#And “look- I’ve been in and out of juvie

[sondheim-girly]

I was trying to figure out what outsiders ship a light or something would be, and hear me out: dallypop??? Like… it actually works really well??? Someone talk to me about this???

[spacerockfloater]

I’m going to preface this post by saying I don’t give a flying fuck about the hate I’m going to receive for the opinion I will be sharing and I won’t bother replying to any comments attacking me for it.

I fucking LOVE that Aemond killed Luke and I wish it wasn’t accidental. I wish Luke’s death was full on intentional, lol.

As a victim of bullying, I’ve been in situations where I have had to fend off 20+ kids as a kid myself. I’ve been verbally, physically, emotionally and psychologically assaulted as a child by other children, simply because I wanted, strived for and had good grades in school, actions that did not affect any of my classmates in the slightest. Therefore, I absolutely sympathise with Aemond, whose lack of dragon and later on his acquisition of one hurt no one (dragons belong to no one, you snooze you lose), yet he still got ridiculed and attacked for it. Yes, Aegon was also a bully and I hate him for it, but ultimately he grows out of it and supports his family, unlike the Strong bastards who remain bullies and assaulters. Oh, and Aemond tried to hit Jace with a rock because he attacked him first. Accusing him for standing up for himself is victim blaming. People who defend the Strong boys are bullies and that’s final.

No, I don’t give a rat’s ass that his attackers were children. Aemond was a child, too, and they ganked him 4v1. It’s crazy how some of y’all support physically attacking someone because you don’t agree with them. It was satisfying to see him kick their teeth in. Aemond and Luke are only 2 years apart, even if the actors’ appearances suggest otherwise. Your age does not excuse you being a fucking piece of shit. Children and teenagers appear on the news daily as rapists, killers, assaulters and all kind of criminals. That’s the reason juvie exists. Children should face the consequences of their actions.

“Are you excusing child murder?” if it is by the hand of the child they unapologetically disabled, fuck yeah. Besides, at the end of the day, Aemond dies, too, so you could say justice is served.

Still, I would have given the Strong boy the benefit of the doubt if it weren’t for this scene:

Lucerys is laughing at Aemond.

He is looking him in the eye and he is laughing at him. It’s been 6 fucking years. Lucerys is 17 (confirmed by the writers) and he feels no remorse for what he did. He was not punished for his action, so he has learned nothing.

He feels safe to mock Aemond, in the comfort and safety of his grandfather’s house, where his guard and stepdad can stop Aemond, whom he cannot beat on his own, from bashing his head against the wall. He feels safe to attack Aemond when he calls him Strong, knowing that other people will finish the fight he started but can’t win.

But what happens when no one is around to protect him from the consequences of his own actions? He shits himself. His face falls, he stumbles backwards and does not object to Aemond calling him Strong.

Not laughing now, huh, you little shit stain?

[ruewrote]

𝑑𝑜𝑛𝑡 𝑤𝑎𝑛𝑛𝑎 𝑏𝑒 𝑎𝑙𝑜𝑛𝑒.

PAIRING: carl gallagher x fem!reader WARNINGS: none GENRE: angst? mostly fluff SONG INSPIRATION: there for you by martin garrix WORD COUNT: 748

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it had been well past dark when you got the call. carl’s words coming out frantic and rushed. this would happen on occasion, he felt the most comfort talking to you about his problems, thoughts and feelings.

as of late he had been drifting from you doing god knows what, whatever it was — it distanced the two of you. it hurt you, cut deep.

you were always connected at the hip ever since you had started high school. carl had taken an interest in you almost instantly, it started with him sitting at the other end of your empty table at lunch, a greeting of a small nod, turned into a wave and more.

it wasn’t hard to fall in love with carl, whatsoever.

it made it easier as he’d make sure no one messed with you in school,

as he’d walk you home to make sure you were safe even though you lived down the street from him.

even helped him with studies after juvie.

you wrote him every single day, not knowing if he would write back or even care.

he did.

he’d never let you know but he had saved each and every note that you sent to him in a little box under his bed, carl knew no one would ever go under there so it was his little secret.

fiona was beyond grateful for you. not just for looking out for carl, but for when you’d offer to babysit liam or help out with some chores around the house.

you were basically part of the family. being there every single time monica decided to turn up and do a shitty job of parenting then flunk off when it didn’t go to plan.

holding carl as he cried in your arms everytime, until the day when she passed and it was time where he had to finally come to terms with it all.

the point is, you had been through a lot with him so whenever you’d get a call no matter what time or day you’d pick up.

this had been one of those times.

“i-i’m sorry for calling, i k-know that i’ve not been in touch lately and i was so stupid for not c-calling you sooner — b-but i need you.”

with that said you ended the call, throwing on your slippers — crawling out of your window and making a run for the gallagher's front door.

you didn't care about the chance of someone seeing you running down the street in your pyjamas not like it'd be the weirdest anyone would see around here.

sliding to a stop as you arrived at the house, he was sat on the bottom step, head in his hands.

"oh carl..."

gasping as you saw the stitches in his forehead, instantly running over and grasping his face in your hands checking him over asking him a thousand questions at once.

but stopping mid sentence when you notice the tear stains on his cheeks - as his bottom lip wobbled at the familiarity of it all.

"im s-sorry for calling you so late-" his apologies were cut short as you pulled him into a hug. he sobbed into your shoulder, eyes tearing up as you feel him collapse into your touch.

sitting down where he had sat previously not letting go of him in the process.

carl's hands dug into the soft material of your shirt as his sobs turned to sniffles.

he pulled away just enough so you could see his face, letting you gently wipe away his tears.

“do you want to talk about it?” the only response you got was a shaken head.

“well if it helps i’ve missed your dumbass.” punching his arm lightly before leaning into his side, listening to the sound of your light breathing and dogs barking in the distance.

“'missed you too, it’s been too long since i last saw you.” you just gave him a slight nod as the sadness takes over you and a frown replaces your smile.

you and carl decided to make your way to 7/11 to get slushies, catching up as you walked home hand-in-hand, bumping each others shoulders as you walked down the path to your house.

slipping back into your window, bundling up under the covers.

carl laying on your chest, you stroking his hair lulling the both of you into a deep sleep.

you’d decided that you wouldn't let time come between the pair of you again.

© ruewrote.

[boredfantasizer]

Obsessed. (Matthew Sturniolo)

Obsessed. (Matthew Sturniolo)

WARNINGS:  Drug abuse, physical abuse, PTSD, smut, stalking, teen drinking. Toxic!Matt (if you squint) / tension building / cursing / SMUT / p in v / unprotected sex / Dom!Matt / pet names. Mentions of selling the female body for pleasure, abusive father, fight.

TROPES: Slow burn, Stranger to lover, Stalker to lover, Enemies to lovers.

MATT’S POV: It was the morning; I went to school and spot my friends in the hallway I walk up to them and say hi to them. After a few moments of talking, I noticed they all tensed up as you walked in the hallway to go to your class. I look at my friends and furrow my brows in confusion from their change in demeanor.

            “What the hell are you guys suddenly scared of? Y’all look like fucking idiots.” I say chuckling at how dumb they look now.

            “Her.” One of my friends say in a timid tone, I look in the direction they we’re looking at and spot you. You we’re walking by phone in your hands. You looked like a regular teenage girl so obviously I look at my friends like they’re stupid. “What about her?” I ask them.

            They all turn to me and look at me like I grew two heads.

            “What? Why are y’all looking at me like that?”

“Do you not know who she is?” One of my friends asked me.

“No?” I say in a confused tone.

My friends all turn to me and tilt their heads to the side, it looks like they’re judging me which in turn makes me more confused.

            “Dude… She’s fucking crazy, she’s been in and out of juvie and foster homes, group homes. She’s been kicked out of three schools already, she just got back from being suspended. You remember that big fight that happened a few days ago with and Angela ended up with a dislocated jaw?”

            “Yeah, I remember people talking about it, I didn’t see it though. Why?”              “That was her.” My friend says he points to you and my eyes widen in shock and amusement.

“Still, you guys look like a bunch of pussies for being scared of a girl. Watch, I’ll talk to her, and you’ll see there’s nothing to be scared of. Y’all are just pussies.” I start to walk towards you then my another one of my friends call out.

“Matt don’t! She’s dangerous don’t talk to her.” He yells, a hint of panic in his voice. I turn around still walking, now walking backwards, ��I’ll be fine watch.” I turn back around and continue walking towards you. You were at a locker; I am assuming is yours.

Y/N’S POV:

I was at a locker, it wasn’t mine, in fact I didn’t know the person who owns the locker. I was eating an apple when I heard a voice next to me. “Hey” the voice said. I turn and see a boy, I’ve seen him around, but I’ve never talked to him; he’s attractive but I don’t pay attention to him much. I throw the apple in the locker and close it then turn to face the boy. “What do you want?” I say in an annoyed tone.             “Just wanted to say hi.” The boy says.             “Well you said it. Now goodbye.” I turned and walked away from him to my class.

*Time skip*

Lunchtime rolled around I grabbed my food and went to sit at an empty table. I pull out my phone and headphones from my backpack, I plug in my headphones and listen to music while I eat, suddenly I see the shadow of someone in front of me. I look up and see the boy from this morning at the locker. I pull one earcup from my ear and look at him.

“What?” I say in an annoyed tone.

“Thought you might want company.” The boy says.

            “Well, you thought wrong so scram.” I speak.

“Oh, come on don’t be like that… What are you listening to?” The boy asks.

“I’m not going to get rid of you, huh?”

“Nope. I’m in too deep, what are you listening too?” He says as he takes a fry from my tray and pops it into his mouth. I roll my eyes and scoff but answer anyways.  

“Paranoid by Chase Atlantic.” I say dryly, trying to end the conversation as soon as possible.             “Oh you an angel sweetheart?” He says in a teasing tone which I don’t enjoy.             “Don’t call me sweetheart it’s weird.” I say in a harsh firm tone.            

He chuckled softly at my annoyance, finding your feisty personality amusing. He tilted his head slightly, studying you intently. “What should I call you then, princess?"

"That's worse." My patience running thin the more this fucker talks.             He chuckled softly again, clearly enjoying my annoyance. "Alright, alright, I won't call you princess then. Though I have to say you are kind of acting like one right now." He smirked slightly, enjoying the way I get agitated whenever he called me pet names.

God, I want to punch him in the face, I roll my eyes "I'm going to go." I stand up, throw the rest of my food away and head for the cafeteria doors

He watches as I stand up and make my way to the cafeteria doors, his smile fading slightly. He didn't want to let you leave just yet. Without thinking, he stands up quickly and walks up behind you.

"Wait." he says, grabbing my wrist gently.

I yank my hand back the second his skin contacts mine

"What?!" I yell.

He winced slightly when I yanked my hand back, but he tried to hide it. He shoved his hands into his pockets and met my gaze, his expression serious.

"Why do you have to be so damn stubborn? You can't seriously think I'm going to just let you walk away like that."

“What do you want… Make it quick.” I speak.

            He took a step closer to me    , his eyes never leaving mine. He let out a small sigh before speaking, his tone more serious than before.

"I want you to stop being so defensive all the time. You don't have to act like you hate everyone and everything. Why are you so damn closed off?”

My intense exterior falters, my thoughts immediately go to my childhood, I compose myself and look at him intensely. I speak in a harsh tone.

"Don't worry about shit that doesn't concern you."

He notices the way my exterior falters but doesn't point it out. He takes a step closer, standing just inches away from me now.

"Everything that has to do with you concerns me." He said, his voice firm but gentle at the same time. "I just don't understand why you're so closed off all the time. Why can't you let anyone in?"

"You don't even know my name! Why do fucking care so much about a random girl?!" I snap at him, yelling at him clearly pissed off at the fact that he won't take a goddamn hint and leave me alone.

He took a step back, slightly taken aback by my sudden change in demeanor. He could hear the anger in your voice. He took a deep breath.

"I don't know your name because you won't tell me!" He retorted, his voice rising slightly. "And I care because I can tell there's more to you than you are letting on!"

"I don't know you! I don't know your name! And you don't know my name! I'm not interested leave me the fuck alone!"

"Why are you being so damn difficult?! Can't you just let me in for one goddamn minute?" He exclaimed, his voice raising in volume as his frustration grew

“No." I yell at him and walk out of the cafeteria doors. MATT’S POV:

And that was it… She walked off. I didn't know why I was so hell-bent on getting to know you better. Maybe it was the way you acted so closed off and defensive. Maybe it was the fact that you were so damn attractive. Maybe it was both. I didn't know.

I spent the rest of the day constantly thinking about you. Even throughout my classes, I didn't seem to concentrate on anything else. I tried to push the thoughts of you out of my mind, but I just couldn't. Your feisty demeanor stuck in my head like glue. As soon as the final bell rang, I grabbed my things and quickly made my way outside trying to get home as soon as possible but when I saw you… Something clicked in me, I decided to follow you home.

 I kept a distance, trying not to make it too obvious that I was following you. I know it was kind of creepy, but I can't help it. I needed to get to the bottom of why you were so damn closed off all the time. I needed to break down those walls you had built up so high. As you walked, I kept my eyes on you, watching your every move, my mind racing with thoughts and questions like ‘Why do you look to damn hot?’ ‘Why we’re you so closed off?’ ‘Why did you go to juvie so many times?’ Then I started getting dirtier thoughts, I started thinking about the way your body looked in the clothes you wore today. Thinking about what’s under those clothes. And how your nails would feel digging into my shoulders as I make you feel good, how you would look under me and on top of me.

We get to your house, and I hide in a nearby bush hoping you don’t see me. I look up at your house. It’s a two-story house, it looks old, but still livable. I take my phone out of my back pocket and open Google Maps, trying to see the location. Once I find it, I favorite it. I have intentions of coming back here. I notice as you open the door and swing it closed behind you. Once I see that you are inside, I step out of the bush and walk around. Trying to look for an entrance, I saw a cracked window. I go up to it and push it up further and come inside, I see you in the kitchen. You have your headphones on listening to music and dancing around a bit as you get a snack. I chuckle softly at the sight and hide behind the couch. After you finish your snack you start heading upstairs.

As you walk up the stairs you take off your shirt, leaving you in your bra. My breath hitches and I continue following you. You take off your headphones and I instantly hide, you head inside the bathroom, and I hear the shower, I sigh in relief look down and notice the tightness in my pants. I shake my head and look in the direction of the bathroom I go up to the door and open it slightly peeking my head in and see the sight of you in the shower through the glass door, I stop looking and lean against the wall next to the door.

“Fuck…” I mutter under my breath from the sight of you. I need to make you mine and I need to do it as soon as possible. I peek my head back through the door, I take out my phone and take a picture of you in the shower, I know it’s fucked up but it’s like my hands have a mind of their own. As I hear the sound of the water stopping I start making my way downstairs.

I get home and see my brothers Nick and Chris on the couch watching something. They both turn to look at me as I walk in the door. Both of them have their brows furrowed in concern, and confusion.

“Where the fuck have you been?” Nick says, his tone a little irritated.

“Out.” I respond dryly, not wanting to give them the real reason out of embarrassment. Even though they can clearly see that I am lying.

“Quit bein’ vague what were you doing?” Chris says.

I sigh and run one of my hands through my messy hair. I decide to tell them.

“I was following a girl…” I say reluctantly.

Both Nick and Chris’ eyes widen at my response, Chris looking amused and Nick looking worried.

“Who was it?” Chris asks.

“That one girl who has been in and out of juvie…” I respond looking down at the floor. Not wanting to meet their gazes.

Both Nick and Chris tense up at the mention of you.

“W- why her?” Nick asks.

“Yeah, she’s not exactly an easy target Matt, she will chew you up eat you and spit you out. You do realize that right?” Chris says, his tone concerned

“I don’t care. No one's made it out alive, but I'll be the first, mark my words she will be mine.” I say

Both Nick and Chris furrow their brows and turn back to the TV trying to avoid looking at me. *Time Skip* Y/N’S POV:

‘Sick fucker’ I think to myself when I see a boy look at me during class, biting his lip and smirking like an idiot, I want to beat his ass and leave him dead on the floor for even thinking about looking at me the way he is. I turn to the demented asshole and speak.

“Keep lookin’ at me like that and I’ll cut your fucking dick off and shove it down your throat.”

The teacher clearly heard that and cleared his throat.

“Don’t talk like that on school campus. Or at all it’s not lady-like.” The teacher says.

I furrow my brows at the teachers comment and gesture to the guy who was eye-fucking me the whole class period.

“That demented idiot has been eye-fucking me the whole period and you’re worried about me being ‘un-lady-like’?”

“Language Y/N.” The teacher says,

I scoff and lean back into my seat, crossing my arms over my chest, after a few moments the class ends. I grab my stuff and head to my next class of the dreadful day. Before going to class I head to the bathroom and look at myself in the mirror, I sigh and dig into my bookbag for a bottle of concerta. I pop it in my mouth and take a sip of my water bottle to swallow the pill then head to class. When I entered the class I sit at a random desk and lay my head on it then I heard a voice.

“Tired, huh?” I listen and look up, it’s the boy from yesterday.

“You know most boys give up when a girl show’s no interest.” I say in a tiredly annoyed tone.

“Well, I’m not most people.” He says smirking

I sit up and look at him from the corner of my eye before turning to face him completely.

“What’s your name lover-boy?” I say teasingly but I am still annoyed at him.

He chuckles softly at the nickname and shakes his head,

“Matt, how ‘bout your name princess?” He uses the nickname to get a reaction out of me and he does.

“I told you to not call me princess… Also, my name is Y/N.”

He hums and nods, as the teacher starts talking.

After a good thirty minutes of the teachers yammering on and on, I get a note on my desk. I furrow my brows, take it and open it. It reads, ‘I’m sitting with you at lunch again today, try and stop me, and you are not allowed to go anywhere.’ I look in the direction of Matt. I crumbled the paper and threw it at him. Paper ball hitting his temple.

“Bingo,” I whisper as the ball hits him but loud enough for him to hear me.

“Aw, look at you, warming up to me already.” Matt whispers in an obnoxious child-like voice.

“Shut up I still think you’re trying too hard for a girl you barely know.” I say in an annoyed tone.

