#not sure why my dad. a grown ass man. is unable to put shit away properly. i had to tupperware a random fucking container of beans in the

[falling-hand-in-unlovable-hand]

i'm so tired of fucking dealing with people today. i'm the only one awake in my house rn and somehow i'm still dealing with people

#not sure why my dad. a grown ass man. is unable to put shit away properly. i had to tupperware a random fucking container of beans in the #fridge #and when i open the garbage i discover he's fucking tossed a large amount (possibly all the rest. i didn't want to check cuz i'm already #upset) of my special meal that i have as very reliable and something i enjoy a lot that got made literally yesterday night #just thrown away for no discernible reason except that he didn't feel like putting it away #and my partner just won't tell me when the fuck they're free and hey let's just change plans last minute also my mom can't drive me EVER an #i won't bring this up til last minute meanwhile I'M the one going 'heyyyy mom i'm really sorry but could you pick up M on your way home fro #work even though it's way out of the way i'm sorry i didn't know until literally right now that their mom isn't even home' #and we see each other weekly if we're LUCKY but when i try and fucking arrange anything they don't know their plans at ALL somehow #and they never reach out when they do! but they'll text me 'i miss you :(( it's so unfair we never see each other we should just be witches #in a little cabin in the woods' like NO. WE SHOULD FUCKING COMMUNICATE ABOUT WHEN WE CAN ACTUALLY SPEND TIME TOGETHER #maybe spend less time talking about my ass with your bestie who you see ten times more than me and more time idk asking your mom when she #has plans???!? #kiwifae says shit #god sorry i'm fucking done tonight #bad sleep + shitty day + humoring my driving teacher for two hours + hungry practically all day + broken headphones #are not. a great combo #and it's only wednesday somehow. christ.

[leanbeefpattysimp3]

(Omg I can’t believe I’m finally writing this story, I’m so excited to be putting this into words for myself and you guys, I know that some people aren’t fans of fanfic OC stories, but to the people who do I really appreciate y’all and I hope you guys enjoy this story. If you’d like to learn more about my OC, Solomon, you can look at my pinned post. And please feel free to give constructive criticism, everything helps :)

Daughter of The Tiger Slayer( A Baki OC Story)

Chapter 1: Shuten-dōji

Solomon’s (OC) POV: “Good morning ladies and gentlemen. On behalf of American Airlines, it is my pleasure to welcome you aboard flight 158 with service to Dallas, Texas and continuing service to Tokyo, Japan-” the airline lady on the speaker announced as I boarded the plane. I start walking towards where on the top on the entrance way read “First Class”. I don’t think I’ve ever been this excited to get on an airplane before just because of the fact I was able to purchase a first class ticket with the money I made from my last fight in Arizona. Who knew an old military man would pay anything to see you fight? “-If you are seated in an exit row, you may be required to assist the crew in an evacuation. If you are unable or unwilling to perform the functions described on the card, just ask to be re-seated. Thank-you.” Oh thank God she’s done talking, I get it’s her work voice but gah damn it sounds too nice and peppy. I get into the first class area, and holy shit this place is bougie! I’m not a fan of the word but I don’t know how else to explain how fancy this area is? Well, fancy technically is the word for it. As I’m looking for my seat I get a glimpse at a huge guy already sitting down in his spot…wait a second- is that? I get a better look and sure enough- “Mr.Unchained? Is that you?” I hear that laugh of his that I can’t mistake for anyone else’s. Mr.Unchained, whose real name is Biscuit Oliva, went to previous fights of mine, including the last one since it was so close to the Arizona State Prison. “Why it sure is kid, I had to come see you before you were able to run away forever!” Oliva laughs as he gets up and gives me a bear hug. “I would’ve came by and said goodbye to you and everyone but with how urgent this is-” “Kiddo you don’t gotta explain yourself, your family is a priority, that’s why I brought it upon myself to stop by before the plane took off.” He says as he pats your shoulder. He’s been like a father figure since I started fighting in America, helping me learn and understand that even brute strength can get you through fights. He didn’t teach me many things, but what he did teach me helped me get better as a fighter, and as a person. “Thank you for being understanding, I’m gonna miss you a lot Mr.Unchained” I’m trying to keep my composure but I let a few tears slide, I mean I’ve know all these people for so long but now I’m leaving them permanently, it hurts like hell, but it hurts more knowing that I almost just lost my dad and I would’ve never gotten to see him ever again. Oliva takes one of his handkerchiefs out of his pants pocket and wipes my tears, “It’ll hurt for awhile, but if you ever need me, I’m a phone call away and I’ll fly out to Japan the same day you call.” He gives me a big cheerful smile that makes me feel better. He gives me one more hug before starting to head out of the plane. “Oh and Solomon-” I look back towards the broad man standing on the other side of the entrance, “-you better kick some ass in Japan, Doppo will be very proud to see how much his daughter has grown, literally, you’re a giant compared to how small you were when I first met you!” He laughs as he walks out of the plane, and as soon as I can’t see him anymore people start filling up the plane. Definitely my que to find my spot- wait was that my spot Oliva was waiting for me in? I walk over to where he was sitting, and on the side table was a card with a box. I put the duffel bag I’ve been carrying under my seat as I sit down and grab the card, It’s really pretty, gold and a sage looking green splattered around it. I open the card and read it, “My last gift to you, Solomon Orochi. -Biscuit Oliva” it wrote. I look over at the box and pick it up, it’s quite light for a gift from Oliva. I open the box and take out the thin blue paper that was cover a new set of fighting clothes, the typical shorts and sports bra. Once I saw the clothes I took them out of the box to look at, they were completely black besides what was written on the chest of the sports bra, which was my fighting name, Shuten-dōji.

#baki hanma #baki the grappler #baki headcanons #doppo orochi #jack hanma #kaoru hanayama #katsumi orochi #kosho shinogi #kureha shinogi #retsu kaioh #solomon orochi #gaia baki #Sikorsky #Hector Doyle #oc stuff #oc story #baki OC

[noladyme]

La Cuervo - Chapter 8

She is used to the biker-life, having grown into a woman in the familiar embrace of SAMCRO. A bad decision and a gun-shot later, she gets whisked off to Santo Padre, and put under the protection of another club. What is supposed to be a short stint in the Mayan headquarters just north of the border to Mexico, turns into something more; when la quervo begins to develop feelings for el angel - and he seems to return them in kind...

TW: violence, blood, drug use, alcohol, smut, fluff, angst

In the spirit of "The Crown Princess of Charming", this is a story about O.C. Nina and Angel Reyes. It is obviously non-canon, as characters who have passed on on Mayans M.C. are present in it, and others have been excluded completely. Nina is written as a cis-female, but I have tried to keep her race and looks as ambigous as possible. Should you find any of this story offensive, please let me know.

8.

With firm hands on her hips, Angel led Nina in front of him; only letting go to hold the door for her to enter the clubhouse. Inside, they found both clubs neck deep in their first beers. Tig was seated on a chair with Chucky on his lap; bouncing the little smiling man up and down on his knee, while he hugged him tight. “I missed you so much, Chucky! Are they treating you ok? Do they feed you?”. He looked at Hank who was laughing at the scene. “You know, he likes his eggs sunny side up. And you need to make sure he doesn’t drink diet coke. It upsets his tummy”. Letty had showed up while she was getting ready, and was seated by the bar nursing a coke; Coco hovering over her, and giving any Son who looked in her direction a death-glare. Leticia was wearing a turtleneck, as she’d been told. The fact that it was a crop-top didn’t seem to matter to her.

Nina pulled at Angel’s cut to make him lean his ear down to her lips. “I’m gonna go spend some time with my other family, before VM rolls in, and I have to pretend not to know them”, she said. “Please don’t get all macho again”. “Can’t promise anything”, Angel said, and placed a possessive kiss on her neck. She pushed him away, and went to sit down with her brothers. After taking a chair between Rat and Happy, Ratboy gestured at her neck. “You got a little something…”, he smirked. Letty jumped off her chair, and handed Nina a pocket mirror, to examine the hickey Angel had left there, just below the one he’d made the day before. “Shit. What are you; 13?”, she growled at Angel. He smiled smugly, and grabbed a beer, before going over to stand by EZ.

Rat gave Letty a shy once-over, and Nina patted his arm. “Don’t… Her dad was a sniper in Iraq”, she muttered. Letty smiled at Rat, before going back to the bar. “That’s her father?”, Rat whispered, and looked at Coco. “Yup…”, Nina replied. Coco took a huff of his smoke, and leaned against the bar; moving his cut so that his gun was visible. Rat swallowed thickly, and moved his focus back to his beer.

Happy elbowed her softly, and pulled out his phone, to show her a picture on the screen. “Wendy checked in”, he said. The picture was of Thomas with his face covered in chocolate. Abel was running in the background, wielding a supersoaker. Nina let out a soft sigh. “God, that kid looks like Jax”, she said. “Which one?”, Happy grunted. Nina chuckled sadly, and the biker put an arm around her. “Yeah… I know”.

“So, you’re coming back with us, right?”, Tig asked; having finally let Chucky go. “No, she isn’t…”, Filip said, having appeared at the table with a glass of scotch in hand. “What?”, Happy said, his expression suddenly angry. Filip sat down, and Bishop pulled up a chair next to him. The two presidents gave each other a knowing but hard look. “It seems our Nina has sold herself into servitude”, Filip said. Tig leaned forward and shook his head. “Nah… Nuh uh. What the fuck is this shit?”, he said. “She’s not some piece of ass for you to…”. “Relax, Trager. It’s not like that”, Bishop said. “Then tell us what it is!”, Quinn said. Filip gestured for Bishop to continue, an irritated but defeated expression on his face. “As you know, Vatos Malditos are coming to Santo Padre. They’re going to offer us money to help them search for Nina”, Bishop said. “You told them…?”, Tig roared.

The Sons jumped to their feet, hands on their weapons. The Mayans responded in kind, and it seemed that what had just been a nice get together, now was about to turn in to a massacre. Letty and Chucky dove behind the bar, and Nina got on her feet. She grabbed Filip’s glass, and flung it at the wall; smashing it into a thousand pieces. “Enough!”, she roared. “Fuck! It’s like dealing with overgrown children…”. She scowled deeply at all the men. “Sit your asses down, and listen!”. “Yeah, fucking listen!”, Creeper growled. Nina drew her lips back in a snarl. “Shut the fuck up, Creep; or I’ll superglue your dick to your balls!”. Creep looked dumbstruck. “Are you gonna let your girl talk to me like that, brother?”, he asked Angel. “Fuck, yeah”, Angel said. “Oh, and you and me are in the cage tonight”. Creeper sat down, cursing bellow his breath.

Once everyone was seated, and more or less calm, Bishop continued. “You know how it is… We can’t risk money and potential war for an outsider. You wouldn’t either…”. “I’m staying here, working for San Pad for a year”, Nina explained. “That way, the Mayans couldn’t hand me over, even if they wanted to. It would be against their rules, because I’ll be a part of the family here”. “And we’re supposed to trust that they won’t do it anyway… Why?”, Happy asked. “Because Nina does…”, Filip said, giving her a meaningful look. “Look, I don’t like this any more than you do; but as it is, I don’t see another way out. We brought our girl down here; put her in the care of not just another charter, but another club all together. I blame myself… But this is a better solution than all-out war”. The Sons all shared angry and defeated glances. “And after her year is over?”, Tig asked. “That’ll be up to Nina”, Bishop said. “She does good work around here. If she wants to stay…”. “Niña is family”, Coco said, getting concurring nods from the rest of the Mayans. Filip got to his feet. “We’ll deal with that 12 months from now. But you better treat her like a fucking queen, or we will come back down here, and burn this shit-hole to the ground”, he said. “I need a new drink”.

---

A few hours later, after Bishop had explained the plan of letting Nina disappear into the crowd to SAMCRO, the first guests began arriving. Nina rushed around, dealing out orders to the hangarounds who were going to take care of the guests that night. She was overseeing the setting up of the sound equipment outside the clubhouse, while simultaneously refilling the bar set up by the porch. Daniella had decided to show up, in spite of Angel’s rejection. She kept to herself; once in a while sharing some words with some of the other guests. Angel didn’t pay her any attention, though not for her not trying to catch it.

Suddenly, there was a roar of bikes coming up the driveway. Nina instantly froze in place, only to move again, when EZ came up to her, and pulled at her wrist. “You good?”, he said. “Is it them?”, she whispered. EZ looked towards the incoming bikers, and nodded slightly. Nina let out a slight gasp. She turned around, and saw a group of men dressed in denim cuts; none of them looking friendly. They got off their bikes and walked up to greet Bishop, and Filip; who’d followed him outside. The Mayans and the Sons all took their places on the porch, each with their own faction. The leader of the group stepped forwards. He was a brusque and serious looking man, with a long braid down his back. His eyes were cold, and she recognized the family resemblance to Gael. El Palo.

Angel shot her a short look, before looking at EZ. His eyes would have seemed indifferent to anyone else, but Nina could see what he was saying. We got this, querida; and; take care of her, brother. “They’re just gonna stare each other down a bit”, EZ said, trying to calm her. Nina nodded slightly, but was unable to control her breath. It was like someone had a vice-grip on her lungs. EZ looked down at her, and frowned slightly. “I need…”, she heaved. “Time to disappear”, he muttered. Slipping an arm around her shoulders, as if they were about to find a quiet corner together, he led her towards the trailer. Most of the people around them ignored them. It was perfectly normal for couples to get a bit frisky, and needing to release some steam at these kinds of parties. They passed a group of women chattering excitedly. Daniella was among them, and smirked when she saw EZ’s grip on Nina.

As soon as he’d opened the door, Nina stumbled inside the trailer, and grabbed her inhaler from the table. In her shaking state, she dropped it on the floor, and EZ picked it up, handing it to her. She took a hit, and felt her lungs relax. “I’m sorry”, she panted. EZ put a calming hand on her shoulder, and smiled. “You’re ok”, he said. “Just breathe”. Nina took a few deep breaths, and put her forehead on his shoulder. “Thanks”, she said. “Is one brother not enough for you?”. Daniella was standing outside the open door. Nina scowled at her, but didn’t reply; still too wound up to be able to form a proper comeback. Ezekiel went down to face Daniella, and stared her down. “If you wanna stay, behave”, he said. “Otherwise, get the fuck out”. Nina put down her inhaler on the table, and walked outside; closing the door behind her. EZ put his arm around her shoulders again. “Puta…”, Daniella mouthed. Nina shot her the middle finger, and let EZ lead her away.

The staredown seemed to be over, and all three clubs had scattered to enjoy the party. “I have to go take care of the grill”, EZ said. “Will you be ok?”. “Yeah…”, Nina lied. He squeezed her shoulder, and left her to go tend to his job.

She stood for a long moment, looking over the frivolities. Happy and Gilly were looking on, as Angel revved the engine of his bike by the gate separating the scrapyard from the clubhouse area. The Son looked impressed, and let a pretty girl crawl under his arm, and press against him. Hank was studying the tattoo on the arm of a VM. Coco was pulling Letty off a table, where’s she’d been dancing. Nina made eye contact with Filip for a second, and he winked at her quickly, before going back to nursing his beer, and the gorgeous brunette on his lap.

She went up the steps to the porch, and opened the door to the clubhouse, to go inside; when she bumped straight in to a denim-clad chest. “Perdóneme…”, a raspy voice said. She looked up, and locked eyes with a Vato, with inquisitive and cold eyes. She parted her lips – unable to speak – and let out a short, nervous breath. “Let me get this for you”, he said, and held the door open for her. “Thanks…”, she muttered, and walked by him as calmly as she could. Taza was seated by the bar, and when he saw her expression, his eyes flickered for a moment, looking at the VM-biker. “Yo, sweetheart. Get me a beer, would you?”, he called out. “Uh huh”, Nina croaked, and slipped behind the bar as fast as she could. She grabbed a Sol from the fridge, and placed it in front of the VP. Sala disappeared off to somewhere. “You’re doing good, kid”, Taza said quietly. She nodded, and tried to smile.

Tig joined them at the bar, and looked in the bowl of apricots. “I see you’ve let Nina take care of the snacks…”, he chuckled; while looking around to check that none of the VM who were spread around the room were listening. “You have so much to learn”. Taza patted his shoulder. “Educate me, brother”, he smiled. Nina handed Tig a beer, and wiped down the bar, as the two men began sharing stories. After a few shots with the VP's, she felt about as embarrassed as EZ must have felt, after Felipe had told her the story of how he wet himself on the Ferris wheel at a state fair. “… I’m telling you, Taza. Her face was as green as the absinth-liqueur she’d been drinking; and she was dancing on the bar to the national anthem”, Tig said. Taza roared with laughter. “Happy and I had to carry her to bed; and we came back to check on her, she’d snuck out the window of the dorm – the door was unlocked, mind you – and she was running around the lot demanding piggyback-rides from every patch in presence”. Nina cleared her throat. “I think I’m gonna go check on the bar outside”, she said. “Aw, am I embarrassing you, muffin?”, Tig said. “Yes”, Nina said shortly, and shot both men a smile, before grabbing a case of beer, and walking towards the door.

One the porch, she was met by the Vato she’d bumped in to earlier. He gave her unpleasantly leering once-over, before reaching for the case in her arms. “Let me help you", he said. “You don’t have to do that”, she replied. “I insist”, he said, and took the case from her. Nina gave him a polite smile, and gestured towards the bar by the garage. “I’m Sala”. “It’s over here”, she said, avoiding giving him her name. She was just a random hangaround, she kept reminding herself; no one special. She walked ahead of him, not wanting to make it seem like she was interested in having a conversation. Once they arrived at the fridge set up behind the table set up as a makeshift bar, Sala set down the case. She nodded at him. “I can take it from here”, she said, and went to open the fridge. The biker grabbed her arm, and made her turn around; getting a little too close for comfort. “Have someone else do it. Let’s go somewhere private…”, he smirked. “No thanks”, Nina croaked, and pulled her arm from his grasp; backing away. “I don’t think my…”. She didn’t know how to label Angel; it was still too fresh. “I’m here with someone else”. Sala frowned teasingly. “Come on…”, he said, and took a step towards her again. “You look like you like to have fun…”.

“Hey, mami. How are you doing?”, Angel said from behind her; placing his arm protectively around her waist. Nina almost gasped in relief. Happy came up next to them, giving the VM-biker his trademark stink-eye. “This your girl, Reyes?”, Sala said. “Yeah, is she?”, Happy said, looking towards Angel for a split second; and took a sip of his beer. Angel tucked Nina into his side. “Yeah… she is”, he said. “Want to make something of it, carnal?”, he asked Sala. A smile ghosted Happy’s face, and he met Nina’s eyes; nodding shortly. “Sala!”, someone barked from across the lot. Palo had been observing the interaction, a displeased scowl on his face. He nodded his head for Sala to come join him, and the Vato walked off; cursing bellow his breath.

“Thanks…”, Nina muttered. Angel looked down at her. “Ain’t nothing to thank me over”, he said. “He’s just marking his claim”, Happy said. Nina frowned. “Are you gonna pee on me next?”, she grunted. Angel winced. “Don’t tell me you’re in to that shit…”, he said. “That’s nasty”. Happy laughed, and patted Angel’s shoulder; before walking over to join Quinn at a card-game he had going on.

Nina pulled out of Angel’s grasp, and went to fill the fridge. He came up behind her, and grabbed her hips; kissing the back of her neck. “You know you’re not the only one here to do this shit, right?”. “Just keeping busy”, she muttered. “It’s a party. Try to have some fun", he said. “I have to finish this…”. “You have to look like you’re enjoying yourself". He turned her around, and pushed a lock of hair out of her face. “You’re tense as fuck…”. She sighed deeply, and put her forehead against his chest. Angel waved for a female hangaround to come take over; before taking Nina’s hand, and pulling her with him, to go sit on the steps to the porch.

By the looks of it, everyone around them were having fun, but Nina found it hard to get into a partying spirit. She looked over at a table by the garage, where Bishop was deep in conversation with Filip. Palo came over to join them. They all nodded at each other, and the conversation continued with the VM president adding his inputs. Angel noticed Nina looking at them. “You afraid?”, he asked. “Only as much as the next possible murder-victim”, she muttered. He put an arm around her shoulders, and pulled her close. His other hand went to her knee, and he let his fingertips draw small circles on the inside of it. “I know something that might relax you…”. She began to feel her cheeks burning, and bit her lip. “What’s that?”, she asked. He squeezed her thigh, and put his soft lips to her ear. “Watching me fuck up Creeper in that cage…”, he smiled. Nina let out a wanton sigh. “God, yes…”, she breathed.

Angel chuckled, and got up; giving her a hand to stand up herself. “Creep!”, he called out to the other Mayan. His tongue was down the throat of the red-head Coco had had some trouble getting rid of the week before. He pulled back, and looked at Angel. “What, brother?”, he asked. “It’s time”, Angel replied. Creeper gave the ginger one last kiss, and made his way to the cage. Angel went in the same direction, his arm around Nina’s waist.

---

A crowd gathered around the cage, as Angel and Creeper got their hands taped up. Nina let herself be mesmerized by the sight of her bare-chested champion, who was already jittery with adrenaline. Once Riz had finished with his hands, Angel went over, and grabbed the back of her neck; pressing his lips to hers. His kiss was deep and greedy, and he had no shame in pressing his groin against her in front of the crowd. His tongue danced against hers, and he let out a wanton grunt. “Let me just take care of this motherfucker, and then we can go somewhere and finish this��, he said against her lips; and stepped away from her. Nina was surprised her knees were still carrying her, and she felt lightheaded from all of her blood running to her groin.

