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abeautylives · 27 days

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Times I Remember Well

(and Some That I Don’t)

Part 1

author’s note: I’m really excited to have something to share with you guys. It’s written from a diff POV than I usually do, but my main character girly pop has a lot of personality 😘 Big big big thank you to bff @samkiszkasfacialhair for all the help, the ideas, and the motivation 🤍

pairing: female!OCxkiszkas (just read it, you’ll figure it out)

time frame: 2010-2014

word count: 5.7k this part

warnings: language, illicit substance use, rampant teenage emotions and delulu, kissing, josh 🥺

I don’t actually remember the day I met Sam Kiszka.

Not the date, or even the day of the week. I do know what year it was, because it was the year my mom moved us to this quaint (read: weird) little town. Charming, but weird. And boring.

Boring, until I met Sam.

Eleven-year-old Sam was a menace, but twelve-year-old me was bored. So obviously, we became the best of friends. He taught me how to light a firecracker, I had an endless supply of Barbies to blow up. He showed me how to slip out of my bedroom window without making a sound, I told him how to impress girls without grossing them out. In our early teenage years, he introduced me to drugs and I taught him how to unclasp a bra. Chill out, it was weed, and I wasn’t even wearing the bra.

My mom just loved that I’d made such a great friend.

The first time I was allowed to play at his house I met his sister, who was closer to my age, but it was too late. Sam and I were already attached at the hip, though mine sat an inch or two higher than his for a couple of years, until a growth spurt and puberty eventually left him with the height advantage.

That was when he stopped calling me by my name, and started calling me Tiny. Like I said, a menace.

“You’re the coolest girl I know, even if you’re vertically challenged.”

Please note: the first time he said this to me, he had finally just surpassed me in height by half an inch.

Then of course, there were the twins. You’d think the eldest siblings would not have become a big part of my life, but they were just always around, and actually liked hanging out with their baby brother. Close knit family and all that. It’s weird, right? At the wise and worldly age of twelve, the two fourteen-year-olds terrified me. Josh and Jake were both scary in their own way to a pubescent girl on the cusp of teenager-dom. Jake was pretty quiet, but his ego was not. He was hot, okay? In like, a Justin Bieber-y way but also kind of a jock-y way, but a jock with a guitar. Whatever, I’m only human.

Josh was… well, Josh was Josh. Unlike anyone else I’d ever met, and not necessarily in a good way. He was loud, like, all the time. He never seemed to stop talking and ended most of his sentences at an eardrum-piercing decibel level. Fortunately, or not, he didn’t get hot until I was old enough to obsess over it.

I’m sure I didn’t speak a coherent word to either of them the entire first year of my friendship with Sam.

I have a million memories of the time I spent with Sam and his family, but I have no recollection of the day I fell in love with Josh Kiszka.

But once I did, it was a deep, obsessive kind of love that only a teenager can achieve. One day he was my best friend’s eccentric older brother and the next…

Well, the next he was a rockstar.

I mentioned the whole jock with a guitar thing that Jake had going on, and that really hadn’t changed, but somewhere along the way Josh had transformed from a loud, annoying theater kid to a genuine, full blown vocalist. I mean, for a while he was both.

When they first started playing together, I only gave a shit because they’d roped Sam into it too and it took up way too much of his time. I’d watch them play, and they weren’t… bad? They weren’t good either. My time could have been better spent watching R rated movies (scandalous) or, I don’t know, doing my homework. But nope! We were in a band now.

They practiced, a lot. It felt like all they did was practice, for at least a couple years. And I just watched dutifully, every weekend of every month of every year. They did get better.

But here’s the thing. I was there for all of it. I was there the day Jake ran into the living room and snatched Sam up by the back of his shirt. Come on Sammy boy, we need you on bass. I was there the day their buddy Kyle sat down at the drum kit and completed the ensemble. (I was also there the day he got replaced.) And of course, I was there the day Josh pushed his voice past the instruments and the amps, and went from a weak imitation of a rock singer to something else all together. Something totally and completely him.

That’s not the day I fell in love with him (I would’ve remembered), but it was the first time he had ever… impressed me. And not that I cared, but Jake was impressed too. I saw it on his face.

It was cute. In like, a sweet, brotherly way.

Okay, anyway! The combination of Jake’s skill and Josh’s raw talent got them noticed. (Sammy’s talent would develop over time, I didn’t forget about him. Sam, you’re the most talented one in the band.) And then they were playing actual gigs. I wasn’t allowed to go to most of those early ones, because for some reason these dive bars were permitting these pint sized, teenage Zeppelin wannabes to perform at them. Old people like our parents loved that shit. The locals went crazy for it.

They played Fischer Hall a couple times, right there in town, but around their third or fourth gig there, Josh had unbuttoned the flowy, floral, women’s blouse he was wearing and took to the stage with it hanging open, beaded necklaces draped down his bare chest and curly hair wild.

Why was he sort of… ripped? How had I never noticed? Were his pants always so tight? And low cut? I was sweating. I didn’t even know he was literally cosplaying Robert Plant.

Did I fall in love with him that night? Of course not, I already told you I don’t remember the day that happened.

The Saturday after my sixteenth birthday, I left my house around 8:30 to head to Sam’s. To my mom, this was an average Saturday night - I spent nearly all of them at Sam’s house, where his parents were always home. Ya know, or so mine thought. Whether the Kiszkas were actually home or not, we hung out in the garage.

That’s not as weird as it sounds, it was a really cool garage. With furniture and everything. And their instruments, a lot of them. I don’t know how every one of these guys knew how to play every instrument packed into that room, but they did. And by the time I was sixteen, they were really almost good at it.

(Jake was good. Very good… I told you he was hot.)

This particular Saturday though, this was going to be the Saturday that changed my life. And I wanted to dress the part.

In hindsight, I wore something I’d probably worn a hundred times. Then why had it taken me so long to get ready? I changed my jeans twice, my shirt at least ten times, added a sweater, threw it back on my bed, added a flannel, tossed that to the floor. Picked it back up and shoved my arms in, made sure it hung off my shoulder just so. Shoulders are sexy, right? Do guys like shoulders? Oh shit, what do guys even like?

Anyway, I left the house looking exactly as I always did.

I rode my bike slowly that night, already hyper aware of the sweat under my arms.

So I slowed my pedaling even further. When the house came into view, I hopped off the bike and walked it up the drive before tossing it to the grass outside the garage.

Okay, knock twice and just go in.

That’s what everyone always did, what I always did. Just knock twice then lift the door. Everyone was always welcome, come on in!

So go in, idiot.

Look, I did it eventually. Just like always, knock knock, lift the door enough to slip underneath, let it close behind me. Except when it rolled back to the ground, I lost my nerve and stood frozen there for a few seconds too long.

Sam called me out, because he’s a menace.

“The hell are you doing, Tiny? We started without you.”

I moved farther into the space, eyes bouncing between my options through the soft haze of pungent smoke that already hung over the room. There was my usual spot - on the floor, next to the spot where Sam sat cross-legged, his long frame folded and bent, his sharp elbows resting on his knees as he waited for the joint to make its way back to him.

Not tonight, I’m on a mission.

Jake sat to his left, in a well-worn, floral print wingback chair. It was comfortable enough for one person, decades of weight softening the strength of the cushion’s springs before it ever came to live in this particular garage. Jake’s body was slung over it, legs thrown haphazardly over an arm while his own were wrapped around an acoustic guitar. Typical. He tipped his chin at me from under the brim of a bucket hat, then nodded towards the floor beside him. Holy shit, does he want me to sit by him?! I think my fingers lifted in a barely-there wave but I’m not really sure they were functioning correctly.

Okay focus, he did not. Does not. Not in this lifetime.

Still without his next hit, Sam glanced up at me over his shoulder and patted the threadbare throw rug next to him. “Sit down weirdo, you’re making me paranoid.”

Nerves that I’d never, never, felt before in this room fluttered through my stomach, I let my gaze meet Sam’s before continuing the search for a place to plant myself.

There was really only one option left - the couch - and both ends were already occupied. Our friend Danny (Kyle’s replacement, sorry Kyle) was in the process of melting into the corner closest to Jake, his eyes glassy and already tinged pink when he looked up at me. Only his eyebrows lifted in greeting before he mirrored Sam’s offer to sit next to him, tapping the cushion beside him.

This is fine, totally normal! Danny was Sam’s other half. Well, his other male half. I guess we were in thirds. A trio.

I accepted the offering, stepping around the coffee table, scarred with years worth of “art” - drawings and carvings, a few discreet dirty words etched into the surface in between - to drop to the middle of the couch. One of Sam’s brows tipped up when I met his eyes again, his expression asking, “Dude, what gives?”

“Hey, you’re here!” He noticed me, finally. Silvery smoke crept from between his lips as he grinned, and I watched transfixed when they pursed together and he blew a cloud toward the ceiling. My stare was broken when he leaned across the table and passed the joint to an impatient Sam, but to the delight of the butterflies going nuts in the pit of my stomach, he leaned back into the cushions and threw an arm over the back of the couch behind me. EEEEP!

“Hey-“ It was a humiliating and unsexy croak, and I quickly cleared my throat and tried again. “Hey, Josh. Hi.”

His long hair was pulled back, his entire face available for my viewing pleasure. Things were going perfectly.

I joined the rotation, the weed easing the flutters caused by sitting so close to Josh, but amplifying the feeling that the other three were watching and wondering why I was acting so strange.

They were not. They were high.

Aside from the stray curious eyebrow from my BFF across the table, they actually acted like nothing was abnormal about my seating choice, even when I started to scooch imperceptibly to my left every time I adjusted the way I was sitting.

Pulled my legs up under me? Scooch.

Dropped them down so my sneakers met the cement? Scooch.

Crossed my left ankle over my right knee? Scooch.

It was totally subtle.

“I’m gonna grab a pop, you guys want anything?” Sam startled me out of a pleasant reverie as he jumped up from the floor, but my freaking knee was touching Josh’s knee! No I don’t want anything, I have everything I need right here!

It turned out Sam was a huge knee blocker. He gripped me by an elbow and peeled me from the couch as the others murmured at our retreating backs about needing Doritos. He pushed me out the side door and towards the house and had me in the kitchen before I could even tell him he was ruining everything!

Even through bleary, hooded eyes, his death glare was brutal.

“Saaammmmm, what are you doing?!” “What the hell do you think you’re doing, T?”

More glaring. He broke the glare-off first, jerking his head to the side to flick his hair out of his eyes and turning to open the refrigerator, but once his face was inside it, he called me out again.

“Why are you being so weird with Josh?”

I love him, I need him!

“Whaaa.. I don’t know what you mean. You’re just super high.” Yeah, I really thought that would work. Sue me!

Straightening to his full height (seriously, like two inches taller than me… maybe three), he spun to face me again. He actually looked down his nose at me.

“Do you like, like him? What the fuck, Tiny?” He whispered that last part, as if his parents were lurking around the corner waiting to bust him for cussing.

“Look, you wouldn’t understand Sam. I’m much older than y-“

“You’re not even an entire year older than me.”

“Eleven months is basically an entire ye-“

“That’s not the point!” That part was like whisper yelling. I swear it looked like he was yelling, but it sounded like he was whispering.

“Okay!” Yeah, I whisper yelled back. “Sammy, I like him… I’m sorry! I don’t even know when it happened but I woke up one day and I realized that he’s perfect! He’s funny and nice and he’s so… so… cute! Okay? He’s so cute I wanna die and I love him!”

Sam’s eyes were wide, as wide as they could be under the circumstances, and he stared at me like I’d grown another head. With a horn coming out of it.

“You love him. You realize how dumb you sound right now?”

Dumb? No no, this was serious. I pleaded with my best friend for forgiveness. And his help. “Sam… please. Don’t be mad at me, I- I don’t know, I can’t help it! That’s just how I feel, and I want him to like me back!” That’s when it hit me, I needed a wingman for this plan.

“Can you help me get him to like me back?” I gave him my best puppy dog eyes, bottom lip stuck out and everything. As if that had ever worked in the four years we’d known each other so far.

“Fuck no.” His eyes moved side to side, looking for sneaky parents again I guessed. “Definitely not. Why do you have to like my brother, dude? That’s sick, it’s like incest or something!” He stomped his feet a little, and I couldn't help but think it made him look like a child. He was a child! This was serious, grown-up shit and I didn’t have time to play games.

“Ugh, if you’re not gonna help me then at least get out of my way.” I pushed past him and headed back out of the house and into the garage. Not much had changed when I got there, but Danny must have left while Sam and I were gone. The entire couch was empty aside from Josh, still sitting cross-legged in one corner. Damn it!

I flopped into the spot that Danny had vacated, just as Sam hustled back in through the side door, arms full of sodas and bags of chips. My cheeks were warm when I looked up at him, and then they burst into flames.

“Scoot over T, I like the corner spot.”

He’s helping me! Oh shit, he’s helping me. Move your ass!!

Fumbling for a grip on reality, I couldn’t tear my eyes away from Sam’s. He lifted his brows and tilted his head in Josh’s direction. I suddenly remembered why I wasted all my days with this kid - he’s my ride or die. And now I owed him, big.

As soon as I stood to shift to the center of the couch, Sam’s elbow snuck out and made contact with my shoulder. My feet tangled with each other and, balance lost, I tumbled. Right into the arms of my beloved.

Okay okay, that’s a reach. But I did land on him. Sam had nudged me just hard enough to send me toward the opposite end of the couch and I landed ass-first on Josh’s leg, still folded and crossed under the other.

Through the mortification, I heard Sam’s distinct snickering as he placed himself gently on the other cushion. Then, through the popping of soda tabs and crinkling of chip bags, I heard the sweetest, most beautiful sound ever.

“If you wanted to sit next to me so bad, you could’ve just done it, T.”

I quite literally had to extract myself from his lap, but Josh just giggled as I clumsily moved off of him. To my extreme delight and disbelief, I didn’t make it too far. He slung an arm over my shoulders and kept me at his side. We are sharing a cushion. ALERT ALERT - OUR THIGHS ARE TOUCHING.

His hand wrapped around the ball of my shoulder and squeezed. Not once, but twice. I felt like I was gonna puke, but I risked turning my head and meeting his eyes. And he. Fucking. Smiled.

“You good, Tiny?” I should’ve laughed. We were the same exact height, I could be calling him tiny. But this wasn’t funny, because he was still smiling at me and he’d lowered his voice to speak directly to me and I felt it all the way to my toes. Somehow I managed to smile back.

“I’m good.” I was soooooo good. Even when Sam shoved a bag of Doritos at me, I was good. Because Josh reached into it and pulled a few out for himself. He reached into my lap! For chips!

Risking a sideways glance at Sam, I found him eyeballing Josh’s hand that was still resting lightly over my shoulder. I gave him my best “holy shit holy shit holy shit” expression, to which he rolled his eyes and shrugged. Before turning my attention back to the love of my life, my gaze drifted past Sam and landed on Jake. Oh, he was still here? Hadn’t noticed.

Except I was noticing. And he didn’t look pleased. He locked in and held eye contact, absolutely scowling. He was pissed. At me?! I must not have hidden my surprise well, because after a few more tense seconds of the longest eye contact we’d ever held, he blinked away and flung the guitar he’d been cradling all night over the arm of the chair.

Look, he didn’t throw it or anything. The stand was right there and the guitar landed safely, if not a little roughly, in its place. But then he tossed the open bag of Lay’s to the table, swung his legs around and stood. He caught my eye again, his hair doing that flippy thing over his eyebrows as he shook his head.

“Whatever. Night, guys.”

Just like that, he was gone. Two down, one to go. GTFO Sam!!

The next hour or so passed in a blur. Sam kept hitting the joint long after Josh and I had turned it down, and by the time he’d deposited the roach in the ashtray he could barely keep his eyes open. I watched his head fall back into the cushion and pounced on my opportunity.

Leaning away from Josh’s loving embrace (shut up, I was in heaven okay?), I slapped Sam’s chest with the back of my hand.

“Sammy… Sam!” He snorted as his head whipped up, swiped a hand over his mouth and looked at me. I was still leaning toward him, my back to Josh, and I spoke to him telepathically. Or with my eyebrows.

Get out of here right now or so help me God.

He answered verbally, like he couldn't even read my mind. “Huh?”

I withheld growling at him like an animal. “Why don’t you go to bed, man? You’re toast.” Go. NOW.

His eyes tried to focus on me, they really did, before he shook his head and tried again. “Shit. Yeah, okay. Are you… do you wanna stay on the couch tonight?”

Yes. This couch. Allll night long.

“Yeah yeah, I will, but I’m not tired yet. I’m just gonna, um, chill here for a little bit longer?” At that, I turned my head and risked a glance at Josh. Thank God I did, because he was already looking at me, and he grinned. EEEEEEEP!

“I’m not tired yet either, we can listen to some music.” I doubted I could hear music at that point, not over the blood rushing in my ears. But then, oh then, he looked up at Sam and said, “I’ll make sure she makes it to bed, I mean, the couch. Downstairs, I’ll make sure she makes it downstairs.”

“Fine, whatever.” See? He’s my ride or die. “See you in the morning, T.” And then he was gone.

We were alone.

HELLO? WE. WERE. ALONE.

Sure, I’d been alone with Josh before. I’d been hanging around his house nearly every day for four years, we’d definitely been left in a room together at some point. But not while his arm was draped loosely over my shoulders, not while our legs were touching, not while my heart was about to beat out of my chest.

But now that we were alone, I had no effing clue what to do. Then Josh stood up. My heart dropped into my stomach, but he walked over to the stacked milk crates that housed a small part of their family’s record collection and crouched to skim through them. He found something he liked and set it on the turntable, the needle bringing the crackling beginnings of a song to life.

When he turned back to face me, I thought for sure he’d sit in that ugly wingback chair. Or at the other end of the couch. Instead, he circled the coffee table and sat on the opposite side of me than he had been all night. And now his other thigh was touching mine!

I’m pretty sure my throat closed up because I had to clear it rather unattractively to speak. “What, uhh, ha, um, who is this?”

Sexy, right?

Didn’t matter, his smile took shape right in front of my eyes and all I could see was the little barely-there gap between his front teeth. I wanted to know what it felt like on my tongue. Would I be able to tell? If I kissed him right now, would I be able to feel that little discrepancy in the perfection of his teeth? I lifted my eyes to meet his and realized he’d spoken, and I’d missed it.

“Sorry, uhh… what?”

His head tilted and his eyes searched my face for… something. “Wilson Pickett. Sammy hasn’t played this for you?”

Sammy? Who is Sammy? Ohhh right, best friend.

“Um, no, I don’t think so. But maybe? There’s always music on, he’s probably played this.”

He just nodded, at first in response to my rambling and then in time with the song. When it ended, he just… looked at me, for what felt like forever but was probably only a few seconds. I was once again hyper aware of my underarms. Sweating. So I slipped the flannel off of my shoulders, keeping my forearms in the sleeves but giving me some airflow to the pits. Josh’s eyes dropped from mine and landed on the now exposed skin. Yes! Guys like shoulders!

The realization slapped me in the face, so I grabbed it and ran. I slid my arms out of the sleeves and tossed the flannel past Josh and onto the chair, thanking God that I’d worn a tank top. He gulped. Like a full-blown gulp.

Omg I’m making him nervous!!

Confidence boosted, I shifted even closer to him, until our bodies were tucked tight against each other. I’d never been this close to him, aside from that one time we’d been crammed in the back seat of his mom’s car with Sam and Jake, their sister sitting pretty in the front seat. But then I had been a scrawny kid, only thirteen (and a half) and he had been a really weird fifteen year old, not yet having grown into his features. I hadn’t wanted any part of his stinky, sweaty, farty body near me and I’d squeezed myself so close to Sam I was practically in his lap.

But on this night? This Saturday after my sixteenth birthday, I was no longer a kid. And he was no longer weird. He was beautiful, and my face was really close to his face. I could feel it when he whispered, his breath actually touched my lips.

“Wha- what are you doing, T?”

He was looking at my lips, waiting for my answer. I licked them because I was freaking parched, but he watched. And I watched him gulp, again! My tongue slipped out and wet my bottom lip a second time.

“Josh?” Whispering is sexy, it’s seductive. I was sure of it. He did it back, just my name - my actual name - lilting at the end in question.

“Do you.. wanna… kiss me?” I leaned over him, placed my left hand on his chest and felt his collar bone under my fingertips through his t-shirt. Holy shit holy shit holy shit.

I saw the panic widen his eyes, then they darted around me, looking at anything but me. It was really so cute how nervous he was. He was eighteen, for Christ sake! And I was making him nervous!