“I don’t need to know you to know that I’m obsessed with you” he says, I furrow my brows at his words. He doesn’t know me, doesn’t know my past, why I’ve been in and out of juvie and foster homes, anything about my family, nothing about me… How can he be obsessed with me?

“You’re nothing like any girl I’ve ever met… You carry yourself differently, yes, I know about the fights and the juvie hell even the foster homes. You keep saying “You don’t know me” I know that. I want you to teach me. I want to know everything about you. I want to know what you think, what you feel. Everything.” He continues, I feel a sense of safety with him suddenly then I look up at him and make eye contact with him. He has beautiful icy blue eyes; I didn’t notice them before them but now I do.

“You’re going to regret sayin’ that Matt…” I speak

He leans closer to me and whispers in my ear, his breath sending shivers down my spine.

“I’m not going to regret anything if it includes you.” He whispers in my ear and leans back in his seat and works on his assignment.

“Ugh, fine. Lunch you said?” I speak

His eyes light up when I speak after hearing my words his leg starts bouncing out of excitement, I chuckle softly at the sight of him being excited to talk to me more.

“Yeah- Lunch…” He says, trying to keep his voice from being shaky and failing miserably. MATT’S POV:

“Fuck she’s gorgeous.” I say to my friends as you walk by, it takes everything in me to not go up to you and drag you to my car. The way you walk, the way you talk, the way you bite your lip subconsciously, everything about the way you carry yourself draws me in more and more.

“She’s insane is what she is.” My friend says, his words snapping me out of my thoughts. I glare at him.

“I heard she used to beat the shit out of her ex when he talked about fucking her.” He says.

“I mean can you blame him? I want to dive in that pussy now. What I would give to feel her wrap around my cock…” I say without even realizing it.

My friends furrow their brows and look at me weirdly, one of them chuckles and speaks up after a few moments of silence.

“Since when have you been freaky?”

“Since I laid eyes on her.”

Y/N’S POV:

            Lunchtime rolled around and I groaned as I remembered that Matt would sit next to me. I don’t know why he’s so invested in me, but I find it amusing and annoying at the same time. He seems like a good guy, but I’ve been hurt by many men that were supposed to love me and left me. God, forbid I let someone ruin me again. First it was my dad, then my ex-boyfriend. Then my supposed ‘best friend’ either way I’ve been hurt too many times to let anyone in.

Sadly, Matt just had to deal with the fact that I don’t trust anyone unless they prove to be trustworthy. But will I ever tell him that? Hell no, if I do tell him that he’ll do everything in his power to seem worthy to get me to trust him. I want to get to know the real Matt. I remember my mom would always tell me… ‘The three-month rule’ basically saying that men show their true colors after three months. But I don’t want to wait that long but I have to do what I have to do, I guess.

I sat at my usual table and sure enough. Matt came

“Hey…” Matt says dragging the ‘y’.

“Hi” I say back, not adding any extra energy that needs to be added. I pull out my earbuds and put one in my ear.

“You know it’s rude to listen to music while you’re having a conversation with someone.” Matt says. I roll my eyes, not wanting to deal with his shit or anyone’s shit for that matter.

“Oh, bite me.” I retaliate.

“Don’t tempt me, baby...” Matt says, his voice sultry

I must admit… I did not like the effect that nickname, and his voice had on me. I avoid eye contact for a second to blush and look back at him, as seriously as ever. I plug in my headphones and play music. Looking down at my food before eating it. I glance up and see Matt furrowing his brows at me.

“What’re you listening to?” Matt asks.

“Uh. Nothin’.”

“C’mon tell me.” Matt says, trying to reach for my phone.

I move to take my phone just as he reaches for it. But he grabs it and looks at the song, I rest my forehead in my hands and let out a small ‘fuck’.

He smirks, liking what he saw playing on the phone. “Talk Dirty by Daniel Di Angelo…” He says slowly as he slowly puts the phone down. “Didn’t know you liked that type of music, babe… Good to know.”

I snatch my phone back “What? Surprised that I know good music?”

“No, surprised that you would listen to something so… Sexual…”

“You’re acting like as if I grew two heads, it’s a fucking song Matt.”

“I know that. But damn, such a sexual song… Why?” He says in a teasing tone.

“Shut. Up.” I speak “So what if I like songs that have very sexual meaning? They’re good songs.” I say sounding kind of timid.

“Hey, I’m not denying that they’re good songs I’m just saying… They suit you. Don’t hurt me.” He says teasingly.

“Oh, shut up I’m not going to hurt you.” I say chuckling softly.

“Is that your fucked up way of saying you care about me?” Matt says in a teasing tone once again, I look up and throw a fry at him and chuckle. He chuckles as well before getting the French fry and popping it in his mouth. He swallows and a moment of complete silence takes over. He looks at me, scanning over my face.

“You’re gorgeous…” He murmurs. I blush slightly at his words

“Thanks…” I murmur back.

“Can I kiss you?” He asks.

I look at him and furrow my brows.

“What…?” Is the only word that comes out of my mouth. I am shocked and taken aback by this. He leans forward and takes his hand in mine.

“Can I kiss you?” He repeats.

I open my mouth to respond but no words come out. He suddenly stands up, still holding my hand, he drags me out of the cafeteria and into the nearest storage closet. He pushes me against the wall, his body flush against mine. He cups my jaw and makes me look up at him then kisses me softly. My eyes widen, normally I would push him off and probably slap him across the face but this… This feels sort of… Right? I kiss him back. He hums as soon as he feels my lips moving against his, he whispers against my lips.

“I knew you couldn’t resist…” He whispers before kissing me again. Our lips moving in perfect sync before he traces his tongue against my bottom lip, silently asking for more access to my mouth. I part my lips enough to let his tongue in. He slides his tongue in my mouth and suddenly grabs my hips, lifting me up. I wrap my arms around his neck and my legs around his waist, he sets me down on a nearby counter. He breaks the kiss and rests his forehead against mine trying to catch his breath.

“The things I want to do to you…” He whispers.

MATT’S POV:

It’s been a week since we kissed in the janitor’s closet… I don’t regret it I never will but, she hasn’t talked to me since the kiss happened. I don’t know what’s going on. She seemed so into the kiss and now she’s pushing me away. Not that I was close to her in the first place. I want to go to her place and just watch her. Figure out why she’s shutting me out, but I don’t. She probably needs her space.

It’s morning and I notice that you are wearing a very oversized hoodie with the hood on to cover your face, I don’t think much of it. I walk up to you and pat your shoulder softly causing you to flinch. I furrow my brows at your flinch and grab your arm and turn you around.

“Why’d you flinch like that? It’s just me.” I ask

“No reason.” You respond

I pull the hood from your head and make you look up at me, my eyes widen then I see your face covered in cuts and bruises. My expression goes from soft to furious in a millisecond.

“Who did this to you?!” I say cupping your cheek.

“No one. Don’t worry about it.” You say coldly and remove my hand from your cheek as you start to walk. Before you get too far, I grab your arm and pull you back against my chest.

“Y/n… What happened?” I say firmly into your ear.

You sigh as you start talking “Can we go somewhere private?” You ask softly, I nod and lead you to my car. Once we’re there I open the passenger seat for you to get in, once you get in I go to the drivers seat of the car. Once settled I look at you with worry, remorse and adoration in my eyes.

“These were from my dad…” You say softly, not looking at me and fiddling with your hands in your lap.

“Your dad…?” I whisper softly

“Let me finish…” You said.

“My dad… Isn’t exactly the loving type, he’s abusive and beats the hell out of my siblings and I… He’s a shitty dad, he handed us off to family services for years so that he can run drugs with the Bianchi family-” I interrupt you

“Sorry… Bianchi family?”

“The Bianchi’s… They’re one of the biggest mafia families. My dad handed my siblings and I off to family services so that he can work for them. When he got us back, he made us all get high and shitfaced, but I refused, he beat the shit out of me and made me do it. From that day forward he has been intense, abusive and just plain insane. Yesterday he beat the shit out of me because he wanted to sell my body for extra cash, and I refused… Now I look horrible, I covered what I could with makeup but… I still look rough.” You explain and my expression darkens. I want to kill your dad, no one should treat an angel like you like that.

“You’re beautiful… Even covered in bruises you look beautiful. And as for your dad… He’s a total prick. I’m not going to let you get hurt by him or anyone anymore, you’re mine to hold, to love, to protect, to kiss and especially to fuck.”

You chuckle bitterly

“You’re still on that? Your dead set on fucking me, huh?” You said.

“Yeah. Of course, I am.” I respond.

You lean back into the seat and I lean in and kiss your shoulder to you neck then ear. “Let me show you how beautiful you are…” I whisper seductively in your ear before biting your earlobe. You tilt you head to the side, giving me more access to your neck, I continue kissing your neck as you speak. Your voice dropping to a whisper.

“Fuck, Matt.” You whisper as your eyes flutter close.

I move my hand to your thigh, gripping it. I then move your head to look at me. My eyes scan your face.

“You’re so beautiful…” I say before kissing you harshly

Y/N’S POV:

I kiss him back, shifting my body to fully face him, his hands go to my hips but in a failed attempt to pull me closer he breaks the kiss and reclines his seat. My eyes widen and he grabs my hips and pulls me across the gearshift to sit on his lap, he leans up and kisses me again. I kiss him back; his hand goes to the back of my head to pull me down with him as he lays flat against the reclined seat. He bucks his hips up to allow me to feel his bulge against my core. My hips grow a mind of their own and I grind down on him. He lets out a guttural moan from the back of his throat the sound being muffled by my lips against his.

After a few moments I keep grinding on him as we make out. Suddenly his hands go to my hips stopping my movements and he breaks the kiss. I sit up and look down at him with a confused expression on my face.

“What? Why’d you stop.” I ask, honestly kind of frustrated that he stopped.

“I can’t do this…” He says.

“Seriously?” I say as I start to move from his lap. His grip tightens around my hips keeping me in the same position on his lap.

“You didn’t let me finish… I can’t do this, in the front seat, it’s too uncomfortable. Let’s move to the back.”

Without letting me respond he shifts and pulls his seat back up, he goes to the backseat and pulls me with him, he pulls me onto the seat, laying me across all three backseats of the car. He grabs my wrists and pins them on the sides of my head. He kisses me roughly then moves to kiss my neck, his hands slipping under my hoodie and starts to pull it up. Once it’s high enough he pulls it over my head and discards it somewhere on the floor. He slips out of his own shirt and takes a moment to look at upper body with only a bra on. He moves his hands to the straps of my bra and pulls them down my shoulders. I lifted my back enough for him to unhook my bra. Once unhooked he throws it on the floor where my hoodie was. His head moves to kiss my neck again.

His head moves lower to my chest, and he kisses both of my tits, then he starts sucking the left one and fondling the right one with his hand, the action causes a moan to escape from me. I feel him smirk against my nipple, he sucks for a few moments before moving to the right one to give it the same amount of love. He kisses my sternum then looks at me.

“You’re gorgeous.” He says before kissing me. His hands go to unbuckle his belt, and he pulls his pants down enough to reveal his lengthy erection that was dripping in pre-cum. My eyes widen at the view.

“Like what you see?” He says in a teasing tone.

“Shut the fuck up.” I say as I move to take off my own pants. He chuckles and practically yanks the pants and underwear off.

He aligns himself to my entrance before moving in, not giving me time to get used to his length before he starts moving. I moan loudly, a mixture of pain and pleasure.

“Matt! Too much, too much!” I moan out in pain and pleasure.

“Shh, you can do it. Just take it all.” He whispers encouraging me to take all of his very very big dick…

“Put on music.” He orders as his dick pumps in and out of my pussy.

“Now?” I ask in a ‘seriously?’ tone

“Yes now, I want to fuck you to the beat of the music.”

I reach over and grab his phone. He tells me the password and I put on a song that I think would fit the situation ‘The Walls’ by Chase Atlantic, while I was putting the song on Matt hits my G-spot and I moan loudly. Then the music starts playing, Matt smirks.

“Good choice baby I’m going to fuck you so hard.”

He says before he starts moving along to the beat of the song. Hard and fast, with each movement I moan.

“Matt, I can’t take it anymore.” I whimper.

His eyes darkened. The answering growl is feral and vicious. And all it does is heighten the pleasure radiating from where our bodies connect. His arm circles around my waist, and in one swift motion, he lifts me up and twists us, so he is sitting on the seat again while I straddle his lap. When he grabs my waist and yanks me down on his cock, my eyes pop open wide. This new angle has him far deeper than before—a lot deeper than I thought my body was capable of taking. “Matt!” I gasp, my nails now digging into his shoulders. “Ride me, baby. I want to feel your pussy grip every inch of my cock.” “Fuck, I can’t,” I groan, my body still working to adjust to the sheer size of this man. “You have five seconds before I rearrange your organs,” he threatens. It does the job, kicking my ass into high gear and immediately rising up and sliding back down slowly. After a few different readjustments, I finally find an angle that allows me to completely seat myself on Matt without feeling him come up my throat.

“That’s it, baby,” he croons into my ear. “Your sweet little pussy is gripping my cock so fucking tight.”

After a few moments I come, when he notices he smirks and kisses me gently

“Good girl.’’ He praises and after a few moments he gets close enough and pulls me off of his lap to allow him to come without spilling his seed inside of me. I sit on the seat trying to catch my breath. Listening to the music that was playing while we did that. The song that was playing was ‘Jennifer’s Body’ by Plvtinum ft. Chris Grey and Dutch Melrose. Matt looks over and smiles.

“This song accurately describes how I feel about you.”

I roll my eyes and move to put my clothes back on.

“Don’t expect me to do that again… I was vulnerable.”

“Yeah, vulnerable looks good on you, maybe you should you know… Not box your emotions all the time, talk to people, talk to me. I’ll always be here for you… Always.”

MATT’S POV:

Somehow, I convinced you to sleep with me. In my house, in my room with me. Nick and Chris were concerned, they didn't necesarily want you in our house but did I give a fuck? No. I wasn’t going to let you sleep in that house with your dad.

I was awake. You had fallen asleep with a book in your lap a few hours ago, who knew you liked reading? I took the book and marked the page you was on, placed it on the nightstand next to my bed and laid next to you spooning you as I try to fall asleep myself. I can’t… I turn over and pick up my phone looking at the time, 1:14 in the morning. I look over at you and sigh, looking at your bruises and cuts that were scabbing over left from where you dad hit you. I feel a surge of anger when I see it. I stand up, put on my shoes and go downstairs, I find Chris laying on the couch with his phone in his hand scrolling through it.

He looks up as he hears me enter the room he notices my shoes his brow furrows, “going somewhere?” he asks, his voice groggily from lack of sleep. “Just a little walk. I need to clear my mind.” I respond. He nods and goes back to his phone. After a second he asked me, “and... Y/n?” “She’s fine just sleepin’ in my room.” I walk past him and head out the front door. I walk around the neighborhood before leaving the neighborhood.

I walked to Y/n’s house. The thought of beating up your dad hasn’t left my mind, so I decided to make it a reality. I didn’t necessarily want to, I mean I was terrified of the man but I couldn’t hold myself back it was like my feet had a mind of their own. I get to your house and go through the same window I went through the first time I came over. I immediately saw your dad knocked out on the couch surrounded by beer bottles. Another surge of anger flows through me. That was the man who hurt the angel that is Y/n. I shake my head and walk over to him; I tap his shoulder to wake him up. The man groans then wakes up, looking at how I am towering over him. He furrows his brows looking up at me. My eyes immediately darken I would normally never do this, but for you...? I'll do damn near anything.

“Who the hell are you?” He asks.

“Y/n’s friend.”

The man immediately sits up.

“Tell me where she is… We have some ‘business’ to attend to as soon as possible.”

“No.” I snap, knowing ‘business’ he was talking about.

The man stands up and grabs me by my shirt collar pulling me closer roughly.

“Who do you think you are? Tell me where my daughter is now.”

I don’t respond. Instead, I step on his foot, and he pushes me against the wall. I grunt and quickly go to punch the man in the face. He punches me back; I grab one of the beer bottles and smash it over his head. He throws me, I land on the coffee table, the glass breaking below me. He grabs my shirt collar again and punches me. I feel that my lip is starting to bleed. I grab his shirt collar and punch him back he lifts me up and slams me back down, I grunt, he punches me again.

And it darkens.

[ieatstarsforaliving]

The Set-Up for Chapter 4 (3)

Summary: Hazel is really bad at lying. Especially to you.

Pairing: Spider-Woman!Hazel Callahan x Classmate!Reader

Warnings: Mature language, use of (Y/N), mentions of violence and death, I don't know what else honestly it's like 2 AM

Word Count: 4244

Note: I know it's been a while, my bad- turns out this whole university thing actually needs my time and effort to pass or something idk. Anyways, this chapter is lowkey kind of boring cause it's the set-up for the fun upcoming action-filled bloody chapters so just bear with me. But since I was gone for a while this is extra long... at least for me. Next fic is chapter 2 of The Grief We're Given so enjoy the lighthearted fic for now... also am lazy so this is unedited LMAO so it might be bad idc - Bia <3

“(Y/N), I know this may come off as a shock, but I love you too much to hide it from you anymore. I’m actually… the Spider-Woman!” 

PJ dramatically pulled off the red mask from her face, striking a pose, earning a laugh from Hazel. 

The trio were putting away the equipment they used for the Fight club after all the other members had left the gym— and by that it meant Josie and Hazel were putting away equipments while PJ thought it was a fun idea to dig through Hazel’s backpack to pull out her Spider-Woman mask, put it on, and start doing cartwheels and other nonsense around the gym floor. 

“Okay, why don’t you actually help us clean up, PJ,” Josie complained, folding up the floor mats, “Instead of blowing Hazel’s cover?” 

“Fine,” PJ rolled her eyes before throwing the mask back to Hazel, who caught it reflexively just as it was about to hit her face. “But even if anyone saw me with the mask, it’s not like they would believe any of us losers could possibly be the amazing Spider-Woman.”

PJ threw a playful grin at Hazel who folded the mask and hid it in her backpack. PJ had been begging her to reveal her superhero identity for a while, saying that it would raise all of their social levels right to the top. Josie, in reverse, begged Hazel not to reveal her identity, especially given the risks involved. 