Once inside the cage, Angel and Creeper circled each other like two lions, until Riz called out for them to begin. Angel flew forwards at the flash of an eye, and slammed his fist into Creeper’s face. Creeper fell backwards, and covered his mouth. Letting Angel think he was disoriented, he stumbled forwards again, and jabbed Angel in the ribs. Nina gasped at the sound, and her heart skip several beats, until Angel straightened back up, and put his arm around Creeper’s neck; continuously jabbing at his sternum. Breaking free, Creeper managed to get a hit in to Angel’s head.

As the fighting continued, Nina was caught off guard, when Palo appeared next to her. He handed her a beer. “As an apology… for my enforcer’s behavior”, he said. “Thank you”, she croaked. Palo gave her a half smile. “I’m just trying to keep him out of that cage…”, he said, and looked towards the two fighters. Angel had Creeper in a headlock. Nina chuckled nervously. “He’s strong… Your man”, Palo said. “Is he doing that for you?”. “I guess…”, Nina said, trying to avoid letting her voice shake too much. Angel looked up at her with a smile; but when he saw Palo, his eyes went cold. Creeper began tapping his arm, to forfeit; but Angel didn’t seem to notice, and only held on harder. Nina’s eyes widened in fear. “Angel! He’s tapping out, man!”, Riz called out. Angel was pulled out of his trance, and immediately let go of Creeper, who fell forwards, gasping for air. “I’ll leave you to it”, Palo said, and walked away.

Riz proclaimed Angel the winner, and he and Creeper hugged. They walked out of the cage together, and came over to Nina. “Are we good, Nina?”, Creeper panted. “Yeah. We’re good, Creep”, she said with a slight smile, and stepped forwards to pat his shoulder. Creeper winced at the touch, blew out a deep breath, and let himself be led away by the readhead, to be pampered.

Angel looked in the direction Palo had gone. “Everything ok?”, he asked. “Yeah, I think so”, Nina muttered. “He was apologizing for that thing from before, with that Vato”. “Huh”, Angel said, before turning to accept a towel from Riz. He had a small cut over his eyebrow, and his ribs were bruised. Nina stroked her fingertips over the mark, and Angel winced a bit. “Are you ok?”, she asked. “I’m good, querida. Don’t worry about it”, Angel replied, and kissed her temple. The scent of his adrenaline-fused sweat and his cologne hit Nina’s nose then, and she let out a soft moan. He smirked down at her. “Who’s the horny little shit, now…? Got something you need, cuervo?”. She bit her lip to keep from grinning, and got on her toes to kiss him deeply; making it very obvious what, in fact, she needed. Angel grabbed his shirt and his cut, and put his arm around her, letting his hand rest on her bottom; before leading her towards the trailer.

They were halted in their tracks, by a whistle. “That was some stellar fighting, brother”, someone called out to them in a Scottish drawl. Nina groaned, and looked over her shoulder disgruntledly at Filip; who was nursing a bottle of Jameson with Tig, Bishop, Sala, and Palo. “Thanks, man”, Angel replied. “Have a seat”, Filip said, and gestured for a chair next to him. Angel shot him a displeased smile, and led Nina over to the group. In spite of her disappointed expression, he put on his shirt and cut again; and sat down next to Filip. Tig smirked at Nina. “Aw, looks like we ran out of chairs. I got a lap right here for you, sweetheart…”. He patted his thighs, his eyes full of mischief. “I have a feeling you’re a dirty old man”, Nina replied, and raised a knowing brow at Tig. “You don’t know the half of it”, he said, and reached out his hand to shake hers. She did actually know much more than she wanted to, but held her tongue. Tig was as dirty as they came, but since hooking up with Venus a few years back, he’d mended his ways somewhat. “Tig Trager”, he introduced himself; keeping up the ruse of not knowing who she was. “And you are?”. “Not interested”, Angel said, and pulled Nina down to sit on his lap.

“You want to be careful with this one, mano”, Sala said. “He’s possessive of his girl”. “Good”, Filip said. “A man should take care of his woman”. Angel nodded shortly at him, and wrapped his arms around Nina’s waist, as she sat sideways on his thighs. Planting a soft kiss on her shoulder, he then accepted a beer from a passing hangaround. Nina looked up at her, and saw that it was Daniella; a fake smile plastered over her face. “Anything for you?”, she asked Nina. “Scotch…”, she replied. “That, I can help with”, Filip said, and got a glass from the table, filling it, and handing it to Nina. “Chibs Telford”, he said. Nina nodded, and took the glass. Daniella had an ugly sneer on her face for a second, before leaving them to it; giving Sala a view of her butt as she passed him. “Mami, get me another cold one”, he said. “Coming right up”, Daniella smiled at him, and moved towards the bar.

Bishop cleared his throat. “Palo was just telling us about a situation up north”, he said. Nina focused on running her nails through Angel’s hair. She was there as arm candy, not to listen; and she needed to keep up her ruse. “Business?”, Angel asked. “Yes… for you”, Palo said. “For me, it’s personal”. “Never good to mix the two”, Filip said. “Maybe not; but in this case, I’m willing to make an exception”, Palo grunted. “Esto se trata de la familia. I know Alvarez is your primo, Obispo; but I don’t trust him and Oakland with this anymore”. There was a pregnant silence, before Bishop spoke again. “As far as I know, Marcus is keeping his end of your deal. He’s been reaching out to all our charters, to find this woman…”. “This whore, shot my cousin down in cold blood!”, Palo growled. “Then she left him behind in a dirty alley to die alone. I want her dead!”.

A shudder went through Nina’s body. “Are you cold?”, Angel asked, trying to cover for her. She shrugged and nodded; and Angel pulled her closer to his chest. He put his lips to her ear, as if he was kissing her. “Breathe, querida”, he whispered, and squeezed her thigh gently; before taking a sip of his beer. “Didn’t she shoot him in the head?”, he said to Palo. Nina’s heart skipped several beats. “What are you saying?”, Bishop asked, his voice warning in its tone. Angel shrugged. “Just that if she shot him in the head…”. He pointed at his temple. “… he was probably dead the second the bullet hit… So, it’s not like he bled out alone on the ground…”. Nina wanted to scream; please shut your himbo mouth!; but, once again, held her tongue. “How does that change the situation?”, Sala asked. “Whoever shot him, didn’t want him to suffer… They were probably just trying to save themselves… Your cousin had reputation of being a bit rough with his women, is what I heard”, Angel replied. Nina hadn’t heard about this before, and was beginning to wonder if Angel had been asking around about Gael, to help her in some way. “Or mug him”, Palo said, obviously indifferent to his cousin’s reputation with women. This seemed odd to Nina, after how he’d handled her situation with Sala.

“Was anything stolen?”, Filip asked. Something cold ghosted Palo’s face, making him even more terrifying. “No… Nothing seemed to be missing from his body”, he said. “The puta did leave something behind, though”, Sala said. He grabbed the beer Daniella sauntered over to give him, before running his hand up her thigh. She smiled sweetly at him, taking it as her que to take a seat on his lap. He took a sip of his beer, and looked down her cleavage; seemingly satisfied with his catch of the evening, now that he couldn’t have Nina. “An inhaler…”, Palo said. “Was there a name on it?”, Tig asked. “No… But we know she used a .38”. “Those are some pretty weak leads”, Filip said. “Perhaps. But it’s something. And I’m going to use it to track her down… With your help”.

“What is it you want us to do? This happened in northern Cali", Bishop said. “I suspect she’s moving towards the border, trying to get across somehow, to avoid police investigation", Palo said. “As I understand it, your charter has been known to find ways to cross over with goods, without suspicion from authorities”. “What are you trying to say? That we helped her cross, in spite if your deal with El Padrino?”, Bishop said. “My deal is with Oakland", Palo said. “Different charter, same club", Tig said. “From our experience, Mayans are loyal to their brother-charters deals. They back each other". Palo looked at him with a scowl. “Maybe so…”. He turned his head towards Bishop. “I meant no disrespect. I am sure you back your brothers up north. “The same brothers you are saying you don’t trust", Bishop said. “That’s disrespect in itself".

Palo folded his hands, and smiled congenially. “Maybe we can rebuild that trust right now".

---

#angel reyes #angel reyes fic #angel reyes x oc #mayans mc #mayans mc fic #coco cruz #ez reyes #chibs telford #sons of anarchy

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

summertime sadness .2.

holiday

Sequel to kiss me in the d-a-r-k

Part 1 (masterlist under construction)

Warnings: dub con sex (intercourse, oral)

This is dark!(dad)Steve and dark(professor!)Bucky explicit. 18+ only.

Summary: You enjoy your last days of escape.

Note: Alrighty, we’re building up to the real crux of this installment and I am pumped to begin the next chapters because shit gon get wildin’. I hope you all enjoyed the first part and here’s a fluffy, smutty second chapter. Bon appetit. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think in a reblog, reply, or like.

💋💋💋

The jet lag lulled you into a heavy sleep. Even so, you woke up early as Steve snored loudly beside you. You suspected, had it not been for your exhaustion, your night would have been restless because as soon as you opened your eyes, you were thinking of the day before.

Your phone vibrated as if sensing your thoughts and you grabbed it as you climbed off the bed. It was a text from Kylie. ‘Missing out girl’. You read and crept into the living room. ‘Don’t rub it in’, you replied after several tries. Your stomach was fluttering. 

You were miles away and yet you felt just sending that message would give you away. As if she would sense your secret hidden between the letters. Your phone blipped as she returned a tongue out emoji and you countered with a thumbs up and set the phone aside with a sigh.

“Hungry?” Steve’s voice frightened you and you nearly jumped as you turned to him. “We’ll order some room service.”

He rubbed his eye with his knuckles as he took the menu from the coffee table and sat. “Eggs? Crepes?”

You sat beside him and looked over his shoulder. “Fruit and yogurt’s fine.”

“Boring,” He sounded like Kylie. “This is a vacation.”

“I’m not very hungry,” You argued as you crossed your arms and slouched against the couch. “But thanks.”

“Okay,” He shrugged as he reached for the phone on the table that stood by the arm of the couch. He dialed the extension and the other end picked up almost immediately as you closed your eyes. “Hi, I’ll get the Executive Breakfast and some yogurt and fruit to Suite 3a. Yes. And two mimosas…” You opened one eye and he peeked over at you with a grin. “Coffee too. Thanks.”

He hung up and sat back. He rubbed his shoulder against yours and leaned in. “

What’s going on, miss grumpy pants?”

“Please,” You pushed yourself to your feet. “Don’t talk to me like a child.”

“I’m not,” He argued. “Really? What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” You lied.

“We’re here to have fun so please… just tell me.”

“I just feel…” You looked around. “I dunno. I guess I’m just not used to all this.”

“So enjoy it,” He stood with a groan. “A nice day by the pool, hmm?”

You tried not to smile as he neared and pulled you to him. “I… my apartment could fit in here and more and my mom’s house is barely--”

“Do you ever think of yourself?” He interrupted.

“I think you know I do,” You let him wrap his arms around you. “I’ve grown too comfortable with being selfish.”

“Having fun isn’t selfish,” He insisted. “Don’t think of it like that.”

“Don’t you ever think… about what other people think?” You ran your hands along his shoulders. “When they see us together? I mean, they might not know us but--”

“They probably think I’m a lucky man,” He leaned in and kissed your forehead. “I don’t care what they think. Do you?”

“I don’t know, but I notice the looks.” You shrugged.

“Jealousy. Bitterness.” He said. “Let me tell you, if I could be your age again, I wouldn’t bother with caring about other people. It’s not worth it. Trust me.”

You smiled reluctantly. “I suppose…”

“Hey,” He caught your chin before you could look away. “You’re not stuck with me. If you’re not comfortable, if this doesn’t feel right, we can end it when you want. No hard feelings.”

You inhaled and gazed up at him. “No, I don’t want to end it, I just… am still trying to understand it. To understand myself.”

“You’re young, you’ve got time to figure yourself out,” He stroked your cheek with his thumb. “And this is just a step on that road.”

💋

The day was serene. After breakfast, you changed into your new swimsuit and settled into the pool with a book. Steve didn’t bother you much. You caught him watching you but he didn’t do much. When you climbed out and claimed one of the loungers, he followed you. 

You sat back and closed your book. You set it aside and he took it. He read the synopsis on the back cover and gave a ‘hmm’. A dry history of the American Railroad; two bucks out of the discount bin but surprisingly intriguing. He put it back where you left it and stretched across the other lounger.

“You excited?” He asked.

“About?” You adjusted your sunglasses as you bent your legs.

“Your new job.” He was unabashed as his eyes explored your figure.

“Oh, yeah, nervous.” You answered as you fidgeted. “I’m trying not to think too much about it.”

“Why?” He reached over and touched your hand. “It’ll be a foot in the door and you’re a great writer.”

“Am I? How would you know?”

“Bucky sent me a copy of your article. The one that got you the placement.” He explained and you looked at him, stunned.

“You read my article?” You gaped.

“Enjoyed it,” He smiled. “You’re gonna go far, you know that? You’ll be visiting Hawaii every year. Living the life.”

You laughed. “Okay, sure.” You pulled your hand away and wiped the sweat from your forehead.

“I mean it,” He said. “Any plans after your degree?”

“I don’t know. Maybe another or… We’ll see how this goes first.”

“Gee, I’m sorry,” He shook his head. “This was meant to be a nice little getaway and I just ruined it, didn’t I?”

“No, it’s fine,” You assured him. “Really. I’m just… anxious.”

“I can help your nerves,” He purred and you rolled your eyes at him. 

“Mmhmm,” You hung your arms over those of the chair and closed your eyes. “Nothing a little sun and dissociation won’t help.”

You ignored his shadow on the other side of your eyelids and the subtle shift of his lounger as he moved. You squeaked as you felt his fingers brush from ankle to knee. He pushed your legs apart as you opened your eyes. You tried to resist him but he was strong, insistent.

“Steve,” You whispered.

“Shh, it’s okay,” He bent over the end of the lounger and pulled you closer. You slid across it and tried to catch yourself on your arms. “No one can see us.”

“I don’t--” You gulped as he pulled aside the crotch of your bathing suit. “Steve, please, let’s go--”

His tongue was cool and your legs locked up around his head as he buried it between them. You hissed as he suckled at your clit and unable to push him away, you stretched your fingers across his head and urged him on. He was only too eager to bend to your will.

“St-e-ve,” You shuddered. “Pl-ease.”

He smiled against you as he drank you up. You whined and squeezed his head between your thighs as you contorted in pleasure. How simply he could wrap you around his finger. You arched into him as he grabbed your legs and pushed them over his shoulders. The lounger felt just as weak as you were.

You panted as he pushed you over the edge. Your orgasm was a song; a series of moans smothered beneath your palm. He hummed and lapped up your ecstasy. He was reluctant to pull away. Your legs trembled and slip from his shoulders as he sat up. He licked his glistening lips and fixed your swimsuit.

“Well,” He grabbed the lounger and pushed himself to his feet. “I think I need to cool down.” His shorts were tented with his arousal as he turned his back to you and stretched his arm above his head. He neared the pool and lowered himself into the water with a sigh. “How about you, sweetie?”

“Uh… yeah,” You breathed. “Sure.”

You were slow to rise and slightly dizzy as you got to your feet. You swept off your sunglasses and left them on the lounger. Your cum cooled against your swimsuit. You sat on the edge and carefully slid into the water.

Steve was quick to draw you to him and pin you against the wall. His broad chest pressed against yours as he kissed you. The water swayed gently around you. He held you to him and turned so that he was pressed to the tiled wall.

“You know,” He cupped your cheek with a damp hand. “I wanted to fuck you in the pool last summer but… well… if I’m being honest, I would’ve fucked you in every single room.”

You giggled and kissed him again. “You’re so dirty.” You teased as you pulled away.

“Oh, I never said I wasn’t,” He nuzzled your cheek as his hand glided along the curve of your side. “You should come down again. I can take you for a ride on the motorcycle… finally finished that old beast.”

“I don’t think--”

“Kylie will be visiting for Thanksgiving this year,” He offered. “You can tag along with her if you’re free.”

“I don’t know, my mom--”

“Of course,” He dragged his nose along your chin and pecked along your throat. “We’ll figure something out.”

His hand slipped down and he lifted your leg. He hooked it around his hip and pushed down his shorts beneath the water. You looked down and your eyes rounded. He took your hand and wrapped it around his dick. You grasped him and raised your head slowly. You began to stroke him and he shivered.

“You can take me for a ride now,” You grinned.

“Oh yeah,” He grabbed your ass and lifted you easily.

You clung to him with one arm as you angled him beneath the water. You shoved your swimsuit aside with two fingers and quickly pushed him inside. You bit your lip as you slid down his length and he let out a long breath. You rocked against him and moaned in his ear.

“Mmm,” He purred. “Sweetie, you’re so sexy.”

“Yeah?” You preened as you rode him slowly. “You like that?”

“I love it,” He assured you as he squeezed your ass. “I just… couldn’t help myself. Watching you all day…” His hot breath crept down your neck as he spoke. “Reading over there with no clue how hard you were making me… the way your lips move just slightly…”

You moaned again and he bent to nibble along your throat. He led you up and down as his impatience grew. His teeth pinched your skin, sure to leave a mark, but you didn’t care. The water splashed around you as you crushed him against the wall of the pool. You tossed your head back and sped up.

You were frantic for release. His name rolled off your tongue as you chased your climax. Your core pulsed hotly and all at once the coil snapped. You came with shrill mewl but didn’t slow. You grabbed Steve’s head and smushed your lips against his. You parted as you bounced against him and your lips quivered.

“I want you to cum in me,” The words sent a thrill through you. “Please.”

“You sure?” He rasped and you nodded with a hum.

He smirked and turned you suddenly. He pushed you against the tile and pounded into you harder than before. You cried out with each thrust and he growled as he gripped the edge of the pool. He grunted as his hips jerked wildly. A warm gush filled you, searing as the cool water flowed around your bodies. 

He shivered as he stilled and sank into you entirely. He stepped out of his shorts that had slumped to his ankles. He moved away from the wall, still inside you and walked with you in his arms to the steps of the pool. He climbed them slowly and the water dripped from your intertwined bodies. He carried you through the glass doors.

“What are you doing?” You asked as the haze cleared.

“I’m gonna do exactly what I always wanted,” He snarled and fell onto the couch with you under him. “I’m going to fuck you on every piece of furniture in this place.” He rocked his hips and spasmed as your walls clung to his oversensitive cock. “And then again. And again.” He spoke with each tilt of his hips. “And again.”

💋

Three days and then you were headed back to the city. The weekend had gone much like the beginning. By the end, you’d forgotten the worries that awaited you back home; the underlying duplicity of your tryst. The plane ride was long enough for it all to come hurtling back but you staved it off for your last twelve hours of bliss. With your hand in Steve’s, you let him hold the load for you.

And when you landed in New York and you’d retrieved his rover from the lot, you were ready to sleep off your doubts. He stopped outside your apartment. You could tell he was sad to see it. You lingered in the car as he leaned over to kiss you.

“So…” He said as he pulled back, his arm across your seat. “I’ll see you...later.”

“Yeah, I don’t know how much time I’ll have off,” You lamented. “But I’ll call you.”

“Facetime?” He asked coyly.

“Hmm,” You chewed your lip. “You sure you can figure it out?”

“Hey,” He retorted at the jibe. “I think you know age barely hinders me.”

“We can try,” You said. “I’ve never… it might be awkward.”

“Never,” He assured you. “But I’ll be coming down in September to help Kylie move back into dorms.”

“Kylie…” You echoed. “So, is she still trashin’ your place?”

“As far as I know,” He grumbled. “But I’ll deal with that when I get there. Maybe I’ll just cancel her little girls’ trip seeing as she’s already had her fair share of fun.”

“I wouldn’t even know where to begin with her,” You shook your head. “Well…”

“I can stay another night.” He offered.

“No, no, you should get going. I got a lot of stuff to do for this new job and some commissions to finish.” You said glumly. “Thanks. For everything. I had a lot of fun.”

“Me too,” He kissed you again. “I’ll tell Bucky to take it easy on you.”

“He’s not so bad. I don’t think I’m in his section next year but we’ll see,” You chimed. “Drive safe.”

“I will, sweetie. I--” He stopped himself and glanced out the windshield. “You let me know how the job goes, okay?”

“Will do,” You said as you grabbed your purse. “See ya.”

“Yeah, see ya,” He nodded stiffly. “Goodbye.”

You kissed him one last time before you got and grabbed your bag from the trunk. You stepped up on the curve and he gave a small wave as he pulled away. You watched him go and turned to your building. The ivy creeping along the aged brick dragged you back from the sunny serenity of Hawaii.

Time to get back to real life.

#summertime sadness #kiss me in the d-a-r-k #Steve Rogers #Bucky Barnes #dad!steve rogers x reader #dad!steve rogers #professor!bucky barnes #professor!bucky barnes x reader #dark!steve rogers #dark!bucky barnes #dark steve rogers #dark bucky barnes #dark steve rogers x reader #dark bucky barnes x reader #dark!steve rogers x reader #dark!bucky barnes x reader #series #sequel #au #fic #marvel #mcu #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes x reader

[justjessame]

A Little Ass and A Lotta Sass Chapter 19:  Harsh Realities...AKA Alexandria's Safety at What Cost?

Not long after we finished dinner, the knock came to the door to announce a round of ‘who gets to guard Negan’s baby’ inside and out. Two women and two men, all fierce looking, and all who would be terrifying to me, if I hadn’t survived the hellscape for as long as I had. I waited, seated in the chair I’d eaten dinner in, as Negan pointed each out to me and waited for me to ask questions to decide who of these warriors would lead my own version of his little security detail.

