly went to my walk-in closet and chose an outfit.

Once I found a white crisscross halter top and some denim jeans I went to my mirror and got changed. Then I went out of my closet and to my vanity. I started putting on a little bit of makeup and took the claw clip that was on my hair to let down my soft curly hair.

I got my purse and made sure my important belongings were in there and went to my Dad’s room.

I knocked on their door and waited for it to open.

“Yes, sweetheart?” my Dad said as he opened the door.

“I'm going out with Shaye and my friends.”

“Okay, be careful alright,” He reminded me.

“Yes, Dad bye,” I said and smiled back at him.

I was going down the stairs when Shaye called. “We’re here.” she is said.

“Yeah, I'll be right down,” I said and ended the call.

When I got out the door I was greeted by my friends squealing. I opened the shotgun seat and Shaye started driving.

“Oh my God Y/n we’re gonna have so much fun tonight!” My friend Leven said in excitement.

The car ride was pretty much us singing to loud music and taking photos.

When we arrived at the bar the guard didn't even need to check our IDs or make us stay in line because we go to parties here almost every weekend.

Some of our close friends were already waiting for us in the VIP section of the bar with drinks ready.

“Y/n babe, You made it!” A familiar feminine voice catches my attention.

“I probably wouldn’t have come if I knew you were here.” I joked at her.

Vienna was my ex when we were in college but we were more best friends than girlfriends so we ended up on good terms. But even when we broke up we would still playfully flirt with each other, but we both have zero romantic feelings for one another.

“Oh don’t act like you don't miss me, honey,” she winked at me.

I playfully rolled my eyes at her.

We partied all night and drank so much alcohol that my friends could barely walk anymore.

“Oh my God, do you guys remember when we all got in trouble because we couldn't stop laughing at Mr. Wilkins when we caught him picking his nose.” Leven reminded us.

“HAHAHA, or when he tried to flirt with Shaye in front of the class but Shaye said she also likes girls?.” I said and they all laughed, especially Shaye who almost choked on her drink.

As we caught up with each other's lives and reminisced about the times we had together I excused myself to go to the bathroom.

As I walked to the exit of the bar I could already feel the danger come my way.

I excused myself to my friends earlier because I saw a woman being followed and harassed by two men. I watched her for a while and when she was going to the exit I knew I had to follow.

As I looked around the exit I saw the two men following the girl out so I quickly but carefully followed them.

One of them ran up behind her and covered her mouth so she couldn't scream the other guy went to a nearby van and opened its back seat.

I walked towards them and spoke. “Watcha doing there big boys?”

They turned towards me. “You wanna join in doll?” The guy holding the girl said and smirked. I smirked back at him and walked closer to them, my heels clicking as I walked. The other man from the van now went closer to us.

“You know, two big guys like you shouldn't be out here at night,” I said as I got close to them the girl still trying to get out of the other man's grip.

He looked at his buddy and they both grinned. “Yeah, and why is that?” He asked a menacing smile plastered across his face.

“Because you might come across women like me,” I said as my eyes glowed golden.

Their smile slowly went away while mine grew wider.

I raise my hand in front of them making them both paralyzed.

I use my other hand to move the girl with my powers, freeing her from the guy's grasp. The girl stumbled in front of me so I held her close.

“Are you okay?” I asked with a look of concern.

“Y-yes, thank you,” she said as tears ran down her eyes.

“Go, and please don't tell anyone I was here,” I pleaded. “I'll take care of these boys for you,” I said as I turned back to the men giving them a sharp glare.

I heard the girl run but my attention was caught by the two men in front of me grunting and trying to move.

“It really isn't fun being helpless huh?” I asked with a fake pout.

“Oh! How about we play a game? Would you like that?” I asked then laughed. “Oh I forgot you can't speak, let me fix that for you,” I said and waved my hand in the air giving them the ability to talk.

“You little bitch!” one of them screamed at me.

I gasp. “You guys aren't very nice.”

“Let us go you fucker!” the other guy commanded.

“How about this, I'll give you five seconds to run and then I'll run after you, and if I catch you… I'll kill you.” I said as my smile dropped.

“1…2…3 GO!” I scream as I free them. They ran as fast as they could not wasting and second.

I just waited there and looked at my watch and when it was time to run after them I used my powers to make me fly making my current clothes disappear and turn to my white armor and covering myself with a white cloak.

As I was in the air I could already see the both of them run to a nearby alley. I fly with speed and when my feet touch the ground I start to play with them.

I surrounded them with clones of myself circling them so they had nowhere to go. “You have nowhere to run boys.”

One of them took a gun out of his pocket and the other one a knife. They started attacking the clones of me but every attack just went through my clones while they laughed at the men's pathetic tries.

When I finally got tired of watching them struggle I made one of them float in the air making him drop his weapon the other guy tried to attack me but I paralyzed him into place.

I entered the mind of the guy I held in the air and bent him to my will.

“θα τον σκοτώσεις και τον εαυτό σου (kill him and yourself)” I whispered in his mind and as I did his eyes glowed golden and his face expressionless.

I both let them go and watched as the man I whispered to attacked the other guy.

“Stop! What are you doing man!” the man grunted as they fought each other.

I was gonna watch them kill each other when I felt something in my chest and I felt my power in my veins. My veins are visibly glowing golden.

“What's happening to me?” I question myself as I look at my arms.

I quickly flew out of the alley not caring if anyone sees me.

But as I was in the air something shot the side of my stomach from a distance making me lose control and fall onto a rooftop of a building.