“Kiss me, Josh.” His eyes snapped back to mine, slipped down to my mouth again and then back.

And then. He. Freaking. KISSED. ME.

In a split second that felt like hours, I watched his eyes close and perfect lips pucker. My eyes stayed open at first, I didn’t want to miss this.

Leaning further into him, I settled my lips against his and slid the hand on his chest up the side of his neck (his pulse was out of control, by the way), and then cradled his jaw. My fingertips were in his hair right behind his ear. I pulled his face closer and ramped up the pressure of our lips pushed together.

He put his hands on me. I swear to God, he really did! One reached for my hip and the other came up to rest against my cheek. My eyes fluttered closed and my body took over. Not a coherent thought left in my pretty little head. Especially when our mouths separated, and then he pushed them back together.

With a mind of its own, my other hand came up and gripped his shoulder. Then my leg swung over his lap and I. Was. Straddling. Him.

It wasn’t my fault. My brain had gone haywire, my body moving on instinct. I’d quite literally never done this before. I’d kissed plenty, I even kissed Sam once (barf), but this felt different. This felt mature. Probably a little more mature than I was ready for but like I said, it was not my fault.

A lot of blame fell on Josh, a whole mountain of it, when the hand on my cheek dropped to my other hip and gripped hard, pulled me flush against him. And his lips coerced my mouth open. And the tip of his tongue swept out and touched mine.

Oh, I was in way over my head. But this was Josh, the boy I loved, and he was loving me back!

A sound I’d never made before crept up my throat. Instant embarrassment heated my already toasty cheeks and climbed up my neck, but then. Ohh then. The same freaking sound came from somewhere below me. Josh groaned. Because of me.

My animal brain completely took over. My tongue was already sliding against his, and my hips decided to follow suit. With zero finesse, they rocked into his. Just once.

He broke the kiss and dropped his head back to the cushion.

No no noooooo, you like this! You love it!

I could feel the proof that he loved it. I was sitting on it. I could see it, his chest heaving.

So I leaned forward and pressed a kiss against his throat.

“Stop, T.” His hands fell limp and landed on my thighs. My brain scrambled to catch up. Stop? Go! His fingers spread across the denim on my legs. Go go go!

But then he pushed. I leaned back to see his face, find an explanation, but his eyes were still closed as he pushed me off of his lap. Helped me swing my leg back over. Kept his hands on my thighs until they were planted back on the couch and closed. Firmly. Then they left me, and I felt their absence like a knife to the heart.

“I… wow, okay.” It’s the best I could manage to formulate, but my brain was running in overdrive.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have let that happen.” He rubbed his palms, the ones that were just holding me, over his knees then leaned forward and dropped his forehead into them.

Okay, maybe he just thinks we were moving too fast!

“Josh, it’s okay. I want this! We can just kiss, I’ll stay over here and you stay there and-“

It was so quiet, but it stopped my words on my tongue and slammed my lips shut.

“I can’t.”

Okay. Okay. Okay.

It’s because Sam’s my best friend.

It’s because I’m too young.

He thinks I’m still a kid.

Like his kid sister.

Fuck!

Anger rolled through me. “Why? Is it Sam?”

He scrubbed his hands over his face and turned to me. Looked at me, finally.

“No, I-“

“Am I too young for you? You’re not that much older, Josh and we’ve known eachother forever, it’s not that big of a de-“

“It’s not that, Tiny.” His eyes closed again.

“Don’t call me that!” He’d offended me, I was o-ffen-ded. “I’m not a little fucking kid!” Okay, I was pissed! I was a grown ass woman!

(I wasn’t.)

Both of his hands reached forward and he pulled mine towards him. Held them there. Opened his eyes. Was he gonna cry? Why are his eyes wet?! Shit, am I crying?

“It’s not you, T. It’s me.” Oh please. “I- well, I um, I like someone else.”

Back to angry! “What?! Then why the hell were you kissing me?!” What a scoundrel, what a snake, what an asshole!

“It’s not like that-“

“What the fuck is it like?!” I didn’t normally curse much at that age, but when I tell you I was mad? Hurt? Embarrassed? I couldn’t stop it from happening.

Shit, his eyes were definitely wet.

“It’s a guy.”

He whispered it, and it wasn’t sexy, it wasn’t seductive. It was sad. Scared. Defeated. I snatched my hands out of his.

There was a long silence. Uncomfortable. He stared at his empty hands and we processed.

“What did you say?” His posture shrank, like he was trying to disappear. “Josh, it’s okay. Talk to me.” It was my turn to take his hands. I held them in mine and squeezed once.

“I’m so sorry, I- I just don’t like you. Like that.” His eyes found their way back to my face, “I really like him.” They went wide and I’m pretty sure mine did too. He seemed shocked that he’d said it out loud, right before panic spread across his features again.

“Please don’t say anything, T. I haven’t- no one knows that. No one. Please.”

“No, I would never Josh, I swear. I just… why were you, ya know, kissing me?” Touching me, pulling me in. He pulled his hands away from me this time.

“I just wanted to feel normal. I wanted them to think I was normal.”

I couldn’t help it. I threw my arms around him and held on tight.

“You are.” Normal and beautiful and perfect. And not mine. A heavy sigh slipped from between my lips. “There’s nothing wrong with you.”

He stayed silent, so I did too. I kept my arms around him for a few minutes before finally letting them slip free, rubbing a palm between his shoulder blades.

“I guess I should go… Are you okay?” Look, I was not okay, but it didn’t seem like that was important anymore.

“Aren’t you gonna stay downstairs tonight?”

Definitely not. “No, I think I should go home…” Probably won’t show my face over here for a goooood long time.

“Let me walk with you.”

I did. He walked on the other side of my bike while I walked it by the handlebars. When we reached my driveway, I left the bike propped against the side of the garage and turned to him. And just like in my dreams, he moved close and pecked a kiss into my cheek. Then he pulled me into his arms.

“I’m really sorry… I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings, ya know?” His voice was soft and low, his breath tickling my ear. It should’ve been a literal dream come true.

A half step back and I rubbed my hands up and down his arms. “It’s really fine. I’m sorry for…” Humiliating us both? “Everything.”

“You don’t have to apologize. I mean it,” he emphasized when I shook my head. “Just… please don’t say anything. Even to Sam. Especially to Sam. I’m gonna tell them all when I’m ready, I think.”

Huge, massive sigh. “I won’t. I promise.”

And I never did. Not really.

#greta van fleet #gvf #greta van fleet fan fiction #greta van fleet fic #gvf fic #sam kiszka fic #sam kiszka fanfiction #sam gvf #sam kiszka #jake kiszka #jake kiszka fan fiction #jake gvf #jake kiszka fic #josh kiszka #josh kiszka fanfic #josh kiszka fic #josh gvf #greta van fleet fanfiction

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theteablogger · 2 months

Note

Why do you think that Andy specifically uses fandom to build cults/manipulate people, rather than more conventional religious or spiritual ideas?

This post is pretty long, but well worth a read, and gives a number of reasons why fandom has been the most convenient avenue for Andy to abuse people. Here are a few excerpted points:

Fandom has an unending, always-increasing, EXTREMELY OPEN supply of victims. [...] In real life, people are very unlikely to come up to you, sobbing, stumbling, and generally in extreme distress, and open up to you about their extensive emotional damage, their deepest, darkest secrets and fantasies, the subjects that are central to their passions, their enjoyment of life, and (in extremity) their willingness to keep breathing for another day - yes here’s the complete list - and their extreme sensitivity to certain stimuli that will quite possibly leave them shaking, their heads spinning, and their minds wide open to all sorts of fuckery - yes, here’s the other complete list. Because that would be giving a predator the keys to the kingdom, and people are distrusting enough in the offline world that they’re hardly going to leave that open for every stranger to examine, digest, and consider at length. On Tumblr, that’s sometimes contained just in the blog header. [...] An abundance of vulnerable teenage girls and naive twentysomethings. [...] A lack of parental supervision. A lot of people in fandom are HIDING from their parents. Excellent! It means the ONLY authority figures are authoritative, wise, kindly BNFs… ones who are so concerned for socially-isolated, mentally-ill teens…

As I noted in my reblog of that post, Andy did add elements of various religions into his cults, especially as a means of explaining how "channeling" worked and why it was a legitimate practice:

Remember, when he was first getting his claws into Abbey, how he went on and on about how a “pagan priestess” told him that elves, hobbits, etc. were real? This was the person who allegedly told him that he was a “Rare Lesbian Paladin” and that these spirits were reaching out and communicating through him. Supposedly the “Great Mother” was connecting to Abbey through Pippin, which makes no sense, and occasionally he would throw in the names of a god or two that was actually worshiped by some past culture. Apparently this evolved into an actual religious…thing. I hesitate to say “practice” because it doesn’t seem to have been organized at all, but in her AMA, Abbey elaborated a little on the Tolkien-influenced “pagan” thing he was doing with her, Diamond, and Little Sam. She also said that toward the end of their involvement, he was trying to get her into Catholicism.

#andythanfiction #thanfiction #andrew blake #andy blake #religion

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thsillystringbeanscribbler · 3 months

Text

Bunny Slippers

Summary: While on the hunt for their dad the Winchester brothers are encouraged by Bobby to reach out to an old hunting buddy of John and Bobby. The trip leads to meeting not only a rugged hunter which is a missing puzzle piece to their dad's disappearance but also got to make the acquaintance of his lovely daughter.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader [ OC ]

Warnings: mostly fluff with a sprinkle of possible violence or angst, maybe slow burn (i'm not too sure)

Word Count: 4,685 words

Author's Note: This is my first ever fanfiction. I dont really know how to write y/n so oc is all you're getting. I recently discovered the world of Supernatural and I am in love. This story takes place during Season 1, it doesn't really follow the story line and there might be some lore in accuracies. Please be kind, and I hope you enjoy my little story.

image from Pinterest

With Bobby's wise counsel and the elusive hints scattered in John's journal, he implored the brothers to seek out Rob Blackburn, who could potentially steer them toward John. Rob, as Bobby explained, wasn't just an ally; he was a long-time comrade of both John Winchester and Bobby, often accompanying them on perilous hunts. Armed with this knowledge, Sam and Dean embarked on their journey to Boston in the trusty Impala. Dean took the wheel, immersing himself in the thumping beats of rock and roll, while Sam, map in hand, navigated the labyrinth of roads leading to Robert Blackburn's whereabouts. The pages of John's journal rustled in the background, revealing his own trek to Massachusetts, where he had joined forces with Rob to confront a formidable Wendigo.

In the early autumn morning, the Impala turned down the street of the Blackburn home, the epitome of historical charm found in Boston. The townhouse stands out with its red brick facade, large curved windows adorned with black shutters, and stately black entrance doors. Wrought iron railings line the stone steps leading up to the front doors, and mature trees along the sidewalk cast dappled shadows onto the cobblestone street. The vehicle comes to a halt in front of the winsome townhouse, with its elegance further accentuated by the cascading wisteria, lending a touch of natural beauty to the urban setting.

Dean cut the engine, his gaze shifting from the Blackburn residence to his brother. Sam, peering at Dean, broke the silence with his characteristic intensity. "So, think you're ready to face whatever's in there?" he asked, his voice tinged with both concern and determination.

Dean responded with his usual bravado, a smirk playing on his lips. "Ready? Sam, I was born ready. Let's do this." His tone was confident, almost playful, yet underscored by the seriousness of their mission.

Moving in unison, the brothers climbed the steps to the Blackburn residence. A silent exchange of resolve passed between them as Dean turned to face the ominous black door. He pressed the doorbell, and for a moment, there was only silence. Impatient, Dean began to knock forcefully, intent on getting an answer.

Before he could knock again, hurried footsteps approached from inside. The door swung open to reveal a petite, dishevelled woman. Her light auburn curls were hastily tied atop her head, and her sleepy green eyes, magnified by tortoise-rimmed circle glasses, blinked at the unexpected visitors. Dean's gaze travelled over her, taking in the oversized Van Halen band t-shirt, the long flannel Batman pyjama pants tucked into mismatched white tube socks, and the pink bunny slippers, all indicating she had indeed just rolled out of bed.

The woman, stifling a yawn and crossing her arms defensively, addressed them with a groggy, gravelly voice. "Hello? Can I help you with something?" Her sleepy demeanour contrasted sharply with the urgency of their visit.

The faintest hint of a smile played across Dean's face, a touch of warmth amidst the crisp Boston morning. The dishevelled stranger before him, a haphazardly charming vision in her comic book pyjamas and mismatched socks, sparked a flicker of amusement in his hunter's gaze. She couldn't be much older than Sam, he mused, who was barely past the threshold of twenty-two himself.

Clearing his throat, Dean straightened up a little, his eyes locking onto hers with an earnest steadiness. "Morning," he started, his voice carrying the signature gravel of a man used to long nights and the roar of a V8 engine. "Sorry to wake you, but we're looking for Rob Blackburn. The thing is," he paused, the weight of their search momentarily tightening his features, "our dad was working a case with him, and now... Dad's gone off the grid. We were hoping Rob might have some answers."

He watched her closely, not just for her response, but for any sign, any tell that might unravel the mystery of their father's whereabouts.

The woman's head tilted slightly, causing a few untamed curls to escape her hastily made morning bun. She squinted at Dean, her eyebrows knitting together in a puzzled frown. As her gaze shifted between Dean and Sam, a hint of wariness crept into her expression. "Sorry," she murmured, her free hand sliding under her glasses to rub at a sleepy eye. "But who are you guys, exactly?" she asked, her lips pursed slightly, clearly waiting for an explanation.

Dean met her gaze squarely, his expression a blend of seriousness and charm. "Name's Dean and this towering figure here is my brother, Sam," he said with a hint of a smirk. "We're here looking for Rob. You might know him through our dad, John Winchester. They go way back, and it's kind of important we talk to him." His tone carried the urgency of their quest, yet remained respectful, acknowledging the oddity of their early morning visit.

Her eyebrows lifted from their puzzled frown as the name John Winchester sparked a flicker of recognition in her features. Hesitating for a moment, she leaned slightly forward, peering past Sam and Dean to scan the street. Her green eyes settled on the shiny black Chevy parked in front of the house. Dean, noticing her gaze, followed it to the Impala.

With his trademark flirtatious smile, Dean couldn't resist a playful comment. "Hey, if you're interested, I could show you what she's really capable of," he said, nodding towards the Impala. The woman's eyes snapped back to Dean, a blush creeping onto her cheeks. Realizing how his words might have sounded, Dean quickly clarified with a cheeky grin, "The Impala, I mean. A ride in the car."

She nodded silently, her cheeks now a deeper shade of red. A bit flustered, she stuttered, "Uh–" but then, meeting Sam's hazel eyes, she paused, took a deep breath, and regained her composure. "I'll be right back," she said before gently closing the door.

Dean left staring at the black door, perked up his ears as he heard her voice escalate inside, calling out, "Dad! The Winchesters are here!" After a brief silence, her voice rose again, more insistent this time, "DAD!"

Sam and Dean exchanged a look of surprise at the volume of her shout. The response came in the form of a deep, muffled reply from within. The door creaked open again, and the woman offered an awkward smile. "He'll be down so–"

Before she could finish, a tall, muscular man in plaid flannel pyjama pants and a simple grey t-shirt descended the stairs. He stood imposingly behind her, his voice deep and gravelly. "Mornin'," he greeted, eyeing the brothers. A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Definitely John's boys," he observed as he extended his hand.

Dean grasped his hand firmly. "Dean," he introduced himself with a nod.

Sam followed suit, shaking Rob's hand. "Sam. It's good to meet you."

Rob's genuine smile broadened. "Rob. Nice to finally meet you boys. John's told me a lot about you two."

In the midst of the heartfelt introductions, Rob's daughter slipped out under her father's arm, who was now holding the door open. He quickly turned his head to call after her, "Jay, boil the water. We're gonna need some coffee."

Rob then stepped aside, inviting them in. "C'mon in," he said, glancing once more at the street as the brothers entered. "Damn, is that John's Impala?" he asked, intrigued.

Dean turned back to Rob, a hint of pride in his voice. "Actually, she's mine now. Dad left her to me. She's got more history and miles on her than most cars on the road. Runs like a dream, though." His words were laced with respect and a touch of nostalgia for both the car and his father.

The boys followed the barefoot Rob Blackburn into his living room. The space was a testament to a life well-lived and richly layered, a striking balance between the modern and the memorabilia of yesteryear. They stepped through the wooden archway, and Dean's gaze swept the room—a harmony of contemporary and eclectic tastes.

The living room was bathed in morning sunlight from a large, bay window framing the greenery and wisteria blossoms outside, its grandeur contrasted by the cozy array of furniture. A plush, dark green sofa accented with earth-toned pillows invited comfort and long conversations. Across the room, a pair of vintage armchairs stood guard, their fabric hinting at a past era. The walls were lined with towering bookshelves, a ladder poised as if in mid-ascent, suggesting a world of knowledge and stories just out of reach. In the center, a stately wooden coffee table bore the weight of books and vases, while a Persian rug beneath whispered tales of ancient craftsmanship.

Above the mantel, a flat-screen TV was mounted, an anachronism amid the classical vibe. The mantle itself was a gallery of personal history, with frames marching across its length like milestones. Dean's eyes traced the journey of the dishevelled girl named Jay through frozen moments: school plays, graduations, and candid laughter.

One photograph, in particular, seized Dean's attention, squeezing his heart with the force of a long-forgotten song. There, captured in the stillness of time, was a young woman with auburn curls, her arm casually draped over a youthful Mary Winchester. Beside her, a younger Rob stood with an easy stance, and on the other side, John Winchester's smile reached out, as bright and as real as if he were standing in the room with them.

Dean found his voice, roughened by the swell of memory. "You've got quite the place here, Rob. Feels like a home that's seen a lot of good times," he said, his eyes not leaving the photograph.

Rob, following Dean's gaze, nodded with a touch of nostalgia. "Yeah, it's been through a lot. Every piece has a story, especially those photos," he said, his voice softening. "That one there," he pointed to the photograph that held Dean's gaze, "was from a summer BBQ we had right after John got back from a tour. Good times indeed, Dean.”

With a comforting pat on Dean's shoulder, Rob motioned towards the dark green sofa. "Please, take a seat," he said in a voice that carried the warmth of a seasoned host. Sam was already lounging there, looking every bit the part of a man ready to delve into matters of gravity and ghosts. Rob's towering presence moved towards one of the vintage armchairs, his movements measured and graceful. He sank into the chair with the ease of a man in his own sanctuary.

Dean observed Rob, taking in the rugged features that spoke of a life lived much like their father's—on the road, but always returning home. The man sitting across from him had a face that bore the marks of laughter and squinting against the sun, a generous beard that was well kept but suggested it could tell stories of its own. His hair, though tousled from sleep, had the hint of waves, and the light caught the flecks of gray that ran through it like silver threads in a tapestry. There was a certain comfort in his ruggedness, an unspoken kinship that Dean recognized well.

Rob caught Dean's gaze and chuckled, a sound that seemed to reverberate around the room. "My apologies, if I'd known Johnny's boys would be showing up on my doorstep, I'd have made myself presentable," he said, his fingers raking through his hair in a vain attempt to tame it.

Their conversation was paused as Jay quietly made her entrance, her arms full with an offering of steaming mugs. Dean's eyes followed her every step, noting the careful balance as she placed the coffee on the table with precision. The small, satisfied smile that danced across her lips made Dean's own lips twitch in response. But it vanished as quickly as it appeared, replaced by a look of comical frustration.

Jay stood with her hands on her hips, her eyes closed, speaking through gritted teeth. "I was so proud of not spilling coffee, I forgot people might want milk and sugar too."

Dean leaned forward, picked up one of the mugs, and met her frustrated gaze with a reassuring smile. "Don't sweat it, Jay. I take my coffee black as midnight on a moonless night," he said, the corners of his eyes crinkling with amusement. "It's the best way to kick-start the day, especially when there's work to be done." He took a sip, letting the rich bitterness of the coffee linger, a stark contrast to the gentle chaos of the morning.

Jay—no, Julia—looked momentarily taken aback, an unspoken question flickering in her eyes about Dean's use of her nickname. Before she could voice it, Rob intervened with a throaty chuckle that broke the brief silence. "Dean, Sam, if it wasn't already apparent, this spirited individual is my daughter Julia."

Julia's expression folded into a mix of amusement and mild embarrassment at her father's words. "Introductions must've slipped my mind earlier," Rob added, his eyes twinkling with paternal amusement.