“But what if you just told (Y/N)? Then, she’ll fall in love with you, then automatically she’ll hang out with us more, and by association she’ll bring Isabel and Brittany with her!” PJ argued, still unwilling to drop the topic. 

“Yeah, and then the next villain that wants to kill Hazel will take the people she loves as hostage,” Josie warned. “In fact– I know we’ve been doing the self-defense club for a while and it’s been going pretty well so far, but Hazel has exposed herself way too much.” 

PJ groaned, indicating her impatience with Josie’s cautious approach. “Okay what part of this is too much? All Hazel’s doing is lightly punching and kicking a bunch of girls.” 

“Was it the backflip?” Hazel chimed in. 

“Yes, it was the backflip!” Josie blurted. “And we can’t keep saying ‘there’s all sorts of people who teach you stuff in juvie’ as an excuse anymore.” 

“But the club is working!” PJ insisted, flailing her arms towards the gym. “Girls are actually acknowledging us in the hallways, I’ve gotten 3 high fives just this afternoon, and girls– the hot ones know our names. And also Female solidarity and whatever. The club is working!”

“I know. I feel like if we keep it up, you guys might actually be able to take down some crime in the area.” 

“No, if we keep it up we can put our fingers inside of each other, grow up, Hazel.” 

Josie crossed her arms. “Whatever. It’s your call.” 

“I do feel like people are liking more than just the hitting and the tackling part of the club.”

The club had moved onto catfights on the gym floor, and it was no secret to Hazel that she always looked forward to these training sessions, particularly when it came to her interactions with you. All the punching, kicking, and rolling around the floor was more than what Hazel believed she deserved, but she couldn’t help but crave a deeper connection with you. And the weekly lunch meetings to make the ‘women murdered in history’ project weren’t exactly enough to get to know each other. 

PJ shrugged. “Yeah, I know, we’re empowering them. Duh.”

“No, I mean, seriously, to have a safe space like this, it means a lot to people, and I think if we took some time to spend a meeting and actually get to know these girls, like, it would be really important instead of just…” Hazel pictured the time you were on top of her, pinning her down with your feeble strength, bodies pressed close– so close– as you grappled each other on the floor, listening to the chants and cheers of the girls circling around. Her voice trailed off. “...sweating on them.”

PJ and Josie paused, then looked at each other with an incredulous smile. 

“Hazel, that is… genuinely a brilliant idea.” 

“I love talking about my trauma.”

Hazel squinted. “That’s not really–”

“-I literally jack off after every single therapy session. It just makes girls weirdly horny.”

Josie shook her head. “Don’t say ‘girls’. It’s just you.” 

“Okay!” Hazel interrupted, fearing someone walking in midst of the conversation that turned weird thanks to PJ, as always. “I’ll just email the group about our next meeting.” 

You walked into the gym with an excited grin. Fight club was the one thing you looked forward to in school nowadays— it was the only place you felt truly safe and comfortable, with only girl members (minus Mr. G, but he was an ally) who cheered you on with every weak punch that you threw. 

Hazel noticed you walking in and waved to you, and you noticed that the format of the club had changed today. Everyone was sitting in a circle, like one of those sharing sessions in kindergarten times. You joined the circle in between Krystal and Hazel, who grinned like an idiot when you sat beside her. 

“What’s going on?” You whispered to her, but Josie answered your question.

“So, we know that this club has been a place where we can feel empowered physically, but we also thought it could be a safe space and a place where we can open up and talk about our feelings.” 

You nodded along as the girls began to talk about themselves— Sylvie with her stepdad, Stella with her stalker, and Brittany with her jewelry business— and you realized that although you had been fighting each other for a while, you never knew that much about the girls. You listened tentatively to each of their stories, but to your honesty, you were quite distracted by your project partner, who kept opening her mouth, then closed them continuously. She seemed to be contemplating whether or not to open up. Your curiosity piqued, and when your eyes met with her’s, you encouraged her with a supportive look. 

Hazel smiled at your aid. She didn’t really know how to talk about the biggest secret that she held about her superpower, but your expression was so supporting– too supporting, that she found herself speaking out. 

“Well, ever since…” Hazel began, her mind racing to find the right words.

I’ve been bitten by a radioactive spider, 

“...My parent’s divorce,” 

I’ve been doing this, like, superhero stuff after school. I don’t even know if I’m doing this right, you know?

“My mom’s been doing this, like, mid-life crisis. I don’t know how that’s sitting with me, you know?”

And it’s just me swinging through buildings and beating criminals up and handing them over to the police who hate me because I’m a faceless vigilante but the entire neighborhood depends on me because some of these criminals are genuinely insane. I’ve broken bones, I’ve fallen through roofs, I got impaled once, that was fun— and it just feels so incredibly amazing but so burdening, all the same time. 

“And it's been really really dark.”

She took a glance at you, who was nodding through her words, returning her gaze with tender understanding. 

“This has just been really meaningful to me to, like, get to know some new people-”

(Y/N).

“-Who actually wants to, like, get to know me.”

You felt a surge of empathy for Hazel. You could hear the vulnerability shining through her words— it must have been hard to find good friends after experiencing such hardship. You couldn’t help but come to admire her even more. 

You raised your hand. “And I just wanted to say that I think it’s very hard to find a good and safe community in school for girls, and I’m really grateful to Hazel for founding this club,” You gushed. “It's really brave of you— and your friends— to take your past and turn it into something so amazing for us. So, thank you.” 

Hazel grinned like an idiot, fidgeting with her hair as her face burned up.

“Get a room, you two,” PJ intervened with a smirk. “But seriously, I just want to circle back to what Brittany was saying–”

“-I would like to go next, if that’s okay.” Josie raised her hand. 

PJ was obviously discontented, but Josie started anyway. 

“I don’t really like talking about juvie and everything that happened over the summer, um, you know, we get a lot of props or whatever cause people think it's so badass, But, really wasn’t. I mean, unless you consider getting hazed horrifically every single night, like, badass. I mean, obviously, you know, we had to survive the tributes, and you know, I did have to, like, fight people basically every single night. People were betting on us and we were given shivs and rusty pocket knives and splintered wood and, um, pipes as well.”

Hazel furrowed her eyebrows. No one’s going to believe this, She thought, turning to look at Isabel— 

–Who had the most distressed look on her face? 

Oh, Hazel blinked, shocked that Josie’s improvised monologue is working. There were almost tears glistening in Isabel’s eyes. She assumed Isabel to be the only one, then she turned to look at you— and your hand was on your mouth, eyes filled with woe. 

“And we had to just like, fight people, sometimes to the death,” Josie added.

Hazel frowned. This wasn’t good.

Josie continued.

“And I still hear their screams at night and that guilt probably will, like, always shackle me forever. And sometimes people still try to attack us in the streets for revenge, or try to blackmail us into doing bad things with them, but I realize now, I don’t have to be that person anymore. We don’t have to be like that anymore. We don’t have to just let things happen to us. Because of you guys. And I am just really grateful for what the club has become and… just especially, you know, from where we started and, uh…” 

Hazel’s eyes were leaping out of her face as she gestured to Josie to tone it down. She frantically shook her head, indicating that Josie’s speech had much more effect than she thought it would.

“Yeah, sorry,” Josie caught on, ending her facade quickly. “I feel like I kinda killed the vibe. I’ve never really, I guess, said that to anyone before, sorry.”

There was a silence that Hazel felt the need to break. This was bad– she knew Josie liked talking about her trauma, but she didn't expect Josie to make up the most devastating, hunger-games type of trauma in front of you. 

“But juvie also wasn’t that bad,” Hazel blurted. “I mean it’s probably way less scary than adult prison, and it really builds character–” 

You turned to look at Hazel who was rambling about the positive effects of juvie. Your heart broke at the sight of panic on her face– how harsh were the conditions of juvie that Hazel felt the need to protect her trauma? 

Josie cut in. “Yeah, okay, people wanna wrap up maybe or…” 

“I’m going through a divorce.” 

Everyone turned to Mr. G. 

“Whoo! That shit felt good to say.” Mr. G beamed, his leg stretched out as a free spirit. “Whoo, I tell y’all. Men… men need therapy.” 

Josie stood up. “Yeah… I think that’s a good place to maybe wrap up.” 

“What was that?” Hazel asked. 

Josie shrugged, putting on her jacket. “I don’t… I don’t really–”

“-I mean, you were just bullshitting from A to Z with no breaks in between. I didn’t know you were such an actress, Josie.” PJ laughed, playfully shoving Josie’s shoulder. “You should think about that, for your future career.” 

Hazel did not laugh. “Josie, you were the one who told me not to be ‘too much.’” 

“I don’t think it was too much. I think it was the exact amount of oomph we needed as a group.” PJ grabbed her shoes from the floor. “It made us look vulnerable but also tough.” 

“I don’t think (Y/N) was thinking that.” 

“Okay, How do you know what (Y/N) was thinking?” 

“I don’t, but I could see her–” 

“-Maybe she’ll tell you herself,” PJ said, pointing behind Hazel. 

Hazel spun around to see you walking towards her. She immediately straightened herself, touching up her hair as you waved to her. 

“Hazel.” 

Hazel gulped in response. 

“So, I was wondering if you wanted to finish the project today?” You asked, giving a shrug. “If you’re not busy. I know you’re always kind of busy and that’s why we just always did our project during lunch, but–” 

“-I’m not busy!” Hazel exclaimed, before mentally slapping herself for being too eager. “I mean, today sounds good. Today is perfect.” 

“Okay!” It was your turn to be eager, giving a nod before pointing to the girls locker room. “I’ll just get my bag, and I’ll be right back.”

As you slipped into the locker room, PJ and Josie slid towards Hazel with a curious look. 

“It didn’t look like she was angry,” PJ commented with a grin. “So, in conclusion, today was a huge success. Do you guys want to get chicken on a stick to celebrate?”

“I… I think I’m hanging out with (Y/N).” Hazel gaped, as if she couldn’t believe that this was actually happening. She was going to hang out with you. Today. Outside of school. 

“Right now?” 

“Right now!” Hazel gasped. “Oh my god, I don’t know why I said yes, I have to go and patrol the neighborhood–”

“-Ugh, Hazel!” PJ groaned, grabbing Hazel by the shoulders. “That’s literally all you do. You go to school, you come to the fight club, then you patrol the neighborhood. That’s all you do.”

“But—” Hazel sputtered. “-Crime–”

“-Hazel, Crime has been pretty low recently. The world isn’t going to burn down just because you miss patrol for a single day,” PJ countered, as if speaking to a child. “Do you trust me? It’s all about faith. That’s all it is. Leap of faith, Hazel. Leap of faith. Trust me when I say the police can deal with all the petty crimes. Go and enjoy yourself, finish your project, and remember to use protection.” 

Hazel’s cheeks grew hot as she opened her mouth to counter PJ— just as you approached the trio with your bag. 

“Hey, Hazel. Ready to go?” 

Hazel buffered, her mind still on the sexual innuendo. She couldn’t help but think about certain activities when you stood there with your signature smile, earning a cackle from PJ. 

“Sorry, we were just talking about juvie trauma and shit. She’s all yours.” PJ earnestly pushed Hazel towards you. “See you guys tomorrow!” 

PJ skipped out of the gym, followed by Josie who gave Hazel a thumbs-up. Hazel responded to Josie with a nod. PJ was right– it was just for a day. Just one day off to hang out with you– which was the dream– and tomorrow, she would patrol twice as hard to make it up. 

“Sorry, I just was thinking about-” Hazel faltered. “-things.” 

“Things?” 

Hazel felt the room get hotter. “It’s fine. Not really important.”  

“Alright. So, where do you want to go?” You asked. 

“Uh…”

Hazel thought about what PJ had said. 

Leap of faith, was it?

And she took the leap. 

“Do you want to come over to my place?” 

By 8PM, the two of you found yourself in Hazel’s room, caught in a fit of laughter. Pizza and snacks were strewn across her bed, and music played out from her laptop as you wrapped up the project— a lego diorama with a bunch of famous murdered women. It was quite inappropriate but also incredibly creative, and the ridiculousness of it all had you two in stitches. 

“I bet you 5 dollars that Mr. G doesn’t even have an actual degree,” You joked, adding a lego version of Casey Becker to the diorama. “He just showed up one day, and Principal Meyers desperately needed more teachers.” 

“And ever since the club, he’s just been handing out As to every single girl,” Hazel laughed, causing you to fall into a fit of giggles as well. She lived for your laughter, thanking PJ and Josie in her head for convincing her to skip patrol for the day. 

“Okay, I think we’re almost done. Just have to add the blood.” You grabbed the bottle of red paint and dropped some on your fingertip, then dabbed it around the lego characters’ bodies to create the ‘murder’ effect. 

In the process, you somehow managed to smudge some on your cheek, which didn’t go unnoticed by Hazel who had made a habit of staring at you all the time. 

“Oh, you got some on your…” Hazel tried, pointing to your face. 

You blinked, eyes focusing on her face as you registered her words. You chuckled in embarrassment, trying to find the paint on your cheeks and obviously failing. 

“Can I…?” Hazel breathed, and you tilted your head, allowing her to wipe away the streak of paint with her thumb. Her fingers moved delicately across your cheek, her eyes locked onto your’s. You could feel the warmth of her hand on your skin, and you melted against it. Hazel’s touch lingered on your cheek for a moment longer than necessary, and Hazel realized only after she had savored the view for a while.

She pulled away, breaking your gaze with a sheepish smile. Your cheeks were tinted with a soft blush, and you muttered a word of thanks before finishing off the project with distractingly loud heartbeats. 

The two of you stared at the finalized diorama in proud silence, taking in the project in its glory. It was messy and odd, but it was still illustrious. 

“Well, I guess we’re finished!” You clapped your hands to commemorate the ending of you and Hazel’s homework. 

“It’s been fun working with you,” Hazel replied, a little disappointed that this was the end of the project. What excuse did she have to hang out with you now?

You cocked your head. “Oh, don’t act like this is the last time we’re ever going to hang out together.”

“Really?” 

“Of course!” You grinned. “With Mr. G’s class, lunch, and the self-defense club, I’m going to be with you all the time. You might even get sick of me at some point.” 

I’m not sure that’s possible, Hazel thought to herself, really pleased that she had secured friendship with you. 

“Speaking of the self-defense club, I’m really glad that you invited me,” You continued, wiping your red hands with a nearby paper towel. “I was being honest during the sharing circle. I’m really grateful for you.” 

Hazel softened at your words. 

“And I hope your mom gets better with her mid-life crisis,” You added.

“Thank you.” Although you had complimented her, Hazel couldn’t help but feel a bit guilty about the sharing circle. She was lying to you– continuously. Was that a good base for a relationship? Not that you two had a relationship. Not that she didn’t want one. “Listen– what Josie said about juvie today, I think I have to clarify some things.” 

You shook your head. You had purposefully left out that subject not to trigger her– and you didn’t want to make it feel like she owed you her history. “Oh, Hazel, you don’t need to explain anything to me. I get that it’s a hard subject to talk about, and I just want you to know that I’m here if you need anything.” 

Hazel hesitated. She supposed if you didn’t really want to hear the explanation, she could keep her secret—

“-I mean what you went through was brutal and inhumane,” You continued.

Hazel’s guilt suffocated her. 

“But you endured through it. You’re so brave. And so strong and just… honest. Like I can tell that everything that you do is genuine. You make me feel like I can be strong too—”

“-Okay, I need to tell you something,” Hazel interrupted. She couldn’t handle it anymore— but she knew she couldn’t tell you the whole truth. She took a deep breath before continuing. “There are some things happening in my life right now that I can’t really… talk about. But I want to. But I can’t. It’s for your safety and I shouldn’t even be mentioning that but… you really matter to me.” 

Oh my god, I can’t believe I said that. 

Hazel swallowed hard and gazed at you for a reaction. 

“I do?” You peered back at Hazel’s reddened face. She nodded in response and it was your turn to be flustered, not knowing what to say. 

“And I… I want to be honest with you,” Hazel pressed on. “I can’t tell you the whole truth. But I—” 

“-Dispatch, we have a 10-90 in progress at the bank downtown. Requesting immediate backup and EMT support.”

Shit. 

Shit shit shit. 

Hazel quickly grabbed her laptop, which she had rigged to eavesdrop on police communications. She forgot that it automatically turned on after school. Why did it have to be now, of all fucking times?

“Was that the police?” You asked, confused. 

Hazel shook her head frantically. “No, I just– it’s just another, uhm, project that I’m working on, it’s fine–”

“-Copy that. Units en route. Proceed with caution.” 

“We have eyes on the suspects, attempting to establish a perimeter.” 

“10-4, be advised, we’ve informed EMTs, and SWAT is en route. Keep us updated.”

Hazel hastily began typing, searching up the latest updates on the current news of the town. She managed to find the location of the bank robbery— which had everything Hazel feared for. Armed robbers, high-tech weaponry, and injured police officers.  

“Fuck, I knew I shouldn’t have skipped today,” Hazel muttered under her breath. 

You paused. “Skip what?”

“I—” Hazel swallowed, inner conflict evident as she spoke. “-I think I have to go.”

“Go?” You paused. “Hazel, what is going on?”

Hazel didn’t answer. Instead, she stood up and grabbed her phone and her backpack, briskly heading towards the door. But you were faster, quickly running and positioning yourself in the path to block her way. 

“I think I know what’s going on,” you claimed, your voice low and heavy. 

Hazel froze. Oh no. You knew. You knew? How did you know? Had she been so obvious? Was it the back flip?

“(Y/N), I can explain–”

“-This is related to juvie, isn’t it?” 

Hazel blinked.

“What?” 

She stared at you, who looked incredibly serious, with lips pursed tight in worry. Hazel shook her head frantically. She wanted to kick PJ for even coming up with that excuse– now it was getting all tangled up with you and her hero work. 

“No! It has nothing to do with juvie,” Hazel assured, trying to get past you.

“You don’t have to lie to me, Hazel.” 

Hazel furrowed her eyebrows. 

I kind of do. 

