Drinkin' My Water, Minding My Biz

She/Her * 31 MasterList

[geminixevans-stan]

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Current Fics:

Found Ch. 1

Now that we have that out of the way… Have fun! So happy that you decided to visit ♥

[boxofbonesfic]

Title: O U T S I D E [2 of 10]

Pairing: Ex-Con!Curtis x Southern!Reader

Summary: Your older brother is out of jail and back home, but old habits die hard, and you find yourself caught between what you need, and who can give it to you when Curtis Everett starts hanging around again. 

Warnings: Obsessive Behavior, Possessive Behavior, Mild Stalking, Recreational Drug Use, Intimidation, Crime, Gang Activity, References to Past Physical and Emotional Abuse, Murder, more tags to be added

The words on the page in front of you shift and blur together before your eyes, and you rub at them tiredly. You’ve been at it since early afternoon, the impressive pile of your textbooks and binders serving as a testament to your attempts at dedication. But you’ve taken woefully few notes, and your attention remains split between what you should be doing and what is going on downstairs. With Damien in the house it feels like concentration is impossible, your mind returning to speculation like a dog with an old bone. 

You’ve seen precious little of him since your mother’s party, settling into a tentative schedule of purposeful avoidance. He doesn’t seem to rise from the dead until late afternoon, sometimes not until after you’ve left for class if you’re lucky, which means you don’t see him at all. His firmly locked door, though, is a constant reminder of his presence every time you pass by on your way to the bathroom, regardless of whether you see him or not. Sometimes you can hear him, speaking in hushed tones on the phone you know your mother is paying for. 

As you attempt to get back to studying, the doorbell rings. It irritates and jars you, sounding three more times before you realize that you’re going to have to answer it yourself despite both your mother and brother being home. Downstairs, she’s wrapped up in her favorite blanket, the T.V. blaring and the air conditioner blasting behind her. I bet she can’t even fucking hear it. It’s barely past one, but there’s an empty bottle of grocery store wine on the table, and the glass in her hand is dangerously full as she lifts it to her lips. 

Jealously you bask in the cool air for a minute or two before the insistent knock makes you turn away from the scene before you and reach for the doorknob. 

On your porch is a man you don’t recognize, dark hair pulled back away from his face. He’s broad, like Curtis, but not quite as tall, the expression on his face less than inviting. There’s a disappointed set to his features, maybe in the press of his lips or the narrowing of his eyes, and he doesn’t try to hide it. 

“D here?” He asks, cocking his head. The New York accent is so strong it practically bowls you over. “He told me t’ stop by.” You clench your teeth. Of course he did. 

“I’ll go get him. Who should I say’s here?” 

“Tell him Bucky’s here.” You make to close the door, but Bucky’s foot finds its way between it and the frame. “Oh, and Doll?” He grins. “He told me I could wait inside.” You leave him in the entryway, fists clenched as you storm back into the house. Damien’s door is closed, like it always seems to fucking be, so you rap your fist against the painted wood hard, and then two more times for good measure. In the split second before the door flies open, there’s a muffled curse that reaches you from inside. 

“What?” He glares down at you irritatedly, blocking the crack in the door with his own body. 

“Bucky’s here.” Damien nods, his expression unreadable. 

“Tell him I’ll be right there.” 

“You tell him yourself, I’m not your fucking errand-boy,” you snap. “He’s in the hallway.” He shifts, crossing his arms. As he does so, you peek into the room around his shoulder. For the briefest of moments you’re allowed a glance inside, clothes everywhere, but the table is clean, with a scale on it. You feel his hand before it touches you, and you move accordingly, taking a step back so his push is a light tap. 

“You’re a fucking asshole.” You shove past him, angry tears burning behind your eyes. The fuck’s he need a scale for? Your mind is racing. He’s dealing again, he has to be—that’s why these people keep coming by the house. It’s worse than fucking dealing—it’s distributing. You swallow hard. The house had been watched for months after Damien had gone in, you remember the unmarked police cars doing rounds on the block, the plainclothes cops following you from home to school to work and back again.

You don’t want that again. 

Mind your business.

You finger the scar beneath your shirt as you close your bedroom door as far as it’ll go before turning on the old A.C. in your room. It sputters a little before the air coming out turns cool. If they can run them downstairs you’re certainly not going to be the only one in the house suffering for the sake of the power bill. You bypass your desk—studying feels more impossible than ever, now—and go straight to your bed, flopping down on it like a ragdoll. 

You know better than to meddle, now. That lesson had been hard learnt but it had been learnt, first on the bathroom floor in agony as the broken bones of your left arm shifted beneath your skin, and again when you had left the hospital. 

Sister or not, you fuck with my shit again and I’ll put you in the goddamn dirt right next to her. 

As much as you hate D, you believe him, too. 

Maybe it’s selfish—but you’re not willing to go through it all over again, to withstand Damien’s rage just to feel righteous. You know how quickly that feeling fades—how quick the pain sets in. Absently you touch your shoulder again. If you press hard enough, you can feel the screws they put in, hard strange metal beneath soft flesh. 

What will he break this time, you wonder, if you’re brave enough to challenge him again? It had felt so good, so right to empty those bags down the toilet and flush them. You remember laughing, wondering if the rats living in the sewer would get high from being in the water. And then the memory of the door slamming open so hard the wall dented, Damien’s voice louder and angrier than you’d ever heard it—

“What the fuck did you do?!”

—

The uniforms at Peach Rings changes every two weeks. This week you’re forced to fend off the rowdy patrons dressed as some type of naughty nurse. Handsy Howard, as the rest of the girls all called him, stands in the wait-station doorway, watching as you adjust the stupid little white hat on your head. 

“What, Howard?” 

“You got sat. Jerry’s here. He wants to see you.” His eyes are glued shamelessly to your ass.  “He asked for you.” 

“Yeah, I get it. Can you move?” Reluctantly he peels his gaze from you, shuffling out of the way with his hands in his pockets. And they better stay there. Candy’s on the floor, halfway to the ceiling in six inch pleasers. It’s 4pm on a Wednesday night, though, so her signature flip-split is performed in front of a practically empty room. The only person sitting there is Jerome—you refuse to call him Jerry no matter how many times he asks—leaned back in his chair like he owns the place. 

You approach him from the side, keeping your posture relaxed and casual. 

“Jerome.” 

“Oh, hiya, Sweets.” He grins at you. “Liking the new uniform?” He cocks his head like he’s genuinely curious about your answer. Like it matters. “I love it.” 

“It’s great. I’ve always wanted to cosplay at work.” You reply flatly. “Can I get you a drink?” 

“Tom Collins.” You narrowly avoid his hands as you bring back his drink from the bar. 

“Hey, watch it or I’ll get you cut off, Jerome!” No jury on earth would convict me. The Wednesday night turn out is fairly pathetic on the best of days, but you end up with a few decent tables that keep you busy, running back and forth. They usually have three girls on—but tonight it’s just you and Bridget in your matching, ridiculous costumes. Your hands are always full, either with drink trays, your order pad, or tugging down your incessantly rolling skirt. 

At the end of the night, you have just shy of two-hundred and fifty bucks to show for your grueling shift, the majority of it in cash so you don’t have to worry about your mother seeing it get deposited into your account before you manage to squirrel it away into your savings. I really should take her off my accounts. I’m not fifteen anymore. You’re usually off early enough on a Wednesday to catch the second-to-last bus, but tonight you’re rushing for the last one, checking your phone nervously, watching the minutes slip away as you perform your list of mundane closing tasks. 

Like he can sense you’re in a hurry, Howard takes his time checking you, peeking slowly beneath each table before lazily signing his name on your check-out slip. 

“Christ, Howard, some of us have places to be,” you mutter, shouldering your bag. 

“Some of us have cars.” He gloats. You watch in real time as the underused lightbulb in the pitifully empty attic behind his eyes fizzle to life. “But, um, if you need a ride…” he doesn’t finish, trailing off hopefully. 

“I’ll walk.” You can feel the heat of his scowl on your back as you make for the door. There is a sliver of power in your rejection, and you cradle it preciously as you step out into the thick, muggy evening. It doesn’t matter that you now have to walk the bus route all the way back to the train station, that you definitely won’t make the last train, that you’ll have to spend money you don’t have on a taxi ride home. 

Handsy Howard won’t have you cornered in his 2004 Lincoln town-car, his greasy hand on your thigh. Not tonight. And if you have it your way, not fucking ever. 

You remind yourself of this after the first thirty minutes of walking, when the sidewalk becomes a narrow strip on the side of the road, and cars honk at you after swerving too close. And again when your shirt begins to stick to your back underneath your backpack and your inner thighs chafe painfully as they rub together. Google maps tells you that you have another hour-and-a-half walk ahead of you, and you feel your eyes water. 

It’s not fucking fair. 

Nothing you’re not used to. 

It’s already long past dark, and when the rumble of rubber wheels on asphalt isn’t drowning out all else, the sound of cicadas singing fills your head. You’ve been walking over an hour when a sleek black sedan slows as it passes you, going the opposite way. You aren’t expecting it to whip around as other cars honk, people leaning out of their windows to cuss at the driver, pulls up next to you. 

“Ladybug what are you doing out here?” Curtis leans down so you can see him through the passenger side window. You watch as he shifts into park, ignoring the angry tide of traffic growing behind him. 

“I—I missed the bus.” You say lamely, shifting your weight from foot to aching foot. “It’s okay, I’m walking to the bus station.” You don’t want to be in a car with Curtis either, 

Curtis laughs. “The hell you are. Get in.” 

“No, really—” Your legs are aching, unused to the strain, feet swollen in your cheap, dollar store sneakers. “I’ll be fine.

“I said get in. Respectfully, it’s not a discussion, Ladybug. Look at you.” You don’t really want to walk another hour in the stifling heat on the unpaved side of the road. At least he’s not Howard. As you waffle, a fresh chorus of honking horns and loud curses makes the decision for you.

“Get in the fucking car, lady, Jesus Christ!” Someone shouts, and your cheeks heat. 

“Fine.” You open the door and get in, holding your bag on your lap both to take up as little space as possible, but also to block access—just in case. The surge of power you’d felt denying Howard evaporates as you sink into the comfortable seat. The interior is as plush as the exterior; leather seats, a dashboard screen, push to start. The air conditioning feels amazing, goosebumps rising on your sweat-damp skin. You remind yourself not to get too comfortable, clutching your bag tighter. 

“You can, um. You can just drop me off at the train station.” 

“Ladybug, you know as well as I do that there’s no trains after midnight.” He glances at you. “Why don’t I just take you home?” 

“I don’t want to inconvenience you.” I don’t want to owe you.

“You’re not an inconvenience.” He’s not looking at you—he can’t, he has to focus on the road—but there’s a deep frown across his features, and it makes an unfamiliar sort of warmth bloom in your chest. 

“Thanks.”

When he drops you off at home the lights are off, and you breathe a sigh of relief. Your mother isn’t the type to wait up for you, and you’re glad you won’t have to entertain her nonsense after the shift you’ve had. You make to get out of the car, but Curtis catches your arm. 

“Wait, Ladybug. Can you get your phone out for me? I want you to have my number.” He smiles sadly. “In case this happens again.” 

“No, no, don’t worry about it, I’ll just—”

“Buckhead to the Five points is a long walk, Sweetheart.” For a second you forget to breathe. Right. Nita’s. Buckhead. 

“I have friends. In the area.” 

“Not very good ones, if they wouldn’t drop you off so you didn’t have to walk miles in the dark on the side of the road.” He replies. “Just take it. What’s the harm?” 

You hesitate before opening your phone. Taking his number doesn’t mean you have to use it, right? Carefully you hand him your phone and allow him to punch in his details. 

“Sent myself a text so I don’t ignore it.” He hands you back your phone. “Just want you to be safe, Ladybug. That’s all.” 

“I told you, no one calls me that anymore.” Neesh is dead and Damien’s a fucking twat. Curtis shrugs. 

“Guess that makes it more special, then, don’t it?” 

Your mother is passed out on the couch, a half-empty bottle of wine teetering dangerously on the edge of the coffee table. Old habits, you suppose. Old habits that seem to flare up when your brother’s around. Damien did tend to bring out the worst in people. Your stomach knots, thinking of Neesh. 

The very worst. 

Your mother mumbles sleepily as you tidy up around her, picking up an empty glass that had rolled under the couch. Could a person change? You turn the thought over and over in your mind as you pull a blanket up over your mother’s sleeping shoulders. Could they change underneath the skin, who they were, are, would be? You don’t know. You straighten up, turning off the television. 

You won’t be around to find out. The ticket from Hartsfield-Jackson to Portland International Airport is already paid for—you’re just finishing out the semester here before you’ve got enough credits to leave and never look back. You’ve got almost enough in your savings for first month’s rent and a deposit, and you’re confident another few weeks at the club will give you the rest. 