With a graceful motion that seemed to betray her earlier fluster, Julia tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "Was a bit scattered, to be honest," she admitted as a soft hue painted her cheeks.

He offered her a warm, appreciative smile, and she, in turn, blushed a shade deeper, hastily picking up the one mug that held coffee lightened with milk. "Anyway, I'm—" she started, her voice trailing off as she backed away, thumbing in the direction of the staircase, "—going to get dressed."

With that, Julia turned, her retreat up the stairs as quick as it was quiet, leaving the conversation to hang in the warm, coffee-scented air of the living room.

The trio settled into an easy silence, the kind that speaks of understanding rather than discomfort. Eventually, Rob broke the stillness, setting his coffee cup down with a soft clink. "Not that I'm complaining about having John's boys over," he began, his voice even and curious, "but what brings you to my door?"

Sam, always the one to dive into the details, took the lead. "Well, Rob, from what we've pieced together with Bobby's input and clues from Dad's journal, it seems John was here in Boston not too long ago. He was helping you out with a wendigo situation," he explained. "You might have been one of the last people to see him. Now, Dean and I are crisscrossing the country, trying to track him down."

Dean, meanwhile, was only half-listening, his mind wandering as he sipped the robust black coffee. His thoughts were momentarily caught up with Julia—her surprising affinity for classic rock band shirts, her effortless command of the room, despite her earlier disarray. There was an allure there that Dean couldn't quite dismiss.

Realizing he needed to jump back into the conversation, he met Rob's gaze over the rim of his mug. "So, any chance Julia might know something that could help us out?" he asked, his voice casual but with an undercurrent of hope. It was a thinly veiled attempt to weave Julia back into their narrative—perhaps more for another encounter than actual investigative purposes.

Rob leaned back, a faint smile playing on his lips as he cradled his mug. "Julia? She wasn't really involved with the hunting side of things with John. She's the brains, does all the research," he began, but the strains of Led Zeppelin suddenly filled the room, filtering through the walls of Julia’s bedroom, in a muffled but unmistakable riff.

He laughed, a low, rich sound, and shook his head affectionately. "Yeah, she's a history major. She’s got her nose usually buried in old books. But she did dig into the Wendigo lore while John was around. Spent a few hours picking his brain, so it might be worth a shot to ask her," Rob conceded, acknowledging the potential value in speaking with his daughter once more.

As the sun arced higher in the sky outside the arch window, time seemed to fold in on itself within the Blackburn residence. The conversation ebbed and flowed naturally, the brothers and Rob exchanging tales and theories about the elusive Wendigo. Engrossed in the retelling, they barely noticed the passage of time until the Led Zeppelin anthem that had been humming in the background abruptly ceased. A hush fell over the house, and Dean couldn't help but cast a puzzled look towards Rob, who appeared unfazed by the sudden silence, continuing his story with the ease of a man accustomed to the unpredictable soundtrack of a busy household.

Dean's attention was drawn towards the hallway as a flash of red caught his eye—a pair of Converse sneakers, the unmistakable hallmark of a casual yet deliberate style. As Julia came into view, his gaze instinctively followed the line of her high-waisted jeans up to her neatly tucked-in white shirt. Gone was the disarray of the morning; in its place stood Julia, transformed. Her light auburn curls, now tamed and flowing gracefully down her back, framed a face of calm composure.

She paused in the archway, and for a moment, there was a silent exchange as Dean's eyes met hers—no longer sleepy, but sharp and full of life.

Rob, seizing the opportunity, looked up at his daughter with a mix of pride and practicality. "Perfect timing, Jay. Do you recall any of the details from when John helped out with the Wendigo case? I'd take a stab at finding the research in the office, but I still can't make heads or tails of your organization system."

Julia's lips pursed lightly, a subtle indication she was preparing to delve into her mental archives, but before she could articulate her thoughts, Rob interjected with decisiveness. "Great, I'll go get changed, and you can show the boys what you've got."

Julia nodded, a silent agreement to take the lead, and Dean couldn't help but feel a twinge of admiration for the way she navigated her father's expectations with grace. There was more to Julia than met the eye, and Dean was keen to uncover the depths of her knowledge—not just for the sake of their quest, but perhaps, for the simple pleasure of her company.

As Rob ascended the stairs, Julia began gathering the empty coffee mugs with an efficiency that spoke of routine. She gave Sam and Dean a quick, playful grin. "I'll just drop these off in the kitchen, then we can dive into the research. Hope you're ready for a bit of a deep dive," she said, her tone light but with an undercurrent of excitement about the task ahead. She turned on her heel, the cups clinking softly as she vanished down the hall.

Dean watched her go, an appreciative gleam in his eye. Sam, catching this all-too-familiar look, turned his entire body to face his brother, his expression a blend of warning and wisdom.

"Dean, I'm gonna say this once: tread carefully, man," Sam advised, leaning in slightly to emphasize his point.

Dean turned to his brother, feigning innocence. "What are you talking about, Sammy?"

Sam fixed Dean with a knowing look, the kind that only a lifetime of brotherhood could perfect. "Julia. I see that look in your eyes," he cautioned, his voice serious but not unkind.

A roguish smirk danced across Dean's face, his thoughts lingering on the spark he'd felt during their brief interactions. "Can't help it if there's a mutual spark. And come on, Sam—she's smart, she's into Zeppelin, and she's got that whole natural beauty thing going on. It's not just me," Dean defended with a casual shrug, trying to brush off the gravity of Sam's warning with his characteristic nonchalance.

Julia reemerged with a swift grace, pausing at the doorway, her demeanor alight with the thrill of sharing her world. The excitement seemed to emanate from her, an infectious energy that promised revelations and secrets held within her scholarly trove. As Sam and Dean stood, ready to be led into her realm of research, Sam's encouragement was both genuine and anticipatory.

"Rob mentioned you're quite the expert. Can't wait to see the treasures you've been working on," he said, his kind smile acknowledging her expertise.

Julia's response was tinged with humility and appreciation. "That's really nice of you to say," she replied, leading the way up the stairs with a lightness in her step that suggested she was as eager to share as they were to learn.

Reaching the second-floor landing, they were greeted by the impressive sight of a bookshelf that seemed to serve both as a doorway and a guardian of knowledge. Passing through the archway, both Winchesters couldn't help but pause, struck by the beauty of the room that unfolded before them.

They were surrounded by the warmth of aged wood and the silent stories of countless tomes. A built-in window seat nestled against a bay window offered a view of the soft purple wisteria blossoms framing the glass. The room was steeped in the warmth of vintage charm and the whispered stories of countless books. The walls are lined with towering shelves, crafted from dark, polished wood that gleams under the soft golden hue of strategically placed lamps. Each shelf is a testament to a bibliophile's passion, densely packed with books of varying sizes, their spines creating a colourful mosaic that speaks to years of collection and care.

In one corner, a plush armchair sits invitingly, upholstered in a rich, patterned fabric that echoes the bygone era of Victorian elegance. Next to it, a small table holds a crystal decanter of amber liquid and matching glasses, alongside a pile of well-thumbed novels, suggesting a perfect nook for sipping and reading. The heavy curtains pulled back from a large window allow the gentle light to filter in, casting a serene glow over the scene.

Despite the room's orderly foundations, there's a deliberate messiness to it that adds character. Stacks of books and papers teeter precariously on every available surface, including the floor, where a worn Persian rug lays as a testament to the many hours spent lost in literature. The desk is a landscape of creative chaos, with open books, notes scribbled on loose papers, and a vintage typewriter pushed to one side to make room for a modern laptop, showing the blend of old and new.

Unique artifacts are nestled among the books: a vintage globe, a brass telescope, and curious trinkets like skulls and antique scissors, each with its own untold backstory. The space is a sanctuary of knowledge, history, and personal quirks, inviting you to explore its depths, both literary and personal.

As Julia completed a graceful pirouette, her arms outstretched to present the room, her eyes met theirs with a spark of shared understanding. "This is where the magic happens," she declared, her smile as genuine as the passion that clearly fueled her pursuit of knowledge. The invitation was clear, and the Winchesters stepped into her world, ready to be enchanted by the magic of her making.

The effervescent joy Julia exuded was infectious, and Dean found himself basking in a reflected glow of happiness as he watched her navigate the room. He leaned against the doorway, observing her as she gathered an armful of papers and books, her movements a dance of efficiency amid the charming chaos. With a deft hand, she rehomed the collected clutter atop another table already brimming with the weight of research.

"Here," she sang out, her voice carrying the lightness of a melody, as she flitted from one end of the room to the other, her presence transforming the space into something ethereal. She was like a sprite in her own domain, orchestrating the energy of the room with every sweep of her arm.

Sam and Dean approached the cleared chairs with a hint of hesitation, not wanting to disturb the artful disorder of her workspace. They settled into the seats, and Julia paused in her bustling, resting a hand on the back of Dean's chair. For a moment, she stood still, lost in thought, and Dean found himself enveloped in the subtle scent that clung to her—pistachio, perhaps, and something sweetly salted, like caramel. It was warm and inviting, and his heart thrummed a little faster in his chest as he struggled to maintain his composure.

Julia's contemplative silence broke, and she turned her gaze to meet Sam's, her expression earnest. "I have a lot of material on the Wendigo—notes, theories, patterns. John had me assist him with something else, too," she confided, her voice lowering to a conspiratorial whisper. "But before I share anything, you have to promise not to tell my dad. He tends to be... overly protective about certain things."

Her eyes lingered on Sam, seeking an assurance of confidentiality, an unspoken pact between them. Dean felt a tug of curiosity, an eagerness to delve into the knowledge she held, and he nodded in silent agreement, keenly aware of the trust she was placing in their hands.

Sam met Julia's earnest gaze, understanding the gravity of her request. He nodded, a silent promise etched into the gesture. "You have our word, Julia. Whatever you share with us stays between us," Sam assured her, his tone underscored with the seriousness of a sworn oath.

Dean, who had been momentarily caught in the sensory spell of Julia's presence, now anchored himself in the moment, the importance of her trust not lost on him. He leaned forward slightly, his eyes locking with hers, reinforcing the vow. "We've kept secrets bigger than a bunker," he said, a soft, conspiratorial edge to his voice. "Your research is safe with us."

Julia, seemingly satisfied with their assurance, pulled a deep breath before she began, her eyes momentarily flitting to the ceiling as if gathering the threads of her thoughts. "Okay," she started, her voice now a hushed whisper, "John and I were looking into some lore—old, obscure stuff, not just your run-of-the-mill monster tales. It's about something much older, something he was tracking long before the Wendigo."

The room seemed to hold its breath as Julia spoke, the brothers leaning in, captivated by the prelude to secrets yet untold. The promise they had made bound them to this space, to the words that were about to unfold, weaving them into the fabric of Julia's clandestine work.

With the silence of one well-versed in the quietude of libraries, Julia drifted towards the bay window, her figure briefly silhouetted against the gentle light. She took a swift left into a nook, where a ceiling-high cupboard was nestled like a secret chamber within the room. Sam and Dean sat in anticipation, their ears tuned to the soft hum of her tune, punctuated by the rustle of papers as she rummaged within the cupboard's depths.

The cupboard doors clicked shut, and Julia returned to the table, her arms wrapped around a thick brown accordion folder that seemed to challenge her with its heft. With careful steps, she approached, placing the folder on the table before sliding into the last remaining chair—inevitably, the one next to Dean.

As she scooted her chair in, the proximity brought a subtle contact; her knee brushed against Dean's, a fleeting touch that sent a heightened awareness coursing through him. Julia opened the folder with a sense of ceremony, unleashing a cascade of notebooks and papers, each leaf carrying the weight of diligent inquiry.

Sam immediately delved into one of the notebooks, his eyes scanning the bubbly script and the stark sketches that accompanied the text. Dean, however, remained focused on Julia, his curiosity piqued not just by the research but by the researcher herself.

"So, what was it my dad had you digging into?" Dean inquired, his voice low and earnest, inviting confidence.

Julia's gaze lifted to meet his, a current of intensity passing between them. "A demon," she began, her voice barely above a murmur, as if the very word might invoke the creature's attention. Her eyes flicked to Sam's, ensuring she had both brothers' undivided attention, before she continued, "The Yellow-Eyed Demon."

To be continued . . .

Chapter Two

#supernatural #dean winchester #sam and dean #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean x reader #spn #dean winchester x female!reader #dean winchester x oc #dean winchester fanfiction #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural imagine #sam winchester #supernatural fic #supernatural season 1 #dean winchester imagine

62 notes · View notes

kamaluhkhan · 10 months

Text

maybe it's my fault

pairing: shuri x fem!reader

summary: lately, you've been feeling a ton of pressure, you're way too busy, and you're barely sleeping. life is taking its toll on you, but you drop everything to be with shuri when she needs you most.

warnings: angst! mention of illness and death (t'challa's, mostly). reader has a bit of a saviour complex. lots of plot w/ a little smut ;)

author's note: hi hi it's been too long since i've written a fic, but i just rewatched black panther so i decided to finish one of my drafts. this could be read as a part 3 to my other shuri fics, but it's wayyy more angsty than i usually write. also happy endings.....we don't know her! you've been warned.

you were in the kitchen, chopping up fruit for a smoothie, while sam and bucky were watching the news in the living room. you could only hear muffled sounds from the tv thanks to the lecture you were rewatching through your earphones, hyperfocused on absorbing as much information about genetic coding — the topic of your last exam before spring break — so it was easy to miss sam calling your name until he was practically shouting. you finally removed one earbud.

"yeah?"

“when's the last time you heard from your girlfriend?"

"i don't know," you answered, still mostly focused on your professor droning on about complex protein structures while you kept cutting up strawberries — and tried to keep your eyes open. you probably hadn't slept in 36 hours. "we've both been busy. why?"

there was no immediate answer, which you didn’t think much of until you looked up and saw what they were watching. in shock, you accidently let the knife slip, and it nicked your thumb instead of the fruit.

"fuck."

blood dripped from your hand, but your eyes stayed glued to the screen.

KING T’CHALLA, RULER OF WAKANDA, DEAD FROM UNKNOWN ILLNESS. COUNTRY IN PERIOD OF MOURNING.

you could tell from the way bucky and sam were silent that they were also overwhelmed with the news. t’challa was an avenger, a teammate — but he was also a friend. he was compassionate and wise and always made you feel welcomed, even when some of the elders disapproved of shuri dating an outsider. this hurt you, deeply, especially after losing so much of the team in the battle with thanos. but none of that mattered — all you could think about now was shuri….

you instantly pulled out your phone, and tried to call her.

it’s shuri. i’m probably designing better technology, so i’ll call you back with that.

you then tried the kimoyo beads on your wrist, but still no answer.

“i have to go.”

sam nodded. “just let me look after your hand first —”

“i’ll deal with it on the quinjet.” you ran to your room down the hall, and grabbed your overnight bag (thank Gods you hadn’t unpacked yet, even though you’d decided to stay over at Avengers tower this week). “i just finished fixing up the old one, so i’ll take that and you guys can still use the new one for your mission tomorrow. if i leave now, i’ll get to wakanda by morning.” or maybe midnight. or afternoon? there was also a time difference that you couldn’t quite remember. “i’ll call peter on the way, let him know what happened. can you tell the others?” whoever is left, you thought to yourself.

again, sam nodded. bucky mumbled a simple take care as you start to leave for the quinjet.

sam called your name, so you turned around before a few tears could escape. he brought you into a hug. you couldn’t help but stiffen, a reflex because of so many i’m sorry for your loss hugs you’d gotten used to. when sam pulled away, he put his hand on her shoulder, eyes sincere but sad. “it’s gonna be alright, kid.”

you really wanted to believe him.

shuri’s lab was all too familiar to you. there was something perpetually alive about the space: always people talking, inventions being brought to life, loud music blasting.

but, right now, it was silent. only shuri was there, designing something on the holograms and taking notes.

you hear her A.I. griot announce that someone had arrived, but shuri doesn't seem to care.

“i told you i did not want to be disturbed,” shuri grumbled.

“he made an exception,” you replied, trying to keep your tone playful.

shuri didn’t say anything and kept working. “did my mother call you?” she finally asked. “i told her not to.”

you moved closer to shuri’s workspace until you were right next to her, leaning backwards against the desk but keeping your eyes on shuri and trying to pull her attention away from whatever she was working on — a suit, you guessed.

“she didn't call me. i came as soon as i heard,” you answered, crossing you arms. “but i did talk to her and she seemed…worried.”

“there’s no need to be,” shuri said. “i’m fine. we had the funeral — it happened, it’s over.”

you uncrossed your arms, sighing deeply. “you know, your brother once told me that in wakandan culture, death isn’t the end. it’s a stepping off point. then, he told me that he believed, even if they’re gone from the physical world, the people we love never leave us. their lives aren’t over if we honor them, keep loving them.”

t'challa's thoughtfulness helped you after losing tony and steve, and it was something you wished you had heard earlier in life. something that gave you hope, made you feel a bit lighter when it felt like the weight of the world was crushing you.

but, hearing this prompted shuri to freeze momentarily, though she couldn’t bring herself to look you in the eye.

"i am not my brother.” she went back to working after that.

for a moment, you simply watched your girlfriend work. shuri’s hair was different — braids gone and shorter than the last time you had seen her. her jawline was also sharper and her eyes a bit more sunken, like she hadn’t slept or eaten in days.

when it became clear that shuri wasn’t going to stop, you turned around and focused your attention to the holograms she was juggling. it wasn’t a panther suit, but what looked like a deconstructed dora milaje armor that shuri was redesigning.

“you want this to fly?” you noted the thrusters placed on the feet of the suit.

shuri glanced at you briefly before enlarging the section in question. “yes.”

you hummed, reaching over to zoom out to a full view of the suit. “if you add small repulsors, the wearer will have more control over how and where they fly.”

“i was going to add something like that to the back.”

“i’d suggest the shoulders,” you said, tilting your head. “small, triangle shaped — kind of like angel wings. also, if you add reinforced plating to the shoulders and arms, you can redistribute the extra vibranium through the repulsor energy so the wearer can materialize a blade or a laser.”

“brilliant,” shuri mumbled under her breath.

you nudged shuri with your shoulder. “you would have figured it out eventually.”

“i know.” shuri leaned into you, a sign that she was softening. “that’s why it’s brilliant. i wish it'd thought of it sooner." she whispered the last part. there was a faraway sadness to her tone that made your heart ache.

you turned to face shuri, and gently put your hand on her cheek so she met your gaze.

"i think it's a sign that your beautiful brain needs some rest, baby." you knew what shuri was like, and based on your conversation with queen ramonda, shuri had locked herself in the lab for days.

shuri sighed, moving to kiss your palm before realizing the state it was in — freshly wrapped in a thin layer of gauze that you had bled through.

“what happened to your hand?” she questioned urgently.

“oh. nothing serious. just a slip of the knife.”

wordlessly, shuri brought you over to the medical bay and gestured for you to sit down on the table. you did, and shuri settled between your legs, using vibranium to heal your cut.

"shuri," you called after a few moments of silence, leaning your head down slightly to try and catch her eye. "you know i'm here for you, right?"

"i know." she finished cleaning the wound and wrapped your hand in a fresh vibranium-woven bandage. you wanted so badly to do the same — to wrap up shuri's grief, to protect her from pain, to help her heal.

"i mean that you don't have to, i don't know, act like everything is fine. we can talk about what happened — we can talk about t'challa."

"i know," she repeated, eyes finally meeting yours as she rested her hand on your knee. "i just....i can't. it's either i shut myself in the lab for hours or i think about my brother and want to burn the world down. and i can't...." shuri choked back a sob and her grip on your knee tightened.

you brought your hand up to her cheek, gently tracing the dark circles under her eyes with your thumb.

"well, what if we try another option?"

you spent the next few days in wakanda with shuri, ignoring your responsibilities in new york. most of the time was spent lazing around the royal palace, but with you shuri at least got enough sleep and food, even if you barely left her room at first. eventually, the two of you actually ate in the formal dining room. you could have sworn queen ramonda teared up when her daughter showed up again to share a meal since t'challa's passing. queen ramonda gave you a warm smile before the feast was served.

as you were walking back to shuri's room, stomachs full from a delicious dinner, your phone vibrated. you checked to see who it was: peter, texting to remind you of a lab assignment you had slipped your mind.

"oh shit," you groaned.

"what is it?"