You understood her expression as guilt. “And obviously I don’t understand fully what’s going on but if what Josie said was true and some things are happening with the people you messed with from juvie, then, I want to help you.”

You stepped closer and took her hand, holding it tight with genuinity. 

“Hazel, I care about you.”

Hazel released her breath. 

If you had said that in any other context, Hazel would have kissed you right there and then. Your hands felt so warm, so gentle– a bit shaky, as if you were afraid of what she would do if you let go. And your unwavering eyes– upset eyes that made it seem like her worries belonged to you too— And it took everything in Hazel to swallow back her words, gently guiding you to her bed and sitting you down. 

For a moment, you thought she would stay. 

But Hazel pulled away from you.. 

“I’ll be back soon, okay? Just please, stay here, and I’ll be back,” Hazel whispered. “I promise.” 

And after a regretful look, she was gone. 

“Hazel—” You called after her. “Hazel!” 

Your mind began to race– where was she going? All you remembered from the police transmissions was something about the bank and the SWAT team. You reached for your phone, searching up the local news. It wasn’t hard to find articles related to the current conflict— 

Masked Robbers Employ High-Tech Arsenal in Bank Heist, Defying Police Response

Bank Heist Nightmare Unfolds; Thieves Utilize Cutting-Edge Tech

Bank Robbery in Progress: Impossible to Arrest, Police Say

Police Overwhelmed in Ongoing Standoff at 1st Street National Trust Bank

This was bad. Bank robbery? High-Tech Arsenal? It sounded dangerous– more than whatever Hazel could handle, no matter how strong she was during the self-defense club. What was she going to do with these criminals? Did she owe them something? She was always writing stuff in her notebook— did it have anything to do with this? 

You ignored the questions stemming from your fear– you didn’t have time to think. Hazel was out there— and she was very clearly heading to an angry, dangerous scene. 

But Hazel was just a girl. 

And you had to protect her.

You had to save Hazel Callahan.

Previous Chapter: The Fucking Fight Club

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(Guys I don't know how a taglist works so just comment "Tag me next chapter" here BUT if you want to be tagged in all chapters, put "tag me in all upcoming chapters" on THIS POST ok???)

@valenftcrush

[manjjiros]

okay but sweet post-juvie kazutora who goes to weekly therapy seeing you for the first time and giving in to his repressed darker impulses. idk i can just see yandere!kazutora so vividly !! stalking and kidnapping you bc he wants you all to himself <3

GROUP THERAPY

kazutora hanemiya x fem!reader

warnings: dark content, yan!kazu, stalker!kazu, implied sex, inaccurate representation of group therapy, manipulation, kidnapping, lying about condom usage, ask to tag

notes: cass this has been in my brain ever since you sent it. about 2.3k.

from the ASM: [he bumps into you as he passes by you in the casino, jumping in fear and dropping a file that had been confiscated from kazutora’s desk. the photos that scattered all over the floor were all… you. they were all of you. the ASM apologizes profusely and scrambles to pick them up.]

the smell of burnt coffee and donuts.

the low hum of old overhead lights, one of them flickering, making it a little hard to see very clearly in the damp basement of the church.

two, then one, then two, then three, then one; people filtered into the basement and sat at each of the chairs that were placed in a circle, though it became more of an oblong shape as one by one people pulled them back to be able to sit in them.

kazutora had gotten there a half hour early, dropped off by his parole officer who told him he would be back to pick him up at seven thirty, sharp. he sat in the stiff chair, hands folded between his knees, eyes drifting dazedly over each person that arrived and took a seat in the circle.

group therapy would help, the parole officer had grunted to him from the driver’s seat, give you a chance to talk to other kids like you. i’ve seen it help others. 

the therapist took a seat two chairs away from kazutora, dragging his attention away from the door for a split second to study him. the guy looked like he was just under thirty, some stereotypically upbeat type. he let out a breath, certain that this place would make him rip his hair out and have another breakdown, until…

you.

you came in in a flurry, worried about the possibility of being late. you carried yourself with the confidence of a small dog, shaking and nervous as you gently closed the heavy doors behind yourself to try and stay under the radar.

it was too late for that. kazutora’s cold, intense gaze followed every tiny step you took towards the circle of people in the center of the room.

your lamblike gaze shifted around nervously for an empty seat, finding none outside of the one directly next to kazutora. he was new to the group, unknown to all of the regular members, and no one wanted to try their luck with a guy who looked like he could be part of a gang. you didn’t have a choice, though, and hurried around the edge of the circle before pulling the chair back to sit with a breath. “sorry, i hope you don’t mind,” you murmured to him.

it felt like his chest was being squeezed. he wanted to eat you alive.

“it’s fine,” he smiled lightly at you, shrugging his shoulders.

you smelled like freshly cut flowers and the summer sun. he wanted to brush that lock of hair over your shoulder to reveal the column of your throat and sink his teeth into your soft skin. what did you taste like? sugar, maybe? were you as sweet as you seemed?

what was your name?

he opened his mouth to ask, but got cut off by the therapist clasping his hands together to get everyone’s attention. he said his name, but kazutora didn’t hear it, nor did he want to. any voice that wasn’t yours should be silenced.

he shook his head to himself and slumped back into his chair. he shouldn’t be thinking like that. those thought processes are what landed him in this shithole anyway, and now he was being forced to sit through these hour-long group sessions to listen to other people complain and whine.

it did bring him to you, though. he supposed it wouldn’t be so bad.

“... and we have a newcomer today, just registered this morning. do you want to introduce yourself?”

kazutora blinked slightly, rejoining the conversation and glancing around. “kazutora hanemiya,” he gave a curt wave, eyes darting over to yours to watch you smile.

“hi kazutora,” everyone in the circle replied, as if it were some kind of alcoholics’ anonymous meeting. maybe it was. maybe he was in the wrong place, it would explain the coffee and the gorgeous girl sitting next to him that he wanted to devour.

“so, kazutora, what brings you in to join us?” the therapist tilted his head, a mild smile on his face.

kazutora hummed softly, shifting in his seat. “i was part of a gang. i’m not anymore. i got caught doing gang stuff.” it was a complete bluff – shinichiro’s blood was still on his hands. it’d been years, but the blood never came off. “theft, mostly.”

he felt himself smile back at the therapist, calm and collected, before turning his sights back on you. you looked timid, shrinking slightly under his gaze before smiling back at him. 

“we’ll get you to open up soon enough. let’s get started, shall we?” the therapist was quick to move on, clearly wanting kazutora to not feel pressured at his first visit, but he didn’t care. he wasn’t impressed or even vaguely interested in what these other pitiful people had to say. it only mattered when you told a recent story of how you held yourself back from stealing an expensive purse when you realized it was missing a security tag.

a kleptomaniac, it seemed that was your only crime. well, technically, it was grand theft, but hey, it was nothing in the long run. something that would be sealed up because you were a kid when you did it. 

kazutora listened to your story as if you were a siren, and he was a lost man at sea, swimming closer and closer to you. he could feel the corners of his mind start to warp as he watched the way your lips curled around your words, enticing him closer. he wanted to feel you, to hold you, to get you that fucking bag you’re talking nonstop about-

the session finished with your story, and it would be a short five minutes until his parole officer would arrive to take him back to his tiny apartment on the outskirts of the district, where no one could reasonably get to him without at least a bike and a semblance of direction.

he watched you stand and make your way to the refreshments, your fingers dancing over the donuts before scooping up a donut hole to take a bite out of it. 

his feet moved before he could stop himself, and soon enough he was at your side, grabbing a tasty, albeit chalky, treat for himself. “good thing they give us some sugar after making us spill our guts like that, right?”

“huh?” you turned to lift your head and look up at him, blinking in surprise at his sudden presence next to you. “oh, yeah, i guess so. today wasn’t so bad. sometimes miki cries, and then we all really need the sugar.”

“that doesn’t sound fun at all.” kazutora stuck his bottom lip out as he chewed on the tasteless donut in his hand. you shrugged. 

“it’s the way of the sessions. helps to make everyone feel seen, or something…” you trailed off before throwing him a smile that made his head spin. “you’re… kazutora, right? sorry, i listened when you said it, but the session felt really long today.”

“that’s right. and you’re y/n.” he pointed at you with his half eaten donut, sprinkles caught on his lips, and you felt yourself start to giggle.

“right. it’s nice to meet you. will you come back next week?”

“have to. it’s part of my-” he thought briefly, mind scrambling. he probably shouldn’t mention juvie, his recent release at eighteen, his real crimes. “-deal with my parents. they told me i had to keep coming if i wanted a roof, y’know?”

“oh, right,” you believed him, falling easily into the idea that he was also just a kleptomaniac, just like you. “my parents were really upset when i got arrested. they got me out on bail, but enrolled me in this program. it’s helped, it’s a good thing.”

kazutora watched the twitch of your lips as you bit down on the rest of the donut hole between your fingers. you weren’t sure.

you shrugged and reached for a napkin to wipe at your lips, the residue of your lip gloss staining it pink as you headed for the stairs leading back up to the main lobby of the church. “well, we’re glad you’ve joined us. we should probably go, they like to give us the coffee and stuff, but if we hang out for too long, they shut the lights off.”

“right,” kazutora nodded his head and followed you out, watching the way your form blended into the shadowy corridors of the stairwell. 

before he knew it, you were gone, disappearing into the back of the church to exit into the back parking lot, and he was sliding easily into the back seat of his parole officer’s car. 

the interaction was brief. far too brief to have even been a hit on your radar. but for kazutora, you had suddenly become a beacon of light, untainted by the blood on his hands. 

he needed to know everything. he needed you.

in two month’s time, kazutora had worked himself into a point of almost-high status amongst the other delinquents in the group. he could play into his charm, he could play into being just a petty little thief who got caught up in the wrong crowd. the tokyo manji gang made me do it, he would say, crocodile tears dripping down his cheeks, i wanted to be just like mikey, but… he was someone no one else should be like. 

you had rubbed his back that day, and it felt like his entire body had been lit on fire. he pumped his cock holding his shirt to his nose that night in bed, convincing himself he could still smell your lavender lotion on the fabric as he imagined it was you on top of him. 

in two month’s time, kazutora had learned every single thing he possibly could about you. your name, age, your childhood home, how you walked to your college campus, the routes you alternated between to be safe. he loved to watch you browse in the high-end stores between classes, walking into the luxury districts and perusing the items you knew you could pocket but told yourself not to. he knew that soon enough he would be the one using blood soaked sticky fingers to get you whatever your little heart craved.

you wanted luxury? he could get luxury. you wanted someone stable, someone loving, someone to fill the void your dear old dad left? he knew about that too, of course, and he could fix it all.

in his head, you had become an angel, someone he craved to corrupt and ruin only for himself. the longer you kept yourself away from your human depravities, the more kazutora craved you.

two months was more than enough time to get in your good graces, to be considered a friend, someone to rely on, someone to trust. and trust him you did, giving him your phone number and letting him start to infiltrate your life outside of therapy sessions together.

you put your faith into the reformed criminal who had barely washed his hands after the crime, the blood and grime still caked under his fingernails as he rode up to you on his bike and offered you a lift to a nearby cafe after your last class. 

“funny seeing you around here, kazu! i didn’t know you liked to ride around here.” you giggled as you climbed onto the back, wrapping your arms around him.

“normally i don’t, but i guess it was just fate to bump into you here.” he smiled at you over his shoulder before bringing you to the cafe he knew you liked, the one where he got his favorite photo of you chewing on a strawberry pastry with the cutest smile on your lips.

he wouldn’t sleep unless he saw that smile on your face up close and in person, and as he offered to get you whatever you wanted and you asked for just that pastry, he knew his wish would come true. 

your little excursion with kazutora was fun. he was so sweet, so kind to you, reaching across the table with a napkin to dab at your cheek when some of the flaky pastry stuck to your skin. it made your cheeks feel warm, your eyes linger on his mouth. 

it didn’t take him long to offer you a ride back to his place, to check out his new living quarters that his ‘parents’ were helping him pay for. 

you accepted, like a lamb to the slaughterhouse, consenting to your own kidnapping as he drove you both home for the very first time.

he led you upstairs and into the small apartment, letting you in first before closing and locking the door behind himself. the place was small, well-kept, tidy. it was just a small one-bedroom, but enough for two people. 

kazutora was charming. kazutora was kind. kazutora had eyes that turned into deep black pools when he looked at you, when his hands landed on your waist and his teeth sunk into your skin. kazutora was a gentleman, getting you off on his tongue before sinking his cock into your tight heat.

kazutora cared about you. he definitely had a condom on, you heard him fumble with the wrapper. kazutora didn’t make your shoulder bleed when he bit you too hard, you had been overwhelmed with pleasure and had gotten confused.

kazutora. kazutora. kazutora. 

you thought only of him as you drifted to sleep in his bed, just for a short nap, you had murmured. you thought only of him as you felt something cold and a bit heavy snap around your ankle.

you had stepped on a bear trap without even knowing it, and now it had its rusty, bloodied teeth sunk deep into your flesh and muscle and bone. 

kazutora would be your everything, whether you liked it or not. he had made sure of that. at least you would have the best bags his fingers could grab, right?

[f1rewr1t3r]

Rq! Mickey and Ian who adopt/foster an angry teenage girl (that’s the only type of person I could ever see Mickey looking after.)

based on this request ☝️☝️

@

Summary: When Ian and Mickey’s foster daughter defend them.

Gallovich x Adopted!Daughter!Reader (platonic)

~Mickey and Ian pov~

It was a random Tuesday morning and Ian and Mickey were laying in bed after a very…eventful night. Ian had been thinking about fostering, or even adopting for a few weeks but he didn’t know how Mick would react to it. So he made an appointment with the foster system. An appointment Mickey didn’t know about. “Hey, Mick, cmon we gotta go” Ian said before sitting up and stretching. “The fuck you mean we gotta go, where the fuck we goin,” Mickey asked confused as to where they might have to go. As Ian started getting dressed he said, “I made us an appointment.” Mickey stood up before staying, “The fuck kinda appointment we gotta go to at,” he paused and looked at the clock on the nightstand before continuing, “9 in the fuckin mornin?” Ian sighed, “Just get dressed and I’ll tell you on the way there.” Mickey just sighs and grumbles some curses before getting dressed and following Ian out to the car.

The started driving to the agency office, before Mickey finally asks, “so where the fuck we goin?” getting impatient. Ian hesitates before saying, “We’re headed to the DCFS office.” He says in a hesitant tone. Mickey has a confused look on his face before saying, “the fuckin child and family services place, what in the holy fuck are we going there for?” Ian looks over at Mickey, “Because I think we should foster a kid, I really think we should up our relationship and try having a kid and look it’s just fostering right now so if it doesn’t work out then we’ll know. But I mean you’re great with Franny and I think this could be a good thing for us.” Mickey thinks for a few minutes. “You know what fuck it why the fuck ye ru not, but ain’t raising no my little pony fuck ass kid ok,” he says. Ian laughs, “Mick you couldn’t raise a kid like that even if you tried.”

They pull into the DCFS parking lot and after a few minutes they go in and meet the case worker. She comes out in a typical office outfit and greets Mickey and Ian with a smile and a handshake. “Hi you must be Mr Gallagher and Mr Milkovich,” she said in a sweet tone. “Yes ma’am that’s us,” Ian replied trying to match her tone. “Well it’s lovely to meet you, you can go ahead and follow me to my office.” She says before walking toward her office. Ian and Mickey exchange looks before following her to her office. They sit down adjacent to her when she sits at her desk and puts a few files on her desk. She clears her throat before speaking, “we’ve gone over you both and done background checks and I do understand that you both have a minor criminal record but both of your parole officers have signed off on you both being clean.” Ian and Mickey look at each other with confusion before Ian responds, “any certain reason why you are being so lenient.” He asks hesitantly. The case worker sighs, “look I’m going to be completely honest, we’ve already chosen a child for you. Her name is y/n and she is a heathen. She’s been through 12 different foster homes in just 3 years. Even gone to juvie once-“ Before she could continue Mickey interjects, “what she go to juvie for?” The case worker looks at him before answering his initial question.

“Assault and battery. Her last placement was, I admit, a poor one. Her foster parents were apparently quite abusive and y/n didn’t take kindly to people putting their hands on her. She spent 6 months in juvie and was on parole for the rest of the year.” Mickey nods, “sweet.” Ian immediately looks over at him and nudges him, giving him a stern look. “I-I mean that’s terrible.” Mickey corrects himself. The case worker looks at the two of them before speaking again, “I’ve spoken to the state and we believe her being with someone with a similar… temperament might be better for her. Maybe even call her down a bit. We really just need to get her out of our hair for a while. We do have her here today if you would like to meet her.” Ian and Mickey is a bit taken aback but agree to meeting y/n.

A few minutes later the case worker opens the door to reveal a handcuffed y/n and a husky security guard with a name tag that says Dave. The girl walks over to the chair and raises her wrists, signaling Dave to uncuff her. “Is this really necessary” Ian asks with a chuckle. The case worker chuckles before responding to him, “oh it’s just some precautionary measures due to some…previous incidents.” Mickey slightly laughs at the comment. Dave takes the keys and uncuffs y/n. She plops down on the chair before saying, “Thanks Davey” she feigns a sweet tone before turning serious, “now you and your overweight Oompa Loompa lookin ass can leave.” In that moment Mickey starts laughing hysterically, and Ian has to refrain himself from doing the same. The case worker rubs her temples before muttering, “lord help me.” Dave sighs and says to the girl, “always a pleasure y/n,” before he walks out of the room. The case worker turns to look at the three and says, “I have some other things to tend to, so I will let you three get acquainted. Dave will be just outside the door, should anything go…awry.” She proceeds to shut the door as I slouch back in my chair and look at the two men. We sit there in silence for a second before I speak up, “Sooooooo, are you guys like gay?” Mickey pipes up and says, “well no he is, I just like having another man’s dick in my ass” he points to Ian as he speaks. Ian immediately look at Mickey, “MICK!” I start laughing before sitting up. “No no it’s ok, that’s chill. I was just askin.”