Momma and Damien can have each other. 

You’re going to be free. 

—

“And what is that an example of?” Professor Greenbalm looks around the lecture room before her dark eyes fall on you. “Any ideas?” Nervously you finger your pen, clicking it a few times. You regret the action instantly, the noise seeming to echo in the dead quiet. 

“Bias? Uh, media bias?” 

“Yes, exactly.” Oh thank Christ. “And what else?” Your tongue sticks to the roof of your mouth as you flounder. “It draws into question…” She hesitates before shaking her head. “Journalistic Integrity.” 

I should have known that. 

You spend the rest of the lecture shrinking, hoping that you won’t be called on again. You aren’t, but as you gather up your books to leave, Professor Greenbalm calls your name. 

“Stay a minute, will you?” Nervously you wait as the last minute stragglers finally trickle out the door, and the professor runs her fingers through her short, graying brown hair. “A month ago you were at the top of the class.” She says, brows furrowing. “What happened?” You don’t want to give excuses, the bitter ones that linger on your tongue. I had to take more shifts because Momma’s check’s not going as far with three people in the house. Can’t study at a strip club. 

“I know. I’m sorry, It’s just… things are kind of difficult right now. At home.” 

“I just don’t want to see your potential wasted. You could really be something, if you applied yourself. I think a lot of the other students could learn from you. But if this continues…” She shakes her head. “The missed assignments, the late ones. I don’t see how I can recommend you for the fellowship program.” Your chest goes tight. 

“It won’t.” You say quickly. “I’ll deal with it. It’s just—it doesn’t matter. I’ll deal with it.” You hadn’t had any trouble keeping up until Damien came home. The house was never quite peaceful but things had been at least predictable. You’d learned to live with your mother, learned at least how to tiptoe around the living land-mine in your home. Now it’s like there are pitfalls and sand-traps to avoid too, not to mention your increased workload.

“I’ll handle it.” You say again, as if trying to reassure both yourself and your professor. She only sighs. 

“I hope you do.” You blink back frustrated tears, practically tasting Professor Greenbalm’s disappointment. It’s chokingly bitter. You’re tempted briefly to stay, to plead your case, but you know it won’t help.

You blink hard, forcing back the angry tears that threaten to leak down your cheeks as you flee the lecture hall. The bathroom is only a few minutes walk but you barely make it before you begin to cry. You don’t even check if it’s empty, locking yourself in a stall before sitting down on the closed lid. The ability to cry silently is one you’ve perfected, quieting the gasping sobs as you clutch yourself. 

It’s the first time you’ve cried since Damien’s been home, the first time you really let yourself feel it, the raw anger, the rage. He never should have been let back inside in the first place. 

How could you do this to me Momma? How?

Before long you’re gasping for air, quiet trembling breaths that leave you aching. He’d hurt you so bad, and she just… she didn’t care. 

She’d never cared. 

You don’t know how long you sit there, but you emerge with puffy, bloodshot eyes and a runnyYo nose. The two girls at washing their hands at the sinks are gracious as you splash water onto your face, sniffling. 

“Is it a man?” The blonde asks, shaking her head. You accept her tissue with a stiff nod. “It’s always a fucking man.” 

Outside, the sticky Atlanta summer settles over you like a humid blanket, and you wonder if you have enough in your checking account to uber home. You don’t have to do mental math very long, though, because the sound of a horn nearly makes you drop your phone. 

“Need a ride, Ladybug?”

to be continued…

[geminixevans-stan]

The more I learn about the brother and reader… the more I want his head bust to the white meat. Her mom didn’t even do shit but she’s treating reader like a second hand stepchild. But that’s typical of boy moms. Curtis seems like he’s being really nice but I know you 😂 Reader is either about to go through it or heads are about to roll. Reader def needs to take that lady off her accounts ASAP because I feel like the brother is going to do something and reader’s money is about to be gone!

[boxofbonesfic]

Title: O U T S I D E [1 of 10]

Pairing: Ex-Con!Curtis x Southern!Reader

Summary: Your older brother is out of jail and back home, but old habits die hard, and you find yourself caught between what you need, and who can give it to you when Curtis Everett starts hanging around again. 

Warnings: Obsessive Behavior, Possessive Behavior, Mild Stalking, Recreational Drug Use, Intimidation, Crime, Gang Activity, References to Past Physical and Emotional Abuse, Murder, more tags to be added

A/N: hear me out—just hear me the hell out—

No. Fucking no. 

You can see the car parked in the driveway from down the block, as soon as you round the corner. Foolish, fragile hope flutters in your chest, the hope that you might be wrong. That the big, black Dodge sitting just behind your mother’s beat up Toyota is someone else’s. In someone else’s yard. But with every heavy step down the busy street it curdles into resignation. 

He’s parked badly, the truck askew in the driveway like a backslash. You walk around it, your shoulder aching as you readjust your bag. The front door’s open, the way it always is this time of year, and the smell of cooking food wafts gently through the screen door. The air outside is thick, wet, and stifling—Atlanta summer. You’re sweating as you dart up the stairs. Even though it’s only five minutes from the bus stop to the house, your shirt sticks uncomfortably to your back, your thighs chafing where your shorts end. 

Inside, a large pair of men’s loafers lay across the mat, equally as crooked as the truck outside. Voices and laughter sound from the kitchen, buoyed by the scent of honey and cornbread, and the muddy-water smell of catfish. You resist the urge to straighten his shoes, to fix them like you fix every-fucking-thing-else—

You don’t. 

I could just go upstairs. You can probably make it past the kitchen without being seen. Just pretend he’s not even here. You can’t, though, your feet refuse to carry you past, like they know you need the confirmation. Need to see. 

Your mother’s back is to you. She’s bent low over the stove, a long filet of catfish held in her cornmeal-crusted fingers. It’s even hotter here in the kitchen than it is outside, but your mother is old-school; the air conditioners down here are for company and for show—“not for you kids to run up my damn power bill”. 

Damien is seated at the head of the table like a king. His feet are propped up on another chair, arms pillowed behind his head. He looks comfortable, too comfortable, like he belongs there when you know he doesn’t. Not in the fucking slightest.

“Baby, you like your fish fried hard, don’t you?” Your mother’s bourbon smooth drawl rounds out the edges of her words and elongates her syllables with a warm twang. “Your plate’s almost ready.” 

Your stomach turns. He’s not supposed to fucking be here when I’m here. That’s the fucking deal. Your tongue is practically burning with the rebuke, but you swallow it instead, and the words burn all the way down. More respect, that’s what you need, she’d tell you, more flies with honey than vinegar. 

“Momma.” She jumps, turning around like you’d bitten her instead of just said her name. “D.” Damien grins at you, sitting straight up and dropping his feet to the hardwood floor with a loud thump. “Momma we talked about this—”

“How you doin’, Squirt?” He’s all smiles, all warmth as he rushes you, pulling you into an uncomfortably tight hug you don’t have time to return before he lets go again.

“Aren’t you happy to see your brother?” Your mother asks over her shoulder. “He’s been gone so long.” You were supposed to have my fucking back. The words pass unspoken between you as her expression turns pleading. Please keep the peace, her face says in the silence as you stare at the two of them. Don’t make a scene. “Your uncles are all coming over. To celebrate.” 

You glance at the pile of catfish, the bowls of greens and seasoned rice—it’s  enough to feed a small army. 

“Oh.”

 It’s all you can dig up from beneath the glass-sharp shards of her betrayal. You’d talked about it, had a plan—no one was supposed to contact Damien. No one was supposed to let him back in. 

Your brother squeezes your shoulder, laughing. “Good to see you too, Squirt.” You want to pull away from him, the truth burning in your lungs with the desire to be exhaled right into his smug face. 

I wish they put you away forever.

“Hi.” He goes in for a hug and you turn your body to the side, so that it sloughs awkwardly off of you. “What are you doing here?” 

“Oh, don’t be like that,” He says. “Thought you’d be glad to see me.” 

“When did you get out?” 

“Six weeks ago.” Six weeks. That’s all the time it had taken to get back into Momma’s head—to her heart. Six weeks to forget. 

“Oh.” He claps you on your shoulder—the bad one. It feels like his fingers linger on the raised scar beneath your t-shirt, but you don’t know if you imagined it or not, if it’s a warning—a reminder. 

“That all you got for your big brother?” Damien smiles. It doesn’t reach his eyes. “Things will be different this time. Better.” You swallow, tasting the bitterness of his lie before answering with one of your own. 

“Okay.” 

— 

The roof is still your only private space, given that the door to your room hasn’t locked properly since you were twelve. Tonight is much the same, as  your brother’s “Welcome back from prison, you piece of shit” party is still raging on beneath you. At least up here, the noise from your drunk uncles playing dominoes and cards is drowned out by the general Friday-night block-shenanigans, which is honestly preferable. 

You exhale a thick cloud of smoke from your nostrils, and it spirals up into the dark sky before disappearing. 

Just have to make it until August. Just two more months. 

The joint dulls your feelings of betrayal and rage until they’re minor annoyances, and not all-consuming the way they had been as you’d been forced to smile and tell your brother how much you’d missed him. 

Like a hole in the fucking head. 

When you’ve smoked it down to the filter, you flick it into the gutter, where it sparks and fizzles out against the decaying leaves filling it. Just another two months, and you’ll be in Portland. You’ve already put up with Damien for twenty-five years—what’s another two months? You slide down from the roof onto the little outcropping outside your window—you refuse to call that one by one rectangle of nothing a balcony. Your room is exactly as you’d left it, your father’s old amp in front of the door to keep it shut. 

It’s one of the only things you plan on bringing with you. 

Somehow, even with the door closed, your whole room still reeks like cigarette smoke. Which means Leonard’s down there smoking again. You grimace. There’s no use in chastising him—any of them. Your mother had agreed to no more smoking in the house—just like she’d agreed to no more Damien in the house. 

Respect your elders. Don’t go telling grown folks what to do. Your mother’s irritated voice rings in your head. It doesn’t matter that you’re more than grown yourself, not to them. You grab the worn pair of headphones hanging on your bedpost, and settle them snugly over your ears. The music quiets instantly, and you bask in the near-silence.  

Two months.

—

The air still smells like stale cigarettes when you finally roll out of bed late the next morning, the house eerily silent. When you venture downstairs, still in your pajamas, the evidence of last night’s party are still strewn everywhere—beer bottles resting on every available surface, red Solo cups with ominous contents and dirty paper plates on the sofas and coffee table. The ashtray that your mother continues to claim is merely decorative is now full of cigarette butts, and a few blunt roaches. 

The kitchen is hardly better, the counters packed with trash and dirty dishes you know are meant for you to clean up. For a satisfying moment, you imagine stiffening your arm and sweeping everything onto the floor, imagine the bottles shattering against the tile before you pull out a garbage bag from under the sink and get to work. There’s no use complaining—and you can’t ignore it, the trash rising up around your ears while your mother dotes on her favorite son. 

Don’t you know what I do for you? What I sacrificed to bring you into this world? 

You reach for the faucet, turning it viciously as your eyes water. I wish you fucking hadn’t. 

It’s mindless, at least, the cleaning. So much so that when someone raps on the locked screen door from the front of the house you nearly jump out of your skin. You drop the plate you’re washing back into the soapy water, splashing yourself. The knock comes again, more insistent. Probably Uncle Stefan. Left his wallet again. Shaking off the suds, you head for the door, rolling your eyes irritatedly as the banging continues. With a frustrated hmph you yank open the door, eyes narrowed. 

“Uncle Stu I don’t know where Momma put your wallet, she’s not home—” The words curl in on themselves in your throat. The man on the porch is most certainly not your uncle. 

“Good thing I’m not lookin’ for your Momma.” He flashes you a bright, white smile. It’s hard to talk around the lump in your throat but you manage. 

“D’s not here either.” You want to look past him, to stare at the air over his shoulder instead of into those stormy blues, anywhere but at him, but there’s so much of him he has to slouch to fill the doorway. Curtis is wider than last you’d seen him, his blond hair now close-cropped, the beginnings of a beard shadowed around his mouth and jaw. The edges of a tattoo peek out from beneath his sleeves and shirt collar, one he hadn’t had the last time you’d seen him—

Five years ago, in the back of the same cop car as your brother. 

“Now that’s a pity.” He clucks his tongue, and the silence that follows is nearly as heavy as his gaze. Beneath it, you are suddenly all too aware of your wet shirt sticking to your chest with every nervous breath you take. He licks his lips, slow and deliberate. “Mind if I wait for him?”

“I don’t know when he’ll be back.” You don’t know why you don’t just say no—men like Curtis Everett don’t hear that word enough anyway—but it feels like you can’t. Like his asking is only a formality. Like he’s daring you to say no. 