“Laura,” Negan pointed to a blonde woman with an fascinating neck tattoo. “Arat,” the woman who’d killed Olivia without flinching. “Jared,” a long-haired man who flicked a look at me and then refocused on his fearless leader. And “David,” the other man, who should have looked away after meeting my eyes, but seemed unable to stop himself from looking and licking his lips.

I studied them from my perch as Negan came to stand beside me. I knew, even if he wasn’t thinking of doing it, that this was my first challenge. My first test of my little talent. And so, I relaxed and took in the four people standing at attention in front of me. David was a hard no, I could tell that from the moment his eyes met my person. I’d say my own eyes, but honestly he wasn’t looking at my face. No, his eyes were roving over me in a way that made me want to take a long hot shower in Clorox. If I wanted him dead, I’d draw attention to it, but I had a feeling with the way he was looking at me, Negan would have his blood on his hands sooner rather than later.

Jared, the other man was the exact opposite. He’d barely glanced at me, which begged the question of why? Why couldn’t he look at me? Was it fear of Negan? Or was it something else?

“Jared?” I asked, forcing him to flick his gaze at me again to show he was listening. “What weapon are you most dominant in?” A safe question, for most to answer, but the answers were always telling.

I could see several thoughts flit across his face. The way his jaw tensed. The flinch of his irritation at being asked to account for anything to the likes of me. I watched, silent and waiting, but before he could muster his answer, I moved on.

“Laura?” I watched Jared’s face, seeing it burn red at being skipped over from his answer, and continued. “Would you be comfortable leaving Negan’s personal service for mine?”

“Absolutely,” Laura was grinning at me and I felt like she was being not only honest, but serious. I’m sure she felt watching over me would be a vacation of sorts. “I’m willing to perform whatever detail Negan asks, or you, if necessary.” I liked her. There wasn’t that shadow that seemed to float over most of his Saviors.

I smiled, and nodded, my eyes still on Jared. He was fuming. “Jared? Have you finally come to an answer?” I could see him fighting against growling out an answer to me, and to be honest, I didn’t need to pay attention to what he said. It didn’t matter. I knew he wouldn’t be safe near me, or vice versa.

I looked at the final woman. “Arat,” It wasn’t a question, because, while she looked as sincere in her willingness to guard me, I wouldn’t take her from Negan’s side. This warrior woman was the one person in the entire room that I would trust his life with bar none. And for that reason, I wouldn’t entertain keeping her for myself. “I think that I’d rather you stay in your current position, if you don’t mind.” Her curt nod, meeting my eyes and a small smirk finding her lips, was all I needed to know we understood one another.

David wouldn’t be asked any questions. Not now, at least. I crooked my finger to Negan, so he’d lean forward for my decision, as though it wasn’t obvious. Laura would lead my team. I’d have time tomorrow to sit with her, and discuss anyone else she wanted to add.

Once the four were dismissed, Jared shooting me daggers with his eyes and David looking like he’d missed out on his favorite fucking meal, Negan closed the door behind them and locked it. He turned to me, questions heavy on his mind.

“David is dangerous.” I said, standing and collecting our dinner dishes. “Not to you, possibly, but to all the women he deems worthy of his notice. Seeing David, might mean every single person here with a vagina.” I heard his hand rub down his face. I shrugged. “He couldn’t keep his eyes off of me, and not my lovely face.”

I felt Negan’s arms wrap around me from behind and leaned back into his chest. “Jared hates authority. Especially a woman’s. And he hates to be questioned.” I felt Negan stiffen. “One day soon it’s going to end badly for him, he’s going to press the wrong person, and he’ll end up dead.” I said it as matter-of-fact as I could, because it was true.

“And Arat-”

“You don’t want her because she killed your friend.” He answered for me, and I turned in his arms and looked up at him.

I shook my head and cupped his cheek. “No,” my voice was quiet, but sure. “I don’t want Arat because she doesn’t hesitate to protect you. She’s fierce, she’s loyal and she doesn’t flinch to keep your ass alive. I won’t take her because with her beside you, I know you’ll keep coming back to me.” And there it was. My own proof of how I felt without saying the ‘l’ word.

The look on his face was priceless. I’m sure it was the same one I’d worn when he’d made his own declaration about his feelings about me. And then he lowered his head and our lips met, that fire that he’d begged me to recognize in the laundry room in Alexandria flared up. For once, he knew that I felt it too. Just as strongly, just as real.

Our morning began as our mornings were destined to begin every day from here to the end of time, wrapped up in one another, a moment of irritation from me for the daring nature of the sun to wake me up, and then Negan reminding me why being awake with him wasn’t such a horrible experience. As we sat at breakfast, me in his discarded t-shirt, him shirtless and irresistible, we talked.

I was slowly learning that with Negan, it wasn’t just physical. We could talk, about Sanctuary business and about how I could see things that he didn’t notice, along with our pasts. This morning, he reminded me of my promise to tell him about my stellar romantic history. AKA how many times and places had Callie gotten caught in the middle of something?

I’d just finished telling him about the time my best friend’s entire family had walked in on her brother and I in their living room, his laughter rolling around me when he glanced up, those gorgeous eyes of his dark with desire. I licked my lip, and went for the one that I knew would make him the most shocked.

“Then there was the time I got caught by Dad’s fellow sheriff deputies.” Negan’s eyes widened, his grin so full that I almost lost sight of his dimples. “Bar parking lot, after hours, got too hot in the truck so we opened the door. He had me bent over the seat and I was ALMOST there, when the spot light hit us, and there were two honorary uncles telling us to get the fuck home.” I stopped, and took a drink of water for a dramatic pause. “I asked if we could finish first, because I was nearly there.”

That did it, Negan pounded the table with his fist, laughter bursting from him like a broken fire hydrant. “Oh my god, princess, that’s too fucking much. What the fuck did Rick say?”

I blushed, bright burning red. “Um, yeah, well it was even worse. One of those ‘uncles’ mentioned to Dad that he hadn’t noticed how grown I’d gotten.” Dad had slapped the fuck out of that guy, not Shane, but another gross ass deputy. “He nearly got put on suspension for hitting the fucker, said it was worth it, and begged me to THINK about where I was when the urge hit.” I shrugged and bit my lip at the memory. It was gross, thinking about someone who’d watched me grow up and still had that thought hit him when I was in the throws of passion with someone else. Ew.

He was watching my face, and I saw that cloud descend. He was agreeing with Dad, I could tell, and I was thankful that that deputy was most certainly dead now. Negan, needing a break, changed topics.

“Your talent was impressive last night.” He started, finishing his breakfast. “I’ll be keeping David under more scrutiny. I fucking hate men who think women are prey.” I considered his look as he’d crawl up the bed, predatory, but fully consensual and understood. “As for Jared,” he sighed and sat back. I hadn’t been able to fully articulate his danger. Yet, he knew that he was dangerous, I had a feeling he heard it from others. “He’s been working with Gavin collecting from the Kingdom.” I felt my stomach flip. The Kingdom? Hadn’t they been released from their servitude, like Alexandria? “Gavin told me he was having issues with him, but Dwight mentioned a change of duty might help.” Of course, Dwight mentioned. My thoughts were still twisted, curious about the Kingdom and what this information meant. “I’ll have to consider what his next spot will be.”

“The Kingdom?” I asked, taking another drink, feeling a bit dizzy at the thought that I really should have listened to the treaty that came at the price of me being here. “Aren’t they included in the deal Dad made with you?” They had helped, were helping, by giving Carol a place to recoup from her freak out during the attacks. Hell, it had been Jesus that had helped Carl find the Sanctuary.

Negan’s look was one of shock. “Sweetheart, no.” He shook his head, staring at me with wonder. Clearly he assumed I knew more than I obviously did. “The only community that’s had their requirements levied was Alexandria. I told you, I was only willing to give up that.” He was reminding me of the vagueness I’d listened to. Shit. “Callie, you knew that, I told you.” It was nearly a plea. Nearly, but tinged with exasperation at my disbelief.

I swallowed the knot that was growing in my throat. “Yeah, I did.” I nodded, feeling the fear for Maggie, situated in Hilltop, at the mercy of that idiot Gregory. “Sorry, must have been a few longer days than I thought.” I was trying to keep my panic at bay, trying to keep myself calm, but I realized that I’d consider myself part martyr for choosing him, and I hadn’t even thought to hear the full details. I was going to have to censor my thoughts or ideas about Maggie, didn't Negan think she died? I’d have to pray that she wasn’t attempting to create an army to fight him, and for the first time I wasn’t entirely sure which side I’d be on in that fight.

Negan was watching me, of course, and I knew even without my little talent he’d read me fairly well. He saw far more than most people would give him credit for, seeing only the cock surety of his personality and the ego he allowed flow around him like armor, but I knew. I knew that he could see more and figure out how to appease it, or use it to his advantage.

“Callie,” his voice urged me to look at him. And like a moth to a flame, I complied with both the power of his voice and my own need to see him. “You have to understand,” he was trying to explain himself, trying to make me realize his reasoning, and I did. It didn’t make it an easier pill to swallow. “This place runs as well as it does, it stays going and we stay safe because of the other communities.” I nodded, knowing this, but feeling him trying to reassure me helped calm me somewhat. “I’m not unfair, sweetheart, even if the parts that you heard sound like it, even if the way you experienced it made it seem like it.” I knew he was thinking about our beds. “We keep them safe, we keep ourselves going. That’s it. Taxation.”

“Without representation?” I asked, not judging, but trying so desperately to really understand. I knew my eyes were showing how desperate I was for him to calm me, to show me who he was under the badass leader I’d seen, that one that turned me on, and the one that everyone feared.

He sighed. “People are resources, Callie.” His tell, a hand rubbing down his face, showing his feeling of losing control of any situation. “I, we, don’t fucking kill people randomly. No matter how it might seem from the situation your dad put me in. Every community I, we take supplies from, helps build us, and in return-”

“Safety,” I repeat. What are they gaining security from, I wondered? Unknown dangers, or looking at the father of my unborn child, you?

#negan x ofc #the walking dead #Smut #alternate universe

[anne-wentworth]

Emptiness to Melody

Peter doesn't really sleep anymore. Sometimes Morgan can't either. They find solace in each other.

Read on ao3

After everything, Peter found himself spending weekends at the lake house. It was reminiscent of a time when he would spend all of his free moments at the compound, eagerly modifying his suit with Tony, bouncing around ideas or quietly doing his homework while the older man worked on a project of his own, or simply sprawled out eating takeout when Pepper had to work late.

That was five years ago.

God.

He still couldn’t believe it sometimes. All of those seconds, minutes, hours lost. Days and weeks and months and during which, Mr. Stark had built the house by the lake. Had built a family.

And had left it all behind to save the universe.

The grief would come in waves, but it was easier for Peter to deal with in the home that Tony had put so much care into. Surrounded by the people who loved him most.

May would come up to the house with him whenever she was able to get time off. She had looked at Morgan for the first time at the funeral and Peter saw the same expression she wore the day she took him in.

I’m sorry he’d overheard her softly saying to Pepper as she quickly wiped away tears before her daughter could see. I know what it’s like to lose someone you love.

So, they were a ragtag bunch, with Happy and Rhodey dropping by whenever they could, all holding each other together. All keeping the others from completely falling apart.

Tonight though, the sadness was threatening to drown him. Sleep had deserted him ever since he came back, leaving him at the mercy of his thoughts which were sometimes as bad as his nightmares. After staring at the ceiling for hours, Peter ended up venturing down to Tony’s lab. He sat in his chair, merely looking at everything, almost afraid to touch anything lest something shatter.

The world felt fragile.

Peter felt as if he had been walking on ice ever since he returned. Part of him kept waiting to disappear again. A reckless part of him wanted to.

But he shoved those feelings aside, wrapping them up in a box never to be opened because Tony sacrificed his damn self so that he could have a shot at life. Instead he stared at the work station, a space Tony had undoubtedly spent hours at. His ghost lingered everywhere.

Peter let the aching weave its threads around his heart as he wished for a person who didn’t exist anymore. As he longed for more time.

Time.

It was always time.

Too little. Too much. Not enough. Gone.

Suddenly, he rose because he couldn’t stay here any longer he couldn’t…he just couldn’t.

Peter turned to leave but before he could get very far, a small figure sitting at the bottom of the stairs startled the hell out of him.

“Shit!” he exclaimed, clutching his chest.

The corner of Morgan’s mouth instantly quirked up.

“What are you doing up?” he asked, making his way over to her.

“What are you doing up?” she countered, in true Stark fashion.

“Can’t sleep,” Peter responded as he sat down beside her.

“Me too.”

Morgan stared off into the direction of Tony’s desk and chair, eyes distant. Peter watched, that familiar wonder rising within him whenever he so much as glanced at her.

Tony’s child.

It was still so strange.

“Me and daddy used to eat juice pops when we couldn’t sleep,” Morgan said abruptly, breaking Peter out of his thoughts.

Her voice was so tiny as she kept staring at the space she must have watched her father work countless times before. Almost as if she stared hard enough, she would be able to conjure him up.

If only it worked that way.

“How about we have some juice pops?” Peter asked, ready to steal the stars from the sky for this little girl just to see her smile.

She was quiet for a moment, weighing the offer in her mind.

“Okay,” she finally answered.

Peter stood up, holding out his hand. She clasped hers in his and together they headed to the kitchen, where Peter grabbed two juice pops from the freezer before they settled in the living room.

Silence blanketed them as they ate, the occasional crinkle of the wrappers the only sound to be heard. Peter remembered being a kid and losing his parents and then later on losing Ben. He remembered that there wasn’t a thing anyone could have said to make him feel better. The only reprieve from the constant weight on his chest was May’s arms around him, holding him when he couldn’t keep the tears at bay any longer.

So, Peter put his arm around Morgan, pulling her closer against him.

He wiped her mouth with the edge of his sleeve and she looked at him with the same sadness that lived in his own eyes now too.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, hating himself for such a stupid question but he didn’t know what else to say.

Morgan merely shrugged in response.

“I miss him too,” he confessed softly into the night air.

“Is that why you were downstairs?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s why I was there too,” Morgan admitted. “Sometimes I forget. That he’s…gone.”

Every one of Peter’s heartstrings snapped in two as he thought of Morgan unable to sleep, running down to her dad’s lab to look for him only to find someone else instead. Someone she still barely even knew.

“I forget too,” he told her. “All the time.”

She got quiet again for a moment and Peter wished with everything in him that there was something he could do to help.

“He used to miss you too,” she said after a while.

“What?” Peter asked confusedly.

“While you were…before you came back. Daddy missed you. He had a picture of the two of you that he used to look at all the time when he thought no one was looking.”

“Really?” he managed to get out, all of the breath stolen from his lungs as his throat threatened to close up.

“Yeah,” Morgan nodded seriously. “But I notice everything.”

“I’m sure you do.”

Your dad never missed a thing either he wanted to say but the words got stuck on his tongue as he struggled to hold himself together. He didn’t need to have another breakdown in front of Morgan.

“He used to tell me stories about you too. At bedtime.”

And that was all it took for the tears to start streaming down his face.

“Sorry,” he mumbled as he quickly tried to wipe them away.

“It’s okay,” she said softly. “Mommy said it’s okay to cry.”

“Well your mommy’s very smart.”

“Daddy says she’s the smartest person-” Morgan began but suddenly she faltered. “I mean he used to say…she’s the smartest person in the world…”

She trailed off and Peter broke, every inch of him in pieces.

“Tell me about your favourite story,” he said, grasping at anything he could get his hands on, desperate for any form of distraction to ease the sorrow that surrounded her. “A bedtime story. Anything.”

“Um,” she paused to think for a minute but then her eyes became full of quiet mischief. “I like the one where daddy had to save your ass at the ferry.”

“Okay he did not have to save my-” he broke off. “Hey wait. You’re not allowed to say that word.”

“Why not?” she inquired indignantly. “You say it, mommy says it, Uncle Happy and Uncle Rhodey say it. Even Aunt May says it.”

Peter resisted the urge to tell her that his aunt said a lot of words that were much worse than ass.

“That’s because we’re grown-ups so we can say all the bad words we want.”

“You’re not a grown up!” she argued. “You’re still in high school.”

Peter almost laughed because technically he was twenty-two. According to his birth certificate and ID and everything else because he still hadn’t collected his new documents that indicated he was one of the people who had been dusted.

But if he pulled on that thread he would unravel so he buried that thought too.

“Well I’m almost a grown-up,” was what he said instead. “So, it counts.”

“So, when I’m your age I’ll be allowed to say ass too?” Morgan asked innocently.

Peter narrowed his eyes at her in a mock glare. Then, without warning, he grabbed one of the throw pillows from the couch and gently hit her with it.

“Hey!” she exclaimed before stealing it out of his hands and not so gently flinging it in his face.

Peter sputtered, and Morgan laughed, and the sound nearly made him weep with joy.

“Oh, you just made a big mistake,” he warned.

In seconds he was off the couch with another pillow in his arms, chasing the five year old around the room. She shrieked, getting in some good blows of her own and Peter had to admit, she was damn strong for someone so small. They tripped over themselves in their haste to dodge each other’s hits, collecting more cushions to use as shields and to throw across the room. They almost knocked over a vase four times.

Morgan’s laughter mixed with her screams and Peter half heartedly tried to shush her but truthfully, he never wanted her to stop. Besides, he didn’t think anyone else would mind being awoken by such noises. It was almost like music.

Their battle finally ended with Peter lying on the ground and Morgan leaning over him with a pillow poised over his head.

“Surrender or die!” she threatened.

“Okay! Okay I surrender,” he complied, holding his arms out in a gesture of truce.

With a smile, she eased her weapon down on the floor beside him.

Peter took in her dishevelled state and bit back a laugh.

“I think its time for you to go to bed,” he said, reaching out to move some of the hair from out of her face.

Surprisingly, she didn’t protest, silently moving off of Peter so that he could get up. That was how he knew she had really worn herself out.

After he stood, he picked her up to take her to her room. She rested her head on his shoulder, wrapping her little arms around his neck as she yawned.

Upon reaching her bedroom, Peter gently lowered her on to the bed, tugging the blankets over her already half-sleeping form. He watched her for a moment, unable to keep himself from wishing that Tony was here to tuck her into bed too.

There was no point in wishing.

He had learned long ago that they didn’t come true.

He turned to exit the room, absently wondering if the night would bring sleep for him as well.

“Pete?” Morgan’s voice called out quietly just before he could leave.

“Yeah,” he replied, spinning on his heel.

“Can you stay?”

His chest cracked open at the request, his heart laid bare for all the world to see.

“Of course.”

And so, he climbed into bed next to her, gathering her in his arms as she snuggled against him. For the first time since he returned, a feeling resembling sunshine swam through his veins, warming his entire being. Flowers could have bloomed in his stomach and he wouldn’t have been surprised.

“Goodnight Morgan,” he whispered. “I love you.”

“Love you too Petey,” she mumbled drowsily.

Petey.

He smiled at the new nickname, letting those two syllables wash over him.

There was a lot Peter had lost in his life. But there was so much he’d gained too. And Morgan Stark…she was the latest to build a home in his heart.

Peter remembered tentatively asking Pepper about the old arc reactor a few days after the funeral.

Proof that Tony Stark has a heart.

A small smile had graced her features as she told him the story of the gift she gave Tony another lifetime ago. Peter remembered thinking that she was wrong. The proof of Tony’s heart back then had been her.

Her and Rhodey and Happy.

Then came the Avengers.

Then him.

And now Morgan.

In each of them, Tony lived on.

Peter didn’t think he would ever stop missing him. But as his eyes fell shut, he took comfort in the fact that he would never truly be gone. Everyone under this roof carried a piece of Tony Stark with them. They always would.

At that moment, Peter’s grief ebbed, the waves receding if only for a little while. But it was enough.

That night, he slept.

#post endgame fic #peter parker fic #morgan stark #peter parker and morgan stark #mine #shoutout to that hozier lyric generator for giving me a fic title lmao #endgame spoilers

[eric-raleigh]

Requested by @energiefeminine

I promise I’ll proof this later for errors, but it’s waaaaaaay past my bedtime. I wanted to get this done.

“What are you wearing right now?”

Eric felt his cheeks erupt into flames, and he knew he was blushing straight to his equally red hairline. “You did not just ask me what I’m wearing…”

Aaron huffed a laugh on the other end of the phone before continuing on in a smarmy tone. “I bet I can guess.”

“Oh? You think so?” Eric smirked, a playful challenge in his words.

“I do. I bet you’re in bed in those cute polar bear pj bottoms and one of my t-shirts. Sandy snuggled up next to you, the TV on mute.”

There was a hesitation on Eric’s end of the line before his eyes darted around the corners of the room. “What...did you install cameras in here or something?”

This time a full-bellied laugh erupted from Aaron, and Eric could hear the smug smirk on his partner’s face. “Nope, I just know you that well.” There was a small pause before Aaron spoke again, tender adoration in his voice. “What shirt are you wearing?”

“You seem to be omniscient all of a sudden,” Eric returned with feigned impudence. “Why don’t you tell me?”

“I’d rather take it off of you instead.”

Again, Aaron’s voice dipped into a sultry quality, and Eric blushed again. “Someone’s feeling feisty”

“I’ve been stuck with my parents for two weeks,” Aaron complained. “I miss you, and I’m lonely.”

He’d gone to help his mother out with cooking and taking care of the house after his father had fallen down a set of stairs and broken his leg. “I miss you too, babe.”

“Come on,” Aaron cajoled gently. “Tell me what you’d do with me if I was there.”

Eric sighed softly, but couldn’t help but smile, and unable to resist teasing, “You mean other than make you rub my feet?”

Aaron chuckled softly, but didn’t rise to the bait.  Eric sank back against the pillow, nudging Aaron’s dog until the mutt got annoyed enough to jump off the bed and find a less irritating place to sleep. His fingertips rolled the drawstring of his pajama pants idly as he let his mind envision that Aaron was there.