"an assignment for my genetics class that i completely forgot about," you explained, rushing to open your laptop, which you'd left on shuri's nightstand after the two of you binged a few episodes of star trek (the original series). "one of our lab partners fucked up the results, so pete and i had to sort things out, but we've both been so busy...."

your phone vibrated once more, this time displaying an incoming call from jimmy neutron, your affectionate contact name for peter parker.

"i should take this."

shuri nodded. "let me help, yeah?"

considering how brilliant shuri was, you offered her your laptop without question. you paced back and forth, talking with peter over whether or not failing this assignment would mean you both failed the class, until shuri's voice cut through your conversation.

"why do you have a file with my brother's dna?"

you know exactly the file she was talking about, and it made you stop in your tracks to face shuri. you thought you were being too careful when you didn't attach his name to the file — but, apparently, you weren't careful enough.

shuri was sitting upright on the bed now, practically glaring at you as she waited for your answer. you tried to ignore your increasing heart-rate.

"pete, i have to go." you could hear him start to protest on the other end of the line, but you quickly ended the call. "well, we keep blood samples from every team member in case something happens."

hopefully your answer satisfied shuri.

it didn't.

"this isn't with your avengers files, though," shuri pointed out. you tried to grab the laptop back from her, but she moved it out of your reach. "and even if it was, you would have noticed something wrong."

"shuri," you warned, finding it harder to not let your voice waver.

"did you know my brother was sick?" her tone was harsher than before.

"shuri —"

"the samples show abnormal cell growth at an earlier stage than when i was working on a cure for him," shuri noted, turning the laptop screen towards you. like you, she must have spent hours looking at t'challa's dna to the point of memorizing its sequence. "so either you didn't notice that something was wrong, and we both know you're too smart enough to miss something that obvious, or — "

"shuri." this time, when you said her name, it was less of a warning and more of a plea. you did not want to go down this road. frankly, you were hoping you never had to.

"you knew my brother was sick and didn't tell me," she finished. shuri handed you the laptop and you closed it slowly, watching as she walked to the other side of the room before facing you again. "tell me that isn't true."

all you could do was bite back tears and hope the floor swallowed you whole. when it didn't, you took a deep breath and stood up.

"i can explain." you approached her, but she took a step away from you and scoffed.

"what's there to explain?"

"just....please." you walked back to the bed and took a seat. "let me explain."

t'challa intercepted you at your favourite coffee shop about four weeks ago.

it was march in new york, so hints of spring were starting to peak through the winter snow. you had back to back classes, but you always had time for a coffee in between.

the cold air hit you as you exited the shop, a drink warming your hand. you noticed him standing there: no dora milaje, no fancy suit, just t'challa. he wore sunglasses and a sleek black trench coat with a purple scarf, his silver necklace peaking out from the collar.

"t'challa?" you called, almost doing a double take. the two of you were friends, sure, and probably future in-laws, but the image of him waiting for you outside a student-run cafe felt too out of the ordinary. "is everything okay?"

he smiled softly, taking off his sunglasses. "of course," he said. then, t'challa did something that surprised you even more: he greeted you with a hug. as he pulled away, he added: "just in town and thought we could catch up. shuri said this was your favourite place for cinnamon lattes."

you shrugged. "my girl knows me well. could we catch up later, though? i have a class in...." you glanced at your phone. "right now, actually." you looked back up at t'challa, and something about how his smile faded away made you feel like this was more important. "you know what, i can get notes later. come on."

t'challa followed you to a bench nearby, scanning the area as you made the short walk. the two of you sat in silence for a few moments before you broke it.

"so, is everything okay?" you asked again, taking a sip of your drink.

"actually, no." he paused, voice low. you waited for him to continue, your heart beating fast as you tried not to expect the worst. "i'm sick, y/n."

"you're sick," you repeated slowly, letting the words sink in. "i'm....i'm sorry." you reached over and squeezed t'challa's hand. he gave you a sad smile in return. that was the thing about t'challa: he was always trying to put on a brave face.

"i need you to help me find a cure."

"of course," you answered instantly. you loved t'challa like he was family; you would do anything for him. but, something felt a bit strange about his request. "why not go to wakanda, though? i mean, i'd be happy to help, but the technology there is way more advanced than anything i could do in new york. shuri's lab has all the resources we would need."

t'challa shifted in his seat, breaking eye contact.

then, it hit you. the impromptu meeting, the uneasiness of t'challa's demeanor, the whispers as he explained the situation.

"she doesn't know, does she?"

t'challa shook his head. "she doesn't even know i'm in new york."

suddenly, you throat tightened and it felt difficult to swallow your coffee.

"am i the only one that knows?"

"you and nakia," he said. "i'd like for it to stay that way."

"but — but it's shuri. you're her brother and — and she can help us find a cure."

"so can you," t'challa countered. compared to your nervous stuttering, he kept his voice clear, measured. "you're studying biochemistry and cellular biology, correct? top of your class? my sister says you are almost as brilliant as her."

"almost," you laughed, allowing yourself a moment of reprieve before returning to your conversation. "t'challa, why not just tell her?"

t'challa reflected before responding, his eyes following a couple holding hand as they walked past you.

"my sister is happy," he finally said, turning to you. "i wish for her to stay like that for as long as possible. i believe this is the only way."

it broke your heart to know that, even as he was suffering, t'challa would do anything to protect shuri. you both knew what shuri was like: she would drop everything, go back to wakanda, spend many sleepless nights trying to solve this problem, to save her brother.

"are you sure?" you practically whispered the question.

"yes. i trust you can take care of this. in fact, i know you can. please, y/n."

his urgent tone, the sincerity in his eyes; t'challa was desperate, you could tell. this wasn't a decision he made lightly, to keep such information from everyone, including shuri. if you were the one he came to for help, help you would.

so, you promised keep his secret, to handle it yourself and carry on as normal. t'challa would return to his normal duties as king for as long as he could hide his illness. but, you set a term as well: if you couldn't find a cure within two weeks, when shuri went back to visit wakanda at the end of the month, t'challa would tell her and let her work to find a cure.

"one more thing," t'challa said after you had discussed your agreement. you were about to part ways, but you turned around when you heard him speak again. "shuri can never know that i came to you first. she's proud, my sister. if she finds out, she'd never forgive either of us."

you nodded firmly, but as t'challa turned to walk away, you called his name once more. you ran towards him and hugged him, tight. it startled him at first, just as you were when he greeted you, but he hugged back.

if you knew that was the last time you'd see him, you'd have held on longer.

over the next week or so, you worked relentlessly. you would've worked at the lab in avengers tower, but you knew you had more privacy at oscorp. occasionally, you went to class or had avengers business to take care of, but otherwise this was your life: rearranging dna sequences, examining blood samples, and mixing chemicals to try and find a cure for t'challa.

you came home one night, after hours in the lab. your only break was a brief stint stopping doc ock from robbing a bank. she'd managed to throw you around pretty hard — sleep deprivation made you an easier target, apparently — leaving you with a nasty bruise on your side. peter arrived to the scene just in time, and suggested the two of you celebrate with sandwiches as delmar's (where spider-man got a discount), but you made up an excuse so that you could return to the lab.

the apartment was dark when you entered, with only the kitchen light on, so you figured you were the only one home. you dragged yourself over to the sink to get a cup of water. you drank it in three gulps, and were reaching for another when you felt someone grab your side.

"fuck!" the cup fell from your grasp as you winced in pain. you turned around, too tired to even wonder if there was an intruder in your home, but met shuri's gaze instead. she was wearing boxer shorts and an oversized i ♡ wakanda shirt she'd gotten for you as a joke.

"shit. sorry." she knelt down to pick up the broken glass. you tried to follow, but winced again at the sharp pain in your side that prevented you from bending over. "don't worry. i've got it," she reassured, standing back up. "you've been busy lately. and pete told me about the fight with doc ock. you should rest."

you ignored her last comment. "i thought you were coming home late tonight."

shuri raised an eyebrow. "i'd say it's well past late." she gestured towards the clock on the stove. it read 2:27 am.

"right." between hours in the lab, with no cure in sight, and being thrown around by a scientist with metal tentacles, you were exhausted. it was the kind of exhaustion that settled into your bones, made everything feel heavier. not to mention the weight of the very big, life changing secret you were keeping from shuri....yeah, you weren't particularly in the mood to chat with your girlfriend in a dimly lit kitchen with broken glass at your feet.

before shuri could ask more about your day, you excused yourself to take a shower. you closed the bathroom door behind you, stripped yourself of your clothes, and hopped in the shower. you stood there for a few seconds, letting the warm water wash over you, until you were startled by the shower curtain opening.

"sithandwa, are you okay?"

"other than the minor heart attack you just gave me, yeah," you huffed.

shuri tilted her head and narrowed her eyes. "are you sure?"

"i'm fine," you snapped. noticing how shuri's eyes widened slightly at your outburst, you tried again, your voice softer. "i'm fine."

you lifted your arm to close the shower curtain, but let out a strangled moan when the sharp pain in your side returned. shuri furrowed her brow at your reaction, until her eyes landed on the dark bruise forming under your left ribs. instantly, shuri joined you in the shower, fully clothed.

"you're not fine," shuri decided, placing her hand gently on your skin. "why didn't you go back to the med bay to have this taken care of?"

peter asked you the same thing when you parted ways earlier, but it was easier then to shrug off the severity of your injury. besides, you had to finish up some work at the lab. but here you were in front of shuri, completely exposed, no where to run.

"i...didn't have time. you can scold me later, okay? right now, i just want to relax."

you exhaled as shuri's fingers grazed your skin. with how preoccupied you had been — along with the guilt at hiding t'challa's illness from her — you and shuri hadn't been intimate in what felt like forever. it felt good to be close to her, for her to touch you again.

by then, shuri's clothes were soaked through, the white fabric of her shirt clinging to her skin, transparent enough to reveal her dark nipples underneath. you couldn't help but stare.

"like what you see?" shuri smirked. her fingers started trailing south, reaching your hips.

this made you roll your eyes, and you just had to smile at how cheeky your girlfriend was being.

"you know i do, pretty girl."

"hm. you said you wanted to relax?"

you nodded, and not even a second later shuri had her body pressed against yours. it sent a shiver through you, despite the warm water from the shower. she brought a tattoed hand up to your face, craddling your jaw.

"then relax," shuri whispered. she started placing kisses up your neck, and when she reached just below your ear, she added: "let me take care of you."

shuri gently pushed you against the wall, the ceramic tiles cool on your back. to your annoyance, she took her sweet time leaving kisses down your body.

"shuri," you whined when you felt her teeth graze one nipple while she pinched the other between her fingers.

"what is it, my love?" shuri pulled away from your chest. you knew she loved teasing you - something you mostly loved to hate. sex with shuri sometimes took hours: it was slow, deliberate, accompanied by an orchestra of laughter and moans and pleading (lots of pleading).

this time, though, she didn't even give you time to beg. shuri simply got on her knees in front of you. she briefly ran her tongue through your folds before tilting her head back to meet your gaze. "is this what you wanted?" shuri smirked when you moaned as she slid a finger into your cunt.

the shower went cold by the time you two were done.

you started drying off, carefully as to not further your injury. shuri left to put on fresh, dry clothes, leaving the ones she had soaked through in a wet heap on the floor. you were just slipping on your underwear when shuri returned, catching your eye in the mirror.

"what?" you chuckled at how coy she was being, hands behind her back as she rocked back and forth on her heels.

"i have a surprise for you," shuri sang. she moved from the doorway to standing behind you, the two of you looking at the mirror. "close your eyes." you complied and felt a coolness surround your neck. shuri placed a kiss on your jaw, which made you smile. "open them."

you were met with the sight of yourself, top half completely bare except for a deep purple pendant around your neck.

"do you like it?" shuri gently wrapped her arms around your waist, eyes never leaving your body in the mirror, and you allowed yourself to melt into her. "it reminded me of the sky on our first date, and how beautiful you looked." she reached a hand up to trace the silver chain. "i was thinking i'd remake this with vibranium, maybe make it so the necklace holds your suit like t'challa's. you'll have to wait until i get back to wakanda to make the upgrade, of course."

at the mention of her brother and her home country, you stiffened.

"shuri." you exhaled and you turned to face her. "are you sure that you don't want to go back to wakanda sooner?"

shuri tilted her head. "why would i do that?"

"i don't know. more time with your family...."

"i've spent my whole life with them," shuri countered. "i'm moving to new york so that we can start our life together."

"i didn't ask you to do that — "

"don't push me away, okay?" she interrupted, wrapping her arms around your waist once more as though they would keep you in place forever. "you've been doing that lately, and i know you're busy, we both are. but, life is crazy and scary and unpredictable, and all i know for sure is that i love you. and i need you."

you wished you could return her words, as you have many times before, but the sentiment now felt empty.

it felt wrong for you to let shuri love you passionately, when you were being so careless with her heart.

you tried to shake away that feeling, telling yourself that keeping t'challa's secret was the best situation to keep him healthy and shuri happy - to protect both of them from any pain or suffering.

you told yourself that enough times, you almost believed it was true.

shuri looked at you now, and for the first time, you felt the heat of her anger targeted towards you.

"how long? how long did you know my brother was dying and let me believe everything was okay? how long did you lie to me?"

you took a ragged breath. "two weeks."

"two weeks?" shuri shouted. "i couldn't save him because i didn't have enough time to find a cure. you took that from me."

"i spent that time trying to find a cure, but....but i wanted to protect you, at least for a little while."

"no one asked you to protect me!"

internally, you kept replaying what t'challa had said: he wanted shuri to be happy, yes, but she could never know that he came to you himself and told you he was sick weeks before he told her. you wanted to honor the promise you made him, even as you now felt shuri slipping through your fingers.

you were never a quitter, though. it was your best — and possibly most self-destructive — trait. you tried to approach shuri, to grab her hand, but the second you made contact, she jolted away.

"my brother is dead because of you."

her words felt like a knife. you felt dizzy — there was no way to stop the bleeding, so you sat back down on the bed to ground yourself.

"i....i tried to save him," you defended. "after i first found out, i tried to find a cure myself."

shuri scoffed, shaking her head and narrowing her eyes at you. "you just had to be the hero, didn't you? running around, wanting to save everyone. like you're the only one who can."

"i really tried," you choked. by now, you were holding back tears, feeling your head start to ache. you started massaging you temple to relieve some pressure, but it didn't work.

"and what kind of sick game are you playing, coming here pretending to be supportive? you're just feeling guilty."

guilty was definitely something you felt, but it wasn't why you came here.

you got back up and tried to approach shuri one more time, walking over to her slowly.

"i came here because i love you, shuri." your voice was softer than it had been before. "i loved t'challa, too -"

"don't you dare say his name," she growled, once again moving away from you briskly. "and i don't care if you love me, because i can never look at you the same way. we're done."

hands by your side, staring at shuri from the opposite side of the room, you almost couldn't process what she had said. she repeated her last sentence, this time a bit louder, and you shook your head as though to wake yourself up.

"shuri, please, don't do this. we're both in pain — "

"you have no idea the pain i'm in," shuri interrupted, and you noticed how she choked back a sob. "you can stop trying to be a hero for me. i don't want you. i don't need you." she paused. "not anymore."

to prove her point, shuri finally approached you. she tugged your necklace — the one she had so lovingly given you — hard enough for the clasp to break.

both of you were startled by the severity of her actions, how final it all felt. shuri looked, almost regretfully, at the purple pendant in her hand, but never met your gaze. she then turned away from you, the room settling into an uncomfortable silence as she waited for you to leave.

and you did, a few moments later.

#shuri x reader #shuri udaku #shuri x you #shuri imagine #shuri angst #black panther wakanda forever #wakanda forever #shuri fic #shuri smut #princess shuri #shuri #Spotify #saf writes #black panther: wakanda forever #black panther #marvel fanfiction #black panther fanfiction #shuri fanfiction

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margareth-lv · 3 months

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🕸️ Weaving stories. Spinning tales 🕸️

There is something magical about weaving a story together. I'm deeply convinced that a community is built from a story that many people add their pieces to. So in the good tradition of a shared storytelling I would like to continue in the direction that that @sgiandubh set out in her post last Saturday.

*** *** *** I have always been baffled by the bizarre version of reality that is imposed in CaitOnly World, in which Caitríona, her Shy 'Husband' and their «Blonde Bambino» supposedly live. In CaitOnly World Santa Caitríona da Monaghan plays her own version of the efficient housewife à rebours. It's as if she's been brought back to life from the 50s, from the days of «The Occupation: Housewife», with Mr McShy, of course, as the housewife who treats his 'wife' like a goddess (even though he doesn't) and looks after their «Blonde Bambino».

Side Note: Maybe it's because being CaitOnly is like believing. It is a statement of faith. It has nothing to do with reality or what we might know about Caitríon's life. With all sorts of caveats and disclaimers, of course.

*** *** ***

Now there's another 'scandal' about Sam's 'numerous travels' and an absolute inability to reconcile these travels with a family life (I've only been here a short time and I've seen the same 'shock' a few times already).

Meanwhile, all these defenders of Caitríona's ‘connubial bliss’ and those who shout loudly that Sam would be the worst dad in the world (fortunately he's not a dad in the CaitOnly World), travelling around the world as he does, so all these wise women of the CaitOnly World don't even bother to listen to Caitríona herself.

I, on the other hand, fortunately have notes, screen shots and the memory of an old female elephant. *** *** *** Remember the "nomadic life"?

Once upon a time, we had a nice fandom legend about Caitríona mentioning her husband a lot, but never saying his name (because she couldn't pronounce 'husband' and 'Tony' in the same sentence). And as what is written about in fandom is usually reflected in Caitríona's PR, the Wall Street Journal published this long-awaited gem on 16 November 2021, during the infamous 'Balfast' promotion, of course:

The article itself is behind a paywall, so you'll have to take my word for it. This is an actual screenshot.

But let's skip the 'husband'-comma-'Tony' sequence. Let's concentrate on the hippie 'nomadic life'.

Because a nomadic life with the Blonde Bambino is obviously nonsense to anyone who can count. The baby was supposedly born in August 2021. Outlander season 6 wrapped in May/June 2021. If the Blonde Bambino was travelling between Glasgow (where the series was filmed) and London (where he lives), it couldn't have been the Blonde Bambino born in August 2021. But who can do the maths these days?

*** *** *** Anyway, mentioning Caitríona Balfe's hippy 'nomadic life' sent the internet buzzing in Autumn 2021. Suddenly everyone was describing her travels with husband, child and possessions (how far away from the image of Caitríona in a 1950s-style kitchen apron). One small example - the article is not behind the paywall - published by the Daily Express.

Admittedly, this article, like most articles about our two lovebirds, is a strange mixture of fact and manipulation. But let's focus on the interesting content.

Beneath a screenshot of an IG photo of Sam and the blonde bambino`s hands lying on a striped sheet, the article read:

She wrote: "Today, my husband, Tony, and I and our son are slightly nomadic. "We split our time between Glasgow and London. “When I’m working on Outlander, we're in Glasgow."

Admittedly, it's impossible to know where Caitriona 'wrote' the above (as it's certainly not on her Instagram account, I'm guessing the author apparently had trouble quoting the Wall Street Journal directly, which is a shame). But let's not get hung up on irrelevant details. Surely the hippie dimension of the "nomadic life" was important to Caitríona's PR in some way (the message: I'm not a boring wife to a boring man, I travel the world, even with a newborn, I'm an artist, I'm a hippy!).

So much important, in fact, that an article in The Guardian on January 23, 2022, after the tour's composition had been corrected (by how logically the newborn had been omitted), added Los Angeles to the "nomadic existence" between London and Glasgow.

And Villa No Ego, I think.

*** *** ***

Bottom line: everyone, everyone listen:

Caitríona travels. With her husband. With a child (well, with children). With clothes, with blankets, with baby's cutlery. With toys. With a suitcase full of shoes. With warm clothes and a child's bicycle. She leads what she calls a "nomadic life". London, Glasgow, Los Angeles. New York. Et caetera.

This seems to fit in quite well with the kind of lifestyle that Sam lets the fandom know about from time to time, doesn't it? Doesn't it seem to make their lives consistent?

Quod erat demonstrandum. Which was to be proved.

Thank you for your attention. It was a long text.

😅

[February 8, 2024]

84 notes · View notes

laylasmoonchild · 1 year

Text

“Are You Okay?”

Sam Kiszka × Reader NSFW 18+

Author's Note:

I have no idea what l'm doing or what possessed me to write this... That's partially a lie- There's no Sam Fics out there, and this is compiled of some requests l've had/Requests l've seen on other blogs. This is loosely inspired by Daisy Jones & The Six (The Amazon series, not the book, the book was better though hehe), Basically when Camilla was seeking out attention during a rough patch with Billy. I'm Layla, let me know what ya think, or don't. Just be nice! Sorry if there's typos, this took me hours to write on 2 separate nights, l'm not an amazing writer, just out here trying new things!