“He’s out with Momma. Don’t know how long they’ll be.” You hope the bitterness on your tongue doesn’t show in your voice. You should be over it by now, should have accepted the order of things long ago. 

But somehow, it still always stings. 

“I don’t mind.” Curtis shrugs, muscles flexing beneath his shirt. You don’t remember him being this big. He places a hand on the doorframe, leaning down till he’s almost eye level with you. “‘Sides, that gives you and me time to catch up.” He drawls, a grin spreading across his full lips. “Doesn’t it Ladybug?”

“Don’t call me that.” You snap. “Nobody calls me that anymore.” A slow grin spreads across his full lips. It makes you shiver.

“Nobody but me.” Suddenly, you’re fifteen again, buying your first eighth from your brother’s cool older friend, Neesh holding onto your shirtsleeve as you hand over the money. “Brings back memories, doesn’t it?” For a moment you debate whether or not to answer.

“Yeah,” you say finally. “Memories.” Bad ones.

 He glances past you into the house. “Looks like you all had a good time last night.” You can’t help the scowl that crosses your features. “Your momma does love a good party.”

“Yeah. For me to clean up.” You wince. “Sorry, I mean—” 

“You’ve always been the responsible one.” He shrugs languidly. The silence between you stretches on until he breaks it again. “I really don’t mind waiting.” He shifts so slightly you don’t even really register it, and suddenly he’s towering over you, the width and breadth of Curtis Everett filling your vision. He’s half-inside already, his foot on the threshold, the bulk of him leaned in past the doorframe. You feel small, vulnerable, your heart a frightened rabbit in your ribs. “I won’t get in the way. Promise.” 

I’m coming inside. He doesn’t have to say it, he doesn’t need to.

“Fine.” 

— 

You can feel Curtis’ eyes on your back as you stand at the sink, suck in an endless cycle of wash and dry. You grit your teeth as you furiously scrub the breading-caked fryer basket. Sometimes it feels like you can’t win for losing—first Damien, now Curtis. Who next? With my luck it’ll be fucking Dave. You shiver slightly at the thought—the walls still have patches of off white paint from where he’d driven his closed fists through the plaster. 

You never could find the right shade of eggshell white to cover the damage.  

A furtive glance over your shoulder reveals Curtis, standing in the doorway, a garbage bag in hand. It’s practically full to bursting, the crinkle of crushed plastic cups and paper plates as he hefts the bag almost as loud as the silence. 

“Got the living room cleared up.” You turn to face him, wiping your soapy, wet hands on the dishrag by the sink. It’s like you need to see where he is, to gauge the distance between your bodies constantly, like the hyper-vigilance will keep you safe. You know of course from experience that it won’t, but it doesn’t stop the habit. There’s a certain irony in your fear—Curtis hasn’t ever hurt you, hasn’t ever even tried, but something about him terrifies you, and you don’t want to know what he’s capable of. 

“Thanks. You can just leave it by the back door. I’ll take it out on my way to work.” 

“Oh? Thought you were still in school.” Curtis drops the bag by the door on the opposite side of the kitchen, before draping himself over the counter. “Least, that’s what D told me, anyway.” 

“Maybe you should ask him, then,” you reply snidely. “Since he knows so much.” 

“Maybe. But I’m askin’ you, Ladybug.” Suddenly, you’re aware you’re the only person in the house. Not that you hadn’t been before, but it dawns on you now in a way it hadn’t when he was at the door—

Silly little girl. You’ve gone and let the wolf in. 

You panic, tongue searching the roof of your mouth for a precious second as the lie forms in your throat.

“Nita’s. In Buckhead.” He nods his approval.

“Nice place.” You hum noncommittally in response. “Maybe I’ll come see you sometime.” The cup you’re washing slips from your fingers, shattering in the shallow, soapy water. “You okay, Ladybug?” You’re the furthest from okay that you’ve been in almost a decade but you don’t know how to say that. 

“We’re ho-ome!” Your mother’s lilting, sing-song-y tone saves you from having to reply. She bustles into the kitchen, arms laden with shopping bags. “Oh good, you’re up. D will be in with the rest of the bags and—” She pauses, a sharp intake of breath marking her observation. Better late than never.

“Curtis Everett, you better not be standing in my kitchen with them outside shoes on.” She snaps, pointing down at his feet. 

“Miss Gregory.” 

“Don’t you Miss Gregory me. Go on and take ‘em off or go stand on the porch.”  She makes a shooing motion towards the front door, her lips pursed in a disapproving frown. “Go on, now. Take ‘em off.” Curtis moves too gracefully for someone his size, crossing the kitchen in easy strides. There’s more than enough room between your back and the table for him to pass without touching you, but he brushes against you anyway. You nearly drop the pieces of glass you’re holding as you go stiff. 

He did that on purpose.

But when you look at him all you see is his receding back as he moves in the direction he’d been instructed to, leaving you and your mother alone in the kitchen. 

“Help me put these away.” 

Groceries. It was bags and bags of groceries. You sink your teeth into your lip to keep the angry words inside. The fridge has been empty for weeks; between paying for your classes and covering her half of the light bill and your own has left you little to spare in the way of grocery money. Up until this week the two of you had been scraping by on frozen dumplings and ramen.

“Did you get paid, Momma?” You ask quietly, pulling open the fridge door. She sucks her teeth. 

“Not that it’s any business of yours, but yes. I did.” 

“It’s just, you said you’d pay me back for the power bill when you got your check.” 

“We needed groceries.”

“We needed them before, too.” You say pointedly, and she rolls her eyes. “I just…I hope you didn’t blow your whole check on a nice breakfast and groceries for Damien. I don’t have any shifts this week, and—”

“Girl, who are you talking to?” Your mother’s tone is low and accusatory. You know instantly you’ve gone too far. 

“I’m sorry.”

“You don’t tell me how to spend my money when you live in my house rent free,” she snarls. “Disrespectful—” she mumbles something, a curse you can’t make out. “Move. I’ll do this myself.” She practically shoulder-checks you out of the way, angrily shoving her hands into the grocery bags. When you don’t move fast enough, she sucks her teeth. “Move, I said. Since you’re so grown.” 

You know defending yourself will only make it worse, so you clamp your jaw shut, your eyes focused on your trembling hands. 

Two months. 

Your mother places each item into the refrigerator as loudly as she can, slamming down bottles of juice and packages of frozen meat so hard you worry she’ll shatter the shelves. 

“Momma.” She slams down some frozen ground beef, shutting the freezer with equal force. “Momma, come on.”

“You giving me orders now? You just don’t know when to stop—”

“Look, I’m sorry, okay? I’m just… things are tight as it is. I’m just worried about us. I don’t want anything bad to happen.” 

“That’s my job.” She sighs. “I’m the parent, you’re the child. Stay in a child’s place.” 

I’m twenty six years old.

“Yes ma’am.” You clench your fists out of sight, where she can’t see them as you crawl back onto the proverbial tightrope. “I’m sorry.” 

“I know.” 

To be continued…

[geminixevans-stan]

Oh but mom is so nice to her inmate as son?! Whew chile I know the mama about to make me hit her with a brick! You got me ready to fight her and it’s only the first chapter. Curtis a lil sneak but hopefully he can get reader away from that hell hole.

This was amazing and I can’t wait for the next part. Ugh! I hope reader gets everything she deserves because living with that lady ain’t it.

[syntheticavenger]

better off - two

Senator! Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Word Count: 3K

Warnings: More world building, language, heavy angst.

If you want it to hurt, listen to Ariana Grande’s “we can’t be friends”.

Summary | Keeping busy is something you know how to do well, especially after the publicized break up with your ex. As his political fame rises, so does the need for you to focus on yourself and keeping your walls up for self-preservation. If only it was that simple.

Sam adjusts his tie, looking at the stylist who is examining his fingers tightening the knot, most likely making sure that it looks perfect. 

That’s the way of press events. Followed around by cameras, publicists and officials, making sure they can spin an innocent offer of friendship into something they can use for later. 

He’s all but banned the usual suspects, his own chief of staff rolling her eyes at the fuss over his choice of outfit. It’s a simple white shirt and black tie with black slacks, matching socks and shiny black shoes. He’s taken to rolling up the sleeves, especially since today of all days it’s hotter than usual.

”Wouldn’t you like to have the sleeves rolled down?” the stylist offers, taking a step closer as he puts his hand out.

“I like them the way they are, Hannah,” he quips, seeing her give a quick nod. 

Inside the green room, he has two Secret Service agents at the door, a little overkill he thinks without verbally saying it. It’s stocked with everything he likes, a throwback to remembering how you had managed to slip his favorite case of beer into the fridge when you had told him to help himself at a barbecue once before. These little touches make him smile as he takes a handful of peanut M&Ms and tosses a few into his mouth while he studies his speech.

It’s a quieter affair but one near and dear to his heart. It’s a veteran’s brunch for them and their families, a simple yet touching thing you’ve decided on to raise awareness for veteran’s rights. Your non-profit, while still new, has received some heavy donations after your outreach work was highlighted by Joaquin Torres. The Vice President was nearly moved to tears when he saw your ribbon cutting ceremony after creating housing for homeless veterans. He’ll be in the audience, running late for another event but he wouldn’t miss this for the world.

“We’re almost ready for you,” Camille, his chief of staff reminds him. “Mic check went well, there are several vets out there who would like to thank you personally, Sir.”

He isn’t sure what to say to that. He’s a veteran, just like them, fighting for them and every other person in this country. It’s a quiet affair, no cameras allowed to cut down on the unnecessary noise and stress. A place for them to just be, without ravenous reporters begging for a soundbite or quick picture. 

He’s pleased you put your foot down to keep it family and friends only.

“I should be thanking them.”

Camille gives him a smile, handing him a mirror as he balks at it.

”You really want to give a speech out there with peanut and chocolate in your teeth?”

He smiles widely, inspecting his teeth before he’s satisfied, popping a mint in his mouth.

“You know those are my favorite,” he says with a wink, heading toward the door.

”We’ll make sure to pack them for the drive back,” she promises.

-

You picked the wrong time to break in your new heels. As cute as they are, you find yourself gritting your teeth with every step, cursing the fact that you forgot to bring the bandaids for the back of your ankles. Thankfully, you can play it off, surveying the scene in front of you, counting each table one more time to make sure you have a proper count.

Rea snaps a picture of a family with their camera, her smile wide with appreciation before another calls out to her to take another picture. There’s a shred of anxiety that you probably should have brought a professional photographer to take pictures but you’d surveyed the families and they wanted a chance to be in their element - alone and without distraction. What matters is that you’re close to funding another complex to be turned into housing and being so close to your goal is what continues to motivate you. Your track record with job pairings is double what you had originally estimated and it still feels like you aren’t doing enough.

”You’re up,” Rea whispers, watching you jump in surprise. “How’s the feet?”

“Miserable but I’ll make it,” you promise her. “I owe him so much, Rea.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, he could say the same about you,” Rea counters. “I remember those first speeches when he was running.”

You ignore her, heading up to the podium. Nerves ripple in your belly but you swallow them down. This isn’t about you and your fears of public speaking, this is about a proper opening speech. You’ve written them countless times.

“Good morning,” you begin, seeing hopeful faces looking up at you. “I am incredibly pleased and humbled to be here with you today. As you know, this non-profit started off with small but noble intentions. It was to ensure that those who have served shall be cherished and never forgotten. I am so thankful to have you all here to celebrate such a tremendous occasion. This afternoon is about you and your families, to provide a sense of calm in an uncertain world. It is important to me that I express my adoration and utmost respect for your service and for you as individuals.”

Heavy handed clapping breaks through as you nod in response.

“As you know, our efforts have been recognized by none other than Vice President Torres and also, President Sam Wilson, who is here today to share a message with you all. Please join me in welcoming him to the stage.”

Applause breaks out, people standing as he appears, waving to the crowd as Camille looks on, giving you a thumbs up. Sam embraces you warmly, heading up to the podium as you head back toward Rea.

“Couldn’t tell if you were in pain,” Rea whispers, handing you a glass of water. “Can you believe the President is speaking at our brunch? How on earth did you pull this off?”

“Because she’s a genius,” a voice interrupts, both you and Rea turning around.

It’s Jules, who is decked out in a couture navy pants suit and red pumps. She always looks immaculate and you’d tell her so if your heart wasn’t suddenly beating out of your chest at the thought of where her boss may be.

“He’s not here,” Jules says quickly, almost as if reading your mind. “He doesn’t know I’m here. You think I would miss this?”

You’re unsure of what to say, Jules nodding toward the door as Rea stays put inside the hall. You follow her, Jules pushing the door open, giving you enough clearance before it closes.

“I’m proud of you,” Jules continues. “I wish it was under better circumstances but I couldn’t have him coming here if I didn’t know the status of where you were both at.”

“There is no status, Jules.”