“I’d curl up against you while we watch TV. Let my fingers drag up and down your forearm like you like. Then I’d start to nuzzle your neck, kiss along your jaw until you either kissed me back or I made you kiss me. I’d move into your lap, straddle you and pin your hands back against the headboard and attack that little spot behind your ear that drives you wild.”

Aaron exhaled a soft, sensual puff of air, and Eric could tell the man was imagining the scene...and probably touching himself. The thought was arousing and Eric slid his hand into the elastic waistband of his pj pants, skimming his abdomen before palming himself.

“I’d feel you getting hard...grind against you a little...Make you beg me to suck your cock.”

“Er…” Aaron breathed, lost in pleasure.

Eric’s lip corners turned up into a smirk and he held the phone with his shoulder as he pushed his bottoms down with is other hand. “You like that, baby? You like when I suck your cock?”

“God yes,” Eric could hear Aaron breathing heavily into the receiver. “Your mouth is always so warm...so wet. You take me so deep I feel like I’m gonna cum in the first five seconds. I even love when you accidentally scrape me with your teeth.”

A scoff forced its way out of Eric, and he rolled his eyes automatically. He hated his bottom teeth; the incisors had always been crooked, two of them slanting at a slight angle and crowding out the third so that it was pushed back out of alignment. These were the teeth that usually ended up scraping the underside of Aaron’s cock if he got a little too overzealous, and Eric was always mortified when it happened.

“I do,” Aaron asserted, knowing exactly what the scoff was about.

“You’re the only one who does…”

There was a stunted laugh on the other end of the line before Aaron quipped, “You have other boyfriends I don’t know about?”

“Yes,” Eric deadpanned. “They’re all over here right now. We were in the middle of a massive P&P party when you called.”

“Why am I never invited?”

Eric could hear the smile his lover was wearing in that moment, and smiled in return. “Blame your dad for breaking his leg, you could have been here with a mountain of cocaine and ecstasy and god knows what else.”  Neither of them had ever done any hardcore drugs--a little experimenting with pot in college, but nothing illicit. The sheer idea of being involved in that scene was ludicrous in Eric’s mind.

Aaron was chuckling again, an easy, lighthearted rumble that pulled at Eric’s loins. He loved whenever they bantered like this. Sinking down against the pillow, Eric’s hand started to move on himself again.  

“So what would you do while I’m sucking you off?”

There was a low, sultry hum as Aaron fell back into the mood. “Watch you take every inch of me, run my fingers through your hair...pull it a little bit.  Let you bring me close to the edge, but stop you before I cum.”

Eric licked his lips unconsciously.

“Then I’d make you get on all fours,” Aaron was starting to pant slightly again. “Eat you until we didn’t even need lube--” That never came to fruition, they would always, always use lube no matter how slick either of them were, but it was a sexy thought nonetheless. “Tease you with just the tip before I slowly burying deep inside of you.”

“Yes…” Eric was the breathless one now, his hand stroking as he gobbled up the images being fed to him.

“I love being inside of you, love the way you feel on my cock,” Aaron confessed, a soft moan leaving his lips.

“I love you being inside of me. Love the way you grip my hip with one hand and my shoulder with the other.”

“Fuck...yes,” Aaron swore, puffing out several heavy breaths.

Eric stroked faster, trying to match Aaron’s pace despite the fact that he wasn’t sure how fast Aaron was working himself. However, he’d grown accustomed to the sounds the man made during sex and felt he had a pretty good idea.

“I love it when you pound into me, the sound of our bodies slapping together…”

“Yeah? You like it a little rough?”

Eric blushed softly, “I like it when you smack my ass.”

Aaron moaned in response, several more heavy breaths Eric’s only response.

“How close are you?”

“Very. You?”

Just the idea of Aaron getting off to this conversation ratcheted up Eric’s arousal level, pushing him closer to climax. He knew he’d peak as soon as he heard Aaron cum. “Almost there.”

“I wish you were here with me, riding my cock…”

The image of fucking in Aaron’s parents’ guest room was somewhat enticing. His parents still hadn’t completely accepted he was gay, insistent that this was a phase and he just needed to meet the right girl. It would feel almost like karma to bring Aaron to climax in that house. Some kind of justice or retribution for all the shit they had put Aaron through over the course of his life. Eric would make sure to be loud as hell just out of spite.

“I wish I could feel you cum inside of me.”

“God...fuck...yes, Er,” Aaron spoke through gritted teeth. “I’m so fucking close. I’m gonna cum…”

“Cum for me, Aaron.”

There was a muffled sob that sounded far away and the sound of rustling.  Eric could imagine that Aaron had dropped the phone to bite into his hand in order to keep from crying out as he came, and the mental picture of his lover in the throes of an intense orgasm, sent him careening into his own release.

It took several moments after the last wave of his orgasm passed for Eric to slow his breathing back to a normal rate. His lips were dry from panting, and he licked them as he reached for a couple of tissues on the nightstand. “That was a first…”

“Yeah, but a good one,” Aaron still sounded breathless, but Eric could hear the lazy, sated smile painted on his lips.

“A very good one.”

“I love you so much.”

The words always managed to make Eric’s heart flip in his chest. He bit his lip as his face cracked with a wide, happy grin. “You know... I always had a hunch.”

Aaron laughed softly.

“I love you, too,” Eric followed up sincerely.  “Come home soon. I miss you.”

“Soon as I can and not a minute later,” Aaron promised. “I’ll talk to you later, babe.”

“Goodnight, Aar.”

“Goodnight, Er.”

#inside the mind of a ginger #drabble #wagers on whether or not it gets flagged? #n. s. f. w.

[winmance]

Show him what he’s missing

Wincest Writing Challenge - Round 18: April 2018 @wincestwritingchallenge

@wxncesters vs @winmance

Prompt : Relationship Milestones - First kiss

Pairing : Sam Winchester/Dean Winchester

Word Count : 1838

Tags : Underage (Sam is 15, Dean 19), jealous Dean, tease Sam

AO3 link

Sam is beautiful.

There’s no other word for Dean to describe him.

At 15, he finally grown up, even if he’s still shorter than Dean, at least for now, and his legs seem to never stop.

His hair grown up too, but while Sam used to put them in front of his face to hide, now, he puts them behind his ear, curling them a little with his fingers each time he does it.

That’s another thing, too. Because Sam, his baby brother who asked for bed time stories and didn’t understand why people would kiss, or why Dean would look at the waitress so much, this innocent and pure little brother, he’s gone. Dead and buried, and Dean didn’t even saw it until it was too late.

Now Sam wears too tight pants, with t shirt that look more like crop than anything else. He bends over every time he can do it, sometimes even when it’s unnecessary. When they practice, he lets out the obscenest moans, and more than once, Dean had to run to the bathroom after their session.

What kind of freak thinks about his brother when he jerks off?

The one that deserves to die, painfully and without any consideration.

He tries to stop, he did. When dad leaves them alone, he goes out and brings as many girls as possible, not carrying that he needs to be drunk to find them slightly attractive. He never really cared about the appearance, but now, all the girls he comes home with have black hair and bleu eyes, because it’s easier to imagine them to be Sam this way.

“You’re going out tonight?” Sam asks, sitting on the chair with one leg under him, and the other hanging up in the air. He’s chewing on his pen, and Dean can’t stop looking at these lips, these sinful pink lips that would looked so good wrapped around – “Dean?”

Dean snapped back to reality, Sam looking at him with raised eyebrows.

“You’re ok?”

“Yeah, sure” He says, taking a beer out of the fridge “and yes, I’m going out tonight”

“Can I come?”

He’s about to say no but when he turns around, Sam is looking at him with his puppies’ eyes, hope readable on his face.

It’s not fair to make Sam pay for something that isn’t his fault. He didn’t choose to have a freak brother like Dean.

“Of course, Sammy” Dean voice is soft, way to soft, but it’s worth it to see the way Sam smiles.

“Cool! I’ll go change”

“You’re great like that”

“No, it’s not good enough” Sam says, already running in the bathroom

Dean sights, letting himself fall on the bed. He can’t drink to much tonight, he’ll have to get Sam back at the motel and he doesn’t want to drive while being drunk with him in the car. That and the fact that he’s not sure he’ll be able to control himself if he has alcohol in his system.

“Come on grandpa” Sam throws a pillow on Dean’s face, making him sit up immediately.

His mind is dizzy but he’s not sure if it’s from raising up to fast or because of Sam.

He’s wearing a short, way too close to his body, his perfect ass looking even more firm and round in it, with a black tank top that move on the side every time Sam does something, reveling his pink nipple.

“You’re gonna wear that?”

“Yeah, I mean, it’s freaking hot”

“What?” Dean asks, not sure to have heard correctly what Sam said

“I said it’s hot, outside”

“Oh” Dean sights, rubbing his eyes “Yes, of course. Let’s go ok?”

Sam frowns but doesn’t ask anything, simply follows Dean to the car.

Maybe Dean should have chosen a dinner, or even a restaurant, anything but a freaking bar. They didn’t even checked Sam fake ID, and the second they walked through the door, Dean could see at least ten men looking at Sam with hungry eyes.

“We should go somewhere else”

“What? No, it’s good here” Sam says, already sitting around a table” Look, there’s pizza!”

Dean sights, knowing that he can’t win again him, before sitting too. He’s aware of Sam talking, but he can’t listen to him, not when there’s so many men looking at him- And yeah, maybe no one is really looking at him except for the two men behind them, but it’s already too much for him. How can they look at his brother like he’s just a piece of meat? Can’t they see how much than that Sam is? They don’t know how smart he’s, how big his heart is, how he has dimples when he smiles and the most funny laugh ever.

They don’t know how soft he looks, when he’s looking at the sky, his head next to Dean, telling him is most precious secrets.

“I’m in love with a boy” Sam said one night “But I don’t… He doesn’t like me this way. Won’t ever love me this way”

Dean remembers how his stomach twisted in pain at Sam’s words. He tried to get a name out of him, but Sam washed him out, telling him that he doesn’t know him anyway.

“Dean, are you listening?” Sam asks, looking slightly hurt

“Hum? Yeah, of course”

“You don’t… You don’t have to stay with me if you don’t want to. I just… I though it would be nice to spend time with you…” Sam says, all his confidence flying away.

Dean bits his bottom lips, hating to see Sam so sad, so defeatist.

“No, Sammy, I love being with you, you know that”

“Really?” Sam eyes are shinning with hope and his dimples are showing

“Yeah, of course I do! You’re my best friend”

Sam smiles even more, and Dean wants to reach out and kiss the hell out of him.

“You’re my best friend too, Dean” He says, his fingers brushing against Dean on the table. Dean swallows hard, trying to be as motionless as possible.

“Hey, could you go and order me a whiskey?”

“A whiskey? Really?”

“Yep. And take whatever you want”

“Alright”

Sam gets up and walks to the counter, and Dean lets out a breath he was holding for way too long. He keeps his eyes on the men that were looking at Sam, not wanting them to walk forward him. Sam is behind him, so he can’t see him, but a few minutes pass by and there’s still no sign of Sam coming back.

He turns around to see another man, probably in his thirties, pressed on the counter as he speaks to Sam.

Sam, who’s looking at the man with his most beautiful smile, blinking is pretty little eyes and laughing his ass of. Dean breaths hard, trying to control himself and to shove the jealousy as far as he can. The man isn’t even hot, what Sam finds him anyway? He’s about to stop watching when he sees San leaning against the counter, his ass even more on display and – It’s that a panty?

He’s up before he can ever think about it, walking forward Sam as fast as he can.

“Hey Dean” Sam says innocently

“We’re out” Dean replies, taking Sam by the arm

“Dude” The man says, apparently pissed that Dean is taking his prey away

“If I was you I would shut the fuck up before someone calls the police and told them that you were flirting with a 15 years boy”

“Dean!” Sam yells, his face full of anger

“Let’s go”

They get out as fast as possible, Dean not carrying even a little that Sam is pissed at him. He lets go of him when the door closed itself, his jaw clenches and his fist tights.

He takes his jacket off before throwing it on Sam.

“You put that on you, right now!”

“I don’t want too!”

“I said now!”

Sam looks at him with so much anger that Dean is surprise it doesn’t kill him right away, but he obliges and puts the jacket on.

This was an attempt to make Sam look a little less attractive, but all it does is making him even more glorious. Seeing Sam in his too big jacket, his eyes full of anger and his jaw clenched, Dean can’t take it anymore.

He pushes Sam against the wall and stops when his face is right in front of him, his arms around his waist.

They don’t move, simply stay here, their bodies pressed against each other and their faces close enough for them to touch, to kiss.

“Why are you doing that?” Dean asks, his forehead against Sam “Why, Sammy?”

“You told me too” Sam voice is so little, so childish, and for the first time in a long time, Dean is able to see his true little brother again

“What?” Dean frowns

“You… You said…” Sam sights “I’m sorry Dean, I thought… I thought wrong”

Dean mind immediately get back to a few months ago, the same night Sam confessed being in love with someone. He remembers how jealous he was, how painful it was, and he’s answer, too.

“Yeah? Well, he’s a fool Sammy, there’s no a single man that would say no to you. You should make him jealous, show him what he’s missing, it always works”

There’s a tear running on Sam’s face and he tries to push Dean away but he’s too weak, or maybe not motivated enough.

“You… You did that for me?” Dean asks, realization hitting him

Sam nods ashamedly, not even looking at Dean anymore.

“All of this? The… The way you dress, how you act, the flirting and all? That was for me?”

“Yes” Sam whispers, sobbing strongly “I’m sorry Dean, I know I’m fucked up, I – “

He doesn’t get to finish his sentence because Dean presses his lips against his, finally able to touch this mouth he dreams off for the last months. Sam’s lips are as soft as he imagined they would be, maybe even more. Sam doesn’t move at first, but then he opens his mouth, letting Dean tongue slides inside of it.

“Shit” Dean says, panting

“Dean…” Sam whispers, trying to catch Dean mouth again  

“I got you, babe”

They kiss again, and again, before running to the car and back to the motel.

“And you, are you in love?” Sam asked

Dean looked at his 14 years old little brother, the only thing that ever matter in his whole life, before pushing Sam’s hair out of his face.

“Yeah, I think I am. But… It’s not reciprocal”

“Oh” Sam said, unable to hide his disappointment “Winchester luck huh?”

“Yeah” Dean laughed “Something like that I guess”

Sam moved until his head was resting on Dean’s shoulder

“Doesn’t matter. She wouldn’t have been able to love you as much as I do”

“Yeah? Well, same for your man, Sammy” Dean whispered, hugging Sam closer

“Just the two of us against the world”

“Always, Dean”

#Wincestwritingchallenge #wxncesters #wincest #weecest #sam x dean #Mine #First kiss #Jealous!Dean #Tease!Sam

[2dtacokit-blog]

oh jeez. Coming Back and I guess, Coming Out?

Well it has been over a few years I think since I was last on here and boy has things changed, myself included. I wasn’t planning on coming back on here as it was a horrendous triggering mess, couldn’t stand the bitchiness and toddlers... But my best buddy dragged my sorry ass back. My blog was an unmitigated disaster, I cringed for the longest time and was furious with myself. Mass deleting spree. It’s a long old read, maybe the longest post in the entire universe, but I cannot put this concisely. If you make it to the end, I thank you for witnessing this.

TW for CSA, SA, R, Su, Si. Just tread carefully. Crude, explicit and uncensored. 

If you know me in real life, please please do not reveal this information.

Some things are the same, still parenting, still confused, still in therapy, still fighting the same old demons but a lot has changed. I have grown up for a start, wizened up a bit, got some of my shit together and I am now single. I gave two fingers up to the NHS mental health service after the complete closure of therapeutic services in my area and sought private medical care. I am in private analytic psychotherapy weekly, getting to know myselves. I have now been formally/clinically diagnosed with Dissociative Identity Disorder, which has been a tough nut to get my teeth around. An old me, unsure who, used to write about it on here with complete assurance that it was the case and I didn’t recognise that attitude when I came back on. I will now be a lot more cautious with what I write with relation to my mental health because it puts me at great risk. I do not want the whole perimeter for my existence to be based on my mental health anymore... Even though it still governs my existence.

So yes, we are a “system” working towards consolidation of trauma and experiences in therapy and with private specialists, but we are primarily Aly. 

Another biggie to cover, and this will be the first place other than the survivors forum I will post this on, is that I am having serious issues with gender dysphoria. Now this is gonna sound very strange, for most that have known me I have seemed someone who sexualized their female body continually, putting it on display and clinging to it. Well... It came as a shock to me as to anyone I haven’t already come out to (literally 5 people I know in real life?). I will do what I can to explain and make sense of what is an ongoing discovery with my therapist.

Trauma fucks with people in many ways. Sexual and psychological trauma is an insidious beast that disguises themselves in many forms. Now as I have already covered, I have DID. A condition caused by having to adapt to survive severe and repeated complex trauma in childhood. I still have not much of an idea what that is but other me’s do. That is neither here or there for now, that is my business, but what it does is erase chunks of my memory of things I have been unable to process/deal with. 

As a kid, I was abnormal to say the least. A large chunk of that was due to trauma, switching continually and just casually failing my way through anything other than academics. One thing I didn’t understand was how the heck I couldn’t connect to the girls around me. I didn’t understand them, couldn’t get my head around how they worked or how they looked. I was tall, scrawny, long haired boyish thing that was torn between doing what they loved (getting muddy, trashing shit, buying the most ridiculous jeans you can imagine, pummelling people in rugby, pummelling people in the playground ((not proud of it)), studying, hanging out with boys, being silly) and who I felt I should be (cute, girly, into pink, dancers, sweet, gentle). 

That conflict tore my little primary school brain apart. What used to happen at home is a mystery but school was agony. I would go in a dishevelled mess and was a freak, as all and sundry used to make clear. Girls didn’t want me as their friend because I wasn’t like them, and my attempts to emulate them came across desperate, copycat, attention seeking behaviour. But dammit I still tried. Tried the pink, tried the cute stuff, but they were my sisters stuff... Not for me. I loved them but they didn’t look right on me, made me feel worse. My younger sister was an alien to me; a proper real life girl and that highlighted my freakishness. I was being rejected by everyone. Experiencing massive emotional and physical neglect at home, bullied at school, turned away by counsellors and tutors, ofc rejected by the boys and girls I fancied. 

ENTER FROM THE LEFT MY MAGICALLY SHIT DISSOCIATIVE POWERS.

I had a few angry boy personalities about by this time, I didn’t know they were boys until like September last year. I had a mass emergence of parts, all male, that stored these memories like time capsules. Memories I had forgotten due to my dissociative amnesia. Anyway, similarly to how these parts formed and were there early, so came a female personality. One that could preform girl where the rest of us couldn’t. Not very well at this stage, she was a young girl, but she dutifully tried to copy the girls we grew up around. Camouflaging what I guess was early stage dysphoria from myself and those around me. This part felt terror at appearing anything like a boy, because looking like a boy when we should be a girl would get us bullied and rejected again. And we were alone enough. 

Around this time, I think between 9-11, I was visibly changing a lot in photos. Sometimes I would be incredibly tomboyish, othertimes... painfully... a mismatched attempt at what we felt a girl should be. Combine that with the elusive sexual abuse we aren’t clear of yet, we prioritised being sexually attractive over all else. Boys liked girls that had tits. Boys liked girls that liked their tits. My family liked girls that were girls, and tits were a thing girls had, make up were what girls wore. Girls liked girls that looked like girls, and were jealous of girls who looked sexy. Well that is who we will be, couldn’t be cute, so let’s be sexy instead. I wore miniskirts that were obscene, tank tops saying “sexy kitty” on it, and stuffed my croptop to make sure my tiny prepubescent body looked that little bit more adult. That didn’t go how we wanted it to. We looked more like a freak than ever because parts were still clinging desperately to their boyhood, and we looked like a clusterfuck to be honest. A sad one though. Desperately sad and my heart breaks to look back at that confused person in the photos.To be clear though, we were not at this point attaching any of this to gender, boyhood wasn't at this point me saying “LOOK I AM A BOY” but kinda what we really were without connecting the word boy to it. I wasn’t afforded an opinion of my own at this age, raised in the church, within a violent and abusive household in literally one of the whitest, hetero-normative, conservative towns in the UK erases ones ability to discover themselves.

In a final act of madness to solidify that i was a normal girl we went to an all girls school. 

Mistake.

Before we even got to that dam school we watched The Matrix. For the first time we saw someone that looked like a girl but also looked like a boy. We were mystified. We bypassed Trinity, she was a she and we didn’t connect at all, but the blonde one (who died very early on) has short boyish spiky hair. So we took our smol ass to the hairdressers and insisted we got our past shoulder length hair cut completely off. That did not go the way we planned. We looked older, looked somehow more like a freak girl/boy thing, and it was horrifying. We also looked like our mum, which was another problem related to the abuse stuff. We cried for ages because we felt like a freak, didn’t understand why we did it, couldn’t change it and we were about to start at the new, All Girls Grammar school. Shit. 

The first two years at that school was hell. My mum finally kicked my dad out, but we were still having to see him weekly. I was at this point dissociating all the time. I would have three loads of school stuff with me all the time, for reasons i couldn’t understand. I didn’t understand why the other girls had one pencil case when I had 3, had to have 3! How in the heck did these girls carry their stuff not in a bag or a giant tray like I had to?! Well I was catering to the parts that were present without knowing it. Either way I was bait man, freaking bait.

Skinny, tall, covered head to toe in excoriation marks, short tufty hair, looked like a boy, but so desperate to fit in I wore my dam mums make up. I got lost all the time, was crying all the time or having fits where i would smash stuff, steal things, yell for no reason or be very sexually overt. I was torn apart. A website was set up by my old so called friends called The Aly Fan Club, where they took photos of me around school, uploaded them to the net and commented on them, with people (usually men) commenting what they wanted to do to me. I took all this in silence because when i got home, my amnesia would wipe that shit clean from my brain for ages. From one hell to another. 