Summary:

Sammy's girlfriend (Y/N) is under the impression he is cheating on her and not only gets drunk to mask her feelings, but seeks comfort in Jake... Yup, it's messy, folks. Also, there's sex, read the warnings!

WARNINGS:

Angst, Topics of Cheating, Arguing W/ a S.O., NSFW, Sex, Spit Kink (this is a common request on Sammy blogs, if you're not into it, close your eyes or keep it pushing! my page is a no judge zone!), Unprotected Sex (Wrap it up, or don't, it’s not my business… prob wrap it up though.)

Word Count: 7,149

——————————————————————————

I was looking out the window of the plane that was taking me to God knows where. All I knew was that I was on my way to the love of my life.

Sam’s been on tour for a few months, and honestly, I’ve been starting to feel a distance. I’m assuming it’s more on my end, I’m working a high stress job while trying to make my art my main one. Sam’s understanding of it and I think it’s time I show him just how much I appreciate that of him.

As the plane is landing, I start to write out a text to Jake, who’s going through a major rough patch with his girlfriend. Sam mentioned they were on a break, but I won’t pry, I just want to tell him to let Sam know that I’ll be at the hotel in about an hour…

“Hey! Could you let Sam know I decided on taking an uber? I think his phone’s dead, I’ll be at the hotel in an hour!”

“I haven’t seen him since last night, but I’m sure I’ll run into him, be careful, sweet girl…♥️”

Sweet girl… Jake’s nickname for me since we first met… He always said I was too sweet for Sam.

As I gathered my bags from baggage claim and made my way outside to my Uber, I started thinking about how Jake mentioned he hasn’t seen Sam since last night… I never think about Sam’s whereabouts, I know most girls would be itching to know what their traveling, rockstar boyfriend was up to, but he’s never given me an inkling of a feeling that the rumors about guys on the road and his past were true. And I was far too busy career wise to think into those thoughts.

But I’d be lying if I said the reason I was tapping my foot in the backseat of this Uber wasn’t because I was starting to believe it.

————————————————————————

I got the keycard from concierge and made my way to Sam’s room. For some reason, I couldn’t stop thinking that the distance I’ve noticed wasn’t just me, and maybe he wasn’t as trustworthy as I thought…

I shook away my thoughts while the elevator chimed it’s arrival on his floor. I walked out, luggage trailing behind me, and anxiously speed walking to his door. Suddenly I was picturing the scene behind that door. A Penny Lane wannabe enthralled with him between the sheets, while he tells her I’m the last thing on his mind. What was wrong with me? I knocked on it, holding my breath.

I heard rustling behind the door, and feet lazily lugging themselves across the floor. It swung open, and there he was.

“Hey,” He pulled me in for a half hug, out of breath, hair a mess. He smelled like the floor of a dive bar.

“Hi, baby” I entered the room, it was in decent condition considering he’s been here for at least two nights.

“Room looks clean…” I huffed as I released my bag from my hand in the small walkway.

Sam looked around, yawning a bit while running his hand through his tendrils.

“Yeah, I guess- Haven’t really slept in here.”

I tried to ignore the pit in my stomach, telling myself not to read into it as I kicked my shoes off.

“Crashed at Danny’s or something?” I asked, trying to remind myself that he has 3 other rooms to end up in if he pleases…

I tried to look for his eyes as he sat on the foot of the bed. He looked guilty. This wasn’t in my head anymore. Suddenly my extremities went cold.

“Sam?” I said, firmer than usual. My chest was rising and falling at this point.

“What?” He practically spat at me. He looked at me like he’d been found out. His eyes blinking with a dullness behind them that felt inhuman.

“Sam… Where were you last night?”

“Y/N…” He held his face in his hands, rubbing his eyes.

“Sam. Answer me.” I felt tears beginning to sting my eyes.

“Y/N, I was at Danny’s, okay?” He stood up now with his arms open in defense.

“Look, I’m hung over, I really don’t want to be questioned by my girlfriend right now.” He walked past me to make it to the bathroom. As I turned to watch him slam the door.

Sam was the most attentive man in my life. Never leaving me when I’m upset, always letting me cry it out to him and absorbing every word I had to say.

Instead, he started the shower.

A few tears made their way out as I unpacked my outfit for tonight, feeling stupid as I pulled out each piece that I was so excited to wear for him. A cream colored, see through, lace dress with a slit up the leg, dark brown cowboy boots and a dark brown slip to wear underneath it.

I continued laying everything out when I saw something peeking out from underneath the duvet. Assuming it was one of Sam’s shirts, I pulled it, with the intention of folding it and placing it to the side. Except it wasn’t his shirt. It was distinctively a woman’s blouse. Orange chiffon, staring back at me. I stared back at it in my hands for a second. Hoping it would disappear from my hands and maybe I would wake up from a dream. Suddenly, I had no tears, my throat was too dry to speak.

He stepped out of the bathroom in a towel and I shoved the damned piece of fabric into my luggage. His eyes were softer now.

“Love,” he called out softly.

I nodded, eye’s fixated on his. He walked towards me, he took my waist into his hands and pulled me close to him.

He brought one hand to the valley between my jaw and neck, resting his thumb on my cheek.

“Y/N, I love you, I just had a rough night. I’m so happy you’re here, I’m sorry okay?” He looked me dead in my eyes, and something about that made my stomach turn. He’s lying to me, while looking into my eyes.

“Okay.” Was all I could manage. I felt a sense of serenity, or extreme numbness. He looked puzzled, looking for the rest of what I could say on my face.

“You love me, right?” Sam said, matching the hand that was on my waist to the one on my face.

“Of course,” I smiled, insincerely. “I have to shower now.” I motioned my head towards the bathroom door.

He leaned into kiss me, I moved my head slightly to where he could only kiss the corner of my mouth.

“I feel gross from the plane, sorry.” I said acting like everything was fine. He nodded and let me go.

————————————————————————

After my shower, I immediately started getting ready. It was all so robotic.

Sam knocked on the door to let me know he’d be going to the venue for soundcheck, which he’d been late for. I put my hairdryer on to drown him out mid speech. I heard the hotel door shut, and my phone lit up on the counter.

“Baby doll I left for soundcheck, I don’t know if you heard me♥️ See me before the show like you do?”

I “thumbs’d up” his text and continued my hair and makeup.

While doing my makeup, I suddenly felt thirsty. I opted for every alcoholic nip in the mini fridge.

————————————————————————

I finished getting ready and Ubered to the venue. I drunkenly vowed to myself that Sam will not make a fool out of me. If he was going to realize what I was being short about, it will be on MY terms. Not his, and most certainly not on my emotion’s terms. The alcohol has numbed every emotion, and I was thanking the heavens for that.

While I got into the building and was escorted backstage, all I could think about was another drink.

Entering the green room, I made a beeline for the bar cart while everyone mingled and were making the last touches to their outfits. Danny, Sam and Josh were gathered around the tour manager while Jake was off to the side, looking rather uninterested.

I poured myself a drink and sent my happy-fake smiles to the tour crew as they passed by, cheerful to see me. As I sipped my concoction of liquor, I began to feel disgusted with them too, knowing they could smile at me while they probably know of Sam’s girl on the side and smiled the same way at her.

I felt a tap on my shoulder, as I turned around, I was met with the soulful eyes I so dearly loved. It was Jake. Who reeked of rum. It broke my heart that we were drinking for similar reasons.

“Hey, my sweet girl!” He pulled me in for a hug, squeezing me extra tight and letting his hand linger on the small of my back as he positioned himself to the side of me. A classic Kiszka hug. The kind of hug that makes girls wonder if it’s flirtatious but it’s really just their loving nature.

I beamed for the first time all day. Jake and I were the kind of close where we didn’t need to speak all the time to keep the friendship alive. We often found ourselves on late nights after shows talking about everything while everyone was off to sleep. As I look into his eyes, I’m realizing he might know me more than Sam does.

In my drunken state, I didn’t realize my smile faded till his eyebrow became crooked.

“Are you okay?” Was all he said, my extremities went cold once more like they did earlier.

“I-“ I felt an arm snake around my waist and someone kiss my cheek from behind. I knew who it was.

“Baby doll, come with me before I go on, talk to Jake later” Sam said, all too normal.

I smiled weakly at Jake and he gave me a concerned look. He must’ve made eye contact with Sam because his concerned look quickly became a forced, tight lipped smile. And with that, he caught up with the rest of everyone, who waved at me, unaware of the situation at hand.

Sam led me down a dark walk way, the route that takes them to the stage. The opening act was on and I could feel the bass in my chest.

We stopped walking and Sam pulled me in for a kiss. I barely kissed back, uninterested in his lips on mine… Knowing they were on God knows who’s the night earlier.

“Y/N, kiss me,” He said running his hands up my sides then to my neck, pulling me in again.

“Sam, I’m not in the mood.” I slurred.

“Y/N, I told you I’m sorry for before. I still am.”

His eyes were looking through me at this point.

“Sam, this isn’t about you, okay? Really, it’s okay!” I amazed myself with how natural it was to pretend that I didn’t find another woman’s article of clothing in his hotel room. I grabbed the sides of his face and kissed him. He began to melt into me, pushing his tongue into my mouth.

I faintly heard the opener end their set, they would be getting off on the opposite side of the stage so I wasn’t worried about stopping him. Even if I didn’t want to kiss him right now, a part of me wanted to make him think I was okay before his show.

“I love you so much-“ He said in between kisses. I kept thinking of him talking like this to another woman. It made me sick. I pulled away. Staring at him plainly. His eyes were dull with lust and confusion.

The boys started walking towards us, getting ready to go on stage. I turn to them and smile.

“Good luck tonight,” I blew them a kiss and smiled while they said their thanks and blew kisses back. Jake watched me intently as I started to walk backstage, not daring to turn around and look at Sam.

“Hey,” Jake grabbed my hand.

I turn back to him and look for his eyes, that are fixated on my hand, and work up to my face.

“Sweet girl’s on my side tonight, yeah?” He winked with a grin. His thumb rubbed my hand, all of this making me blush. This gesture was more comforting than flirting.

“Of course.” I said, bashfully.

Jake smiled once more, and I looked back towards Sam. His face was stone cold at the interaction.

————————————————————————

The concert was amazing as always. Jake made it a point to wink in my direction and blow me a few kisses during their set, all of which Sam saw.

I was still, naturally, upset. Drinking as much as I could, stumbling in the crowd a bit. I was trying to blend in with the stands but of course some of the fans recognized me, I’m embarrassed to admit I was probably too incoherent to hold any sort of conversation with them.

We were now at an after party backstage, celebrating the tour or something, I could barely tell in my inebriated state.

Sam was on his phone, frantically typing and trying to stay focused on the conversations around him. I assumed that was her on the other end of the text screen. He put his arm around me while Danny and their roadie went on about an equipment mishap. Before Sam could reply to the phone vibrating in his pocket, I turned to glance at the tour crew & opening band dancing in the middle of the room. Jake was on the other side of the dancing bunch and caught eyes with me.

“I’m gonna dance-“ I said while breaking free of Sam, who said something in return but I couldn’t hear him over the music. I walked through the moving bodies and put my hand out to Jake, who took a good swig of his drink and slammed the glass on the table beside him. He took my hand and pulled me into what felt like the music itself engulfing me. We danced, innocently. Singing the lyrics to each other as we swapped dancing partners and laughing gleefully like little kids. I felt someone grab my wrist.

“Gonna save a dance for me, right, little girl?” Sam husked into my ear.

Feeling incredibly prideful and cocky, I danced with him, and as he leaned into me, I moved my mouth to his ear.

“Tell that little slut to get her cheap shirt before tour’s over.” I said in a tone only he could hear. Sam’s grip on me loosened.

“Y/N,” His face was pale, and his feet were suddenly glued to the floor. I kept dancing.

He reached his arms out for me when I started dancing too far from him and he pulled himself into me.

“You’re not going to make a fool out of me, Sam. I’ll play stupid for everyone around us right now, but trust that I won’t let you continue this. I’m not going to be the other woman in my own relationship.” I said still quietly but snidely.

“Listen to me, Y/N,” Sam said as he tried to pull me out of all the dancing, swiftly and without causing suspicion.

“Good idea, I need air.” I said, walking towards the tunnel that lead to the parking lot.

“Even better, I’ll come with.” He said following behind.

“No, stay! Please, enjoy yourself!” I said in a tone where he knew I was sarcastic but people around us would assume I was genuine if they overheard us.

Jake came up between us and put an arm out to distance Sam.

“I’ll go with her, don’t worry!” I couldn’t tell if Jake realized what was happening or if he really thought he was just helping ease Sam by following his drunk girlfriend who needed to get air in a sketchy parking lot.

Either way, I locked arms with him and smiled.

“Thaaaank you! Enjoy yourself, Sam.”

Sam’s eyes started to get glassy. Those around us would probably assume it was from weed or the alcohol, but he was on the verge of tears. His face was hard, stoic as he watched his brother whisk me away.

————————————————————————

We made it outside. Surprisingly no one was around, just the empty trailers, cars, and tour buses.

I started running to the middle of the lot & began spinning with my arms stretched out, basking in the cool air. I heard footsteps coming towards me, increasing speed.

Jake ran up to bear hug me, I yelped.

“You’re too drunk to go exploring, let’s go closer to the building, Y/N!” he laughed as he pulled me towards the brick wall. I tried to protest but I was too weak and he was too strong.

We reached the wall and I turned to him. There was that concerned expression again. It made me shiver.

Jake started to take off his jacket, he laid it gently on my shoulders.

“Better?” He asked. I’m assuming he thought my slight shiver was from being cold, considering my outfit choice, but the truth is that my blood is boiling from anger and alcohol, I can’t feel a thing.

I nodded and gave him a tight lipped smile.

“Are you okay? And answer me this time. You drank like a sailor, and you don’t do that.” He waited for me to respond. Suddenly I was too scared to speak again, like my voice wasn’t going to be strong enough to carry these feelings into solid words.

“Are you okay?” He repeated.

I teared up, flicking away the single tear that dropped on my cheek. I ran my fingers through my hair, pulling it out of my face, taking a deep breath.

“I’m fine.” I said, knowing he wouldn’t believe me.

“You know I know that isn’t true.” He said, leaning closer to my face. I smelled the dark rum on his breath.

“How do you know that?” I said sarcastically as a few more tears left my eyes. He got closer.

“You know things are pretty much over in my relationship… I know the signs.” Jake’s lips stayed parted and his eyes focused on my mouth.

I steadied my back against the wall, backing away. He moved closer again.

“How long has it been going on?” I asked him, scared to hear the answer.

“Hm?” He seemed genuinely confused.

“Sam and some girl…” I said quietly.

“What gir-… Wait, he’s sleeping with her?” With that, the tears flowed more. He pulled me into him and left he sob.

“Let it out, Y/N, I’m so sorry, I had no idea. I can’t believe he did this to you. None of us wanted her around but he said he was just trying to help.”

He was rubbing my back, and suddenly, I was not only devastated, but curious. Who was this girl and why was he trying to help her?

I brought my head up to ask these circling questions and Jake looked at me with his tender eyes.

In this moment I felt like Jake was looking at me in a way that only women he’s been to bed with have experienced. I felt frozen, I was nervous that I was so low I’d dig myself deeper, even when I wouldn’t want to stoop to Sam’s level. I looked down, avoiding Jake’s eyes.

“I’d never do that- to you,” Jake said, letting out an awkward and breathy laugh, an attempt to lighten the meaning of his words.

I nodded, still looking down. This can’t be happening right now. I started thinking about how Jake would taste on my lips… His rum mixed with my liquor… I physically shook my head to attempt to metaphorically shake these thoughts in my head.

Jake’s single finger lifted my chin to look into his eyes. His other arm lifted, planting his hand on the wall.

“Wanna get out of here?” Was all he said.

Like clockwork, my phone started vibrating. Text after text, and the night was too quiet to ignore it. Jake waited for an answer, trying not to look down where my phone was located, inside the calf of my boot.

My face was plain, not able to answer him. Saved by the bell, his phone in his jacket pocket started ringing, I reached for it and saw Sam’s contact photo. I handed it to Jake, an attempt to make him get his finger off my chin.

He sighed, then muted it and put it into his back pocket. My phone continued to vibrate. Jake looked into my eyes once more. It felt like he was trying to subconsciously communicate that he could take me away from it all, and take care of me, even if it was for the night.

“Jake,” was all I could let out before he leaned his face, inches from mine.

“You’re my sweet girl, you know that?” He said looking at my lips. I’m not sure why, but I nodded, looking up at him.

“I love him though. No matter what.” My eyes watery.

“I know, I’d never ask you to change what’s in your nature,” He paused. Taking my hand into his. He brought it to his mouth, giving my knuckles a light kiss, staring into my eyes as he did this. “It just breaks my heart that you’re so loyal to someone who was entertaining someone else, even if it’s my baby brother.”

Suddenly, the curiosity was getting the best of me. Who was this girl?

“Jake, just tell me who she is.” I took my hand out of his and rested both hands on his chest. Practically pleading and trying to change the subject away from his earlier question. Surprisingly, he let me.

“You know that ex girl of Sam’s? James’ girlfriend’s best friend?” He adjusted his jacket that was falling off my shoulder.

James was one of the openers who has opened for the guys every couple of legs of their tour. His girlfriend introduced Sam to his ex girlfriend, they dated for awhile. I was told through the grapevine that she would get into Sam’s head, make him choose between her and his tasks for the band… When he finally left her, he knew he would see her again on tour, but always made it a point to let me know that it wouldn’t be by his choice. She’d be there with James’ girlfriend and he didn’t really have much to say to her, so he would just avoid her.

My stomach was in knots. Thinking of him with her again. Someone he was so badly hurt by is who he chose to break my trust with. It’d hurt less if it were someone new. I lightly sobbed, moving my hands from Jake’s chest to around his neck. Hugging him tightly, he held me.

“Jake, how could he?” I looked up, trying to find the answers for Sam’s infidelity on his older brother’s face. He gave me the kind of look that told me he didn’t know what to say.

I sniffled, trying to collect myself. I thought about Jake’s previous offer. Getting out of here… with him. As we looked at each other, I knew that he knew what was going through my head. Us, going wherever he had in mind, and losing ourselves in each other.

If anyone saw us, they would think they were interrupting, and maybe they would be, but I wouldn’t dare move till he did.

“Let me take care of you.” He said, each word laced with lust, his hands were underneath the jacket he leant me, and on my waist.

I let out air through my nose, furrowing my eyebrows and frowning my lips. In a way that said “We can’t do this, I still love him.” without saying it.

We must’ve been lost in this moment because I didn’t hear the footsteps coming from the entrance of the tunnel that led to the parking lot. Until I did.

Jake and I both turned our heads to see one of the tour bus drivers. He awkwardly smiled at us and went to start the bus.

We let out a sigh of relief, knowing that if anyone else saw us, or God forbid Sam, we would be dead.

“Now or never.” He said, pulling my face to look at his. I quickly nodded in response.

————————————————————————

We made it back to the hotel after a silent ride. As we walked through the lobby and made it into the elevator, I couldn’t believe I was doing this. Jake held my hand and gave it a light squeeze. I felt him looking at me watch the floor numbers ding on the monitor. I turned to him and smiled lazily. He smiled back, and kissed me on the cheek. He lingered there for a bit before moving to my ear.

“I’m going to make it better.” He whispered.

I felt a pool begin between my legs. It felt so wrong. My boyfriend’s brother, making me feel like this. But Sam was wrong too. I hated him as much as I hated myself in this moment. But I was so detached from reality. So drunk, so lost, and so hurt. The doors opened.

We walked out, walking past Sam’s room. My eyes followed it as if he was going to come running out of it. Jake opened his hotel door, the one conveniently next to Sam’s, softly saying my name, and pulling me into the room. He closed the door behind me.

I felt him behind me as I entered more of the room, knowing I was entering the biggest mistake of my life and my body couldn’t turn off autopilot. He came up behind me, holding me. He kissed my shoulder and rubbed my stomach. I let out a sigh, I hate to admit it, but I was turned on at the thought of what he was going to do to me.

Even though my body was vibrating, my chest was aching, and a few tears escaped. He spun me around, anticipating what would be our first kiss, but he was met with my eyes, full of tears. His face was surprisingly comforting. He pulled me in for a hug. The kind of hug he always gave me.

