#before anyone asks no im not a lawyer but i do have a brain and critical thinking skills

[cantbelieveyouregone]

hey since you gave me a bunch of questions im gonna give YOU a bunch of them so how about 1, 6, 7, 20, 27, 39, 46 >:)

Damn, Lee, making me face the consequences of my actions. Greetings hello hi by the way :D

1) What was your first exposure to Danganronpa?

There's a few different answers to this depending on the level of awareness I had on what DR was. In like 2014-ish I had a friend cosplay as Monokuma, but had literally no idea what DR was at that point despite them enthusiastically recommending it to me. A few years later, another friend cosplayed as Chiaki, equally clueless then. It wasn't until like lockdown that I saw a play through of DR1 come up in my recommended on YouTube and I was just like "I vibe with detective games right now, sure" and then I experienced The Horrors (cautiously affectionate). Though I did vaguely recall Hifumi's death when I saw it for the first time, definitely hadn't seen the whole game before.

6) Do you have a fan character? Tell us about them!

I somehow don't have a DR fan character yet! Mainly because my brain took a different route and just started throwing my own characters into a slightly modified DR-like scenario as a game design challenge for myself. More focused on changing parts of the killing game formula and stuff. :p

7) You get the chance to reassign five characters new talents. Who do you choose, and which new talents do they get?

Gonna do this with the angle of characters keeping their underlying personality, and force myself to choose at least one per game. Leon is now the Ultimate Stage Actor, and yes he still wants to be a rock star - dude never learns his lines, just improvs flawlessly. Taka is now the Ultimate Lawyer, and my boy does NOT cope with the changed rules of killing game trial mayhem, repeatedly explaining that you can't just do the death penalty like that and Monokuma telling him to stop being a spoilsport. Hiyoko is now the Ultimate Opera Singer, partially because it makes it ten times funnier that she likes Ibuki's screamo, and because I find it very funny the idea of her absolutely dragging someone through the mud with words while singing Like That. Gundham Tanaka is now the Ultimate Janitor. No further comment, imagine what you will. Finally, I'm gonna say that Shuichi is now the Ultimate Marksman. He retains a literal eye for detail, the insecurity from rooty-tooty-thing-go-shooty thing going wrong, and a better background for the trial text going as absolutely buckwild as it does while the player still handles it, as well as better meta for not participating in the fundamental trial stuff near the end. You're asking the Ultimate Marksman to not take any shot.

Not all of those are amazing choices but it is 6am and I'm writing this because I can't sleep lmao

20) What is your favorite aspect of Danganronpa?

For as flawed as they are, the characters are what I latched on to and made me keep playing. Don't have much more to say without going on essay-length rants about individual character analyses right now though. But the characters are definitely a big draw.

27) You’re placed in a Killing Game as yourself (who you are now, no perks). How far do you believe you’d get?

Bestie, I am fucked. I am exceedingly killable and the embodiment of the Barely Hanging In There Star. I'd be paranoid, self-isolate as much as possible, and that would give anyone that figures out where I go an easy place to kill me with no witnesses. If I don't die first, I'm either a dishonourable second, or the least memorable of the two chapter three victims (because I'm assuming the others are still Ultimates, so I'm literally Just Some Guy) that the writers just get rid of because I outlived whatever subplot significance I had.

39) Which character do you feel deserves more love?

This is a hard one to answer simply from the fact I'm very much in my own bubble and don't really know the fandom's most beloved blorbos. Gonna do a few different ones for different interpretations of the question. Korekiyo was done dirty by the writing and could've been an interesting character but instead just feels like a waste of a good motive, so he deserved more love by the DR writers. Leon seems very ignored because first killer, obvious killer once the investigation started and his literal name was at the scene, and relatively shallow what we got in just the original game. So he could probably do with more attention to expand on his character. And I just don't want the TERFs to have Tenko, so I'm gonna say Tenko. Tenko would aggressively support trans rights, you can't change my mind. Deserves more love from non-TERFs.

46) What are some of your pregame headcanons?

I'm going to assume this is mainly about the V3 crew and answer based on that. And because I'm not creative, one pre-game headcanon per character.

Rantaro was a hell of a homebody, but got very good at cooking, and enjoyed trying to create foods from different cultures as accurately as possible. Danganronpa had a hell of a time getting ahold of him for the 52nd game.

Kaede was actually incredibly good at maths. Never saw herself as the creative type because of it.

Ryoma was actually a relatively happy-go-lucky guy, before the Character Writing made him depressed. He was a very good singer, too.

Kirumi was one of the popular kids, but like... the Secondary Character of the main popular kids friends group. She let you copy off her homework because she was equally as confident when she was completely wrong as when she was right.

Angie regularly ran DnD campaigns for a small group of people. She was the glue holding the friend group together, and the one who stopped them drifting apart.

Tenko was studying psychology in her free time in a desperate attempt to try and find a way to outwit her ADHD. Mainly she just ended up going down Wikipedia rabbit holes. Very good on the clarinet.

Korekiyo was just a normal guy. Didn't have a sister. Healthy relationship with his existing family. He had a pet dog that he hung out with a lot after school. He never brushed his hair.

Miu was actually a completely average student, the kind of person you'd never happen to really meet unless someone introduced you. But by God she was passionate about writing. Not that she ever told anyone.

Gonta was very much a gym bro. Neglected a lot of his studies to get back on the grind, but was still quite naturally smart. He paid no mind to people wondering how a teenager like him was jacked as fuck.

Kokichi was very much your archetypical emo kid. Got very good at pretending everything was fine for the sake of not getting bothered by people, and tried to blend into the background. He wanted to hack the school website for fun but couldn't be bothered to figure it out.

Kaito was the guy to go to if you needed to pretend you had a boyfriend for an event. He'd do it for a day's lunch money. Solid C+ student in everything but art, where he was a B+ student.

Keebo, I have always imagined as a regular guy who was augmented into a cyborg masquerading as a robot. Aka, not actually even a robot, but Danganronpa fucked him up big time for their purposes. He was a very sporty kid, but didn't like people drawing attention to it. He just had a lot of energy.

Tsumugi... I find it hard to do a headcanon for her because I can't even agree with myself whether she's actually a teenager or an adult cosplaying as one. But she had a small close knit group of friends that she'd spend at least one weekend a month with.

Maki was really looking forward to studying literature in her higher education. But then someone made her apply to Danganronpa on a dare, and she did it to shut them up, intentionally making herself sound as boring as possible to reduce the chance she got picked. Unfortunately, Team Danganronpa took it as a challenge.

Himiko was the one who you'd hear about doing some wild shit, but then you'd meet her in person and the vibe can only be described as the gif of SpongeBob sitting in a coffee shop looking sad. You could never be sure if the things you heard were rumours or true.

Shuichi was the disruptive one with anger issues. He'd aggressively disagree with the teacher's opinion just because he could and he was bored. The only exception was in Geography. It was the one subject that for some reason calmed him down.

Hope those answers were alright! I'd link to the ask game but I'm on mobile and can't be bothered right now, might edit to add it later though lmao

[hungeringheart]

ok so it actually totally makes sense for people to be troll Jewish.

actually i think huss fucked up, in one major way, by attempting to cast kankri (troll jesus) as victimized by a religiously hostile troll society with a monarch, a messianic religion involving an incomprehensible heavenly host (which because of gamzee, scratch, and caliborn fucking with it became the ICP cult), and a caste system involving rulers in contact with deity. that's, like, number one do not do this if you don't want people to be like oh! in the troll context, the government is an allegory for and alt history of romanized judea

I think he was maybe going for "the main guys are the rome and some of the subject trolls in the empire are troll jewish", because I guess the empress stepped in because the clabbis got upset or whatever. but he kind of fumbled the necessary politics and religion and made the troll Sanhedrin (purples) and troll Imperial lineage (fuchsias) too damn related for that because he didnt know either

(in the troll case the deity is most probably all the horrorterrors individually or a collectivized abstraction of all of them, since some framework had to exist for scratch to put glbgolyb there successfully and her title is Emissary. anyway moving on)

and like, the castes include such fun and relatable persons as priests (purples), hereditary lawyers (teals et al, mirroring talmudic rabbinical families) and various less religiously encoded specialists (in real life there were families that had like weird specific temple lore and thus title to specific temple jobs. theres talmud era temple baker drama you can google im not kidding). not very roman to restrict that in that specific way now is it :")

all signs point to there having been a state religion and it having been a polytheisticish troll second temple judaism, baybee! that really is kind of what it would look like if we (jews) were bees circa the time of jc and the boys, as written by just some not Jewish guy with a webcomic.

thinking about all this irreversibly rotted my brain when I was about 12 years old and informs my headcanons to this day, but let's not worry about that

anyway yeah everyone who's anyone under the dominant culture circa Meenah and co's time is almost definitely troll Jewish at least ethnically, and hilariously enough Andy Huss intended this in no way whatsoever. this is actually really funny and sort of bad of him if you squint, but whaddahell else are cool aus for? unintentional representation (as the... state religion of a completely insane space civilization of possible brood parasites) can still turn into decade long hyperfixations dont worry about it :] i have a beautiful and strong homestuck au about it yes thank you for asking

anyway. again sorry

it seems like the thing with Stelsa, almost definitely Galekh, and earlier, Terezi, is that they're troll Jewish, but that's no longer the dominant culture among Alternian trolls like it was when the Condesce (also troll Jewish, at least by birth) was hanging out with her internet friends. so now it's noteworthy, where it wasn't before.

Damara (i know, i know) is a troll weeaboo, which in her extremely screwed up case probably means she's a convert to troll Shinto from troll Christianity (depending on the power of the Signless' cult, which is debatable -- but weirdly in homestuck the christianity-like thing seems to be the clurch clown church, which allegedly evolved among the clabbinate clown rabbinate or whatever and raises questions too big for one post).

good luck and lord speed you soldier (on your quest to follow the jewish fandom's footsteps that we trod before you, and figure out what the fuck all of these implications add up to or mean to you)

so like. what's up w troll judaism. how does that work how is stelsa troll jewish with the whole no jesus thing and the only religious figure in homestuck (other than clown nonsense is the signless being jesus w no god. man is homestuck awful at religious parallels and commentary lol

[yankeeclapdoctor]

Once again it is time for some 2011-2014 era Loki discourse because I have been confronted with.....um...a certain Hot Take, and I must respond publicly because I have been blocked from responding in DMs and I cannot just let this go because my brain is screaming. So here we go...uh...proceed at your own risk

cw for mentions of (fictional) g*nocide

First message: “For the record, Loki going insane actually does excuse him trying to destroy Jotunheim. It doesn’t JUSTIFY it, but it does EXCUSE it. Being unable to control/understand your actions excuses them, no matter how horrible they are. In the court of law, Loki would have been rehabilitated, not punished.”

Second message: “For the record, Loki going insane actually does excuse him trying to destroy Jotunheim. It doesn’t justify it, but it does excuse it (big difference). Being unable to control/understand your actions absolves you from blame, no matter how horrible they are or the consequences. Loki needed to be rehabilitated, not punished. Nothing can justify g*nocide. It is inherently wrong in and of itself. But he is excused by virtue of not having known any better at the time.”

For the record, I do not know this person who has messaged me and, as I say above the read more, I cannot respond to them privately both because they have restricted their message settings to only blogs they follow and also they seem to have blocked me after sending these messages.

let’s Get Into It, shall we!

Okay……so……….I might conditionally agree with you, if you were talking about Loki attacking Earth—when he does that, he is under the influence/control of Thanos and of the Mind Gem, and therefore he is not fully in control of his actions when he attacks New York, so I wouldn’t say he should be penalized as though he were.

What I’m getting from you saying there’s a “big difference” between an “excuse” and a ‘justification’ for someone’s actions is that there’s a difference between being able to point to a reason for someone’s actions versus saying that someone’s actions are correct. And yeah, of course there is. But also, again, just because there is a reason for someone’s actions, mental health related or otherwise, does not mean that the effect of their actions can/should be ignored, or that the person can be entirely absolved from blame unless they are under complete duress. If you’re referring to the difference between justification and excuse in law…..well if Loki were to be tried in a court of law on Earth for his crimes in Avengers, I guess he would have grounds for an automatism or duress defense because of the mind control, which would hopefully get him sent to a psych facility for rehabilitation instead of a straight up prison…but I don’t know how exactly the judicial system would factor in magic or how they could prove Thanos’ involvement when they didn’t know about him at the time and the only one who knew of him was Loki and he probably wouldn’t be considered a credible witness…and also he wasn’t tried on Earth and again I don’t know if they have psych facilities on Asgard and based on his hearing in Thor 2 I really don’t think their criminal law system is the same as it is on Earth. I certainly didn’t see a jury of his peers, just Odin being a dick.

But since you’re talking about Jotunheim, that’s a whole different situation/mental state he was in. Yes, his messed up emotional state is a reason for his actions, but I believe that he does know better, and even if he didn’t, “not knowing any better” Does Not erase the harm that someone’s actions cause (especially when they are as bad as g*nocide!). It may explain why the actions occurred, but the existence of an explanation really does not always justify complete absolution, and in Loki’s case with Jotunheim, I don’t think it does, because I don’t think there’s any evidence that he was ‘insane’ in a way that prevented him from understanding the gravity of or controlling his decisions, and the movie (through Thor) ultimately condemns the hateful ideology upon which his decision was based (that Frost Giants are monsters and deserve to die). I can call his behavior ‘insane’ or ‘unhinged’ or ‘mad’ (to borrow Thor’s term for it), but that doesn’t mean that I think he was truly mentally incapacitated. He’s a dramatic bitch and (in my interpretation) he had years of weird resentment and insecurities building up before Thor’s banishment and the adoption revelation happened to catalyze his wacky behavior in Thor 1.

In terms of real life human legal terms and systems (if those are even valid to apply here, which, for the record, I don’t think they are because this is a fantasy world with an entirely different and unknown legal system), I don’t think he falls under the requirements for an “excuse” defense. I don’t think he’s shown as ‘going insane’ to the point where he wasn’t able to control or understand his actions. There isn’t ever a moment in the movie like in Avengers when Thor is like “look around you. do you think this madness will end with your rule” and he looks genuinely startled and upset by his actions for a second—that moment in Avengers makes it clear to me that he’s being influenced/controlled, and also that he’s capable of recognizing the harm he causes when confronted with it. But in Thor 1, he stands by his choices until the end, and even after that, he doesn’t express remorse or a sense of newfound understanding that what he has done is wrong or was out of his control, even when he is told by Thor and Odin (and Frigga, in Thor 2) that what he has done is wrong. His anger is driving him, not ‘insanity.’ He knew the meaning of his choice to destroy Jotunheim with the Bifrost: it would “destroy that race of monsters” (his words) that he wants nothing to do with, and it would “prove to [Odin] that [he] is a worthy son.” When Thor says to him, “you can’t kill an entire race,” Loki responds, “why not?” and reminds Thor that he was ready to kill them all earlier, and that they have been taught their entire lives that they are monsters and not deserving of mercy or respect. He knows that it is g*nocide, and he chooses to do it because he sees it as the justifiable and correct solution to his own and to Asgard’s problems, and because it is a way to express his anger—here, he is working based on hateful ideology he was taught in conjunction with his own grief and anger. His feelings of betrayal and self-hatred and anger lead him to make this decision, not any demonstrable mental disorder; in desperately trying to retake control of his life and show to himself and to his family that he belongs and is “worthy,” he makes a choice, does not express remorse for it afterwards, and at no point is shown to be acting out of character/not in control of himself and his actions. Thus, he should be blamed and take responsibility for the damage he caused. A dramatic anger and grief response would not qualify as an excuse or justification for a crime, nor does it necessarily indicate mental illness…definitely not on Earth, and I highly doubt on Asgard (I don’t think that it would make sense to apply any diagnosis based on human psychological science to his mental state, seeing as he’s not human. Or Asgardian. I don’t know the state of psychological science on Jotunheim, but if you do know, feel free to enlighten me).

I can see and understand his reasoning/explanation/the “excuse” behind the action, but that doesn’t mean that I can (and the movie doesn’t) endorse it or say that it can be entirely “excused,” because as you say, “nothing can justify g*nocide.” Again, since he’s a fictional alien, I don’t think it’s relevant or productive to actually apply our labels or frameworks of thinking about mental illness to him. In the real human world, his emotional meltdown in Thor 1 might be grounds to say that he is mentally ill, but because he never expresses remorse for trying to destroy Jotunheim afterwards, that to me emphasizes that the choice was not entirely a result of his messed up mental/emotional state, but a combination of that and a logical (albeit morally terrible) line of thinking. The moment at the beginning of Thor 2 when he has his hearing about attacking Earth solidifies this interpretation even more to me, because he makes it clear that his actions (which in this case were influenced by Thanos/the Mind Gem) were a result of what he’s been told his entire life: “that [he] was born to be a king.” While he isn’t referring to his attempt to destroy Jotunheim there, it does indicate that he holds the belief on his own, even when not mind controlled, that atrocious actions can be excused because of his interpretation of his socialization. I agree that if he were not in control or didn’t fully grasp the meaning and magnitude of his actions that he could be ‘excused’ a bit, but I disagree that it would ‘absolve’ him entirely. It doesn’t change the fact that the realm was almost obliterated. Nothing he ever says/does/emotes communicates that he didn’t know or didn’t realize what he was doing when he tried to destroy Jotunheim, he is only upset over having failed (“I could have done it, Father. I could have done it. For you. For all of us” he says); he never expresses remorse for his attempt to destroy it, and this does not seem to be because he is prevented from seeing that what he did is morally wrong—again, instead, he seems to think that his morally reprehensible actions can be justified by his motivations. His judgement was determined by anger, but being emotionally driven doesn’t mean one is ‘insane.’ Again, I agree that he “needed to be rehabilitated,” because he is a very very unstable person who needs to learn how to process his feelings better, but we can also see throughout all of the movies that he has trouble accepting and admitting the consequences of his bad choices, even though he tends to know when his actions are bad (either because he just knows and is being a bastard and/or because Thor tells him). That’s one of his major personality flaws. His first instinct is usually to get defensive and angry and try to explain away his actions because of his trauma, rather than empathize and try to acknowledge and apologize for what he has done. He needs to understand that he can’t just make horrific choices and then “excuse” them afterwards, no matter how distressed or traumatized he was at the time—especially when the choice is g*nocide that he was not mind controlled into attempting. Therapy could absolutely do this for him, and probably would be most effective even without a formal diagnosis of anything, because it could help him understand how his personality affects and is responsible for a lot of bad behaviors. But a dickish and highly emotional personality does not equal ‘insanity.’

In summation: he’s not insane in Thor 1. He’s acting based on discernible emotionally and ideologically informed logic, even though that logic is morally reprehensible. Also I think it is dangerous to say that if he were insane something like g*nocide could be excused just because it can be explained by supposed insanity—it does not erase that it happened, and that it is terrible, and should be atoned for. Maybe in the real life human American legal system he could go for some sort of excuse defense, but I don’t think it would hold up in court. Just because he would very much benefit from therapy does not mean that he went ‘insane’ and that such ‘insanity’ drove him to attempt g*nocide; his distressed mental/emotional state does mean that he should receive rehabilitating treatment, but a need for rehabilitation does not mean that he is also not deserving of blame for the consequences of his actions, and for making the decision to commit an atrocity in the first place.

In conclusion: I love Loki very very much. I do not blame him for his space meth-fueled actions in Avengers (2012). I DO blame him for choosing to try to commit g*nocide when he could have chosen not to do so in Thor (2011). And yet I still love him, because I am capable of both loving a fictional character AND recognizing that he is a bit of a war criminal.

[a1li-ens]

hiii ^-^ what's your favorite slow damage route been so far? Also, what song is stuck in ur head and... If you were an ice cream flavor, what kind would you be?

THESE R FUN QUESTIONS im going to answer the slow damage one last because i just realized i typed half an essay.

⭐song in my head rn: honestly my neighbor is playing deafening shitty edm or something while washing his car so my brain only has room for one song at a time BUT before that was ningen mitai ne by kitani tatsuya!! go listen to it i have listened at least 500 times in 6 months.

⭐ice cream flavor - THIS IS HARD i have little concept of the self . maybe the pink/blue bubblegum flavor?? i am also pink and blue and focus on colour before anything else such as taste. I like eating pistachio and strawberry though but they are all nice!!

⭐SLOW DAMAGE QUESTION UNDER BREAK I WROTE TOO MUCH!!! has spoilers !!

⭐fav route in slow damage: DEFINITELY FUJIEDA!! I LOVE HIM SO MUCH HIS ROUTE IS SO BEAUTIFUL 😭 it's easily the best one from a plot standpoint as well like probably my fav vn route in general, I am going to avoid crying about literally the whole plot in this ask but the whole setup with the cardboard box and the other routes info!!! SO COOL AND AMAZING!!

and OBVIOUSLY I am crushed and scrunched up from the towa backstory stuff in his route WHO WOULDNT BE!!! THEY ARE SO PERFECT FOR EACHOTHER ｡⁠:ﾟ⁠(⁠;⁠´⁠∩⁠`⁠;⁠)ﾟ⁠:⁠｡ (I am emotional to the point I am struggling to be coherent) just two broken dudes living together as a married couple but they don't even think they are dating,……. Oh my god like legitimately they will be engaged before they are boyfriends. I think their wedding cake should have two bunnies on top tears are welling up in my eyes I might draw this today.

ANYWAY it's perfect and beautiful. Even I admit Fuji looks so fugly as a lawyer. And I hate that dumb penis CG quota filling out of character SA scene well at least towa liked it even if I don't. BUT tbh the contrast between 3/10 ugly lawyer Fuji and 10/10 nice looking Fuji makes him better actually ❤️ but he is so well written even if he stayed ugly I would love him I am just lucky he is cute LMFAOO 🥰

ALSO HELPP THE BEACH SCENE … HAVE U EVER SEEN ANYTHING MORE BEAUTIFUL AND MOVING IN YOUR LIFE ….. THEY ARE BOTH FINALLY SO HAPPY!!! WHEN THE DRAMA CD IS OUT…IT WILL BE. TRULY OVER FOR ME….. IF ANYONE FINDS A RIP AFTER ITS RELEASE PLS SEND IT EVEN WITHOUT ENGLISH…I LOVE THE ARTBOOK SIDESTORY TOO... MALEWIFE TOWA IS CUTE

I WANTED TO LOOK AT THIS AGAIN.. SO U CAN TOO!