Coming out as what I thought was gay at this time was another huge problem, like any emo nerd I drew all this trash and put it on dA. In no time at all, most of the school knew I liked girls and there was now something NEW to bully me for. I tried to see this as punishment for my bullying behaviour in primary school to justify it but there was no justification. So much at this point was about punishment.

Punishment for being a freak, for being a loser, for not being like anyone else in this entire dam school. Punishment for looking so gross, for wanting these awful, naughty things, for liking the wrong people, for drawing how i felt... I needed to be punished. So I let it continue. I was an awful person and i needed to be punished.

But here is a thing. Breasts. When mine came in they came in suddenly. It felt like all my prayers had been answered and my ticket to being a girl like all these other girls had been called. I was One Of Them. I hated my body so much because of the hatred I got from others and my own discomfort that when these babies came in I adored them. Not what I anticipate anyone expects to here from someone suspecting they are a trans guy? “if you were truly dysphoric you would have hated them, that would have made it worse!” well for most cases probably. What these fatty parts gave me was attention, which i had been starved from in almost all aspects of my life, family included. What’s more, this attention was positive. I had never experienced such a thing for my body before that wasn’t... locked in another trauma pocket. 

For someone who was ready to kill themselves at age 12 because they were such an unforgivable, wretched, disgusting, freak, that wasn't even a girl, that couldn't stop biting themselves till they bled... The power my newly sexualised and definitely female body gave me was sorely needed. People fancied me now. They wanted to touch me rather than just hit me, or throw things at me. They wanted to pull me not swear at me or spit at me. Survival Aly adapts, it is what we do, so we adapted. But things were still not right. Self harm was a massive problem, so were suicide attempts because we were still... not quite there yet. We ventured online a lot, where older men from across the world would ask for photos, videos and meets. I had no idea this was sexual grooming, but we were also dependant on that to survive. Somehow though, the impact of that, some bullying that was still happening, my everpresent self hatred, confusion and discomfort and increase in abuse in the home led us to attempt suicide in the school toilet when i was 14.

We tried to cut our neck open this time.

A teacher found us and dragged us to student services. My mum as usual was angry as heck and embarrassed. Apologising for my behaviour and the inconvenience. My dad was cloying like molasses creeping into my head. I remember because i bled all over the blouse of Ms Ginsberg, a tutor i fancied since forever. It wasn’t that severe, it was considered a superficial wound, but the amount we were doing and the continual attempts were serious cause for concern. Then my step mom found photos of me being sexually active at 14 and before, my mom found a load of the video files for the other men and I was hospitalised. Something miraculous occurred during this time though, another part came out. One that was confident and proudly female, one that was overtly sexualised but more cunning. She was a chav, an incredible cheemo (idk if anyone remembers this fashion disaster movement thing). She could adapt and fit in to any social situation and essentially helped us waltz out of hospital with no memory of being there for years. 

All memory of confused tomboy/greyspace/whatever the fuck i was me was gone. This me didn’t give a dam and was in it for themselves and to survive, to be adored. And sex was their weapon, they just had to be cunning about it. By this point I was 15 and didn’t really think more about what I was. We were screwing guys now, guys and girls, thought this was something to be proud of. Dismissed the old small group of friends i had for the guys that hung around at the park and girls that used to go out and get drunk. We took naked photos of ourselves and put them online, and paraded ourselves around scantily clad because it made us feel powerful and loved. 

At 16 i was raped. I was again at 17 twice, and this pattern continued beyond being hospitalised for the second time at 20 (the worst 21st birthday ever), beyond getting pregnant which was also conceived through rape. I had been sexually abused and raped a lot during this time, but my dissociative amnesia would wipe the memory. So I would know something bad was happening but was denied processing it by my inbuilt survival mechanisms that kept me alive as a kid. I was unable to get out of the loop or register any danger because the switching would be so automatic, so ingrained, it basically was not up to me to get us out of the situation because another part was there in brace position having dissociated fully. All during this time I preformed female because it was necessary. I didn't have room to question my gender because i was too busy surviving and trying to literally not die. 

Then the pregnancy. I cant relive any of this trauma stuff too much, that isn't the point of this post but during this time, my gender was more apparent than ever before. Drawings we used to do of parts that had male appendages but still looked female started to change. Become more male. The internal distress was so monumental for many reasons; rape pregnancy, the gen father not leaving us alone, fear of my dad, still loosing my mind, desperately trying to be loved my my partner at the time. But there was another distress there. 

I cant be a mum. Women become mums. I cant hold this child in me. This shouldn't be there. 

Everyone was hammering home how much of a glowing woman I was and each time they said it I wanted to die. I tortured my body, got others to torture it too. Despised it, loathed it. It wasn't right to any of my parts. Three parts got us through that pregnancy but we dont know who gave birth. I dont remember it. We destroyed almost every pregnant photo of us. What were we disgusted by aside from the feeling of being broken, used and bred? How undeniably, unquestionably female we were. 

Even so things were happening inside my head and body that made us feel insane. We started feeling like we had a penis, like felt like we could touch it, could feel stimulated by holding an appendage there (tmi i know). We tried in secret without thinking about it, moving our breasts up, down, flat, out of the way (fairly impossible by this point i was a lactating G cup *vomits*). We had glimmers of feeling male... which... felt good. First time we pegged we cried in the toilet with the door locked because it felt real, felt right though we couldn't explain it. So we were too scared to do it again, tried to force feminise ourselves again because that is WHO WE SHOULD BE. I mean look? I have a kid now, i am “mom”. Stopped drawing these mysterious genderconfused parts and forcefully only drew accurately what our body was. Which was agony.

Until September 2017. 

Ploughing through therapy, maturing, making milestones in recovery when we started to talk about childhood trauma, my dad, the first and only time i drew myself fully as a man for my friend, and BAM! Bam! is not overrated it was literally a Bam! moment, because the part emergence I mentioned earlier occurred. And with these male parts came the bloody nail bat of gender dysphoria hitting me in the head over and over till I self harmed for the first time in years. The male parts were terrified and disoriented at first, they had a lot of growing up and catching up to do, some more so than others. They remembered being 15, 13, 10. Remembered the first pegging experience, remembered... things we had no connection to. Now they are mostly my age, helping each other to mature and grow as needed due to being a parent. 

The first used to cry and scream in the mirror, punching walls because the body was wrong. Attacking our breasts like i had done subconsciously for years but this time, because they knew their breasts were wrong. They drew themselves over and over to solidify their gender identity when all else was screaming they were female. We pulled away from our partner, couldn't be touched, couldn't be interacted with because it would be a reminder of our gender. We flinched at being called a woman, a girl, female, and with that came memories of feeling like that as a kid. Fuck me, we were dysphoric as a kid. The first proper realisation.

Up until this point we had NO idea we had ever experienced gender dysphoria. But this is how DID works. It erases traumatic information and stores it in the parts that dealt with it. When the parts properly emerge, this information is leaked out over time. So great. Dysphoria.

Another part came out to implement what I am now starting to think is their cure for this, to ultimately feminise us. Because we needed to be female. Erase the dysphoria and with it that other male part. Nothing feminises me quicker than one of my most terrifying abusers. So guess what bellend got back in contact and re-traumatised the system, this one *points to self in dismay*. Long story short, shit went down, not un consensual shit as before but still shit. That part would routinely draw the male part being hurt by this guy over and over again till they freaked out. 

But wait! The hellscape is not over. From stage right we have another destructive part, hyper-masculine, angry and unempathetic. Grateful to him because his presence pulled us away from that guy (he viewed him as pathetic and beneath him), but now we are just... drinking. Getting wasted in the park, hitting things, smoking up at night again. My specialist had told me to get to know these parts as they are vital for my recovery so we drew what they needed us to draw and goddam these guys are hurt. These are protective parts. They took the shit we couldn’t. And this one, swearing at my partner, exploding all over the place, trying to run away, self harming, kicking the shit out of the wheely bin outside survives threat of physical violence. The one that went to my old abuser survives some of the more extreme sexual violence and torture and the first male part deals with psychological abuse. I can see it in their drawings, their confessions and in our therapy sessions. We have other parts but they dont want to be discussed.

All of these parts are heavily dysphoric because they are all male. Unquestionably so. Their rage at this body is because it isn’t the right one.  So where do I come into it, me being the primary/fronting part, or leader of the twisted UN committee that is my brain?  That has taken longer to figure out, and has been a more agonising journey. 

I am dysphoric too. 

I cannot erase now i have them, the memories of my childhood spent dysphoric. The memories of trying at any cost to be a girl. Which shouldn’t be hard considering genetically I am one. I have had to fight within myself my transphobia i didn't even know was present. We aren’t talking bigotry here, but the genuine terror that i could be transgender. When most of the make up of who I am, and my survival to this day has been formulated by trying to accepted, loved, normal (though i failed at that horribly), not rejected and safe from physical, sexual and psychological abuse... Coming to terms with the fact you are transgender is not a comfortable thought. Not one I welcomed, and one that terrified us. 

The fear of being transgender was so great it made us sick, sent us into crisis, started us self harming again. Trying everything we can to not be transgender because I have been through enough and survival brain is screaming as loud as it can that this will cause serious problems. But we couldn’t. Cant draw myself as a girl at all without wanting to cry or wretch. Cant wear girls clothes because i feel like i am crossdressing?! Cant wear bras, cant do feminine make up, cant do anything I used to do to be accepted anymore. Cant be a girlfriend anymore. 

We started without realising it trying to make ourselves masculine. We would zone out and be drawing on facial hair with eyebrow pencil, tried using vetwrap to bind my chest, do not do this, it bruised us for days. We bought a mans top and a guys jeans and we lived in them exclusively unless family was over. We started wearing boxers, packing (though going to the loo and watching a dam sock fall out your pants makes your dysphoria worse and left us feeling humiliated so stopped doing this). I started drawing me not my parts but me and that me was always always male unless we were trying to force ourselves to draw a female us. 

We reached out eventually to my best friend Ruth, and they encouraged us to get a binder. This provoked fear again. Self harm, self medicating, the usual destructive bs. But now the distress levels were triggering depersonalisation and derealisation; both symptoms of DID survival patterns. We stopped being able to recognise ourselves in mirrors because the damn amnesia was wiping it in an instant. My hands would feel male then flick to female, my body was glitching continually and I tried to get out of buying a binder by talking about my “genuine transgender friends” saying how I couldn't be trans because of their experience, that I am so obviously taking the piss, that I cannot be trans this must all be trauma. But Ruth stuck with me, as did a few other people, and still pushed for me to get a binder just to see how it felt. 

I did and when it arrived and i tried it on the reaction was... well... overwhelming. Much like looking in the mirror seeing what is a very female face with a drawn on beard, i was looking at a body i hated being crammed into something that kinda hurt to put on, and making me look like i had a deformed ribcage. I cried. I dont know what i expected in that moment. Maybe that all the dysphoria will go away and it would be fixed and that would be that. All okay. But no. I felt sad that I was punishing my body for not being right, angry at myself for not being able to just be a dam woman. I MADE A BABY WITH MY BODY THIS SHIT SHOULD BE EASY. 

Standing in a mirror, with a binder on, boxers on and socks stuffed in them trying my best to look like a man, I felt like a freak. 

But then i put a shirt on. And holy heck i could see my feet. I was small, the first time i have ever looked at myself and seen a small body rather than something deformed that i see when i see my breasts. I looked smart, I looked beautiful in that shirt. The tears were still rolling down my dam cheeks, and i was a snotty wreck but I for the first time in 4-5 years I also didn't feel rage at being fat. Because I wasn't fat, not in the slightest. Standing there in shirt and boxers with flat chest, masc make up on, i looked like a guy... just about. And i smiled. I smiled so much. 

I urgently facetimed Ruth and was like “come see how good I look” something I hadn’t genuinely felt in a very long time unless a man thought I was sexy. But here, in my tip of a room, almost dancing on cam for my best friend, showing her how i could bend over and no udders were just dangling there, how i could type and see my hands move... I looked at myself and felt good. I didn't care if anyone else thought i looked good because I felt on top of the world 

This was my first introduction to gender euphoria, that wasn’t related to some obscure masturbatory habits and pegging. That feeling made things liveable for a while. I wanted to chase that feeling because it felt incredible. I was working out before but now I did it to not get thin, to not starve myself but to love myself. I started taking weight training seriously, and whilst the gym was a trigger for my dysphoria (room full of massive dudes who all see you and talk to you as a girl in your skimpy ass gym kit will do that to you) I pushed on. My shoulders are getting broader now, muscle definition starting and i love each of these changes. I eat more than I ever have done but I eat healthily because this male me, this real me that i seem to love I want to treasure, look after and care for. 

I am not gonna wear baggy clothes and cut my hair off to look like a passable cis guy because that feels like punishment, and I have done that enough in my life and been punished by people in ways that have left me unable to walk and bleeding. I want to see my body when i work out because i love seeing the muscle definition, I wince at my breasts but try to imagine it being different. I love my long floppy hair, and I am not gonna change that because men with long hair are stunning. People talk about “the cut”, and I get the feeling of shame that i must be making this all up because i dont want to cut my hair off, but I am not a boy, I am almost 25. I have lived through some shit, I am not a boy. I am... a man. And I like how my hair feels like a lions mane. I associate cutting my hair off with my own lack of control and desperation so i dont want to return to that ever. 

My therapist has been exceptional. He wants me to embrace this because he has seen massive improvement. Yes I am in and out of crisis a lot, there is a lot on my plate and dysphoria is a c*nt when you are already struggling, but here is the dam thing.

For the first time in my miserable fucking life I don’t want to be hurt or punished. I don’t want to be beaten, spat on, assaulted or killed. I don’t want to starve, I don’t want to be anywhere near any of my old abusers or rapists. I don’t want to submit to be liked. I don’t want to preform as a character to be accepted. I don’t want to be dependant on anyone to survive. I don’t want to sexualise myself to be loved. 

The dysphoria will challenge this, oh man it does. My depersonalisation and fear of being trans challenges this. 

Little voices going “you are not really a man. you have tits. you have a baby. you are a mom. you are doing this for attention, all this because you have to be somehow sicker than you already are. It is just trauma. You are making all of this up. You are trying to just not be the snivelling wretch that they made you into. You make a mockery of a very real cause. You are not trying hard enough, a real trans guy would cut their hair. You like your appearance sometimes which means you must not be trans. You are not a man, you are just like literally any of those cases of confused survivors of abuse that you see all over the internet, that is you. You just cant admit it because you are scum. It’s the same as everything, none of this is real, none of this is true. You are nothing like a man. You are a nothing, A NOTHING”.

Those are the voices that send me into crisis. That have me self harming, suicidal, terrified, self hating. Not when I pass as a guy, not when I draw myself as a guy or just... am a guy. The doubt and pull back to my assigned gender is what is killing me. Well alongside the actual traumas and parenting a toddler, alone, with over £2000 in debt. I never want to lie, but unpicking the truth when you are multiple people and have amnesic survival programming to prevent you from uncovering traumatic realities is very hard.

What is amazing though.... which I will cling to when my binder is crushing, when Instagram is full of BS about what is True Transgenderism, when FB is full of trans hate and I am still annoyingly in the closet with my family and most of the universe is this... When my BFF Maddy calls me an amazing, perfect boy, I blush and well up with tears and feel seen. I felt visible. When she sends me gifs of someone snuggling the death out of a tired proud lion, ruffling his mane, I feel seen again I cry with happy relief feels. When she or my friend Ruth says i look handsome, or masculine and I am blushing again forever, that is precious. When I look in the mirror after working out and see my shoulders broader and chest almost flat from the binder, hair swept back, I look strong, i look male, i look right. well almost. When i complete a drawing of how i wish i looked and i get it correct, i feel ready to punch the goddamn sun in its stupid face like LOOK! I EXIST! When I dream of being a guy and being touched by another person as if i am a guy, i feel like i am gonna take off from this planet and leave it in my dust... because not only do they see me, but they accept me and love me for who I am, who I want to be rather than who they want me to be or who i need to be... It makes me put that blade down and walk away. Make a hot chocolate or draw something.

So... I guess this is it. I am a guy. 

A closeted guy for my safety for now. But a guy.

A guy with a shit tonne of trauma. But a guy.

A guy with DID, and female personalities. But I am a guy.

A guy who has a 2 year waiting list before he can talk to a gender clinic about this but still. I am a guy. 

A guy that yes, despite all my best efforts, looks androgynous at best, and uses feminine appearance for protection because they are still too scared to present fully as male. But still a guy.

If this changes in future, well then... whilst living without dysphoria would be just the best... I dont want to loose who I am now i have finally caught a glimpse of them for the first time. It has made me a better person, a better parent, a better friend... Why would I ever give that up? It is gonna be a long old road, it may all change, I may change again, I may legitimately forget all about this. I may be too scared to ever come out to my family. The doubt, fear and dysphoria may actually win the next time I am in crisis. I may just delete this post out of shame but fuck it.

My name is Aly and I am a fucking guy. 

#return #did #dissociativeidentitydisorder #d.i.d #dissociation #trauma #coming out #like wtf #realisation #tw #confession #long post

[matsbarzal]

Just a Hookup - William Nylander

Note: whatta creative title for my actual dad that i love so much. no but seriously, i kind of like this one and kind of don’t but i hope you guys enjoy!!

Smut: Yes | No

Warnings: smut yall

Request: Can you do a William nylander smut?? Love your writing btw💜 

It was the same thing every offseason, Willy would leave for Sweden after the Marlies or Leafs were pushed out of the playoffs, and you would be stuck back home in Toronto, unable to follow your best friend to his hometown. It wasn’t really expected of you though, as to everyone else, you were just friends, and nothing more.

William hid the true intentions of your relationship from everyone, not wanting to jeopardize your dating life because you weren’t an actual couple. Just a hookup, always just a hookup. There were times that you thought that maybe he wanted to change that, and put an actual label on what you guys were doing, but it was always just a hookup.

Regardless of that issue, he was still your best friend. Which is what had you standing in the airport, waiting for his floppy blonde hair to appear from the terminal, and when it finally did, you almost squealed in excitement as you ran towards him. You collided with him, the only thing keeping the two of you upright being the newfound strength that the Swede had gained over the summer.

“I’ve missed you!” You yelled into his ear, aggressively holding him in a hug, which he easily reciprocated.

“I’ve missed you too, you weirdo.”

William gently pried your hands off his body, grabbing his fallen suitcase and gesturing for you to direct them to your car. This was always how it went, you would attack him in a loving embrace and he would then direct you to get out of the airport so he could show you the actual embrace he preferred.

After a few minutes of walking, you finally found your car in the maze that is Toronto Pearson airport, a huffing and annoyed William trailing behind you.

“You pick me up every year, and you lose your car… every fucking year.”

You rolled your eyes, ignoring his grumbling as he shoved his luggage into your backseat and your trunk, trying to fit as much of his stuff in the back so it didn’t have to come up to the front with the two of you. He, thankfully, was able to shove it all in the back before moving to the passenger seat.

“Thanks for the help, (Y/N).”

“Anytime, Will.”

The Swede pouted at you, before grabbing the aux chord from your hands and plugging it into your phone. “Sorry, we’re not listening to Lana Del Rey the entire ride to my apartment. Not in that mood for that shitty shit today.”  

Ignoring his jab at your choice of music, you began the drive to his apartment, ignoring the occasional glance that he sent your way during the ride.

You weren’t oblivious, you knew what he wanted from the subtle touches to your hip and the ‘accidental’ brush up against your ass, but you weren’t playing into his games anymore. You couldn’t feel the way you felt every time he brought someone else to his apartment, or the way he talked about the girl’s home in Sweden, you weren’t allowed to be jealous of it, but you were, and you were done with it. And sadly, that took progress, which started with denying him what he wanted.

“(Y/N)… help me unpack… pleaseeeee.” Raising your eyebrow at the fully grown man in front of you, who was currently dropping everything in his hands on the floor to practically beg you to help him; you just simply shook your head and laughed.

“You never help me, Willy. Sucks to suck, buddy.”

The man in question continued to grumble under his breath at your words, moaning and complaining the entire time. You ignored it, once again, clicking your phone on so you could scroll through Instagram.

Liking a few pictures, you stopped when you noticed a comment on Willy’s newest post.

Alexnylander good luck with you know who in Toronto!! ;)))

Truthfully, you didn’t want to know who he was talking about, because it sure as hell wasn’t you. Skipping past the picture, you liked a few more before William’s grumbling became too annoying.

“Jesus, Will, can we do something else so you’ll shut up for 10 minutes?”

He eagerly accepted, proclaiming that you were going to watch ‘a movie’ with him, and you didn’t get to choose which movie because you were being ‘too mean to him’. His comments just made you laugh, ignoring the look of mock hurt that crawled across his face.

After a few seconds of shuffling through his movie cabinet, like usual, the blue of the Notebook’s cover page appeared just as a groan sounded from your throat. “Again?”

“Again!”

Every single time you watched a movie together and he got to choose, it was always The Notebook, literally… always.

After setting the movie up and turning the lights off, the Swede climbed into bed beside you, immediately cuddling up to your body and claiming it was too cold in the room to not cuddle. “You love it anyways, (Y/N), so shush and watch the movie.”

You obliged, facing towards the screen and focusing on the beginning of the movie. Your focus was interrupted a few minutes in when you felt his hand gently rubbing up and down your clothed thigh, an obvious indication of what he wanted. You tried to ignore it, but he just became more persistent and used the leverage of moving up higher closer towards where you knew moisture was growing.