“We won’t.” He said, as I fell apart beneath him. He kissed my forehead and held me close. I let out wailing cries, mourning what was once Sam and I, and what I almost allowed to happen. I was sick with myself as much as I was with him. I was trembling, and my throat felt raw from the noises escaping it.

A string of words kept flowing from me, “Jake what did I do? I’m horrible! I lost my best friend, I love him, how could he do this to me? I love him, Jake, I love him!”

He lead me to the bed since I began falling to the floor in his arms. He shushed me, rubbing my back.

“You didn’t do anything, I did this. Sam’s at fault, I’m at fault. Not you.” He said firmly.

I weeped. Picturing what almost happened and what transpired with Sam and his ex in the next room the night before.

“Y/N, I am miserable right now. I almost took advantage of your vulnerability because I lost the love of my life. I betrayed my brother, don’t blame yourself right now. Please. I will make this better.” The last sentence was said in a new tone than it was in the elevator.

———————-————————————————

I woke up to knocking on the door. The room was pitch black, my face was damp, and my throat was sore.

The knocking turned into banging.

“JAKE, LET ME THE FUCK IN. YOU PIECE OF SHIT, OPEN THIS FUCKING DOOR.” The banging persisted, and the voice was familiar. It was Sam.

My body was frozen, I felt Jake rustle beside me.

“Stay here.” He said, making his way through the dark, turning on a lamp on his way to the banging door.

I sat up, and looked at my phone on the nightstand, I tapped it to see any notifications. My phone was completely blown up from Sam and even a few texts and calls from Danny.

“Please answer Y/N”

“Y/N”

“Hey”

“Y/N, Sam is trying to call you, he’s going crazy right now, he’s not telling anyone anything. What happened? Are you with Jake? He’s trying his phone too. Just let me know if you’re okay.”

Jake opened the door, and Sam busted through, immediately attacking Jake.

“YOU THINK I WOULDN’T FIND OUT?” Sam yelled as he threw a punch at Jake, who was dodging his fists, telling him to calm down.

“YOU LET YOUR RELATIONSHIP FALL APART SO YOU TAKE MY GIRLFRIEND? DID YOU FUCK HER? THE FUCKING TOUR BUS DRIVER TOLD ME HE SAW YOU WITH HER.” He pushed Jake up against the wall. Sam hasn’t even looked towards the bed, where I was.

Sam had Jake by the collar of his shirt, I was frozen.

“Sam.” His name escaped my lips, raspy.

He turned around. Eyes blood shot, hair a mess. He let out a breathy, sarcastic laugh. He turned to Jake and raised his fist, aiming for his face. Jake, again, dodged his brothers fist, and finally used his strength to throw Sam to the floor.

“JAKE!” I screamed, finally being able to jump up. Jake looked at me while Sam struggled beneath him, cursing at him. Jake gave Sam a firm gaze, holding him down.

“YOU FUCKED HER? YOU FUCKING TOUCHED HER?” Sam yelled.

“I could’ve but I didn’t. Because I fucking love you, and I love her. And YEAH, I am miserable right now, I wanted to take her from you because of it, but what the fuck is your excuse?” He spat through his teeth. Sam writhed underneath him.

“I DIDN’T CHEAT ON Y/N, I WOULD NEVER DO THAT TO HER,” Sam yelled “Y/N, PLEASE LISTEN TO ME.” Jake let Sam go. He stood up in front of me.

“I didn’t sleep with her, I didn’t kiss her, I didn’t even hug (her name), PLEASE believe me, listen to me, LOOK AT ME.” He said, tearfully, shaking me by my sides as I struggled to keep eye contact.

I finally caved. I nodded in return. Waiting for him to continue. Jake gave me a kind smile, and patted Sam’s shoulder. He told us he’d be in Josh’s room if he needed us, and left.

Sam led me to sit on the foot of the bed. He held my hands and continued to speak.

“She was on tour, like I said she would be. She told me that one of our roadies and her had a fling after her and I split two years ago. She said she wasn’t expecting to see him again and it was hard to avoid him because he was working close with James’ team.” He looked into my eyes, waiting for me to let him continue. I nodded.

“She said she was scared of what he would do if they were alone because he threatened her, I told her she could hang around us. I have no say in who’s fired, I tried to relay it to our tour manager but he said that the roadie was one of his best employees and wasn’t dropping him this far into tour because of something that can’t be proven. I was stupid. It was a way in. Last night she said he said something about knowing which room she was staying in…”

Again, I nodded. He hasn’t broke eye contact, or tried to retrace his story… He was telling the truth, and I let him continue just that.

“I didn’t want to deal with her, believe this. But our tour manager was being a dick, I know she’s not the talent and doesn’t have needs in their eyes, but I felt obligated to help. I told her to come to my room, stay there the night, and I’d go to Dannys… She came to my room, and immediately, I knew something was up, Y/N. She started asking about you, and how serious we were. I asked her what her intentions were. She joked to get me back. I told her to get out, but she wouldn’t. She insisted that the story about her and this roadie was still true, and she wanted me to protect her. I left her in my room, and I slept in our photographers room. I knew that if I slept in Danny’s, she wouldn’t end this till she got in. And as for her shirt, one of mine was missing from my suitcase, I assumed she took one of mine to sleep in and left hers for me to find. And baby, I’m so sorry that you found it. That’s awful.” He put his hand on my cheek, forcing me to look at him.

“You don’t have to believe me, I know this sounds like a load of bullshit. But please, ask anyone. Anyone you want. They’ll tell you what impression I fell under.” His eyes pleaded with mine. Even though it was hard to give into him after this entire day, my gut was telling me that he was telling the truth.

“Sam,” I tried to find what I was going to say next. That I believe him and that I love him of course, but I couldn’t say that without being honest about what almost transpired between Jake and myself. He waited patiently.

“I almost did something unforgivable tonight, to spite you.” I continued. His chest physically sunk, and his eyes welled up.

“Almost? Not just Jake?” He spoke, loosening his tight grip on my hands.

“I’m not proud.” I teared up. My voice was still raspy.

He cleared his throat, letting out a sigh, opening his mouth to ask “How far?”

“He asked me to come here and I did-“ I started, but Sam put his hand on my thigh, trying to get me back on track.

“Baby, how far?” He said firmly, but still sadly, nonetheless.

“He kissed my cheek in the elevator… when he got to the room, he kissed me here from behind.” I ran my fingers along my shoulder, showing him where. His face was stoic. He looked at my cheek and then my shoulder.

“He stopped when he realized it’s not what I wanted. I promise he did, Jake is not at fault. He feels like he is, he says he is. He’s just lost right now. He doesn’t want me like that, nor do I want him. I never did. It’s always and only been you, Sam. I was in such a bad place. My life felt like it was over.” I began to weep again.

He pulled me into his lap, let me cry, and held me… Like he always did. He kissed the top of my head while I soaked his shirt in my tears.

“It’s okay. Him and I will talk, but you and I are okay, baby.” Sam let out. I was relieved, but still felt like it wasn’t.

“I’m so so-“ I tried to reply, but he stopped me with a kiss. He let me go and looked deeply into my eyes.

“Don’t you say sorry. I’m sorry. I could’ve told you from the jump. But I was so in my own head about that night and I took it out on you.” He kissed away what tears were on my face and stroked my hair.

He always knew how to make me feel at ease, and right now I did… For the first time all day.

“And by the way, I was texting her earlier to never show her face around me again. You’re more than welcome to look-“ He said, reaching for his phone, but I shook my head in protest.

“Not now…” I said softly, looking into his eyes. He placed his hands back where they were, supporting me in almost a cradling like position.

“Sammy.” I spoke out. Knowing he knows I only call him ‘Sammy’ when I’m feeling soft.

“Yes, Baby doll?” He tucked my hair behind my ear.

“Take me to bed?” I rasped. He smiled and leaned forward to me, into a passionate kiss. His tongue dipped between my lips, searching for mine. I let out a small whimper, and he let out a deep moan in return.

He kicked off his shoes, while I transitioned from his arms to straddling his hips, wrapping my arms around his neck. I started to grind my throbbing, clothed pussy onto the denim covering his hardening bulge. His hands made their way onto my ass, guiding me on top of him. We let out moans and soft laughs in between our passionate kisses.

I took his bottom lip between my teeth, earning a low groan from my beautiful boy. He lightly tapped my ass.

“Lay down, baby.” He instructed, and I did as I was told. Resting my head onto the pillow, I looked up at him… He was undoing the buttons on his shirt. I leaned forward, helping him. Once the buttons were undone, I worked it down his shoulders. I went to undo the buckle on his belt, but he moved my hands away, and had me lean back by gently pushing me.

“I’m taking care of you.” He said firmly. I thought of how Jake said this earlier, but the truth is, only Sam could.

I blushed under his gaze while he removed his pants, leaving him in his briefs. His cock was rock hard, Sam caught me looking at it pulse for me. I bit my lip lightly and went to cover my face, squirming my legs beneath him.

“Don’t be shy, now” He let out a little laugh and so did I. He began undressing me, removing my dress, then my slip. He looked down at me in my bra and panties. Completely flushed and exposed, just for him. I opened my legs while he got between them.

“Sammy,” I began. His eyes traveled up my body and landed on my bashful gaze.

“Hmm?” He hummed, running his hands up and down my thighs.

“I love you too. I didn’t really answer you before…” I said, still trying to make things right.

He smiled lightly and pushed air through his nose.

“I know you do, my girl. Don’t worry.” He replied looking up at me. He began to slowly remove my black lace panties. Once they were discarded, I let out a shakey breath… Sam laid down next to me and gave me a tender kiss. He spread my legs wider for him. He took some of the wetness from my core and dragged it to my clit.

He began rubbing it just the way I like it. Immediately, I’m saying his name over again. He dips his skillful fingers into my pussy, toying at my g spot. He alternates between my clit and pussy while kissing my mouth, and slowly moving open mouthed kisses down my neck.

I pulled the lace of my thin bra down, exposing my hardened nipple. I start squeezing the sensitive bud, suddenly it’s replaced with Sammy’s wet mouth. His hand is solely focused on my clit while his tongue works my nipple. I reach my hand down to his throbbing cock. I cant think of anything more intoxicating than the thought of him deep inside me.

He moans onto my nipple, creating vibrations that intensify the sensation.

“Sammy, I need you, please.” I let out, desperately.

He releases my nipple and doesn’t let go of my clit while now, starting to lean over me.

“Aw, look at you.” He says, looking down at me, grinding into his hand, squeezing the nipple he just had in his mouth between my fingers.

“My girl wants it rough, huh? My pretty girl wants me to cum inside her perfect little pussy, right?” It doesn’t matter how sweet Sammy can be, he loves to see me fall apart for him. He wants to see me cry for him, beg for him. Always loving a show put on for him.

“Yes, Sammy, baby please, I need it, give it to me.” I moaned out, feeling like I could cum just watching him drool at the sight of me. He removed his hand from my clit and removed his briefs. His cock sprung up for me. He positioned himself between my legs.

He kissed my forehead, lining himself up with me, before sinking into my aching pussy. The sounds alone from my wetness were enough to prove how much I needed him. He fucked into me, bringing his hand to my clit once more.

He kissed me deeply, pulled away, and looked into my eyes.

“I love you,” He groaned while pumping in and out of me.

“I love you too.” I moaned, unintentionally tightening my walls around him. My arms were around his neck, while his chains danced from his chest onto my neck.

We both moaned into each other’s mouths, he brought up his other hand to relax my jaw into a more opened position.

He let a slow, string of spit into my mouth, earning a pornographic moan from me as I swallowed it. He mouth hung open while watching me do so as he continued to fuck deeper into my pussy.

His fingers sped up on my clit and he sped up his pace while hitting my g spot. I felt a familiar knot in my stomach, and he could tell I was close by my walls clenching and face alone.

“Cum for me, baby, cum on my dick, let it out, little girl, let it go for me.” He cooed as I came. I wrapped my legs around his torso, tightening them with each second of my release.

I felt his cock twitch inside of me.

“Cum inside me, Sammy, give it to me, please, please-“ I panted. And with that, he came deep inside of me. Moaning and panting, sweat beads on his forehead, pressing his to mine. He found my lips and kissed me hungrily, like he was starving for my mouth.

Our eyes were still teary eyed from earlier but extra teary for the passionate love making we just shared. He collapsed on top of me. Pulling himself out of me, he rolled onto the side of my body, now pulling me into him.

“I love you, so so much, Y/N.” He said softly.

“I love you so much more, Sammy.”

#sam kiszka #sammy kiszka #sam kiszka smut #sammy kiszka smut #greta van fleet #greta van fleet smut #fanfic #greta van fleet fic #sam kiszka x reader #sam kiszka x y/n #smut #jake kiszka #jake kiszka x reader #jake kiszka x y/n

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sindar-princeling · 11 months

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(I was wondering for a while if I should edit this post to be neater, or erase the things I've already said, but after all I decided to keep it just as it was, because over the past few months I was adding more and more thoughts to it as I edited, and I wanted to keep them that way, unedited and just the way they came to me. so here are some thoughts I had while editing the newsletter)

editing LOTR to go chronologically felt like constantly finding some hidden gems that can only be found when you read that way, and wondering if they were put there intentionally (and knowing jirt, they most probably were). it was a truly, deeply special experience, and a unique way of experiencing LOTR to me

there are so many fragments where jirt says what happens after everything! the ponies were okay, Pippin cried when he heard horns after the battle of Pelennor fields for years to come, even the prologue reveals some information about who survived the War

the long breaks in Rivendell and Lórien were very interesting in this format. some people were remarking how they liked thinking about the fellowship just chilling during those breaks, and I think it created a nice effect of both the characters and us forgetting how close the danger is for them. it let us take those breaks with them!

the only part of the quest that doesn't have a date assigned to it takes part in Lórien, it's the one where Frodo and Sam sing about Gandalf. and it's SUCH a good detail! Tolkien kept track of every event, of dates and even times of day for the entire duration of the quest, but this fragment is just Somewhere There, because in Lórien time seems to stand still, and you can never know when you are

the only other fragments which are confusing time-wise take place during the dark days with no sun, which is of course a great writing choice, but even they are described in Appendix B - the Lórien fragment has no date, no reference point, nothing

it doesn't hit you that much when you read the book, but the battle of Helm's Deep happened literally just one (1) week after the breaking of the Fellowship. Aragorn was out there having the Worst Week Of His Fucking Life

I loved feeling the impact of certain events more while reading chronologically (the three hunters running for days made more impact on me when I was sending yet another entry and they were still running)

before actually going through TTT and ROTK, I was preparing for very long entries for each day. but after the Tower of Cirith Ungol and the Battle of the Pelennor Fields (March 15th), the next ten days before the Ring is destroyed are so... empty in comparison. and it works amazingly well when you read according to dates. we hear just enough from Aragorn and the Host of the West to let the tension grow and grow. we hear just enough from Frodo and Sam to feel the oppressive atmosphere of these entries. but on the other hand, the entries are short enough to set our imaginations to work and make them fill in the rest. to me it's the perfect balance of the horror you read about and the horror you know is still there even after you close the book. this is what I mean by hidden gems, because it works that well only when you read day-by-day - in the book those fragments are just a few pages long, and you can get through those ten days very fast. but when you read according to dates, the torment is spread over so much time

the previous point is why I loved seeing the pacing in LOTR this way. in LOTR, so much can happen in ten days; and yet so little happened between march 15th and 25th besides fear and suffering

there was one part that gave me a headache because I spent so long trying to figure it out I forgot to eat - March 10th-14th in the Frodo and Sam subplot. it was a huge relief when I opened my atlas of Middle-earth and found its author Karen Wynn Fonstad had the same doubts when she'd been researching for the book that I did (and also that she arrived at the same conclusion).

apart from the March 11th-14th fragments, the most challenging day to edit was March 15th because Everything Happened So Much, and many things - simultaneously. it was a choice between chopping certain fragments into really small bits or sacrificing the impact of certain scenes

the only thing I'm sad about losing in this format is the ending, because Frodo getting ill and leaving Middle-Earth in fall, the same season as when he first set out, brackets the plot of LOTR such a beautiful and heartbreaking way and underlines one last time that "there and back again" is never really just that - you always end up somewhere else than where you started

#lotr newsletter #it's mine my own my precious

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ohtobeleah · 1 year

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Nosebleed Section // Jake Seresin

Part Two: Conflict Diamond

Summary: Jake struggles with putting his love for you into words which ultimately ends up pushing you further and further away. When everything comes to a boiling point? Is he able to say the three words you’re so desperately seeking.

Word Count: 4.4K

Warnings: Mentions of bar fights, mild themses of injuries associated with a bar fight. Jake Seresin x F!reader

Author Note: Part One Is Linked Here. Angsty little two parter to get the blood pumping. Dunno how well this will take but I enjoyed writing it nevertheless. So here you go.

Bob knew the second he saw the blue and red lights flashing through the window from the car park that you’d be done for. You were young, lithe and homely, wise by no means. Knowing that you were one guys, for his eyes and only—you’d go down any day of the week for Jake. If it meant he didn’t have to deal with people treating him like sex on legs.

“Hey—“ Bob shoved at your foot as you groaned and jolted from your sleep. Looking at him as you pushed yourself up onto your elbows in the back of Roosters Bronco. Head spinning from the copious amount of liquid courage and bones throbbing from the impromptu bar fight. Your nose killed. Your lip swollen. Blood still stained your shirt and face, dried and caked into crevices you didn’t even know you had. If Rhett could see you know he’d tell you to pull yourself together and stop acting like a delinquent—little hypocritical coming from a guy who’s wrap sheet was the same thickness as the dictionary. “If you think I’m gonna bail you out of your responsibilities Y/n you got another thing coming.” Bob and Rhett were five years older than you but they both, each to their own respect, acted like your fucking dad.

“Hell are you on about Bob?” Questioning your brother’s scowl, he pulled Roosters Bomber off your chest. “The fuck?”

“Cops are here.” Your heart sank as you sat up and saw Sam Taylor standing behind Bob. The North Island local Constable. He was a nice guy—hated bringing you in. But he always made sure whenever you were that you got what you needed.

“Hiya Sam.” Your head was throbbing as the alcohol in your system had started to break down.

“Abbott, we gotta stop meeting like this.” Sam sighed as Bob stepped aside to let you climb out of the back of Rooster Bronco. “You’re gonna have to come down to the station—“

“Yeah yeah I know the drill.” You turned on your heels, heading towards the police car parked in the lot just across the way. “No need for the cuffs alright they give me a rash.”

“Shit—“ Jake saw the slights as he came out of the bathroom, fixing his fly as he dashed out the front door, brushing past his colleagues who all stood around watching the events take place. They all knew this was coming. “Brawler!”

“I’m fine Hangman go back to whatever it was that you were doing.” Constable Taylor just followed you back to his car. Shaking his head because this wasn’t the first and certainly wouldn’t be the last time he picked you up. “Gonna catch a lift with Sam here.” You didn’t both turning around, why would you when Jake had basically said he didn’t want to love you. Struggling to come to terms with the fact he’d fallen for someone like you—just a girl from Wyoming who couldn’t hack it. A Brawler.

“Sam, hey.” Jake caught up to the young constable as he shut the door behind you. “She was just defending me—“

“From a twenty something blonde? Yeah, get outta here Seresin, I'm not buying it, Abbotts a smart girl but she’s got rocks in her head. She knew what she was doing.”

“In all seriousness. Jake lowered his voice. “That girl assaulted me.” It was the first time Jake had actually admitted it. “She wasn’t takin’ no for an answer and just wouldn’t stop.”

“Who threw the first punch?” Sam asked, stunning Jake into silence for a moment as he watched you lay down in the back of the cop car like you’d done it a million times before. “Exactly, as for your assault, file a report, but she’s going to the drunk tank, she’ll sleep it off—cop a charge and hopefully get to keep her job if this shit doesn’t make it to trial.”

Jake loved you. He really did. He’d just never loved anyone like he loved you before. His own feelings scared him half to death because he couldn’t control them. It truly frightened him that the feelings he had for you went so deep that he’d move mountains and part seas just to get to you if you needed him.

Struggling with his own emotions may have cost him everything when he’d worded it the way he had. But deep down Jake knew if grief ever darkened his door, you'd light it up the way you brighten up a room. It hits him right in the chest,

puts the breath inside of his lungs every time he sees you smile. A gift all for him each time because those smiles seem less and less genuine nowadays.

He wonders briefly, while looking at you through bright reds and deep blues if you’d stopped smiling for him when you stopped believing in the idea he may have loved you back like you so openly loved him.