Ian looks at me with a bit of surprise before responding, “yes we’re gay.” I nod slightly, “I fuck with that. So what’s kinda the sitch with me, I guess.” Ian hesitated before looking at his husband then back at me. “Well we would love to foster you if that something that you’d be interested in.” I think for a moment before telling him, “honestly I’m down, I need to get away from this ratchet hoe of a case worker, if you can even call her that. The only thing she works is my last goddamn nerve.” Mickey and Ian take one more look at me then each other before Mickey states, “then I guess we have some paper work to sign.”

Ian and Mickey decide to foster y/n and so they bring her home the next week, everything was going smoothly… until it wasn’t.

Ian was in the middle of his work day when he had gotten a call from the high school. “Hello?” Ian said as he answered the phone. A shrill elderly woman answered back, “is this the guardian of Y/n Y/L/N?” Ian started becoming confused and worried. “Yes I am, is everything ok is she alright?!” He heard the woman sigh before responding to his initial question. “Sir you might want to come down to the school.” And with that he hung up and dashed out to the car and started driving. While he was on his way to the school he called Mickey. “Yo what’s going on.” Is the first thing Mickey said. It was unusual for Ian to just call outta the blue. “I just got a call from the school. Something about y/n.” Ian replied in a worried tone. “Oh fuck ok, I can’t make it to the school in time but I’ll meet you at the house.” Mickey said hurriedly. “Alright bye.” And with that Ian hung up and dashed to the school.

When He arrived at the school, he went to the office and told the secretary that he was here to the see principal about his foster child. She let him in after giving him a visitors pass. He walked into the pristine office where y/n was sitting in a chair outside the room. He immediately walked up to her and kneeled down to her level, “hey are you ok what happened.” All the girl did was pull away from him and he took that as I sign to leave her alone for a second. He walked into the spotless office and approached the desk. The principal stood up and outstretched his hand, signaling Ian to shake it. They shook hands when the principal spoke. “Mr…Gallagher was it?” Ian took a seat on the chairs in front of the desks. “Yes sir. Is everything ok, your secretary didn’t give me much insight as to what is going on.” Ian asked, wanting an answer to some questions he had. The principal sighed as he leaned back. “Mr. Gallagher, I’m afraid y/n is going to have to be suspended for the next 7 school days.” Ian was now not only confused but upset. What did y/n do and why. “May I ask why.” He asked, trying to maintain a calmer tone. “You see, y/n was in the middle of her Algebra 2 class and was talking with another student when she jumped out of her seat and started assaulting the boy. By the time the police officer had come into the room and pulled her off of the boy he was bloodied and bruised. Paramedics were called and he is now in the hospital.” Ian had to take a minute to process the information before he finally found the words to respond. “Well is the boy alright?” “Oh he’s fine, he does have a broken nose and a concussion but I’m afraid the damage might’ve been worse if the officer had not been nearby. Now I must ask you to take your daughter off the premises and we’ll give you a call soon about her assignments that she’ll need to have completed when she returns,” the principal stated.

Ian walked out of the room swiftly, “get up y/n. We’re leaving.” He said annoyed. The girl followed him swiftly and they walked out to the car and proceeded to drive home in silence. As they arrived home Ian tried to talk to her. “Hey what the fuck was that about.” But she continued to ignore him as she tried to walk to her room. Before she could get far, Ian grabbed her arm and spun her toward him, holding her in place by her arms and leaning down to her level. “Hey, talk to me what’s going on. If you’re gonna stay here you need to be upfront with that kinda shit so what! The fuck! Happened!” He tried to reason with her before she look up at him, eyes filled to the brim with tears threatening to topple over. “He-… he was talking about you and mick.” She squeaked out. Trying to maintain her composure. “So you hit him?!” Ian yelled as he tried to understand why she would do something so randomly. “NO! I hit him when he thought it was a good idea to call you and Mickey f@gg0ts!”

She yanked her arms out of Ian’s gasp as she ran to her room and slammed the door. Ian stood there speechless. He decided he would leave her alone and wait for Mickey to get there to see what they should do.

Mickey came home about 5-10 minutes after Ian and y/n did and that’s when Ian filled him in on what happened. She heard muffled sounds from her room and went ahead and started packing her bags. Thinking that they were getting ready to send her back to the DCFS. As she was getting the last of her stuff together she heard a slight knock. Just as she was about to tell whoever it was to fuck off, Mickey came in the room before stopping in his tracks. “Hey the fuck you doin?” He asked quietly as he look at the girl with her bags. “Packin my shit” she said plainly. Mickey knew what she was thinking and sat down on her bed. He patted the side next to him, letting her know it was ok to sit next to him. “Why are you packin your bags?” He asked her. “You gonna send me back ain’t you?” She said obviously. “Why in hell would we do that?” He asked with a slight laugh. “Cause I got in trouble again, people don’t normally want a girl that’s beaten up some bitch.” Mickey can’t contain his laughs as he looks at the girl. “I’ve been in jail for worse.” She looks up at him confusedly, “so you ain’t gonna send me back?” She asks timidly, thinking for sure that she was gone. “No, we aren’t gonna send you back. And after the way you stood up for us, I think it’s best that you stick around.” Her eyes widen at the thought, “you mean like you wanna, ya know?” Mickey smiles. She didn’t want to get her hopes up by saying it out loud. Mickey puts a hand on her shoulder, “yeah, yeah me and Ian wanna adopt you.” She doesn’t have any words she just hugs him and he hesitantly hugs her back. After a minute or two, Ian walks in and clears his throat. The two pull apart immediately, not wanting to be caught being “sappy”. Ian smiles at the two before he tilts his head toward the door, “cmon let’s go get those papers.” Mickey and y/n get up and walk toward the front door before Ian says, “and afterwards we can grab some pizza.” Both y/n and Mickey say simultaneously “OOH PIZZA!” Ian just laughs and they al walk out to the car. The whole car ride to the DCFS office had been filled with jokes and smiles, and she thought, maybe this was where she belonged.

[writerofadream]

Fortune favors the Bold ⛓

TDI!Duncan x Juvie Bestfriend! Reader ⛓

Chapter Twenty Five: He's like whiskey, she's like champange

^^ Duncan next chapter-

I’d like to apologize, I’ve been absent cause my friend was evicted and needed a place to stay and I was busy trying to help her out. Here’s a new chapter!

—

(Are you excited? This is the episode you get voted off! But it’s okay because I’ll do a ‘you both coming home’ chapter ‘spoiler: someone might be pregnant.’)

It had been pouring all week, you thought you were going to lose your mind. You love rain as much as the next eccentric teenager, but there comes a point where you're this close to drowning yourself in the next puddle you see.

You and your fellow campers sat on opposing stairs. Heather painted her nails while Gwen drew a picture of every single camper she had met, and then Duncan was carving a spear and held out his hand to you which was holding the various types of blades that he desired to carve.

Chris made an announcement that your mind didn’t really process because the RAIN WAS SO LOUD.

Gwen and Heather began arguing over Leshawna getting voted off. Honestly you were this close to accidentally dropping the knife into Heather's eye socket. There comes a certain point where anybody will lose their mind. 

That last challenge was horrifying. 

Your body subconsciously shuddered and in moments Duncan had his sweatshirt around you, but it seemed like he didn’t even move.

 

You smiled and pecked him on the lips. “Why are you making me like this weather?” Your boyfriend grumbled. “Because I’m your fantastic girlfriend and I make everything better.” You stuck your tongue out. “Mhm better be happy that’s true.” Duncan smiled.

Gwen and Heather both went inside their cabin, and slammed the door shut. You stifle a laugh. 

“Wanna go inside?” Duncan gave you a suggestive wink. You smiled, giving him another kiss before you ran inside.

“Come get me, Tiger.” You winked and he smiled jumping up onto his feet. “Alright scorpion.” You slammed the door shut in his face running to hide in your cabin stopping yourself from the giggles that wanted to burst.

—

The next morning the rain had finally stopped, but it had severely drowned everything around you. “You think you would’ve gotten into Noah’s ark?” You asked your boyfriend, genuinely curious. 

You wore a shirt that covered your neck (keepsakes from last night), and a pair of flared jeans that made you look like a hippie in the eighties, much to Duncan’s delight.

“Mm, I’m not sure. I don’t believe in things I can’t see.” He watched a chair float by, the cabins were currently floating in the water but no one else had gotten up yet. 

“Well what do you believe in?” Now you were curious and intrigued. “Well I believe in your strength. I believe in my moms wisdom. I believe in people.” He grabbed your hand and squeezed it. 

A small aww came out of your mouth and he blushed. “How about you darlin’?” He asked putting his chin on your shoulder.

“Hmm. I believe in myself and you. I believe I’ll see my mama again and I believe that if you put your mind to it you deserve it.” You declared and he laughed. 

“So much justice in that mind of yours but you never act on it.” He teased and you rolled your eyes.

“Because I was never meant too, honey we lived in the worst city, in the worst town, in the worst place. We were kinda destined to be horrible.” You sighed sadly. “But we’re going to do better than that aren’t we?” He asked, smiling. 

You nodded.

Suddenly you heard Gwen and Heather scream.

“Oh look at our favorite girls!” You smiled and walked out of the cabin briskly before falling into the water.

Duncan followed but he cannonballed in much to your annoyance. The girls were grumbling, which seemed all they could ever do. You watched a fin circle them. 

“Shark!” Duncan screamed, ruining your fun. All four of you quickly got out of the water and back onto the cabin, shivering from the chill.

You watched the shark eat the wood structures. “Have you ever been eaten before?” You asked, you knew a good chunk of his fathers punishments but not all of them. 

“I’ve been mauled by dogs when I was like six. Sharks, no.” He shook his head staring at the creature. “Owen!” Heather screamed and for a moment you thought the girl had an ounce of sympathy for the blonde, but then you remembered.

She was Heather.

Of course she didn’t have a heart.

She wanted the shark to eat the overweight boy and you knew your boyfriend (cough, husband, cough) would throw hands if anything happened to his third boyfriend, you smiled at the thought and Duncan raised an eyebrow and squeezed your hand.

You crashed into land and everybody quickly came off the boat grateful for the crash.

“Anything broken?” Both you and Duncan did a quick 5372 assessment of each other, which was fancy terms for a quick look over.

“Is anyone else creeped out about this island?” Gwen mumbled an anxious look across her face and you squeezed her shoulder in sympathy. 

Heather obviously decided to feed Gwen’s fear and you watched your boyfriend lay down on the sand by a bow and arrow. You laughed, and squatted down, kissing his forehead.

“Wake me up if you get hungry and we’ll go hunting.” Duncan grumbled before he tried to sleep on the sand causing Gwen to begin an argument, “We need to find food and shelter, we need to at least make a raft!” Gwen whined and without missing a beat Duncan pointed at you, who had made one as soon as you stepped on the island.

“I’m in love with a girl who completes everything in four seconds. Get used to it, sister.” Duncan said his eyes still shut in relaxation. 

“I’m not using that unless it’s made by a sane person.” Heather shrieked, causing you to roll your eyes. “I’m sorry, hun. I’d just prefer it done by a professional.” Gwen said sheepishly rubbing the back of her neck, a blush rising on her face.

—

You stared at the camera, annoyed. “I look at Duncan and we both think ‘Maybe juvie was the better choice.’”

—

As Duncan and Gwen begin their argument, you occasionally chiming in, you notice Heather walk off to find shelter. For the first time ever, you think, you might actually respect the diva queen. 

You watch her climb into a treehouse and you see a pulley on the outside of the door, your voice catches on your throat to be careful, and when she opens the door a skeleton falls from it causing her to fall backwards and scream.

One by one you'll notice huge bones lying around the area. There are dinosaur bones, as well as human bones. 

“Think we’re still upstream from camp?” Heather yells at Duncan. “I’ve been wrong before.” He says in his defense. You resist the urge to roll your eyes at the near constant bickering, half the time there was no point to the madness.

You all went back up the treehouse ladder to investigate the house once more. You poke the skeleton and are not surprised when you see the strings. “This is like Boney Island.” You grumbled, not enjoying how the skeleton made you think of your mom.

Heather agreed. “Unfortunately, the she-devil is right. This is another survival challenge. I’m not scared of you, Chris.” She yelled into the air hoping the mad-man would respond to her calls. 

Duncan and Gwen began arguing but you knew Gwen’s anger was just forged out of fear. You knew, Duncan knew the drill. You had escaped multiple prison’s and landed on islands before, there was no reason for him to be scared.

“Every camper for themselves. Let’s go Y/N.” Duncan ordered and grabbed your wrist, albeit a bit harshly and led you away, picking up his bow and arrow as well. 

Gwen waved goodbye sadly. 

—

|Trending on X right now|

#thecasualdominance?

#howdidshebuildtheraft-

#smartgirlfriendxdelinquentboyfriend

#fortheloveofallthingsmarryher

#weweredestinedtobehorrible

—-

“Can you help me with my form?” You looked up and saw Duncan struggling with the quickly crafted bow.

You lightly smiled and took the bow gently out of his hands and showed him how to do the form. “Release the bow, any target.” He told you, smiling. You nodded curtly and your eyes searched through the forest before landing on a distant coconut. You held your breath for five seconds, and let out for ten.  

“Oh where did that go?” Duncan grumbled, causing you to point into the forest. 

—-

You and Duncan were eating fruit by the beach as you watched Gwen try to dock on the boat you had crafted. You stifle a laugh behind your palm each time she falls into the water. Once she finally gets on she turns to look at you.

“Since you made the raft, Y/N you can come if you’d like.” Gwen made the offer but glared at Duncan. “I want your egg if you're coming.” She demanded and Duncan sighed, throwing the large egg into the grateful girl's hands.

You pushed the boat away from the sand and Heather ran from the treehouse screaming offers so you’d take the girl with you. You sent Duncan a look trying to convey that you were going to get off if Heather came on board.

Thankfully Gwen must’ve sensed your nervousness and began paddling away quicker than before. She had been paddling for around two hours before Duncan broke the silence. “You paddle like a girl.” He grumbled, and then you promptly punched him. 

Who said true love doesn’t exist?

 Gwen looked set on cursing him out but you spoke up when you saw the island again.

“Gwen, are you rowing in circles?” She shook her head as you redocked the island, “What the hell! That will cost you one omelet.” Duncan yelled, snatching the egg from off the boat.

They began to engage in a game of tug-a-war. “Get your hands off my egg, crazy.” Gwen screamed at Duncan, who’s eyes flickered with sadness.

You growled and stalked up to the two, dropping to your feet and swinging your leg under hers to knock her right down. You caught the egg right before it fell. Gwen pointed at the sky and you looked up. There was a huge dinosaur above you.

Duncan grabbed the egg out of your hands and began running.

“Come and get me birdie!” He yelled trying to draw its attention. Suddenly the large dinosaur swooped in and picked up Duncan in its talons, and flew back into the air. 

A hoarse scream fell out of your mouth.

You grabbed a stray line of rope and with all your strength threw it around Duncan’s ankles, and then the bird lifted you into the air. With all your expertise from military camp you scaled the rope, and climbed onto the feet of the dinosaur.

Duncan had his eyes shut, but he felt a hand on his wrist and they flew open. They softened once they saw you.

Over the harsh wind you heard him yell “Marry me?” and you tried not to cry. “Anytime, anyplace baby.” You yelled in return. 

Then the dinosaur dropped you, right into Owen’s arms.

Who for some reason had a beard?

Suddenly Gwen came barreling into you guys, and Owen scooped her up as well. “My brethren!” Owen yelled. But then a snake fell around his shoulders.

“Let me rephrase that… RUN!” he dropped you all to start running up the ladder into the treehouse.

You all quickly followed in pursuit. 

Gwen watched as you sat on Duncan’s lap, your stomach facing his. You wrapped your arms around him, and dug your chin into his collarbone, trying to feel his heartbeat. “Still here sweetheart. I promise.” He whispered.

“We need to confess our sins.” Gwen’s eyes flickered up to Owen and she scoffed. “I’m serious, I did it and I feel great.” The blonde smiled clearly dehydrated. 

—

“Oh my god, so you killed his dad?” Heather gawked at you. “You set her dad’s office on fire-” Gwen’s eyes widened staring at Duncan. You both nodded sheepishly. “...Yes, but still not as bad as what you did, Gwen. Even if that's your real name.” You teased, with a kind smile. 

“Or even Heather.” Duncan looked the rich-girl up and down. 

“My brother deserved it.” Heather grumbled.

—

You were staring at Chris dumbly. “Oh come on princess, surprised to see me?” he gave you a smirk and holy hell there was no greater urge you had then to punch his stupid face into the stupid ground and beat him until he was black and blue.

“Time for a campfire, my children.” Then he promptly skipped away.

—

“I’m going to kill myself.” Duncan grumbled as he washed the war paint off his face in your cabin.

“Honey, it’ll be alright. We always stick together right?” You hugged him from behind. “If I lose you tonight, I don’t know what I’ll do.” Duncan turned around and kissed your knuckles.

You smiled sadly. “Mi amor, even thousands of miles apart, I’d still be right with you. You are the keeper of my heart, forever until even the gods die.” You whisper and lightly kiss his lips.

“Plus, it’s not like there’s gonna be some plot twist or something.” a laugh falls out of your mouth.

—

“Tonight, there is a twist on the campfire. Since I lost so many interns in the production of this video, management said I’d have to let them vote a camper off. Which kinda is boring but whatever.” Chris grumbled, and Chef handed him the envelope before scurrying off. 

Chris opened it and his mouth dropped, his eyes widened, and somewhere in there you saw an ounce of pure and utter anger. Something that guarantees that the interns are going to have a hell filled week for the next couple months.

“The one who will be leaving us tonight is…”

Duncan squeezed your hand tight.

“Y/N L/N.” 

You felt something break, and it didn’t come from you. You looked at Duncan and saw his entire personality shift. He went blank, cold, and calculating. 

“HE’S OUR’S NOW BITCH.” You saw a redhead intern scream at you, before she went back to the intern-side of camp. Duncan nearly pulled out his gun, but you stopped his wrist.

“I love you, and if you don’t win, my love, I will kick your ass, understand?” You kissed his lips, and he nodded swiftly trying to withhold his anger.

You began walking away but Chris couldn’t stop himself.