OH YEAH .. I RLY LIKE FUJI BAD END AS WELL.. my fav out of those as well . besides towa looking great with his big smiley face it was really fun and thrilling in a scary way!!! u know those pics of like a mob boss sitting on a chair doing talking about crimes with a trophy wife next to them. thats what i think would be happening after this with fuji maybe ill draw that. (tangentially i was hoping madarames BE would have a cg like that with towa im a bit disappointed it didnt ! )

my next fav route was Reis!! i feel like ive written too much but do yall want other route thoughts. i like this game so much 🥺

[mlm-mod-taka]

Good evening, you can see Makoto and Byakuya with a reader that he was in an abusive relationship and they even got mistreated.<3

ABUSED S/O • makoto, byakuya x gn reader

here you go, anon! i made these alot less long than my usual works, so these could apply to any kind of abuse and not just one type, im sorry if its too short. i myself have gone through abuse, so i hope you're doing okay. please enjoy these!

tws/cws: mentions of abuse & the return of your abusers.

|| -> mod taka <3

would help you process the pain that the abuse caused you. some coping mechanisms refuse you from acknowledging the trauma that happened because of it, and he wants you to know what was going on so you can start to heal.

hes always there for you when you're remembering all the things you went through, and you're feeling terrible for it. makoto is always waiting for you, ready to comfort you.

while he does panic quite easily, he tries his best to keep his brain in the best mindset. you're the one that needed comfort, not him.

if anyone other than you tried make a joke about your experience, he'd respectfully say that they probably shouldn't do that without you directly telling them that its okay. and even then, he'd still be very on the fence with it.

if your abusers ever happen to look for you, and ask him about you, he'll do everything he can to lead you away from them until they leave, and tell you after they go away to save yourself the stress.

will generally just try to help you the best he can. while hes not a professional, he'll do everything from a boyfriends postition. makoto really does want you to heal and get better.

hes furious when he hears that someone dares to treat you so horribly. you're so much better than the others in the eyes, how could someone be so mindless that they disagree?

hires a therapist that specializes in cases like yours. he pays for everything needed, and respects your privacy, to the surprise of others. doesn't force you to tell him, he'd rather not have you re-live your trauma just to tell him.

will conduct an entire investigation. hires so many lawyers, gets private investigators, gets kyoko and shuichi on board so they can look over and confirm everything since they've worked in the field already.

once they collect all the information, they'll file charges for emotional/mental/physical abuse with your abusers. of course, they wouldn't do this without your consent.

doesn't really know how to comfort you when you're having flashbacks with the things you went through before, but he will put on your favorite show in hopes that it would help a little.

uses his money and influence to help you deal with your experiences, but if you just want him to be there for you, then he can certainly do that, even if hes a little stiff while doing so. you can tell he loves you, and hes really trying.

[itsmeevie01]

A Moment in Time

ok, so. a little disclaimer before we get into the good stuff. Cannon is in no way whatsoever being followed in this. honestly? im not even sure that i REMEBER cannon at this point. that said, cannon is non applicable. at. all. 

moving on. YES, i WILL finish B!DBWM stuff eventually. but uh...not today. i just mentally cant. it. will. come. when. my. brain. can. handle. the. world. that. i. had. tailored. for. it. 

ALSO this is going to be kinda sporatic, but the goal (not end all be all but) is to have this wrapped in a pretty little package and finished (at least on my end) by the end of february.

and now....onto the stuff you came here for!

---

Marinette was running late to school when she met him. She ran into the boy and stumbled back, flailing to catch herself before she fell. He looked down at her owlishly, before looking around. By the time he had returned his gaze to her, the teen had pulled herself back together. He smiled and nodded at her, before moving to go around. When Marinette had pulled herself together enough to call a short “sorry!”, He was already gone.

That was three weeks ago. Now, she was looking at a picture of their interaction, where it blared on the front page of the newspaper that Jagged had sent her. When Marinette had received the package, she had been confused. Jagged wasn’t supposed to send her another demo for a few weeks. They were still working on singles. When she had opened the box and found five different American publications with her on their front page, the teen designer had shrieked. With shaking hands, she picked up the top one and studied the headline.

HAS BRUCE WAYNE’S WARD FOUND PARISIAN LOVE?

The bold text was catching, sure, but Marinette was caught on WHO it was placing her with. Someone she had never met. The second one had a picture of her next to Jagged at an event, and a picture of the boy next to a blonde girl. The headline wasn’t much better than the first.

TIMELINE OF THE RELATIONSHIP BETWEEN MDC AND THE HEIR TO WAYNE INERPRISES.

The teen snorted. She was starting to see the pattern. Putting the tabloid down the girl moved onto the next one. This one had, once again, a zoomed in picture of the five second interaction between her and a stranger. The title, however, was different than the first two.

ALL OF BRUCE WAYNE’S CHILDREN, AND THE INSIDE SCOOP ON HIS NEWEST DAUGHTER

She squinted, laughter bubbling up a little as she observed the piece of fiction. Whoever the Bruce Wayne was, Marinette hopped that he was able to combat this, because she had no intention of letting this fly.

Tim and Bruce were staring at the pile of papers in mild shock. When Jared had reached out to them in mild panic, they had been confused. His panic had been explained when the rocker had arrived carrying a stack of tabloid literature a foot thick. When he had thunk’d the stack down on Bruce’s desk, the businessman’s shock had been more than notable. When Tim had picked up the first few publications the initial look on his face was mirth, but it quickly morphed into shock, then panic. When he handed the top item to Bruce, the older man frowned. When the second pamphlet made its way to his hands, Bruce paused. His next move was to call the Wayne family lawyers. when he turned back to his old friend, all the faces in the room told the same grim tale of what was to come.

When Tim found out that it was Jared’s niece that he had accidentally run into in the brief moment in Paris, he wasn’t sure whether he should be more stressed by it, or if it was by pure luck. When Bruce’s friend went on to explain that the girl would probably already suing the reports and papers that had published the rumor, the young CEO was impressed. To have a lawyer on hand like that was…surprising, considering that she couldn’t be older than 18.

When he asked the rocker if he thought the girl would let anyone go after her, he laughed. Then, Jared Stone explained that the girl was known in Paris for squishing rumors with surprising efficiency.

That evening, Bruce invited his childhood friend home for dinner, and the star spent the evening telling stories of their capers as children, with Alfred grimacing in agreement with the stories. Partway through dinner, Jared’s phone went off. While the rest of the family tensed, glancing to Alfred, their guest frowned at his phone before rushing to answering. “Hey Little Rocker! How’s Pari- oh. So, Penny was more efficient then I thought she’d be. I- yes I figured that you may want to hear. Do- No! Marinette, what!” here, the man paused, his head cocked to the side, his eyes screwed up in thought. “No luv! Sue them within an inch of their lives! You more then have that right.” Here, the rocker paused before he laughed. “Tell that buzzing bee of yours that she’s a good friend. Alright, Miss Mari. I’ll ring you when I’m back on that side of the Atlantic.” He laughed again, “See you soon, Marinette.” The table stayed quiet, waiting for the man to give an indication on the status of the conversation. “Well, Brucie, expect to hear from my niece in the next few day, or at least, her team of lawyers.” the Wayne patriarch blinked before nodding in hidden surprise.

When the family was talking during patrol that evening, Tim grumbled. The 18-year-old was still taken aback that the press had even seen the momentary interaction almost a month ago. As his brothers listened in, many of them started to make fun of the teen. When Jason tuned in, he dropped in the middle of tale. At his confusion, Tim sighed and started over, again. While the family was laughing over his run-in with the press, the former Robin shook his head and silenced his family. He had a feeling he wouldn’t live this one down for a while.

Originally, Jason had found Tim’s predicament hilarious. Of course, the kid had to have the worst run-ins with the press. Then, he had picked up one of the many tabloids with the story. When he had seen the pictures, all mirth left the resurrected vigilante. The noirette that was looking up at him from the page? Yeah. He knew her. Better than anyone else, actually. With shaking hands, the young man paged to the story. What he found was…illuminating. So. She had been adopted. In France. In Paris. After forcing his lungs to draw breath, Jason pulled out his phone. He had arrangements to make.

The day after Jagged had sent her the gossip rags that were considered journalism, Marinette strode into school with a scowl so ingrained in in her features that anyone who didn’t know her would think the expression was permanent. When she stalked into the Lycée classroom, Chloé grinned at her from where she had settled in the front row. Marinette nodded at her friend as she slid in next to her. Lila came skipping in moments later, a cruel smile playing on her lips, before falling when she saw the bone quaking scowl resting on her nemesis’ face. “oh Marinette! Did something happen? Did…did you anger your parents? Did they find out about all those men?” the other girl huffed before turning to her. Lila froze as she was met with the iciest glare that she had seen in years.

“oh Lila. That’s so cute. It almost sounds like you still think that your little stories affect me at all. That’s…adorable.” The Italian girl shrunk under the younger girl’s stare. Suddenly, she understood why people had been warning her to leave the teen alone. this girl, she was brutal. “lucky for you, you’re not the one I’m after, this time. My lawyers have bigger fish to fry.” The newer addition to the classroom gulped, her throat suddenly very dry. It occurred to her that maybe Marinette had let her take control of the class. After all, if they turn that easily, why would she want them for friends. The smaller girl nodded as she watched the realization run over Lila’s face. Raising her eyebrows, the Eurasian girl motioned her classmate along, sending a cruel smile after her.

Chloé waited until the little liar was gone before giggling at her friend’s reaction to the girl who had become their daily annoyance. “I’m guessing you saw what’s been running in the American news? I thought it wouldn’t take long for you to respond. Are a plethora of lawsuits on the way?” Marinette giggled slightly as her severe demander giving way to the internal glee that was consuming the teen over the sheer chaos that was to come.

When Jason touched down in Paris, he tensed. The atmosphere in the city was less carefree than he remembered. There was an air that actually reminded him of Gotham. Tense. Waiting or the other shoe to drop. The expectation that your day was going to go wrong set from the moment one woke up. Pulling out his phone, the Gotamite looked up the address to the bakery that he had found when digging online. If today went the way he was hoping it would, the bakery would be his only stop for the day. Of course, he didn’t count on Gina.

When she called him over from where she was standing by her bike, Jason had to smile. The woman was part of the reason that he wasn’t still camping out in Gotham, waiting to kill a certain billionaire. Once the spry biker had latched onto his arm, the young man knew that his mission would have to wait just a bit. After all, he owed Gina almost everything he had.

[quietmyfearswith]

new year’s day ; andy barber x fem!reader

status — completed oneshot

word count — 3,960 words

warnings — swearing, mentions of active sex life, SMUT, degradation, sir kink, choking, oral smut (receiving), fingering, unprotected penetrative sex (pls use protection), slapping, name calling, drinking champagne off of one’s body, fluff at the end?? porn without plot lol

pairing — andy barber x fem!reader

a/n — HAPPY NEW YEAR! im still high on my andy feels so yeah,, lmk what yoou think!

masterlist

“Fuckin’ hell my eyes hurt,” Y/N groaned out as she rubbed her palms on her eyelids, as if she was massaging the stress away. Rose could only chuckle at her friend’s distress, “Well I did warn you about how you shouldn't have gone to work today; you deserve to take a break once in a while you know?”

Cracking her knuckles once she was done rubbing her eyes, Y/N retorted, “Well it’s not like I had any New Year’s Eve plans so I decided why not go to work?” As she continued to torment her eyes with the light emitted from her desktop. Being her only real friend at the workplace, Rose took it as a responsibility to look after her; for she knew how she wasn’t really close with her family and her other closest friends were on the different side of the country. “Hey, I invited you to that party me and Agnes are going to!”

Tearing her straining eyes away from the screen, Y/N gave the brunette a pointed look, “You mean to say you invited me to party where I don’t know anyone but you and your girlfriend; which definitely guarantees that you’ll both leave me alone so you can fuck.”

Rose didn’t find it in herself to deny her allegation or defend her and her girlfriend’s active sex life; instead she could only give her a sheepish look as she joked, “Guess you’ve been spending too much time with Mr. Barber since you’re incredible at drawing conclusions and noticing patterns huh?” Seeing how much time she had spent with the mentioned lawyer over the past year, Y/N couldn’t help but nod and agree with her.

The soft chime of Rose's Favorite song rang and a cocky, “See! Can’t even wait an hour before you two get to be together,” was quickly being hushed by her friend. “Okay you have a point, we have a high sex drive — but can you blame us? And I need to leave early, stupid bitch burnt herself as she was baking.”

Chuckling without tearing her eyes away from the documents in front of her, Y/N greeted, “Yeah, yeah; don’t need to rub it in. Happy New Year’s Eve, babe.” Before heading to Mr. Barber’s office to sweetly ask to leave early, Rose went to where Y/N was seated and let their cheeks touch as their way of bidding adieu.

Andy was more than generous to allow Rose to leave the office early, “Go ahead and enjoy, you deserve it for being one of the few ones who chose to come in today,” He told her smiling form. Once she left his office, he loosened his tie and undid the top button of his button down shirt and let out a loud groan. Usually, this time last year he would be rushing to go home — if ever his work demanded his presence — in order to celebrate the New Year’s with his family. But now as he mourns the family he once had and lost it as his son was brutally killed by his ex-wife that had gone insane in disbelieving her son’s innocence was now serving prison for her crimes, he had nowhere to be.

After a couple of hours filled with silence and burying his head with paperwork, Andy noticed how there was a soft, melodious hymn coming from the other side of the office. The lawyer wasn’t necessarily alarmed, but he was curious about who was left working since there had only been 7 other people who decided to come in to work today; and to his knowledge they should have left by now.

He decided to check out who was left — but it really was an excuse to stretch his long, lean legs as he felt them cramping up a bit from being seated for too long — and was surprised to see the most diligent employee he’s ever met in his years of practicing law, “Ms. Y/N, what are you still doing here?”

Hearing his deep voice snapped her out of her concentration; seeing her boss in his less than organized state had her taken aback, “Oh Mr. Barber, I’m just doing some work on the Richards case.” Looking at the watch on his left wrist, he took note how it was a mere 15 minutes before the new year dawned on them. “No plans for the new year then?”

Deciding to test the waters she cracked a joke, “Are you talking about the holiday or the actual year? Because I have no plans for both.”Covering up her remark with a nervous chuckle, she was glad to see the older man wrinkle his eyes as he laughed out loud, “Well that makes the two of us; why don’t we grab a drink in my office?”

Eyes going wide and gasping silently, Y/N was pleasantly surprised at his offer but nevertheless nodded in agreement. Quickly shutting off her desktop, she moved out of her chair and decided to leave her footwear and floral kimono by her desk as she somewhat felt restricted by the light cloth. As she entered his post, she settled herself on the gray sofa he had placed near the office’s wall. Grabbing a bottle of champagne and a couple of glasses, Andy sat beside her then poured them a drink.

“Never pegged you as a champagne guy, Mr. Barber,” She thanked him as he handed her a glass which she took a sip of; letting out a small moan of appreciation at the taste, the  sound causing Andy to cross his right leg on top of the left in an effort to conceal his erection. “Please, call me Andy,” He cleared his throat as he took a sip of the liquor, “And whiskey and bourbon are my usual choices of poison; but since it’s the New Year, figured this was more appropriate.”

Y/N surprised the man beside her by drinking all of the champagne in one go and placed the now empty glass on the coffee table in front of them before turning to his gobsmacked expression and giggled, “Sorry, really need that one.” With his hooded eyes watching her intently, he drank some of his before answering, “Don’t be Y/N, it was quite a show.”

She could feel her wetness dampen the panties she wore with how good her name sounded as it left his lips, “Don’t think I ever heard you call me by my first name before.” Worried he crossed the line he was quick to fumble out an apology; but quickly stopped as he felt her hand on his thigh, “It’s okay, I’m not mad or anything. I really like it, actually,” She trailed off once she noticed how he seemed to have let out a quiet, but aroused purr. Tilting her head to the side with an amused expression plastered on her face, “You alright, Andy?”

Years of practicing law and appearing in courtrooms taught him not to lose composure; but with a simple touch and mention of his name had Andy forgetting how to remain calm and collected. But can you fucking blame him when the girl who walks around with so much grace and confidence — who also happens to be the subject of his filthy fantasies — is so close to him that he can almost feel her warmth piercing through his long-sleeved shirt. In that moment, he wasn’t sure if it was a wise or dumb decision to discard his suit jacket, but as their arms touched and he felt a surge of electricity run through his veins, he thought of himself as a fucking genius.

“I am, yeah,” Deciding to test the waters, he grabbed her hand that rested on her thigh and intertwined their fingers together; when she made no attempts at removing her hand from his he smirked, “Correct me if I’m wrong, but something tells me you want more than just this champagne I offered.”

Feeling her inhibitions disappear, she gave him a smirk of her own as she untangled her hands from his, “Well, I do want some more champagne,” Her finger was now tracing his lips as she moved to sit closer until she was now straddling his lap, “Maybe taste it from your lips?”

Silently, Andy brought the glass to his lips and downed the remaining sparkling drink; his free hand settled itself on the back of her neck, pulling her close to him until her lips touched his. As he bit her bottom lip, she opened her mouth and moaned out loud as she felt the alcoholic beverage enter her mouth. Both her hands caressed his bearded cheek as she drank up every last drop that he offered her. Groaning out loud when his mouth was now devoid of the drink, he let his tongue enter her mouth and asserted his dominance; something she willingly conceded to him. His hand on her neck traveled lower and rested on her bum, squeezing the soft flesh which emitted more moans from her.

“Been dreaming about this for so long,” His staff silently, mindlessly let out as she kissed him desperately. “Is that so?” He asked once he broke away their kiss, Y/N whined at the loss of his lips and confused with his question. Chuckling at her groggy state he squeezed both her cheeks with one hand, forcing her to focus on him and answer his question, “You said you’ve been dreaming about this, baby. Is that what you daydream about at work? Me fucking you so hard your dumb brain can’t even think straight?”

Letting out a pathetic whine, she could only nod her head enthusiastically, “Want that so fucking bad, sir.” He felt his cock harden even more at the title she called him; but he wasn’t even done with teasing her yet. “And that fantasy will come true; but first, stand up and strip for me, baby,” With a soft smack on her cheek, she stood up quickly and unzipped her dress. Andy watched her present her body for him as he poured another glass for himself.

Resting on the arm rest was the hand with the sparkling champagne, while the other was palming his erection as watched her push her dress down to the floor. “No bra? Just that poor excuse of underwear?” He moaned out as he observed the fabric that parts at the middle, teasing the paradise that awaits for his cock.

Lowering her gaze, as if bashful, at his filthy remarks before resuming her previous position of sitting on his lap with her hands moving to unbutton his button down. “Such an impatient little thing, aren’t you?” He clicked his tongue at her; to which she pouted as she stared at him with want written on her face, “I’m sorry, sir. What do you want me to do?”

“Ride my thigh like the slut you are, baby,” He commanded her without even thinking about it, which turned her on even more. Situating herself on his thick, lean thigh she moaned out loud as the fabric of her thong added even more friction. She began to ride him with slow but sharp movements, throwing her head back when she felt her wetness taint the fabric of his slacks, “How does it feel, baby?”

“Good, so good,” Her broken cries turned him on even more as he sipped on the champagne, enjoying the tingle it left on his tongue. “Do you trust me, baby?” Surprised at his question, she opened her eyes to look at him, her hip movements not faltering one bit. Upon seeing how serious he was she answered, “I do, Andy. I trust you.”

With a smirk, he then tipped the glass just above her breasts, allowing the liquid to run from her collarbones and down to her breasts. Gasping out loud when Andy runs his tongue on her skin, following the trail that the champagne took, “Don’t stop grinding on me, love,” He reminded her as his lips drank the liquid that landed on her nipple — subsequently sucking on the pebble-like flesh. Seeking purchase on his dark hair, Y/N continued rubbing herself on his thigh — his assault on her breast encouraging her to ride him even harder and faster.

“Time to drink some more,” Andy huskily spoke out as he poured some more of the beverage on her opposite breast  causing the girl to stiffen a bit as she was taken aback by the sudden coolness on her breast. His tongue flattened against her skin, now more focused on kissing every inch of her skin instead of drinking up the liquor. His hand held her breast firmly, raising it a bit so he could suck on it and slurp the booze.

“Fuck, the champagne tastes even incredible on you, baby,” HIid praise got her flustered and she could only whine as she felt herself getting closer. “I’m so close, sir. Can I cum, please?” She fluttered her eyes at him sweetly, hoping he’d show her mercy; but his wicked smile and wink got her thinking she’d be shown the opposite of it. “Not yet, baby,” He was quick to shut her wails up with a smack on her breast, “Sit down on the sofa, baby.”

Even though she denied him her release, she followed his orders without a complaint — working with him provided her a clear picture of what happens when you don’t follow Andy’s orders, and it didn’t end well for everyone involved. As she sat down, she watched as the lawyer placed his glass on the table and reached for the bottle; poured some on her pussy. Y/N watched closely as Andy licked her clit, down to her hole. Without tearing his eyes away from hers, he inserted his tongue in her and tried to reach as far as his long tongue can go. “So good, Andy,” She grabbed onto his hair, pushing his face closer to her. The man was quick to smack her thigh, causing her to press her thighs more into his frame, “You know what to call me,” He warned.

“Sir,” She panted out, “Feel so good, sir.” Pleased with that, he rewarded her by rubbing his right thumb on her clit, making her moan even louder. Loving her blissed out sounds of pleasure, Andy began licking her ferociously; he drank up all of the champagne he poured and all the juices she had to provide. He inserted his left pointer and middle finger in her, taking her aback with the sudden simulation. Her thighs were shaking with how good he was making her feel, too weak to even grab onto his hair and her arms were now limp on her sides, “Sir, please! I’m so fucking close, please let me cum.”

Without tearing his mouth and hands from her he replied, “Then cum on my fucking tongue, you slut,” The vibrations adding more to the pleasure she felt. After a few more thrusts of his fingers, kitten licks of his tongue, she felt apart with a scream. Her thighs wrapped themselves around his shoulders, squeezing him so tight that she felt his beard tickle her delicate skin. Andy pulled out his fingers that were in her, replacing them with his tongue so he can gather all of her juices and drink some of them in. “You taste like fucking heaven, baby,” He groaned as he parted from her pussy, his fingers pushing her juices back inside her so he could use it as lube.

“Wanna kiss you, sir,” Her fingers touched the patch of facial hair above his lips, surprised with how it had her juices. Andy complied, giving her a brief, but sweet kiss. “Want you on your hands and knees, baby. Hold on to the back of the sofa okay?” Y/N couldn’t help but feel mushy with how gentle he was bossing her around — when she knew his next actions would be far from gentle.

Holding on to the back of the sofa, she used it to steady herself on her knees, bending slightly so she could arch her back to accentuate her ass. Andy quickly discarded his clothes before rubbing her pussy again and pushed some of her juices in, before entering in her pussy in one go. His forehead rested on her back as he groaned out, “Fuck baby you’re so tight. Been a while huh?” Anchoring himself on her hips, he slid in and out of her at a steady pace.

Y/N moaned out loud as she felt the back of her thighs meet Andy’s hips; he was thrusting into her with no remorse. Her hand travelled to her breast, switching between pinching the nipple or pulling on it. Grabbing her hair with one hand, the bearded man pulled her so her back was pressed firmly against his chest. You’d think that this would give Andy a difficult time to rut into her but it didn’t; instead it just made him drive his cock in her harder and faster, falling into a drum-like rhythm.