“I figured as much. I hope you liked your flowers.”

You’re silent at her comment. The hardest feeling is wondering why he isn’t here and being thankful that you don’t have to face him.

“I did. Thank you.”

“Even his?”

You scoff at Jules’ question, crossing your arms over your chest.

“I gave them away, actually.”

Jules sighs, shaking her head in disbelief.

“You’d think you’d both be past this by now. I know it ended badly but it doesn’t have to be so… final. I came to tell you that I’m really fucking proud of you. Quitting your corporate job and starting a non-profit isn’t for the weak but you did it. I never had any doubts but… it just meant a lot to me to make sure I told you so.”

“I appreciate that.”

She blows out a breath at your comment, gripping her purse.

“Don’t go Ice Queen on me. It’s me, you’re talking to, remember? You don’t have to shut me out.”

You won’t let her get any further, checking your watch quickly.

“I appreciate the kind words, Jules. I appreciate the flowers from you as well. I need to head back inside.”

You don’t wait for her to say anything, opening the door with as much strength as you can muster, leaving her behind, right as Sam is finishing up his speech, Rea wiping her tears away.

-

Bucky notices the way Jules sits in her seat, shifting back and forth, shuffling through her papers to find the right one, muttering to herself as he downs a bottle of water. His workout lasted longer than he realized, missing two of her calls before she had politely demanded for the doorman to let her knock on his door.

He’d looked at her like she was crazy as he slung the towel around his broad shoulders, letting her inside as she muttered to herself, only to open her bag and start working.

“Everything okay?” 

She doesn’t look up from her papers, his question not registering until he clears his throat.

“Huh?”

“You’re distracted,” he tells her, seeing her wrinkle her nose in response.

“I am not. I’m trying to find this itinerary that I swore I had but I bet you it fell…” she trails off, going silent as he raises an eyebrow.

“Fell where?”

“Somewhere. It’s not important. There wasn’t anything confidential on there anyway. I can start over.”

“Jules. I was trying to get a hold of you most of the afternoon and you were MIA and now you’re all over the place. What’s going on?”

Bucky’s tone gets her attention as her shoulders slump forward.

“Sam spoke at an event today. The VP was there too. A brunch honoring veterans and their families. That’s where I was.”

“Is that why you’re so secretive? I would have gone with you if you needed back up. I would have sent the security detail with you.”

She hesitates slightly at his words.

“No. You couldn’t have gone with me. I shouldn’t have even gone.”

“I don’t get it.”

Jules covers her face with her hands, letting them draw out her features as she drags them down.

“It was her non-profit.”

They exchange a long glance, Jules popping up from her chair as she points a finger at him.

“And she’s cold, Bucky. The Arctic is warmer than she was.”

His confusion only sends her into more of a tailspin, watching her pace back and forth.

“She dismissed me. Me! And what’s worse, I let her do it! Like I’d gone soft or something. I wanted to congratulate her. Her non-profit is thriving, Bucky. She’s doing some really good shit and helping people. The minute I approached her, it was like she had seen a ghost. Is that the way it is between you both? Just harboring some weird grudge that you both can’t get over?”

“Why didn’t you tell me you were going there?” Bucky asks, her eyes lowering at his question.

“Because you would have wanted to go.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“You would have had worse treatment, trust me.”

-

It’s late when you finally get home, your heels kicked across the floor haphazardly, a glass of cherry juice in your hand while you make your way to the couch. You’d drink if it could mean you wouldn’t have to face yourself and the impending thoughts that snake their way into your mind the next morning. For now, this sleepy girl mocktail will have to do, your phone somewhere on the table, far away from reach so that you can just be.

There’s a part of you that wallows in the idea of sitting in your apartment alone in the dark, even if it’s by choice. You’ve already shed tears for the way you treated Jules, aware that the interaction has reopened a wound that you had thought had been sutured shut months ago.

“They’re outside,” Jules said, sitting next to you amid the small mountain of used tissues. “You don’t need to go, you know. Say the word and I can have them gone and everything scrubbed from record.”

She didn’t do well with your silence, the tears running down your cheeks as you took everything in for the last time. It was weird to think you wouldn’t see the same black and white picture of his childhood home in the black frame near his bedroom anymore or the picture of him and Steve from so many years ago.

“I’ll go out the back,” you told her, your body unwilling to move as your brain leapt into action. It was the fight or flight, the latter overtaking you to move, to leave and never come back.

“He’ll be back soon,” Jules promised, her voice near pleading. “I think you can work this out. He loves you.”

“Loves me?” you questioned her words with a dark stare. “Is this how you treat someone you love? Ending it without even a second thought?”

You never used to question it, never had to worry if his career was ahead of you. Your worst fears were realized, seeing him shield you from the cameras, closing the blinds and skipping workouts so that he wouldn’t be hounded by the press.

You had become a liability.

“How does this all work?” you questioned her. “Do I have to sign something to say I won’t ever talk to him again?”

“There’s no NDA,” Jules replied sadly, seeing you pluck around tissue out of the box. “I know he thinks he’s doing the right thing but I disagree. You’re the best thing to ever happen to him.”

“God,” you drawled you, forcing yourself to stand, your knees nearly locking in place. “I’m going to be fine, Jules. I appreciate that you think he loved me but we both know his career was going to take a hit and I’ll be damned if I take the fall if his entire career is about our relationship. You have to hand it to him though. Bucky is a shrewd man when it comes to optics.”

“You know that isn’t true. He’s thinking of you and how you’re portrayed in all of this,” Jules defended, seeing you grab the tissues and toss them into the trash.

Anger replaced hurt, the emotion had soothed over you like an icy balm. It was easier to be angry than crushed, you could at least leave with what shreds of dignity you had left.

You’d ignored Jules’ call when you’d gone down the steps unceremoniously, your phone vibrating in your pocket that you’d tossed on the table on your way out. 

You were done with all of it.

With shaky fingers, you bring the glass up to your lips, forcing the memory away as your eyes close, tilting your head back on the sofa.

-

He gets a reprieve for at least a week now, Jules cancelling his engagements to give him the space to breathe.

To rest.

Instead he looks up at his ceiling, pressing the button to hear his own apology on the phone you had left behind, going still as he can still remember the words he spoke. The memory is clear as day, right down to the gritty details of the sounds his shoes made on the wet pavement.

“I’m making the biggest mistake of my life,” he said, the rain pouring down as he left the umbrella to run to the car. “Don’t you fucking leave, okay? Stay there so that we can talk this through, so that I have a chance to explain. Jules should be there now. If there’s press, stay inside okay. Just… just don’t go.”

The phone call ends abruptly, right at the time he was ushered into the car, away from the threat that had made the news. He wasn’t supposed to be there, a quick detour to campaign for Torres until someone had decided to call in a threat. Credible or not, he was ushered off to a safe place, laying low until it was safe to do so.

Where he was didn’t matter. The lack of communication that he was going to stop to campaign was the issue, leaving two days prior after the breakup. He called it giving you space to guard his own shattered heart.

Sleep doesn’t come easy that night, Bucky finding himself looking through old photos of you both, including the way he carried you over the threshold after he had asked you to move in with him. He swears he can still hear your laughter, right down to the way you held your head back as he spun you around.

Memories of the past, meant to be tucked away for later and not right now.

The phone still technically belongs to you, given to you by him in case of emergencies. It was the one you left behind that day, not looking back when Jules had simply said you had left. The finality in her voice had spurred him into action, searching for you until he got the hint that you simply didn’t want to be found.

So far removed from your life, he wonders what you’re doing right now, if you’re having trouble sleeping or if you’re curled up on your side with a pillow, lost in slumber. He hopes it’s the latter not the former, spending many nights watching you stare mindlessly at the television, your mind going a mile a minute at the ‘what ifs’ and what was to come once you stepped foot outside the door.

Still, you always found comfort in his arms. You soothed him as much as he did you and for a moment, he allows himself to remember what it felt like when you held him close, your words spoken softly against his skin like a spell that kept him enraptured with everything you said. He doesn’t want to admit how lonely it is without you. How mundane his world is without you in it. 

Stating that fact seems like it would kill him if he spoke it out loud.

Instead he lets himself dream of what could have been, drifting off to sleep, still holding the phone in his hand.

[geminixevans-stan]

It was so easy getting lost in these words that I was sad when it ended. It’s the longing that I feel from both of them in this part that just feels like they both need to just let go and try again.

This was amazing! I can feel the battling turmoil in reader when Jules came around, it was like she didn’t want to give an ounce of feeling to that side because she knew she would eventually seek Bucky.

I’m rooting for these two and I’m loving the angst in this

[syntheticavenger]

better off

Thank you to @geminixevans-stan for giving me the cheerleading I needed to get this finished.

Senator! Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Word Count: 1.8K

Warnings: World building so nothing really, unless you count heavy angst and mentions of a break up. If you follow my work, I’ve sprinkled in an Easter egg in here from another fic.

Summary | Keeping busy is something you know how to do well, especially after the publicized break up with your ex. As his political fame rises, so does the need for you to focus on yourself and keeping your walls up for self-preservation. If only it was that simple.

The ringing in his ears has finally stopped, President Wilson’s State of the Union speech bringing people to their feet, the applause thundering for more than a few minutes. 

Sam Wilson hasn’t always been known to be a rousing orator - years as a VA counselor meant he led with empathic firmness - but the determination in his voice, two years after the battle with former President Ross had nearly brought the world to the brink of destruction, President Wilson’s speech would be forever cemented in history.

“Senator Barnes!” A woman shouts, a microphone thrust in his face as she turns on her megawatt smile like she’s turned on some internal switch. “President Wilson’s speech is being hailed as a tremendous achievement, bringing multiple party lines together. As a longtime friend to President Wilson, I am sure you’re very proud of him tonight.”

”Very,” Bucky agrees, seeing Jules, the head of his staff, tap her watch. “President Wilson did not hold back on reminding the public of the things he had promised once he got into office and how he has delivered these promises to the great people of the United States and our allies and friends.”

Jules mouths the time as he pivots to leave.

”Thank you Senator, always a pleasure!”

The flashes of the cameras and more reporters yelling for him for another sound bite only makes his steps quicken to the waiting car. Normally, he would stop for another interview but time is of the essence - he has a speech he will be delivering to his constituents in less than six hours. 

“You alright?” Jules asks, looking up from her phone to inspect her boss. “We can move the speech back by a day, you know. You’ll get two hours of sleep if you’re lucky.”

”Two hours is a start.”

He can see her running her teeth over her lower lip, which means she wants to say more, even as her eyes go back to her phone.

”Jules.”

Her head snaps to attention at the mention of her name.

”Hmm?”

”What’s wrong?”

”Uh, nothing, I…” she trails off. “I sent her flowers. It’s her birthday today.”

Immediately he goes silent, his head sinking back into the headrest while Jules lets out a sad sigh. 

“It doesn’t have your name on it if that’s what you’re worried about,” she says quickly, pushing her black rimmed glasses back up her nose. “You didn’t ask this time but I figured you were busy with everything else going on so, I -”

”I didn’t forget. It’s been almost a year and a half.”

”I’m sorry, Bucky. I didn’t mean to interfere, I just know that you used to…” she stops, shaking her head as if to remind herself to drop the subject. “I’ll shut up.”

The car ride is quiet for a moment - almost too quiet to where he can hear the soft pull of the leather when he adjusts in his seat.

He knows exactly what day it is. He woke up this morning wondering what you would be doing, how a year prior he woke you up to breakfast in bed, a myriad of gifts placed around the room for you to open. You never wanted anything fancy, just a small celebration and he had done just that.

How it had all gone wrong was his fault.

”I’m sorry,” comes Jules’ reply after a moment. 

“I’m not mad, Jules,” Bucky replies. “Thank you for sending her flowers. For doing what I wanted to do but didn’t.”

”Why didn’t you?”

”She stopped taking my phone calls a year ago. I got the hint.”

”It wasn’t your finest moment,” Jules counters with a nod. “I think you had noble intentions.”

He lets out a snort as the car turns down the street, the airport in full view.

”Noble intentions? That usually means -“

”You fucked it up. She was good for you, Bucky. Remember President Barber? Married his VP! Now he’s the governor of Massachusetts and deliriously happy. You have to allow yourself to be happy, your constituents are great and the ones that aren’t? You give ‘em a big middle finger and move on.”

Jules is pleased with her little speech, nodding at the end of it as Bucky turns to look at her.

”You think she would survive these stories about my past? I barely survived.”

Jules pokes him in the shoulder.

”And look at you now,” she clarifies. “A whole public servant, Senator Barnes.”

-

Deep pink roses greet you when you open the door to your office, wrapped in a happy birthday sash in a sage green.

Your favorite color.

These same ones were delivered to your apartment two days ago, the ribbon a light pink. A gift from Jules, you know that much. Ever since she had seen you wear a pink dress to a dinner, instead of your monochromatic go-tos, she’d decided that pink was your favorite color.