“I’ll miss your face, along with other things, beautiful.” Chris winked, and a soft smile appeared on your face. You stepped in closer towards him. Then promptly punched him straight in the nose, and kicked him in the groin, he groaned and fell to the ground.

You stepped onto the boat of losers and began to drive away. 

But when has Y/N L/N ever played by the rules?

You stepped next to the captain with a fond smile, and quickly knocked him out, dumping him into a lifeboat and letting it go into the water. You walked back to the steering wheel and began to drive… straight to New York.

There was this anger, in the back of your mind. She was yelling at the top of her lungs, to have control, and like a calming wave, you let it. Being on that island, did you no favors.

You had it easy, food, a shelter, freaking Duncan. But now it was time to go back, to get the messy things done.

Anger was your coping mechanism. It kept you on the path you wanted, and the path you wanted currently entailed making sure that your fiancè would have his dream life to come back too. Anger gets things done, sadness does not.

[The camera zooms in on a small ring on your finger]

—

|Trending on X right now|

#OHMYGOD

#shutup-shedidntcomebacktohim-

#THEYMARRIED

#WHATTTTT

#imsobbingtears,streaming,downmyfacern

—

I’d like to thank all my wonderful supporters, who stayed with me, throughout the series. There will be an epilogue probably tmw, and soon I’ll start the second season.

I love yall!

—-

Bonus: 

Mick got out of his seat and walked over to the door which was currently being pounded on.

He and his brothers were in shock, their little sister just got voted off? Poor Duncan, he was losing his shit on TV right now. Since the show started all the brothers had been at Mick’s house for viewing.

Mick opened the door and his jaw dropped. There you stood, you wore a pair of black jeans, along with an old WSC sweatshirt which looked like Duncan’s, and you had a cocky smile which Mick could tell was fabricated.

“Miss me?”

“Well I’ll be a son-of-a-gun.”

------

tagged: @lostsomewhereinthegarden

[pimpnchips]

Love For Me

Faran Bryant x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Smut

Not proof read!!

“I wanna know if you got love for me” You stated, staring into faran’s eyes while grabbing her hands and pulling her closer. You and faran had been friends for a while now however the last of events with A have brought the two of you closer than ever. Subtle looks across the room and unnecessary touches weren’t enough for you. You craved faran for years but now the longing for her has gotten stronger.

“Y/n..” she whispered, looking away and back at you.

“I’m with Henry I can’t do that to him”

You sighed in frustration, “You said it your yourself, you and Henry aren’t in a good place recently what if I’m what you need faran.” This feeling you felt for faran was a feeling you’ve never feel for any girl that you’ve dated.

Faran starts to tear up, she knows that you’re right but she can’t break Henry’s heart but she couldn’t break yours either. So whatever she said in this moment would break either you or Henry. She loved you more than anything, but the guilt would eat her alive.

“Give me time, please baby” she asked, raising her hand up to cup your cheeks, wiping away the tears that flowed down your face. You shook your head in disbelief not understanding why couldn’t she just drop Henry for you. He was never right for her and she can’t seem to understand that. You brushed her hand away from you.

“All I’ve been giving you faran is fucking time! Choose between me or him” you yelled, frustration taking over.

She looked down not knowing what to say or do.

You chuckled bitterly, “fuck this”

You left faran sitting there in her thoughts. Why couldn’t she say that she chooses you? The two of you have known each other for years. Loved each other for years and she couldn’t put you over a boy she met only a year ago.

__________

Pride Party

Noa and faran sat at the edge of the pool staring at their two lovers that they dismissed for their boyfriends. The girls arms over some rich townie’s. Faran stared at you as a girl with brunette hair ran her pink painted nails over your toned body. Her jaw clenched as the girl wrapped both of her arms around your neck, making your lips turn up into a smile. You wanted to show faran how happy you were without her.

“Me and Jen didn’t just meet at the pizza place, we were together together in juvie” Noa explained, turning around to the edge of the pool. Her friends following behind with the same action. “We actually hooked up recently” she says looking at her friends.

Faran exhales, “I guess since we’re telling the truth.. me and y/n have been hooking up too”

The three other girls glance at each other with chuckle, “Come on, we all knew that we were waiting for you two” Imogen laugh’s.

“The looks were obvious” Mouse said.

“Y/n told me to choose between her and Henry and I couldn’t say anything I was completely in shock I didn’t know what to do” Faran played with the rings on her fingers as she told her friends what was going on.

“I see the way she looks at you, hell, I see the way the both of you look at each other. You guys are made for each other and if anyone says otherwise they’re kidding themselves” Tabitha tries to sympathize.

_____

“Fuck, keep going baby” You moan, throwing your head back in pleasure.

“Tell me your mine and I’ll let you cum” Faran speeds up her fingers, curling them in you wet pussy.

Things had took a turn the night of the pride party. Faran pulled you to the side in which you refused but she didn’t take no for an answer and you ended up going to Faran’s house in which the two of you argued but it quickly turned into a make out session that didn’t stop.

She made out with you on top of the covers, kissing everywhere until you cried her name. Her hand was so hot against your skin as she rubbed your clit, making you go insane. She pulled away, pulling down the thin strap of your sports bra which fell on your breast. She kissed you, licking at your lips before sucking lightly on your lower lip. When your tongues touched there was such hunger, lust, passion. You couldn’t think straight.

You wanted her more than ever in this moment. ‘Please, fuck me, please fuck me’ you pleaded. “Faran, please” you cried out. The way she looked at you with those beautiful brown eyes was like nothing else. Your stomach twisted and your heart pounded. You wanted to be consumed.

“Come here” Faran demanded as she rolled you onto her lap. You moaned when her hands trailed down from your breasts to your crotch. She gripped you roughly, making sure you felt her touch as you ground yourself against her.

your legs were shaky as they wrapped around her body. Her fingers slid across your sex, finding you wet and ready to explode. Faran pressed one finger against you. You whimpered as you felt her fingers slide inside you. “Is this okay? Is this all you want?”

“Yes, oh God yes, fuck me” You said between pants. You grabbed onto the sheets as if trying to keep your balance while her other hand continued to tease your pussy. Her fingers worked you slowly, teasingly, until you felt the first drop fall on you. “Oh my fucking god, I can’t…”, you cried out when your orgasm hit.

she laughed lightly, rubbing circles on your pussy to relax you from the intense orgasm. You tried to catch your breath, staring into her beautiful chocolate eyes. You leaned in, pressing soft lips against hers. You both sighed in contentment. Her hands cupped your face and she brought you closer so you could kiss softly again.

“I love you” Faran whispered against your mouth. “You are the best thing that has ever happened to me”

You smiled slightly, stroking her hair gently. “I am yours, babe”

“I broke up with Henry” She said, looking into your eyes.

“ I don’t want to be with anyone if it isn’t you” faran continued , looking intently into your eyes.

“I want you, I want us to be together forever. Do you understand?” She asked. You nodded, leaning into her and wrapping your arms tightly around her neck. You kissed her again, your lips fitting perfectly together.

Faran held your face gently, caressing your cheekbones and kissing you passionately. She ran her tongue along your bottom lip asking for entrance. You opened your mouth for her, letting her lick in as deep as she wanted. The two of you kissed hungrily, tongues swirling and pushing each other in an attempt to get closer to each other.

__________

[b0nten]

MIGHT AS WELL

[SYNOPSIS] ˚⁀➷｡ a love like yours was hard to come across. one like you he’ll never find, nor does he wish for. he only wants you, had only the stars aligned.

[NOTES] ˚⁀➷｡ angst, mentions of vomiting, rindou calls reader some very nasty words!

rindou was good at doing splits. he was good at fighting. he was good at surviving in juvie. there were plenty of things rindou was skilled at, except one. and it just so happened to be gentle, loving, and funny. it happened to have h/c luscious hair and striking e/c eyes. it so happened to be you.

rindou had had his fair share of relationships and hook-ups, but never had the thought of falling in love crossed his mind. he was of the simple hit-and-quit type, a curse he loved to blame on his older brother, and therefore got along with the idea of never settling down.

one windy september afternoon, though, the stars finally had mercy on him and faith guided him to you. it would’ve been a normal day, another fight, another drink, another stroll through the streets but that particular tuesday it so happened to be special.

unlike after most fights, that day he was pissed. he had not found his correct footing and ended up slipping, falling face-first into a pile of rocks, inviting some maggots to take their chance to kick at him. although still coming out victoriously, rindou couldn’t contain his anger, but he couldn’t let it out anymore either, since there was nobody standing anymore, so he just bid his farewell, and with a purple face took a long walk.

that also ended up not working, so he rushed into the nearest convenience store he could find, thanking the universe he knew roppongi like the back of his hand, and sliding past every rack, he bolted for the refrigerators and took ahold of the biggest beer he could find.

he wasn’t even out of the store by the time he took his first sip. once out the door he moved to the right, leaning against the tempered glass, closing his eyes.

“are those hickeys or did you get beat up real’ good?”

“fuck you want from me?” he said, not even opening his eyes.

“you could at least look me in the eyes when you’re being an asshole, plum face.” you spat back, this time just as angry as rindou.

when he opened his eyes, cupid’s arrow struck him.

“i’m sorry, uh..”

“y/n.”

“i’m sorry, y/n, i’m having a bad day.”

“should’ve guessed, i’m sorry for the joke.” you apologized in return, and a faint blush spread across his cheeks.

“it’s alright, don’t worry.” rindou reassured, “rindou, by the way.”

“so, rindou, why are you drinking cheap 7-11 beer at 4 in the afternoon?” you couldn’t help but ask, since his purple face was too intriguing.

“wouldn’t wanna bore you with it, it’s alright.” the blonde said in return, taking another sip, “and the beer’s actually good.”

“i’ve got a feeling you wouldn’t bore me. still skeptical about the beer tho. come on, talk, it might actually help you.”

and as corny as the encounter may have been, that is how you two became the closest friends ever and, finally, started dating.

there was never a dull moment with rindou, from amusement park dates to museum visits to shopping or cooking together, everything was exciting. he made your heart pump faster every time you saw him, and his heart was ready to jump out of his chest every time he even thought about you.

through patching him up after fights and curling his hair, you were always there for him. in confessions of heartache and fears, you were each others’ shoulder to cry on. and one says that in order to love, one has to let live, so what was happening with him in front of you right now?

his hair was messy and his voice tried not to tremble or break, but the guilt was eating him alive since he had come to this decision. in those two years he had finally learned how to live and love because of you, you had never seen him like this, he is sure of that.

but still, how can he bring himself to just shoo away the love of his life, but how can he keep you with him when it’s just so dangerous? his heart is torn apart in two, and his mind blank. should he be selfish or selfless, whichever way the words may fit to what he wants to do? should you live and hate him or possibly die while loving him?

was it actually selfless to let you go and selfish to keep you? or the other way around?

“we’re done, y/n.”

his eyes are glued to a painting to his left. his eyes burn, trying not to let out any tears at all.

you feel like you can’t breathe anymore. their penthouse feels like a small metal box and the air around is thick. you think you can hear you heart break or maybe it’s the construction work being done outside. the first time he said it you thought you had misheard him, but he really wants to break up.

“rindou, what? are you for real?”

he doesn’t say anything, he just nods, this time just looking at the floor.

“speak to me, rindou, at least have some decency!” you half-yell, not being able to call him names.

“i’ve gotten bored,” he says, “two years was way too much to work and i’ve gotten tired.” he wants to bite his face off but he knows he has to stay still.

“bored? of what? of us, of me? what the hell are you on about, rin?” he almost breaks down when he hears you call him by his nickname, and the sweet memories it holds are just excruciating.

“yes. and don’t call me that, you cheap whore… i-i know you only used me for money and drugs so it’s hight time you go and find another one to screw.”

you’re left dumbfounded at his words.

“what has gotten into you? are you alright?” you step closer but he takes a step back. it shatters your heart even more, and here you were thinking it was already down to zero.

“wake up, y/n! i’m not in love! i don’t love you, i never have, you dumb, foreign, ugly slut! you were one of my many whores, what did you think was so special about you?”

he feels a lump build up in his stomach, and his mouth is drenched in saliva, he feels the need to throw up immediately.

he finds the silence strange, creepy, obnoxious, why aren’t you talking anymore? he musters up the courage to look up and he wishes he hadn’t. you’re there, or is it actually you? he can’t tell. he sees your figure, he sees your eyes.

your eyes. they’re empty. they’re nothing anymore. they look like they’re hollow. he’s scared, he’s disappointed in him, he’s even sicker in his stomach.

he turns around to go anywhere, and before he reaches the door you speak up.

“you might as well have beat me purple like how you were the day we met. it would’ve been easier to get over.”

upon you ending the sentence, he swings the door open and goes out, the impact with the wall closing it shut again. he finds the nearest hollow or almost hallow object — a plant — and throws up in there. he cries as he lets all of the built up anger, regret and sadness fill the flower pot. he curses himself out and curses bonten even more, but thank god you’re still in there.

[ereardon]

That Summer || Part Two [Bradley Bradshaw x Reader]

A Bradley Bradshaw AU

Summary: One night during the summer you turned eighteen, you woke up to a surprise. Your father, a retired Navy Admiral, had posted bail for the son of a former colleague who was now orphaned and had gotten himself mixed up with the law. Instead of letting him get lost in the judicial system, your father signed himself up as Bradley Bradshaw’s guardian to prevent him from going to juvie. You were explicitly told to stay away from the boy in the attic room. But as the summer went on, you and Bradley struck up an unlikely friendship that turned into a forbidden relationship. Bradley tipped your world upside down, challenging everything you had once thought you knew. How could the two of you think it would end any differently than it did when your father called the cops the night he found the two of you in bed together?

Pairing: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x Reader 

Warnings: Cursing, angst, dead parents, mention of a car accident, nightmares

Wordcount: 4K

Series masterlist here; Part One here; Part Three here

Bradley had three things on his person besides the clothes on his back the night he got locked up. 

A photo of his parents, smiling into the camera, eyes bright behind matching pairs of aviator sunglasses, the California sun shining bright in the background. 

His father’s dog tags that hung around his neck, his mother's wedding band glinting next to the dulled metal tags, ensuring he carried the two of them wherever he went.

And a second photo. Less crinkled and weathered than the one of his parents, like it hadn't been folded and opened back up as many times. If you squinted, you could make out the clear blue waves in the background. 

Four adults stood in the photo, two pairs of parents. And in their arms sat two babies, only a few months apart. The babies were looking at each other. Curiosity. Intrigue. Confusion. Every emotion under the sun simultaneously conveyed in their tiny faces. 

Bradley pulled the photo out of his pocket, sliding it under a pile of socks in the first dresser drawer. 

Hiding it. For now. 

***

You didn’t know, but Bradley watched you from the attic room. He watched the way you gracefully laid on the beach and he watched you devour book after book while lying on the hot sand until you couldn’t bear the heat in your body anymore and you’d make a run for it into the crashing ocean waves. 

Bradley watched you carefully at meals. The cagey way you spoke to your mother. The way you turned to look at your father for approval before agreeing with something. The polite way you pushed food around your plate when you disliked it but didn’t want to tell the cook. 

He saw everything. Even the way you looked at him with curiosity when you thought he didn’t notice. 

You spent your days languishing. Bradley spent his planning his next steps. 

The Admiral had given him a lifeline. But Bradley still didn’t have a fully formed plan for what was next. He had left California with only a few hundred dollars in cash, and your family’s name engraved in his mind. 

“Go to the Sullivan’s,” his mother had said once. “They’ll help you.” 

He hadn’t planned on getting arrested on his way to Galveston. 

Nothing that Bradley had planned was coming to fruition, and what had happened since his mother died he could have never planned for.  

***

“So what’s he like?” 

You sighed and licked a drip of melted ice cream away from the rapidly softening side of your sugar cone. “Who, Bradley?” 

“Obviously.” Ivy rolled her eyes. “The mystery boy in the attic.” 

“He has a name,” you said. “And I don’t know. He’s quiet. I barely see him. I’m not supposed to.” 

“So what, he just sits in the attic all day like a fucking prisoner?” 

You shrugged. “I don’t know. I see him at breakfast and dinner and I’ve seen him in the yard a few times. It’s only been two weeks.” You failed to mention that you had gone to his room in the middle of the night when you heard his wailing from his nightmares. Ivy didn’t need to know that. She might have been your best friend since you moved to Galveston, but that felt like a secret only for Bradley to know. 

“Is he hot?” Her voice dropped an octave, like your father could hear you even though the two of you were halfway across the island. 

You turned to her with a shake of your head. “I don’t know? I’ve only ever seen him drowning in my dad’s old shirts.” You also failed to mention seeing Bradley shirtless during his nightmare. 

“I bet he’s hot,” Ivy said, slipping her sunglasses over her eyes. “They always are.” 

“Who do you mean by they?” you asked, sliding into the other side of the golf cart as she turned the ignition key. 

“You know,” she whispered. “Bad boys.” 

You laughed, an open mouthed cackle that had one of the neighbors, Mrs. Gleeson, shooting you a demonic glare. The two of you raised your hands in a neighborly wave and she begrudgingly followed suit, matching your fake smile. 

That was something you had picked up quickly after moving. Appearances mattered. It didn’t matter if you actually cared about what someone was saying. You just had to act like it. 

And it really didn’t matter if you wanted desperately to do something. If it looked wrong, you didn’t do it. 

Ivy steered the golf cart toward your house. She was headed to UT in the fall and was in a similar predicament as you — her parents wanted her to experience the summer, not be bogged down by jobs or pressure. The difference was that Ivy relished in that while you bucked against it. She was fine spending her days bumming around the beach, driving in her Jeep with all the windows and top unzipped, spending thousands of dollars on a debutante dress for just one night. 

You wanted more. You just didn’t know else was out there. 

As the two of you bumped down the beach toward your house, you spotted a figure in the distance. You raised one hand, placing it flush against your forehead as a makeshift visor. 

Ivy noticed at the same time you did and her eyes went wide, her hand that wasn’t gripping the wheel slapping your bare thigh. “You bitch!” she cried. “He’s hot as fuck, you were hiding him weren’t you?” 

You shook your head. “I didn’t know.” 