“Why are you fucking touching yourself, slut?” Feeling his breath on her ear turned her on more than she cared to admit and she couldn’t even string together a coherent response since the tip of his dick pushed into her g-spot, causing her to moan out loud. “You’re such a fucking mess that you can’t even think straight huh?”

Nodding pathetically was all the response Y/N could offer as she clawed on to Andy’s toned arms; the lawyer then decided to go all the way with his fun by wrapping his big hand around her neck, applying gentle pressure. “You don’t mind this do you, sweetheart?” Shaking her head no, Andy then smiled as he put more force on the sides of her neck as he rammed his cock in her until the tip of his cock repeatedly hit her bundle of nerves that made tears leave her eyes with how good everything felt. The other hand that wasn't wrapped around her throat then lowered itself on her clit, rubbing the hardened nub.

“If only you knew how hard you got me every time you came to work with a tight skirt or pants,” He breathed out against her ear, tickling her with his breath, “Giving me a perfect view of the shape of your ass,” And to emphasize his point he thrust so hard until his cock was all the way in and spanked her ass. “Walking around the office with so much fucking confidence,” He recalled the time wherein she called out an officemate for talking lewdly about her — that caused him to jerk one off in the office bathroom. “But now you’ve been reduced to a dumb cock hungry whore for me,” She wailed out in agreement as his hand squeezed her throat so tight to the point she was now gasping for breath as his other hand wrapped around her tit, loving the weight and feel of it on his hand, grabbing onto it to move it up and down his hand.

“Are you gonna cum again, baby? Gonna cum around my thick cock?” He could feel her walls clinging on to his cock even more, making it difficult to thrust in her but he was determined to keep on sliding his cock in and out. “Yes, so close, please let me cum,” She trailed off as he abandoned his hold on her tit and throat and returned to her hips so he could maneuver her and ram his cock swiftly and harder. “Cum then you, slut. Let me feel you milk my cock,” Was all the permission she needed before she dug her nails into his forearms as came with a scream, “Thank you, sir!”

Even as she was cumming, Andy thrust in and out of her; though his thrusts weren’t as powerful and quick. Once he felt her spasms die down, he slid all the way inside her and came with a groan. They both could feel his cock twitch as it released his load inside her, filling her up with his hot semen. Littering kisses on her back, Andy could feel his regular breathing return — as was hers.

Carefully, Andy pulled out of her, “Can you stand up for a bit, baby?” She nodded and stood up from her position, the lawyer guiding her to sit by the arm rests. Still stuck in her post-orgasm haze, she watched as he moved the coffee table away and transformed his sofa into a bed. Grabbing the spare bed sheet, blanket, and pillows he kept in the office — in case he had to spend the night in the office — he quickly made the bed before he helped Y/N to lay down with him, wrapping the blanket over their naked bodies.

“How you feeling?” It was amazing how he had a quick change of demeanor; Y/N was lazily tracing over Andy’s face with her finger, making the most out of this intimate moment. “Feel good, really good. Always wanted someone to fuck me the way you did.”

Her curt response had him chuckling, loving the way she was being open with him and the way she traced over his features. “Well I’m glad I fulfilled this fantasy of yours.”

Suddenly, Y/N felt small and insecure; was this a one time thing? Just something to release his frustrations and a fantasy of hers that's been fulfilled? Furrowing her eyebrows, she failed to mask her worry as she wondered, “So this is just a one time thing then?”

Hating what she just said, Andy kissed the wrinkle in between her eyebrows as he spoke, “I don’t want it to be. I really want to be with you; if you’ll have me, of course.” A small smile rested on her lips as her eyes brightened up, “I’d want that and you. You’re so amazing, Andy. I admire your strength, resilience, and determination. For someone who could easily give up in life you choose to carry on and look forward to what the future holds. It’s just a bonus that you have a thick cock and know how to use it.”

Her small speech had him chuckling and kissing her nose, pulling her close against him, “What I said earlier was true; I love how you walk around the office like you own the place. You take no shit from people and do your job damn well. Plus, I love your music taste as well.”

Grinning at him she jeered, “Wow can’t believe you still sweet talk your way even if it’s not in a courtroom setting.” Andy laughed at her retort and just grazed his fingertips on her sides, tickling her so he can hear her giggle. Once both their laughter died down, their lips met for a sweet, passionate kiss. “We have quite a mess to clean up tomorrow, Andy,” Y/N reminded him as she referred to the champagne bottle, glasses, their clothes, and his sofa bed — their whole situation, really.

“I don’t care,” He whispered as smiled at her, feeling so much lighter and better having been haunted by his personal demons for so long, “I don’t mind doing anything as long as it’s with you.”

Her heart fluttered with his simple statement; she was then reminded of the new year countdown. Reaching out for his wrist, she checked the time and noticed how a few minutes had passed 12. “Happy new year, Andy,” She greeted him with a peck on his lips.

A short, sweet kiss was returned to her as he planted his lips on hers again — quickly getting addicted to her, “Happy new year, baby. Can’t wait to spend this year with you by my side.”

[eddiesfaerie]

Long Sleeves (part 2)

Summary: Pushed to its absolute limits; a retelling of the past 4 months of you and Charlie’s complicated relationship (13.5k words, i dont know what to say other than im so sorry)

Warnings: NSFW, f!reader, major angst, annoying fluff, mentions of divorce, affairs, age gap (between Charlie and reader, previously implied), nudes, phone sex, PIV sex, daddy kink, some size kink, pain kink(?), rough (and angry and sad) sex, dom and sub themes, spanking, fingering, oral sex (m receiving), i also mention christmas a lot at the beginning which isn't really a warning but i know not everyone celebrates it!

Part 1

A/N: for those of you who are not a fan of d*ddy kink but who may still want to read this; i only use it between the time stamps of Christmas Eve to March, following the March timestamp there will be no mention or use of that word! just thought i’d mention cause the ending is cathartic!

LATE DECEMBER - APARTMENT

With Henry and Nicole staying in LA until after the holidays, Charlie would be alone with you until he left again.

And he didn’t leave your apartment once in the meantime.

Making up for lost time, is what you could call it.

The hours, days, spent in between sheets, on countertops, on couches, in the shower. Like he was trying to mark your apartment with his scent, make sure you never forgot him when he would leave again for LA in a few days.

You would remember him everywhere.

The way your knees bruised on the tile floor of your shower. The welts on your ass from his harsh hand. The bite marks on your shoulders, the bruises littering your neck, stomach, anywhere he could reach.

You would remember him everywhere.

The thousands of ‘good girls’ he praised you with and the thousand and one ‘fucking sluts’ he punished you with. Charlie was coming to know your insides and outs better than you could at this point, it was a certain level of familiarity you were happy with him reaching. He was becoming more and more comfortable around you.

You could tell not just because of the frequent sex, the hard fucking, but because of how he was opening up to you about the divorce. About what was really going on down in LA, what was happening with Henry, what had been happening (or more so, not happening) with Nicole for nearly the past year. 

He told you about how she ignored him, refused to have sex with him, even touch him. How he had found solace in a one time affair with their stage director, how he just missed feeling needed, feeling wanted by the only person who was supposed to fulfill that innate human desire.

He told you everything he could think of, every little detail. He was tired of hiding, holding it in.

He realized he would have to tell you when he would get a random call from his lawyer or from Nicole herself, when he would talk to Henry. When he yelled through the phone or hung up crying, slamming his device against the wall, nearly breaking it.

He knew he would have to explain it to you, he owed it to you.

You deserved to know, especially now that he was involving you in this to some degree. He didn’t want to, didn’t want to involve you but he needed you more than he needed anyone else right now. More than he was ready to admit perhaps, just how much he truly needed you.

And that’s why going back to LA would be the hardest thing he’s done all week.

He stood at the door, dressed, suitcase packed, heart lurching, thumping low in his chest with dread, resent, fear, and some feeling he couldn’t fucking name.

Lo-

“I wish you could come.” He says instead, the saddest smile you’ve seen adorning his perfect lips. You smile back, just as sadly. You know there was absolutely no reason for you to go to LA with him, to spend Christmas with Nicole and Henry and whatever extended family would be there as well. It would never happen, never work. At least, not right now. Not like this.

The divorce proceedings were on break till after the holidays, both in and against Charlie’s favour. It meant not giving Henry two Christmases, one last normal one. But it also meant pretending, indulging in that… façade that him and Nicole have been keeping up for too fucking long now.

The deed would be done sometime in February, maybe March, Charlie couldn’t remember. He tried not to think about it too much. Think about losing everything-

“I know. But you’ll enjoy yourself. Henry will be happy.” You remind him, letting him hold you so, so tightly. His vice grip, digging into you, trying to anchor himself to you.

“I can’t believe I’m leaving you alone during fucking Christmas.” You laugh.

“I’m going home to see my parents, I won’t be alone, Charlie.” He nods his head, hearing the words you’re saying but he still can’t stop the guilt from creeping up on him. He doesn’t want you to think he’s abandoning you. He won’t abandon you, like everyone’s abandoned him. He just hoped you wouldn’t abandon him either.

Charlie presses his forehead against yours, his hands gripping your waist and pressing your body against his. Your arms wrap around his neck.

“I’ll call you this time, I promise. Every night… I’ll call.”

“Okay.” You giggle, believing him.

His hand sneaks its way up your jaw, gripping your cheeks gently but angling your face for you to meet his dark, dark eyes. You know that look, so familiar now. You feel the pressure start to rise inside you, heat pooling in the very pit of your stomach.

“You’ll be good for me?” You nod immediately, fervently.

“Yes, Charlie.”

“If I ask you to send me pictures, what’ll you do?”

“S-send you pictures.” Breathless, your voice sounds so breathless. Your eyelids threatening to close but you keep them on him, always.

“That’s my good girl.” He growls, tilting your face all the way to his lips, a kiss, a seal of approval. You moan against his lips, letting your eyelids flutter shut, imagining yourself in all those new lingerie sets he’s bought you over the last week.

Your early Christmas presents, he had told you.

“The… the taxis waiting out front.” You say against his lips, not wanting him to leave just yet, but also not wanting him to leave you high and dry before getting on a plane set for across the country for at least another week, probably longer. Charlie ignores you, shoving his tongue down your throat, his grip on your jaw moving down to your neck, squeezing ever so slightly, fingers ghosting over bruised skin, enough to make you fall further into his chest, gripping his perfectly ironed shirt, ruining it.

He pulls away all too soon, no doubt doing this to you on purpose. It was 7am and you were already whimpering into his parted lips.

“I-I’ll miss you.” You admit, heart crashing into your ribs. 

You hadn’t meant to say it but he was making your brain foggy, your thoughts were jumbled together and you just let it slip past your lips. Charlie stares at you, red lips swollen like petals, cheeks matching, hair perfectly in place with your help nothing but fifteen minutes earlier. It feels like a lifetime has passed before he says anything back to you. The taxi honks outside on the curb.

“I’ll… I’ll miss you more.”

CHRISTMAS EVE - UPSTATE NEW YORK

It was relieving to be away from the city, surrounded by more wilderness, more foliage, more trees, more animals. A literal breath of fresh air that wasn’t tainted by sewage and the ever present scent of smoke coming from somewhere or someone.

You loved coming up here. Escaping. You hadn’t been back home since last Christmas. You moved away when you were quite young, the relationship you had with your parents was complicated, clashing personalities, it was difficult to understand each other when you were younger but there was clarity that came with age. They finally respected you, and you finally respected them as well, understanding them better.

You think spending so much time with Charlie and Henry gave you an insight into parenthood that you had never been privy too beforehand. You were thankful for that, not only did you appreciate your parents more, but now parenthood had many more benefits that you had never considered before. Magical, rewarding, fulfilling.

Charlie kind of made you feel that way too.

It was still awkward at times with your parents, that was unavoidable. No siblings around meant all eyes were on you. They were asking for too many details, prying too deep and you just never felt comfortable indulging in yourself this much. But you always came prepared, it was the holidays after all, things always got weird.

After Christmas Eve dinner, your parents invited you out on a walk with them around their little town. They did this every night apparently, just walking together, talking. It was cute, endearing. You declined their offer, however. Thankfully you weren’t sixteen anymore, and your parents didn’t press you any further to come along with them like they used to.

They’d be back in thirty minutes.

That gave you thirty minutes to call Charlie. Just as he instructed.

Earlier this evening, as your parents were beginning to prepare dinner, Charlie’s family was just finishing lunch out in California. A perfect time for a perfect distraction, or intrusion. 

You had packed a few sets of the new lingerie Charlie had bought you, not knowing what he would want to see on you or how often you should switch it up. You nearly brought all of them but didn’t want to take up too much space in your luggage and be suspicious.

You put one on that you thought Charlie was particularly fond of, a skimpy little number that revealed more skin than hid, it’s colour complimenting your skin like it was made for you, made to hug your figure in all the right places. You forgot that Charlie had such a visual mind sometimes, he knew exactly what you would look good in.

Nervous and a bit shaky, you tucked yourself away into your childhood bedroom to take your pictures for Charlie. You felt like a teenager again.

Charlie was not pleased with the timing of your pictures, seeing as he was surrounded by family and innocently looked at his phone only to get a glimpse of your beautiful fucking body, all the blood going from his head straight to his cock. He nearly fainted. His cheeks lit up like Nicole’s Christmas tree and he stumbled from his chair. Thankfully, everyone seemed to be more occupied with paying attention to Henry than to notice him sprint to the bathroom to scold you over text.

That was hours ago. Charlie had told you to call him exactly at 11pm eastern time. That was only 8pm where he was but he said it worked out perfectly so you didn’t argue. You just waited patiently on your bed, number dialed on your phone and ready to call, all the clock head to do was strike eleven.

Finally, the clocks ding around the house, your thumb flies across your screen and you hold the phone up to your ear, worrying the flesh of your lip between your teeth. It rings once, twice, three times before you can hear his breath on the other end. It already sounds heavy.

“H-hi Charlie.”

“What are you wearing.” His voice is strained, maybe he’s already holding himself in his hand.

“Merry Christmas Eve.” You twist your fingers together nervously. Charlie grunts on the other end, a frustrated sound.

“I f-fucking told you, no pleasantries. I-it’ll only make us miss each other more-” You stayed quiet. You knew he was right, but you already missed him so much and hearing his voice was making it worse. You felt your lip tremble, you missed his arms, his warmth, his-

“Are you fucking pouting right now?” His voice was firm, sturdy, and annoyed.

“No, Charlie.” A lie.

“Good, now tell me what you’re wearing.”

“I’m wearing your favourite, the one from earlier. I’m barely covered.”

“Oh I know baby, your tits looked so fhuuuucking good in those pictures you sent me.” The fluctuation in his voice was rising and falling randomly, you could picture his hand wrapped tightly around his angry cock, the head flushed red, precum dribbling out the top, just begging to be licked. He tasted so good…

“A-are you touching yourself?”

“No, you didn’t tell me to.”

“G-good girl, you’re so fucking good to me, you know that?” You pictured his chest, the way he flushes right in the center, between his pecs. The way the red splotches climb up, up, up his neck and onto his cheeks and up to the peaks of his ears. You thought about the heavy rise and fall of his chest as well, how fucking wide he is, how much bigger than you he is. You audibly moaned.

“Tell me what you’re thinking about?”

“Y-you.”

“Be specific- fuck.”

“Um, your- your cock. How big it is, how big you are. How it feels when you stretch me out, when you go so deep I feel you in my stomach-”

“Keep going baby, I’m… I’m so f-UHcking close.”

“I think about the first time, a-a lot. How it felt the first time you split me open- fuck Charlie you’re so big I never think you’re going to fit but I always take it, I-”

“Yeah, yeah you always take me like the good little girl you are, such a good fucking slut for me, taking my cock in that tight fucking pussy.” He sneers, you can tell he’s talking from behind clenched teeth and you moan again, loudly. Your brain short circuits, what comes out next, comes from the deepest part of you.

“Oh Daddy,-”

“What did you just call me?”

Fuck.

You hadn’t really meant to say it, you were just so caught up in the moment, the feeling, the sound of him that you completely lost your inhibitions and let it slip out. You expected him to just end the call now.

“Charlie I’m so sorry-” He cuts you off with a firm call of your name.

“I asked you a question. What… did you call me?” Your stomach flips and your insides threaten to spill past your lips and onto your floor.

“Daddy.” You say so quietly you’re not sure he even heard you.

“I didn’t catch that.”

“Daddy.” Frustration laces your voice as you project the word throughout the entire upper floor of the house. He definitely hears it that time. You think you hear Charlie moan on the other end but you don’t want to be too hopeful.

“You wanna call me Daddy? Hmm? You want me to be your fucking Daddy, is that it?”

“N-no…” You’re not sure what he’s getting at, but you feel like he’s just going to torment you.

“Don’t fucking lie to me you little slut.” His breathing picks up again, his voice booming, heavy breaths between every few words. You can hear the slick of his hand as it moves quickly over his length.

“Yes! Yes I- I want you to…”

“Say it.”

“I want you to be my Daddy.” Charlie moans loudly again, his hand somehow moving faster. You can tell he’s close. You can’t believe he likes this. You love it.

“Yeah, I’ll be your fucking Daddy. You better fucking call me that non stop when I get back to you, my sweet little girl.” You moan this time, squeezing your thighs together, feeling your arousal trail slightly down onto your thigh. You were so distracted you hadn’t realized you’d completely soaked through your underwear.

“I will, Daddy.”

“Fuck, I’m-”

Confidence surged you. You still couldn’t believe he liked this but you finally gave in, feeding his desires. When you spoke, your voice was filled with something wicked, sickeningly sweet and most of all, evil.

“Are you going to cum for me, Daddy? Make a mess for me?”

You felt like you hadn’t even finished your sentence before a loud moan punched through your phone and into your ear. You moaned as well just from his release, feeling it in your mind and in your chest, squeezing your thighs again for any sort of friction. Charlie continued to moan through his release, you pictured his silky cum painting his taut abdomen and his beautiful chest. You imagined it blending in with his moles and freckles, you pictured yourself rubbing your hands through it, massaging it into his skin before licking it all up. 

He wouldn’t even have to ask, you would just do it.

“Y-you’re fucking perfect… you fucking angel.” He’s so breathless, completely spent and wasted from your voice alone. You felt so hot. You needed to relieve yourself but you didn’t know if you should ask for permission or not. Before you could even debate it, Charlie spoke again.

“Go to bed, wouldn’t want Santa catching you up like this.” You laughed softly at his comment. Static on the other end. He said your name as if to check if you were still there.

“Yeah?”

“Merry Christmas.”

The line went dead.

JANUARY - BROOKLYN

You had sent Charlie pictures nearly every night after that. And you two called each other every other night as well.

He asked it of you and you couldn’t say no to your Charlie. It was a bit tricky while you were still staying with your parents, he would simply text you and you would have to scurry off to your room or the bathroom and snap as many flattering pictures of yourself as you could. You tried to make it seem less suspicious by drinking tons of water and just blaming it on your bladder.

But the new year had finally come, and you were now back home in your apartment. Charlie would be returning tonight and you were counting down the hours until you saw his taxi pull up on the curb side. You distracted yourself until then.

At around 7pm, you got an unexpected call from Charlie.

“Hi.” You felt like your smile was audible through the phone.

“Hey,” Charlie chuckled darkly, his voice always sounding deeper and richer through the receiver. “I just got in. I was wondering if you’d like to join us for dinner tonight?”

Us? He didn’t mean….

“It’s just me and Henry, Nicole’s uh, staying in LA until further notice. If you’re busy or if you can’t that’s-”

“I would love to,” The fact that Charlie would ask you to spend dinner with him and Henry warmed your heart beyond comprehension. Your weeks of loneliness suddenly dissolving into the background and becoming nothing more than a distant memory, a distant feeling. “but is Henry okay with it?”

“Of course he’s okay with it. He’s actually been talking about you quite a bit. I think he might have missed you more than I did,” Charlie choked a bit on his last words, “not that I didn’t miss you, I just meant that he, you know, Henry was-”

“It’s okay, Charlie I understood what you meant.” You giggle, finding his slight awkwardness endearing. How was it that you both were having incredible phone sex for the past two weeks and now you both sounded like teenagers calling their crush?

“So, you’ll come?”

“Yeah, I’ll come.” Charlie groans at your suggestive tone.

“Don’t start now.” His voice stern, unwavering. You laugh again, more mischievous this time. You test the waters, not stepping in enough to drown... just yet.

“I’ll be over in ten minutes, is that okay, Daddy?” You hear rustling on the other end of the phone and then Charlie cursing a low ‘fuck!’. You think you hear Henry’s voice too, followed by more of Charlie’s now muffled voice.

“Ten minutes is fine.”

//

Henry had bombarded you at the door, he wrapped his tiny arms around your legs and hugged himself tightly to you. It took everything in you not to cry, you knelt down so you could hug him back.

“I missed you.” He dug his cheek into your shoulder. This kid was the sweetest, he would melt your heart every time.

“I missed you too, Henry. How was LA? How was Christmas? Tell me everything!”

Henry grabbed your hand and dragged you into the living room where all his new toys were laid out, ready for him to play with. As he was pulling you there, Charlie emerged from around the doorway like an angel himself. Your eyes met and you felt as if you were moving in slow motion, and not being dragged at top speed by his child.

“Hi.” You greet, almost shyly. Unsure of how to act around him with Henry present.

“Hi.” Charlie repeats, grabbing your free hand for the briefest moment, giving it a tight squeeze until it's pulled out of his grasp by Henry.

You’re not sure how long you spent playing on the floor with Henry, him retelling you the events of the last two or three weeks while Charlie sat on the couch, glancing at the two of you every now and then. You tried not to think about the position you were in, kneeling on the floor, carpet digging into your knees, Charlie sitting tall above you on the couch, looking down at you from between his parted knees. It looked like such a natural position for him, almost like he was too comfortable like this, too familiar with it. You wanted to-

The doorbell rang, making both you and Henry jump from the sharp noise.

“Henry would you like to go pay the pizza guy?” Charlie asked, already pulling his wallet from the pocket in his pants.

“Yes!” Henry shouted, jumping up from the carpet, whisking the crisp bills from his dad’s hands and running to the door to answer it. Charlie figured he had a minute or less before Henry came back.

He lifted himself from the couch, taking your jaw into his hand and bringing you to stand with him. He crashed his lips into yours, violently shoving his tongue down your throat and you had to bite back the moan that threatened to spill through your lips and into his awaiting mouth. His hands had a deadly grip on your waist and on your jaw, you only wished he would ease up because you didn’t want Henry to wonder why you both looked so flustered.

“I can’t wait until tonight.” He said against your lips, his hand on your jaw moving to trail down your throat.