My stomach was bleeding and I tried to cover it up with my hand. When I gained composure and tried to stand up I saw a red entity fly towards me and as I turned my head the other way I saw a black-suited figure jump from building to building going after me.

“Shit!” I cussed out figuring out who they are.

It's the Scarlet Witch and the Black Widow.

I try to fly out of there but suddenly scarlet threads wrap themselves around me making it hard to move.

I breathed in and out catching my breath as I was about to use all my strength to break free from the witch’s spell.

At this point, my whole body was glowing and I could feel the witch’s spell slowly breaking and when I broke free a powerful force blew them both away making the widow hit her head on the cement and the witch fell on the ground.

“Wanda!” I heard the widow scream.

I wanted to help them and apologize but it was too much of a risk so I gathered all the strength left in me and flew as fast as I could out of there.

(Please tell me how I did in this chapter and if there are any errors.) Thank you all so much for the support!!😘

[yakumtsaki]

AND WE'RE BACK. My cancerous thyroid might have briefly cucked me, but now I'm about to cuck every goddamn semi-incestuous couple in this house. Isn't that right, Baby?

-CAWK CAWK

Exactly! Baby here is a parrot that Meadow rolled the want for and I was like sure, what problems could a parrot possibly cause?

-OPEN THIS DOOR. SOMEONE OPEN THIS DOOR FOR ME. OPEN IT RIGHT NOW OPEN IT OPEN IT

Um it should open automatically for you wtf?

-OPEN THE DOOR, MAMMAL TRASH, THIS IS YOUR FINAL WARNING

Ok Baby seriously why won't the doors open for you?

-I DON'T KNOW BUT I WILL STAY HERE AND PREVENT EVERYONE FROM GOING TO CLASS BECAUSE THEY'RE TOO STUPID TO USE THE OTHER DOOR

Alright then, clearly there's only one solution to this..

Perfection.

-Um, what happened to the door?

-IT ASKED TOO MANY STUPID QUESTIONS. OUT OF THE WAY, HUMMIE SCUM

Well, Baby was clearly a much needed addition to this house. Now, to the main event: an end to the Year of Sin!

NOP, NEVERMIND, SPOKE TOO SOON, MUST DO THIS INSTEAD. We invite Good Witch over for Spice and she asks to bring a friend and it's FUCKING MALCOLM. LMAO. I simply have to, I can't resist-

-Well well well, if it isn't the famous Malcolm Landgraab IV, the finest intergenerational concubine the world has ever seen!

-Huh?

-You were too much of a straggot to date my father, but I know you won't be able to resist the charms of the much better looking son!

-What?

-God, the conversation is just crackling with sexual tension!

-So, Malc, I believe we should make out. Thoughts?

-Where are those fucking butterflies coming from?

-Your stomach? ;)

No, they're from the Good Witch, my bad y'all.

After many, MANY hours of talking, Malcolm finally accepts a lame wolf whistle-

-but our efforts are interrupted by Felina returning from class. WILL YOU GIVE IT A FUCKING REST FOR ONE DAY

-NEVER

-Sorry kid, but if Malcolm Landgraab is to ever consider bisexuality, it will be for someone who can beat up his own sister.

Wtf kinda rule is that you freak?? You know what, just gtfo-

-NO. Stay here, Malcolm, I'd like to hear stories about you and great-great grandma Victoria!

-Oh wow, now that was a real woman. She could hold her liquor, she could whore around, she could beat up anyone.. No man could ask for anyone more feminine!

You are so right, Malcolm, the only one to ever do it better was Long John Silver!

Ok seriously Barth is there a plan here, why are we wasting valuable time on platonic interactions with this loser?

-I just have a feeling true love will prevail!

What are you even talking about-

UM PWND @ ME WTF. ACR DOES IT AGAIN WITH LITERAL NEGATIVE CHEMISTRY LOL

OH FUCK YES TWO BIRDS WITH ONE STONE. Two Babies with one stone if you will!

-HOW DARE YOU CHEAT ON ME, YOUR OWN FLESH AND BLOOD

Ya ok GROSS but finally we can put this behind us, 1 down, 200 more to go. Cyan go back to your other cousin-lover while you still can because I'm breaking you up too!

-Don't have to tell me twice!

Ugh.

-Hmmm...

What now, Barth.

-Nothing, I just keep forgetting I actually have two eyes.

Ya, you and me both.

-But now that I possess peripheral vision, I see there's so much to be done in this house.

You have set yourself on fire multiple times, please stop with the household tasks, that's why we have a butler.

-But he never actually does anything!

Yes well, his main job is to answer the door and we no longer have one, but it's still money well spent.

-WELL I WILL FIX THE DISHWASHER OR DIE TRYING

-BARTH NO I STILL LOVE YOU

-FUCK YOU SUNSET, YOU BROKE MY HEART BY SLEEPING WITH YOUR BOYFRIEND. HE'S NOT EVEN RELATED TO YOU

Barth no offense but I think I'm ready for your next electrocution to take you out.

-As am I!

-And I!

-GETTING SLAPPED MULTIPLE TIMES A DAY IS STARTING TO AFFECT MY MENTAL HEALTH HOW DO I MAKE IT STOP

You could stop being Satan incarnate?

-No, there has to be a better way!

-How about I sleep with the boyfriend of the only cousin in this house who doesn't already hate me?

Yes, absolutely, and please take another crack at fixing the dishwasher when you're done.