The two of you pulled off the beach, driving up between your parent’s house and the Ander’s next door, watching as Bradley split wood with an ax. He looked up as Ivy cut the engine on the golf cart, hopping out with a giant smile on her face. “Hi!” she practically sang. “You must be Bradley.” 

He put down the ax, wiping away sweat from his brow. “Yeah.” 

“I’m Ivy,” she said, tossing her arm around your neck and tugging you in close. “Y/N’s best friend.” 

He hummed in acknowledgement. You watched in awe as sweat dripped down his tanned, muscular shoulders, over past his pecs, across his defined abs before disappearing into the waistband of his swim trunks. 

Ivy looked between the two of you and grinned. “How much more work do you have?” she asked. “Want to go swimming with us?” 

Bradley pointed to a small pile of wood near the house. “The Admiral asked me to chop this up for bonfires.” 

You nodded. “Bradley is busy,” you said. “Let’s just go inside and I can show you that dress I was talking about.” 

Ivy let her hand drop from your shoulders and put her hands on her waist. “No, this is much more interesting.” She shamelessly let her eyes roll over Bradley’s body. “Besides, there’s barely any wood in that pile. You’ll be done soon, right?” 

“I, uh, I guess.” 

“Great!” Ivy grinned. “We will grab beach towels and meet you down by the water when you’re done.” 

She skipped away and you followed, grabbing her delicate wrist and hissing in her ear once Bradley was out of earshot. “What are you doing?” 

“Being friendly, Y/N. Didn’t you know that was the Southern way?” she mocked. 

You grimaced. “Daddy’s going to throw a fit if he sees us swimming with him.” 

“Oh lighten up, Y/N,” she said, tossing open the front door and stepping inside like it was her house. “He won’t know, I promise.” 

That was the thing about Ivy. She pushed you out of your comfort zone, but in the best way. She was outgoing where you were shy. She had big Texas hair and a loud laugh and a zingy humor that people latched onto immediately. 

She didn’t always do what was right. But she always did what was fun. 

“I’m going to regret this,” you muttered as you slipped off your denim shorts and tank top to reveal a small white bikini, grabbing a set of beach towels and following after Ivy as she made her way out onto the beach.

The two of you dropped the towels under a heavy metal water bottle so they wouldn’t fly away before making your way out to the water. It was a scorching hot day. The ocean lapped like a lukewarm bath against your legs and you felt your breath catch. But it was a welcome change from California where the water generally had been cooler, more like a shock when you stuck your head below the surface. Here, in Texas, it was warm. Like everything else, it was a little oppressive. 

But you didn’t mind. Not at first. 

You were hip deep when you spotted Bradley making his way down the beach toward the shore. Ivy waved enthusiastically, her pale blue bikini now wet and a darker shade of blue. The strings dug into her plush hips and you couldn’t help but admire the way she moved, graceful, while you clumsily trudged through the wet sand. 

Bradley stopped at the waterline and you wondered for a moment if he knew how to swim. He looked at you, almost as if for approval. You gave him a small smile and he nodded slightly, wading into the water a few feet to your right. You pushed on further into the water until the both of you were submerged up to your chests. 

“First time in the ocean here?” you asked. 

Bradley nodded. “Never been to Texas before,” he replied. 

“Did you swim a lot in California?” 

“We used to go to Black’s Beach a lot. It’s a bit of a drive, but worth it for the waves.” 

“You surf?” 

Another nod. “Sometimes. I’m not great, but I try.” 

This was the most Bradley had really said to you in the two weeks he had been living at the house. Nearby, Ivy watched the two of you with fascination. 

You smiled, dipping your head back into the water, letting your hair get wet, and the ocean spray to hit your face. When you stood back up, Bradley was staring at you with a quiet intensity. 

“Do you like it here?” you asked after a moment. 

He shrugged. “It’s fine.” 

“I run sometimes,” you said. “In the mornings. If you ever want to join me.” 

For the first time, you saw a smile tug at the corners of Bradley’s mouth. “I’d like that.” 

Just as you were opening your mouth to reply, you heard a shrill, familiar voice. “Y/N!” All three heads turned to see your mother standing on the balcony of the house. Even from a hundred feet away you swore you could see the frown on her slim face. 

“Party’s over,” Ivy huffed under her breath, making her way toward shore. You sighed and followed suit, Bradley on your heels. 

The three of you grabbed towels, drying off as you walked up toward the house. It looked even more daunting because you knew what you would face inside. Your mother appeared at the end of the stairs from the deck that spanned the whole back of the house as you, Ivy and Bradley approached the base of the house. 

“Ivy,” she said cooly. “Your parents will want you home soon.” It wasn’t a question. It was a statement. 

“That’s my cue,” Ivy said, leaning in and giving you a hug, dropping her beach towel in your arms as she pulled away. “Love you.” 

“Bye,” you whispered as she grinned, waving one hand in the air, peeling away in the white golf cart. 

Your mother’s beady eyes locked on yours. “Bradley, dear,” she said, her eyes never leaving your face, “you can go inside and shower up before dinner please?” 

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied quietly, skirting past the two of you and heading up the tall staircase. 

You crossed your arms over your chest, the water droplets on your skin rapidly disappearing under the hot sun. She waited for the sound of the back door closing before opening her mouth. “What on Earth are you doing?” 

You shrugged. “Going for a swim.” 

“Your father and I were very clear that you were not to fraternize with the boy.” 

“His name is Bradley.” 

Her eyes practically popped out of her head. “Y/N, I mean it. In three months you’re leaving this house and I expect to see you leave here as a woman, not a girl.” 

You sighed. “Got my period when I was eleven, mother.” 

“That doesn’t make you a woman,” she said, looking you up and down. “You might look like a woman. But you are far from it, sweetheart. You think you know everything, don’t you? You think that boy in there is going to be some sort of adventure? Some new toy to play with? He’s a child, Y/N. You’re a child. We expect you to be a woman.” She paused, shaking her head. “Now go clean up for dinner. And we both know your father isn’t going to be happy when he hears about this.” 

You looked at her. Your mother had been different in California. Less straight laced. She let you eat ice cream on the beach at night and she wore loose dresses that did nothing to accentuate her tiny waist and she had been different in every way a person can be different. But something changed the minute you stepped onto Texas soil. She snapped back into an older version of herself. A mold of a woman who was weighed down by countless needless rules and expectations. She clung far too tight to things that to you made little to no sense. She clung to the past so hard and you wanted to know why she was desperate to make it your future. Maybe that was a secret you wouldn’t know until you were a mother. Maybe that was something you would only understand when you held your own daughter in your arms, tiny, fragile. 

Maybe then your mother would make sense. But until then, you looked at her and tried to figure out why she was the way that she was. Why she cared more about your hair being coiffed to perfection and the color of your nails and whether or not you sent out handwritten thank you cards on ivory cardstock after a birthday party than she did about your grades or your life skills. 

Why did they care so much if you wanted to get to know Bradley? 

Perhaps, more importantly, you wanted to know what he had done that made your parents so hesitant to let you speak to him. 

***

You stood in front of the three-panel mirror and grimaced. 

“Y/N,” your mother snapped. “For Heaven’s sake, smile. You look pained.”

You plastered a fake smile on your face. “Happy?”

She sighed. “Ecstatic.” 

It was the fourth dress shop your mother had dragged you to in as many days. 

“Well?” she asked impatiently. “What’s wrong with this one?” 

You slid your fingers over the silky bodice. “I don’t know. It’s just so … big.” You fluffed out the ballgown skirt. “Feels like I’m an upside down cupcake.” 

“You’ve said no to fourteen dresses.”

“I don’t care,” you said after a moment. “You pick it.” 

She shook her head. “This is your debutante ball, not mine, young lady. Marisha?” She called out for the poor sales woman who had been carting around heavy dresses for the two of you for the last hour. “Bring my daughter something with a smaller skirt please.” 

You went back into the dressing room and waited on Marisha. Finally, she reappeared with a slim satin dress with delicate mesh sleeves adorned with pearls. You slipped it on, drawing back the curtain and stepping up onto the podium in front of the semicircle of mirrors. 

“Well?” your mother asked. 

You took in the reflection staring back at you. For the first time, under the bright lights of the countless dress shops you had been to, you smiled. “This is the one.” 

***

Bradley felt like he was walking on eggshells. The Admiral had sat him down that first night and laid out the ground rules. 

He was under the Admiral’s guardianship for the next three months. Until his eighteenth birthday in early September. And then, he was on his own. 

“I knew your father,” the Admiral said, putting his hand on Bradley’s shoulder. “We flew together for years. He was a good man.” He paused. “He raised you better than this.” And then he left Bradley alone for that first night in the tower room. 

There were only three things that were clear. Bradley was on a ticking clock until he had to be out of your house. 

That he had to keep his nose clean after the arrest, especially because the Admiral had vouched for him. 

And finally, the most important rule of all. You were off limits. He shouldn’t talk to you, he shouldn't be your friend, he shouldn't get in your way. The Admiral didn’t explicitly say it, but the sentiment was clear enough. 

You were the golden child. You were beautiful. You held all of their promise in your two hands. And he was not going to fuck that up for you. 

So why did Bradley so desperately want to get to know you? Was it because he knew it was forbidden? 

Or was it because he knew you would change everything for him?

***

The next time you heard the telltale groans of Bradley’s nightmares, you were prepared. 

You grabbed the thermos from your desk and eased the door open gently, tiptoeing across the hallway toward the door at the base of the tower, letting yourself in, gently climbing the stairs. 

On the bed, Bradley was thrashing in his sleep, quiet groans rolling out of his mouth. You stepped closer, putting the thermos down on the ground, reaching out one hand, resting it gently on his arm. “Hey, hey,” you whispered and his eyes popped open. “Shh, it’s just me. It’s Y/N.” 

He sat up, breathing hard, bare chest glistening with sweat and heaving. You didn’t pull your hand away, keeping it resting on his arm, face drawn in concern. 

“You’re OK,” you whispered. “You’re safe here. Whatever was going on in your dream, it’s over.” 

Bradley shook his head. You bent over, reaching for the thermos, pouring a cup of ice water into the cap and holding it out. 

“Here,” you said. “Drink. It’s just water.” 

He took it cautiously, tipping it back into his mouth. After the first sip he gulped down the rest of the cap and you poured him a second serving. “Thank you,” he said after a moment, handing the empty cap back to you. You screwed it on and placed the metal thermos on the ground before sitting down lightly on the edge of the mattress. “Sorry if I woke you up.” 

You shook your head. “I don’t mind.” It wasn’t a lie. A part of you had wanted an excuse to come up and see Bradley again under the cloak of night. It felt safer in a way. Away from prying eyes. Away from the pervasive judgment that filled not only your house but the whole island. 

“Why are you being so nice to me?” he asked. 

You frowned. “Why wouldn’t I?” 

Bradley thought about it for a second. He didn’t have an answer, other than people usually let him down. “I don’t know. Just don’t see what you have to gain.” 

“Being nice isn’t about gaining anything,” you said. “Sometimes it’s just about being nice.” You paused. “Besides, I thought we could be friends.” 

He smiled sadly. “Thought you weren’t supposed to talk to me.” 

“Well, I thought we could be secret friends,” you said. 

“How would that work?” 

You shrugged. “I can come up here at night and we can talk.” 

“That’s all you want, Y/N?” he asked quietly. “To talk?” 

You felt a shiver run through your body. You were suddenly aware of how close Bradley was sitting and how bare his chest was. You swallowed harshly. “Yeah. I like to talk.” 

He smirked. “I noticed.” “I kind of have to,” you said. “You’re a closed book. If I don't talk, you're never going to tell me anything.” 

“I'm happy to talk.” 

You tipped your head to one side. “OK, then answer my question. How’d you get those scars?”

To his surprise, you reached out, stroking one finger along the scar that ran across Bradley’s face toward his jaw. “Car accident,” he whispered.

“When?” 

The scars were pink, not yet faded lighter. They were obviously older than the bruises and scratches that adorned the rest of his body, but they weren’t from a decade before as far as you could tell. 

Bradley swallowed hard. 

“Last year.” 

“Was it scary?” you whispered. 

He nodded. “Worst day of my life.” 

You dropped your hand and placed it in his. The two of you looked down at your intertwined fingers. “I’m sorry,” you whispered. “I won’t pry anymore.” Bradley raised his eyes to yours. His were a warm brown that made you feel cozy inside. Like a cabin in the mountains at Christmas, just warmth bottled up. How had you never noticed that before? Every time Bradley looked at you it was patient. Like he would give you all the time in the world. Even if it was at his own cost. 

“What do you dream about?” you asked quietly. 

Bradley let his hand slide out of yours. You watched him consider your question carefully. His fingers fidgeted with the sheets on either side of his legs. “My parents,” he said. 

You waited. Bradley looked lost in thought. It was odd, but he had only been at the house for three weeks and yet a part of you felt like you had known him before. There was something oddly familiar about him. 

“My dad died when I was four. A jet accident.” You sucked in a breath. When your father had worked that was a fear that you grappled with daily. The fact that he might leave one day and never walk back through the front door. It pained you to know that Bradley had experienced that fear first hand. That it plagued him. That it was part of his story. “And my mother died when I was sixteen.” 

He didn’t say it, but you knew. His mother had died in the car crash that gave Bradley those scars. He carried a physical reminder of her death on his person no matter what. Something he couldn’t get rid of. 

Your heart ached for him. 

“Bradley,” you whispered and when his eyes met yours, it went without saying. You were sorry. You wished he hadn’t gone through that. You wished you had a way to make things better for him. You were glad he told you. 

“Sometimes I don’t want to wake up,” he said, “because that means waking up to a world that they’re no longer in. Even if the dream is terrible. Even if I’m back on that road in the dark, her blood on my hands, the ambulance on the way, at least she’s there. At least she’s still alive. But when I wake up? Then I’m just alone again.” 

“You’re not alone,” you said softly. “You have us.” 

Bradley shook his head. “Y/N. Your parents don’t like me. They don’t even want me speaking to you.” He sighed. “I’m alone.” 

You watched in shock as a single tear slid from the corner of his eye down his cheek and without thinking you leaned forward, wrapping your arms around him, pulling him in closely, one hand on the base of his neck, tugging him in tight. 

For a second, Bradley almost struggled against the embrace. How long had it been since someone had held him like that? But you were warm and smelled like vanilla and he found himself sinking into the hug, winding his arms cautiously around your middle as you smoothed your fingers gently over the hair that curled up at the nape of his neck. 

“I’m not going to leave you,” you whispered against the bare skin of his shoulder. Bradley closed his eyes, willing the tears to stop, letting himself get lost in the comfort of your arms. 

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[dead-girl-prolific]

Ticci Toby + Personality Disorders and Mood Disorders

this is based off of @necroromantics post, i felt very inspired to share my thoughts on it, although it took me about 3-4 days to get done i had a lot of fun!

this is mainly about BPD and ASPD(one mention because i don't know a lot about ASPD as a whole) as far as personality disorders go, i know the most about those when it comes to personality disorders. out of mood disorders, to stay relevant to the original post it'll just be the two types of Bipolar disorder.

I chose these three disorders as my topic because they are the most common headcanon for his character(and my headcanons).

PSA:

SOME OF THIS INFORMATION COULD BE OUTDATED, i haven't researched Bipolar in 2-3 years so if anything is wrong i'd like to address the fact that i am NOT a professional! also some/most of this is personal experiences and researches i've done!

now that that's out of the way. let's start rambling!

What is bipolar disorder?

From someone whos lived with both parents struggling with BD (Bipolar Disorder) (my mom shows heavy signs of it, but is not diagnosed, my dad is) it is very much possible i could have it too, but both BPD and BD have a lot in common but are still very different (symptoms). They both have severe mood swings, They share some symptoms, such as depression and impulsive behavior. The main thing that separates them is that BPD is a Personality disorder and Bipolar is a Behavioral Mood Disorder. BD is characterized by periods of extreme highs and lows, known as manic and depressive episodes. BPD affects how individuals perceive and interact with the world around them.

They are very hard to differentiate in a patient and people usually get misdiagnosed, the symptoms are VERY similar which is why it isn’t common to diagnose minors. (it’s not impossible to be diagnosed with both as a minor.) (this is what my doctors have shared with me)

a little tangent- my dad was diagnosed with BD at a very young age (i’d say 12 or/to 16) and it was only diagnosed because he had several…”episodes” (he broke several laws and maybe/probably committed a few felonies.) i don’t know much about my dad’s past, but from what my grandpa and him have told me he’s been bailed out of jail/juvie a lot. He was not medicated because he didn’t like what the medications did to him, so that’s probably why he was so “EXTREME”.

His episodes lasted for a while sometimes 3-4 months or less, but my episodes (i have BPD) can last a few months as well(but around 2-3 months), because of clinical depression(major depressive episodes) which is a huge symptom of BPD, the longest episode i’ve had was maybe two and a half months and it happens a lot about once-twice a year, with no rhyme or reason. i'm looking into getting diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder because i have a lot of symptoms that concern me, but it's possible i was misdiagnosed with BPD(i doubt it because of the symptoms i experience) it is very much possible i could have both, which is why i need to figure it out, it's dangerous for me to not be medicated properly.

Does Toby canonically have bipolar?

If you don’t know enough about something (BD) you shouldn’t create a character with said things (BD) or at least do research before. In my opinion Toby has a personality disorder, although I cannot quite pinpoint which. If i could psycho-analyze (it’s been a while since i’ve taken a full blown look at the entirety of the character.) he most likely struggles with Bipolar but it was misdiagnosed with BPD he also shows some symptoms and traits of someone with ASPD. TECHNICALLY he has canonical BPD through his behavior, but the creator of his character "misdiagnosed" him and gave him Bipolar disorder, but it's totally okay to headcanon him with something else (or something more "fitting") or just projecting, all of it is fine to some extent.

Do you headcanon Toby to have bipolar?(or a personality disorder)

Yes, to put it simply he has potential to be a multi-faceted character, and I know a lot of people like to project onto creepypasta characters in general, as a coping skill. Toby is also “canonically” “Bipolar” i use both of those terms loosely. As someone with (possible) Bipolar and has lived around those with Bipolar I’d be open to writing his character with Bipolar, as an informed writer I would prefer people to at least do research on the subject before making assumptions on how the character would behave/think. Overall if the character’s experience is written well I wouldn't mind reading it. I do not condone misinformation, but i do condone learning about it for a passion project such as writing. As someone who hasn’t struggled with ASPD i don’t necessarily feel comfortable writing it but if i did a decent amount of research for the character and the disorder it could change my mind as long as i get outsider viewpoints.