“W-what’s tonight?”

“I got it!” Henry came rushing back into the living room but not before Charlie pushed himself away from you and let go of your throat and waist. It looked like nothing had happened.

“Let’s go set it up in the dining room.” Henry stomped his foot in retaliation, whining slightly.

“Nooo, Dad, can we please watch a movie with pizza?”

“Henry, we have a guest-”

“Please!”

“What movie do you want to watch?” You asked, budding in, trying to stop a tantrum in its tracks. Henry’s eyes lit up and he glanced between you and his dad.

“Have you ever seen ‘Frozen’?” You actually had, but he didn’t need to know that. You gasped.

“I haven’t!” You glanced over at Charlie. His eyes were dark but an innocent smirk pulled at his lips.

He was thinking about how this just meant it would take longer before he could finally fuck you again, a two hour movie cockblock. It had been over two weeks since he had felt your body against his, nothing to satiate him but the sound of your voice and some mediocre photos. Charlie thinks he should show you how to take some really good ones sometime soon. Not that yours didn’t most definitely do the trick, he just thinks he likes the idea of directing you, positioning you...

But Charlie was also thinking about how he found it very sweet, very heartwarming to watch you bond with Henry. He loved watching you have such a good time with him and treat him like a person, not just a child. And he could tell that Henry really liked spending time with you too. Not just from how much he talked about you when you weren’t around, but the smile that lit up his face when you came over or when he went over to your place.

It was getting harder and harder to get Henry to smile like that.

You all sat down on the couch, little wooden fold up tables in front of your seat to hold your plate of pizza slices. Henry sitting between you and Charlie, of course.

Henry sang along passionately to almost every song, sometimes with bites of pizza in his mouth and Charlie would scold him for it, afraid he would choke but Henry ignored his dad’s requests, just continuing to belt out along with the characters on screen.

As the movie progressed and neared the end, you could feel Charlie getting more and more sleepy on his side of the couch. He would rearrange his sitting position every now and then and his eyes would close for minutes at a time. He looked so soft with his arms folded across his chest, his eyelashes fluttering against the tops of his cheeks, his lips coming to rest in the softest little pout. You nudge Henry gently and he turns to look up at you.

“Looks like your dad’s asleep.” You giggle, pointing to Charlie. Henry immediately jumps on him, startling Charlie awake.

“Dad I can’t believe you fell asleep again!” Henry pouts, grabbing Charlie’s face between his hands and shaking him from side to side. Charlie grabs his son’s little hands to stop his efforts, sitting himself up straighter on the couch and hugging Henry to his chest.

“Mmm’wasn’t sleeping.” Henry rolled his eyes.

“Why don’t you go get your daddy a blanket so he can get comfy for the rest of the movie.” You wink at Henry, sending him searching upstairs for the perfect blanket for his dad.

Charlie groans and drops his head on the back of the couch, his hand draping across is as well, coming to rest on the very tip of your shoulder. He wraps his fingers along your muscles, squeezing the flesh into his palm, tightly.

“I heard that.”

“Heard what?” Daddy.

His head lifts from the couch to glare at you, his stare deadly, shooting right to the deepest parts of you. Why were you teasing him like this?

“Dad is the dinosaur one okay?” Henry calls from up the stairs, slowly making his way down and back to the couch.

“It’s perfect, Henry. Thank you.” Charlie takes the blanket from Henry and kisses the top of his forehead before he settles back on the couch, cuddling up next to his dad.

You unpause the movie, admiring the two of them every now and then, watching Henry becoming more and more sleepy as the film nears its end. As the credits roll, Charlie removes the blanket from around himself and moves it to wrap around Henry.

“I’m going to go tuck him in.” Charlie whispers to you. You nod sweetly at the two of them. Charlie carries Henry in his arms towards the stairs before Henry grumbles, calling out your name to you back on the couch.

“Will you come too?”

You look to Charlie for guidance, you don’t want to overstep any boundaries. You’ve never been in the upstairs part of their apartment, you’ve never seen the rest of their place, Henry’s room, Charlie’s room, their bathroom. You’d never seen any of it and it all felt incredibly intimate and incredibly wrong in some way. You didn’t want to accidentally see something you shouldn’t. But Charlie just smiles back at you and nods his head gently.

“Of course, Henry.” You follow them up the stairs, smiling at Henry who smiles that shiny little kid smile at you before laying his head back down on Charlie’s shoulder, resting his eyes again.

Henry’s bedroom is exactly like you imagined it would be. Colourful blue walls, vibrant comic book patterned bed sheets, toys absolutely everywhere yet Charlie avoids them like their place on the floor has meaning, like he’s ingrained it into his mind from stepping on them too many times, muscle memory. You stay in the doorway, leaning on the door frame watching them, not wanting to intrude.

Charlie carefully lowers Henry onto his bed, tucking him in the covers and kissing his forehead. He says sweet words to his son, lulling him further to sleep and Henry smiles dopily back at him, whispering a quiet ‘love you, dad.’

Charlie turns around to face you, he flicks his head in the direction of the stairway mouthing the word ‘go’ to you, you nod and head down the stairs, waiting for him in the living room. You decide to settle yourself at the foot of the couch, sitting on your knees, feeling the burn of the carpet again and waiting for your Charlie.

He descends the stairs slowly, achingly slowly. Making you wait for it, making you feel the weight in his steps, his foot pressing into the wood, applying his weight until he shifts down another step before finally, finally, making his way to you.

You look up at him from your place on the floor, you try not to let your mouth hang open as you gaze up at him, this beautiful man. Sometimes, when you look at him, you wonder if whatever god or gods were out there made him like this on purpose. Sent him here looking the way he does to taunt you, to test you. Test your strength, your will to defy him when you know there is no humanly way possible to deny this man of what he wants. And what he wants is you. Why would you say no? How could you?

After observing you on the floor below him, Charlie seats himself down on the couch like before, knees spread, looking down at you. You scoot closer to him, hoping he doesn’t tell you to stop. His hand comes to rest on his knee before he pats it.

“Lay your head down on me.” His voice rumbles in his chest. You think you feel it through the floorboards, through your knees, up your spine and in the pit of your stomach. You listen and scoot closer, resting your head on his bony knee, nuzzling it with your cheek and looking up at him through thick lashes. You continue looking at him as you press a tender kiss as well, just for fun.

The lights are dim in the living room, the time ticking closer to midnight, Henry asleep upstairs. You both had to be quiet, you both knew this. Charlie’s hand comes to brush against your cheekbone, he trails his index finger all along the valleys of your face and then moving into your hair, gripping the back of it into a fist before relaxing again, bringing his hand back to hold your cheek.

“I’ve missed this.” He says so quietly. You nod, biting your lip.

“Me too.” You say, eagerness beginning to fill your voice. You adjust your position, coming to lean further into him, closer to his crotch where you can tell he needs you. Charlie hums contentedly.

“Mhmmm. Tell me what exactly you missed. Who you missed.” You let your hand glide over his knee, over his muscular thigh and towards his crotch, feather light touches along the fabric of his pants. You could feel how hard he was, it seemed painful.

“You. I missed your cock too... Daddy.”

There it was. He found what he was looking for. His hand found its way into a fist again in your hair, tugging it tightly, his head falling back against the couch as you pressed your lips over his covered cock, straining in his pants.

“You can do better than that,” he groaned, voice almost as strained as his cock yet still so forceful, “show Daddy how much you really missed him.”

You whimper at his tone, your voices both so hushed, rasped and desperate, spurring each other on much quicker than usual. Your hands, shaky with desire, reached up for his belt, grasping the cold metal into your hands and unbuckling it as quickly as you could. Only when you got to his zipper, did Charlie stop you with a light tap to your cheek.

“Teeth.” He scolded. You nodded.

You brought the zipper in between your teeth, biting down on the tiny piece of metal and slowly dragging it down over the hill his cock was creating in his pants. The heat radiating from his body was palpable, you could feel it coming onto your face the lower you dragged the zipper and the more he was revealed to you. You could also smell him, that smell that was undeniably Charlie; musky, earthy, a hit of fabric detergent and just the natural smell of his skin, like almonds in the summer. It made you dizzy, drunk off of him already.

You hadn’t even gotten him in your mouth yet.

You nuzzled your face into his clothed crotch, feeling his hard member pressing into your cheek, you could feel it pulsing, you could feel him wanting, waiting for the moment your mouth would take his length as far back as you could. You whimpered at the thought.

“You like it? You like my cock?”

“Yeah, I love it.”

“Then show me with that pretty fucking mouth of yours.” He sneered, pulling harder on your hair. You hummed and smiled, you felt giddy, maybe you really were drunk. You nuzzled your face into his crotch one more time before bringing both of your hands up to his waist, letting your fingertips dance around his beautiful skin that lay revealed to you above the waistband, you lean up, up, up pressing the softest, delicatest kisses to his skin.

Charlie groaned, pressing on the back of your head, pushing your face further into his tummy. You left more and more kisses before you gave him a tentative bite, not letting your teeth sink in too much before you lave your tongue over the abused flesh.

“Fuck that feels- fucking good.” Charlie moaned, looking down at the new mark that would only darken itself by tomorrow as more blood rushes to the affected area. It was placed beautifully next to his hip bone. You think it looked pretty. So did he.

You finally let your fingertips dip into his waistband but not before latching your teeth onto the stretchy fabric as well, aiding your fingers in removing them. You dragged it down, down, down his skin, just until his cock sprang free and laid heavy on his lower stomach. Charlie hissed, his hips bucking slightly from the sudden freedom.

He has the prettiest cock you think you’d ever seen. You never get used to seeing it, taking it in your mouth or your cunt. The stretch is always so painfully good, you’ve come to crave it. And going without it for the past however many weeks has made you near delirious for it. You stick your tongue out and run it all along the underside right to the very tip, where a shiny, pearly bead of precum has just begun to spill over. You hum as you lick it up, eyes nearly rolling back into your head.

“Don’t be a fucking tease.” Charlie grits from behind clenched teeth. You look up at him innocently, you notice that he’s clenching and unclenching his jaw like clockwork, his eyes look glassy and his cheeks are a few shades darker. He already looks so disheveled, so perfect like this.

“I can’t help it… it’s so pretty.”

“You think Daddy has a pretty cock?” You nod your head, humming, which you can’t seem to stop doing tonight, he just has you feeling so content, so safe. You don't think you could be like this with anyone else. You trace your fingers along his length, watching it bob from the slightest of touches, even Charlie tries to bite back his groans.

“Can-can I kiss it?”

“Please.” You lower your head towards his length, pressing your lips so softly onto his red angry head, giving little kitten licks in between kisses which has Charlie gripping your hair like a vice, afraid you’ll float away. You like the way his stomach flexes in response to your touch, like his body is bracing himself for the tidal wave of pleasure that’s bound to hit at any moment.

You finally take the spongy pink head into your mouth, swirling your tongue around it before letting a few inches fall past your lips as well. Charlie’s tummy flexes even more, the v shaped muscle becoming more and more prominent and you moan onto his cock. His free hand that had been clenched into a fist comes to hold one side of your head and the other comes to meet it. He holds your head in his hands and forces you to take more of him, but not all of it just yet. You start bobbing your head up and down on his length, his hands helping you find his ideal speed.

“Fuck yes, oh my god, j-just like that-” Charlie moans your name, his fingernails digging into your scalp making you moan on his cock again, only making him dig deeper, pressing your head further down his length, forcing you to take him until he hits the back of your throat.

“Gonna let Daddy f-fuck that pretty little whore mouth of yours?” You let your jaw go slack more than it already has and do your best to nod with his cock half way down your throat, tears already beginning to brim in the corner of your eyes. Charlie starts lifting his hips off the couch slightly, all the while moving your head further up and down his cock, forcing it down your throat as far as it’ll go without you making obscenely loud gagging noises.

His son was asleep right upstairs, after all.

You let your eyes roll back into your head, letting Charlie take control and just fuck his cock into your mouth like you know he needs to, like he knows you need it too. It’s been too fucking long. Too fucking long since he’s had you like this. At his disposal, his little plaything to do whatever he pleases with. And you fucking love it.

The cool, sharp metal of his unzipped zipper digs into your jaw and occasionally your neck, biting into your skin and scratching your skin when Charlie lifts his hips up particularly high but you don’t care. In fact, you welcome the pain, embracing it as a mark of Charlie’s rough loving. You hope it draws blood.

“Fuck, your mouth i-is so fucking perfect, so warm... I don’t-” He doesn’t finish his sentence, his eyes screw shut and you can feel his cock growing impossibly harder. He looks down at you, his face twisted in absolute pleasure as he loses himself in your tight little mouth. He pulls you off his cock with all of his strength. A trail of saliva connecting your spit swollen lips to the head of his cock. You start pumping him quickly with your fist.

“No-no wait I don’t…”

“I want it Charlie, please,” Charlie throws his head back, moaning your name, “cum in my mouth... please.”

You nearly whine that last part. Charlie grabs your hair and tugs it, shaking your head a bit.

“I want to fuck you, I don’t wanna cum yet- FUCK!” You hadn’t stopped your hand movements, your fist moving faster over his cock while he fights his release.

“You can fuck me tomorrow.” You say quickly before attaching your lips around the head of his cock, sucking on it until you feel his thighs, abdomen, hands, mind and soul tense up before he bites back his guttural moans, letting them rumble through his chest like thunder passing, before spilling himself onto your tongue. You moan as it lands, letting it slide down your throat as you taste him, taste all of him until he’s completely drained.

You look up at him through heavy lashes, coated thick in tears that have streamed down your cheeks. Chest heaving, abdomen pulled taught, cheeks incredibly flushed, lips swollen, eyes heavy and tired. Completely spent. He looked so beautiful, your Charlie. So beautiful like this.

“S-show me.” His hand reaches for your jaw, pinching your cheeks to force your jaw and mouth open. You stick your tongue to show him. All gone, you swallowed all of his cum, for him.

“Good girl.” He whispered, patting your cheek affectionately. You smiled sweetly at him, coming up with your hands resting your weight on his thighs, pressing your swollen lips to his. As you extend your knees to stand, you feel the ache in the joints, the bruises already present, no doubt. You loved the pain. Your lips glide effortlessly across each other, so tired, so worn out but always wanting.

“Stay, please.” He says against your lips. You shake your head, no. It was a simple answer. A simple predicament.

“Henry.” 

You pull back to look into Charlie’s eyes, he pulls you into his lap and he winces as you apply just a bit too much weight onto the base of his cock. You look into his eyes, already so sad at the idea of you leaving. But Henry would ask too many questions in the morning.

Why is the nice lady from next door still here, Dad?

Did she stay the night, Dad?

Did she sleep in your bed, Dad?

You and Mom’s bed, Dad?

“I know, I know.” Charlie says, defeated. He presses you into his chest, hugging you to him tightly, tighter than you were expecting. It was a hopeful thought. He understood why it couldn’t happen, couldn’t work. Maybe he just wanted you to entertain the idea for a minute with him. Maybe it would happen one day.

“I really did miss you.” He whispers into your hair, cradling the back of your head with his large, warm hand, pressing you further into the nook of his neck.

“I did too. I really missed you too, Charlie.”

MARCH - BROOKLYN

Charlie was currently back from his third visit to Los Angeles, hunting burroughs for the perfect new home for himself and for Henry. Maybe for you as well, but Charlie didn’t like to dwell on that for too long, he couldn’t allow himself such hopeful thoughts, he would only be let down. 

Would you really want to move in with him? Was that moving too quickly? Would you think he was insane? Crazy? Obsessed? The truth was, he is all of those things; insane, crazy, obsessed with you. He couldn’t help it, no. Not when it came to you.

He would always be desperate for your affection, your attention.

Things were escalating with the divroce. Nicole and Charlie had turned bitter, viscous, backstabbing, conniving. Both fighting for a child who has no intention of hurting anyone, certainly not his mother or father.

Henry had no idea what weight his actions or words held, no idea what it meant when someone came over to observe him and his dad, or him and his mom. When they sent someone out to New York to watch him there, sometimes you would be over too. They asked you so many questions, he didn’t understand why. Why were strangers suddenly so involved in every little thing his parents did? Were they in trouble? Were they bad people? Was he a bad kid? Did they hate him?

Henry pouts as you hold his hand, walking up the driveway to the new apartment Charlie was almost one hundred percent decided on renting. It was in more of a family oriented neighbourhood, still close to his school. Somehow, it had a decent sized backyard (which you had never heard of in New York, even Brooklyn), three bedrooms, an office, a beautiful kitchen, it was basically perfect in Charlie’s eyes.

The first time he visited it back in February, he sent you dozens of pictures and little videos when he had gone alone. He quickly booked another appointment for you to go and look at him with it so he could get your opinion. He made it very clear how important your opinion was to him on this matter, he was always asking you questions about the apartment, even bringing it up randomly. He would scroll through the pictures he had taken, scrutinizing every detail and ask you about it.

Do you think the backyard is big enough?

What if I end up getting Henry a dog? Would there be enough space for that?

Do you really like the kitchen? Be honest.

What about the office room? Do I really need that? Is that too much?

What about the guest bedroom?

You wonder if he was so invested in your opinion because he trusted you, or because he wanted you to move in with them. Neither of you had ever spoken about it before, never had that conversation. And even if you did, Henry would always have the final say. If he didn’t want you living with them, well, that was that. You couldn’t argue with Henry, not when his childhood and upbringing was in question. Especially after this divorce. Charlie would do anything for him. Even if it meant risking you.

//

Charlie ended up getting the house he had been eyeing for nearly a month.

Him and Henry would restart here, no painful memories embedded in the walls, in the flooring, in the holes in the walls, the slammed door frames, the windows that threatened to shatter from all the screaming and crying. None of that was here, it would never be here. None of that would happen again.

Charlie hadn’t asked you to move in.

And you hadn’t necessarily been waiting on him asking either.

You were already coming over pretty frequently. And not just on account of Charlie, Henry still loved seeing you and hanging out with you. You still babysat him when things at the theatre ran late. 

When Nicole moved to LA, Charlie was thrown full force into his work. Forced to recast, rework, and rewrite so many things that she had just left hanging. You watched Henry those nights, stayed until Charlie got home and then took the subway back to your place, next to their now vacant apartment.

You were so lonely those nights you couldn’t sleepover at Charlie’s. You missed his warmth. You hadn’t realized just how much comfort you got knowing he was just next door, just beyond a thick wall. You could have touched it and felt his presence radiating through. But now, nothing. It was cold, dark, empty, meaningless.

And because Charlie had been so overworked for the past few months, the stress was starting to get to him. The constant obstacles and backtracking in the theatre production. The random calls from Nicole, his lawyer, the random flights down to LA, the weeks Henry spent away from him, the nights he lost himself in you, using you as an outlet. You let him, you liked it when he took it out on you, you liked how rough he would get, all that pent up anger being pounded out into your hot cunt. You loved it. Loved when he got mad, frustrated. You were always there for him. You would always be there for him, you hoped he knew that.

But what you didn’t love, was when he started neglecting you.

He would go days sometimes without calling you, so much as even texting you. You would get no word from him for a couple of days and sometimes you would just randomly piece together that he was in LA and he just forgot to tell you. You tried to not let it upset you, you couldn’t imagine what he was going through, the stress of the divorce, the potential of losing Henry, his whole life hanging by a thread. It really wasn’t his fault that he just forgot to mention it to you.

Sometimes he would lash out at you, a small comment or action rubbing him the wrong way and he would erupt, say something he didn’t mean or just walk out on you. Times when things go heated, you tried your best to keep you composure for his sake. He didn’t need you being upset at him too on top of everything else, so you kept it in, for Charlie.

Sometimes he would lash out before you two went out with his theatre friends. He would smile and hug everyone, but kept somewhat of a distance from you. Barely speaking to you, barely including you in the conversation unless someone else asked you a question or directly addressed you. What did you look like to them? Friends? Friends with benefits? Did you look like his whore? The babysitter that he was secretly fucking?

You kind of were.

You drank a lot that night. He fucked you when you got back to his new place. He fell asleep quickly after. You pulled on your long sleeve shirt and nice dress pants that you had been wearing that night after laying next to his warm, sleeping body for thirty minutes, debating, thinking, worrying, dying inside.

You stood up and walked to the door, you looked back to find him watching you. You nervously tugged at your sleeves, staring back at him until he turned around, pushing his face into the pillow, as if silently willing you to leave. You left. You called a taxi and left. You didn’t sleep that night.

//

You think it was because he told you he was going to Los Angeles again.

Maybe he mentioned Nicole? His lawyer? Something about Henry? The theatre? 

You couldn’t remember what started all of this yelling, smashing. You were over at the new place, helping Charlie organize some things for Henry before he came back with him the next time he went out to LA again, which was in a few days.

Charlie was pissed and this time, you weren’t sure how much longer you could hold your calm resolve for him.

“Charlie if you just need some space from me tell me, it won’t hurt my feelings, I understand.” You decide to try and change the subject, maybe just cutting to the chase. Offering him what you think he wants, alone time. Time away from you, from everything. There’s no way he doesn’t need a break.

You hated how quickly you would give everything up for him. You would do anything for him, anything he asked.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” He asked, eyes squinting in confusion. You sigh, running a hand down your face, your patience was running thin and you didn’t want to accidentally set him off.

“Everytime you see me you manage to get frustrated or mad about something. I just don’t want to give you more problems than you already have. I know you’ve been really stressed.”

“Elaborate, please.” His voice was clipped as he put his hands on his hips, stopping what he was doing and turning to you, seemingly giving you more attention than he had in weeks. You huff, not sure how to explain this to him.

“Charlie I-”

“No, what the fuck are you trying to say? That if I fucking ended things you would just leave? No questions asked?” His voice boomed, echoing off the newly painted walls, shaking the frames of yours and Henry’s dinosaur paintings from all those months ago. 

He takes a step closer to you, you take one back, then another just for good measure. Your back hits the wall and you take a deep breath, gathering your thoughts as best as you can with him staring at you with those eyes. Those fucking eyes. They still managed to twinkle even when he was angry.

“I- I would… for Henry. You put Henry first, I put Henry first. If he wanted me gone-”

“He doesn’t fucking want you gone, you know that.” Charlie scoffed, walking closer to you, his face red in frustration, maybe anger. He says your name, it's never sounded so sad.

“Why are you lying to me?” He’s a step away from you now, chest heaving with laboured breaths. He’s trying to compose himself, you can tell. Trying to stay calm but his patience was wearing thin.

“I’m not, I w-wouldn’t lie to you, Charlie.”

“You would leave me?” You nod your head, lip trembling, tears burning, stinging in your eyes, your breathing becoming heavy too. Was this it?

“If that’s what you wanted, if you want me to leave I would.”

“Why? Why would you do something so fucking stupid?” His lip is also trembling, you feel like he’s about to spit in your face, yell at you for being such an idiotic little girl. The thought alone had you squeezing your thighs together, this was so fucked. You shouldn’t like this, shouldn’t like when he got frustrated, you resented the fact that you did.