You shifted up a bit, so that his hand was closer towards your knee, while subtly trying to move your leg away from him. Unfortunately, his hand followed wherever your thigh went.

“(Y/N)…”

You turned to face him, just as the feeling of his soft lips on yours reached your brain. It took you a second to realize what was going on, and when you did, you knew you were fucked. You couldn’t stop, the feeling he gave you was like a drug, it was addictive and unhealthy, but you loved it… so much.

Eagerly pressing your lips against his, the Swede pushed himself on top of you, holding himself up with his elbows. He left your lips to begin peppering kisses down your neck, stopping when your shirt got in the way to lift it gently off your body, coaxing you to lift your arms so he could. You allowed him to remove it, your own reasoning trying to persuade your impulses to stop, but you couldn’t.

He didn’t bother to remove the bra, just pushed the cup aside before his lips attached themselves to one of your rosy buds. The blonde eagerly sucked on it, occasionally scraping it with his teeth before moving to the other one, small groans leaving your lips at every one of his ministrations. You could feel him rutting against the bed at your sounds, which you knew he loved.

After a few more minutes of that, he continued to pepper kisses down your body before reaching your pants, looking up at you to make sure you were okay with it. Once again, your impulses took over and you nodded down.

Within seconds, both your pants and panties were off, as he looked upon your wet core hungrily. “Fuck, you’re so beautiful when you’re turned on, (Y/N). It’s so fucking hot.”

That was new. Sex between the two of you was always a quiet affair, no dirty talk, just moans and groans and slaps. You both, originally, didn’t want it to get too intimate, which made his comments even weirder.

Choosing to just moan at his words, he eagerly pressed his mouth to your dripping core, eliciting a loud moan from your lips. You could feel the smug grin that took over his face at your sounds, which had you closing your thighs tightly around his head, to implicate that you weren’t interested in him being a smug bastard tonight.

He obviously got the hint, his tongue spreading out to lick a line from your entrance all the way to the bundle of nerves at the top of your core. William repeatedly did that, each time releasing a loud moan from your lips, and a shake from your lower body. He continued that until you were gripping his hair, tugging on it hard enough that he moved his head to look up at you.

“Fuck me, please.”

William shook his head almost immediately, “No, tonight’s about you, not me.”

You were baffled by his words, but you couldn’t think of it as his lips went back to your clit, licking and sucking you to an orgasm that had your eyes rolling back and your hips bucking into his mouth. You opened your eyes to look at him, just to see how intensely he was looking at you.

A few seconds of a staring contest resulted in him repressing his lips to yours. He pulled away to look at you again, “I fucking love when you cum in my mouth and make those sounds, you look so fucking gorgeous.”

Your train of thought refocused on his words, once again baffling you as to why he was saying these kinds of things, especially when he never did. “Willy…”

“No, let me finish. I fucking love making you cum, and making you moan my name when I fuck you, or how you gag when you give me head. I know this isn’t the time, but I want that all the time, not just occasionally, but like… all the time. I want morning sex, and after practice sex, and victory sex, and I wanna be able to not worry that you’re gonna say no because you have a boyfriend, or that you’re fucking someone else. But I also wanna see you in my jerseys all the time, or my shirts, I wanna see you cooking in my kitchen, I literally want everything.” All the words rushed from his mouth, with each word leaving, a tinge of red followed on his cheeks. When he was done, his face was as red as a tomato, and he was looking at you awkwardly.

“Do you get every girl naked and then say this?”

“Fuck you and tell me if you want it too.” The Swede practically growled at you, his own nerves showing in his aggression.

“Well like… yeah, but I don’t have a jersey for you to wear of mine right now, sorry buddy.”

All the blonde did was laugh, pushing forward to once again press his lips against yours. Pulling away, you looked at him, “So like, can I put my pants on now or?”

#william nylander #william nylander imagines #nhl imagines #william nylander imagine #toronto maple leafs #requested #mine #smut

[commentaryonhowwelive]

December, 2011. Age 19. (Fear of the Unknown)

Phase 1  

I hadn’t spent any time with her all this semester. Not because I wasn’t available. In fact, I was home from college every weekend because I passionately hated living in Orlando. I hated being in my college apartment. I hated the lack of privacy, the compression on my mind. I think I just hate apartments in general. Maybe I’m just spoiled having grown up in a house by the beach.

Anyways, she was away at college up north and even though we had crushes on each other in high school (at least I thought we did) we didn’t talk much while she was gone. 

  I shot her a text.

“Hello Sallie, would you like to grace me with your presence?” I waited. She responded.

“Paul! How are you?! Yes. Want to longboard?”

I was at her house 10 minutes later. 10 minutes after that, we were cruising down Riverside Drive on our longboards talking about the past semester. 

“I’ve hated it. I have to confess, I come back a lot to surf.”

“How can you hate Orlando so much? There’s so much to do there.”

I did a little move on my board to show off then replied, “Everything there costs money. I just want to surf and play drums and hang out beachside. I feel so trapped in Orlando. Everything’s fake. I can’t even skate without being scared of being hit by a car, there’s so much traffic,” I spoke as I took up the entirety of the empty beach side road.

“I’m just happy to get away from this town. I loved growing up here, don’t get me wrong, but it’s time to like..you know..I guess…move on?”

I opened my mouth to respond but felt guilty for confessing that I wasn’t ready to leave yet since it seemed like her ship has already sailed. I closed my mouth and pushed against the ground. She continued, “I like being here now though. It’s like a breath of fresh air.”

I rode her compliment on our hometown, “Exactly! That’s how I feel every time I come home from Orlando. The second I cross the causeway it’s just like ‘ahhhh’”.

Truth is, I didn’t come back just a lot. I came home every weekend, and sometimes during the week too for a day or so. If I didn’t, I felt like I’d go insane. I was terrified of living alone. I felt incompetent all the time, unable to justify any of my day to day actions. My family lived an hour away, but it might as well had been across the world. When I’m in Orlando, all I could think about is going home. The crowds, the flagrant uncaring attitude of so many students here, the facade in front of every interaction or sight. If you want to go to the pet store, you can’t go to the little mom & pop pet shop down the street, you have to go to TONY’S ANIMATORIUM EMPORIUM. Where’s the realness? Where’s the people just making it work without having to put on a name tag and a face every day? I’d see an old man riding his bike in Orlando and think DUI. I’d see an old man riding his bike beachside and I think happy and retired.

“Well, I have to bring things to goodwill and I want to get a Christmas tree. Want to join me for beachside adventures?” She asked turning back down her street.

“You bet your sweet booty I do.”

I was smooth with the ladies. Or at least I like to think I would be. I’ve never even kissed a girl. Maybe it’s the anxiety, but I imagine it’s more because I’m just looking for a relationship that means something before I make that connection with someone. Hook up culture drives me up a wall. Just like Orlando does. I hate it, it’s dirty. I want a girl that I care about, who cares about me.

We kept joking that we were like a newly wed couple and I secretly loved it. I loved the idea of getting a Christmas tree with a girl for our cute little Florida home. Stuffing it into our old beat up car, making it work. I hadn’t ever had a girlfriend so it was such a great feeling being out and about doing something like this. I felt like she was just so great, until our conversation on the way home with the Christmas tree top sticking out of the back window.

“Oh my gosh and we were at this party getting drunk and John brought some weed, so we went around the back and smoked it.”

I got a tingling sensation down my spine and wasn’t sure what to say. “Oh, you smoke now?”, was all I could think to say.

“I mean, not really. It’s not like I’m always like ‘hey all, let’s all go get high!’, but if someone has weed, I’ll smoke it. I mean, why not? Anyways, I just remember being in his neighbor’s yard afterwards and for some reason the lamp post with the wreath on it was so funny, we just could not stop laughing…” she trailed off into her story about being high at a party but I had lost any and all interest in the remainder of the story. She smoked pot and that was that. There was no going back. It was such a let down, I thought maybe we’d spark something when she texted me back a few hours ago, but at this point, I didn’t even care any more.

When she finished her story the car was silent for a minute until I got a text from Tyler. 

“Whattup dude I just got off work, let’s rage”

“Hey Tyler just texted me, want him to come over too?” I asked hoping she’d say no, even though I wasn’t interested in her anymore now that I know she smokes weed.

“That sounds great! I haven’t seen him in forever. I think since Founders day in May? Wow it’s been too long. Yeah invite him over!”

“If by rage you mean coming over to Sallie’s house and maybe walking to the park or something, yes, let’s rage.” I responded. 

---------

I was trying to brush off the fact that she started smoking and drinking, but it was so hard. I just couldn’t understand what any of that even leads to, how it can be any more ‘fun’ than anything else? I had so much fun surfing, and what do I get when it’s over? An excellent natural connection to the world, a great work out, and a clear head. What do you get when you’re done drinking and smoking weed? A hangover, less money, and the very real possibility of having made poor choices while you were under the influence. They call it dope for a reason. I want connections to be real, not hidden behind an inhibited prefrontal cortex thanks to alcohol. I wanted life to be real, genuine, authentic.

We set up the Christmas tree and jokingly took a picture of us holding hands in front of it. I got another tingling feeling when we held hands, similar to when she told me that she had smoked weed, but this one was a good tingling feeling. She didn’t have a lot of ornaments, so we put up what we had, then wrapped it with red streamer that we found in her mom’s room. As we were looking at the pictures on her phone, Tyler let himself in through the front door. 

We sat on the couch for a few minutes while Tyler and Sallie caught up. We had all gone to a small high school together so she knew him well. He talked about how he hates community college, how he hates his job, and how he hates his parents who are cops. She talked about how she loves north Florida, loves her program, and loves weed now. I guess that was how she figured she could create a good middle ground between the two of them, talking about her love for weed right in front of me after I insinuated my disdain for it in the car without actually saying it out loud. Such is life.

After about a half hour and a few moments of silence that were slightly longer than comfortable, Tyler started complaining, “Dude I’m bored. Let’s go do something.”

“Oh my gosh, one time my friends and I were super high…” Sallie started, and I began to think that she smoked quite a bit more than she previously said, “…my friends and I went to the graveyard across the street from campus with an EVP reader we got from the lab and went ghost hunting. You guys want to go to the graveyard?”

Tyler jumped at the opportunity to wreak havoc in a public space at night. “Let’s do it!”, he bolted out the door without his keys.

“I guess I’m driving”, I said and walked out last.

“Tyler is talking right out of his ass right now”, I thought as he went on and on about how I never do anything fun and I just run and read like a “nerd”. I was trying to remember why I considered him my best friend as he started talking about all the crazy parties he goes to.

“Fireball is definitely my favorite. But that’s as far as I go into whiskeys. I much prefer just slamming an 18 pack of Miller with some bros,” Tyler bragged.

“Ugh, I had fireball one time at a party and I nearly gagged. I usually just mix rum with a LOT of coke so I don’t taste it,” She responded.

“If you don’t want to taste it, why do you even drink it?” I asked her.

Before she could answer, Tyler cut in “See, this is why I can’t talk about this kind of stuff openly with Paul, he just shoots me down all the time.”

“I don’t shoot you down all the time…wait, actually yeah I guess I do”, I fessed up. 

“I already have one dad,” he started going off, “and then I’ve got Paul over here trying to be a second asshole father figure when I can make my own damn choices. If I want to split an 18 pack with my buddy then go drive around some back roads and pull some donuts, that’s my own damn business. I ain’t hurtin’ anyone am I?”

“Well if you’re driving drunk, then yes, you absolutely can hurt someone”, I shot back in a pompous manner.

“There he goes again. Jesus dude, you need to lighten up and have a beer or five.”

Sallie laughed and I felt embarrassed. Here I was trying to have a nice night with Sallie, then I offer to invite Tyler and he just comes in and shits all over me in front of her. I was getting really upset with him. 

“Look man, I’m a camp counselor and I’m just trying to be a positive role model. I don’t see a reason not to be. Can we just drop it then?”

“Yes dad,” Tyler replied. I wasn’t amused.

We pulled into the graveyard but upon realizing how cold it was outside, especially for us Floridians, we decided to just drive around instead. I wanted to lighten up the situation a bit since it had gotten a bit tense driving over. 

Speaking to Tyler, I said “hey, I dare you to run across the graveyard alone,” once we reached the far end of the two acre lot.

“What’s in it for me?”

“I don’t know. It’ll be funny and you’ll be cool,” I said laughing, though he seemed to take the statement at face value.

“Sure means a lot coming from you,” he shot back, “stop the car.”

I kicked the gear into neutral and applied the brake. He jumped out before the car even stopped rolling and started running towards the gates, slamming the door behind him, probably shaking the coffins six feet below us. We watched his dark figure flying between the graves, launching himself off of the small ones. I shook my head and started driving back towards the front. 

“Sorry if I sound like a smug ass hole. It’s kind of hard to not sound like one with Tyler in this kind of mood.”

“Yeah, I don’t know…” Was all she had time to say before Tyler got back in.

I brought it up again in the car how I’m just trying to do the right thing, but I don’t mean to sound like a smug dick.

“Yeah, you are dude”, he said immediately, pouncing at the opportunity to cut me down. I didn’t know whether he was trying to impress Sallie that night, but I no longer wanted to be around anyone. I wanted to drop them off at Sallie’s house and go home. Just as I started to feel this way, he seemed to have a small tinge of guilt in his words.

“You know I just can’t help it, I’m a dick all the time too,” 

I’ll take it. 

He continued, “It’s like a perpetuating cycle. I’m a dick to people then they’re mean to me, then I have a reason to keep being a dick to them.” His little bit of self revelation didn’t really change my attitude about how I felt. I still wanted to go home. 

Then his tone changed. “But really, I’m 19 years old. In the eyes of the law, I am a fucking adult. If I want to finish an 18-pack by myself, punch a dude in the face, and nail a random girl from the bar, who the fuck cares?” 

I was cringing as he spoke, what he was saying didn’t even make chronological sense. How does one finish an 18-pack then go to a bar and pick up a girl when you’re only 19? He continued… “My parents think that just because they’re cops they can keep me on a leash goddamnit. They’re so annoying. I can’t wait to move out.

The rest of the car ride was filled with talk of the weather and classes we were all taking next semester. When we got back to the house, Tyler got out and went inside without saying a word, he walked by us as we approached the front door with his car keys and got into his car. He gave us a little salute and drove away.

“You outta here bro?” I asked, trying to deescalate the tension in their air before he left.

“Yeah. See ya.”

His music shook all the houses as he drove down the road and out of sight.

“What’s wrong with him?” Sallie asked uncomfortably as we walked inside and shut the door behind us. I could tell she wanted to be alone as much as I did after that little fiasco that I felt Tyler created out of thin air, so I just shrugged and said “No idea, I think I’m gonna head home though.”

I gave her a hug and went to walk out, but she stopped me at the door.

“Hey,”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t be a stranger. I’m here tomorrow morning before I leave to go back to school in the afternoon if you want to get together for coffee?”

“I have church,” I responded and walked out.

How was I supposed to respond? Do I just sit there and listen to him? I recognize him as my single best friend, but is a best friend supposed to just sit back and watch their best friend do all sorts of stupid shit and not say anything about it? Especially when he’s really only hurting himself. His grades could definitely be better, and I’d be hard pressed to believe that all his drinking is doing anything but hurting his school work. His parents are tight on him not because they’re cops, but because he can’t control himself. I said to him that night “be the change you want to see in the world” and he bombarded me with cynical remarks like “one person can’t change the fucking world”. I’ll say religious things to him and he just responds with things like “Jesus hasn’t helped me at all recently”. As fun as that kid is, I need better people in my life. I’m not learning ANYTHING from him besides how to not act. Jason, the pastor at the church I’ve been going to with my family, said that you need to surround yourself with people who are wiser than you or else you’ll never grow wiser yourself. I like to think that I’m the one that is wiser than Tyler and that I’m making a positive effect on his life even if he doesn’t acknowledge it. I try to show him the light of taking things easy, not getting so upset about things, and making better decisions, but he doesn’t seem to give a single care about wanting to learn any of that. Until he can figure that out though, I don’t think I want to hang out with him as much anymore.

I just feel like a smug prick when I surround myself with people who drink, smoke, have sex, and make poor decisions. Maybe I should find new friends, because I don’t want to sound like a smug prick, but it’s inevitable when I’m around these kinds of people. I don’t think I’ve ever met someone that I can be 100% myself and enjoy life with. I guess that’s what you’re supposed to look for in a wife.

[the-tormented-writer]