It was a nice gesture, of course, acknowledging the occasion.

Birthdays are a thing of the past now, something you force yourself to think of as any other day, 

You have nowhere to put them, wondering if you can get a vase today in between your packed schedule. Running a business isn’t for the weak but it’s kept you busy and that’s all you can hope for these days.

Your attention goes back to the roses, a card peeking out from it that you hadn’t seen before. It could be anyone but you know it isn’t.

In fact, the minute you slip the silver letter opener under the envelope flap, you’re aware of the writing. It isn’t wordy but succinct and to the point, your eyes settling on his penmanship.

Happy birthday, beautiful. I miss you every day.

You’ve been strong.

Even when he was ending things, wiping your tears as he apologized over and over for hurting you - for hurting both of you - over a decision that he thought was best, you had been strong enough to know that you’d have to process the hurt, the feeling of betrayal that you believed you had been enough. 

Strong meant living the shared apartment you’d had for two years, mailing the key and garage opener certified mail as you licked your wounds, leaving a job you loved because you knew you would run into him and that was nearly as devastating a thought as the breakup itself. You’d cursed his name into your pillow, hot tears sinking into the satin fabric before you woke each day, a little stronger than the last.

You could be stronger, you tell yourself, shoving the card and envelope into a drawer when a knock at your door brings you back to center. After a moment, a head pokes inside, your assistant Rea cocking her head at the sight of you. Trying to fix your expression, you’re aware that you’ve let your emotions get the better of you, straightening your shoulders as Rea walks up to your desk.

”Goddamn it,” Rea mutters, pushing the door open as you try to sit up straight. “He did it again, didn’t he?”

She inspects them carefully, picking them up to inhale the scent.

”He’s good at this,” she continues, voiced filled with praise before it takes on a cautionary tone. “Are you gonna give in?”

You’re quick to deny her, shoving the card into the drawer.

”Give into what? Flowers for my birthday don’t mean anything.”

”It’s a nice gesture. Expensive too. I know French roses when I see them. ”

”Do you want them?” you ask, seeing her face go into shock at your offer.

”What?” Rea asks. “They’re for your birthday.”

”I don’t celebrate my birthday anymore, remember? They’re all yours.”

”I mean, you don’t have to tell me twice,” Rea says, pulling the bouquet toward her. “ I couldn’t impose… but if you insist.”

She doesn’t move from near your desk, intently watching you for a moment.

“What?” you ask, giving her a look.

“Happy birthday, boss. You may not believe in celebrating things anymore but I’m grateful for you every day.”

Rea gives you a smile before she plucks the bouquet off of the desk.

”And don’t stay late tonight because I know you,” she says in finality, closing the door behind her.

-

Jules watches as Bucky paces in his hotel suite, his tie hanging over his neck as he practices his notes. His support of a veterans bill means five rows dedicated to those who have served, the glint of his metal hand peeking out from his white shirt. He’s deep in thought, the minutes ticking by until he has to finish getting ready.

A notification on her phone makes her glance down.

Thank you. 

She knows better than to share this news, as small as it may seem. Her little confession about sending you flowers had turned into an uncomfortable silence, him diving headfirst into work. Great for his constituents and bad for her personal life. Focusing on his work meant more interviews, more town halls and more canvassing for up and coming electoral candidates.

It’s what he doesn’t say, the way he checks his phone to see if there are any signs of communication before placing it face down on the table, to the way he not so casually glances at your now deleted social media to see if you resurfaced.

Jules knows how quickly you had swept your presence off of social media, quitting your job at the law firm to pursue your own career. Whispers around your former social circles had said you had disappeared to start your own bid for office, a ploy to get back at Bucky for breaking up with you.

She’d known better.

If anything, removing all traces of your presence had been devastating, especially with how quickly you had done it.

Neither of you had gotten the closure you needed, him so quick to end things when the media began to poke around your personal life, cameras popping up when you least expected them and how his name was now appearing in fashion magazines, rather than the political heavyweight papers. He’d given you an out and you’d taken it and then some, leaving him reeling with a sense of loss that still continues to be felt, even by the way he’s written in a clause that his personal life is completely off limits when it comes to interviews.

And you, quick to accept your fate, ceasing all communication with him. The bad timing of his speaking engagements had meant he had left days after, leaving you to simply mail what was left of your relationship.

You hadn’t been there to see the absolute despair in his eyes, how fast his walls had come up when she had asked him if he needed time.

He checks his phone again, shaking his head as if to get himself out his thoughts, quickly fixing his tie in the mirror.

“Ten minutes,” Jules says in a warning, another notification coming through.

Jules? Tell him thank you as well.

She hides her smile at the idea of him sending you flowers after all.

[geminixevans-stan]

Those two tortured souls. I’m all for second chances but it feels like they belong together. I can just feel the angst from here and I’m so ready for it! You did amazing on this and I’ll cheer for you everyday!

[parsonkenny101-deactivated20161]

[anglaised]

the universe will always align for black women……

[syntheticavenger]

Nothing to see here, move along.

Let Him Loose - Two

A continuation of a little project I started here.

Dark! Ari Levinson x Female Reader / Dennis Baker x Female Reader

Word Count: 2K

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, language, world building, possibly a little murder right out of the gate?

Summary | After your boyfriend’s promotion, he means to make amends with his estranged parents, including his older brother. As family wounds come to light, so do the secrets that have been buried for decades.

Sweat dots her brow, the older woman scrubbing at a stubborn stain on her favorite skillet, ignoring her husband who opens the fridge to grab a beer, wordless before the crack of the top of the bottle gets her attention. It’s been a week of nonstop cleaning, painting and redecorating, the countdown on the calendar circled in blue pen.

”Did you take out the trash like I asked?” She questions, the man giving a slight sound of what appears to be a yes. “Elvin, I asked you a question.”

”I said yes, woman,” he speaks up, the woman stopping her scrubbing at the tone of his voice. “Why on earth are you so worried about making the place look good? It’s Dennis. The boy knows home.”

”It ain’t just about him knowing about home, he’s bringing her,” she reminds him, Elvin turning around at her mention of you.

”Is he?” Elvin emphasizes, seeing his wife’s head nod emphatically. With that, he snorts, thinking of his youngest son in disbelief at the news. “Thought you were pullin’ my chain. A girl. That changes everything, don’t it?”

She scrubs away at the stain, looking at her handiwork for a moment before slipping it into the hot, soapy water, leaning over the sink with a heavy sigh.

”Can’t have this place lookin’ like a pigsty. She’s a city girl, Elvin. Lord knows she’s gonna turn up her nose at everything we have and then some so the least I can do is make sure the house looks tidy.”

Elvin shakes his head in disgust at her worrying.

”Bernadette, since when do you care what a city girl thinks about our home?”

“I don’t. But I can keep up the appearance in the meantime.”

Elvin nods at her response, realizing that his wife is much smarter than he ever gives her credit for. Scratching behind his neck, he looks on at the pristine kitchen, redone with fancy wallpaper and some spackle and paint to cover the cracks. It does look good, he has to admit to himself, Bernadette finishing up the last of the dishes.

“Does Ari know?”

She pauses for a moment, looking over her shoulder as she gives him a wink.

”He will.”

-

The clack of billiard balls are overshadowed by the raucous music, heavy conversation and servers announcing the next round of drinks while they visit their tables. Another local watering hole, nothing special about it except for the cheap beer and the waitresses who try for extra tips by showing all the skin they can get away with. One in particular hangs around, her shorts slung over on her hips when she comes by again, placing another beer in front of him.

”Never seen you before,” she hints, batting her eyelash extensions at him. “I’m Donna.”

“First time,” he answers, reaching for the beer. “Ari.”

”Ari,” she repeats, nodding her head. “I like it.”

He simply nods, giving her nothing to work with as she leans over the table, her cleavage on full display.

”What do you say you and I get a little more acquainted? I’m off in thirty minutes.”

Ari’s blue eyes lock with hers as she smiles. He leans in closer, getting a waft of her cheap body spray. It’s overpowering but it doesn’t deter him, not in the slightest.

”That could be arranged,” he begins, his curled index finger gliding down her heavily blushed cheek. “Got a little fetish though, if you don’t mind indulging me..”

She leans in closer, her teeth dragging excitedly on her thin lower lip.

”Tell me.”

”Well… I like a little chase. Gets the heart rate up.”

With a loud laugh, she leans up with a snap, tucking the tray under her arm.

”Say less. Meet you out back. I even got my running shoes on.”

Ari settles back in his seat, his stomach growling. It’s been hours since he ate. The appetizer that sits in front of him is untouched, the cheese dip congealing into something that looks like mush.

Glancing over his text messages, he smirks at the message he’s left his younger brother, left on read when Ari had mentioned he had wanted to meet her. Poor Dennis, trying to keep her a secret, only to fail and succumb to the pressure of wanting to brag about finally having a girlfriend after being teased and bullied for so long. Not that he could fault him - he would have gloated too if he’d had decades of a dry spell.

After a little business, he downs his beer, stomach still growling as he feels the aching gnaw in the pit of his gut. It’ll subside eventually. It always does one he’s sated.

The moon hides behind the clouds and for a moment, Ari takes it in, looking at his brand new watch to note the time before he takes it off and slips it into his jean pocket.

Whistling to himself, he tosses a few dollar bills on the table, cracking his neck from side to side before heading out the exit and to the back of the bar like Donna had requested.

-

Bernadette sits out on the porch, wiping her brow before fanning herself with the ornate handmade handheld fan that Ari bought her during his business trip to Guangzhou. The ice in her iced tea is melting rapidly, floating on the surface like tiny glaciers. She’s finally alone with her thoughts, Elvin gone to bed to get up early to tend to the farm. Nights like these keep her awake, thinking of her boys who used to play on the front lawn until all hours of the night until she carried them back to their beds.

It’s been years since she’s had her sons in the house, thunder rumbling overhead as she sips her drink, thinking to the future. Annabelle Tatum thought she was the only one with something to talk about, her only daughter finally getting married. The dour faced girl with pock marked skin after several bouts of acne had been extremely shy but had grown into her looks, something that Bernadette had prayed to God to forgive her for once saying out loud when the girl had come back from college.

Like most, the ones who came back never left again, just as Annabelle’s daughter. Two kids in tow now, another on the way, Annabelle gushing at the eventual new arrival every chance she got.

It isn’t like Bernadette had a rebuttal. Everyone knew she had one son that grew up to be something. Ari was a star baseball player, a swagger in his gait and a smile that lit up a room. She’d raised him well, happy to see him stick to his roots and defy the agents who came with blank checks and big dreams to make him a star. An enlistment and three tours later, the once gawky teenager with long hair and a shuffle in his step had emerged to be a mountain of a man with that same husky drawl and even longer hair, albeit much richer than his parents had ever thought he’d be.

Then there was Dennis.

Secretly, he’d always been her favorite, as sinful as that could be to have a mother love one son over another by a small margin. How could he not be with his once clear framed glasses, bruises marked on his elbows and knees from the amount of times he would get knocked down. For as long as she could remember, she always wanted her little Dennis to win, even if Elvin didn’t think he would. There was grit in his spirit, even when he’d come home, teary eyed and unwilling to talk about the fights he had lost, he’d get back up and do it all over again.

But there was a need for him to put distance between what he always knew and the great unknown. She never approved - still doesn’t now, even after all these years. Once he was given a scholarship, including the others that he had secretly applied to, there was no looking back. No amount of convincing that staying here would be safer for his psyche worked.

Bernadette swallows hard at the lump that forms in her throat when she thinks about how long he’s been gone. Christmases still aren’t the same, even when Ari comes with his fully loaded truck packed to the gills with the newest household gadgets for her to try and new furniture for them, the loss of knowing her youngest wants nothing to do with their family traditions.

While she can understand to a point, Elvin in his older age has grown tired of pretending that he can live with Dennis’ decision. As the head of the household, Elvin looks to Ari to carry on the family name, to take care of her and the farm when he eventually passes away. It’s a way of life, especially with their kind, something that she knows he’s been talking about more than usual. She isn’t ready to discuss it.

She isn’t sure if she’s ever ready to have him bring up the topic again.

But as it’s written, the law handed down a century and then some ago, there’s a ceremonial meaning to Dennis coming home. She hopes it’s because of the call, intertwined in his DNA that makes him want to return home.

Placing her drink down, she closes her eyes, the fan in her hand moving rapidly.

Yes, she thinks.

He knows where home is.

-

Ari’s boots crunch on the gravel, the first strings of dawn beginning to form, his hand plunging into his pant pocket and pulling out his watch. He looks back at the discarded clothes and smiles, reaching for his keys in his back pocket.