You couldn’t think straight, the words leaving your mouth didn’t feel your own, like you were speaking some other language, possessed by a foreign being.

“Be-because…” Bile rising in your throat, you felt like you couldn’t breathe.

“Fucking why? Tell me why!” He was yelling, his face in yours and his voice breaking.

“Because I… because I love-”

And then Charlie was kissing you.

Charlie was kissing you.

His tongue swiped into your mouth like he was trying to strangle you with it. His hands came to your cheeks and pressed your body flush against his and the wall, sandwiched between the two. He was hard, you could feel his cock pressing into your stomach as he rolled his hips into you, you moaned into his mouth, tears spilling down your cheeks. He didn’t wipe them away.

“Don’t say it… don’t- fucking say it.” He said against your lips, voice so hush, so quiet and scared.

“Why? Why are you afraid of me?”

“I’m not fucking afraid of you.” He says, confused, angry, lips rough on your own. He keeps trying to kiss you, you don’t want to push him away but you try, you push on his tough chest, his heart beating wildly in its cage.

“Yes you are. You keep pushing me away.” You cry, hiccupping on a ragged sob that leaves your chest, as you ironically try to push him away from you. Charlie tries to kiss you through it, trying to suffocate you.

“I’m not.” He fights.

“You are.”

“I’m not-” You push, harder this time. He stumbles back, lips already swollen, his eyes are wet, glossy too. Like yours.

“You are!” You yell, voice breaking, choking on your tears. “Don’t act like you haven’t been treating me differently for the past month.”

When Charlie says nothing, you continue.

“You don’t call me, you don’t text me, I only come over to babysit Henry when he’s here and when he’s in LA you just fuck me and then get mad about something and leave. When we go out you don’t look at me, you don’t touch me-” Your voice falters, you’re not sure you can go on with the way the sobs wrack through your chest and into the rest of your body. You feel weak, like you might collapse into the ground. You wish you would, you wish the floor would just swallow you up and you could disappear.

Charlie sees red. His fists shake, clenched into fists at his side after you’ve pushed him away. His palms burn to touch you. He knows he shouldn’t, he knows he should listen to what you’re saying, let you talk, remind him how much he’s been hurting you. He knows what he’s doing, he’s not stupid.

He wasn’t trying to push you away, he definitely wasn’t doing it on purpose. But he was sabotaging himself, sabotaging everything because he felt he didn’t deserve you. He was a bad father, a selfish person for wanting to take Henry away from his mother, for wanting Henry to himself, a bad person for hating Nicole, a woman he once loved.

Love.

It was all because of love wasn’t it? Charlie wants to laugh at the thought. Wants to laugh and scream and yell and hit something at the thought of stupid fucking love. Was he really becoming that nihilistic already?

Would he come to hate you like how he hates Nicole? Would you come to hate him the way he hates himself? The way Henry probably hates him? The way his parents hated him-

His knees hit a hard surface, blistering, blinding pain shooting up his legs. He’s collapsed onto the floor before he’s even aware of it. Unaware of the sobs that push and pull at his lungs, forcing his chest to heave in the oxygen before choking it back out along with spit and tears. 

He’s crying. You’re crying. Fuck, how did it come to this. This was all too familiar. He feels numb.

How could he love you when love was the scariest thing? When love was the most frightening emotion he had ever experienced. Everything that’s happened to him for the past two fucking years was because of love. Love would ruin everything. It always did. But he couldn’t…. he couldn’t lose-

“Y-you… you can’t- leave me.” He chokes, hands planted shakily on the floor, holding his upper body up, his arms weak.

You… you’ve never seen Charlie like this. And honestly? It scares you. Sure, you’ve heard him yell, scream, cry at Nicole, his lawyer over the phone. But this was different. This was visceral, burning desire, regret, shame, embarrassment… this was everything coming crashing down around him at once.

Fuck.

This is what you’ve been trying to avoid over the past month. That’s why you’ve tiptoed around him, letting him get angry, letting him yell, letting him ignore you, use you, fuck you and ask for nothing in return. You were avoiding this.

But maybe you had just prolonged the explosion? Let enough gas build up before it eventually burst into flames.

Eventually…

You had definitely made this worse, by ignoring it you’ve let it fester, let it rise and rise and rise, just pushing down the lid for your own sake. Maybe it was both of your own faults? You don’t know, you don’t care. This was bound to happen at some point. And it just so happened to be today. All you really care about is Charlie.

You kneel down on the floor in front of him, resting your palm on the floor like he has, letting your pinky finger graze against his. The slightest of touch as to not scare him off. He flinches, his head still hung low, eyes screwed shut.

You place your hand on top of his, feeling his burning skin, testing the waters. He doesn’t pull back so you continue your efforts. You intertwine your fingers with his, slowly, slowly lifting his hand up off the ground and closer to you. He still doesn’t look up. You keep moving his hand until it’s on your chest, covering your left breast. Only then does he look up, searching your eyes.

He feels it then. That same thing he felt the first time… the first time he had you. Your beating heart, pumping wildly in your chest just like his was. Did you know? Did you know what you did to him? Did you know how much he needed you, how much he thinks of you? Did you know that he… that he-

“I won’t.” You say, cutting him off mid thought. His hand clutches onto you through the fabric of your shirt, trying to reach through you and grab your heart into his hands. He wants to pull it from you, keep it for himself and lock it away, make sure you never fucking leave him. He was so selfish.

“I won’t leave you Charlie.” You say again when he says nothing, just watching his hand twist into the fabric of your shirt, tugging it strangely until he’s rid you of it. He places his hand back on your chest, feeling your heart better now through the barrier of only your flesh.

“I…. I’m sorry.” “You said you wouldn’t lie to me?” It feels like the first thing he’s said in hours, his voice rough around the edges, gooey in the middle. His post-yelling voice, you knew it too well.

“I wouldn’t.”

“Then why… why would you even say that? That you would leave me?”

“Because if that’s what you wanted, what you needed… I would do it. I would do anything you wanted, anything for you, Charlie.”

“Why?” He couldn’t understand. There was no fathamobale reason as to why he would deserve such devotion. Especially from you. 

You’re quiet, unsure of how to answer him. This was the same back and forth you both had before he exploded, when you almost told him you… that you lo-

“I-I don’t know how to answer… you told me not to say it.” You whimper, tears spilling from your eyes again. His hand comes to hold your cheek, thumb swiping away the tear. You nuzzle into his hand, kissing his palm. You stay there for a moment, resting your face in his palm, feeling his warmth radiating from his hands, letting a silence wash over the two of you. It was sort of peaceful. A chaotic peace.

“Charlie, I-”

“Don’t... don’t say it.” You cry some more, tears spilling. His hand moves to your throat, squeezing gently, you find it oddly comforting.

“But I want to, I want to say it, please.” You grab the wrist of the hand holding your throat, squeezing his flesh, asking.

“No.”

“Charlie-”

“I said no.” He grabs your jaw, shaking you from side to side a little. You whimper, eyes screwing shut, pushing more tears past the precipice. He pulls you into his lap, you’re putty in his hands, letting him move you however he needs to move you. He holds you in his arms, your legs wrap around his waist and his legs bring him to stand up somehow, his strength always shocking you.

“You can’t say it... you can’t leave.” He continues, you sniffle, hiding your face in his neck, grabbing onto his hair as he carries you somewhere through the apartment, up some stairs…

“I’m sorry, Charlie, I’m- sorry.” You hiccup and cry into his neck, wetting the skin. You press your lips over the newly wet skin, feeling his heartbeat flutter underneath, teeth grazing the thin flesh.

Suddenly he’s lowering you down, down, down until you come in contact with a soft surface, his mattress. Charlie crawls on top of you, you let him rest between your thighs, keeping your legs up high on his waist.

“Don’t ever fucking leave me.” You shake your head from side to side in agreement with him, worrying your bottom lip between your teeth. His hand trails down the length of your body roughly, burning your flesh in its unforgiving path. You’re left only in your jeans since he removed your shirt when you were still downstairs.

“I won’t, I-I didn’t mean-” You can barely form a proper sentence, choking on your own tears and sadness that wrack through your mind and body. Charlie’s hand in already palming your sex through the thick denim you wear, you whimper, trying to squeeze your thighs together but his body blocks them.

“Stop talking.” He barely gets out the words before he’s pressing his lips to yours again, letting his lips glide against your wobbly and swollen ones. You breathe each other in, letting your tongues dance across one anothers as you gasp and cry into his mouth. It’s all teeth and all tongue, it’s messy, clumsy, desperate, burning. You don’t care, he doesn’t either when your teeth clack against each other, nibbling on lips, biting sometimes.

Charlie flips you over underneath him so that you face the sheets, sliding down your body and roughly tugging down your jeans along with your underwear in one swift motion. You gasp as your wet cunt comes in contact with the cool air of the darkening day. Charlie stands on his knees behind you, pulling your ass up higher, higher, higher until he’s satisfied. His cheeks are warm, his ears pink at the peaks. Before either of you even have time to think, his hand comes down harshly onto your right ass cheek, you cry out, gripping the sheets by your head.

“Ch-Charlie!” You gasp, earning you another smack to your other cheek. You push your head down into the covers, trying to muffle your cries and moans as he keeps going.

His smacks you again, and again, and again and again until you’re a sobbing mess in the sheets. Words, languages lost to you in your muddled brain. A pool of spit near your mouth soaked into the white fabric, only a wet spot remaining to show for evidence of your euphoria. You can feel the imprint of his hand on your ass, you know it's burning red, you know the skin is raised and puffy. You fucking love it.

Charlie’s chest is heaving, breaths labored as he takes it all out on you like he knows you need it, knows you love it. He does too; love it and need it. The way your ass gets so much brighter, how big the imprint he’s left on you is. How fucking perfect you are for him... He’s pulling off his shirt before he knows it, shedding his pants too until he’s in nothing but his underwear. You’ve stayed exactly where you are, not daring to move a muscle since he hasn’t instructed you otherwise.

“So now you listen.” Charlie mutters to himself, it's barely audible to you since the blood is coursing so loudly through your veins, through your ears. You’re buzzing.

Charlie pushes you back down on the mattress so you lay completely flat. He pulls your jeans and underwear down the rest of your legs until you lay there bare before him. He inhales sharply at the sight of you. He could see the way you glisten for him, he could feel it on his hand when he had spanked you, your arousal having begun to trail down the tops of your thighs, he moaned at the sight.

His hand comes flying down, this time spanking you roughly on your pussy causing you to lurch forward into the sheets, crying out his name pathetically again. He leans over you, keeping his hand clutched tightly around your cunt, feeling your juices seep between his fingers, you moan and try to press back into his hand but he just slaps it again, your eyes screwing shut. He’s nearly got his entire weight on top of you, his hot breath fanning across your cheek as he comes close to your face.

“You’re so fucking wet for me… you want it that badly?” You nod your head vigorously.

“Yes! Yes, Charlie I want you, I-I need you so badly, please.”

“Hmmm, what do you need?”

“Anything, y-your fingers…”

“Where”

“... in me, in me please.” You’re completely desperate, your crying and sobbing from earlier making you especially weak to his ways, his voice, his body. God, he could do anything to you, and you would let him, you would beg him, you would thank him.

Slowly, Charlie sinks one thick finger into your soaking cunt. Your eyes roll into the back of your head as he pumps it slowly, in and out, in and out of you. You try and push your hips back to meet the small thrust of his finger but he keeps you pinned down.

Charlie could feel you clenching around his single digit and he groaned next to your ear, nibbling on the soft lobe as he continued his ministrations. You whined, withered underneath the weight of his body, his hot chest pressing into your back, pressing you into the mattress. 

“Charlie, please I-”

“What? You need more? You need more from me?”

“Please.” Charlie draws his index finger out of you before joining it with his middle one, probing your entrance teasingly, swirling his fingers around it but never going in.

“Fuck-”

“Do you think you deserve it?” He didn’t deserve it, didn’t deserve you, your pussy, none of it. He was only projecting his worthlessness onto you. He didn’t mean it, he couldn’t.

“N-no.” You say, tears welling in your eyes from a multitude of things. Overstimulation being one of them. You tried to get your hips to stop pressing into his hand but it was so hard when the temptation was right there.

“No… you don’t.” He kisses the tears that slip from your eye, pressing a finger to your mouth and you gladly take it in, laving your tongue around his salty, rough skin. His two fingers at your entrance finally push in deeper, causing you to cry out around his finger that was in your mouth, drool slipping past your lips.

Then he starts pumping, quickly, and you can’t stop the way your hips push into his hand, trying to meet him halfway through his thrusts, needing more so badly. You moan around his fingers, he echoes your moans back into your ear. You can feel his cock filling out, getting harder and harder against the back of your legs where it still lays confined in his underwear.

All too quickly he pulls his fingers from you and spanks your pussy again, you choke on a cry around the finger that’s still in your mouth. You’re already wrecked, and he’s nowhere near done with you.

“You only get to cum on my cock, understand?” You nod your head with vigour, eyes trying to meet his from where he’s positioned, behind you yet over top of you. You can feel him moving around, pulling his fingers from your mouth and his underwear off as best as he can without moving too far away from you.

“I understand, Charlie.” You cry, the tears unrelenting at this point, beyond your control.

Fuck, what weas he doing? Why was he doing this now?

What other way did he really have though, to show you what you mean to him? Definitely not words, no. No matter how much he writes for the theatre, words could never come close to describing what he feels for you, what he needs from you, wants from you, what he wants to give to you, tell you, provide you. None of it, no language would do.

Nothing would come closer to his body on you, in you, moving in tandem with you, hearts so close together that he loses sense of himself and just feels you wrapped so tightly around him in every sense. That’s the only way he could show you, the only way he could tell you.

He grabs his cock in his hand, pumping himself slowly and rests his head on your shoulder, groaning into your skin at the sensation. “Beg.” He spits, his lips moving against your flesh. He rubs the head of his cock against your slick folds and you yelp, pressing your hips back but he anticipated it, drawing his hips back, away from you.

“Charlie, please I-I need you so badly, I’ve never wanted… anything else but you, I just- please, I need you so bad, I-I, l...love-”

“I told you not to fucking say it.” He grits from behind clenched teeth, slapping your ass harshly and you let a sob leave your lips. The burn was so good.

“I-I’m sorry, I can’t help it-” You whine, fists bunching up the sheets with a grip so deadly your skin is turning white. He lets his head drop to your shoulder again, his own eyes screwing shut, trying to will his own tears away as he continues to run his cock along your pleading entrance, collecting whatever arousal has seeped out of you.

“Fuuuck, perfect little pussy... so desperate for my cock, isn’t it?” He mutters, almost to himself as he watches the way his cock moves between your glistening folds. Unashamed, you keep crying, moaning at the feeling of his big cock so close to where you need him most, nodding your head.

“Please, Charlie I need you inside m- fuck, just put it in, please-”

Your breath hitches in your throat as you feel him press in with the tip, letting the spongy head break through your folds and slightly dip into your entrance. Your fists clench and unclench against the sheets. With a sharp ‘fuck’ Charlie presses the rest of his long, thick cock into you, both of you moaning and breathing in one another.

He lets his cock sit in you, coming to interlock his fingers with yours, pinning your hands above your head, elongating both of your bodies but mostly yours, from how much longer his body is. Only then does he start snapping his hips into yours, letting his thrusts punch out your moans and cries from your chest.

At this angle, he’s hitting places inside of you so deep you never thought you could fathom, filling you up to the brim, you swear you can feel him in your stomach, punching your guts into your throat with every violent thrust.

You moan his name without relent, it’s the only thing you could possibly ever know. Charliecharliecharliecharliecharlie to infinity. You never wanted to know anything else, no other thought suddenly as interesting as him. He was the only thing that mattered. The way his cock filled you was dizzying, mind-numbing, and bone-shattering.

“You always need me so badly, you could never leave me, never leave this cock. Desperate little slut.” Charlie groans, head resting on your back as his powerful thrusts push you up the bed. He latches a hand around one of your hips, trying to keep you pinned down.

“You would never fucking leave me, you’d never fucking do it.” He continues, maybe to himself. You can feel him nuzzling his face into the skin on your shoulder, kissing and biting the skin, leaving a mark in his wake like he always does.

“I won’t, Charlie- I won’t, I promise.” You hiccup, his thrusts unrelenting in their assault. You could feel your release building, that bright white feeling rising inside of you. The only sounds in the room were your breathy moans, Charlie’s growls and the loud slap of skin on skin, his hips colliding with your ass every time.

“Dont ever say that s-shit again- dont ever fucking leave me. Don’t - ever. Fucking. Leave.” He growled, biting your shoulder and punctuating his words with harsher thrusts, fucking into you.

“I’m s-sorry Charlie-” You’re cut off by a sensation on your back. Hot, wet, slippery. Charlie sniffles. 

He’s crying, burning holes into your flesh as they land on your back. Your own eyes well up all over again. The pleasure of his cock deep, deep, deep inside you and the emotions flowing through both of you was overwhelming, overstimulating, your mind was going blank, you felt like you would black out.

You hear it then, his quiet cries, the way his chest shakes as he finally lets it go, lets it out. And then he’s suddenly pulling out of you, grabbing one of your ankles and one side of your hip, flipping you over quickly, hiking your legs back up around his waist and continuing his punishing, relentless pace. You moan embarrassingly loudly as you watch the way his stomach flexes into you, the way his chest tightens and constricts, the flush that spreads from in between his marvelous pecs to his cheeks, his dark wet eyes, the red that fills them, the way his eyelashes clump together, making them look longer, darker, the dark halo of hair that frames his face. Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

It was beyond you at this point, you couldn’t stop what was already put into motion.

“Oh, Charlie…” You cry, chest arching into his, your nails scraping his biceps. He moans at the pain, dropping his forehead to yours. You’ve never heard him moan like this, never seen him cry like this, never seen him so lost and completely gone in you.

Even if it was a mistake.

Even if you would regret it tomorrow.

Or five minutes from now.

Or immediately afterwards.

It was the truth, your truth. His truth. It was the only thing you could ever possibly know.

“I love you.” You cry, burning tears streaming down your cheeks. Charlie’s eyes meet yours, lost, delirious, shocked.

“You… y-you can’t.” He doesn’t tell you to stop this time. Doesn’t tell you to shut up, doesn’t tell you how dumb and pathetic it is to love him. You love him.

“I do, Charlie I-I do. Fuck, I love you so fucking much.” You whine, nails biting the skin on his back. His hips never stop, he’s fucking common sense and all things rational out of your mind. All you know is him. All you ever want to know is him, Charlie.

His chin wobbles, moans escape past his lips as he refuses to stop fucking you, his cock so fucking hard it hurts him, almost more than this. Almost more than the chant that has started to leave your lips, the floodgates have been opened and you can’t stop your confession now.

“I love you, I love you- shit, Charlie I love you, I love you so much, I love your fucking cock, fuck!” You couldn't stop, you felt like you could never stop at this point. You never wanted to stop saying it, never wanted to stop telling him. You loved him, you loved him, you loved him.

“You’re… you’re not real… you’re- fuck, too fucking good for m-me.” Charlie gasps, his hips speeding up, his cock growing harder somehow. You feel him pulse inside of you. Your eyes roll into the back of your head, mouth hanging agape, no sound being emitted from you. Charlie moves his lips down to your exposed throat, kissing and sucking on the delicate skin before wrapping a firm hand around it, not squeezing too tight.

“Yours.” You manage to choke out, gripping onto his wrist that's at your throat with all the strength you had with your body gone pleasure weak. Charlie moans your name, it makes you cry more.

“I’m yours, Charlie.” You manage to say more clearly, using all your willpower to look him in the eyes. His eyes are blown black, the dark circles underneath them so, so pigmented. You could feel the crescendo building, he was about to break. His lips were glossy, spit slicked and roughly bitten.

“You’re mine.” He confirms, more to himself than to you. He just… he felt like he could never be sure enough. Like he would never believe that you were his. That you were in love with him.

You nod your head, hands interlocking behind his head, gripping tightly into his hair.

“I’m yours, yours.” You keen, hips rolling into his as you both neared your release. His hand around your throat keeps you pinned in place as his fucks you into the mattress, moaning, groaning, crying your name. The slight added pressure makes you see stars, your pussy flutters around his cock and your back arches, pressing your chest into his but Charlie keeps you exactly where you are, your body convulsing as you cum, cum, cum around his cock, screaming his name.

“M’gonna cum, gonna f-fucking cum s-so deep inside, fill you up-”

“Please, Charlie.” You whine, dumb from the high that he continues to fuck you through, tears stained on the skin of your cheeks. You tug on his hair roughly, meeting his thrusts with a roll of your hips and that sends Charlie over the edge.

“Fhuuuck-” He lifts his head slightly, to look at you better as he splits you open one final time, his cock stilling in the deepest parts of you before he cums so fucking deep inside your pussy with the most guttural moan.

He fucks his cum back in to you until it’s seeping back out onto his cock. He groans so loudly you feel it in your bones. His hands wrap around your upper body, holding you tightly as he spins to lay on the mattress, holding your body to his chest, his cock still nestled deep inside of you.

Charlie gives you a small thrust, pushing and mixing his cum with yours one final time. You gasp and cling to him, your nails digging slightly into his muscular pec at the sensation, the delicious burn. You feel so incredibly full, so full of your Charlie. You love him.

“I lo-”

“I love you.”

Your heart must have stopped beating, your lungs, forgotten their functionality, your brain short circuited, your limbs incapacitated.

You looked up at him with those big, shiny wet eyes. You looked like a fawn, lost on the side of the road who just found someone who could help them. Someone kind, someone gentle, honest, safe, warm. Someone worth loving. He was worth loving. Charlie was worth loving.

But you already knew that.

He said it again, so low in the dark room, the dark night, eclipsed with spilled feelings and sweat, tears too. So many fucking tears. His voice so low it almost didn’t register, the deep vibrato rumbling your insides and warming you up all over again. 

He said it with you curled up on his chest, he said it again when you moved up his body to press your face into the crook of his neck, pressing your lips to his bruised skin, he said it as tears spilled from your eyes. He would say it as you fell asleep on him in the deadly hours of the night and again in the morning when you woke. He would remind you constantly, he couldn’t stop, couldn’t hold it in. Not anymore.

He would tell you he loves you a million and one times from then on, until you didn’t want to hear it from him anymore. 

tag list! @morby @shesakillerkween @gamingaquarius​ 

[tinyboxxtink]

Hey so loved your black magic series! I read your post about using REE/Rafael. I’ll read anything you write but this idea to me is RPF and kind of squicks. ☹️ Maybe if you use another character he played? Nevada?! Someone sees “Barba” doing something super bad and they’re all “omg omg” and think it’s Barba? 🤷🏻‍♀️

I hear you, I do. HOWEVER, I made a "Version" of Raul Esparza in this story that is 5 years younger, and...I hate to say it, "more" famous?