Alone Together

Relationships: Bucky Barnes x reader Warnings: none Summary: You're Tony Starks little sister who he's extremely protective of. And he's not the only one. But When Bucky Barnes comes to the tower, are you going to be able to listen to your brother and take his advice or are you going to do what you want? ---------------------- "Y/n, I know you are old enough to make your own choices.. Where you buy your car from, getting your nails done. Even the.. Men..you take interest in. But sweetheart, does it have to be him?" He looks up at you, pausing his work to toss one of his tools into a bag. You rolled your eyes, bitting the inside of your cheek. Thinking long and hard about your choice of words toward your brother. Tony crossed his arms rubbing his chin, awaiting your reply. You knew this day would come. "Tony." You sighed sweetly, leaning on one of the tables, "My brother from another mother, you know I love you..." rounding his work area, you dragged a finger over the back of his shirt. He pushed his safety googles up, raising a brow, "Ok. This can't be good." "Let me finish... " you raised your hands in front of you with your palms up, "I understand. Truely I do. I understand your hesitancy for me to be involved with him. Steves weird motherly intuition hovering about and Nat making sure I'm always armed as I go about my daily activities throughout the tower..." "Good." Tony reached his hand to pull down his glasses, "I'm glad you see it my-" "But." "And there it is." You placed a reassuring hand upon Tony's. "I like Bucky, a lot actually. and I know what you say, it's not some stupid crush." Making air quotes, you rolled your eyes toward him. "Or whatever you old folks call it, 'puppy love'?" Tony let out a boisterous laugh while you continued. "I'm serious. It's more. You know.. how you feel for Pepper-" "Hey now," Tony pointed at you, "You're getting ahead of yourself." He walked past you, retrieving another tool. "No one feels for each other like we do, we're.. well-" he blew out a bit of air making his lips flap. "A CLASSIC. TIMELESS. I know!" You threw your hands in the air turning to follow him. "Historians will write poems of your love that will put Shakespeare's earliest work to shame, and women will tell their children of it as bed time stories." You placed your hands in your hips, unable to hide the smile gracing your face making Tony laugh as well. You had hoped to have a love one day that would come close to what Tony and Pepper have. Deep down you were praying it would be Bucky. "Yeah...Damn right." Tony beamed, crossing his arms against his chest proudly. Sighing you kept a serious demeanor. "Please. Just give him a chance. Ok?" "I have no problem about giving him a chance-" "Oh thanks T. I'm glad we've had this talk and everything's gotten out-" "But..." "And there it is." Taking a deep breath you met Tony's eyes, bracing yourself for what would come next. "You can do all the sweet talkin' in the world, there's gonna be no relations in my tower." "Wait.. what?" You crossed your arms, perusing your lips. "Tony you-" He wagged an oil coated finger in your direction, "No little Winter- Starks running around while there is breath in my body." turning heel Tony headed back toward his chair, feeling victorious. "TONY!" Yelling you followed him around the lab, "I'm not saying...That's not FAIR!" "Uh uh." He rolled his eyes turning around to face you, "I'm the only one that gets to doodle Pepper wherever I see fit. " Continuing to follow him, you felt your face redden. "You're not MY dad ok?!" He abruptly turned wide eyed facing you, your words catching him off guard, "It's not like I'm some teen, I'm a grown ass woman! I too should be able to, as you so eloquently put it, 'doodle' who ever I want." In that moment you felt like a child. Tony wasn't your dad but the closest you ever had to having one. He had done a lot for you, and you had never known there was line until you had crossed it. Gripping a chair and exhaling, Tony spoke, "Then do it y/n! Fuck 20 men, or women, ya know... if that's your thing, I don't judge. Just- just NOT him." Tony took a deep breath looking you over, noticing the frown etched on your delicate features. "Barnes. He's been through hell-Literally. I know you've heard him screaming at night. And I- I just don't want you to have to deal with-" "I can't believe how childish you're being." "Moi'?" Tony pointed toward himself, "You've gotta be joking." "Is this how everyone feels? Did you take a vote amongst the Avengers collective and picked the short straw so you get to tell me I can't be with Bucky?!" Your voice squeaked, "And I get no say?! typical Stark fashion!" Tony grunted focusing on his current tinkering obsession,"I'd hate to disappoint darling. Besides, deep down- you know I'm right." You huffed, leaning on his table. "LOOK." Tony groaned, " I'll admit, overall, he's taken well to living here. Working with Sam for his PTSD, Steve- well, being the ever so clingy weird uncle, Nats informed me of his tactical control progress. Hell! Even Barton is singing his praises. " he let his hands clap around. "Wait" you smiled shaking your head. You couldn't believe this."Ok. So haven't they convinced you enough?" The plea in your voice make Tony's heart sink. There was no avoiding it, you were working his patience. "That doesn't mean you go jump the bones of EVERY SOLDIER with a sob story-" Tony looked up to you realizing what he had said in haste to resume his work. "Shit." Your mouth was agape at his harsh words, "Oh really?" You questioned, "Why don't you tell me how you really feel?" "Y/n, I-" "This is about me and Rogers isn't it?!" Your eyes began to water, damn. You told yourself you wouldn't waste anymore tears on that man. Yet here you were at the mention of your past together and you are barely able to keep calm. "No!" Tony spoke, quickly untangling himself from his current obsession. "Just. Ok. Time out." He rested both of his hands on your shoulders. "Yeah Stark, you don't want to go there with me." You spoke through gritted teeth. "I know." Tony exhaled, resting his forehead to yours, racking his brain to come up with anything to say to fix His remark. "That was completely out of line. Forgive-" "Save it." You forcefully pushed him away, "I'm going out.." Hurrying towards the lab exit, you heard a loud clang of tools hit the flawless white floor. "HEY- " Tony barked, chasing after you,"I told you from the start to let Steve handle Barnes. I gave you a DIRECT ORDER and you disobeyed. In a way, YOU bought this upon yourself." You took a step back as if his words slapped you in the face, "Really?! You're ORDERING ME now?" "YES. You're the one being childish. " Tony swallowed hard searching your eyes. "Talk about an abuse of power." You shrugged reaching for the Lab door handle. "We are family Tony, right? That authority shit may work at Ol Stark industries but not me." You jerked the door back entering into the quite hall. Tony hastily made his way towards the door before it shut fully, catching a glimpse of you before you turned the hall corner. <p>-------------</p> You stormed off an elevator, into the main lobby. Your hair bouncing off your shoulders, making your way towards Wandas wing. Rounding the corner you felt an arm grab you by your waist, yanking you into a vacant hall. "Hey, what's the big-" Your voice cracked, releasing your knife, coming face to face with your boyfriend. The deadly, most feared winter soldier.. More like the worlds biggest teddy bear when it came to you. "Hey doll. " "Shhh!" You straightened your clothes, looking around, "You have to be careful. You know Tony has cameras all around this place!" Finding the area clear you relaxed into his touch, resting your head upon his shoulder. "where are you headed?" Bucky adjusted himself to see your face, "To find you Ofcourse..." his smile faltered noticing your dampened cheeks, "Someone's been talking to Stark I see." Your eyes were glossy while fresh tears clung to your lashes. "Bucky, he treats me like a child," you played with the material of his shirt. " I feel like even if we tell him about us that he won't even give you a chance." "Stark is ..well, your brother. I don't want to speak ill of him because of that, but in a weird way, he's trying to make sure you're safe." Bucky pushed a few loose strands of hair that clung to the side of your face. "I understand where he's coming from. Maybe he'll turn around, hopefully." "Yeah, you don't know a Stark if you think that." Bucky leaned over you, resting his arm against the wall. He sightly shook his head, "Don't get all worked up, once Tony sees how much I love you.." "What?" Your expression faltered when he met your eyes. "I...I love you, Y/n. And I think when he realizes that-" You pulled him close, cutting his sentence short. Holding him captive within your kiss. He inched you both around a door frame, roughly slamming the door behind him. You giggled excitedly breaking away from him, his embrace tight around your lower back kept you in place. "Doll. I. Don't want to make you feel like-" "Like what? I want this with you Buck. So bad." "So have I, but Tony...He won't be happy about this." "I don't care how he or even the others will feel. It can even be our secret. No one has to know." Bucky embraced you tighly against his body, you were growing hot with desire, feeling his hands wander over you, he untucked your shirt, resting his hands on your hips he groaned into your mouth. You smiled, yanking the buttons from his shirt- "Hey. You bough that shirt for me, it's my favorite."</p> "I'll sew them back on." "You can't sew worth a damn babe." "Then I'll buy you another!" You ran your fingers through his long, chocolate colored hair, wrinkling your nose when the strands tickled your face. His fingers trailed across your stomach to gently cup your breast, squeezing your nipple, drawing a quick breath from you. "Someone likes that." You pushed Bucky against the wall now, shrugging off your shirt, he followed suit yanking his belt and pushing his pants down. He pulled you against him once more, moving a finger into your wet folds. Shit. He shifted exchanging places with you. Pushing you up against the wall, he tugged your pants around your hips, leaning forward he continued kissing and nipping at your flesh on your neck, swirling his wet fingers around your nub. "God Bucky." "Just Bucky is fine." "Stop being a smug ass and show me what you've got." ------------------------------ "Who knew our first time would be in an random office?" You snickered, tossing Bucky his shirt. You watched the muscles flex under his smooth skin. "Well when the occasion arises.. " Bucky spoke with a smirk, meeting your eyes. "And here I thought you liked surprises." He walked over, handing you your boots planting a kiss on your lips You blushed, "How long have we been gone before they send a search party out for us?" "By they you mean big brother?" "Please we are completely out numbered." "No! It's all of them? You've got to be kidding me. I've been dong everything and I mean everything to earn their trust." "They trust you Buck, just- Tony he, he's been betrayed so much. It's just difficult for him, give him time." "If You say so." You left a chastened kiss on Buckys lips when you heard something drop from the ceiling. "WHAT THE HELL BARTON?!" "Hey! I was going to ask if you kissed your brother with that mouth then realized how bad that sounded." He coughed, handing you your bra, "Y/n you forgot this." You stormed up to him snatching your bra, you pinched his elbow. "Oh uncle,UNCLE! Geez woman!" "Don't woman me! What are you doing here? "Please you know why I'm here. Hey Barnes." "Barton." "NO! NO PLEASANTRIES! Tony sent you didn't he?" "Well you're not wrong. Actually, they all sent me. Your tracker led to this room and since it's locked..." "Wha- a tracker? Tony put a tracker On me?!" "I know. You two really need to work on your Communication and the trust issues you two have, man! Unbelievable!" Bucky huffed, walking up behind you, "That's one word to describe all this." You turned clutching Buckys hand tightly, swiftly making your way to the conference room, pulling him closely behind you. "Doll calm down. " Buckys voice echoed in the hall along with the sound of your boots hitting the thinly carpeted floor. "You know Starks just protective of you. " "Protective is one way of putting it." Pushing the large, metal door aside with such force, Maria Hill jumped in her seat. You stomped into the conference room with Bucky trailing behind. "LISTEN UP because I will not be repeating myself." Oh shit." "Y/n I don't think this is the best time to do this-" "Bucky Barnes right here, is my boyfriend," "Pumpkin-" "And we just had sex and it was awesome." "You did what?!" "And we are going to have sex, multiple times, because we are together." "Fucking Christ." "And there is nothing that any of you can do about it because he loves me." "He loves you?!" "You love her?!" "I do." "Let me up, I'm gonna kill him!" "This is just too good." "Well, that was a riveting speech there Miss Stark but as you know, the conference room is no place for your relationship gossip or family disputes." Your turned immediately becoming overwhelmed with the need to disappear seeing Fury push himself up from the side wall. You quickly let Bucky's hand drop and averted your gaze to the floor. "Apologies director." "Now besides Mr. Barnes and Miss Stark, can anyone brief me on the events of the mission from earlier this week?" ---------------------------------------- "What has gotten into you Y/n?" "Nat, let it be." "No! I care for you, your like my sister. Barnes.. yes ..he's improved, dramatically but." "You're telling me you couldn't have waited a year or twenty, Y/n?! damn it!" "T, I love him!" "You're just a child! You don't know what that entails!" "What?! Fuck you!" "Y/n, wait..I'm not saying don't be with him." "Oh really? That's new." "I'm just saying he's still healing and I just think-" "Think what, Steve? I don't have all day." "I think he's a rebound, that you both are using one other as a crutch." "Wow Steve, tell me how you really feel." "Fuck doll! how do you expect me to feel? my best girl-" "Umm...try that again? Your ex best girl." "I just think you're still hurting..from us." "Mighty full of ourselves now aren't we?" You waved Steve off quickly headed towards your room before tears threatened to fall. You heard your door creek open revealing Bucky nearing you. Leaning into him, he surrounded you with his warmth. "They all don't get it. " "Well declaring our activities to them wasn't really the best way to go." "I know. I'm so sorry Buck." "Don't apologize, I'm sorry I didn't know they'd all swarm around you when I was meeting with Fury. I should have been there. What we do is none of their goddamn business!" His arm hissed and whirled beside yours. "Don't worry about them, alright?" You rubbed your eyes finding comfort in his enbrace. "You know what?" "What?" "I love you Y/n Stark," "And I love you." "Then that's all we need now won't we?"

#marvel fan fiction #marvel #avengers #avengers oneshot #avengers imagine #bucky barnes imagine #bucky #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes one shot #reader insert #Bucky Barnes #tony stark #Steve Rogers #natasha romanoff #Clint Barton

[jacquelineshyde]

kill me with 34

OMG! What the fuck is wrong with you, man? D: Now in revenge, i’ll write other kind of dying.

34. In a pool of your own blood

ff.net // AO3

Hyde’s day had been a nightmare.

Not only Kelso and Brooke thought it was a good day to have a big fight and leave their eldest daughter with him so they could resolve their crap alone, but the latest album shipment to Grooves was completely wrong. The distributor had screwed up his order, and he was the one who had to fix it.

He hated this part of being The Boss. He tried his damn best, but on days like this he wished he could still be the lazy kid in the basement. But nope.

Nowdays he was the owner of a growing chain of music stores that also supported small bands, giving them a chance to get heard. He was also a very stressed-out-at-the-moment husband and a very worried-for-the-past-week father.

“Uncle Hyde?” Betsy said. She was almost twelve-years-old and got bored easily. “Are we going to your house soon? I want to see Ally!”

“Almost,” he said and taped his complaint to the distribution company.

“You said that, like, a hundred hours ago!”

“Quit complaining, or I’ll take you to your grandma’s.”

“Ugh!” She lowered her head to his desk with a thump! When she looked up again, she had a red mark on her forehead, and he smiled. No way he was telling her about it. “What if I take the bus to your house?” she said.

“Nope.”

“Argh!”

He shared her frustration. He wanted to be home, too. Jackie was there, hopefully relaxing and enjoying her last maternity leave. Their eight-year-old son and five-year-old daughter were helping her take care of their youngest, seven-month-old Alison.

But in his office at Grooves, he couldn’t relax. Jackie’s calendar was an open sore stinging his brain. It wouldn’t close until she wrote a giant P under one of the days of the week. Any day of the week, as long as it was soon. “Uncle Hyde?” Betsy said as the office phone rang.

“Mmm?”

“Are you almost done?”

“Almost.”

“You said that three years ago!”

“I really am gonna take you to your grandma’s!”

“ARGH!”

He looked at his goddaughter for a moment, a smirk on his face, before answering the phone. Grooves had two numbers, one for the store itself and one for his office, which meant this call could only be from family or important contacts. Eleven o'clock told him the caller was his son, Dave.

“Hey, buddy,” Hyde said.

“Dad, mommy says you have to come home, or she won’t leave the bathroom ever again.”

“What?” He must’ve sounded strange because Betsy stared at him and blinked a few times.

“Mommy’s having a crisis in the bathroom,” Dave said.

“What?” Hyde repeated and shifted in his desk chair. Dave was always calm while talking, even when he was in trouble or reporting that one of his sisters was sick. He didn’t need to practice Zen; he was born Zen. “Dave,” Hyde said, “what’s going on?”

“Not much. Mommy doesn’t want to get out the bathroom because she’s going to traumatize me forever.” He sighed. “She wants you to come home.”

“Why?”

“Don’t know, but get here fast. Alison wakes up in, like, two hours or something. There’s no boob to give her.”

Hyde shook his head. “Dave, please, never say that in front of your mother.”

“There’s no titty to give her.”

“David.”

“Father.”

Just for a second, Hyde wondered how this kid got such personality. Then his giggle, loud and annoying, childish but full of mischief, reminded him who his mother was.

And who his father was.

“You sure she didn’t tell you what the fuss is about?” Hyde said.

“Nope.”

Why was his son such a little prick? “Good. Then … do you know what the fuss is about?”

“Well, not really,” Dave said. “But the chair’s got blood all over it.”

“WHAT!?”

**

Silence greeted Hyde when he opened the front door to his house—until his eldest daughter, Layla, spotted Betsy beside him.

“Beeeetsssyyyyyyyy!” Layla ran into her cousin’s arms, and Betsy hugged her when Hyde stepped inside and closed the door.

He sighed, looking at them, then smiled. The house seemed just as he left it this morning: peaceful. But neither Jackie nor Dave were anywhere to be seen. He checked the dining room first. One of the chairs was missing, and Dave’s statement about blood being “all over it” became apparent. Red droplets stained the rug where the chair used to be.

The door to the backyard scraped open. He glanced toward it. Betsy and Layla were dashing to the dog, who waited for them outside with his tail wagging.

They’d be safe in the backyard, especially with the dog. Page would bark if the kids needed Hyde’s attention, and he rushed up the stairs to the second floor.

Maybe Jackie was safe, too. If Dave was able to keep his cool, how much danger could she be in … unless she’d kept the truth from him. That sounded a lot like her. She was capable of acting fine as she broke down inside, just to ensure their kid’s happiness remained intact.

“Dave?” he called in the hallway.

“In your room!” Dave shouted back, and Hyde followed his voice.

The master bedroom’s door was opened and by the bathroom’s door, his kid was sitting, slumped in Hyde’s armchair and wearing a frown too deep for his age. He cared as deeply for his mother, as much as Hyde did.

“She’s been there for almost an hour,” Dave said and gestured at the bathroom.

“Just a second, man.” Hyde walked to Allison’s cradle, making sure the baby was okay.

The girl was deep asleep, no clue about the small drama around her. He smiled, caressing her small head and walking to the bathroom’s door. Sighing, he looked at his son first, who only shrugged, then knocked at the door.

“Steven?” Jackie said through the door. Hyde tried to open it, jostling the nob, but he stopped when she shouted, “NO!”

“Jackie, whatever it is, I can’t help if you don’t let me in.”

“Get David out of the room; then you can open the door.”

“What?” Hyde looked at their son, who shrugged. “Jackie? Are you okay?”

“NO!” she shouted again, and Dave looked at him with urgency. “TAKE DAVID AWAY AND GET IN HERE!”

Hyde smiled apologetically. “Sorry, buddy. Your mom seems to be a little stressed.”

“Dad, she sounds like Aunt Donna.”

“I HEARD YOU, DAVID!”

“Okay, never say that in front of your aunt,” Hyde said, but Dave only nodded. “Make sure Layla’s okay, would ya? Betsy’s downstairs with her.”

“All right.”  Dave went to the bedroom door but didn’t leave. “Dad? Make sure mommy’s okay.”“Will do, pal.”

“I love you too, David!” Jackie shouted, and Dave’s cheeks went pink. He bolted from the room, and Hyde looked at the bathroom door again. “Steven?” Jackie said.

“Doll, what is going on?”

“I have good news and bad news.”

“Okay…”

“C-come in.”

He opened the door. Jackie was sitting inside the bathtub, wearing only her underwear. Her eyes were red and puffy, and she looked at him like she was a scared puppy. He suppressed a grin at the sight. His impulse was to pull her into his arms, but the room’s smell warned him to stay put, unless he wanted Jackie to kill him.

“So,” she said and hugged her legs to her chest, “I’m not pregnant.”

“Holy shit!” He laughed, unable to hold back his relief. “Look at this! It’s a crime scene!”

“Shut up! Just get the damn pads!”

He cupped his mouth but continued to laugh. It was the first time in over a week he’d had any laughter to piss her off with. When she’d first told him her period was late, they looked at each other for three panicked seconds. Then Alison started to cry, and the real world kept them moving, even while they waited for their luck to turn.

Jackie had always wanted three kids, no less and no more. She’d sounded so practiced when she first explained why:  “If one of our children  is a genius, the second one will feel bad if she isn’t. So we need to have a third one, who’ll  also be of average intelligence. That way we can have one happy genius and two happy dummies!’

But now she didn’t seem prepared at all but ashamed, and he was having the worst time of his life, helpless to stop laughing at the scene in front of him—and about everything that had happened since they thought a fourth kid was on the way.

“Y-you don’t have pads?” he managed to say. “ So—so that’s why you made our son call me at the office–”

Water hit him in the face and cut off his laughter. Jackie had grabbed the tub’s hose and sprayed him.

“What the fuuuck?” He blinked water from his eyes, shook it from his hair.

“I have never, ever given you any problems with my period until today!” she said. “Now be a good husband and go get my pads!”

Another wave of laughter hit him. The situation was too damn hilarious. The tub wasn’t even stained with that much blood, but she pointed the hose at him again, and he put up his hands. “I’m going, I’m going!”

The bathroom fell into silence, and an excited murmur from downstairs reached them. The dog was clearly in the house again. He should’ve told Layla and Betsy to keep Page outside. Jackie didn’t like the dog being around the baby.

He sighed and walked toward the bathtub. His shirt and face were wet, and when he sat down on the bathroom tile, his ass became wet, too.

“And you’re in the tub because…?” he said.

Jackie didn’t answer. She was trying to cover the little blood on the tub’s floor. For what Dave had told him, she’d been in here for at least an hour. He reached over the lip of the tub when she finally looked up. His fingers caressed her blushing cheek, and she leaned into his touch with closed eyes.

“I never gave you problems with my period before,” she said. “No stains, no pad-problem—I always warned you when it was coming—and no pregnancy scares.” She sighed, opening her eyes and looking at him, obviously ashamed. “I’m a grown woman, and I just had a pregnancy scare after three wanted pregnancies! What is wrong with me?”

“Well…” His fingers tunneled into the softness of her dark hair. She sighed and closed her eyes again. “I wasn’t going to live forever thinking you don’t get your period,” he said. “Knew it would happen, eventually. Glad it was now when I can laugh about it and not when I’ll be all cranky–” She glared at him. “Crankier at everything,” he corrected. “We’re fine.”

“Maybe we are,” she said, “but I traumatized our kid for life! He saw the blood on the dining room chair and my clothes!”

He chuckled, but she showed him the hose, and he pressed his lips together to calm himself down. Then he sighed. “Dave is going to be fine. He was just worried about you. Once we explain this is normal and natural, he’ll be cool.”

“He’s eight, Steven.”

“Have you heard him talk?” Hyde stood up half-way, using the bathtub lip for support, and kissed her forehead. “I don’t think he’s eight,” he said and straightened up fully. “Maybe eighteen.”

“He’s my baby and will only stop being that when he leaves the house. GET MY PADS!”

“Yes, dear.” He sighed. “Just take a shower and relax, all right? I gotta change outta these clothes you hosed down.”

He left the bathroom, but before he could reach his dresser, he spotted the dog darting toward Layla’s room. The kids weren’t far behind, and he closed his bedroom door.

“Steven?” Jackie said from the bathroom. She was naked and had started the shower. “If the kids got the dog inside, please don’t tell me.”

“No problem.”

“Thank you, baby.”

He closed the bathroom door for her. Then he removed his wet clothes, put on dry ones, and went to Alison’s cradle. The baby girl was still asleep, hadn’t even move a bit. He kissed his finger and touched it to the top of her head. She could sleep through the most disruptive of noises, ability he both admired and envied.

His laughter returned as he went to the drug store for Jackie’s pads. This was what his life had become: driving home at full-speed, like Dale Earnhardt in the Winston Cup Championship, worried shit something bad had happened to his wife, and ending up having to buy menstrual pads for the first time.

He wouldn’t want it any other way.

***

**

*

#that 70s show #jackie burkhart #steven hyde #jackie x hyde #zenmasters #nini got mail #writing games #prompts #mine #my fanfics #hj fanfics #otp: anything for you doll #a guide to domestic life by the zenmasters #golden years #lordhyderon #fanfictions #a writing nini #answered prompts #zenfamily

[artificialqueens]

Barbie And Her Monster High Doll Chapter 2. (Adore x Trixie) - Lemonade

AN: There’s a lil moment where Trixie and Adore talk about being Native American so here’s a link to a tweet where Adore says which tribes she’s from. I couldn’t find much about Trixie being Native American other than the fact that she is, so if anyone has anymore specifics (which side of her family/which tribes) lmk!! We’ll pretend this didn’t happen and I’ll write in them talking about it in another chapter so it’s accurate. (I know this is an AU but I want to be respectful about it). That’s about it, I hope anyone reading enjoys this chapter!!

Adore. Such an odd name, Trixie thought. That odd name strangely fit her though. Trixie couldn’t imagine this girl, who had just punched a full grown man in the face to save a stranger, walking around with some name like Barbara.

“Are you sure he didn’t hurt you?” Adore questioned. Trixie nodded her head. A combination of being out of breath, anxious, in shock, and struck dumb by the memorizing woman standing in front of her left Trixie unable to speak. Adore lifted the hand Trixie had offered her into eyesight. “Really? Because your wrist has fingerprints bruised into the skin and you’ve clearly been crying.” Adore was straight to the point. The switch blade tucked away in her boot had only been pulled once, but if this man put his hands on Trixie the way Adore thought he did, she’d be the one chasing him down the street. “It’s happened to some of my friends.” Adore informed her in hopes of making Trixie more comfortable with talking to her about it. “You can tell me if he did. I’m sick of these dirtbags getting away with it. I don’t want him to get off easy if he hurt you.” Trixie’s eyes widened when she realized what Adore was implying.

“He didn’t touch me, I promise.” She was quick to clear up. Adore cocked a questioning eyebrow at her, not believing it but allowing her to continue anyway. “I think the bruises came from you pulling me.” Trixie added. Adore’s face fell, along with Trixie’s arm as she dropped it from her grasp. Adore felt like a true idiot now. “Oh. Sorry about that.” Trixie took one of Adore’s hands into both of hers. “Don’t be. You saved me from getting robbed by scar face, it could have been a lot worse than a few bruises if he decided he actually wanted to beat up a girl in a pink dress.” Trixie spoke with slight humor to ease the weight of the situation on her own mind, making Adore chuckle in the process was a bonus. “I like a girl who can joke about getting robbed fifteen minutes after it’s happened.” Trixie just smiled, her blushing cheeks not apparent since they were already splashed with color.