Dennis finally replied to his text, a simple acknowledgment with a thumbs up emoji. Never a man of words, this is all the conversation Ari will get before they meet in person, something he knows Dennis won’t want to do. Ari doesn’t mind pulling rank, especially on his younger brother.

Shrugging on his flannel and buttoning it down, the chill of the air makes everything feel still, as if any slight noise will shatter this serene moment. Opening the door to his truck, he examines his teeth in the rear view, picking out a piece of bone before flicking it out of his window.

With a few simple presses of buttons, all the windows lower, rock music playing loudly as he reverses, gravel spraying upward before he throws it into drive, accelerating and leaving the mountains behind.

He’s not hungry anymore but tiredness hovers over his eyes.

There’s a small diner on the way to his parents’ house, where the coffee is fresh and people know to keep clear of him. A healthy fear, one that he uses to his advantage when the time calls for it. No doubt in a few hours, they’ll pretend that they didn’t see him, deny that he was there.

He snaps his fingers to the beat of the music, hitting his hands on the steering wheel to the beat of the drums.

He’ll be home before dinner.

Just in time to size up Dennis’ new girl.

-

Elvin watches the truck pull up in the driveway, the music still thunderous before it abruptly shuts off, Ari flinging the door open. In the back of the truck are more gifts, Elvin finding himself shaking his head with the idea of where he will put the things he’d bought.

”Where’s Ma?” Ari questions, Elvin’s head tilting toward the house. 

”Shower. Gotta get dolled up for the prodigal son and the city girl, ya know,” Elvin quips, shielding his eyes from the bright sun. “What’s in the back?”

“Figured that we can’t have Denny back in the house without a little celebration,” Ari says, adjusting his sunglasses before slamming the door shut. “Brought some meat for Ma to cook up for tonight. Figured we could have a right feast this time.”

[geminixevans-stan]

This just feels like a bunch of fuck around and find outs in this one

[geminixevans-stan]

Hey hey, just out of curiosity, is there a part 2 for cadouri?? it's just so good!!

I really do want to finish that series! I had such a fun time writing it.

[geminixevans-stan]

ur still odd for defending writing rape😆🫶

Ur still odd for being anonymous. Hopefully you don’t send anything else because it would be a waste of your time. 😌

[fineanddandy]

Best Friends Means…

Relationship: Aldis Hodge x black!reader x Sebastian Stan

Warnings: SMUTTY SMUT SMUT, threesome, sharing/swapping, tag team action, unprotected sex, oral (fem and male receiving), alcohol and drug consumption, drunk sex, mmf, graphic language, smut cliffhanger, 18+

A/N: I said…and well…😈

You don’t know how or when it became one a.m., but the night’s still going. Fuck, you feel…elevated, giggling at Sebastian tell a goofy story to those listening nearby. When you said a kickback at the crib, you didn’t expect it to turn it to a full blown shindig. Bottles upon bottle of wine, unlimited joints being passed, music flowing throughout the house. Vibes had been immaculate, everyone smiling and laughing, having a fuckin fantastic time. But the later it got, the more it dwindled down just to a few folks still hanging about. You felt like your eyes were closed, so full and high, but Sebastian held your attention with his attentive voice, his brief glimpses into your bloodshot eyes. He really knew how to address a room. Just as he’s reaching his climax, you hear a soft, deep voice call your name. Looking over to your right, you spot Aldis waving you over to the other side of the living room. Pushing yourself off the couch with a smile, you abandon Sebastian’s side to join him.

You drunkenly chuckle, “what’s up boo,” as you take his big hand, letting him guide you down the empty hall.

Aldis takes you by the chin and careens your head up to get a good look at you. “Yo, you good?”

Scoffing you push his hand off you. “Yeah I’m good. Just crossfaded y’know…is that what you wanted? Seb was tellin a funny ass story dude.” You push at his thick shoulder with a roll of your tired eyes.

“Oh so I can’t worry about you? Lookin slumped over there on the couch. I’ll get you some water.”

Aldis goes to the kitchen, leaving you there against the wall as the room erupts in laughter. Fuck you missed it. By the sounds of it, whatever he said was fuckin hilarious, and you’re so faded you giggle along anyway, imagining his silly laugh and pretty smile in your head. So pretty…sometimes you found it hard just being his friend because fuck, look at him. And to have such a shining personality to match? God, you’ve thought about taking a step back just to keep your ass in check but the two of you are too close. Nights like these made it hard to resist flirting with him, especially when you’re this fucked up.

Tonight though, you’d been playing it cool since Aldis was around. Trying not to give one or the other too much attention, you either kept them both nearby, or bounced between them for you couldn’t be gone too long without one of them seeking you out. Just like Aldis did just a minute ago. You huff a laugh, thinking back on the two of them acting all weirdly territorial all night. Swore that you three could be good friends with no problems. And most times, they were cool, got along great, but certain situations, certain circumstances? Those two acted like brothers fighting over their favorite toy.

Aldis was first, he occasionally liked to remind you when he felt neglected enough. The big dork. And sure, he was, doesn’t mean he’s any more or less important than Sebastian. But you adore the big ass baby. Crazy about that smile, that chocolate skin. You felt just as much at home with him as you do with Seb. Aldis was always fun to be around, always kept you laughing as well. His smile so blinding beautiful it made him glow like the sun. No, it wasn’t easy being his friend either; a few minor slip ups in the past gave him an upper hand Sebastian had no clue about. That’s what made him a little nervous about leaving you two alone too long. You live on your on your free will. He’s clocked the way you look at Sebastian, because that’s the way you look at him.

People suddenly bombarding you with goodbye’s and goodnight’s pull you out of your cloudy thoughts. They all hug your neck before they’re out the front door, dishing about what a fun night they had as they call for rides or get ready to walk home. It felt like a whirlwind of kisses and thank you’s and laughter and before you knew it, you were left all alone with Sebastian standing predominantly in the middle of your living room, still holding his drink.

“Where’d you run off to?” He asks with his slinky smirk, heading towards you locking your door.

“Aldis was trippin,” you dismiss with a shoulder shrug, “He was supposed to be getting me some water but I don’t know what happened.”

You turn to find Sebastian right behind you, hovering with this look in his amazing blue eyes. But instead of gasping out in fright, you bite a small smirk up at him, meeting his intense stare with a bat of your lashes. If his drunk ass didn’t move around somewhere…

“Not too fucked up are you?”

You push him away with a smack of your lips, stepping away from the front door. “Pfffft…please, I’m fine. Nothing I can’t handle.”

You walk away with a flick of your wrist, but then Sebastian catches your careless hand, stopping you from going too far. You look back over your shoulder with a nervous frown, heartbeat racing just a little faster. He doesn’t say a word, just stares, like he wants to inhale you or something. Why is he looking at you like that.

“What. What Sebastian.”

“Hey, sorry, I was on the phone. Here’s your water.” Aldis comes barging in the room with a cold bottle of water, catching him drop your hand and pacing back his seat on the couch. Plopping back down with a hard sigh, he sips his drink to unravel the knot in his throat. Ugh, he would come walking in just when he wanted to make a move. How does Aldis do that? He bounces his big brown eyes between you two trying to act normal, clearly interrupting something. “Everyone left?” He asks still keeping a weary eye on you taking the water from him.

Twisting the cap open you nod and take a long drink. “Looks like it. Just the three of us now. Unless…”

Aldis glances over at Sebastian getting comfortable, reaching for a partially lit joint in an ashtray on the coffee table. Doesn’t look like he’s leaving anytime soon, so he can’t go yet.

“I’ll go grab a beer. You want one?”

You shake your head no as you rejoin Sebastian, closely on the couch, pinching at the burning paper against his lips.

“Nah I’m good boo. Thanks though.” You snatch it away from Sebastian withholding his chuckles, holding his hit with a thin grin. Aldis heads back to the kitchen, looking back at you two softly giggle and talk. It’s going to be a long night.

“You sure know how to throw a party.” Sebastian nudges your side as you blow a cloud of smoke into the air. “Had a lot of fun tonight. Can’t think the last time I’ve been this fucked up.” He stretches his long muscular body right up against you, resting his toned arms along the back of your sofa. His fragrance blankets your head and your skin prickles. Cutting your eyes up at him sinfully grinning back down on you, you hand him the joint with a tiny shake of your head.

“Glad you came through. Been a while.”

Been too long really. He missed your face, the way you smell. Working sucked because he couldn’t see you or talk to you. He always missed you when he was away too long. He lightly glides the edge of this thumb over the curve over your shoulder, licking his lips with a sigh. “Did you miss me?”

Sebastian’s barely doing a thing and you’re on fuckin fire, swallowing a knot in your throat as you fall deep into his icy eyes. “Little bit.”

Aldis returns, bottle pressed at his full lips, interrupting y’all again. His timing annoyingly impeccable tonight. Sebastian breaks his stare to look up at him sitting in a chair on the other side of the coffee table. Challenging each other with menacing scowls. He nods over at Aldis drinking his beer. “Has he been taking care of you in my absence?”

What a stupid question. “You already know I do man. Had plenty of fun while you were busy.” He rolls his eyes and takes another long drink. Who else was going to be around if not him?

Sebastian rolls his eyes too, setting his sights back on you still smoking and chilling in his side. “But I’m sure there were times that you preferred me. Isn’t that right Y/N?”

Here they go with their bullshit. And you really weren’t in the mood to entertain either of them. “Oh god. I said I missed you, alright Seb?”

The room falls silent, and Aldis watches Sebastian’s thumb seductively stroke your shoulder. He’s touching you just to push his buttons. Why was he acting like such a dick? Boring his stare at him as if he’s waiting for Aldis to react. But he won’t give Sebastian the satisfaction, so he just sits and drinks, ignoring Sebastian and watching you so foolishly carry on like you can’t feel the tension setting in the atmosphere.

You’re too high to care, let’s be real. They had been acting a little off most of the night and you don’t have the patience to deal with whatever they’re doing around you. You pass the joint back over to Sebastian, but he’s too busy eyeing Aldis gawking at you. He was always looking at you like a lovesick puppy. He wasn’t the only one who had a crush on you, and while he’d been trying to play it cool, Aldis was sneaking his way in. You two trying to play him like he wouldn’t notice. We’re just best friends. Well…so are you and him…so what the fuck? Where are y’all’s secret rendezvous, your private make out sessions in the dark?

“Think it’s time we address the elephants in the room,” Sebastian announces as he rises from the couch, grinning at you and Aldis’s confused faces.

Glaring at him through a cloud of smoke you grumble, “And what’s that Sebastian?”

“You two,” he points between you and Aldis exchanging a glance, then points between you and him and says, “And us two.”

You look up at him completely baffled by his actions. Your intoxicated brain can’t process what he’s trying to get at. “Dude, what?”

“He likes you, you like him. I like you, and you like me. So what the fuck are we going to do about it?”

“Nothing,” Aldis barks up at Sebastian drunkenly spillin the tea all over the place. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Sebastian chuffs, “Aldis, c’mon. You and I both know what’s going on here. That you like her and that she likes me and that’s why you won’t let me be alone with her. That you two have obviously hooked up couple times behind my back.”

“Hooked up?” Aldis coughs, choking on his beer as she quickly ashes the joint. How does he know that?!

She exhales one last time. “Behind your back?”

Y’all’s displaced shock meant nothing to him, did nothing but get on his last nerve. “Like I wouldn’t notice? The way he touches you, can’t stand us being too close? If we’re all supposed to be friends here, why this, why keep it a fuckin secret hmm?”

Busted. You two didn’t know what to say, completely caught off guard. You didn’t like the way he came at you about it, but you chalk it up to the substances in his system. Sebastian was way out of pocket for acting like this. So what you fucked up a few times with Aldis?

“Well for one, it’s none of your fuckin business.” Aldis starts, annoyed that Sebastian picked this night to hash out their bullshit. “Two, she didn’t want you to know for a reason.”

“Oh like I can’t handle the thought of you two fucking each other’s brains out?” Sebastian folds his arms. “I really don’t care. If you make her cum, then congrats Aldis. Really. I just think it’s my turn.”

“What?!” You and Aldis shout in unison.

He hums a chuckle, scratching his dimpled chin. “Yeah. Even the playing field. You two have a thing, and I want that too.”

How childish does that shit sounds. “Sebastian.”

“What. Tell me I’m wrong. It’s not like you don’t want me just as bad, or like me any less than him. So why not.” As he falls back into the couch, he buries his nose into the crook of your neck and inhales your scent, sweetly kisses your skin. Snuggling up into you as he snakes a curious hand up your skirt. “Just want a taste baby. Always wanted be between your thighs.”