IDK I wrote a 'prototype' chapter last night, so I'm gonna put this to you. I assume/hope you're an avid reader and I can gauge the public consensus, but also I want ALL my readers to be happy!!

So here, read this and then tell me if you still find the idea "Squicky".

That goes for anyone else! Maybe I should put my tag list in here....

The way I wrote him though anon, I truly feel in my heart that it's not RPF, because like I said RPF freaks me out as well.

Before you already go in skeptical, let me set up the plot I had planned. {As told to @madamsnape921 in an IM:

the thing was gonna start that someone sees Rafael proposing to the reader, and tells a tabloid that Raul Esparza is engaged to some rando. Because they think that it was him. And then Rafa, the reader and Chloe start to discuss on how either it's a multiverse thing, or a doppelganger thing because it turns out that Rafael and Raúl are very similar, like personality traits and the Broadway dream, except that Raul's childhood was basically the opposite of Rafael's so Chloe THINKS that Raul is Rafael from a "multiverse".

Right and then Raul goes to Rafael's office to confront him and then the reader and Chloe are there to take Rafael out to lunch and they're like holy shit!

And Rafael is super uncomfortable with the idea of the reader EVER being in a show with Raul because obviously they're like the same person and Raul probably has more in common with her

Oh and also Raul is five years younger, and thinner. So then Raul's like you shouldn't listen to him, I could really help you with your career.

Annnnd that's all I have so far.

Okay so read this really and tell me you honest opinion.

Screw it putting the tag list:

Tag List

@madamsnape921

@lolliepopsicle

@chasingeverybreakingwave

@milkshqke

@wanniiieeee

@word-scribbless

@gibbs274

@sassyada

@aprildecker-blog

@bookishfanfic

@stars-in-the-skies-world

@stars-trash-18

@omgsuperstarg

You were walking towards the exit of Central Park hand in hand with your now fiancee, when all of a sudden two giggling girls came running up to you.

“Oh my god!!!!! Raul we didn’t know you had a girlfriend!” One of them started squealing.

“Fiancee,” He corrected. “Wait I’m sorry, what? Did you just call me Raul?”

“Uh...yeah, duh,” One of the girls made a face. “Raul Esparza?”

“What?” You bursted out laughing. “I’m sorry, you think he’s Raul Esparza?”

“Um, we know he is,” The other one crossed her arms.

“Um, no he isn’t!” You wrapped your arm around Rafael protectively, as if the two girls were going to kidnap him or something.

“I can promise you ladies, I am not-- whoever you just said,” Rafael assured them.

“Why are you doing this? Are you trying not to embarrass your lady friend here?” One of the girls made a weird face at you.

“Wha? No--” Rafael tried to defend himself but the girls were already clearly ticked off.

“Wow, I have heard of actors trying to get away from fans but completely pretending to be another person, that’s pretty low Raul,” One of them glared at Rafael.

“Yeah, it wouldn’t have taken you much effort to just take a selfie with us,” The other one added with a scowl.

“I...um--” He looked to you for help, but you just shrugged. You had no idea how to handle such a weird situation.

“I guess we can take one--” He offered.

“Oh no, forget it now,” One girl scoffed.

“Yeah, jerk!” The other one stomped her foot and they both sauntered away angrily.

-----------

“...What the hell was that?” Rafael looked at you in utter confusion and disbelief, you just gave him a “wtf” smile.

“I have no idea baby--”

“Oh my god, are you guys ok?” Chloe suddenly came running up behind you. “What the hell did those teeny boppers want? To rob you with water guns or something?”

“No they-- they wanted a selfie?” Rafael was still confused, trying to figure out what just happened.

“A selfie? With you?” Chloe snorted.

“No-- With Raul Esparza,” You looked at her with a confused smile. It was pretty entertaining to think that your fiance looked like a Broadway star.

“I don’t get it, you said that I didn’t even look like him!” Rafael looked at you.

“I mean I said I didn’t see it, and that you were more handsome,”

“....Yeah well you might wanna rethink that answer babe,” Chloe’s eyes were wide as she handed you her phone. She had googled RAUL ESPARZA, and the images that popped up were-- Rafael’s face.

“Oh my God…” You whispered, showing Rafael the phone. He quickly pulled out his own and started searching for himself. You handed Chloe back her phone and did the same. Pages and pages of articles about Raul Esparza’s shows, and accelaides, and all with Rafael's face plastered all over them.

“He’s….me,” Rafael whispered in horror.

“He looks more like you than you do!” You teased, he looked at you with a very serious face. Clearly he was not ready to joke about this yet.

“Holy shit. This is some multiverse shit,” Chloe muttered as she went through her Google search.

“Excuse me?” You asked her.

“You know, the multiverse theory? There’s an infinite amount of universes in every decision anyone ever makes.”

“Meaning…?” Rafael asked.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Chloe raised an eyebrow. “Raul could be Rafael, if he hadn’t given up on his Broadway dream,”

“Oh my god,” Rafael started laughing. “Chloe, did you get loaded in the park or something?”

“Oh okay, so you have a better idea, big brain lawyer?” She crossed her arms.

“He might not, but I do,” You piped up, showing her your phone.

“Doppelgangers?” Chloe read with a face.

“Yes, it’s a fact that there are 5 people in the world with the EXACT same face,” You continued reading.

“And he just happens to live in New York, where Rafael lives? AND is on Broadway, the one thing Rafael gave up?”

“Look sure it’s a million to one shot that those events would line up, but what’s more plausible: Doppelganger or ‘Multiverse’?” You looked at Chloe, who looked at Rafael, so you turned to Rafael as well.

“...Wha--are you asking me?” He asked.

“I mean it is your face,” You shrugged. “What do you think, baby?”

“I’m leaning towards a doppelganger, sorry Chloe,” He shrugged as well.

“Yeah well, you’re probably right,” Chloe nodded as she read her own phone, still on Raul Esparza info. “Most likely because he’s five years YOUNGER than you,”

“WHAT?!” Rafael grabbed her phone; as he read it, his face fell. “Oh God, no…”

“Wha--What does it matter how old he is, Rafa?” You furrowed your brows.

“Or the fact that he’s clearly thinner and more attractive,” Chloe added with a smirk.

“CHLOE,” You scolded her. “What the ever loving fuck?”

“Well, I’m just saying-- Look at them side by side,” Chloe had a photo of Rafael from some mayor’s ball next to Raul Esparza at the Tonys, both in tuxedo’s. You wouldn’t admit to Rafael but Raul was definitely thinner, and...he looked a lot younger. It was probably Botox or something you were sure, but still….

“Okay but again WHY does it matter--?” You wanted to change the subject.

“Are you kidding me? Y/N-- This is what you want to do!” He gestured to Chloe’s phone.

“....I don’t want Raul--” You started.

“No, you want to be on Broadway though!! And, and what if someday, God forbid, you end up in a show with this guy? He clearly already has a leg up on me compatibility wise, and as Chloe so kindly pointed out, a leg up on me age and attractiveness wise, and--” Rafael started ranting and rambling, talking lightening fast, as he did when he got upset or excited.

“Whoa whoa whoa whoa, back up there counselor,” You put up a hand to his face. “Are you actually insinuating that if I worked with Raul Esparza, that I would magically fall in love with him?”

“Don’t say it like that,” Rafael was triggered by the mention of magic and love.

“Okay but I’m not even saying ‘magic’ magic, I’m just saying-- What do you think because he’s an actor, and younger than you I’m just going to think I’m better off with him? Just because he has your face?” You gave him a small “oh honey” smile as you placed your hands on either of his face.

“No, but if you have to play his love interest, and you spend every day with him, it might blur the lines--” He started grumbling.

“Rafael, baby--” You shook his head in your hands. “I am still in SCHOOL. I am nowhere NEAR being in a Broadway show as a freaking techie, let alone a love interest starring opposite Raul Esparza,”

“Yeah, I mean this guy is huge-- 3 Tonys, 2 Emmys, an Oscar--” Chloe rattled off, but stopped when she realized you were glaring at her. “What? I’m helping!”

“...See? He’s far too famous for me,” You pressed your forehead to Rafael’s.

“Right, and I’m just the lowly ADA,” He muttered.

“Lowly my ass, Rafa,” You hit him playfully. “You are the most respected ADA in all of New York,”

“I’m the only ADA of New York,” He made a face.

“Not true! Just the city,” You beamed, proud of yourself you did some research once you had gotten together.

“My point is Rafael,” You now put your hands on his collar and pulled yourself into him. “You are all the acclaim I need,” You kissed him softly. “You’re my everything, I mean for fuck’s sake you just held a one man flash mob to propose to me! Let’s Raul Esparza do THAT,” You laughed, hoping to make him feel better. As his scowl melted into a smile, you knew you had succeeded.

“That was pretty romantic wasn’t it?” He beamed, proud of himself.

“It was EPIC,” Chloe chimed in, for good this time.

“Your voice is beautiful by the way,” You had forgotten in the midst of all of the romantic hubbub to compliment him. “I’m really sorry you had to give up Broadway,”

“Yeah, well-- apparently some part of me didn’t,” He gestured to his phone.

“Well he doesn’t have me,” You pointed out.

“He doesn’t know what he’s missing.” Rafael grinned as he pulled you into a deep kiss.

“Now can we please just forget about--” You hesitated, deciding not to mention his name again. “Anything else, and just focus on our engagement night?”

“Well, I suppose--” He nodded as he put an arm around you, and the three of you continued to walk through the park.

-------

Across town in a swanky New York Penthouse, an alert went off on Raul Esparza’s phone. He had it set to notify him any time his name appeared in a headline on the internet. He glanced over and picked it up, reading the notification. As he read it, his eyes widened and his face grew red. He stood up and yelled to no one in particular,

“Who the FUCK is trying to impersonate me?!”

[kodzumie-archived]

I want to submit this anonymously but I can’t rn so oh well,

I had an idea last night for Shuichi with an Ultimate Lawyer S/O so this is sort of a oneshot (yes I used the argument from Ace Attorney Im not creative with law shit)

I wanted to write this genderneutral but I’m insecure about my writing style and I’m used to writing female Mc’s so apologise for that

Also also forgive any spelling or grammar mistakes I’m super dyslexic

Anyway anyway I’m rambling enjoy my brain rot- 👑! Anon

If you ever asked Shuichi Saihara what his thoughts were on trials he'd tell you he hated them. He hated everything about them. Fully believing in the person he was defending only for them to turn around and reveal some truth they hid making him look an idiot.

Trials truely brought out the worst in people in Shuichi's opinion.

Speaking of the detective right at the moment he was enjoying one of his rare quiet moments, sitting outside the courtroom he sighed deeply, this was his least favourite part of solving a case; for some reason part of being the ultimate detective meant he had to appear in court with his client. He wasn't exactly their lawyer but he did play a big part in defending them, But that wasn't the big reason he hated trails, His wallowing in self pity was interrupted when the very reason he was thinking about walked past him and made her way towards the vending machine nearby.

(Y/N) (L/N) The Ultimate Lawyer, anyone that manages to get her to defend them is 100% guaranteed to get cleared of all their charges or at least a very light sentence. And for some reason almost everyone she agreed to defend involved his clients in some way and therefore him.

And he could never win.

No matter how many arguments he and his client had she could take them all down easily, He hated having all the attention on him, everyone at school knew it too, But whenever the two of them were in the courtroom everyone there knew they were in for a show.

He stayed hunched on the seat for a few seconds, waiting wondering if she didn't notice him he could stay outside a little longer. Keeping his stare on her she realised Instead of her usual suit he couldn't help but notice she was wearing a pencil skirt today ending below her knees, everything about her screamed professionalism. He didn't even realise he was staring until she was suddenly standing right in front of him. nothing was said and instead they both just maintained eye contact. Before she turned around and made her way back inside.

He would never understand her.

He wondered if this process could speed up a bit. He hated the courtroom, the smells, the people, the noises, that's why he always watched her he told himself. He kept his eyes on her because she was the only interesting thing there. They way she moved, the passion in her voice when she talked, how she always kept her cool no matter what was thrown at her.

"And that's why your honour my client is innocent"

"Objection!" Shuichi found himself standing up, he'd been listening to every word that had left her mouth, and thanks to that he'd heard something that didn't add up

"(L/N), your client said he found the body 9:30, correct?"

She looked at him, instead of anger or annoyance her eyes held an excitement he'd never seen her have in the courtroom before.

"That is correct Mr Saihara,"

Standing up straight, in a complete reversal of their position before she sat in a seat while he stood tall.

"But there was a blackout, and since we know your client didn't have their phone on them since they ran downtown to call the police correct? So how did they know the time?"

The client decided to speak up

"I- I heard the time on the tv"

"But there was a blackout, so how would the tv be on?"

They opened their mouth

"A-Actually it wasnt the tv, it was the clock!"

Shuichi objected again;

"the murder weapon that had been accepted into evidence earlier was a statue, not a clock"

You were the one who revealed that The Thinker statue did indeed double as a clock; by tilting it, it spoke the time after.

However, Shuichi refused to back down now, and with the look in your eyes as your stared at him made him want to continue.

"there was no way your client could have known about the clock function without having held it in his own hand. The reason that you knew the time was because he was the real killer. As he killed Stone, the clock announced the time, leaving a strong impression on him."

Shuichi spoke, every word held a confidence to it he'd never felt in the courtroom before, and as he stared at (Y/N), her expression for a split second looked shocked, and he thought for once he'd finally put her down a peg, before her face twisted into a smug grin.

"Mr Saihara you seem different today" leaning on her hand her gaze was focused on him, like she didn't even care that she was losing the case at all. Shuichi didn't understand this side of (Y/N). From every argument he'd ever seen in this courtroom she knew every detail and every loophole, she always had a fire inside her and a determination to help her clients, so why was she staring at him like that? The in her gaze that usually appeared when she argued was now fully directed at him.

Her client, infuriated at Shuichi's ruining of his testimony, began to breakdown on the stand, discarding his sycophantic demeanor and angrily throwing his toupee at Wright's face.

This was once of the rare times her client was guilty, but she didn't seem to be affected at all. Outside the courtroom and crouching in front of the vending machine grabbing your snack she didn't seem phased at all when the Ultimate Detective appeared behind her.

"Hey there Saihara"

"What the hell was that?" He spoke, standing up and leaning against the machine she tried to look innocently at him but the wide smirk on her face betrayed her.

"That was not like you at all (L/N), I know damn well you saw the same discrepancy in your clients testimony I did"

Placing your finger up to your lip you feigned innocence

"Did I? Maybe I didn't notice"

"There's no way, your the Ultimate Lawyer, that case should've been child's play" Shuichi frowned, his tone getting louder as he got more annoyed

She laughed, "truth be told Saihara I knew he was guilty since the start"

Shuichi recoiled the tiniest bit at that news, his eyes widening slightly before he regained his composure,

"Then why did you take the case?"

Walking toward she stopped till she was a few steps from pressing her body against the detective who was at that point hide How activity flustered he was. Her hand slipped into his pocket and she left something light in there before leaning to his ear

"Why do you think I take all the cases I know you'll be at shu-i-chi" she whispered, dragging out his first name before walking away, a flounce to her step. Only when she was out of his view he remembered she had slipped something into his pocket, grabbing it and pulling it out to inspect it his face bursted into fifty different shades of red.

'This must've been why you'd worn a skirt today' he thought as he hurried to find a seat on the train so he could get home, trying to inconspicuously place his hat in a specific way on his lap.

He really wanted to get home now. He had something he needed to do.

⤷ Kodzumie; INCREDIBLE!! THIS IS AMAZING, WAAHH..!! I CAN’T EXPRESS HOW HYPED AND EXCITED I GOT DURING THE TRIAL AND THE CONTRADICTION, IT WAS AMAZING!!

AAAH, THE PACING OF EVENTS WAS LITERALLY PERFECT, MY ADRENALINE WAS PUMPING THROUGH IT ALL AAHH!! I LOVE, LOVE, LOVE HOW EVERYTHING PLAYED OUT AND THE NARRARATION!!

THIS IS WRITTEN WONDERFULLY, I ADORE THE STYLE OF NARRATIVE YOU USED!! IT FELT SO RAW; SO PURE OF EMOTION AND PERCEPTION!!

I LITERALLY ADORE THE PERSONALITY YOU’D GIVEN THE READER, THEY WERE SO FUN TO TUNE IN TO!! AND, AAHH, THE ULTIMATE LAWYER IS TRULY SO INTRUIGING, ESPECIALLY PAIRED WITH SHUICHI!!

I CAN’T EXPRESS HOW MUCH I LOVED THIS!! SERIOUSLY, IT’S ACTUALLY SO, SO, SOOOO GOOD!! WAAH..!!

DO..! DO YOU HAVE A WRITING BLOG? YOUR WRITING IS SO WONDERFUL, I GENUINELY ADORE THIS ONE-SHOT SO MUCH!! I’D LOVE TO SUPPORT YOUR WORKS, IF YOU’RE COMFORTABLE ENOUGH!!

THIS IS AMAZING!! WAAAH, I LOVE YOUR WRITING WITH MY WHOLE HEART!!

[consumedkings-archive]

things you were afraid to say + elliot x john xx

tysm babes!!! i had fun finagling this one a bit--set in a pre-cult (or maybe no cult?) au and with a splash of christmas for the holidays 💖 ~1.7k (i’m sorry it’s so long these two idiots share one brain cell and they use it entirely for talking shit to each other)

blue, baby ✤ no-cult au

honeyseed + things you were afraid to say

word count: ~1.7k im sorry

warnings: none! just these two fools being themselves

It was exactly the time of year that John Seed liked to come and get in her way.

Elliot was not a woman easily won over, especially after a breakup; these things were gravely permanent to her, sometimes in a fatalistic way that Joey often said was too hard to be constructive anymore. The only exception to the rule had been John Seed—wealthy, spoiled lawyer who spent maybe a little too much time in front of a mirror to be the kind of guy that Elliot usually went for. They had dated on and off non-seriously for a few months, and then “seriously” (which Elliot always put in quotes, because the only person who seemed to take it serious was her) for another six months, followed by a series of get-togethers and break-ups that were instigated by both sides in equal amounts.

So, yes; John Seed was not the kind of man that Elliot usually went for—and this meant that he was the exception to all of her rules, across the board.

His favorite time to come sweeping back in was the holidays. She had her theories as to why; they included, namely, that John would be attending family dinners with his brothers and sister, and couldn’t stand the idea that he’d be showing up alone. He also knew that Elliot’s mother would be hounding her to come and celebrate Christmas at her house—which was fine (“fine”), but made her acutely aware of the parental failings of her absentee father and alcoholic mother.

This was why as soon as Elliot opened the front door of her house and saw John standing there in his stupid turtleneck and dumb fucking shades, and he said, “Hey there, beautiful,” she slammed the door in his face.

Or rather, tried to; John knew her as well as she did him, now, and he jammed one booted foot into the way before the door could get closed. There was that infuriatingly charming, boyish grin on his face. “Was it something I said?”

“More your existence in my space,” Elliot snipped back, narrowing her eyes. “If anyone else stuck their foot in my door they’d be incapacitated.”

“I know,” John said in the way that she hated—because he was right. He did know. “But you wouldn’t do that to me.”

Elliot made a non-committal noise, to leave room for uncertainty. John hesitated, just for a second, and he inched his knee past the door.

“Invite me in, baby, it’s freezing out,” he purred. Elliot hated the way that his voice made her skin prickle with a strange anticipation, a craving. It was why John had become her exception; everything he did, his pet names and the way his hands had to always be on her, reverent, covetous—they were things she had never known that she wanted until John did them, and now if anyone else did those things, they felt cheap. Nothing like the real deal, John had said once, when she’d muttered it into his neck at night.

“What are you, a vampire?” Elliot scoffed. “Use your two grown man legs and walk in yourself.”

“Just trying to be polite.”

She released the pressure she was holding on the door and let him in; a chilly breeze had wafted in, bringing with it some dredges of snow as well, and goosebumps prickled along her skin. John shut the door behind him, shrugging out of his coat, taking a quick glance around the living room. The details of her evening were laid out quite clear; a bottle of wine, a barely-touched bowl of popcorn, the paused Christmas movie on the TV. As soon as he stepped out of his shoes and sidled after her, Boomer barked from his bed in delight. His tail wagged excitedly, but he waited—ever obedient—until Elliot said, “Alright, then,” and he went racing to John.

“Exciting night?” John asked casually, knelt down to rub Boomer’s ears with as much politeness as he could muster. “I see you’ve invested yourself into Hallmark Christmas.” The words left his mouth with a degree of disdain, which was not lost on her. Stupid fucker couldn’t resist being a pompous asshole even in her own house, huh?

“Actually, yes, I was having a very nice evening,” she huffed, tucking her legs up under her as she settled on the couch. He laughed, giving Boomer a few of the big pats that the dog really liked and she continued, “What do you want, John?”

The question made the brunette pause. He looked frustratingly attractive, in his black turtle neck and slacks, his shades tucked up into his hair. He came and sat next to her on the couch; Elliot turned so that her back was against the arm and she was facing him head-on. No room for shenanigans.

“I miss you, El,” John said, and she groaned, rolling her eyes.

“Shut the fuck up.” Her cheeks felt red already; the earnestness in his voice was enough to make her heart stutter painfully in her chest. “You don’t know how many times you’ve said those exact words to me in this exact situation—”

“Four or five,” he admitted. He propped his arm up on the top of her knee and leaned into her a little bit, until her eyes narrowed. “Don’t look at me like that. Didn’t you miss me too?”

Yes, she thought, but the idea of saying the words out loud made her stomach lurch with dread. It was too easy for John to do that to her—plunge her straight into the kinds of things that wadded the fear up high and desperate in her throat, things like I missed you and I want you and I love you.

So she didn’t say any of those things, even though they were all certainly true and even though she certainly felt them, regardless of whether they were broken up or not. Instead, she said, “What is there to miss, John Seed?”

Of course I missed you.

One of his hands went to cover his heart. The silver rings that he favored glittered, reminding her that she had also never liked a man who accessorized quite like John, either, until he’d come along. Now, she found herself hopelessly attracted to brunettes with ear piercings and Gucci shades and silver rings and tattoos that answered to the name John.

“Elliot Honeysett, you’ve mortally wounded me. I hope you’re happy with yourself.” He leaned back against the couch, watching her with his eyes—infuriatingly blue—before he cracked that boyish grin at her. “I mean it, El, I did miss you. I meant it those other times and I mean it now.”

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes again. “That’s nice of you to say, but I don’t know what you want me to do with this information.” Warily, she eyed him. “And you are notorious for saying nice things.”

John flashed his teeth in a wolfish grin that did very little to inspire confidence in her. “I want,” he replied, the pad of his thumb dragging along the inside of her knee, “for you to say it back.”

“No,” Elliot replied instantly, out of instinct. “Fuck you.”