“Ring me when her bails set, would ya Sam.” Jake knocked on the window to grab your attention. You didn’t bother looking up as you send him a half assed wave of acknowledgment. That was good enough for Jake as a smile crept its way across his face.

“Why?” Sam just shook his head as he made his way around to the driver's side door. “You gonna pay for it?” Jake turned to Bob who’d been standing off to the side just taking it all in. This hadn’t been the first time he’d watched one of his siblings get carted off in the back of a paddy wagon and it sure a shit wasn’t about to be the last. It was in his blood, your blood.

“Someone’s gotta.” Jake replied softly as he made his way over to the weapons system officer. Meeting him toe to toe. “Neither one of you have ever told me why you're Floyd and Rhett and Y/n and Abbott?”

Much like Rhett who’d always been chasing a way out of Amelia county but could never pull the trigger, Bob was right there. Firing off on all cylinders the day the twins turned eighteen. He ran, but you ran straight after him.

“Because I didn’t wanna be an Abbott.”

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

You didn’t remember being brought in and being detained in the drunk tank at the Miramar station. But you do remember Sam slamming the sliding roller door open the next morning. The sudden ringing in your head as you fell from the small fold out to the concrete flooring below told you all you needed to know. You’d fucked up. Again.

“Bails been posted, Jakes waiting outside for you.” He smiled softly as he watched you scramble to your feet. You looked like hell but that bitch looked worse and that alone was worth it. No one touched Jake if he didn’t want to be touched, it didn't matter if he was usually the one initiating the conversation or approaching whoever he had set his sights on. on. Consent was consent—for everyone. “You should go home, get cleaned up, stay outta trouble long enough for this to figure itself out.”

“Where’s the fun in that Constable Taylor?” You tried to remain your usual stoic self. Carefree and honest. “But I’ll do my best—“ But the cracks in your shell were starting to crack ever since Jake fucking Seresin said he didn’t want to love you. Well, he didn’t quite say it like that but you knew how to read between the lines. “Thanks for the free lodging.” You tapped his chest before making your way down the hall to the clerk's office to grab your things. Your shoes, your phone, wallet, keys and whatever was left of your remaining dignity.

“There she is, How ya doing Brawler?” Jake beamed as he leaned against the hood of his pick up. Smirking at you with that thousand watt smile as you stumbled down the front staircase a little less than graciously. Groaning as you held your hand against your rib and started on that nasty limp you had when putting pressure on your right leg. An old rodeo injury that was only ever exacerbated when you decided physical altercations were far more exciting and adrenaline enduring than verbal confrontations.

“There’s definitely a lesion here.” You groaned as you made your way over to the passenger’s side door without so much as a hello or a thank you.. Despite your inner turmoil, you and Jake had a connection that didn’t need to be spoken, he knew you were thankful for the lift just like deep down despite his inability to admit it out loud that he was thankful you came to his defense last night. “But I’m not gonna be the one who figures it out—“ Clipling in your belt, you let your head hit the back of the chair as you sank lower and lower. “Take me home please—I need a shower and a fucking tylenol.”

“You definitely take the whole fuck around and find out analogy to a whole knee level huh?” It was silent when you didn’t answer straight away—not even a song playing softly through the speakers could be heard as your head throbbed from the bruising that had started the shine through in shades of deep purples and gross greens.

“Yeah well, stop fucking around with Badge Bunnies and we wouldn’t have this problem.” You huffed as you picked dried blood out from under your fingernails, noticing just how cut up your right hand truly was and how much your wrist killed when you rolled it around. “Did you get a New Year’s Eve kiss?” You weren’t asking to be nice, you were asking to see if Jake had gone back to his merry little ways after you were taken away,

Trying to see if he’d done exactly what you’d told him not to do and fuck around with yet another girl who just wasn’t good for him. Not that you were any better. You weren’t good enough for anyone.

“Rooster gave me a pretty sexually awakening smooch.” Jake chuckled when he saw your lips turn up into a fleeting smile. His hand had wandered over to your knees, gently resting against the denim of your jeans. Thumb rubbing absentmindedly as he drove with one hand. “But no, no I didn’t get a new years kiss.” He paused, wondering if he should try his luck again because what were the odds you’d jump out of a movie car to get away from him if he put his foot in it again. “The person I wanted to share a New Year's kiss with got carted away in the back of a cop car around eleven.”

“Damn, bet you’re really struggling to wrap your head around that aren’t you.” You couldn’t help but to throw what he’d said back at him. You thought, which was so stupid now that you really knew how Jake felt—that for a moment there he really did like you. Or even just liked the idea of you. But you didn’t want to make his life any more complicated than the Navy already made it. You didn’t want someone struggling to love you. You just wanted someone to love you for who you were, as fiercely and as unconditionally as you loved them.

“Y/n—“ Nope. You weren’t doing this. Jake's grip on your knee tightened as his heart sank into his stomach. Ah, the proverbial foot in mouth he was worried about. “I didn’t mean it like that, I just—“ Interrupting Jake with a scoff you shook your head as he pulled up into your street. Removing his hand from your knee as you unclipped your seatbelt.

“I don’t wanna talk about it, Hangman, just uh—you can drop me at the end of the drive.” Jake slowed the car to a halt, expecting you to jump out even before he put the car in park. But you sat there for a second in silence—looking into your lap. “Thanks for the lift, and I’ll pay you back for the bail—you know I’m good for it.” The mistake was yours to believe you and Jake could ever work. You’d wear it like a sunburn that might disappear but it won't leave you. The sting of loving someone who just couldn’t commit entirely. “I’m glad that nothing happened, you’re a pain in the arse sometimes but no one deserves to be treated like that.” You let your eyes linger at Jakes as he drank in the sight of you. Bloodied, bruised, fresh out the slammer. “I’ll see ya around Seresin.”

“Yeah.” Jake didn’t know why but he just couldn’t say what he wanted to say. It’s like the cat had his tongue, his inability to tell you how he felt was pushing you further and further away and the tension hung in the air like cigarette smoke. Any time Jake Seresin had to face his feelings head on or had to try articulate those feelings into words so that those around him understood wholeheartedly how he felt, felt like he was trying to talk with a mouth full of sediment. “I’ll see you around.”

When you got out of the car, you couldn’t see—vision blurred by tears that welled because why wasn’t Jake fighting to keep you around? It sucked. Simple. It sucked that you were in this position, but you weren’t going to let him see how easily he affected you. Show no emotion, no empathy. No heart.

“Seeya Jake.” You mumbled as you fished your keys from your pocket. Unlocking the front door as Jake watched from the driver's seat as you disappeared into your home.

“I love you so fucking much—“ Jake gritted his teeth as he clenched his jaw and tightened his grip on around the steering wheel so tight it turned his knuckles white. “Why the fuck can’t you just say that?”

***~***~***~***~***~***~***

The unimaginable temperature of the water that rushed over your aching muscles soothed your entire being as you washed away the blood that stained your skin and clumped in your hair. Notes of raspberry blossom and juniper filled that bathroom as you scrubbed and scrubbed and scrubbed. Washing away the pain of heartbreak, worse than any physical pain you’d ever endured.

Your phone that sat on top of the vanity cut off whatever song had been playing—your ringtone blasting out as you blindly reached out to see who was calling. With hesitation, you let it ring a few more times before settling on the fact that to get this out of the way and done with would be better than to drag it out for days on end. Dodging calls you knew wouldn’t stop.

“Rhett—before you start, just know, the bitch had it coming.” Trying to defend yourself before the conversation even started.

“A FUCKIN’ BAR FIGHT ARE YOU SHITTIN ME Y/N.” Rhett’s voice was so loud in your ear you had to pull your phone away from your ear and place it on speaker. Making sure to hold it far enough away from the water that cascaded itself down your body. “Are you insane!?”

“I don’t need shit from you.” You reminded Rhett as you heard the sound of rodeo announcements coming from the background. “Sounds like you're meant to be focusing on your next ride, cowboy.”

“Rob said you might lose your job?” Fucking Bob, of course he snitched. You made a mental note to put a thumbtack on his seat next time you saw him. “What in god's name are you tryin’ to prove here kid?” Rhett asked as he kicked the dirty at his feet. Holding his phone to his ear as he fixed his hat.

“Yeah well, win some you lose some—“ You sighed, just wishing for this conversation to be over sooner rather than later. “Could always kickstart my comeback career.” You knew that would rival Rhett up. Everyone in Amelia county knew he was the best bull rider in the nation, but you were just a little better. Key word being were.

“Shut Up Brawler you know you can’t.” It wasn’t often that Rhett referred to you with your call sign, still gobsmacked you decided a career in the Navy was what was going to drag you out of the hole you put yourself in. “Stop doing whatever it is that you’re doing kid, shit ain't worth losing everything you worked so hard to achieve.”

“You’re just scared because it won’t be Rhett Abbott at the top of the scoreboard anymore, it’d be me.” He knew you were right but he wasn’t going to give you the satisfaction of hearing it. “And you’d be surprised just how worth it he really is.”

“I did the same thing one—“ Rhett had made it out once. Made it all the way to New Jersey. Settled for a little, had a whole new life. “Look where it got me.” Until Maria turned around and told him he still wasn’t enough for her.

“Jake isn’t Maria Rhett—“ You immediately defend Jake when you caught onto what Rhett was alluding to, cutting off the shower and stepping out with a towel wrapped around your body. Tucked under your armpits.

“No, Jakes a hell of a lot worse considering you two aren’t even a thing.” You had nothing to say as you looked at yourself in the mirror. Eyes bloodied, eye socket bruised. Cuts and abrasions littered your skin and all the colours of the rainbow seemed to pepper your complexion like badges of honour or horror. Depending on what way you wanted to look at it.

“Listen to me kid, you know I used to put my crooked foot in what I couldn't resolve. But I’ve taken control now, hard work is good for my soul and I love it, growing through life and stress knowing the fight is just half of self-imposing righteousness.” Rhett paused as you stood just eyeing off whatever pathetic version of yourself stood staring back at you. “I think it’s time you did the same damn thing before you either get yourself kicked out of the Navy or worse—killed.”

Knocking at the front door pulled you out of the self loathing trance you’d fallen into while your brother took it upon himself to lecture you about the path less travelled.

“Rhett, I love you—but I gotta go, someone’s at my door.”

“Don’t throw your life away Y/n, come home?” He asked as you held your breath at the offer. “You’re in over your head there kid.”

“Make sure you don’t get Mickey bull—he bucks anyone off with two seconds.” You shook your head as the knocking continued, hanging up before Rhett could say anything more. The knocking wasn't stopping, if anything it got louder and more despite the longer you let it keep going.

“Alright! Fuckin’ hell im coming!” You shouted as you barrelled down the stairs in your towel. “Don't get your knickers in a wod.” You sighed just as you opened your front door to see Jake standing there. “Jake? What are you doing here?” He’d come to just tell you how it was. Had every intention of pouring his heart out to you because you of all people deserved to know exactly how he felt and then some.

But the longer you stood before him in just that towel with your hair dripping and your skin bruised and cut and all beat up he couldn't find the words. Silenced by his own nervousness and fear of rejection. Jake didn't do love, he did flings and moments and possible weeks. But with you? He wanted you forever.

“I just came–” He stumbled over the words he wanted to say as Jake looked down at his feet. “I uh–came to say that–uh.” Jake knew about female rage, he’d seen it when his sister lost her fiance in a car accident just after they just celebrated their engagement party. He’d also seen it when Phoenix was passed up on a promotion because she'd mentioned that there would be a possibility in the near distant future that she and her partner Alex wanted to start trying for a family and the Navy wasn't ready to dish out maternity pay for her.

But in all the times he’d seen female rage play out in all kinds of ways before him he’d never been on the receiving end of that rage. That clear pain that couldn't be held back. That couldn't be contained any longer. That needed an escape.

“Oh for fuck sake Jake just say it and get it over with!” You hissed as you stepped back and turned around to try and cool off before you really lost your shit at him.

“I'm trying, I just–I can't get my words out, but–”

“Come on, Lie to me and tell me you love me.” You turned around with a look in your eye Jake had never seen before. “Tell me just how fucking hard I am to love!” It was painful to watch you unravel knowing he'd caused you to spiral.

“It's not hard to love you.” Jake panicked as he stepped past the threshold of your doorframe. The closer he tried to get to you the more space you put between you and him. “Y/n, you aren't hard to love.”

“Go on Seresin, do it–” You hissed like you hadnt just heard him as tears started freely falling down your cheeks, still holding the towel around your body. “Lie to me again and make me feel like the piece of shit I am.”

“Y/n–”

“Do you love me or not?” You asked as all your rage just boiled over when you were given no response. Watching as Jake tried to say something, anything. “ANSWER ME!” Sobbing ensued as you couldn't hold back what you’d been trying to high for the longest time. “ANSWER ME JAKE!”

“I LOVE YOU!” He shouted way louder than you’d ever heard him scream before. It made you jolt as Jake took strides towards you, cupping your cheeks in his hands to keep you from moving any further away from him. Holding your stunned gaze as he looked down and you looked up. “I love you, do you hear me goddammit?” He asked as he pressed his thumb against your bottom lip. Softly caressing the slip you wore. “I love you and I'm not lying, or just saying that because I know it's what you want to hear.” He cooed as you started to feel the heat rising in your chest. “Y/n Brawler Abbott I love you and I'm so sorry I haven't been able to get my shit together enough to say it until now.” You were crying, sobbing as Jake walked you back towards your living room. You let him guide you as you cried between his palms. “You drive me crazy, you’re so funny and brilliant and you could kick my ass at anything ever and i don’t know why but i’m so obsessed with you it scares me away because i’ve never fucking loved anyone before you.”

“You’re just saying what I want you to say–” You mumbled softly through tears. Jake finally got you where he wanted you, the lounge, sitting down before reaching out to grab the throw blanket for you. Guiding you to sit on his lap before he was wrapping you up. Covering you so you felt like you could drop the towel and just be in the moment with him. “You don't really love me, Hangman, there's nothing to love.”

“You were the only person who saw I was in trouble.” Jake was quick to explain as you let your forehead rest against his. “Why were you looking huh?”

“Because I wanted it to be me.” You cried. “Every girl who you've ever taken home, every girl who's ever gotten a chance to touch you, be with you, I wanted to be her so fucking bad but you never saw me.”

“I saw you every second of every day.” It was the truth, Jake saw his moment and took it before you could think about the fact he’d taken so long to work up the courage to do it. He connected his lips with yours because surely you didn't have a concussion anymore or even at all. “I was just too afraid to let you in because if you broke my heart like you broke that girl's nose so help me god i’d never recover.”

“There's a real big part of me who doesn't believe you, Seresin.” You admitted as you took his lips hostage again, your hands to car through the back of his hair and nap of his neck. “But since we’re airing everything out? I love you so much that that girls lucky she's not breathing through a tube right now.'' Jake knew you were holding back–it wasn't just a threat you made when you said next time you wouldn't go so easy. But a promise.

Jake smiled up at you, just taking in the sight of you because he’d never seen you look so vulnerable with all your walls down. He wasn't about to take this moment for granted. No way no how. Kissing you softly and ever so slowly until you were pulling away for air.

“Some people never find out what they have Y/n, only ever find out what they had and I could've been one of them. I know that– and I don't know if I still won't be one of them and that thought hangs around my neck like a millstone.”

“Jake–” You whispered against his lips.

“You're my refuge Brawler, the best person I know and I need you to see that the only one I let down more than you is me.”

“You could never let me down Jake.” You cooed, sitting up just to drink in the sight of him beneath you. Still only covered by the throw blanket he’d given you. “But just for the record, you don't have to be afraid to tell me how you feel ever.”

“Such a conflict diamond.” He beamed up at you because Jake knew he got his girl. Finally, the word seemed to spin again when you smiled back at him. A sight he’d missed far too much. “Just hope we can figure out a way to settle this whole mess before it goes to trial, can't lose you as my wingwoman just as i get you as my girl.”

“So I'm your girl now am I?” You taunted, Jake knew the second your lips curled up into a mischievous smile that he was going to have to work every day of his life to keep you pumped full of the love you deserved to revel in. pulling you down into his chest as he wrapped his arms around you tight. Kissing your cheek.

“You've always been my Brawler, and will always be my girl.”

#jake seresin angst #jake seresin fanfiction #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin #jake hangman imagine #top gun fanfiction #top gun jake seresin #jake seresin x f!reader #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x y/n

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samwisethewitch · 2 years

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May 2022 Update

I just wanted to update you all, since I've been kind of absent from blogging lately. I've got some exciting plans for the summer!

First of all, as you may have noticed, I have a new website. The WordPress blog just felt a little bit dated, so I decided to do something a bit more modern. The old blog is still up, but it is strictly an archive now.

I'm also offering tarot readings online for the first time! You can book a reading on the website, or on Etsy. I'll be using the Queer Tarot for all of my readings.

AND, I have a merch store now! You can get T-shirts, tank tops, hoodies, and tote bags in two different fat-positive witchy designs, in sizes ranging from XS to 5XL. You can also get Canvas prints of my art! I have big plans for the store -- I've got several designs that I'm currently testing, and I have something special planned for Pride Month in June.

On a more personal note, this is the last week of my undergrad. As of the day of this post, I've taken all but one of my final exams for my last semester. Hopefully this means more free time and more spoons for the things I actually enjoy doing.

And the biggest news: I'm working on a second book! I'm about 1/5 of the way through the first draft, and my goal is to finish the first draft this summer, edit in the fall, and hopefully start submitting to publishers by the end of the year. I had a really positive experience self-publishing my first book and would absolutely self-publish again, but I feel like this new project would do better as a collaboration with a pagan publishing house.

The new book looks at the connection between witchcraft and social activism, specifically the ways race, gender, sexuality, and social class interact with our magical practices and the historic connection between witchcraft and marginalized identities. If you've ever wanted to read a witchcraft book that quotes Karl Marx, this one is for you.

Because I am currently living and breathing antiracism, queer theory, postmodern feminism, and disability justice as I do research for this next book, some of those topics will probably make their way onto this blog. On the other hand, I'll definitely need breaks from reading and writing about how capitalism is killing us, so I'll probably also use this blog and my YouTube channel as a place for lighter subject matter and discussions.

So yeah, that's what's going on with me and what I'm working on right now. Big things are happening!

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motherofdragonflies · 6 months

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THE ELEVATOR GAME: A CHOOSE YOUR OWN ADVENTURE HORROR FIC

Author: bexgowen / @motherofdragonflies

Artist: @xfancyfranart

Written for: @deancashorrorfest

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 88k Warnings/Tags: Major Character Death, Choose Your Own Adventure Style, Psychological Horror, Canon Divergent, Post 15x03, Case Fic Summary:

The game is simple.

Get in an elevator, and follow the rules. If you follow them correctly, the elevator will rise and when the doors open, they will open onto a world that is not your own.

When his brother goes missing after investigating the death of a teenage girl in a hotel in St. Louis, Dean Winchester is dismayed to discover it involved an internet legend called “the Elevator Game”.

He’s even more dismayed when Castiel—who walked away weeks ago and hasn’t been returning Dean’s calls—shows up, also looking for Sam.

Dean doesn’t want to work with Castiel, and Castiel doesn’t seem thrilled about working with him, either. Can they put their differences aside when they discover that Sam disappeared after playing the Elevator Game? Will Dean and Castiel play the game and travel to the Other World themselves? Will they find Sam before it's too late?

The choice, dear reader, is yours. You are in control of the story.

But choose wisely, for once you play the Elevator Game, things may never be the same again.

Link to Fic | Link to Art

#deancashorrorfest #deancas fan fic #destiel fan fic #destiel fic #choose your own adventure #horror #the elevator game

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thefallennightmare · 1 year

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Moment of Weakness-nine

*credit to whoever created the gif. found on google/Pinterest *

Pairings: Mob!Bucky Barnes x reader

Warnings: language, smut, angst, fluff, affair, cheating, violence.

Summary: Reader is the assistant to New York's most feared mob boss, James Buchanan Barnes. He had the picture-perfect life: status in the mob, friends, and beautiful wife. So why can't he keep his mind and eyes off of reader?