Sebastian grips your squishy muscle, and you shoot an anxious look at Aldis watching him blatantly feel you up. You’re too fucked for this to make sense, to think straight, and his lips grazing up and down the slope of your neck doesn’t help. You don’t know if you should, but you’re dying to, keeping an eye on him stunned, a little outraged. You don’t know but you can’t deny…you do want Sebastian as bad as you want Aldis. So…why not just…give in…

He nudges under your jaw with the bridge of his nose. “Don’t fight me. Want you to give into me like you always wanted.” He whispers in your ear, easily inching his fingers closer and closer to your warmth. “What, you worried about him? He can watch. I don’t mind.”

Aldis can’t look away no matter how bad he wants to. “I might.” He can’t help but be turned on by your desperate little mewls, the way your body twitches under him taking you. Yeah he was mad, but this is hot. You’re so fuckin hot. Just look at you trying to be good for him by resisting a little, but good for Sebastian by leaning into his wet mouth, inviting him in parting your legs.

Sebastian tuts, nibbling along your jawline. “Then leave. Either way…I’m going to give her what she wants, which is me. So the choice is yours. Stay, and spectate. Or go, and drive yourself crazy imagining all the things I’m doing to her.” Then he gets a smart idea, darting his dicey gaze over at him all conflicted. “Or…you can stay and participate...”

The idea tenses up your body even more. As if you’ve never fantasized what it’d be like gasping for air between their swole bodies before. The middle of a Sebastian and Aldis sandwich? What a way to end the night…

But your first bestie ain’t with the shit, smacking his lips, trying not to focus on your pitiful moans. “Man you must be crazy…”

“What, don’t think you can handle it?” He barely traces the tip of his middle finger up your slit, and you grip his knee. “Think she can…practically burning up thinking about us sharing you, aren’t you Y/N?” Another tantalizing pet and your pussy convulses.

“Oh fuck! Uh huh!”

Aldis’s dick throbs at the sound of your gasp, trying to control his shaky breathing. “You…you can’t be serious…”

Another needy gasp flees your dry lips. Sebastian dips his finger inside to test the waters. And the waters feel just fuckin fine. “Mmm…feels like she’s very serious…” So he dives in, shoving his partnered fingers inside your fluttering hole, purring behind a slinky grin. You’re so hot, and sticky, his dick stiffens along his thigh. God he can’t wait to be inside you your velvety walls feel so good on his prints. Bet you’ll feel even better squeezing his dick. The thought sent a chill down his spine. “How about this? Since it’s my first time, I go first making a pretty mess out of her, and you, Aldis, can assist where I need you.” He smiles, curling his fingers to find that spot that’ll make you cream, just to make Aldis squirm. He knew he’d like that.

“Excuse me? Assist you?” The fuck does he look like?

You’re sinking into the couch cushions, moaning over and over, clawing his knee. How pretty you look mouth open, breast heaving, jerking your hips. This is like a fuckin dream come true to him…controlling your body with his fingers or tongue or dick. Your wetness dripping down into the palm of his hand. You didn’t know where to look, up at your tormentor or over at the conflicted party pooper over there. How did he not want to come over here and have a hand in turning you out?

“Yeah, like right now…you should get over here and suck the other side of her neck, pinch her nipples under her blouse to really get her wet…”

“Oh my god,” you cry out.

“Then maybe I’ll drop to my knees, and bury my mouth in this perfect pussy of yours while he kisses you with those lips you love. Overheard you telling a friend how much you love them.” Sebastian strokes you harder, faster, chuckling at Aldis shifting in his seat. “Trying to make me jealous? You don’t have to do that baby I’m already plenty jealous.”

“Fuck Sebastian I wasn’t trying to—,”

“Sshh, sshh baby it’s ok. I don’t care. Make me jealous it just makes me want you more.” He chuckles a twisted laugh as he licks your neck, and you gasp out in shock. He returns his attention back to Aldis stuck stupid across the room, trying to ignore his raging dick in his pants leg. “So what’s it going to be Aldis? Gonna join in on the fun? Cuz I think she’s about to cum any minute now…and by the looks of it, I don’t think you wanna miss out.”

Aldis drops his bottle as he flies out of the chair and into the empty seat next to you moaning and groaning, following Sebastian’s orders, latching his perfect lips to his spot on your neck, sucking gingerly like he always does. You just about curl off the couch but Sebastian and Aldis push you back into position, their heavy fingers pressed into your shaky sternum.

“Sit still until I say otherwise,” Sebastian’s demands as he removes his fingers and sticks them in his mouth for you, slippin onto the floor with a sick grin. “Gotta be a good girl for us.”

“Mmmmhmmmmm…” you deflate, grabbing at Aldis’s hand massaging your tits under your blouse, eagerly bucking your hips in his handsome face. You’d always wanted to see him down on his knees like that and it was better than any daydream.

Sebastian’s hands feel perfect on your bare knees, prying your timid legs open to meet your soaking wet pussy. The smell of your heat makes him devilishly hum behind his curled lips, admiring how pretty your fluttering folds are.

“Someone didn’t wear panties tonight.” He teases as he glides his fingertips up your slit, toying with your clit. “So who were you expecting? Me or him…”

“Me,” Aldis mutters against your hot skin, guiding his puckered lips up your chin. “It’s been a while. But then you had to throw a tipsy bitch fit.” He kisses you hard to remind you that he’s here, no matter how good Sebastian’s making you feel. You help him inch your skirt up your cocoa thighs, panting and salivating at the sight of Sebastian’s sinister grin, his nails digging into your hot skin as he nears your throbbing lips.

“Hmm…looks like we both had our own plans tonight. But I like this one even more. This way, we all get what we want…”

Your breath catches with a sharp gasp. Sebastian’s tongue wiggling inside you is fuckin divine, and he richly moans, opening his mouth wider to swallow your pussy whole. Aldis roughly pinches your nipple, biting your earlobe with a hard exhale, wishing it was him making you sound so heavenly. Sebastian intensely holds your gaze, making such a mess, flicking the tip of his tongue up and down your clit. Going in so hard it’s absolutely hypnotizing to watch. You’re hardly breathing, your chest aching, drooling and mewling as his tongue slithers and penetrates your open folds. But when Aldis notices you two connecting, he pinches your chin and turns you so he can slip his fat tongue into your mouth. Swear he tries not to be jealous of Sebastian but he can’t help it. There’s just something about the way you two click, the energy between y’all is…flat out intimidating.

Sometimes he wondered how could he compete against y’all’s sheer magnetism. A real concern of his because how can Aldis fight that. But then he’s reminded every time you two have an intense fuck that there is no competition. There was nothing small or fake about those nights in your bed, on his floor, the way you screamed his name as you came. You press so hard into his mouth with this needy whine that vibrates down his thick throat, pushing him back a bit, taking a nice firm bite off his bottom lip. Slapping a hand on the back of his head, you keep him close as you eat his face, riding Sebastian feast at your pussy. He buries his mouth deeper, rubs his scruffy chin into your creamy lips, stretches his tongue as far as it can go as you fist and yank on his hair. He won’t let Aldis distract you. They exchange a knowing glance.

“Oh fuck Sebastian. You’re gonna make me cum so fuckin hard! Fuck!”

Fuck. That’s the only word to describe how you feel, to describe this exact moment. Sebastian’s trying to lure your orgasm out with the curl of his tongue, Aldis sucking on your stiff nipples with swirls of his. Hyperventilating, you’re shouting up to the ceiling, “oh my god, oh my god fuck!” just as heat floods your hips and thighs. Sebastian curves his tongue to hug your convulsing slit, groaning for you to, “cum…cum for me baby…” as he slams his fingers in and out, and that does the trick.

You fall apart with a small, “oh shit,” shuddering uncontrollably, eyes rolled back. Aldis falls back to watch you, swallowing down an enticed moan. Your hand falls into his lap, right onto his trembling hard on, and even in your orgasmic fog, you give it an excited tug. He bucks his hips with a quiet hiss. Sebastian can’t stop rubbing and gripping your shaky muscles, craving more but he’s lost you to him.

“Aldis…” you pull down his zipper with a tired but aroused sigh, “you liked that?”

He didn’t want to but yeah he really did. He had to admit. Dropping his chin he timidly nods, resting his forehead against yours, heaving a muted growl as you pull him hot and rigid. Sebastian’s sticky grin sinfully curls.

“See…nothing wrong with a little sharing…” He slips his middle finger through his puckered lips, sucking you off his skin before he sinks it back inside your worn out pussy. You whimper, tightening your grip over the fat head of Aldis’s dick, and he weakly moans, “fuck…”

“You’re so hard boo.” Delicately you trail your fingertips up and down his length, smirking at Sebastian still lightly toying with your clit. “Need my pussy?”

He barks a longing moan; he can’t hold it back anymore. You had a strong hold on him. Aldis shouldn’t be this turned on from helping a friend get you off. He should be the only one getting you off. But tonight…he can’t help himself. Aldis anxiously nods, grabbing ahold of your waist and yanking you away from Sebastian into his lap.

“What about me?” He pouts standing to his feet.

You wickedly grin up at him, stroking Aldis’s dick with two hands. “Think you’ve had enough for now Sebastian…” Aldis relaxes back into the cushions with a lustful moan, rolling you and his hips off the couch. Looking into Sebastian’s eyes you spit down onto his dick, spreading it all around his tip to drive him crazy. He squeezes your body with a breathless gasp. Sebastian lifts an intrigued eyebrow as he stands directly in front of you and Aldis, pulling his shirt out of his pants and unbuckling his belt. Your folds flutter as you watch him drop his pants for you, revealing his rock hard abs and dick a little wet in his boxer briefs. Licking his lips, he rubs a strong flat hand down his front and flutters his eyes closed with a sinful smile.

“Mmm…that’s fine baby. I don’t mind watching you getting fucked. Bet it’s so fuckin sexy…” He affectionately grazes a knuckle down your jaw.

Aldis grumbles, “you’re about to find out…” lifting you up to drop you down his throbbing dick. The second the leaky tip of his dick felt your cum covered folds, he anxiously sighs out. You’re still dripping wet, absolutely flushed with arousal; his dick pierced right through with little to no struggle. Sebastian wasn’t kidding…you were definitely into being fucked by the both of them. Aldis has never felt you this wet before it was a little overwhelming. As he dips your lower back, he withdraws and roughly pounds into you as a friendly reminder who your pussy initially belongs to. Sebastian’s dick painfully convulses at the sound of your shocked shrill and he whimpers, fisting his dick inside his underwear.

“Take this off,” he meekly commands, pinching at your top and you throw it right off, tossing it away. “Again, Aldis…”

But this time, he pulls out more, giving himself more room to slam your pussy back down into his pelvis, to make your tits bounce. Dick so deep in your stomach you flinch in pain. Sebastian purrs in satisfaction.

“Is it too much for you?”

Hanging your head you nod, whining as Aldis runs a soothing hand down your curved spine, tenderly pumping you to get you all warmed up for the beating he’s ready to give you.

“But she can take it…” he mumbles, watching his cream covered dick glide in and out your swollen folds. “Fuck…open your legs…”

Obeying you spread your thighs wider and shudder, lifting your weepy eyes back at Sebastian touching himself, and your mouth waters.

“Fuck you feel so good…” Aldis slaps your ass a couple times, clawing a hand down your back as he slows his stroke. “

“She looks so fuckin good too…” Sebastian’s jaw drops in awe; you open your mouth and expose your flat tongue, inviting him to fuck your face. His haughty breath catches as he hesitantly brushes his head over your tastebuds, and he just about falls apart from how amazing it felt. “Oh fuck baby…”

You won’t let him get away, following his motions to secure your tongue around his tip, inhaling him in between your pouty lips. As soon as his weight presses onto your tongue, you suction around its bulbous head and Sebastian exhales a croaky moan.

Aldis checks how desperate you are for his dick over your shoulder with a dark chuckle. “So damn greedy…like you never had dick in your mouth before…”

“I’m into it…needy little slut…” Sebastian caresses your wet chin, tipping it up so he can ease his dick further back over your wiggling tongue, shooting you a flirty wink as he watches you guzzle him down. “Fuck suck my dick baby…wanna feel the back of your throat…”

Dripping fluids from both ends, you’re so fuckin full of Sebastian and Aldis absolutely fuckin the shit out of you. Gagging and whining, tears flowing from the corners of your blurry eyes, and you’re in heaven. Their chorus of moans and grunts makes your whole body tremor in thrill. Sebastian’s burning grey eyes fill your vision. Aldis’s thick fingers sink into your flesh. Your pussy can’t stop spurting out around his veiny girth, lines of drool ooze down your throat from your puffy lips. You don’t want them to stop.

“Shit…think I’m gonna cum…” Sebastian whispers, palming the back of your head.

“Fuck me too…” Readjusting you on his lap he sits up a bit, snaking a hand around your hip to play with your sensitive clit. “It’s too fuckin good…squeezing the fuck out of my dick baby…”

You slap a hand around his wrist with a high pitched muffled mewl, twitching between he and Sebastian determined to beat the other to completion. And Aldis is going to bring you along with them.