“So prickly.” He leaned in, having sidled between her legs, and reached up; his fingers traced the slope of her jaw. “I know that our undeniable and instantaneous connection is scary for you—”

She warned, “You are within perfect punching range.”

“—but more than anything,” John continued, voice pitching low into a murmur, “all I want is to hear you say you missed me too.”

They were all there, inside of her—collected up, gathered up and packed away for later, those things that would have made him happy if she said them. I missed yous and I love yous and I want yous. Collecting dust from misuse, because the only person that made her want to say those things was also the person that made her afraid to say them at all.

“El,” John murmured. “I can hear those little gears of your turning.”

“You make me so fucking mad,” she replied, the words trying to stick in her throat on their way out of her mouth. Her chest felt tight; all of the alarm bells in her head kept ringing, screaming at her to stop, but John was close and leaning closer and he was so warm and the smell of his cologne was washing over her and—

It didn’t matter how many times he said the words. They always hit the same chords within her, and they always made her want him with every inch of her being. It was all Elliot really ever wanted; for someone to want her, to crave her, to jealously covet her like she was something to be treasured. John was always very good at that—unpacking her, pulling her thread until she unraveled, to dig down into the nitty-gritty of what she actually wanted the most.

But Joey, Elliot would have to say when inevitably this came up in their next phone call, he smelled so good when he said it to me, and he called me baby, and held my face the way he knows I like.

“I did,” she managed out, feeling that little adrenaline-drop she got every time she let herself even start thinking about saying something like this to him, like the plunge of a rollercoaster. “Of course I missed you, you fuckhead.”

John leaned in and kissed her, and she could feel him grinning against her mouth; his fingers carded through her hair and then gripped at the base of her skull so he could kiss her again. Mistake, something in her said. Big fucking mistake. But it was too late; she knew how this song and dance went.

“Of course,” he agreed, and sounded quite pleased with himself. “I know how hard it is for you to admit it—”

“I’ll take it back.” She pulled back to narrow her eyes at him, even though she was sure she didn’t look very scary at all, knowing that he could hear how fast her heart was beating. “If I find out you tell one single person—”

“No need,” John assured her against her mouth. “I’ll keep it just between us.”

[startreckobsessed]

You want request? How about Bones, or his girlfriend, or maybe both of them, being suspicious about the fidelity of the other. Like really suspicious, make em look like they are really cheating (but they are not). Then they fight, like really fight, borderline breakup. But at the end, they make up. You can make it smut at the end, where partner A (the one who we thought was cheating) says to partner B that everything he/she has is hers/his. EVERYTHING. 😉😉😉😉 I’ll be waiting, love.

The road to the relationship had been rocky from the beginning, you both bickered constantly, but he had this deep seated fear down to his bones that he wouldn't be good enough for you. It was bad enough that there was a good chunk of an age gap, but you had to be witty, charming and you held a kind of beauty that attracted every kind of attention.

Now, Jocelyn never exactly cheated on him, but she did little things that would chip away at his self image; the way her eyes would linger on other men and act dissatisfied with him when they went home at the end of the night, not to mention how her lawyers raked him through the coals claiming he was an absent partner when in reality he had made long drives and days at a time without sleep to spend time with her during medical school and his residency.

Sometimes his past experiences colored the way he saw your actions, his imagination going crazy with how bad the situation looked, even of you acting suspicious didn't help any.

You had grown... Distant, lately. You would get up earlier and return extremely late. You were also careful with your words, thinking more before you spoke. Your mind was always elsewhere when you were together.

The implications he came to made his stomach turn. You were more than just his girlfriend, you were his best friend, his confidant. He would feel so lost without your support.

A little like he was feeling right now.

It wasn't until his weekly drink with Jim that his fears were confirmed.

Jim had been late, which wasn't abnormal but he was really late. Leonard was tired, eyelids heavy and his body ached, he decided to go back to your shared quarters to get some shut eye.

As he was making his way down the long winding hall he heard a bump coming from one of the many medical supply closets. He rolled his eyes, pausing for a second debating if he even wanted to go bust a couple of ensigns about to get it on. With a huff he turned, twisting open the knob and-

His breath caught, heart stuttering painfully.

It was you. Sitting up on the counter, ensign Hennricks standing between your legs. One of his hands was resting on your knee, the other was pushing the hair away from your face.

A strangled noise escaped his lips, he turned on his heel and sped down the hall. "Len!" You call, hopping off the table and chased after him, just catching a glimpse of him disappearing around the corner.

You shot forward, skidding around and finally catching up, grasping his bicep and spinning him around, but he wouldn't look at you. His eyes looked toward the ground, nostrils flared and mouth turned in a deep frown. He ripped his arm away from your hold. "Leonard,-that wasnt-" "don't." He growled. "Don't try to lie to me." His accent thickened with emotion. "How could you?" You shook your head "I'm not lying Len. If you would just-" "no." He hisses "I'm done with you. You knew how hard it was for me to- to trust again. You knew it and you still-" he pinched his eyes closed, a tear dripping down his cheek. You felt a pang of guilt go through you. And you felt like you couldn't breath. He turned away from you, and in a moment of clarity you reached for his head and turned it toward you.

"Leonard! Look at me!" You demand. His red eyes met yours for a brief second but it was enough for him to finally see the gash that traveled over your eyebrow and just shy of your eye. "What happened?" He asked in a gravely tone before he could think better to. Your other hand came up to cradle his face as his teary blood shot eyes roamed your face, now seeing a fresh bruise on your jaw. "Hennricks was patching me up, using a tissue regenerator so you wouldn't worry. I-ive been in training to become SSO." His eyebrows shot up incrediously "Why didn't you just tell me?"

You bit your lip. "I wanted to prove to myself that I could do it. And.." "and what?" "I uh, I didn't want you to be disappointed if I couldn't do it. I know it bothers you that were not exactly on equal ground, that if our stations were level mabey you would feel more secure and.. people would stop assuming I'm sleeping my way to the top." He huffed slightly, one brow arching "who's been assuming?" You shake your head at his protectiveness, swallowing thickly. "It doesn't matter." You say.

He sighed " did you get the promotion?" You shrug "won't know till tommorow." He nods, avoiding your eyes again. "I'm sorry." You say. "For... Making you think I would ever want

Anyone but you Len. Your it for me, your everything for me." He blinked away a new onslaught of tears. You smile sadly, leaning in and pressing a kiss to his lips.

He sighs into the kiss, the stress melting from his body as he winds his arms around you, pressing lips more firmly to yours as your hands ball up in his uniform shirt, pulling his body closer to yours.

When you both stumble into your room, the lights are out, only the faint blue glow of the rooms control panel allowing you to see the faint outline of the bed.

The matress dipped as you fell back onto it, Leonard's hands roamed under your skirt, the other cradled your jaw as your lips collided over and over.

Your hands slipped under his shirt, fingers trailing over his heated skin. He shivers, hands leaving you to rip his shirt up over his head. You bite your lip, your neck getting hot as he does the same with yours. Slower, gentler and almost reverently as he underssed you until you were both bare.

Your hand traveled down his abdomen, brushing against the tip of his erect cock. His nostrals flared as your hand drifted further, wrapping around his shaft. Your thumb swiped over his tip, spreading his pearly white precum. You pumped him gently, your right hand focused on the tip as you massaged him. He was somewhat hunched over you, arms caging you in on both sides of the bed. You let go of him for a moment to steer him onto his back on the bed with you on your stomach between his legs. You wrapped your hand around his shaft.

You looked straight into his glazed hazel eyes as you took the base of his shaft into your mouth. Your tounge swirling as you sucked. A gutteral sound escaped his throat and his hands gripped the sheets,heels digging into the mattress. You smirked slightly, you always loved pulling sounds like that out of him.

Your mouth traveled up and down until his cock was slick and shining from your spit, his body growing tenser and tenser as his orgasm built. Suddenly he pulled you off of his cock, pulling your lips to his again with a growl, manuvering you to roll under him as he hovers above you. He gripped his wet cock, rubbing it over your clit and entrance teasingly. You moan and buck your hips as he rubs the tip up and down between your folds. Half of you wanted him to never stop doing what he was doing, the feeling of his cock dragging over your clit felt amazing, the other half wanted him to plow into you. You whined at the intensity of the sensations. "You like that?" He murmured. You nodd franticlly. "Have to remember that." He murmurs before slowly sinking into you. Your breath caught, savoring the feeling of being filled so deliciously. Your eyes squeesed shut. His fingers caught your chin. "Feel good darlin'?"

You nodded, brain too hazy to form coherent words. You opened your eyes and shuttered as he shifted inside you. You gripped his shoulders and pushed him to sit back against the wall as you sat on top of his lap, cock still buried deep inside of you. Your hands rest on his shoulders, one of your hands coming to rest against his cheek as you slowly started to move your hips, milking his cock.

His mouth drops open slightly, hands landing to rest on your hips and all he can do is watch your breasts move along with your labored breathing. After a few minutes his head bangs back against the wall, hands gripping your hips tighter as his eyes clench shut, and hot streams of cum exploding inside of you. You gasp, the twitching and warmth of his cock paired with your thrusts causing your orgasm to rip through you, almost violently.

As you both come down from. The high, You both still, your breathing stilling as he softens inside you, and you climb off. He lays down beside you, arm wrapping around your waist as he presses a kiss to your brow.

"Im sorry." He says into the darkness. You shake your head "your everything to me, Len. Everything." You say before you both settle in, falling asleep.

Fin.

[thewhumperinwhite]

FBI AU: Painkillers

Reasonable Question: hey Beau, where tf are your other wips right now why are you only posting this one? Answer: I have homework, and this is the only one I have pre-written :-)

@whumpitywhumpwhump bc ur comments are the only thing keeping me going at this stage lmao

TW for: explicitly referenced noncon, drugs, referenced domestic abuse, Various Medical Things, Cops

They want to take Simon off the case, which is actually kind of--fine with him at this point. The downside is that it takes some wrangling to get him in to see the kid when he wakes up, but Simon’s been working for the Bureau for long enough that when the people in charge see the look on his face, they let him through, even if they’re not sure they should.

He isn’t sure what he’s expecting. Rona said the kid was lucid, but to be honest it seems like too much to hope for. He certainly isn’t expecting him to turn away from the Agent taking his statement to look at him with surprised recognition and rasp, “Hey, you’re not dead.”

Simon stares at him, aware that the duty officer--it’s Gus Chase, he realizes with the very small part of his brain not occupied with complete astonishment--is staring between him and the kid, startled.

“You--remember me?” Simon says, alarmed; the best case scenario would be that the kid remembers as little as possible, though maybe not for the case.

Heinrich Arthur Lange nods, a slight movement but still kind of mind-blowing; he’s limp against the pillow but the bed is angled upward and apparently his statement is making enough sense that Gus is taking it down, though he looks kind of green, poor guy.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt,” he says, mostly to Gus, who shakes his head.

“A break might be good for both of us,” Gus says in his soft voice, and makes kind of a hasty exit.

“He seems nice,” Heinrich Arthur Lange says to Simon. His voice is a little mushy, because of how fucked up his lips are, but he doesn’t sound like he’s had a stroke.

Simon sits down. He isn’t sure he can talk yet.

“Tenor had a gun,” Heinrich Arthur Lange says, still sounding like the only obstacle to his speaking clearly is his torn-up mouth. “I figured he’d shot you.”

Simon shakes his head. Then he remembers that Tenor Bradshaw did, actually, shoot him, and he tries to clear the weird lump in his throat, though he doesn’t quite succeed. “He missed,” he rasps.

Heinrich Lange huffs faintly, and after a second Simon realizes to his complete bewilderment that he’s laughing. “Lucky,” he says.

“Lange,” Simon says, and the kid’s exposed eye flashes.

“Art,” he corrects immediately. Simon blinks. That name hadn’t occurred to him, though he realizes he doesn’t know where a person could go with “Heinrich.”

“Art,” Simon says, then has to stop to figure out what comes next. “You seem--you feel okay?”

Art makes that little airless huffing sound again; laughter when your throat and lips are swollen, Simon guesses. “I’m fucking blazed, pretty sure,” he says, almost conspiratorially.

It startles Simon into a smile, though it feels strange on his face. “I guess you must be. You should be hurting like hell, kid.”

Art glances down at himself; his arm is still in its sling and his leg is elevated so it doesn’t shift. “Yeah,” he says, like none of that is distressing at all. “I hear you got ‘im, though, so. Not that big a deal. And--is Tenor dead?”

Simon nods eagerly, since the kid sounds like it’s good news; it is good news.

Art smiles crookedly; it looks small and out of place under the cannula in his nose and Simon’s heart does a weird squeezing thing in his chest. “Nice,” Art says, and his hand twitches unbelievably into probably the best thumbs-up he can manage, though it seems to be a mistake. “Ouch,” he says, wincing and spreading his hand back out slowly. “He was a fucking creep. He got harder every time I screamed. Hope it hurt.” He says this without any change of expression. “Did he break my hip?”

Simon, who is beginning to feel like he’s having an out-of-body experience, nods helplessly.

“Bastard,” Art says calmly. “Hey, what’s your name, again?”

“Simon,” Simon says with numb lips. “Blake.”

“Cool. Did you kill him?” Art looks at him guilelessly, though the question makes all the air rush out of Simon’s lungs. He knows he must make some kind of face, though Art doesn’t seem to notice. Finally he forces himself to shake his head.

“My partner,” he croaks.

“Cool,” Art says again, almost grinning. “I don’t remember him.”

“Her,” Simon corrects without thinking. Then, still not thinking, he asks, “What do you remember, Art?”

Art looks up at the ceiling, thoughtfully. “I remember most of it, I’m pretty sure. You can ask your buddy, I think I got to the part where they kidnapped us already. He said I could see Karim once I gave my statement.” Art looks over at him, and Simon wrestles his face back under control. “He’s okay, right?” Art asks easily, he clearly already knows the answer, so he isn’t put off by the jerkiness of Simon’s nod. He relaxes back against the pillows, smiling dreamily up at the ceiling. 

“That’s so great,” Art said. “I’m so glad it worked.”

“What worked, Art?” Simon says, his voice sounding weirdly quiet over the sick pounding of his heart in his ears.

“He was in a cult, y’know,” Art says. “He didn’t know he was in a cult. He didn’t believe me when I told him, but he was starting to when they killed me--when they tried to kill me, I guess.” He frowns thoughtfully. “I wonder if Micah meant to do that. If he didn’t kill me on purpose. I guess he might have wanted to keep fucking me,” Art says, like it doesn’t mean anything. Simon puts his hand over his mouth, trying to breathe through his nose; he feels a sudden deep sympathy for Karim Mun, puking all over his hospital sheets; Micah Trent nearly tore this boy in half.

Art must see the movement of Simon’s hand out of the corner of his eye; he turns to look at him curiously. Simon drops his hand and tries to force his face back to something neutral but he can see Art’s expression morph very slowly from mild confusion to something else, like he’s thinking very hard.

“You all know who I am,” Art says slowly, like he’s putting puzzle pieces together through all the painkillers he’s on. Simon nods, since they do, and Art looks at him, his one visible eye clearing, like he’s actually seeing Simon for the first time.

“Don’t let my father in,” he says, his voice very serious. “I don’t want to see him. Don’t let him in here.”

“What?” Simon says helplessly. He can hear voices outside; Art hasn’t been awake very long, in addition to the various agencies that need his statement there have to be nurses and doctors he needs to talk to, and several of them are coming through the door, but Art is looking at him, and Simon leans in close to hear what he has to say before a dozen more important people shuffle him out of the room.

“Simon,” Art says quietly, while the doctor taps Simon on the shoulder. “He killed my brother.”

----

Rona Cowl rarely looks impressed, but after Simon waves the file around in front of her and rants for fifteen minutes, she looks even more unimpressed than usual.

“I know how it sounds,” he tells her, deflating slightly.

“Uh huh,” Rona says. She’s slouching back in a waiting room chair with her arms crossed, the picture of unconcern. “Blake, when was the last time you left this hospital?”

“I’m not cleared to leave yet.”

“Right,” Rona says, drawing the word out in a way that makes Simon’s cheeks heat immediately. “Can I ask how you got that file, then?”

He got it from the police captain, who’s never worked with the FBI before and looked at his arm sling with something pretty near hero worship, and gave him the file on Michael Lange’s accidental death almost before he was done asking. “Doesn’t matter where I got it,” Simon says, and winces inwardly, since that’s worse than making up a lie.

Rona sighs and rubs at her temple, the closest she ever comes to admitting she’s tired. Simon remembers with a touch of guilt that she’s essentially running the case by herself since he’s out of commission.

“Simon,” Rona says, which is a bad start; using his first name is a cheap trick and Rona Cowl rarely resorts to cheap tricks. “Heinrich Lange is a republican senator.” Simon glowers, getting ready to argue any assertion that that makes him immune to scrutiny, but Rona goes on, “I’m totally ready to believe he’s an abusive prick. I’m pretty near ready to believe he’s a murderer. You know what I know for a fact he’s not, though?”

Simon glares at her, since he doesn’t have an answer.

“He’s not a cult leader. He’s not on the Most Wanted list. And he’s not my case right now.”

Simon knows she’s right, which immediately makes him angrier. “Rona, Art was--”

“Simon,” Rona says, sitting up, and really looks at him, in a way she rarely looks at anyone, no mocking in her eyes. “Heinrich Lange didn’t put his son in that hospital bed. Micah Trent did. And he’s got the money to hire lawyers bloodthirsty enough to take any distraction they can and open his cell door with it. You fucking know that.”

Simon does know it. He doesn’t drop Rona’s gaze, though. “Rona,” he says, almost desperate for her to understand. “Art knows that. But he didn’t ask me to keep Micah Trent out of his hospital room. He asked about his father.”

Rona shakes her head, though she looks a bit uncomfortable. “He knows we’ve got Trent in custody. He doesn’t need to tell us to keep him out.”

Simon sighs, runs his hand through his hair. He knows it’s more than that, but he doesn’t have any way to explain it to Rona other than to say he can feel it, and there’s no phrase Rona hates more than that one. “Fine,” he says, defeated, and tosses the file onto Rona’s lap. “I get it. One case at a time. You’re on door duty, though, if I’m not there.” He looks at her, makes her meet his eyes so she’ll know he’s deadly serious. “I don’t want Senator Lange within a mile of that hospital room. You didn’t hear him say it.”

Rona looks at him for a second, and then sighs and waves her hand. “Alright, alright, I hear you. I’ll keep an eye out.”

[whimsically-ominously-auspice]

Ostracized as usual Denise loudly tells every one she's making corn dogs and asks if they want some...

Then she asks Nathaniel in Spanish how many.

I'm in my room with my door shut and nothing but the air on... I'm not deaf and she opened my daughter's door to ask her and she rejected the offer.

But Denise is acting really cheerful like I knocked something loose other than her scalp loose.

I feel like it's fake but tree says i was going at least 60 mph and my very good quality glass screen protector cracked all the way across... And my phone screen was being weird after, showing green dots where i typed... Which isnt normal...

So like I mean i fucked her up... Like enough to do something to her brain? Or is it like dopamine and shit for pain still going in her chemical system?

I think it's fake... Idk... I don't trust her.

Tree says I fucked her up straight to her brain and knocked some tar loose.

I guess...

But it's weird... Cause she's never cheerful...

Like I'm waiting for us all to die. She could have some frontal lobe pressure that is really doing her a number though... Taking out that psycho sociopath shit She has usually.

That's probably it... If nothing else...

Oh they tell me she had tar injected up past her eye into her skull between her brain and skull... And it got knocked loose...

Well that is fucking weird.

She shouldn't be ostracizing me then! I think she's plotting...

She will be the happy one and I'll be the mean miserable one and so no one will mind if I go missing then she will go back to being psycho

Or she will be all "I kicked you out. Get out" but be all "no.not me.I'm the nice one. You have seen this"

Tar syndrome can't save us all.

Apparently she didn't even tell my Uncle Dad but i did. I wrote an email to him at that police station because i thought i was going to jail And I was not gonna have her go lie about that. Where I was or what i did. So i told him exactly in chronological order without many details exactly.

And I admitted to busting her head open.

Which tree posted and our replies.. And explanation of my adoptive father's existence.

But no way was she gonna go just tell her side. Sure to the cops fine. But not any where else. Not like I expected him to bail me out but I wanted him to know the truth and all that. Because she lies about Everything.

And i figured she would lie about where I was or what happened. Because i didn't know what was going on to be honest and i was all "man I'm fucking going to jail cause she's fucking bleeding because I couldn't control myself and did what I wanted to do for so fucking long"

It was worth one night in jail no charges. You know what i mean? Like just one. Then like "you know what? Forget about it my husband said this was bad to press charges on my kid" type shit

Like "drunk tank me" then let me go.

It was hot in the truck and I wanted to go sit in the shade on the sidewalk but i didn't trust her she got Nathaniel to give me a ride and i was all this bitch is gonna leave my ass stranded the first step I make out this truck.

Because that was what she wanted in the first place!

What the fuck. Its not the first time she's pulled over in that exact spot but before i told her i would get out and she was all "forget it" and I told her "you do that again and I'm gonna beat your ass"

She laughed in my face

And well I pounded her head in enough, apparently.

Excuse me but I get fucking mail on Monday even if it's a holiday. The fucking bitch just took me on Saturday

What does she think? The tooth fairy brought it?!?!

Just goddamed already.

A fact is a fucking fact. I loose my goddamed shit sometimes.

I don't even remember even talking to her. I just remembered like next thing I knew her hair was in my hand and I was all ... Wait what am I doing? Yes I want to do this and I used both hands to yank the shit out of it. 2x

The 2nd time because i could. Because she really tried to hit me! Ugh.

The 3rd time.. Like i knew the second she pulled out from the stop when she told me to,get the fuck out she was taking me to the police station and that is why i pulled her hair

Cause I was like bitch.

Then the 3rd time I planned that... I was gonna make it good if she turned on that street... But I didn't know what my brain knew subconsciously because I was all hey body what are you doing? Cell phone Stabbing her skull?! Not what I had planned but okay! Sure why not.

Then i was all fucking damit it i broke my nail. This is bad. I shouldn't did that plus she was bleeding allover the place and i was all this is it

I can't even pretend I didn't do it. Its too late

I couldn't lie my way out if I tried. I didn't feel bad. I didn't feel scared. I didn't fucking care any more

I was pissed at myself because my kid was gonna be stuck without a mom. Even temporary. Just for a night.

That's why I told my Uncle Dad. Like I said I wasn't looking for bail. But I knew he would want the truth and he always told me to tell it.

So even if I wasn't sorry I still had to admit what I did, for my kid. He always told me that. "Just tell the truth even if you're not sorry. Even if you're proud"

"But doesn't that prove guilt in the eyes of the law?"