Authors Notes: Happy Birthday Bucky Barnes. We all love you <3

Tags(open): @splendidreads @sebsgirl71479 @mdpplgtz03 @pattiemac1 @unaxv @elizacusi-blog @alana4610 @broadwaybabe18 @themayzittcha @playboystark @raajali3 @ozwriterchick @ragamuffin285 @screamingdying @themorningsunshine @kenziekugler22 @calwitch @sebastianstansqueen @stanaddict @stucky-simp03 @sleyeveryday @loustan90 @lyra-black13 @valsworldofcreativity @cjand10 @tesseract69 @batprincess1013 @subwaysurf45 @arsonfrogger @winters1917 @yoruse @5moremin @lipstickandtanqueray @mandijo17

The office was eerily quiet, almost as if I was the only one here but I knew that wasn’t the truth. The closed door behind me said that he was inside with Steve, as they had their morning private meeting with each other. I didn’t let my mind wander too far from the work in front of me because I knew I would be here all day and night if I allowed that to happen.

I had taken the last few days off after my night with Bucky because I couldn’t face him, afraid that my job was on the line. Thankfully it wasn’t, Bucky made sure of that when I returned to work this morning. We still haven’t seen each other, me coming in while he was in that said meeting with Steve, so I could breathe for a little while. He had a list placed on my desk this morning of what he needed me to do.

-Pick up dry cleaning-done

-pick up lunch order

-reply to emails-currently working on

-file away papers

-meet with me to talk about what you missed the last few days.

The last thing on the list I had purposely avoided, not wanting to face Bucky yet. He could have actually wanted to talk about what I missed, work wise, or he could want to talk about what happened between us. And that, I wasn't ready for.

While I was home, “sick”, all I could think about was that night we shared. Bare, sweaty, bodies moving in tangent with each other. Our movements almost like a slow dance with our moans acting as the music. My entire body felt on fire as those flash images crossed my mind and I bit my lip, wanting to feel him inside me again. Bucky’s lips kissing every inch of skin and leaving his marks all over, days later they still shined bright.

I did my best to cover them, however, the one on my neck was a bit hard to cover.

The door clicked open behind me and I stood straighter, trying to block out those memories and continued my work.

“Hey, you’re back.”

I looked up towards Steve and gave him a smile, the guilt eating away at my heart. I knew how he felt about me and with how close we became, I couldn’t stop the way I felt so guilty with what happened.

“Uh, yeah. I had a small cold but feeling a lot better,” I lied.

Steve smiled while slicking his hair out of his face. “Well, let me know when you head out to grab lunch and I’ll come with you.”

“Sure,” I nodded. “Oh, Sam is in your office waiting for you. Mentioned something about an errand you two had to run.”

Steve gave my shoulder a squeeze before walking into his own office and left the door opened ajar slightly.

“Y/N?”

I turned in my chair towards Bucky and my heart began to beat so fast that I couldn’t catch my breath as he stared at me with his bright eyes.

“Need something?” I asked.

“How are you feeling?”

Bucky knew that I had been lying about why I stayed home but didn’t bother to mention it, only keeping up my ruse.

“Better, thanks for letting me take some time off,” I said.

He nodded while stuffing his hands deep into his pockets. “Of course. Do you think maybe we could talk?”

I quickly shook my head. “I’ve got a lot of work to catch up on. Can we do it later?”

Bucky’s shoulders fell but he nodded again. “Sure. Over lunch?”

“Yeah, lunch,” I muttered before turning back to my work and did my best to ignore Bucky’s intense eyes.

With Bucky back behind his own desk, I didn’t miss the way he kept gazing out towards me every so often. There even had been a few times that our eyes would lock and I quickly averted from it.

Before I knew it, lunch had approached and while I gathered my things to go pick up everyone’s order from the deli down the block, the door to the building opened and her happiness radiated the walls and I sucked in a breath, not thinking I would have to face her yet.

“Natasha, hi,” I forced a smile. “I didn’t know you were coming in today.”

Her smile only amplified her beauty and I felt jealous because I knew that I alone couldn’t be enough for Bucky. What we had was a one time thing, it would never be more than that.

“I’m only here for a few minutes and I’m here to see you.”

My heart began to beat faster and I swallowed thickly. “About what?”

Fear set in that she found out about Bucky and I.

“Bucky is having some of his mob friends over tonight and I thought it would be a great way to make it a party. But then I realized it would be rude to not invite you,” Natasha said.

“Oh,” I muttered.

I racked my brain to figure out an excuse not to go tonight. The guilt I felt around her and Bucky had become a sharp knife in my back that I knew if I went tonight, it would only twist it deeper.

“Thank you for the invite but I don’t think I’ll be able to make it,” I lied yet again.

Natasha frowned. “I understand, I thought we could use this night to get to know each other better. You’re working with my husband and I realized that I know nothing about you.”

My brow raised at her voice. There was something hidden underneath the tone that I didn’t quite understand.

Was she jealous that I worked so close with Bucky?

Did she think something was going on between us?

Or did she know exactly what happened and she was using tonight to call me out on it?

“Ready for lunch?” Steve walked out of his office but gave Natasha his attention. “Hey, Nat. Need me to bring anything tonight?”

She nodded towards me. “Maybe Y/N. I’ve invited her but she said she can’t make it.”

I bit my cheek at her persistence.

“Yeah, I’ve got a lot of laundry to catch up on from being sick the last few days.”

Steve gave me a look and I knew he saw straight through my lie.

“Or maybe she has a hot date tonight,” Natasha observed while pointing to her neck.

I quickly rubbed a hand over the mark on my own neck, embarrassed that she had noticed.

Steve shifted on his feet. “Do you?”

“It’s nothing,” I shook my head while avoiding his gaze.

Natasha snickered. “If you have a hook up planned tonight, Y/N, that’s all you have to say. You don’t need to lie. By the looks of it, it seemed like a good time.”

“I should really go pick up our lunch,” I spoke.

I refused to stand there any longer and get grilled by Natasha on what happened with Steve watching me with hurt in his eyes.

As if the Gods above wanted to torture me even more, Bucky walked out of his office and looked between the three of us, questioning in his own eyes.

“What’s going on?” He wondered.

Natasha placed a kiss on his cheek and I shifted uncomfortably, something Steve noticed immediately. He looked between Bucky and I, his lips falling open slightly but said nothing.

“I wanted to invite Y/N tonight but she said she can’t come. I think she has a date planned and she’s keeping it a secret,” Natasha filled Bucky in.

“Oh, you do?” Bucky questioned with brows raised.

I rubbed at the mark on my neck. “I don’t.”

“So come tonight! Steve will be there to keep you company,” Natasha nudged Steve’s shoulder.

He refused to meet my gaze at first but eventually looked at me. “It’ll be more fun if you come.”

“Steve’s right,” Bucky spoke.

My tired gaze fell on him once more.

“Come by tonight, even if it’s for an hour. Nat put this huge party together and it would mean a lot to her,” Bucky continued.

I gnawed on my lip and reluctantly agreed. “Of course, for Natasha.”

She beamed brightly while she clapped her hands together. “Perfect, it starts at eight and Steve will send you the address.”

“Wonderful,” I grumbled as I gathered my things.

I didn’t bother to wait for Steve, who made no effort to follow, as I hurriedly walked away from the three of them, Bucky continuing to watch me intently.

The bass from the outdoor speakers vibrated against the bones in my body as I took a small sip of my drink, eyes scanning around the small party. My interpretation of small was different than Natahsa’s. There had to be at least of a hundred people in the backyard of their mansion, not counting whoever was inside.

I arrived almost twenty minutes ago and even with one drink in, I was ready to leave. This was the last place I wanted to be tonight. Steve wasn’t anywhere in sight and neither was Bucky. I knew no one here and felt so out of place.

“Thinking of a way to escape?”

I turned towards the deep voice and breathed in relief.

“I’d be lying if I said this was my kind of scene,” I admitted to Steve.

He took a large drink from the beer in his hand. “Let’s give it an hour then we can head to my place for pizza and a movie?”

A smile broke out on my face. “I would really like that.”

We talked, just the two of us, for a while and it helped keep my mind from wandering where Bucky was. I could have asked Steve but didn’t want to ruin the lightness of our conversations. At some point, Sam came up to join us and for the first time in a few days, I felt myself again.

Goosebumps pricked over my skin as I felt someone staring and I peered over my shoulder and felt my breath hitch at the sight. Bucky was standing a few feet from us and watching my every movement with a small smile pulling at his lips. His jacket looked warm and inviting, almost pulling me towards him, but I kept my feet planted firmly by Steve and Sam. Even with his smile, the sadness in Bucky’s eyes made my heart fall.

“I need another drink,” I said suddenly, hoping that the change of position would stop the burning I felt in my core as I continued to look at Bucky.

I didn’t bother to wait for Steve and Sam and scurried over towards the outdoor bar and gave my order with a smile. As I waited, fingers drumming over the wood, a body slid up behind me. Warm breath fanned over my ear and I shivered with desire with his deep voice.

“You look beautiful.”

I did my best to hold my composure by ignoring his compliment.

“Thank you,” I smiled at the bartender as he handed me my drink.

I went to walk past Bucky but his vibranium fingers grasped at my hand to stop me. Our fingers linked for a few seconds before I removed them.

“Don’t,” I warned in a hush tone in case others around us could hear.

“Can we talk, please?” He begged.

I motioned towards his right hand which held a cigarette. “Since when do you smoke?”

He sighed. “Only when I’m stressed.”

“What could you possibly be stressed out about?” I scoffed.

Bucky nodded behind me to Steve and I gave him a firm poke into his chest. “You do not have the right to get jealous of me talking with Steve. I told you that nothing happened between us.”

“I know,” Bucky said.

“Also, I don’t want to be with anyone who smokes.” I stated with arms crossed.

He tossed it to the ground, crushing the cigarette underneath his boot. “All the more reason to quit. But can we talk in private?”

I shook my head. “There’s nothing to talk about, Bucky. What happened shouldn’t have, you’re married. It was a moment of weakness between us. That’s it.”

“Not for me,” Bucky disagreed.

“This cannot happen again,” I pointed between us. “You need to focus on Natasha.”

“Doll,” he breathed. “You can’t tell me that night didn’t mean something to you. All I can think about is you and how I want to kiss you again.”

“Don’t!” I seethed, gaining attention from a few people around us.

I looked around and cursed under my breath, realizing that this wasn’t the place or time to talk about this, even if I didn’t want to.

“I’m out of here,” I muttered under my breath, walking away from him.

A bit later, I stared at myself in the bathroom mirror, taking deep breaths to calm myself. This was the main reason why I didn’t want to come tonight. I knew that Bucky would want to talk and I’d eventually fall back into him because my feelings for him were that intense and deep.

“Get a hold of yourself, Y/N. He’s a married man.” I groaned to myself as I shut off the light, leaving the bathroom.

Suddenly a small yell from my lips as I felt myself being pulled into a dark room, body pinned to the wall behind me. Even in the darkness, I noticed the bright eyes immediately and let out a deep breath, knowing that he was the reason I was in the room.

“Bucky-” I started.

I was cut off by his lips attacking mine hungrily and after I froze for a second, I melted into him and both of our lips moved together. I moaned into his mouth when his tongue pressed onto mine, my hands snacking around his neck to bring him closer.

His arms rested underneath the swell of my ass and lifted me into his arms, legs wrapping around him. I felt him leading me towards somewhere in the room and my body was gently placed on what I assumed was a couch, Bucky never breaking the kiss. There was a hint of cigarette smoke on his breath but it was overpowered by the beer I had tasted on his lips.

Bucky’s hips rutted into mine, the hardness of his cock pressing into my thigh, and I bit his lip, wanting more.

“Stop,” I pushed him away, realizing what we were doing.

He cupped my cheek but I rolled out from under him, standing to my feet.

“God, why did you do that!” I bellowed.

Bucky leaned back into the couch with a sigh. “I can’t stop thinking about you, Y/N. The first time I tasted you, I needed more.”

“I told you, you can’t! It’s not right!” I yelled, the confines of the room we were in blocking it out from whoever was outside.

“You want this too, doll. The way you kissed me said it all,” Bucky raised to his feet and reached for me.

I smacked his hands away. “Of course I fucking want it, Bucky! All I want is you but I can’t because again, you’re fucking married!”

He ran a hand over his chin. “Please stop reminding me.”

“It’s the truth!”

Bucky’s lips were on mine yet again but this time, I was stronger and pushed him off, smacking him in the chest.

“Stop!”

“I can’t,” Bucky almost whined. “I can’t stay away from you, Y.N.”

I stared at him while my chest rose and fell with each deep breath as the decision mulled in my mind.

“You need to try.”

I left him behind, even if my mind was screaming to go back to him.

#mob!bucky barnes #mob!bucky barnes x reader #mob!bucky barnes and reader #mob!bucky barnes x yn #mob!bucky barnes and yn #mob!bucky barnes reader insert #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes and reader #sebastian stan #moment of weakness-mob!bucky barnes

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georgiapeach30513 · 2 years

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Kinktober 2022, Day 14: Non-Con

Use My Body

Summary: Jax was tired of waiting on you

Pairings: Jax Teller X Reader

Rating: explicit

Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content, drugging, smut, PIV sex, non-con, unprotected sex, dirty talk, retraints, mentions of a secret society, mentions of a free use relationship, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 1.5K

Kinktober 2022 Masterlist

*divider created by @firefly-graphics

You give you give Jax a look from across the bar. Looking at him over your open glass, and he barely looked your way. He had been coming here for quite some time, but you couldn’t get him to pay enough attention. “He’s looking this way again,” one of the girls informs you, but you didn’t miss it.

You never miss anything Jax did. Always watching the man who wanted to be shy, but it was only with you. You wanted him to make his move in any way possible. You did not care, you wanted all of Jackson Teller.

He nods over to one of his buddies, before fiddling around with his pocket. Those long legs carrying him over to you. Sitting beside you with a smile, but he hesitates to speak. Pretending to drop something, you lean over on the floor, not missing how he leans in, too. Opening up a little baggy to sprinkle in your drink, while Sam turns a blind eye. Glancing around the bar to see if anyone noticed him, but no one ever notices their group. They were part of an elite group that could damn near get away with murder. They had chosen their members wisely.

You grab up your pen, giving Jax a quick smile, and take a sip from your drink. “Fancy you being here, Teller.”

“I feel like we’ve got either the best timing or the worst. I’m not always here. It just seems that way because I’m here when you are.”

“Maybe that’s not an accident,” you note raising up your eyebrow to take another drink. “I’ve been waiting on you to actually say anything.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because I know,” he bites at his lip. It was impossible for you to know. No one knew, it was rumors. “I’m ready for you Jackson,” you close your eyes slowly, opening them to see things in a bit of a fog, and you giggle. “Ready for you and your…your friends.”

You gulp as you feel yourself start to sway. “Jax?”

“I’m not good at talking, Puppy,” there was always nicknames. Was he giving you one? Was this it? The beginning of your new life?

Tilting off your chair, Jax catches your body. “There, there. You wanna go back to my place?”

“Place? Meeting?”

“Oh, you’ve been following us, huh? Who are you?”

“Clark? Daily?”

“Another fucking reporter. I hit the jackpot,” he gives you a low chuckle as he catches your body in his own. “Thanks Sammy. Looks like she’s going back to headquarters.”

“Easy on her,” Sam nods at him.

“Says the man with a pain and blood kink.”

“At least I can talk to a girl without drugging her,” Jax gives a shrug. His lips kissing up your neck, while you’re just limp in his arms. His low voice shushing you as he carries your body out. Letting anyone that was asking know you had too much to drink.

“I’ve got a place nice and warm for you, Puppy. We’ll take such good care of you.”

“We?”

“Oh, you just thought you knew,” Jax says on your shoulder, making your eyes roll in the back of your head. You were in for a ride. “Looks like I captured you though.”

“M-m-myth.”

Jax responds by laughing, shoving your body into a car. His hands pet over your face, before he closes your eyes. He did not want you to know where you were going. And you couldn’t fight the sleep that was overtaking you. Leaving you completely vulnerable to Jax.

Jax clears his throat, and you open your eyes quickly. Blinking the rapidly to try and make sense of your surrounding to find Jax at the foot of your bed. He takes off his cut slowly. Gently laying it dow, before he starts removing his own clothes. You look down at yourself, and much to your dismay, you’re completely nude. “Jax…Jax please don’t.”

“You sought me out though,” his voice having an edge of annoyance, and much more authority than the night before. “You wanted in,” he holds his hand wide, and looks around the room. “You’re in, Puppy.”

“No. No, I didn’t. It was research. Clark left….”

“We’ll deal with Clark. If he wasn’t a legacy,” he grits his teeth, much more annoyed than before. “He had his wife gifted to him. In modern times. She and Clark were made for each other. Bred just for him. But the rest of us…Do you realize how hard it is to capture an Omega?”

“Fiction.”

“No, darling Puppy, you are a submissive. Trying to offer yourself up to me on a fucking platter. Your dresses got tighter, shorter, and lower cut. You wanted my attention, you got it. Now here you are, in the belly of this machine, surrounded by Alpha males. You’ll have a good life. Have everything you could ever want, after the initiation.”

“Jax, please, let me go.”

“In time, you’ll be begging me to stay with you,” he walks closer to the bed, letting his pants drop to the floor. His hungry eyes looking over your body, and you pull the blanket up your body. “Nu-uh. Show me. Show me just how fucking wet you are. You got enough information from Clark’s files, what did it say about me?”

“You’re shy,” he nods at you, slowly pulling the sheets down your body, and off the bed.

“What else?”

“You need…Jax don’t.”

“I have to get the girl out of the bar somehow. It’s okay. I slip you a little something in your drink. And out of all the fucking people you could go after, you chose me. I was just there. Fell for your womanly wiles. And now, I’m going to give you what you most desire. Spread your legs, and show me how wet you are, or you can endure the punishment.”

“No. Jax, please don’t.”

“Do I look like I’m messing around? Do I look like I won’t punish you? Spread those pretty little legs,” having nowhere else to hide, you spread your legs, and you’re ashamed to say you are in fact drenched. Jax moans at the sight, pulling off his boxers, and he fists his length before crawling over his body.

“No, Jax. I’ll do anything.”

“And I want you. You wanted me. Now, you’re my Puppy. He looks over in the corner with a smirk, “Smile for the camera sweet Puppy. They’re always watching.”

You look over to the corner to see a flashing red light, and start sobbing as Jax lines himself up. Smacking at your blotchy face when you try and close your legs, “If you didn’t want it, why so wet?” His voice dark and imposing when he pushes through, and bottoms out in one solid thrust.

You yelp, grabbing at his back, and giving him a little scratch. Jax hisses through his teeth, thrusting back into you. “Jax!”

“It feels nice, huh?” This wasn’t an introduction. It wasn’t passionate love making, Jax was showing you that he owned you. A nickname as Puppy because he was going to treat you like his sweet girl in front of people, but dominate you completely in the bedroom.

Hard and deep rocks into your warmth as your head knocking on the bed frame, and you give him a satisfied whimper. His eyes steadily and intensely on you, and you start to see stars. “Oh, you’re a new one. You’ll get used to it. You better. Initiation will be rough on you. You won’t be the first one to pass out.”

It scared you. Exhilarated you, and you found yourself enjoying his motions. It was wrong, and so sinful, but there was this underlying kindness to him.

He wasn’t wrong, you sought him out, knowing his schtick. You weren’t his first victim, but there was this jealous part of you that wanted to be the last.

“My god, you’re so tight. I bet men before you were minute men. So vanilla,” his hands move to grip the bed frame as he stabs into your body. Holding on tight, you just enjoy the ride.

“It’ll eventually become easier to take me, you’ll see. They’ll all see,” he leans over ghosting his lips on your quickly heating up skin. He was a god. Fucking into you so good, your orgasm comes on fast. Your whole body succumbing to Jax’s incessant need to claim you.

Gripping on tight and clenching your teeth, while Jax just chuckles above you. “Thatta girl. Try to deny I don’t own this pussy,” another hard and deep push into you, his tip tickling at your cervix, and you yell out his name. His seed spurting deep into your womb, and you were a goner. “Who owns this pussy, and this Puppy.”

“You do,” Jax gives you a quick smile, with deep staggered breaths. “Took you long enough, you asshole.”

“What?”

“Fuck, that was amazing. Did you touch me while I was passed out?” Jax shakes his head confused. “What? I always thought that your women were basically used as the members personal fleshlights. So is that a myth? Jax, I want you to use me.”

“You…you knew?” You give him a head nod, “You read to much, you little freak.”

“Am I still your Puppy?” You pout up at him.

“Yes. I doubt any other woman can handle me.”

“Good. Now, I want you to randomly drug me again. And I want to feel that you’ve used my body. Make me so sore, and me wonder what exactly you did to me. That’s what I want. Free use, Jax. I am your good little whore Puppy.”

Masterlist

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