How to properly write Toby with bipolar?

do not romanticize it not getting treated, as someone who struggles with a disorder not getting treated, it is definitely damaging to my mental and physical health. so writing for a character who isn't being treated for something is something i'm a bit iffy on- but if you do research and don't go overboard, it could end up being really good for awareness.

(i headcanon that he was originally on medication but he didn't take into account the fact that he needs his medications, so he basically fucked himself over and regrets it (subconsciously) after a manic episode of course)

there is an author(s) who does a really good job writing his character with Bipolar/BPD if you are interested in reading their work dm me!/inbox me!

maybe write about how his work relationships would be impacted, and how his friendships would be, his romantic relationships all of it, don't just focus on "ooo i'm mentally ill" it would not only affect him but it would also impact those around him by whether or not they know about his Bipolar disorder and if they know hes having an episode.

it would probably, a few times, get him caught by the law given the fact that people with bipolar are very indecisive and it would mostly be chalked up to him being like "this is wrong, i don't want to do this anymore" to "ARSON!!!" (bad analogy but you get it) his emotions and feelings on the matter of is job would fluctuate all the time, even while he's on the job. it leads him to be erratic and spontaneous. he isn't a very reliable partner, which is why he probably only goes on single missions.

i feel like if he were to be medicated it would be at the expense of Tim's medications since toby can't get his hands on other medications that are used for mood swings and such.

What do manic episodes look like? How would they effect Toby?

"Manic episodes are very intense highs in mood and energy. Despite what people say, real manic episodes are only experienced in people with bipolar disorder" @necroromantics

this is true, as someone with BPD, my "manic" episodes depend on someone that is my FP (favorite person) and when i am not having a "high" of energy i'm usually numb and my "manic" episodes are usually only an hour long or the amount of time that i am with my FP. BPD cannot get Manic.

although there are two branches of Bipolar, Bipolar 1 which is characterized as many manic episodes and less depressive episodes but Bipolar 2 is characterized as many major depressive episodes, that usually last a lot longer than the manic episodes. (this is worded as simply)

"A very real danger of manic episodes is that some people experience co-occurring psychosis alongside their episodes, such as delusions and hallucinations." @necroromantics

another thing Toby struggles with is hallucinations of his deceased sister Lyra.

"These highs can also lead to dangerous acts due to the recklessness and lack of proper judgement on whats safe/smart in that moment. There is also hypomania, which is a lesser, more mild form of mania." @necroromantics

you are mixing up both Bipolars... they are separated (from the studies i've done/researched)

Manic Episodes-

it would all depend on how exactly he feels/ the situation and how the writer decides to portray that. (if the writer is properly informed of course)

What do depressive episodes look like? How would they effect Toby?

 "They typically last longer than manic episodes, usually about 1+ months." @necroromantics

this depends on whether or not it's Bipolar 1 or Bipolar 2, this is the "definition" of a Bipolar 2 Depressive episode. bipolar 2 episodes can occur for longer than a month, that is correct. bipolar 1 has longer manic "highs" than bipolar 2, bipolar 2 barely gets manic "highs" and when they do it's not for very long. (from what my doctors have told me/what i've seen in my dad (he has bipolar 1))

as someone who has seen these symptoms and had them i can assure you they are not fun, especially dealing with them WITHOUT proper medications, although currently i am very "manic" and getting a lot of shit done, kinda like i'm on adderall rn lol.(that's the closest comparison i can make to how I AM feeling.)

"He would probably disappear for a bit, to be left alone, because he doesn't want to be around anybody. He would spend his time sleeping as much as he can, and then the rest of his time doing proxy work, and then going back to sleep." @necroromantics

i wouldn't say sleeping is all he's doing, when i have depressive episodes (which episodes are different for everyone) i tend to go off my diet, make a lot of other regrettable decisions(EX: relapse, forget important stuff, become more "lazy" etc.) that prolong my episode. but sleep can also be affected such as; getting too much sleep or struggling with sleeping (i.e waking up every hour to every few hours).

What are mixed episodes?

 "This can look like feeling super energetic, but also horribly hopeless and depressed, or being on top of the world one minute, and then wanting to off yourself the next. They are very intense, and dangerous. It feels like you're losing your mind, and you can't catch yourself." @necroromantics

i am going to add to this. not only will you be super energetic but you'll want to do so much but have no energy to do it, like lets say you had a great art idea, oc idea, and writing idea, but you would be too unmotivated to do any of it. sometimes you can't pinpoint what to feel/what you're feeling, and that's totally okay! confusing, annoying but still its completely okay.

I'm free to answer with my personal experience, and headcanons and prior knowledge of mental health about any creepypasta characters! DM me or inbox me!

[teletunkie]

Tgcf mall au related words ⬇️

•San Niang sucks on her own hair as a nervous habit.

She probably has other ones but hair sucking is extra pathetic and makes her hair gross and crunchy sometimes and she’d kill herself if Xie Lian ever found out. Xie Lian, in reality, would not mind and would just be concerned about what was upsetting her San Niang.

•Beefleaf are t4t in this au

We’ve theorized that the “switching of fates” concept could be applied here as He Xuan having waited years on a waitlist for her bottom surgery only for swd to place one call and have sqx’s top surgery on that day instead. Just a theory, a game theory.

•San Niang and He Xuan have both been to juvie

San Niang probably for breaking and entering into the Xie family’s home after they fled/were killed followed by threat of a deadly weapon or something. Whatever makes her sentence 6 or so years long

He Xuan was framed by Shi Wudu but the specifics of the crime don’t really matter yknow… just important to note that she gets out when she’s 18

•San Niang is usually “cool and suave” (to Xie Lian, to everyone else she’s a jackass and kind of weird/disturbed) but very desperately wants to be Jiejie’s pet… hence the collar.

Puppy/kitty/fox girl-mode San Niang tends to sleep at the foot of the bed because it’s awesome for everyone’s boner that way… she is very embarrassed about being pathetic and soggy in front of Jiejie initially but it’s okay Xie Lian likes it and thinks it’s very cute

•Qi Rong is a rave-goer who… idk I’d have to come up with a 2006 version of “Night Touring Green Lantern” because that’s crazy but I’ve chosen to represent this with her and her camp exclusively using green glow sticks… yah.

Guzi is a just a lil gal and that’s awesome. Qi Rong probably dresses her in adult tshirts she’s stolen from other RVs….

•Chu Wanning and Mo Ran are in this au and they aren’t R63

Chu Wanning is both He Xuan and Hua Cheng’s…. Social worker? I don’t remember the specific title we gave him but yes he’s helped them get their an apartment and has also very sweetly tried to furnish it for them but he has no eye for aesthetic so it’s just a bunch of mismatched stuff. He Xuan probably doesn’t mind much and is grateful, San Niang is an asshole and is probably less grateful but won’t say anything… she’ll just refurnish the place herself when she’s got the money. Chu Wanning really cares about both of them though and is such a sweetheart everyone say thank you chu wanning 😭 it probably helps a lot that neither girl minds how standoffish and awkward he is… have you met them?

Mo Ran works at the footlocker with Feng Xin and they are PALS who HANG OUT WITH EACHOTHER ON THE WEEKEND/AFTER WORK. Individually they’ll probably give you decent customer service and send you home with a nice pair of shoes, together they will give you the makeover montage experience of a life time. Watch as two geniuses collaborate to have you walking outta there with the freshest shoes one can imagine. Mo Ran is probably a few years older than the Xianle trio and is just a cool guy… our txj tie in is that he’s also a massive sneaker head who gets into shady sneaker dealings…when that man puts his SnapBack on…you better watch yourself 😨 Mu Qing hates him and is very bothered that Feng Xin hangs out with him instead of her at times… the thing is is that they’re dog-coded so ofc they’re best of buds. We also had a conversation about Mu Qing being horrible to Chu Wanning because of course her rude judgemental ass would be but I really don’t remember the specifics… Anyways Mo Ran and Chu Wanning get to experience two very different sides of the tgcf crowd’s nonsense and definitely spill the hot goss over dinner every night

That’s kind of it for now… I spent way too long scrolling through dms to find specific scenarios we’ve discussed but couldn’t find what I was looking for so I’m sleepy tired now…. Feel free to ask questions, though I warn you that the au is at times dead dove and to proceed with some caution if that’s not your jam.

[arcofacatboy]

Remember when, towards the beginning of Unwind, Connor sees a storked baby on someone’s doorstep?

Connor has just escaped the juvies less than 48 hours beforehand. Right now, his main focus is not getting caught by juvies and being unwound as a result. He has Risa and Lev to look out for - not that he knows either of them very well at this point - but his main goal, at this point, is saving his own skin (literally). Connor didn’t object when his classmate, and fellow unwind, Andy Jameson, sacrificed himself for him. It was implied in a Facebook post (all the way back in 2011!) that Connor and Andy were friends - and Andy was ultimately unwound because he saved Connor’s life. Andy is never mentioned again. Connor feels no guilt over Andy entering a divided state for him.

And yet, when Connor sees that baby on the doorstep, he panics.

It’s not like the general public in the Unwind Universe care about storks that much. Starkey was tormented by his status as a stork - everyone else thought he was a joke because of it, and he hated himself for that. Bam feels similarly, and is no stranger to becoming aggressive with those who try to belittle her because she was abandoned as a baby. No adults seemed to want to help them in this regard - they sent Bam and Starkey off to be unwound in the end, because their status as storks and the lack of affection from everyone in their lives came to be too much, and their anger was no longer contained and internalized. Bam lived - but Starkey ultimately died because he, more than anything, wanted to be something other than a stork to be unwound, who wouldn’t amount to anything.

But that’s not the point here, really. Connor doesn’t know Bam or Starkey, let alone that Starkey will die at his only remaining hand. He’s not panicking because someone he knows is a stork, and is suffering because of it. Someone he knew was a stork, and died because not a single person in his neighborhood cared about keeping him alive.

A baby was put on the doorstep of Connor’s parents. They knew why he was there - they had been storked, and they were now legally, and morally, obligated to take in the baby as their own.

But they already had a seven year old and a four year old! Two boys, no less! They had no need for a third son. Surely no one had seen them be storked by whatever irresponsible girl had gotten herself pregnant and given her baby up to good, hardworking people, who shouldn’t have had to bear the burden of her bad decisions.

Surely no one would notice if they just moved the baby to the doorstep of the neighbors. Surely they wouldn’t mind raising a son.

But no one said a damn thing.

Two weeks later, the baby boy showed up on the Lassiter’s doorstep - again.

He was visibly sick, so close to death that only then, out of pity for the infant, did the Lassiter parents take him in. He died in the hospital - most likely alone, having never known a world in which he was wanted. He never knew a world in which he wasn’t passed from porch to porch, doorstep to doorstep, suffering, alone and sick, because of the silence and apathy of everyone around him.

Everyone in the neighborhood came to the baby’s funeral, a funeral that was only held because it would have looked terrible for the Lassiter parents to not hold a funeral for the baby that died on their watch, and was technically their son. And they all cried. They knew they were all responsible for that baby boy dying, so they cried and cried, never admitting guilt, never admitting that one of them could have saved the baby’s life - and they chose not to.

Connor was only seven when the baby died. And yet, at sixteen, the death of the baby still haunts him. And here he is, face to face with the same situation. There is a baby on a doorstep - and the recipient of this precious gift is complaining about having to care for another unwanted child.

He remembers the death of the baby who could have been his neighbor, or his baby brother, if anyone around him had showed an ounce of compassion. A horrible thought strikes him.

This baby could suffer the same fate.

Connor is already so close to death himself. He could be caught by juvies at any moment. If he gets caught, Risa and Lev could die, too.

But, if he doesn’t act now, so could the baby.

So he goes to save her. He confronts the recipient of the storked child with no real plan. He just wants to save the baby. He can’t let another baby die because of human selfishness and apathy.

Risa steps in, making up a lie that she and Connor are the baby’s parents, and tells the recipient that she’ll take her baby back. Risa is furious with Connor, and chews him out. What could make him do a stupid thing like that? The three of them could be caught at any moment, and a screaming, crying baby isn’t going to make escaping persecution any easier.

But Connor couldn’t let Didi die.

Unwind came out in 2007 - it celebrated its seventeenth birthday last November. Unwind is now so old that, if it was a teenager, it couldn’t be unwound itself! So why bring up a well-known scene from the very start of the book.

Like the book itself, it comes back to Neal Shusterman.

@nealshustermanreal - remember what you wrote. While The Schwa Was Here might have been your first critically acclaimed book, Unwind is why you’re here today - why you are anything to anyone. And while all your books (that I’ve read) have complex themes of morality, like the anecdote I just mentioned above, remember that Unwind is what most people who know you, know you from. They know about Baby Lassiter, and they know about baby Didi. They know that silence, apathy, and complacency does more harm than good - they know that because of you.

And yet, here you are. People are dying in droves, and the people that aren’t dying are being injured, having their homes destroyed, being forced to watch their loved ones die, or otherwise being terrorized. Palestinians are dying. And yet, you wait over two months to say anything about it. You wait until your book tour, promoting a graphic novel you wrote about another genocide, is over. You send out an email quietly, an email that only those who are subscribed to your newsletter will see. And your statement seems to be an afterthought, squeezed between a paragraph on how you approach presenting your books on tour, and links to where you can buy a signed copy of your new, shiny graphic novel about genocide. And this is what you say.

Most of your fans, at least on this platform, know of this email. We’ve all seen it. But I want to focus on that last part.

“I’ve taken a stand - by refusing to feed that mentality. The situation is tragic for everyone. We need empathy everywhere.”

You are being selfish. You wish to try to see why both Israel is justified in their slaughtering of Palestinians, and why Palestinians don’t deserve to be slaughtered. This is not a topic in which you can have your cake and eat it, too. Either you support the country who has proven that they will continue to murder Palestinians, destroy every aspect of their culture, and bomb every place that Palestinians cherished and loved, or you denounce that. Your refusal to acknowledge that the citizens of Palestine are the current targets in a genocide, to acknowledge that Israel will call anything or anyone they don’t like “Hamas” to slaughter them without criticism, and to acknowledge that all of this was the result of Israel wanting to destroy Palestine does not paint you as someone who is refusing to feed a black-and-white mentality. It paints you as someone who, because they aren’t being directly affected by this genocide, doesn’t think it’s their problem. That, by definition, is apathy.

This isn’t a perfect comparison by any means, but.

You are leaving Didi to die.

[stabbyfoxandrew]

happy wednesday!!! one scoop of mafia boys please

WIP Wednesday (5/8) | Mafia Front Restaurant AU (Part 155)

Since Jean and Kevin returned, there’s been music coming from the kitchen that Neil vaguely recognizes. He hums along to a song he knows Jean has sung before and places a few cards down. He and Andrew have been neck and neck the whole game, but Neil’s about to win. He’s so close he can taste it.

“Remind me who’s winning,” Andrew says, flicking his fingers at the napkin Neil’s been scribbling points on. He’s got a handful of cards left and looks pissed about it.

“Me. I’ve got 475, you’re at 470.”

“Mm,” Andrew hums and clicks his tongue. “And you said the first to 500 wins.”

“Yep.”

Andrew nods, then smirks before snatching up the entire discard pile— to Neil’s confusion, doubling his hand. The goalie organizes his new cards in a flash and makes four different runs on his side of the table before dropping his very last card down beside the deck, effectively ending the game. Neil’s mouth drops open into a gape that probably makes him look like an imbecile, but he can’t help it. 

“What the fuck? How did—” Neil looks over Andrew’s plays to find that they’re all legal. He’s been beaten. Neil slaps his remaining cards against the table, but Andrew merely props his chin on his hand.

“Oh how the table turns.” Andrew says. “In a circle I mean. Since I was winning at the start.”

Neil bites the inside of his cheek. Damn it, this is worse than losing to Jean.

“Would you like to play Go Fish instead?” Andrew says, the taunt making Neil’s nostrils flare. “I also know Old Maid, if that would be easier for you.”

“Fuck you.” Neil grits out, counting their points and discovering that Andrew hadn’t just beat him. He annihilated him with that last hand, winning with 540 points to Neil’s paltry 490.

“I know a few other games that aren’t for children, but they might be too advanced for you.”

“Shut up.” Neil says. Then, “What other games?”

Andrew shrugs. “Spit, Poker, Egyptian Rat Screw—”

“Wait,” Neil holds up a hand. “What was that last one?”

“Egyptian Rat Screw,” Andrew repeats. “I learned it in juvie.”

Neil blinks. “In juvie? What did you do?”

“None of your business.” Andrew smiles sweetly. “Oh, do you know how to play war? It’s the simplest card game I know. Maybe you could win at that if I hold your hand—”

“I know war,” Neil spits. “Just deal the damn cards. For rummy. I’m winning the next one.”

Andrew gives the tiniest of smiles. “If you say so.”

[da-devilish-devilboys]

Why do eye care. I’ve nevah’ cared before. Why did eye say all dat. Why-

I’m tired. I need a break. Need a distraction, somethin’ strong- ….

No wine. Dat- I ain’t drinkin’ again, not after…

Maybe I’ll pay doc a visit. He did mention somethin’ bout me not havin’ an official medical record on database…

Ugh. How did eye evah’ let things get dis bad? How could I have been so stupid- it’s capochin fer cryin’ out loud!!! He hated my guts when I left, of course he’d-

… eye hate havin’ emotions. I hate people, an’ I hate da bizzyboys, and I ESPECIALLY HATE GODS.

Jus’ a few more days… jus’ a few more days an’ dis’ll all seem like a bad dream, Dee. Pull ya self tagetha’. Yer stronger den dey evah will be. Yer a ruthless villain. Jus’ tough. It. Out. Jus’ like in juvie-, jus’ like pops taught ya… tough it out.

Aight, ta da drafts wit’ ya i don’ wanna look at dis any longer-