"It doesn't matter"

He'd yell... 'Does this look like court? I'll get you a lawyer!' Cause I'd ramp up a huge thing But... The end of the game..

Just tell the truth.

That's what I learned from him.

Maybe my kid would be super pissed and I would deserve her hate at me for not caring about her and being stupid for 10 minutes.

Because it was. It was stupid.

And I'm lucky she didn't press charges and the only reason she didn't is because she's a horrible person and did horrible shit to me as a kid and my Uncle Dad always has taken my side Because I am honest and good and he has always told her she will find a new place to live if she ever presses charges on his kids.

Thats why I got him this shirt for father's day which I already gave him

2..

But yeah my kid would beat my ass if my Uncle didn't have that threat on Denise.

And I would deserved it.

So y'all people fucking around. I'm not a hypocrite. I know what I deserve for what I did.

I know it wasn't right

I owned up to it and I was ready to accept the punishment although I didn't want to. If she chose to, I had no other choice

She was dripping blood all over her shirt at s very rapid pace and she should have gotten stitches.

I feel kinda bad that she didn't. But she chose to lie and hide what really happened.

No one should be treated like she was.

If you are in a relationship like she is

A family like she is

A home she is

You should leave.

I don't say that because i hate her

I say that because we abuse her.

She abuses us. So, we eye for an eye and abuse her back.

So watching that video with no other information. Anyone in a relationship like that should leave.

Y'all know me and our history and so it's different

But no back story and out of context.. It was out of control and could be manifested into a different kind of tale.

And most people in the world shouldn't be treated like she was

If I was her and I was someone else that was say a boyfriend not DNA4U approved or stranger... I would thrown me out of the car, too. And I have, in the past.

So out of context what she did, driving to the police station... Was kinda the right thing to do but I beat her ass and that part is usually deserted but Jack called ahead because he knew I was hitting her and he knew in ESP connection what she was planning. Just as i did.

It is what caused her head to bleed. Like I said I planned it.

She should had went to a gas station or other public places that would been safer ... Especially how that police department is situated.

The back door is open. Not the front. But Jack sent someone out because he knew.

So... If any of you are in that situation you should press charges.

Next time they could kill you

I blacked out. Had she not been driving, i may had killed her.

Im being honest.

[oh-mother-of-darkness]

answers (16)

Anonymous said: A lot of these secrets are really serious and sad so heres a lighter one: me and my sister are knitting christmas socks for the whole family as a surprise. Ive never knit a pattern before but im really good!!

Amazing!! 

Anonymous said: idk if your still doing this but my secret is I fear im a terrible person who only acts nice to rick people into liking her and ik that actually does make me an okay but i still feel im doing it for the wrong reasons and someones going to get too close and find out the truth and hate me

That’s very self aware of you, I think-- probably too self aware. You’re absolutely right to say it’s the trying that matters, but I’m not gonna blame you for worrying about it. I have similar concerns about myself sometimes. I’m aware that for me personally they’re partially justified. Some of my kindness is self motivated. 

I think though (and it seems like you already know this) it’s the effect of the kindness that matters. Maybe it’s better for me if I have “pure” intentions, but if I don’t, I should still do the kind things anyway, right? Because at the end there’s still going to be good. And there’s nothing bad about actively trying to be good, which is all we’re doing. 

Anonymous said: my secret is that ive been chasing after a dream my whole life but im not sure ill ever achieve it. times running out and i dont know what to do if i cant. i feel like my whole life has been put on standby and i dont know the way out. i know ill be okay in the end but i dont know what the end will be and that scares me.

Shit that’s relatable. You really will be okay, but it’s terrifying in the meantime, isn’t it? To have those turning points bearing down on you?

Things will happen. You can’t stop that. Time is gonna continue, but you’ll still be there at the end. Your head’s already in the right place. 

Anonymous said: My secret is that I really, really like one of my friends, but he has a girlfriend and slept with one of my best friends when they were both super drunk. I want the feelings to stop and go back to being just friends, because I honestly think I don't have a chance, but there is a small part of me that doesn't want to let go. I don't know what to do.

Well that’s a bitch of a situation, isn’t it? Romantic feelings aren’t really my area, but I understand holding on to things you consciously want to let go. Emotions always feel like part of me, you know? I don’t want to tear them away. Sometimes it’s better to do it, though. I don’t know from a few sentences if that’s the case here, but I hope you find the way that’s the best for you 

Anonymous said: My secret is I used to be suicidal, in my pre/early teens. I had realised I was lesbian in a small, largely Catholic town and hated myself for it. I was awful at social situations and couldn’t make friends. I hated myself for having baby fat because I danced part time. Then as I got older I slowly got more confident until one day a friend died I realised that holy shit I used to be suicidal and I could have killed myself. I’m terrified that I might get like that again and actually do it

Honestly, and I know this is gonna sound cliche, but I’m always in awe of folks like you. I don’t handle my own mental health issues super well most of the time, and to hear about someone growing? Changing? Getting better? Amazing

Anonymous said: If you're still taking these... my secret is that I don't want to give birth to children ever, and would consider adopting instead (when I'm older), but if I were to voice that to any family member or even an acquitance, they would shun me for it and make sure they try to talk me out of it. I really hate how conservative people put so many expectations on my shoulders

Heyyyyyy same. I’m not planning on birthing any kids, but my parents have come down pretty heavily on the single-women-should-not-adopt-children thing, which is.... bullshit. I’m gonna adopt some kids one day, whether they like it or not. 

You know your own mind and your own plans. Other people don’t have to be happy about them, even (maybe especially) family members. 

Anonymous said: My secret is that I’m a bad friend. I don’t make time for the few friends I have and spend most my time working or being in my room. They deserve better than me.

I don’t think you’re a bad friend. Not being around isn’t bad-friend behavior. You’re not hurting anyone. You’re not doing anything wrong. And I certainly don’t think that it justifies the idea that they should leave you. Relationships are always kinda a difficult balancing act, but you don’t have to be perfect at balancing it, you know?

Anonymous said: My secret is that I'm extremely self-sufficient, I've always had to be. But because there's no one else taking care of me it's so hard to invest my time in others because I'll neglect my own mental state. It make sit hard to develop stable relationships. Every once in a while I re-realize that I'm no one's priority so I have to be my own. And it just sucks.

Shit anon that’s really really rough. It makes me sad with you. I’m not going to tell you you’re wrong, because I don’t know, do I? But I hope you are. 

Anonymous said: My secret is I imagine myself as OCs I create for certain fandoms like Young Justice or Castlevania, and I spend all my time daydreaming of how I would act in episodes and how I would interact with the characters. I think it’s because I’m not satisfied with my life, and I’m also afraid that this makes me either weird or crazy.

Oh biggest mood

I do that too. I’m not in a position to say whether that’s a good or bad thing, but I like to think it just makes us creative. For me, it eventually found an outlet in writing, and that’s been a big source of joy in my life. I had some unpleasant experiences sharing that stuff with people in the past, but for me? I don’t worry about it anymore. I know a lot of people that do similar stuff.

Write some fanfiction, maybe :) You might be real good at it

Anonymous said: My secret is I’m secretly attracted to people who are better than me at stuff

That’s not really my area, but seems to me that’s a pretty good thing to be attracted to. One of the sweetest things I hear around school is people talking about how their partners are going to be such good lawyers. It’s cute. 

Anonymous said: My secret is that my anxiety is crushing me. I don't want to feel this way anymore.

Oh, anon. I just.... feel you. I’ve been really struggling lately with the idea that other people move through life without that handicap, and it amazes and angers me. Why don’t I get that? Why am I like this? It isn’t fair. 

And it isn’t. It just isn’t. You didn’t ask to death match your brain every second of the day. You’re not any worse than everyone else, so why do you have to suffer? I don’t know. I really don’t.

The only happy thing I can say to you is people do heal. It’s bullshit that it takes so much time and effort, but it is possible. I’m better off now than I was five years ago, even if it did take five years and a whole lot of therapy, medication, and energy. You shouldn’t have to fight like this, but you can, and you can win. 

Anonymous said: My secret is Im so bitter most of the time that I cant be happy for others. Me and my best friend are both singers but I can never be happy for her when she gets compliments or any success bc im jealous and im scared I'll never learn to be selfless and happy for other people

You’re only human. You have human emotions. You have every right to feel them. The only thing that matters is your choices, because that’s the only thing you can control. 

I’m so sorry you’re scared. That’s another emotion you have every right to feel 

Anonymous said: My secret is that sometimes I hated myself for not express what I felt because I thought they'll hate me or make distance of me but I'm learning to express my feelings to others and try to be more confidence :) I hope you'll be brave too and do whatever you want to do 💜

I wanna be anon when I grow up 

Anonymous said: My secret is that my hands hurt all the time but in different ways, and I’m scared to get help because I’m scared they’ll tell me I’m making it up or being dramatic.

Man do I hate the shit people put you through to get medical help. Everybody’s entitled to ask, aren’t they? So why are we all making that difficult? Why are we making people feel bad about their own pain?

I understand your fear, but I hope you start asking questions anyway. Other people’s opinions about it aren’t your fault

Anonymous said: My secret is that my dermatillomania has gotten way worse since I got to college, so I’m having to wear headscarves again to keep myself from picking my scalp. I smuggled my scarf collection out of my room without telling my parents.

I’m sorry, anon. That’s difficult. That sucks. That’s bullshit. 

Anonymous said: my secret is that when one of my family members says something homophobic I'll laugh and agree because I'm afraid that they'll disown me if there's any shred of proof that I'm LGBT and it makes me feel like such filth

That’s not your fault. It’s theirs for making you feel unsafe, because your safety really should be your first priority! That’s okay! You’re not being a bad person by doing it. You’re just protecting someone. You’re allowed to make that someone you

[isitgintimeyet]

The Ties That Bind

AO3

Previous

Well, thanks for reading and thanks for all the comments and feedback after the last chapter! Jamie and Claire need some time out and a couple of friendly shoulders to lean on.

Thanks to @mo-nighean-rouge for the beta.

Chapter 17: A Therapeutic Counselling

Sometimes, just saying that you hate something, and having someone agree with you, can make you feel better about a terrible situation. - Lemony Snicket, The Bad Beginning

Jamie: How are you doing today?

Sassenach: OK. Lot of thinking

Sassenach: How are you?

Jamie: Worried. When can I see you?

Sassenach: Not yet. Will let you know

Jamie: I love you x

Sassenach: ...

Sassenach: …

Sassenach: I know

Sassenach: ...

Sassenach: Love you too

******

The day at work dragged by. Jamie felt detached and sluggish, fuelled only by industrial-strength espresso. He really thought they had worked it through last night. After the initial anger followed by hurt and sadness, Jamie had believed there was an acceptance of the situation. He had let Claire take the lead in their lovemaking, realising her fierce need to possess his body and brand him, mark him as hers. But Claire's wound was still raw, with no time to scab over, and his unintentional teasing with the condom had been enough to open it wide again. He considered himself to have a degree of emotional intelligence, but it had totally failed him last night. And the result was being told to leave Claire’s bed and return home, in a taxi, his arousal having quickly dissipated when he realised his own insensitivity.

The day had been incredibly unproductive too, constantly checking his phone for signs that Claire was willing to meet him. Apart from the terse responses to his texts, there had been no further communication.

The screen of his phone lit up, announcing the arrival of a message. Greedily, he picked it up, disappointed when John’s name appeared.

John: Gym in 20?

Jamie: yh. See you in there

******

John was already pounding away on the treadmill when Jamie arrived. He quickly adjusted the settings, plugged his headphones in and set off. His legs and hand still ached from the strenuous activity yesterday, so he kept it easy, not even trying to match or outdo John’s pace as he usually did.

John glanced over to his friend, his face questioning Jamie’s unaccustomed slow speed. Jamie shrugged and carried on.

The process was repeated on the rowing machines and cross trainers. By the time they reached the hand bikes, Jamie had had enough. He pulled out his headphones and tapped John’s arm.

“That’s it fer me. I’m headin’ fer the shower.”

“Are you ok? You don’t seem your usual, er, bullish self.”

“Aye, well, things on ma mind.”

Wrapping a towel round himself, Jamie left his shower cubicle and headed to his locker as John walked into the changing room. John stared momentarily at Jamie’s stomach, before hastily shifting his gaze upwards.

“Er, good night then, was it?” He nodded his head in the general direction of Jamie’s lower body.

Jamie glanced in the mirror. The evidence of Claire’s ministrations the previous night was clearly visible, livid red circles across his abdomen with faint pink tracks down his chest.

“No’ sae good as ye’re thinking. Have ye time fer a drink? I could do wi’ one.”

******

John brought the drinks over to their usual table. Unusually, John had chosen neat whisky. It seemed more appropriate to him, joining Jamie in a dram or two while listening to, he was sure, Jamie’s current relationship problems.

Jamie took a sip of his drink, then another. John waited in silence.

“I dinna ken where tae start.” Jamie began, tapping his glass with his fingers.

John shrugged.

“We’ve known each other, what, ten, eleven years? And in all that time, have ye ever known me to fall for a woman? I mean, really fall, hard?”

John shook his head. “No, plenty of girlfriends, plenty of relationships, but none that I thought ‘this is it, this is Jamie settling down.’ Not until now.”

“Aye, ye’re no wrong. No’ wishin’ tae sound too soppy, but this is the first time I’ve felt like this. Claire is the one I see a future with… did see… no, do see. But I’m feared she willna want tae carry on. And it’s all ma fault. I canna believe it, everything was going sae well.”

He took a larger gulp of his drink before carrying on. “I went tae see Geneva, like we spoke about.”

“Oh, did Claire not know? Has she found out?”

“Nah, I told her what I was doin’. That was fine. It’s no’ that… Geneva’s pregnant. With ma bairn. I told Claire last night.”

John was stunned into silence at this revelation, before bursting forth with a barrage of questions. “Oh my god, Jamie, pregnant? Really? Yours? Are you sure? And telling Claire? How did she take it? Sorry, stupid question… of course she’ll have taken it badly. But does she think you’d slept with Geneva while seeing her?”

“Aye, I’m sure it’s mine. I’ve kent Geneva for a good while and the way she thinks. And Claire, weel, she kens it was just afore I met her. She took it as well as anyone would… blamed me fer being led by ma cock, no’ ma brain. Blamed me fer leading Geneva on when I’d no mind tae have a relationship wi’ her. Then took me tae her bed. Like a vixen she was, till… weel, till I wasna as sensitive as I shoulda been. And she told me tae go. Jes’ a couple of texts since then. And I’m worried, John. What if I’ve screwed it all up? What if she doesna want tae be wi’ me? I dinna ken what I’d do. What will I do, John? ”

“I don’t know, Jamie, I really don’t know.”

John had never seen his friend this upset about a woman. To Jamie, girlfriends had always been like buses, if you missed one, just hang around and another will be along soon enough. He realised that Claire must be really quite special.

“All you can do is talk to her and listen to her too. I’m sure she won’t want to throw away what you have. But you must realise it’s a lot for Claire to deal with, a child and an ex! She knows you weren’t unfaithful to her. And you’ll need to reassure her that you won’t be going back to the woman. That’s not what Geneva wanted, was it?”

“Aye, she did suggest we could try again. But I made it clear that wasna going tae happen. And even if Claire and I canna…” Jamie paused for a moment before taking a deep breath and continuing. “Even if Claire and I willna be together, I will never be wi’ Geneva. John, dinna tell anyone about this, please. I want tae have it all sorted afore I have tae start explaining tae people... Another one, eh?”

Jamie drained his glass and stood up. John wasn’t sure he could stomach another neat whisky but felt that asking for some ginger ale to go with it might send Jamie over the edge. He just nodded and passed his empty glass over.

Jamie returned with two whiskies and two packets of salt and vinegar crisps. He ripped one open and shovelled a couple of handfuls into his mouth. Conversation between them stopped until Jamie finished crunching. He wiped his hands on his tracksuit and leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table.

“And do ye ken, while all this is goin’ on in ma head… what about Claire… what about Geneva… how do I explain tae Claire… what do I tell Jenny and Da… the one thing that’s no’ gettin’ a look in is the poor wee bairn that’s goin’ tae be arrivin’. I mean, I dinna want tae have a baby this way.”

“I know... but It’s awfully convenient for Geneva isn’t it? She wants to be in a relationship with you. Suddenly she’s pregnant. Call me a cynical lawyer, and I know accidents can happen but... think about a DNA test when the baby’s born. Just remember, I’m here for you as a friend but I’m also here in my professional capacity. I hope you don’t need that but bear that in mind.”

Jamie’s phone, resting on the table, bleeped. He snatched it up.

Sassenach: xan we taiolk???

Sassenach: im aa bit pissssed, och aye xx

**************

Fortunately for Claire, and more fortunately for her patients, she had no theatre or outpatient sessions, so she could spend the day in her office, fortified by strong black coffee, dictating patient letters and catching up on other paperwork.

She found it difficult to focus though. Her mind kept replaying the conversation between herself and Jamie last night, culminating in forcing Jamie to leave her flat, in a taxi, with a bad case of blue balls, no doubt.

It had been unkind, and possibly not rational of her to do that, but just when she had reached a level of acceptance of the situation, he had tried to include contraception as part of foreplay. That had hit hard, not only Geneva’s pregnancy, but his goddamn lack of sensitivity.

Claire’s secretary tried to keep her spirits up by frequently bringing her pots of tea and rounds of toast. (“This is what keeps the NHS goin’, ye ken, pet. Nice bit of hot tea and a bite of toast. Soon put the colour back in yer cheeks.”)

Her phone rested on the desk, distracting her from her work. She kept picking it up, poised to send Jamie a text, but unsure what to say, she would put it down again. The messages she had sent to Jamie were short responses to his, giving away nothing.

By mid afternoon she had had enough. The caffeine from the copious amounts of coffee and tea had given her a headache so she decided to walk home, trying to clear her head. As she gathered her papers together, shoving them into her bag, the screen of her phone lit up, announcing the arrival of a message. She picked it up, disappointed when Geillis’s name appeared.

G: r u ok. Didn’t c u 2day

Claire: it’s complicated. Come round later for a drink?

G: ok. C u l8r

******

The door was unlocked, so Geillis let herself in and headed straight for the living room. She sat down as Claire appeared, struggling to carry two whisky tumblers, an ice bucket and a bottle of Broch Tuarach.

“Celebratin’ are we? Ye’ve brought out the good stuff, I see.” Geillis commented

Claire poured two very large whiskies and passed one to her friend. She dropped three ice cubes into her whisky, letting the contents splash over the rim of the glass and onto the table.

“Oh bugger... I’ll have bloody ice in my whisky if I want. I might actually want it to dilute the flavour, he doesn’t bloody know what I want, that’s for sure.”

Claire tried to mop up the spillage with the hem of her shirt, succeeding only in spreading the moisture over a larger area. Geillis began to suspect that this was not her first drink of the evening.

“So, I take it we’re no’ celebratin’ here then. What’s the problem, Claire? My hunch is it’s man-related, am I right? Come on, tell me, while I savour this fine dram.”

“I don’t know where to start. We’ve been friends for, what, seven years now? You saw me with Frank and know what shit he put me through. I’m so relaxed with Jamie. I don’t want to be soppy but I love the way he makes me feel. I see a future with him, or, well I did and it’s suddenly got so complicated.���

Claire swigged her drink.

“Basically, last year Jamie was in a relationship with a woman called Geneva. Stupid bloody name. Anyway, he finished with her, but they briefly got back together just before I met him. He ended it again. Then a few days ago she started sending him messages asking to meet up.”

“Oh, did he go and no’ tell ye? Is that it? And ye’re right, ‘tis a daft name.”

Claire took another large swig. The ice was starting to hurt her teeth. She fished a couple of cubes out of her drink and dropped them back in the bucket.

“No, He told me he was going to see her to make it plain there was no chance. That was fine. It’s not that… Geneva’s pregnant. It’s his baby. She’s keeping it. He told me last night.”

”Ye dinna think he shagged her while he was wi’ ye? Christ, a bairn. Why would anyone want a bairn?”

“I know it…” Claire drained her whisky. “Him and her… them… was before me. But I hate the thought of him screwing that cow. I’ve never met her but I’m sure she’s a cow. Anyway, I got mad and accused him of thinking with his cock.”

Geillis raised her glass in salute and nodded. “He’s a man, that’s what they all do. Can work to our advantage, though.”

“And I accused him of leading Geneva on. Then I got all maudlin about our babies.”

Geillis eyed Claire’s midriff. “No’ ye too? ‘Cos the amount of alcohol ye’re shifting would no’ be good.”

“G, of course not. I meant hypothetical babies.”

“They’re the best kind,” Geillis muttered. “Dinna get under yer feet, or smell, or cry or…”

“Focus, G. So after rage and tears, I then turned into some sort of vixen and practically pounced on him. Until he suggested that I put the condom on him, all sexy-like. So I asked him to leave. That’s it. What should I do, G? I want him, but it’s all getting so messy.”

“I dinna ken, Claire. Mebbe another drink?” Geillis handed Claire her glass in expectation as she carried on talking.

“Ye have tae figure out what ye want. That’s ye, no’ Jamie or that woman or a bairn. Think about jes’ yerself. What are ye willin’ tae deal with? And then all you can do is talk tae him. If ye want him, ye have tae remember he wasna unfaithful. He needs tae gi’ ye reassurance that he willna go back tae the bitch. But if ye dinna feel ye want these complications, think carefully about what ye’re givin’ up. Either way, it’s gonna be difficult... Now pour that Broch Tuarach. I could develop quite a taste fer this.”

Claire poured two more very large whiskies and drank deeply.

“And I need to remember,” she started, slurring her words. “I can be angry, really really mad as hell with Jamie and totally pissed off with Genevieve, sorry, Geneva who I bet is a total dog breath and always coordinates her handbag with her shoes. And I bet she gets one of those really neat bumps, not fat or all round… sorry, what was I saying? Oh, I remember. But there’s going to be a li’l baby with red hair and curls and I’d have to meet it. And it might not like me and cry for Gennifer, sorry, Genevieve, I mean Geneva.”

And with that, Claire closed her eyes and rested her head on Geillis’ shoulder. Geillis patted her curls affectionately and carefully removed the glass, now at a precarious angle, from Claire’s hand.

“What I’m thinkin’ is, ‘twas verra handy how she got pregnant by accident, is it no’? Verra suspicious. Well, Claire, ye need tae talk tae Jamie as soon as possible and get this sorted. And remember, I may no’ be tall, but I’m verra strong and I’ve a friend who works with horses and can always lend me a castration tool. In case ye need it.”

******

Claire woke up as Geillis shut the front door and headed home. Still drunk, Claire fumbled in her bag for her mobile and started typing.

Claire: xan we taiolk???

Claire: im aa bit pissssed, och aye xx

Jamie: Of course. When? Now?

Claire : tomrw. need sleeep noo. want crosssant. sooooooo hungry. byeee

Claire:stupid fukin sperms