This girl wasn’t one to talk, Adore quickly noticed. Though, she was just saved from a robbery, then had to run across half the neighborhood to get away from the guy hunting them down. That would definitely leave the average person rendered speechless. Adore forgot at times that living like this wasn’t everyone’s reality; She was just lucky she supposed. “You should probably go home.” A hint of sadness was laced in Adore’s tone. She liked this girl, but she didn’t belong in her world. “It’s really not safe around here, which I think you’re aware of now.” Trixie nodded. The same hint of sorrow in Adore’s voice was written all over the blondes face. She couldn’t argue with her though, all Trixie wanted to do at this point was lay down in her own bed for the rest of the night–or the next three months. “I’ll walk you to your car or wherever.”

Adore watched Trixie’s face contort into an expression she couldn’t get a read on. “What’s wrong?” Trixie kicked herself for being so careless. The whirlwind of events had distracted her from the fact she had dropped her phone and money when Adore initially grabbed her. Her purse got lost somewhere between the building and the alleyway. Adore had put herself in serious danger tonight to save her ass, and she couldn’t even hold on to the items he was attempting to steal from her? You are so pathetic, Trixie repeated over and over to herself in her head, accidentally letting the words slip from her lips. “I’m so pathetic.” Her head dropped to her hands, so ashamed of herself she couldn’t even look at Adore in fear of seeing the same disdain she felt for herself all over the other girl’s face. “I dropped the money Alaska gave me to get home when you grabbed me.” Trixie cried through her hands. “My phone and purse too. Everything happened so quickly, I wasn’t even thinking. All I could focus on was running.” Trixie rambled, her words becoming more frantic as she grew more upset. “Hey. Hey, relax.” Adore stepped towards her, rubbing her hands up and down Trixie’s arms. Clearly she’s still shaken from the nights events, Adore thought. She didn’t know the anxiety bubbling in Trixie’s chest was the main contributor to her distress.

“I’ll walk you back to the building to get your stuff.” Adore offered.

Trixie lifted her head from her hands. “Is that safe?”

“Probably not, but I’ll be right by your side. If anyone messes with us I’ll punch ‘em in the face.”

Adore took Trixie’s hand into her own, easing her out of the alleyway they were originally hiding in. She had no plans of dropping the girl’s hand, the fear scribbled all over her face made Adore squeeze tighter. “We’re gonna be fine.” She reassured her matter of factly, using her free hand to reach over and rub Trixie’s arm again. She sounded so firm and sure in her words, Trixie took comfort in them. She let herself relax, at least enough to stop herself from breaking the bones in Adore’s hand from how hard she was holding onto her.

They spent the next few minutes walking in silence. The only words shared between the two were an “It’s okay,” From Adore to Trixie whenever she’d jump at the wind blowing through trees or a stray cat running in front of them.

“So Barbie,” Adore began, deciding to break the quiet that had fallen over them. She had a lot of questions for Trixie, and figured talking would distract her from getting scared at every noise she heard. It was a win win: she’d get to know Trixie better and stop her from shitting her panties any further. “what were you doing over here anyway?” If nothing happened tonight, had Adore just saw Trixie in passing, she’d assume prostitution. That was no dig at Trixie, or the way she was dressed. Adore thought she looked lovely, actually. The only girls around here who dressed to the nines at one in the morning were usually looking to make some money.

“If you keep calling me Barbie I’m gonna have to start calling you the ninety nine cent store’s version of a Monster High doll.” The insult flew from Trixie’s lips without any thought. Adore stopped dead in her tracks, accidentally pulling Trixie back as their hands were still intertwined. She felt so comfortable with Adore she forgot she wasn’t one of her friends who understood her humor and could be joked around with. That comfort quickly dissipated, replaced with anxiety as she internally berated herself.

Why do you have to be so stupid? Why do you always say the wrong thing? For once Trixie, can you act like a normal human being? Now she’s gonna hate you. She’s gonna hate you and leave you here for all the thugs to get a bite out of. Good job moron.

Adore’s cackling ripped Trixie out of her mental beat down. “I love it!” She wheezed out, voice strangled by her laughter. “That’s the best thing I’ve ever heard!” Trixie smiled softly as relief set into her body; Not only had Adore not been offended, but surprisingly amused by her joke.

Adore pulled herself together, wiping away the tears forming in her eyes from her intense fit of laughter. “So if I can’t call you Barbie,” She began. “can I call you gringa instead?” Adore snickered. A playful glint in her eyes told Trixie that was no term of endearment. “Depends.” Trixie said cautiously. “What does it mean?” Adore smirked, almost too pleased with herself. “It basically means white bitch.” Adore bit her bottom lip to keep her amusement from toppling over. Trixie couldn’t help but to smile at the sight of her. She looked absolutely pure, delighted with her own humor. “Actually, I’m half Native American.” Trixie shot her down, a smug look on her face knowing Adore wasn’t expecting that. “No fucking way!” Adore excitedly responded, jumping in front of Trixie while still keeping hold of her hand. She walked backwards now, blindly guiding Trixie forward. “Me too! That’s so fucking cool! Do you know what tribe you’re from?” Adore’s features had lit up with with such passion Trixie could tell she took pride in her heritage, which almost made her feel bad about not knowing much of her own. “I don’t.” She admitted with a tinge of shame in her tone. “I just know my dad was Native American.” Adore took notice of the was and made the choice to not ask Trixie anything about him. She didn’t want to risk upsetting her any further than the nights events already had. “My blood is made of Cherokee and Cahuilla tribes. I’m also Mexican, and German…and some other sort of white I can’t remember.” Adore shrugged. Trixie nodded along. “I’m just Native American with a cup of white trash.” They both laughed.

Adore skipped back to her place next to Trixie instead of in front of her. They made light conversation as they walked: what makeup brands they were both wearing, complimenting each other’s outfit, the conversation somehow switched to chocolate and now Trixie knew Adore’s favorite was dark and Adore knew Trixie’s favorite was milk. Trixie probably thanked Adore another eighteen times as she reassured her it was nothing, she was only protecting a sister.

“I just like sun chips better. I think it’s the false sense of eating hea–” “Wait!” Adore interrupted their debate on Pringles vs Sun Chips as she remember something far more important. Trixie actually stopped moving when Adore yelled. “I didn’t mean that literally.” She giggled, making sure to be gentle as to not give Trixie anymore bruises as she tugged her along.

“You never told me what you were doing around here in the first place.”

“Oh.” Trixie’s gaze dropped to the pavement. So much had happened in the past hour or so that Trixie had completely forgotten her night started out as a simple date to a party with her girlfriend. Now she had been heartbroken, almost robbed, chased by said robber, and in the midst of all this, was lucky enough to meet one of the most intriguing individuals she’d ever come across.

“I was at a party with my girlfriend–Well, ex girlfriend now.” The melancholy tone Trixie’s voice took on saddened Adore. The pad of her thumb offered soothing caresses to the back of Trixie’s hand. “Is that why you were crying? Is it the Alaska person you mentioned earlier?” Adore inquired, keeping her voice delicate as silk. Trixie bit her bottom lip, nodding yes at Adore’s question. “Well I think she’s an idiot for letting you go.” Adore spoke firmly. “I’ve only known you for like, an hour, but you seem like a sweetheart. I really like talking to you. I wouldn’t mind dating you myself.” Adore teased (though there was truth to her statement) in an attempt to perk Trixie up, nudging her softly. Trixie’s heart was in her throat at Adore’s words, her cheeks burning hot. She couldn’t stop the embarrassingly wide smile from spreading across her face. “Th-that’s really nice. I-I don’t know what to say.” A nervous laugh followed her stammering. “And you’re so easily flustered, it’s adorable.” Adore chuckled, poking Trixie’s crimson cheeks. The blush she was wearing did nothing to cover the obvious tint in her skin this time.

–—-

“I think that’s the building.” Trixie pointed to the brick structure only a few houses down. “I dropped my purse after we started running though, we should have found it by now.” Adore wrinkled her eyebrows. A sudden feeling of uneasiness washing over the dark haired girl.

As they got closer Trixie noticed, “None of my stuff is here.” She said completely dumbfounded, turning around to look at her new friend who’s eyes widened in panic. “Trixie we have to go.” She spoke urgently, her tone making Trixie tense.

“Why?”

“If your stuff’s not here he might have come back and taken it. He could be around the corner waiting to jump us.”

Trixie felt her blood turn to ice as Adore explained herself. Her heart had sunken into the pit of her stomach. She felt frozen in fear. “Trixie?” A glossed over, distant look was in her crystal blue eyes. Adore didn’t have time to snap her out of it. “C'mon. We gotta go.” She put an arm around Trixie’s waist, guiding her to walk as fast as she possibly could.

Adore made sure to walk in the street so she could see if anyone was coming at them from either side.

“Adore?” Trixie finally spoke after a few minutes had passed.

“Yeah, Trix?”

“Where am I suppose to go? I don’t have money to get home, or my phone to call anyone for a ride.”

“What? Do you think I’m gonna leave you on the sidewalk?”

Trixie wasn’t sure if Adore actually wanted an answer to that.

“You’re staying with me tonight.”

#trixie mattel #adore delano #barbie and her monster high doll #lemonade #tw anxiety #tw rape mention #rpdr fanfiction #adore x trixie #lesbian au #rare pair

[shawnjacksonsbs]

Forever parenting? It works both ways. 6-6-21

"When we choose to be parents, we accept another human being as part of ourselves, and a large part of our emotional selves will stay with that person as long as we live." – Mr. Fred Rogers

-Currently in my head is this thought, “My newest guilty pleasure is eating soft baked cookies without my dentures in. It feels so good, and the peanut butter. Just . . .yes" and I love how this is mine, and I can write whatever I want in it. Lol

Eh. . .em.  

Tk  . .tk . .tk. Is this thing on?

Ok, before we get started let me just say, it’s amazing being here once again on another beautiful and calm Sunday morning and no, it's not Father's Day, but this needed to be this here, now, today.

A pretty good Fred Rogers quote huh? That is good, bad, or indifferent for as long as they both know the other lives. Period. It just hangs there, whether or not it's a swing or a noose that hangs is kind of what we're looking for as the child.

No child wants to be born into brokenness. Not a single fucking one. Not me, not my kids, not your kids. Kids only ask for love and until they don't feel it do they even question it themselves anyway.

Some form of them [our parents] are in our minds, and hearts forever whether they are there physically or not and depends on so much more than love that it can definitely hurt sometimes.

Does design and intention equal purpose? Is purpose just to live life, or does it have some deep, cosmic meaning? That is my thought of the week I suppose. Your thoughts?

Now, I had to ask myself, do I try and be careful with most everything I say and do? Yes, I do . . .to a point.

Writing about broken, beaten, toxic, or just tough relationships with people can be difficult without airing any of the dirty laundry which sometimes played a significant role in straining said relationships, so, generally best to speak in “I” language, although, the important take away for me here isn't necessarily what we did to cause the strains, but what can be done to get to the complete other side of any of them that left without causing further damage. Right? With me so far?

I've had a very. . .strained relationship like that with my dad for the better part of 15 years or more.

We hadn't spoke for most of that until a couple of years ago, when my immediate family, to include my mom, step dad, my dad, my current step mom and other (lifetime) step mom (lol), brothers and sisters with their families, all met up in Mayview for a picnic reunion, get together. It faired pretty well with a few of us with those strains relationships got a chance to at least talk and see each other.

For me and my father, the conversation didn’t last terribly long and to say anything was actually mended would be a stretch, but it was enough to know that we still cared. It was going to help me move forward in my life with little less unfinished business that I didn’t want to be on my limited deathbed regrets list.

Not to mention, as difficult as it is to be the first to reach out it brought about other benefits like bringing my long-lost baby sister back into the fold of the family. She was the inspiration for the picnic.

My dad has some things in his life that has made it difficult for me to reach forward again. We've spoken a few times, and I thought that we had had enough through our limited time for me to be ok, if it never moved again with any more forward progress. But. . .

I don't know if that's true now.

I received a message the other day from my current stepmother, stating that my dad was admitted into the hospital. I realized that although it’s going to take a little bit to re-get to know him now, that I miss the old him. The him I used to know before  . . .[my] old, distorted life and limited world views came between us.

He wasn’t the best father, but he is still my dad. And a lot of good memories get to go along with it all. Like, especially before the offensive cereal prizes in the Christmas stocking incident of ‘85. Lolol

Wondering to myself why I wasn’t hitting up the hospital or checking on visiting hours or rushing out to see if I could see him or help in anyway, like I felt I would have had it been any other member of my family, started to tug at my heart.

What if I lose my dad now? Is it going to be detrimental because of the estrangement? Or worse, is not going to feel as deep as it should when someone loses a father?

I'm pretty sure, although I didn't realize it, I was probably not going to be ok with either of these outcomes.

We are planning another picnic/reunion thing for July. I need more to be known, and that he knows . . . how I feel. Hoping for even just a little bit more than what we have now.

Time is limited, but regrets can last forever.

The feeling of being in a stuck, unable to reach position is about to become less than a comfort for a minute, I think, but at least I got to put an "I love you" in his ear through a third-party delivery. Lol

Time to start, again.

. . .

I'm the grown ass man, full of all the "I love yous”. So, the only thing left to ask myself is, “where do I go from here?”. I've talked a lot of shit about keeping the past in the past. Time to stand all the way on that now.

And, to my dad, who I don't imagine even reads my blog, I do love you. You'll always be my dad, good, bad, or indifferent.

Its also time to go pick up my oldest son who literally just reached out while I was posting this, to come spend a few days here with us. Unconditional love with boundaries sounds difficult to procure or obtain, but it’s a process that’s necessary in very specific, and genuinely needed at times. We are human first, then family.  

Share, and share in, all the love and laughter that this world has to offer and stop focusing so hard on wanting to stay bitter. It doesn't look as good on you as you might think.

Until next week;

"So often, children are punished for being human. Children are not allowed to have grumpy moods, bad days, disrespectful tones, or bad attitudes, yet we adults have them all the time! We think if we don't nip it in the bud, it will escalate and we will lose control. Let go of that unfounded fear and give your child permission to be human. We all have days like that. None of us are perfect, and we must stop holding our children to a higher standard of perfection than we can attain ourselves. All of the punishments you could throw at them will not stamp out their humanity, for to err is human, and we all do it sometimes." - Rebecca Eanes

[tarasstorybook]

Old West One Shot

Eighteen seventy seven was a pretty interesting year, or at least Phoenix thought so, year of the cowboys and outlaws. Something about that made him want to go up and see just how much times have changed and what exactly his father’s creations were up to. Phoenix had seen enough damned souls to know what dress code for ground floor was, might as well look the part having studied it enough. Deciding to take a chance Phoenix snapped his fingers to match the time’s style, keeping his red and gold theme from the last style change.

For this time period he had a muted red button up shirt, he rolled up the sleeves and undid the top two buttons, leaving some of his chest visible. Tied around his neck was also a muted red bandana, topped off with dark pants, belt, boots and hat on a stampede string. After a few adjustments Phoenix was happy with how it turned out, he had a good feeling he was going to like this time period as he took off for ground floor. No set destination in mind he would settle to explore whatever town he landed in. The sun was bright and he tipped his hat to shield his eyes from the sun. Phoenix looked around himself at the little town, well the back of a building anyway as he turned and looked up a bit.

“Better than the center of town.” He mumbled to himself as he started to make his way to the other side of the building. There were very few people out for the time of day, if he had to guess Phoenix would say it was around midday. A shopkeep was sweeping out front of his store, turning his head in the other direction Phoenix watched people come and go. No one had noticed his sudden appearance from the back of the building, he figured it must’ve happened a lot to this town.

Walking further down the road he noticed how the town was pretty quiet side from a few people he walked past. Phoenix got a few looks from people and had a good feeling as to why, demons looked at him like that all the time, doing a slow once over and staring at something they liked then blushing when he caught them staring, Phoenix simply smiled and tipped his hat in acknowledgement. Listening to more people talk he quickly picked up how they sounded and was able to mimic it back to them, having only spoken to one person, a blonde woman in her early twenties. She had said something flattering to him, her words made him smile and duck his head a little before he said to her. He knew what she was doing, he did it in hell all the time.

“Sorry, I don’t like pretty ladies like that, but that’s mighty kind of you to say.”

“That’s too bad.” The blonde woman said. “Someone as handsome as you would make anyone happy.”

“Thank you, if it’s all the same with you I’ll be on my way.”

The blonde smiles and steps out of his way, Phoenix tips his hat in thanks as he continues walking. The rest of that day continues on uneventful, must’ve showed up in a slow town where nothing happened, ever. Phoenix frowned at himself, he shouldn’t think like that, Ambriel wouldn’t be too happy if she learned he was thinking like that. If she was all there anyway that is, she seemed to be hitting the bottle pretty hard ever since she tried alcohol for the first. It was hard to be around her when she wasn’t sober, Phoenix thought about talking with her about it, asking her where this sudden alcoholism spurred from. Phoenix was pulled from his thoughts when someone, a man, came running by, he stepped out of their way so as not be ran into. A few moments later a young, what he assumed was a woman, ran past him in pursuit of the other man and hearing her shout.

“Stop you son of a bitch!”

Now that he heard them speak Phoenix concluded that this was a young woman. Very young in fact, now he was interested in what was going on. He didn’t have to go far to investigate as he watched the teenager, he had decided later, tackle the full grown man to the ground. She had lost her hat, revealing long brown hair that fell just above her shoulders. She didn’t seem to care as a triumphant laugh came from her. After the take down a third party had joined the group, walking closer Phoenix caught the last half of what they were saying.

“-Take it from here Tyera, he’ll be locked up for a pretty long time.”

“Okay Sheriff Jones, I’m going to catch my breath and return later.”

“Don’t stray too far Deputy Calverly, work is never done.” He smiles at her, Tyera does the same as the outlaw she caught was taken away. When she turned around Phoenix noticed that proud smile on her face, she was a little young to be a deputy though wasn’t she? Phoenix tilted his head in curiousity, that was new, on ground floor anyway he was pretty sure women in hell held power of authority in some way or another.

“The hell are you staring at?” The deputy’s voice brought him from thought. Shit was he staring? Whoops, better fix things.

“Nothing.” He said. “New to town.”

“That’s obvious.” She said to him, arms crossed. “And it sure as hell didn’t look you were staring at nothing. You not have a woman deputy in your old town?”

Shit this kid was defensive, ha reminds him of his twin a little. Just a little. Phoenix thought about his next words carefully before answering this spitfire kid. “It’s not common where I come from but I respect it. That was a good take down.” He said when it looked she didn’t believe him.

She beamed quite proud. “Thank you, not bad for a woman huh?”

“No not bad at all.” This kid was amusing, Phoenix liked her. She was so proud of herself, might as well boost her confidence even more. “Where’d you learn to do that?”

“Sheriff Jones taught me everything I know.” She stands up taller.

“Your hat is still on the ground.” Phoenix points behind her.

She reached up to where it would’ve been, she hadn’t noticed it had decided to go elsewhere while she worked. She picked it up from the ground and dusted it off before putting it back in it’s rightful place, tucking her hair inside. “Thanks.”

“Deputy how old are you?” Might as well start asking the blunt questions. How much harm could he do? He can just slip behind a building and disappear if he said anything improper to her.

“Eighteen, why the fuck does that matter?”

“It doesn’t.” Phoenix raises his hands in an attempt at a peace gesture. “Just never met a lady deputy as young as you.”

“Hm.” She gives him a scrutinizing look. “Probably never been with one either considering the way you dress, and I’m not a lady this whole town could tell you that.”

Ouch, Phoenix knew she probably meant no harm in what she said but that hurt just a little. “Aren’t parents supposed to teach their kids manners?”

She went to open her mouth to say something but stopped as her expression dropped at parents. Oh he hit a nerve, fuck. Well, too late to go back on what he just said as she found her voice again.

“I’ve got just one, my dad. My mother was murdered after I turned ten. The sheriff never, he didn’t.” Her eyes welled, she was unable to finish the sentence.

Good fucking job Phoenix you made a kid cry. Phoenix yelled at himself, Brie would be so disappointed in him right now. “Hey, you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. I’m sorry I didn’t mean to hit anything sensitive.” He had lowered down to her level and placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

“I’m fine.” She defended too quickly as she wiped at her eyes. “Really, I’m fine.”

Yeah right, he couldn’t count how many times he’s told people that when he finally dumped his ass of a boyfriend. “Whatever makes you feel better kid.” He rose to his feet. “Pardon my own bad manners, I’m Phoenix what’s your name?”

“That’s a unique name, mine’s Tyera.”

“Also unique, I sometimes question what was going through my father’s head when he named me that. Nice to finally learn your name, and a kind pleasure to meet you.” He holds out his hand to take hers.

“And you.” She smiles as she shakes his. He noticed her hold was firm, her father must’ve taught her that. “You staying in town long?”

“Don’t know.” He tells her honestly. “Could probably stay a little longer, I’ve got nothing better to do.” As long he returns to hell every so often he could probably stay as long as he wants, hell maybe even make some kind of home here while making sure this kid didn’t get herself killed just cause he liked her.

She let go of his hand and started to take off. “I have to get going, work and all that. It was nice to meet you, welcome to town Phoenix.”

“See you around Tyera.” He smiles back at her and goes to explore more. Maybe he will stick around town for awhile, yeah he was going to stay for as long as he wanted. Hell was calm anyway for the moment, he can always go back for the important stuff that comes up.

#phoenix the fallen #teenage tyera #before bounty hunting #my characters #my writing #my ocs #long post #original characters #original story #crossover #a bit of a crossover #there will be more to come #meeting for the first time #slight sadness #mild language #old west #tyera is quite fast for her age #and strong #this has been in my head all fucking day #just phoenix in western wear in general #i had to write it down #god hes fucking advertising just gay he is #baby please #we get it #youre a flaming gay #tone it down just a bit okay #but at the same time you look adorable #i want this to be his everyday look now fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck #i think i favor phe #love writing about him