“Mmm…can’t wait to be next…the way her pussy clenched just my tongue…” Sebastian heaves a big happy sigh, leaning his head back with a whimsical grin. He’s so close to cumming down your open throat it makes his balls tingle in ecstasy. Can’t believe how willing and able you are for them. Did you guys’ friendship just establish new terms? He really hopes so…he definitely could do this again… “Aww shit Y/N…I—I’m—fuck!”

His dick aggressively pulses between your tired jaws, and you gasp out as his hot load shoots over your tastebuds. Sebastian scratches your scalp as he fists your hair, cursing how insane it feels to finally cum in your perfect mouth. Your perfect little pussy’s next. You swallow every trace of him with lively whimpers, seductively batting your lashes up at him panting like a dog in heat. A fresh new look in his cool gaze.

Brushing his thumb down your cheek he hums, “you’re so fuckin beautiful…” falling out of you with a big jolly smile. Cupping your tired jaw, he leans down to whisper into your open mouth, “I’m going to fuckin ruin you.”

An erotic chill cascades all over your limp body. His low gravelly voice flows directly to your pussy already quivering with your impending orgasm manipulated by Aldis’s twirling fingertip. Imagining Sebastian fucking the shit out of you into the wee hours of the night floods your walls, squelching around his fat dick picking up the pace. God the way he fucks you with everything in his massive body, every single time, drives you crazy. What kept you slipping up and falling into his muscular arms over and over again. But now that you’ve fucked around and found out with Sebastian, maybe you can switch it up from time to time.

“You want him that bad? Fuck.” Aldis chokes, hips stuttering under your clapping ass, about to bust himself. You’re drenched, gushing down his tight balls, sucking his load up with your clamped textured walls.

Sebastian graciously falls to his knees. “Go on. Tell him,” he softly mumbles as he dips down to kiss the hull of your jaw, smirking at your skittish sigh.

“God…fuck yes I want him,” you confess, nuzzling into his wanton mouth, rocking your hips back and forth, ready to cum just as hard as before. “Want him to fuck me so bad Aldis…can’t help it…”

“Can’t resist me…” His damp tongue glides up the slope of your neck.

“Fuck.” You cry, about to lose all control.

Aldis strongly holds you down, grinds his hips into your palpitating folds. “Oh my god I’m fuckin cumming.”

And so are you, grabbing ahold of Sebastian’s hair with both hands and yanking him back to stare deep into his glassy eyes as you squirt all over the sofa, squealing Aldis’s name in his red face. His load slips out and around his dick still trembling inside you. Aldis collapses back into the couch with an exhausted groan, rubbing your shuddering spine with his toothy smirk. Giggling down at Sebastian you release your hold and comb your fingers through his messy hair.

“Good fuckin party…” He chuckles, sweetly kissing your chin. “Haven’t had this much fun in ages…”

“We’re not done yet.” You steal a passionate kiss off his pouty lips, raising your feeble hips off Aldis’s lap, your combined cum slipping out of your swollen folds.

“Mmm…baby…but he’s still dripping out your pussy,” Sebastian catches you falling into his arms, sitting back on the floor, pushing your coffee table out the way.

“I don’t care. Don’t wanna wait.” You catch yourself on the edge of the table, rolling your soiled folds over his dick.

Aldis shakes his head at you with a scoff, stuffing his sore dick back inside his boxers. “When she wants it…” he snorts putting himself together, standing over you two hysterically making out. “Fuckin exhausted, so have fun you two…”

He steps over you pulling Sebastian’s shirt off with a hungry smile, stroking your hair as he goes, leaving you to your own vices. His hands grace the side of your neck, the curve of your waist, fluidly pumping your achy pussy. You’re still so warm, clammy, still full of his cum, but you still feel divine.

“Better rest up Aldis…” he calls after him retreating to your bedroom, cupping your breasts in his warm palms, flicking your nipples with his thumbs. You slot your hands up the back of his neck, gradually riding him growing harder inside you. Gazing up at you in awe, Sebastian nibbles and kisses at your nipples, whimpering your name in your prickled brown skin. His wildest fantasy’s finally coming true. You embrace his scruffy cheek with a pleasant smile, gently moaning out the further he reaches between your fluttering walls.

“Is this everything you wanted?” Because you know it is for you. You huff an ardent sigh, nudging your nose along his, pecking the curve of his top lip.

“And then some…” Sebastian grins kissing you in return, licking at your parted lips, swiftly pumping you with a breathless chuckle. “Love being your best friend…”

[geminixevans-stan]

I -

This was an unexpected pair but they work so well. Seb talking his shit and Aldis laying expert dick is something I can sign up for. Whew! This definitely was a great read

[boxofbonesfic]

this (obviously) doesn't include the 5+ anonymous users i blocked, but hopefully you guys can prevent maybe this same level of harassment by blocking these blogs. pretty sure they're all run by kthk1tty and n4tlll, just making one alt after another to continue the harassment. so if you want to preemptively block to stay sane, i think that would be a good idea.

[boxofbonesfic]

edit: instead of just blocking preemptively, could you guys also report? maybe if a lot of people report these users, they might block the IP's site access or something. that way what happened to me this week doesn't have to happen to anyone else.

[geminixevans-stan]

Everyone read this and report these accounts. Pretty sure it’s the same person that is trying to steal work and feed it to ai generators because they feel entitled.

[geminixevans-stan]

You know…

People just want to have fun. People want to be able to have a safe space where they can express themselves and do what they love.

But because of you entitled, miserable, unworthy pieces of shit, these people can’t do that.

There are people that like to bully because they have nothing else better in their life and that’s nobody’s fault but your own. You get to hide and make multiple accounts to try and get what you want because they have a life full of despair.

Thank you for showing your true colors and how insufferable you can be. Because of this bullying we have one of the most talented writers I have ever seen be ran off this site. Tumblr used to be a fun platform but so many people have become entitled to free work.

They can’t fathom how to actually wait for something because they think the world revolves around them. Well let’s get one thing straight: No one owes you one fucking thing and you should go back to wherever you came from because you don’t belong here.

Go to hell. I hope you find nothing but incomplete work for as long as you’re on here. I hope you’re paid dust because you deserve nothing.

Also tumblr @staff @support @engineering …. Make an option where when an anon is blocked, that they can’t make a new account to harass someone over and over. You want to have longevity? Actually listen to the people that make this site worth coming back to.

[syntheticavenger]

Let Him Loose (Preview)

As promised, here is a preview of what I am working on. A slow build to be sure but it's been a while since I posted something and I'm still working on closing up some fics but life has been extremely busy!

I'll also be responding to those in my inbox - I didn't forget you, I promise!

Dennis Baker x Female Reader

Word Count: 925

Warnings: None for now, just some world building.

-

He keeps his eyes on the road, lifting a shaky hand to bring the insulated mug to his lips, swallowing down a sip as an 80’s synth pop song plays faintly in the background. Dennis has always been a nervous sort but today he’s much worse for wear, talkative at first about his new promotion until the city became a distant past, the highway stretching longer than before, his silence almost unnerving. His fingers grip the steering wheel tight, a cheerful commercial breaking through as you strain to listen to it.

“Come on down to Delilah’s Discount Deals! Where there’s something for everyone,” the upbeat spokesperson invites before the music starts again.

Enough is enough.

Your boyfriend’s jaw is clenched so tight that you wonder if he’ll break a tooth, placing your hand on his over the gear shift as he looks down under his clear framed glasses.

“Hey,” you begin, seeing him smile for a scant second. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” he answers, his eyes going back on the road. “Why?”

“Because you’ve barely said two words since we left?”

“Sorry. Just got a lot on my mind.”

His phone alerts with another incoming text message and then another before he exhales loudly.

“She won’t let up,” Dennis says forlornly. “I’m driving as fast as I can. Why they need me there before tomorrow is ridiculous, it’s not like we’re part of their plan.”

He accelerates slightly, your fingers pressing into the plush leather armrest as he begins to slow.

It’s not a secret that he doesn’t want to see his family for the holidays. He’s been putting it off for months – years even – but a promotion, even one that he had excitedly told his parents, had been a cause for a celebration that ended up becoming mandatory, by his family offering to host you both for the holiday, not taking no for an answer.

There’s not much you know about his family. Ever since you started dating, he’s been careful to navigate how he speaks about them to you. It wasn’t the best upbringing, that much you know as he’s shared that much. He grew up poor, bullied for his glasses and calm demeanor, ostracized for leaving the small town he grew up in for a scholarship for college and never looking back, let alone to visit. His parents, Dennis had told you, were proud people – proud of who they were and where they came from.

It was obvious that Dennis didn’t agree and knowing how stressed he was, it didn’t make sense for you to push the issue, not when you knew that topic is one he still tries to avoid.

“We don’t have to go,” you speak up, Dennis shaking his head slowly, eyes still on the road.

“That won’t go over well. Just better to get it over with.”

“Dennis,” you admonish, seeing him reach for his coffee again. “They’re your parents.”

“I know. They’re gonna love you, you know.”

As much of a comfort as that gives you, it’s the sadness in his voice that almost feels envious. Still, you don’t press, quietly looking at the window as the trees whizz past.

“You don’t seem excited.”

“I’m not,” he answers matter-of-factly, picking up his phone to glance at the text message before he places it back down, a look of dread appearing on his features.

“What is it?”

“My brother will be there.”

“Oh?” you ask, watching him take another gulp of coffee. “You haven’t seen him in a while, right? Sounds like a family reunion.”

“I wouldn’t call it that but sure.”

“What’s your brother like?” you ask, trying to get him to open up. Whatever the text message was, it didn’t please Dennis in the slightest, seeing him turn the phone face down in the cup holder.

“The favorite.”

“The favorite?” you repeat, Dennis still looking straight ahead, his fingers flexing slightly.

“Yeah.”

That’s all the response you will get, you realize, Dennis giving a short shrug. You know nothing about his brother, only that he has one, something muttered when you were first starting to date but the subject was dropped quickly.

“He’ll like you,” he says, almost bitterly. “You’ll like him too.”

“How do you know?”

You sound accusatory but you don’t mean it. Dennis seems so resolved that he’ll be cast aside that you find yourself getting defensive, as if he doesn’t believe you won’t be on his side.

“Because he’s the rugged type. I’ve seen the books you read,” Dennis chides with a slight smile that is gone before you can appreciate it. “He’s like that.”

“Books are books, they aren’t you,” you remind him, flashing him a smile. “Those books don’t have your self-deprecating jokes, your thoughtfulness and care. You know that.”

He smiles finally – a real smile with a flash of pearly white teeth – before he settles back into his seat.

“Just promise one thing,” Dennis says after a short pause, slowing to look at you for a moment. “Stay inside when it starts to get dark when we get there. Probably a silly superstition but it’s important. Promise?”

You want to make a joke but you know better, especially with how serious Dennis has become again. You’ll ask your questions later, when he’s not so agitated.

“I promise,” you recite.

“Good,” he says with a sigh of relief. “My family loves their traditions, Ari even more so. Let’s just ease you in slow so you don’t get overwhelmed.”

“Who is Ari?” you ask.

“My older brother.”

[geminixevans-stan]

Now what happens at night?! But I love this intro it shows just how much Dennis really hates going around his family

[geminixevans-stan]

I have to know, is that one ask talking about babyboibucky?

I’ve never seen babyboibucky before but no it’s not 🙂

[boxofbonesfic]

hey nonnie, with love, please choke. to death. sincerely, me ❤️

p.s. i mean it. ❤️

[geminixevans-stan]

Honestly you deserve the worst karma ever. Idc who you are but you need to get your head out your ass and get off this site. To try and pressure her for finishing her fics where there are multiple writers who have done the same lets me know you think writers are pack mules.

Furthermore, bitch if you want a fic finished so bad get your lazy ass up, actually think for yourself for once and write your own shit. But you can’t do that because you’re a tired ass, lazy ass, unoriginal ass bitch. You want to pressure bones but in reality your life is so fucked up that all you can do is be a scary bitch behind anonymous. You don’t possess an 1/8 of the talent that she has and you thought it was okay to try to scare her with AI finishing her fics?

How would you like it if I used ai or other powers to find out who you really are. How about we do that so we can see what scary bitch is hiding behind these fucked up asks.

Bitch you better go back to the colonizing side of tumblr and leave her tf alone. The nerve of you mfs for rushing writers as if they don’t have lives. The nerve of you to think you’re entitled to something that doesn’t belong to you.

You bitches have completely lost the plot and I hope in some miraculous way everything that you use just goes the fuck away. Like I hope you get banned from everything you like. You don’t deserve to have anything nice because you’re a scary thieving ass bitch. So the next time you want to threaten her over her own work remember this: You still won’t get what you want.

[johnnysilverhandssuitcasenuke]